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seungkwansphd · 2 years

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fixer upper

pairing: minghao x reader wordcount: 9.5k summary: you love your friends dearly, but do they really think that they can match make for their resident matchmaker? minghao’s certainly interesting, though, so maybe you can fix him up with someone else instead. genre/themes: s2f2l. “beg” minghao. LOTS OF PLOT with eventual smut. slow and i mean SLOW burn. some member slander(affectionate), lol. set in the ‘we get along infamously’ universe.

a/n: i have nothing to say for myself regarding the length of this.

You tapped the bartop impatiently as you waited for your blind date to show up. You couldn’t believe that Danbi had roped you into this, but you had lost the game of darts fair and square. As a result, you were here waiting for a man named Minghao to show up. Part of you really wanted to skip out on this, because you just did not trust Danbi’s romantic sensibilities. She had dated a string of truly boring and strange people for months before you had finally set her up with Seungcheol. There was no way this Minghao was going to be anywhere near suited for you, but you were a person of your word, so you would do the date and be done with it.

“Hey, are you YN?” a voice called from above your left shoulder. You turned your head to see a tall, lanky individual with dark hair looking curiously at you.

“Yes, are you Minghao?” you sat up straight, fixing him with a smile. He wasn’t your usual type, physically, but you couldn’t deny he was handsome.

“Yes, nice to meet you,” he smiled, taking the barstool next to you.

“So how do you know Danbi?” you asked after he had ordered with the bartender.

“Ah, so,” Minghao looked almost sheepish, “I helped Jeonghan get together with the person he’s dating now. One of my close friends! And so I met Seungcheol and Danbi through Jeonghan.”

“Oh?” you calculated the degrees of separation quickly in your mind. “So you don’t really know Danbi at all, then!”

“Not well,” Minghao shook his head. “I was kind of surprised when Jeonghan told me that she wanted to set me up on a date.”

“I-,” you laughed, somehow relieved to find out that this hadn’t been any serious effort on your friend’s part. “Honestly, thank god! No offense to you, I obviously don’t know you, but Danbi historically has not impressed me with her taste in men.”

“No offense taken,” Minghao chuckled, bringing his cocktail to his lips for a quick sip. “So does that mean you’re the resident matchmaker in your friend group as well?”

“Very much so,” you nodded, “So I’m not sure exactly what Danbi thinks she’s up to, trying to take my title. In fact, I bet even I could set you up with someone better! And I don’t even know you at all!” you blustered.

“Oh really?” Minghao’s eyebrow raised. You were funny.

“What, you don’t believe me?” you furrowed your brows at him.

“I mean, no one is a better matchmaker than me, so my bar is pretty high,” he replied smugly. “I’ve only ever had one couple break up, and it was due to one of their jobs making them move away.”

“Out of how many?” you found yourself curious.

“...Eight?” Minghao had to tally in his mind quickly.

“Hah! That’s nothing!” you waved him off easily, “I’ve successfully set up eleven couples and none of them have broken up yet!”

Minghao smiled, amused by your bright and confident energy. While you clearly weren’t suited for him, he found himself wanting to beat you at your own game.

“Set me up then,” he invited confidently. “But I bet I can find you a match sooner than you can find one for me.”

“Oh?” you grinned at his gamelike proposal. Before you even knew it, the words came out of your mouth, “You’re on!”

Minghao laughed, shaking your hand enthusiastically. You spent the rest of your “date” exchanging phone numbers and excitedly reviewing each other’s basic likes and dislikes. Minghao wasn’t your type, but he certainly was interesting! He worked in HR for a tech company, had interests in art and fashion, and also had trained in mixed martial arts as a child? Quite a strange array of hobbies, but you were so going to win this thing!

…

“So, how did it go?” Minghao’s voice sounded slightly tinny through your headphones.

“Not good,” you were almost excited to report on how badly the date had gone. “I would rate your matchmaking skills like a 4 out of 10 right now!”

“Excuse me?” Minghao stopped in his tracks. Surely he had misheard you.

“Four. Out of ten.” you repeated yourself, grinning at the way you could tell he was surprised by your feedback.

“No, that can’t be right.”

“Allow me to elaborate,” you pressed on as you decided to take the long way home so you could regale Minghao with every last detail of why your date with Wonwoo had not been stellar. “First…could you have found someone more quiet or disinterested to have set me up with? You’d think I was trying to pull his teeth out!”

Minghao squeezed his eyes together. He and Wonwoo had built up their rapport over many years and he’d somehow forgotten just how tight-lipped his friend could be when meeting someone new.

“Also his only hobby seems to be gaming? I don’t know anything about that nor do I have an interest,” you continued. “Ah, it’s so nice out!” you commented as an aside while you pulled a pink bloom to your nose to inhale.

“Oh are you outside?” Minghao couldn’t help but ask.

“Yep, I’m walking home!” you nodded, “Oh I’m glad I took the long way! I forgot how much I like this park.”

“It is a nice day out,” Minghao looked out the glass panes of his office. He was painfully close to the end of his day and truth be told, he was excited to run out the clock with you on the phone. “So anyways, where are my four points coming from, because I haven’t heard anything positive yet.”

“Oh, well, I mean. I’m going to chalk that up to Wonwoo’s looks, really. He’s unbelievably handsome. Almost too handsome!” you threw your hands up in the air, drawing a few odd looks from other pedestrians.

Minghao laughed. It was true, Wonwoo was probably his most conventionally attractive friend, so it wasn’t a surprise to hear you say it too.

“Okay, so then…very cold on the personality traits, but very hot on the physical features. I can work off of that,” Minghao nodded, scanning through his mental roster of friends. Luckily, Wonwoo was probably the most introverted of them all, so it could only go upwards from here.

“Yep. Oh which! I have a candidate for you,” you clapped excitedly as you waited for the crosswalk to turn green. “My friend Yena!”

Minghao nodded contemplatively as you rattled off the list of compatible points that you saw for him and this Yena. He had his doubts, but he put your proposed date and time in his calendar. A deal was a deal.

“Okay, I’m almost home, so I’m going to hang up now! I’ll text Yena to confirm! Eee, I’m excited to hear what you think!”

“Okay, bye,” Minghao laughed, glancing at the clock again. It was officially quitting time, so he packed up his bag and headed out of the office. You’d been right, it was a beautiful day out, so he decided to switch up his commute as well. As he walked, he found himself wondering which park you had passed through on your way home.

…

[yn]: ‘sooooooo…………yena?!?!???!’

[minghao]: ‘6/10’

You narrowed your eyes in disbelief. Six out of ten?!

[yn]: ‘BE SO FUCKIN FR RIGHT NOW’

[minghao]: ‘no, I actually really liked her, but she said she doesn’t eat chinese food?! i can’t live like that’

What? Surely you had eaten Chinese food with Yena before, right? You racked your brain, but unfortunately came up empty handed. You had to admit, that was a big blind spot on your part.

[yn]: ‘.........i guess that has never come up before. my bad! i know that’s important to you’

[yn]: ‘i’m still up 2 tho! 6 against your 4.’

Minghao threw his head back to laugh. You were so competitive.

[yn]: ‘ok feedback on other qualities tho! plz & thank u’

Minghao waited, an amused smile on his lips, for your three dots to vanish before providing your requested feedback. As he had said, overall he had quite enjoyed meeting Yena. She had been a little quiet and shy at first, but had opened up quite a bit as the date went on. They shared an interest in art and had had quite a nice discussion before she revealed that she did not like Chinese food. Normally an aversion to specific food wouldn’t bother Minghao so much, but after moving, it was important for him to continue to engage with his culture and food was a major way in which he did that.

[yn]: ‘ok, got it, got it. that makes perfect sense’

A soft smile settled on his lips. Minghao was glad that you weren’t taking too much offense to his negative feedback. Part of him was glad that the date hadn’t gone that well and he was sure that it was just his competitive nature. It would have been humiliating for him if you had actually found him someone perfect on the first try.

[minghao]: ‘what are your plans for the weekend?’

[yn]: ‘theres a textile and apparel exhibit opening at the folk art museum that i wanted to check out’

[minghao]: ‘oh?? i was planning to go too! when are you going?’

You cocked your head curiously at your phone. That was weird. But you realized it would be very helpful to observe Minghao in the wild so as to do a better job choosing prospective dates for him. Then you could review your roster of candidates for him after the museum, so it could be a productive time! With a fluttery feeling in your chest, for whatever reason, you chose a meeting time to visit the museum with Minghao. Together.

…

You tapped your fisted hands against your hips as you scanned the crowds for Minghao. It had been a few weeks since you had first met him in person and you had an unreasonable worry that you’d forgotten what his face looked like. Glancing at your watch, you wondered if you had gotten the time wrong.

“YN!” a clear voice caught your attention.

“Ah, there you are!” your face cracked into a smile up at Minghao. “Ok, I’m glad I decided to dress up!” you exhaled with relief after taking in his outfit. He hadn’t been kidding when he’d said he was interested in fashion.

“This outfit is very cool,” he nodded approvingly, eyes raking over you. An unreasonable warmth spread across you at his assessment. You had spent longer than usual picking and re-picking necklaces to match the hardware on your boots. It was nice to see that it was appreciated.

“Thank you!” you beamed up at him, eyes creasing into semi-circles. “Now let’s go!” you gestured forcefully at the museum entrance.

“Okay, okay,” Minghao chuckled goodnaturedly, allowing you to lead the way.

“Holy fuck,” you breathed, hands fisted in excitement as you peered closely at the thread and beadwork on a contemporary bobbin lace exhibit. “Unreal.”

Minghao had to do a double take. Your mouth had fallen slightly open, enthralled, as you took in the detail and your eyes were as wide as saucers. You looked like a cartoon frog.

“You’ll catch a fly like that,” he teased, slipping two fingertips under your chin to snap your mouth shut.

You narrowed your eyes at him. If you’d learned one thing today, it was that Minghao was quite prone to teasing. It was a good thing that you had agreed to this museum trip after all, because otherwise your list of next candidates would’ve been wildly out of order.

“Do you want to see the other exhibits too? Or are you only interested in fiber arts?” Minghao asked, looking up from the museum layout map.

“No, I’m interested in all mediums!” you nodded at him. “I just think textile arts have been woefully excluded from the mainstream art world because, you know, misogyny,” you rolled your eyes theatrically at him as you followed his lead. “So I am particularly interested when museums put together exhibits like that!”

Minghao’s lips pinched slightly in amusement. He agreed with you, of course, but he found your animated enthusiasm in high contrast to the serious backdrop of the museum hall. He led the way to one of his favorite areas and you two passed the rest of the afternoon walking through the displays in contemplative quiet.

“I’m hungry,” you frowned as you left the museum.

“Me too,” Minghao grabbed at his midsection. “Let’s go find something to eat!”

“There’s a Chinese restaurant around here that I like! Let’s go there!” you suggested. Minghao nodded furiously, stomach grumbling insistently at him.

…

You glanced at your date out of the side of your eye as you wondered how rude it might be to just leave. While Joshua was certainly your physical type, all arms and chest, you quickly found out that the contents of his brain were just not for you. You weren’t religious at all and if he broke out into song, singing ‘Sunday Morning’ at or near you one more time, you might actually run away.

After going through the motions of saying goodbye, you pulled your phone out to dial Minghao as soon as you started walking home.

“Hello?” he answered, sounding slightly groggy.

“I need to understand your thought process with this one,” you shook your head in disbelief.

“Huh?” Minghao rubbed his eyes, pulling his phone away to check who had called. “Oh, hey! Sorry I just woke up.”

“Oh, did I wake you up?” you paused, “Shit, sorry! You didn’t have to answer me!”

“I didn’t know it was you! I also hadn’t meant to fall asleep,” Minghao chuckled and you heard some rustling of sheets in the background. “Sorry, what did you ask me again?”

“I need to know why you set me up with Joshua,” you frowned. “Do I give off a vibe that he’s my type?”

“Is he not?” Minghao wondered, “He’s more outgoing than Wonwoo, still handsome, and family oriented.”

“Okay, those things are true, but he’s also super religious, which I’m not. And I do not like to be sung at in public…or at all, I don’t think.”

“No, please,” Minghao started laughing, “Did he? I didn’t think he’d bring that out on a first date!” Minghao couldn’t stop laughing, practically kicking his feet in delight at the absurdity of it.

“Yeah, several times, in fact,” you rolled your eyes.

“Why are you so difficult to match for?” Minghao found himself asking. He was partially teasing, but also somewhat serious. People generally threw themselves at both Wonwoo and Joshua, so to hear you be so turned off by them was surprising and confusing.

“I’m not difficult! I think my expectations are more than reasonable,” you nodded firmly to yourself.

“Okay, elaborate on these expectations, please, because I’m clearly missing the mark.”

“Hm, well, okay. Someone funny and intelligent with a wide variety of interests or knowledge. Someone who would challenge me in ways that make me grow. Someone who also can understand that I should have my own endeavors and activities without feeling insecure. I dunno, someone who just gets me!”

“Very reasonable,” Minghao’s flat voice came back across the phone.

“It is reasonable!” you stamped your foot. You felt like he was teasing you again, but it was hard to tell over the phone.

“No, that’s helpful!” he clarified.

“Why are you asleep at 8pm anyways, you old man?” you suddenly remembered.

“Ugh, it was a long day,” he groaned into your ear, “I had to get to work early to prepare onboarding materials for new hires and then when I got home, I just passed out I guess.”

“Ah, well, do you want me to let you go? You should go back to sleep and catch up on yesterday.”

“No, I’m up now,” Minghao shook his head, reluctant to end the phone call. “Tell me about the restaurant, was the food at least good?”

You smiled, happy to stay on the line with him. The food had indeed been good and you described your meal and cocktails to him in vivid detail. You were now in your second month of knowing Minghao and your relationship had evolved into a tentatively comfortable friendship. Between all of the set up activities, you’d actually gotten to know him a bit and grown used to discussing and sharing other aspects of your lives. Minghao was definitely an introvert, but he was well balanced with an energy and enthusiasm that ensured you were never bored.

…

“Wait, I’m confused. You told me that the date with Minghao didn’t go well, but you’ve stayed in touch with him?” Danbi’s forehead wrinkled in confusion.

“What are you confused about? That’s exactly right,” you returned her confused look.

“Why would you stay in touch with someone you don’t like?”

“I never said I didn’t like him!” you shook your head, confused at her statement.

“You liked him, but the date didn’t go well? Why wouldn’t the date go well if you like him?”

“I can like him as a friend and not want to date him!”

Danbi narrowed her eyes at you. She didn’t think you were that petty, but it was almost as if you were purposefully maintaining a distance between yourself and Minghao just to spite her.

“So what do you two talk about?” she was curious.

“We’ve been setting each other up on dates! Supposedly he’s the friend group matchmaker, like me, but he’s pretty bad at it,” you chuckled, rolling your eyes. “But we talk about other things too! He likes art and fashion. We went to the textile exhibit opening a few weeks ago.”

Danbi shook her head; she was lost. Wasn’t that just a date? Luckily she knew you better than to prod too much further.

“Well that’s good! It’s always nice to make a new friend,” she smiled at you, “He should come to Soonyoung’s housewarming party next week!”

“Should he?”

“Yeah, of course! Jeonghan will be there and I think he invited a few of his coworkers too so see if Minghao wants to come!”

“Ah, I guess so,” you nodded, somehow nervous, “I’ll ask, but no promises.”

“Sure!” Danbi laughed, “Now let me show you some pictures of Doyun with Jeonghan and his new partner! Who you also have to meet!”

You giggled happily as Danbi flipped through her photos. Doyun had always looked more like Seungcheol as a baby, but now that he was getting older, he was taking on more and more of your friend’s features.

“Ah, he looks so much like you there! Ahhhh!” you shook your fists excitedly.

“He does look more like me recently, doesn’t he?” she beamed proudly at you.

For all the headache you had posed to her with this Minghao situation, she did love you and was grateful towards you for gently nudging her towards Seungcheol many years ago. You were very astute at reading others and as a result, she now had a wonderful husband and son. It had always interested and amused her that your insightfulness didn’t quite extend to yourself.

…

“Eeeee!” you and Soonyoung clapped your hands together excitedly after you’d sunk another ping pong ball into a plastic cup.

“Just perfect! Look at that technique! You duds don’t stand a chance!” he crowed, jeering at Seungcheol and Seokmin excitedly.

Danbi giggled excitedly at her husband’s rotten luck, to which Seungcheol pouted.

“Ya! Who are you even cheering for?!” he shouted playfully, leveling an accusing finger at his wife, inspiring another round of giggles.

“Me, of course! I can find her another husband, she can’t find another me!” you laughed, jumping up and down in delight at the way that Seungcheol fumed.

“You’re dead!” he furrowed his brows at you, “You’re so dead!” He made a show of stretching his neck and shoulders before taking his next shot at beer pong.

“Hah!” you shouted and shook Hoshi excitedly, collapsing into a puddle of laughter as Seungcheol’s ball ricocheted dramatically off of the rim and bounced anticlimactically across the ground. “Oh no, oh Cheol please I’m crying!” you hiccuped, wiping your eyes.

Minghao had slipped in quietly while you were taunting Seungcheol and he was shocked at the way you did it so loudly and unapologetically. He didn’t know Seungcheol quite that well yet, but he had been under the impression that he probably shouldn’t be messed with too much. A smile toyed at the corners of his mouth before he moved away to grab a beverage.

“You made it!” Danbi appeared at his side while he popped the cap off of a beer.

“Hi Danbi,” Hao smiled kindly at her. He had met Danbi through Jeonghan a while ago and for whatever reason, she had really taken a shine to him.

“Did you find the place alright?”

“Yes, YN’s instructions were very easy to follow.”

“Great! Let me know if there’s anyone here that you haven’t met yet, but I think you may know them all!”

Minghao nodded. Looking around the room, it did seem like he knew most of the attendees. Jeonghan and his girlfriend were flanked by a few of their other coworkers. By some miracle Seokmin and Seungcheol had both managed to find babysitters tonight, and so were able to attend with their wives, Hana and Danbi. Joshua was on another date, after he and YN had not managed to hit things off, so Jeonghan’s friend group was short just one of the usual count.

“Ha! Ha! Ha!” you laughed with Hoshi after winning yet another game of beer pong. You and he had been nearly undefeatable since college and it was nice to see that this hadn’t changed, even after he had moved away for a few years. “Oh pink?” you wondered aloud when you spotted Minghao chatting with Jeonghan over a beer.

“You’re here!” you interrupted their conversation easily, fingers itching to touch his pink hair. “Is this a fade out color?”

“Yes,” he laughed, “The murder scene every time I showered was starting to get old.”

“I can’t believe your hair hasn’t just fallen straight out of your head,” Jeonghan’s girlfriend shook her head with a laugh.

“Hah!” you laughed heartily, struggling to imagine Minghao bald.

“I’d love it if you didn’t curse me with this foul energy,” he rolled his eyes at all of you.

“Did you all see how I swept the floor with Seungcheol? Again?” you crowed excitedly to Jeonghan.

“Yes, yes, very good,” Jeonghan rolled his eyes at you. You were always such a braggart about pong.

“I can’t believe he lets you tease him like that,” Minghao gestured to Seungcheol incredulously.

“Ah, I’m a lovable scamp!” you shrugged, sticking your tongue out at your newest friend.

“That’s true,” Hao laughed, a soft smile crossing his face.

Jeonghan and his girlfriend both looked at Minghao with interest while your attention was pulled elsewhere. Danbi and Hana summoned you from across the room so you gave everyone a small wave before you left.

“So-,” Jeonghan opened his mouth to dig, but his girlfriend stopped him with a quick shake of her head. She knew Minghao would not respond to anything that direct, so it was best to meddle gently.

“What is it?” you asked once you were close enough to Danbi and Hana for them to hear you.

“We were wondering if Minghao had set you up on a successful date yet?” Hana asked, “If not, I actually met this kind of cool guy at the school yesterday.”

“Oh, no, not yet. I actually need to follow up with him on that,” you shook your head.

“Follow up? You’re being so project manager-y about this,” Hana laughed.

“I mean…it is a project that I’m managing,” you flushed, already knowing that you would say no to Hana’s proposed guy.

“Well, what do you think? He came to service the computers, so he works in IT. He’s tall, pretty broad, and has a very nice smile.”

“What’s his personality like?” you queried. It didn’t make any sense at all, but for whatever reason you felt guilty of the idea of being set by someone other than Minghao.

“I didn’t get to talk to him too much, but he seemed nice! He volunteers at an animal shelter.”

“Aww,” Danbi cooed excitedly.

“You’re going to make fun of me for saying this, but I don’t think I care,” you inhaled deeply before rejecting Danbi’s proposal. “It feels weird to think about going on a date with someone that Minghao doesn’t pick for me. So I kind of want to see how things play out with that?”

“I’m not going to make fun of you!” Danbi looked at you indignantly.

“I am!” Hana made a face at you, “You are so attached to him, like come on YN!” she gestured forcefully at you.

“Of course I’m attached to him, we’re friends!” you shrugged. “I’m attached to you doofuses too,” you gestured back with your palms up. Hana and Danbi laughed. Your love language was, indeed, teasing and they’d grown used to it long ago. You were watching them whisper to each other suspiciously before Danbi jutted her chin out, pointing at something behind you.

“Oh, JESUS!” you jumped after realizing Minghao was standing behind you. “Snuck up on me, fuckin’ hell,” you mumbled curses as you put a few paces between him and yourself.

“Let’s go play beer pong. Apparently you’re unstoppable and I need to witness this for myself,” he smirked, giving you a disbelieving once over.

“Don’t…,” you found yourself shivering under his gaze, “Look at me like that! I will win,” you let yourself think that you had recovered smoothly.

With each ball that Minghao sank into your cups, you stood up just a little straighter and your expression grew just a little more baffled. You’d never been in such a closely matched game of pong before and, honestly, you didn’t care for it.

“Hey, let’s make this more interesting,” Minghao spoke up when you were each down to one cup. You raised an eyebrow at him, gesturing for him to proceed with his idea. “If I win, I take you out on a date.”

“I-,” you choked, heart clogging your throat momentarily. “What?”

“For research purposes,” he clarified, triple checking his foot placement as he squared up his aim. “You can give me feedback and that’ll help me better tailor my matches for you in the future.” He launched the ball into the air and it sailed into your final cup easily.

“I-, wait,” you stuttered, partially in disbelief over your loss and partially for a reason that you weren’t able to identify yet. Your mouth opened and closed a few times before you could accept it.

“What, are you scared?” Minghao stepped towards you. He felt a perverse joy in the way you were reacting to his win. Something about seeing you flounder tickled his brain very specifically.

“You lost fair and square!” Soonyoung waved you off to make room for the next players.

“What exactly would I be scared of?” you blustered as Minghao herded you away from the table. “A date with you?”

“Scared you’ll like it,” he laughed, peering down at you, stepping into your personal space just slightly.

“Hah!” you let out a honking laugh. That was absurd, right? “Fine, take me out on our little date. I’m sure I’ll have plenty of feedback.”

“Great,” he grinned at you, patting you on the head condescendingly.

You were baffled. You could tell you were blushing and you weren’t really sure if you could just blame it on the beer pong loss. You snuck a glance at Minghao, whose attention was back on the party, watching Soonyoung trounce Seokmin quite soundly. He was right, you were terrified for this date.

…

“Ugh you look so cute!” Hana squealed excitedly, “It’s such a shame it’s just for a practice run!”

You chuckled. Sure, it was true that this date with Minghao was just for research purposes, but it hadn’t stopped you from thinking of it as if it were real.

‘wear a dress or skirt. something short or unrestricted at the bottom and shoes you can move in’ was all of the instruction that Minghao had given you.

“Maybe he’s taking you dancing?” Hana wondered aloud. “It’s kinda romantic that he’s keeping everything a surprise!”

“So romantic,” you parroted at her sarcastically.

You didn’t know why, but you felt quite nervous about this one. You had been on more than your fair share of first dates recently, so it really didn’t make sense to feel this way about the fake one. Probably just because everything was a surprise.

“Ya! Why am I nervous!?” you jumped up and down aggressively, shouting at yourself.

Hana shrugged, even though she knew the answer. Best to let you come to your own epiphany. She fretted and cooed the appropriate amount as she helped you finish your makeup and hair. You were satisfied when you looked in the mirror, but that didn’t make your armpits any less sweaty. Thank god for prescription grade antiperspirant.

“Ready?” Minghao greeted you at your door with a bouquet of flowers around half an hour later.

“I think,” you eyed him suspiciously, still irked that he hadn’t spilled a single clue about your activities.

“Put these in water so we can go!” he thrust the bouquet at you impatiently.

“Okay, okay,” you muttered. You scanned the blooms quickly and were pleased and surprised that all of them were cat safe. He’d remembered. You grabbed an empty jar and plunked the stems into it before returning to Minghao. “Is this outfit acceptable?” you paused to check, turning in a full circle so he could inspect.

“Yes,” he nodded, eyes full of something you couldn’t quite place, but it vanished just as quickly. “Now let’s go! We need to be on time.”

Minghao shepherded you into the car and drove towards your destination. You were, strangely, at a loss for words and so spent the time inspecting his car and marveled at how clean it was. Usually you couldn’t stop yourself from babbling about nonsense at him, but this simulated date seemed to have rendered you speechless. As he pulled into the parking lot, your eyes lit up reading the sign.

“Hana was right!” you grinned at him triumphantly. “It is dancing!”

“Yes,” he chuckled at your expression. It wasn’t like you were the one who had guessed right, but he’d never know that with the way you beamed at him. “Intro to Rumba! I thought it’d be fun to try something new together.”

“Rumba?” you thought hard. You weren’t well versed in ballroom dance styles, but the name rang a bell. You had definitely seen it on a ‘Something-est Things To Do With Your Partner’ kind of list. “I don’t know how to dance,” you whispered to Minghao as the other students filtered into the class.

“That’s why it’s fun,” he grinned down at you.

After beating you at beer pong last week, Minghao had been itching to get the upper hand on you again. While he wasn’t very skilled at ballroom, he did have some dance experience from his past. Rumba was also fairly sensual in nature and he would be lying if he said he wasn’t looking forward to watching you squirm and be flustered over it.

With your hands tucked behind your back, you watched intently as the instructors demonstrated the short routine that you would work on during class. You did your best to keep your cool, but you felt like everyone probably heard the sound of your loud gulp as you registered just how close together you would be with Minghao. There was probably technically some distance between the instructors, but not that you could see with the naked eye.

Minghao blinked a few times as he watched the demo with you. This was closer quarters than any other style of dance he had ever tried before and he wondered if he had made a mistake.

“Okay, right hand to left hand. Leading partner’s right hand on the following partner’s waist. Following partner’s left hand resting gently at the back of the leading partner’s neck,” the instructions came.

“Okay, right hand here, left hand here,” you muttered to yourself as Minghao clasped his left hand into your right and you hooked your left hand around the back of his neck. You managed to follow the first set of steps without tripping over yourself too spectacularly, but the next combination threw you for quite the loop.

“So now comes a sexy part,” the instructors grinned mischievously, “Leading is going to spin the following out and then pull them back in to face them. And then following partner is going to drop in a slow and sexy wiggle, their hand trailing down the leading partner’s chest.

Oh. Your lips pursed as your mind painted the mental picture of what that would look like. You resisted the urge to glance furtively at Minghao, pink rising in your cheeks.

Next to you, Minghao blinked. Once, twice, and then one more time for good measure. He had been so busy considering how this class might affect you that he hadn’t even thought of himself. The idea of you trailing your fingertips down the centerline of his chest made him want to shake his head furiously.

“Five, six, seven, eight!” The rapid counts snapped both of you out of your thoughts. “Spin out!”

You held onto Minghao’s fingers tightly as you spun away from him.

“Fancy arm!”

You flung your arm out theatrically and were inordinately pleased to make Minghao laugh.

“Now tuck your arm as you spin back in!” the instructions continued.

You bit your lip to keep from laughing before you brought your arm back to your center and spun into Minghao’s chest. Slowly, your hips drew figure eights as you worked your way down into a squat and your eyes followed your hand’s slow trail down his chest. Like watching a train wreck.

Minghao looked to the instructors for the next directions, desperate to be not looking at you. He wanted to groan. Even in this wordless touch, you were mischievous, not drawing straight down, but rather trailing a wavy line, timed with the movement of your hips on the way down.

“Now leading partner, you are going to pull them back up! Forceful! Dramatic! What are they doing down there? They’re up to no good!”

You had wanted to laugh, but when Minghao dragged you back up to your feet and looked deeply into your eyes…all of that went out the window. For a moment, the directions barked by the instructors faded into the background and all you could hear was a soft buzzing in your ears as you held his gaze.

“Very good, very good you two!” the instructors clapped excitedly as they walked towards you. “Tension! Eye contact! That’s what the rumba is all about, excellent!”

“Thank you!” You almost shouted. You were so excited to be able to rip your eyes away from Minghao that you plastered a wide grin across your face and gave an awkward thumbs up to the whole class.

“How do you do this dance without falling in love with each other?” another student wondered aloud.

“You don’t!” the instructor replied with a laugh. “Every so often you get a pair that falls in love and gets married, but in general you break up but you keep dancing together because you have good physical chemistry.”

“Yikes.” you turned to Minghao with a bemused look on your face. You were relieved to see that the tension seemed to have dissipated and he found your instructor’s comments as strange as you did. The rest of the class passed with relative ease, but the feel of his fingers resting at your waist and nipping into your hips certainly lingered longer than was ideal.

“What’d you think?” Minghao asked as he started driving to the next destination.

“That was fun,” you nodded after some consideration. “Definitely out of the box and a new experience for me. Also a very good way to gauge physical chemistry. Honestly a very good early date activity. Ten out of ten.”

He preened under your compliment. You wondered what your next activity would be, but knew that asking would get you nowhere, so you tried to fill your brain with other thoughts. After a while, you ran out of things to think about and your eyes decided to regard Minghao as he drove. His right hand lingered at the gearshift, fingers tapping every so often as his eyes stayed glued to the road. You shifted in your seat as you watched the tendons of his forearms flex in a very distracting way. The way he looked when he was focused was…unfortunately attractive.

Minghao could feel your eyes on him as he drove. He struggled to keep his attention on the road as his mind played back snippets from class. Namely, the moment when he had pulled you back up to your feet and locked eyes with you for just a little too long. Your eyes had widened and your lips had parted just slightly as you gazed back up at him and rational thought had almost left him completely.

“No, Minghao! Really?!” you squealed excitedly as he pulled into the parking lot of the botanical garden. “You remembered!”

“Of course,” he nodded, parking the car. You had mentioned the Poisonous Plants special exhibit off-handedly a few weeks ago and he had filed it away in his brain. He liked the botanical garden too.

“Look how beautiful!” you gasped as you looked at the Atropa belladonna, or Deadly Nightshade. “I can’t believe a flower this beautiful is also poison! Isn’t that cool? Such a good name too.”

Minghao chuckled. You were making your little frog face again. He didn’t know if he thought of poison as cool, but he enjoyed seeing your excitement over such a morbid topic. The expression you made when you were enthralled by something was painfully endearing to him.

“Thank you for bringing me here,” you wrapped your arms around him excitedly as you headed towards the exit archway of the garden.

“You’re welcome,” Minghao was surprised by your sudden physical affection. “You’re such a nerd, I’m glad you had a good time,” he teased as his arms folded around your waist naturally.

You wrinkled your nose at him playfully. You couldn’t help the slight hitch in your breath before you pulled away, looping your arm in his happily as you walked through the other areas of the garden. This closeness grew less and less foreign as the day went on and was directly correlated to your concern for your own sanity.

…

“So…what do you think?” Minghao inquired after you had settled in at your table at a rooftop restaurant and bar. He really enjoyed the ambiance here and thought you’d enjoy the food as well.

“Of?” you replied blankly, having been busy reading over the menu.

“Our date?” his brows creased together, he had not been expecting that response.

“Oh! Good! Really good, actually,” you nodded, trying to speak of it in a detached way. “You did a really good job picking activities and this restaurant. This menu is so interesting! But at the same time, I feel like you are at an unfair advantage because you know me pretty well by now. I don’t think this is a reasonable expectation to have for a first blind date. I also probably wouldn’t agree to so many things in one day with them, because what if we didn’t hit it off? Also wouldn’t let them drive me because what if they’re a murderer?”

“You think I’d set you up with a murderer?”

“You never know,” you shook your finger at him playfully, “People are full of surprises, unfortunately.”

Minghao watched you as you watched the sunset. He agreed with you, this had been a really good date. For whatever reason, you had leaned into the physical affection at the botanical garden and it had made his brain go haywire. He found that he not only didn’t want this date to end, but he wanted a second and a third (maybe to infinity) with you. He wanted to watch you try really hard at things that you had never done before and wanted to watch you make your little cartoon frog face when you were delighted by something.

“What?” you asked, turning back to meet Minghao’s lingering gaze.

“Nothing. I’m just having a really great time with you today,” he smiled back.

Your smile faltered as your heart pounded. You searched his face for some hint that he was teasing you, like usual, but it wasn’t there.

“Minghao!” an excited voice pulled your attention away suddenly. You turned to see two men, one tall and muscular and the other slighter and shorter.

“Mingyu, Jae,” Minghao waved at them easily, “Coworkers,” he explained to you as they approached. “This is YN.”

“Oh, are you on a date?” the taller man’s eyes flitted between you and Minghao, slowly coming to a realization.

“Wait no. YN. No, they’re not dating!” the other man interjected as he connected his brain cells, “Jeonghan told me about this! You two have been setting each other up on dates, right? Or something like that?”

“That’s right,” you laughed, “So sorry, who’s Mingyu and who’s Jae?”

“Ah, sorry, yes,” Minghao chuckled, “Mingyu and Jae,” he gestured towards them respectively.

“Nice to meet you,” you smiled, unable to help the way your eyes raked over Mingyu. He was your exact physical type and his eyes sparkled obviously at you when he talked.

“Well, we’ll get out of your hair! We were on our way out,” Jae nodded at you after not too long.

“I hope to see you again sometime,” Mingyu smiled at you, leaning down for another handshake before they left. Minghao bristled.

“Him,” you turned to Minghao, oblivious to his irritation. “Set me up with him, he’s my exact type!”

“Mingyu?” Minghao’s nose wrinkled slightly. “You don’t even know him.”

“He’s so hot though,” you exhaled theatrically, not really caring what his personality was like when he had a body like that. “That’s what a blind date is for, right? Blind to the red flags that I don’t want to see.”

Minghao scoffed at your absurdity. On the one hand, Mingyu was a perfectly nice guy. Maybe too eager and bubbly for you, but he trusted that he could treat you well. On the other hand, he had just been grappling with the idea of wanting you for himself, so the two sides of his brains clashed violently and he really had no explanation for the next word that left his mouth.

“Beg.”

“Excuse me?” you must have misheard him.

“Beg me. And I’ll set you up with him,” he leaned back, smirk playing across his lips as he teased you mercilessly.

“P-please?” you stuttered, thighs pressing together inexplicably at the look on his face.

“Cuter,” he goaded you, tongue tracing across his lips as the flush rose in your cheeks. Your heart threatened to stop.

“Hao, please?” your eyes became doe-like and your lower lip pouted out just slightly. You didn’t even know why you were humoring him, you’d never let a man make you beg for anything before.

“There, see? That wasn’t so hard,” he sat back up, clearing his throat slightly as he glanced away. “I’ll set it up,” he nodded, heart sinking in his chest.

“Great,” you smiled, chest feeling tight. Your heart was racing.

…

You found yourself perplexed and kicking a small pebble down the sidewalk after your date with Mingyu. It wasn’t that it had gone poorly, no in fact just the opposite. You were surprised that he had even been available to be set up because he was, on paper, perfect. He was funny, sweet, eager and all in that body? It was simply unfair.

No, the thing that you were confused and frustrated about was that you didn’t really want to go on another date with him. For whatever reason, the only feeling you could muster for him was a lukewarm fondness and it really made you mad. Typically, you would call Minghao to debrief, but you were mad at him too! Your date with him last week was the reason the bar was so unreasonably high now, after all.

“Damn,” you sighed to yourself as you gave the poor pebble another swift kick.

…

Minghao glanced at his phone, irritated to see that you still hadn’t messaged him with any updates. Dinner had to be over by now, right? Normally you at least snuck away to text him from the bathroom, so for his phone to be this dry could only be a sign that the date had gone well. Probably too well.

[mingyu]: ‘dude! YN is wonderful! thank you for setting this up!’

[hao]: ‘ah, so it went well?’

[mingyu]: ‘i think so! she’s cool as hell man’

[mingyu]: ‘she makes such a cute face when she gets excited’

Minghao saw red for a moment. The intensity of his jealousy caught him by surprise and he had to reign himself in before he replied to Mingyu’s text.

[hao]: ‘yeah, i like her too, lol’

Minghao threw his phone onto the sofa. Stupid idiot.

…

[hao]: ‘are you ever going to admit defeat or are you going to just ignore me forever?’

You had been doom scrolling in bed when his text appeared and before you knew it, you were calling him.

“Hey,” his voice was soft when he picked up. The way his heart had jumped when he’d seen your incoming call was unreasonable.

“Hi,” you greeted him, your voice sounded small.

“So…,” Minghao waffled. He didn’t really want to talk about Mingyu, but he wasn’t really sure what else to talk to you about. “Mingyu said he liked you.”

“Oh, did he?” you chuckled, “He seems like the type of person that likes everyone.”

Hao laughed because you weren’t wrong.

“It went well, though, right?” He wished that, like all the other dates, this one had been a dud too.

“It was okay,” you shrugged, “I don’t see myself going on another date with him though, to be honest. He’s a little too…I don’t know?” you trailed off trying to explain.

“Oh?” Minghao’s voice piqued with interest, “Well I’m starting to run out of friends,” he joked.

“I don’t think I want you to set me up with any more of your friends,” you sighed. “No more first dates for a while, I think.”

Minghao froze as he saw his opening. He knew he would forever be kicking himself if he didn’t take the shot now.

“Are you home?”

“Yes?”

“Okay, I’m in the middle of errands, but I’ll be there in ten. I have to ask you something in person.”

“Oh okay.”

Minghao didn’t leave much more room for discussion as he hung up and turned the car around, driving towards your place. You checked your appearance nervously as you waited.

[hao]: ‘here’

Your pulse pounded in your ears as you opened the door for him, more nervous now than you had been for your date.

“Hi,” he greeted you from under a black baseball cap. It was annoying how he looked so good in it. “Can I come in?”

“No,” you joked as you opened the door for him.

“So no more first dates, does that mean you’re officially tapping out of our game?” he asked, looking down at you.

“N-,” your instinct was to push back, but he was right this time. “I mean, yes, I guess so. I’m tired of this meeting people business, I just want to spend time with people that I already like.”

“Would that include me?” he grinned, stepping towards you and until you backed into the kitchen counter.

“I-, I have mixed feelings about you,” you answered honestly, unable to meet his gaze.

“Can I take you out on a second date?” he ducked his head towards yours, hands coming to rest at your hips.

“I-,” you squeezed your eyelids together. In the past you would’ve panicked, but this closeness was now familiar to you and you only wanted to sink into it further. “Maybe you should beg this ti-,” you raised your brows, flicking your eyes mischievously to his.

“Ah!” Minghao cut you off sternly. “I’d think twice about that.”

“But-,” you couldn’t help yourself.

He cut you off with a firm grip at the base of your throat. His longer fingers tapped against the side of your neck as he regarded you sternly. “Will you behave?”

You knew you should say yes. Part of you might have even wanted to say yes, but you were you to your core. “Maybe.”

“We’ll just have to see, won’t we?” he teased you in a sing-songy voice. “Where’s your bedroom?”

“There,” you pointed to a door towards your right. Without so much as a warning, you found yourself being hauled and plunked onto the edge of your bed.

“You have been driving me crazy for months, so let’s see if I can return the favor,” he looked down at you, tongue poking in his cheek.

“Months?” you wondered, thighs squeezing together nervously.

“Yes, months,” Minghao reached out and patted you on the cheek condescendingly. “So picky and difficult about every single person that I set you up with. Were you doing it on purpose or did you really not notice?”

“Not on purpose! They just…,” you trailed off sheepishly.

“What’s that? Speak up.”

“They sucked cause you’re bad at picking,” you squinted at him defiantly. You hated that you loved the way he was treating you.

“Try again?” he grabbed you around the jaw, his fingertips pressing your lips into an unflattering fish face. You could see in his eyes that he wouldn’t humor you for much longer.

“They weren’t you,” came your muffled reply, your lips moving in an exaggerated manner between his long fingers.

“One more time?” Minghao’s eyes danced at you, fingers relinquishing their grip. He wanted to hear it again, clearly.

“They weren’t you!” you replied, sickeningly sweetly eyes creasing into sarcastic half moons as you smiled at him.

“Tch,” he scoffed, pushing you back onto the bed and climbing over you. “You are so difficult,” he shook his head as his eyes raked across you, admiring your shape. “You’re lucky I like you.”

You let out a simpering sigh as his lips nibbled from just behind your earlobe down to your collarbone. His teeth nipped roughly as his fingertips trailed from your knee to your hip and gripped tightly.

“Hao,” you sighed, “Kiss me?”

“Hmm, do you deserve that?” he rebutted, pulling back to look in your eyes.

“Please?” you pouted, tugging at the front of his shirt. “I’ll be good.”

“Somehow I don’t believe you,” he laughed, his lips grazing yours.

“Minghao, please,” you insisted and he indulged you.

Minghao brought his lips to yours, kissing you thoroughly. His hands kneaded possessively at your hip as you nipped at his lips. Your kisses were peppered with soft moans and exaltations.

“You make such desperate sounds,” he teased appreciatively. You flushed at his description, but he wasn’t wrong. “Lay back and let me appreciate you,” he pressed a kiss to your temple before helping you undress completely.

Starting at the bottom of the bed, he trailed soft, plush kisses from your ankles to your knees and then from your knees to your hips. He nipped, bit, and sucked his way up your inner thighs until you were glistening and slick for him. His fingers pried your legs apart, allowing him to taste you for the first time.

“Hao!” your thighs closed instinctively around his ears as he lapped long, leisurely strokes with his tongue. You heard him chuckle as he gripped above your knees, holding you open for him. He teased you with his hot breath, enjoying watching you shift and writhe, just for him.

“So gorgeous,” he rested his cheek against your thigh for a moment, enjoying the way your chest heaved with shallow breaths as you came down from the edge for the second time.

“Ming-hao!” you squealed as he brought his lips back around your clit, sucking with a torturous pressure. “I-, I-, I,” you malfunctioned, hand gripping his hair tightly as you came hard against his lips.

“Very good,” he grinned up at you, his lips and chin glossy with your slick. “Can I finger you now?”

“I mean, yes?” you laughed nervously, a little concerned at what his hands would be able to achieve after experiencing his mouth alone.

“Don’t cum until I say so,” he directed as his fingertips slid through your wet folds. “You are so wet,” he commented offhandedly as he pressed two fingers in a v-shape against you, squeezing around your swollen clit. Your mouth formed a silent ‘o’ shape as he ground his fingers against you, avoiding direct contact where you wanted it most.

“Hao,” you cried, hand resting around his wrist as you squirmed helplessly under him. “Why are you torturing me?!”

Minghao paused for a moment. He supposed he was going a bit more out of his way to undo you than was typical for him. It wasn’t fair, but his pent up jealousy was manifesting and you were there to pay the price.

“Are you telling me you don’t like it?” he asked, cocking his head at you.

“Well, no,” you blushed, sinking into the pillow shyly.

“Then let me torture you a bit, sweetheart,” he grinned sweetly at you, fingers pinching together firmly around your clit again. “You’re so incredibly wet, just for me?” he marveled rhetorically as he slid two fingers into you, parting your wet, warm walls.

“Yes,” you nodded, pressing your hips up to meet him. You rolled your hips, desperate for as much as he would give. “More,” you begged until he added a third finger, stretching you slightly.

“Look at you,” Hao cooed appreciatively, nipping at your upper thigh as he stroked his fingers in and out of your deeply. The scrape of his teeth oversensitized you suddenly and you became a whimpering, desperate mess quickly.

“Hao, please, darling,” you clutched at him urgently, “I need, please let me cum!”

“Cum for me, darling,” he cooed the pet name back at you as he kept up the pace until you had collapsed into a pile of mush for him. “So good,” he praised you, pressing soft kisses along your jaw as you recomposed yourself.

“Blurple?” you asked, now that you had the presence of mind to register his hair color. “This is pretty,” you grinned, running your fingers through the colorful strands.

“You’re pretty,” he nuzzled you gently, fingertips trailing across the underside of your breasts.

“Oh,” you flushed.

“You are.”

“You are…wearing too many clothes,” you observed impishly, fingers tugging at his waistband. He laughed as he helped you shrug off his layers.

“How would you like me?”

Minghao visibly thought as he slipped on a condom. “You would look absolutely gorgeous on top of me, riding me,” he smiled.

You flushed, grinning at his flowery praise as you straddled his hips, grinding yourself along his length. Your hands splayed across his chest and you took a moment to admire his lithe physique. “So handsome,” you whispered before lowering yourself onto him slowly.

“Fuck,” he hissed as you took him in completely. The tendons in his neck were taut as you drew back up and back down.

“You feel good, Hao,” you breathed, holding onto him for support as your hips found a comfortable rhythm. Each stroke, each intrusion made you shudder with pleasure and the wet sounds were joined by your soft moans and Minghao’s tense hisses.

“You feel incredible, petal,” he grabbed you tightly around the ribcage, bringing you down on him with slightly more force. You faltered at the additional impact.

“I’m so close,” you leaned forward, looking directly into Minghao’s eyes. Nodding, he gripped your hips, grinding your clit against his pubic crest as he bucked up, deeply, into you.

“Come with me, YN,” he coaxed breathlessly. The way he purred your name undid you. An anguished wail left your lips as you clenched around him, triggering his release as well.

“So did I earn a second date?” Minghao teased as he folded you into his chest, cuddling you closely.

“I think you might have,” you grinned up at him, pressing a soft kiss to his nose.

“Danbi is going to be happy when she finds out about this,” Minghao chuckled into your hair.

“Oh we’re never going to hear the end of it,” you moaned. “Maybe let’s no-”

“Ah,” he reached to press your jaw shut and you stilled. You delighted at this subtle, domineering action. Quite a match indeed.

#minghao fic #svthub #minghao fluff #minghao smut #the8 fic #the8 smut #the8 fluff #seventeen fic #seventeen smut #seventeen fluff #minghao imagine #minghao scenario #the8 imagine #the8 scenario #seungkwansphd:writes #we get along infamously #minghao fanfic #the8 fanfic

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soopersara · 10 months

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Zutara Week 2023: Day 1

Read it on AO3 | @zutaraweek

A journey across the Earth Kingdom to find Zuko's mother comes to an end.

She can’t sleep.

It isn’t that she’s not tired. After several weeks of near-constant travel, this is the first night that they’ve had the luxury of leaving their tent packed away, the first night when she and Zuko have been able to rest without first scraping together a meal for themselves and all their friends. By all rights, they should both be exhausted, and this night of stillness and solitude should be a relief.

But she can sense Zuko lying awake beside her, staring up into the darkened rafters of the barn. Though he is quiet, though he is careful not to move too much, the tension alone is enough to keep her awake.

Her fingertips brush against his arm. “Zuko, you should try to sleep.”

He gives a start and turns to meet her eyes. “Oh! I—” There is a pause, and even in the dark, she can see him swallow. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to keep you awake.”

Katara almost wants to laugh. His restlessness has made it difficult to sleep, that much is true. But it isn’t so much that he’s been keeping her awake as it is that the stillness feels unnatural. Ordinarily, he is a quiet sleeper, but ordinarily, lying beside him doesn’t feel like lying next to a statue. If he weren’t trying so hard to keep from disturbing her, she might have drifted off a long time ago.

She nestles in against his shoulder and loops her hand idly around his. “I would have sworn that you were more tired than me.”

His head tilts in her direction. “Why would I be?”

“Why wouldn’t you?” she counters. “Today was—a lot.”

He grunts by way of acknowledgement. “I guess.” A small sigh, and though he seems to deflate a bit, the tension doesn’t leave. “I just have a lot on my mind. Don’t worry about it. You should sleep.”

She ignores that last part. She knows Zuko well enough to realize that despite what he might say, he’s never really expected their search to succeed. That after a few weeks of chasing fruitless leads around the Earth Kingdom, he’d practically resigned himself to returning home empty-handed. That splitting off from the others to follow their last few leads was less a matter of making their search more efficient than it was an effort to draw the journey to a close before he could succumb to guilt over wasting the others’ time.

But they’ve been away from the others less than a day, and already it feels like all of that has changed. Like maybe, just maybe, they’ve found his mother purely by accident.

“Do you really think we found her?”

“I know we did.” His voice, though soft, grows more intense. “Noriko is my mother. I would know her anywhere. I just—I didn’t think that she would have a new family.”

Katara raises her head just far enough to see his jaw tightening and traces her thumb softly along his jawline. “She has a new daughter, not a new family. No one is replacing you.”

They’ve both done the calculations by now. Kiyi is nearly eight years old, and Ursa has been gone for eight and a half years. If they’re right about Noriko and she really is Zuko’s mother in disguise, then Ursa was almost certainly pregnant before she left the palace behind. If they’re right, then Kiyi is almost certainly every bit as royal as he is.

If they’re right, then Ursa has almost certainly stayed in hiding for fear of what the world might do to another little Fire Nation princess.

“Even if Kiyi is my sister, I don’t know if that means much,” he says. “Noriko didn’t remember me. How could my own mother forget if she still cared about her old family?”

Slowly, Katara rolls onto her back to stare into the rafters along with him. “What if she didn’t forget?”

“She didn’t recognize me. She would have said something if she did.”

A frown finds its way across Katara’s lips. She remembers the brief flashes of confused uncertainty on Noriko’s face when they arrived, guiding Kiyi back from where she’d gotten lost in the forest. Katara remembers the surprised delight in Kiyi’s eyes and voice when Noriko invited them to spend the night as repayment for guiding Kiyi back unharmed. And Katara remembers all the pauses after that when Noriko would watch Zuko, brows furrowed like she could almost recognize him.

It's hard to know whether Zuko missed all of those moments, or if he’s just too afraid to hope.

“I’m not so sure about that.” She clasps Zuko’s hand again and traces a thumb across his knuckles. “It’s been a long time, Zuko. Even if she remembers you, she might not know how to say it. And I’m sure you look—different now than you used to.”

“She’s never seen my scar before,” he concedes after a pause. “Maybe she doesn’t want anything to do with me because of that.”

Frowning, Katara pokes him in the ribs. “That’s not what I meant. You know that.”

“Then what did you mean?”

She takes a moment to find the proper words. “You’ve always told me that your mother did everything she could to protect you. That she took care of you when no one else would. So now—maybe she’s ashamed. She thought leaving would keep you safe, but it didn’t work out that way.”

Zuko is quiet for a while. Then, “I guess you could be right.”

“You don’t sound very sure about that.”

He sighs. “How can I be sure? I haven’t seen her in years. And since then—so much as changed.” For a few long seconds, he goes quiet again. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do if it turns out that my own mother doesn’t want me anymore.”

All Katara can really do is snuggle closer against his side. “I don’t think that’s going to happen. I think she’ll see how easy it is to love you just the way you are.” Her hand rests softly on his chest, just near enough to the scar at the base of his sternum to feel the ridges at its edge. “But no matter what happens, you’re not going to be alone. I’ll still be here. You’ll always have a family, I promise.”

Zuko’s chest shudders ever so slightly as he exhales, and he wraps an arm around her. Though he can’t seem to find any more words, his embrace speaks volumes all on its own.

⁂

It’s still early, just past sunrise, when the barn door creaks below them. Katara tenses, and Zuko edges toward the ladder, but before either of them can do more, a small head pokes up into the loft.

“I knew it. Mom told me not to wake you up too early, but I knew you’d already be awake.” Kiyi clambers up the last few rungs into the loft, then grins at them both. “I brought some tea.”

The pot in her hand isn’t steaming, and the cups balanced upside down on its lid are battered and chipped, but she settles in the middle of the floor, looking pleased with herself just the same.

“It might be a little old.” Kiyi bends over far enough to squint down the teapot’s spout. “But I think Mom just made it last night. That’s not so bad, right?”

Zuko cracks a smile and sits an arm’s length away from her. “I don’t think so. But I have an uncle who really likes tea, and he might try to disown me if he ever heard me say that.”

Kiyi cocks her head to the side, then thumps a cup in front of Zuko. “He sounds silly.” She thumps a second cup down next to Zuko’s and motions for Katara to sit as well. “This one is for you.”

There is something in her frankness that makes Katara smile. Though she still can’t be as certain as Zuko that Ursa and Noriko are one and the same, it’s impossible to deny the fact that Kiyi looks a great deal like Zuko. If she isn’t his little sister, then the universe has done an uncannily good job at replicating both his features and his mannerisms.

Though the tea that Kiyi pours them is cold, Zuko shows no hesitation in drinking it. Katara takes a more hesitant sip—the tea is slightly bitter, but not so much as to be especially unpleasant. Kiyi looks pleased with herself when they’ve both tasted the tea, and she settles back against a crate, happily cradling her own cup between her hands.

“Where is Noriko?” Katara asks. “If she told you not to wake us—”

“Oh, I think she’s still sleeping.” Kiyi takes a sip from her cup. “But last night, she told me a lot of stuff about good manners around guests. I think Mom thought I was going to make a lot of noise because we’ve never had guests before, but it’s not like I was going to say anything if you were still asleep.”

At that, Zuko looks a bit surprised. “You’ve never had guests before?”

“Nope. Ever since I was a baby, Mom said that our house was just for family. The garden is for friends, but it would be impolite to make people sleep in the garden.”

“I see.”

Katara feels Zuko glancing her way, and she allows her hand to brush against his. That sort of paranoia would certainly make sense coming from Ursa. Keeping both friends and strangers from the house makes perfect sense if she’s on the run from the Fire Nation. And since Zuko and Katara have been allowed to stay—albeit in the barn instead of the house—maybe Ursa really does recognize Zuko after all this time.

Kiyi leans forward conspiratorially. “Do you want to know a secret, though? Me and Mom don’t have any other family. I don’t think so anyway. When I was really little, I think she told me that I had a big brother and sister, but I never met them.” Briefly, she frowns, cocking her head to the side. “I wonder if Mom thinks you’re my brother.”

It isn’t a question, and judging by the look on Zuko’s face, he probably wouldn’t be able to answer if it were. Katara squeezes his hand, and after a few seconds’ pause, he regains his composure.

“I guess I don’t know what she thinks. It was nice of her to let us stay either way.”

If she notices his hesitance, Kiyi seems unbothered by it. So unbothered, in fact, that rather than continuing the topic, she launches into a series of cheerful stories about her life with her mother—about journeys that take the two of them on crisscrossing paths across the northern Earth Kingdom every year. About riding from town to town on a cart drawn by their ostrich horse, meeting people from far-flung places, and exploring distant mountains and forests for new plants to bring back home.

Noriko, it seems, has carved out a life for herself where travel is both normal and expected. Where her work as an herbalist and chemist takes her on regular journeys for new ingredients and seeds, for customers and colleagues. Where, if her old life ever reemerges to endanger herself and her daughter, their escape will draw no notice whatsoever.

“I thought I was really good at directions,” Kiyi says, sounding a little sheepish. “Me and Mom go lots of places together, and I’ve never been lost before. But I guess I don’t play in the woods here at home very much, otherwise I wouldn’t have got lost yesterday. I still feel kinda silly.”

Zuko shakes his head. “You don’t have to feel silly about that. Everybody gets a little lost sometimes.”

“Even if they travel a lot?”

“Even then. For a few years, I lived on a ship, and it’s still hard to find my way sometimes.” There is a steadiness to his voice, and judging by the way that Kiyi beams at him, the reassurance is welcome.

“Maybe I’ll learn how to draw maps someday,” she says. “Then I won’t get lost ever again. And maybe I can give you some of my maps too.”

Zuko seems ready to reply, but before any words make it out of his mouth, the door below them creaks again.

“Kiyi? Are you in here, sweetheart?”

“Up here, Mama!”

There is a relieved-sounding sigh, and Noriko emerges at the top of the ladder a few moments later. “I thought I told you to give our guests their privacy. Come on. We’ll go back to the house, and they can join us for breakfast when they’re ready.” She gives them both an apologetic nod, but it’s painfully obvious that Noriko is trying not to stare at Zuko.

“But they’re already awake, Mama. We’re having tea.”

Katara shoots a glance at Zuko, and as he inhales, his shoulders tense. Gently, she loops her hand through his and gives a reassuring squeeze.

Noriko climbs the last few steps into the loft. “I understand that. I’m glad you didn’t wake them, but it’s impolite to—”

After another slow breath, Zuko squeezes back and pushes carefully to his feet.

“Wait.” His voice is soft and hesitant, but Noriko freezes stone-still, eyes alight with nervous hope. “This might sound strange, but I’ve been meaning to ask you—was there ever a time when you went by the name Ursa?”

Noriko’s eyes widen, and for a moment, it looks like she might faint. But then, just as quickly, she steps forward. “It is you. Oh, my sweet boy.” Though Zuko stands a full head taller than his mother, she sweeps him up in an embrace like he’s still a little boy. “My little Zuko.”

It’s enough to make Katara’s eyes burn, and as she blinks away the prickling, Kiyi scoots sideways until their shoulders nearly brush.

“Was I right before?” Kiyi asks in a whisper after a few moments watching the reunion. “Do I have a big brother for real?”

Smiling, Katara wipes her eyes and nods. “Yes. Are you okay with that?”

For a few seconds, Kiyi frowns, apparently deep in thought. Then, “If he’s my brother, are you gonna be my sister someday?”

“I think there’s a pretty good chance of that.”

A grin breaks across Kiyi’s face. “Then this is the best day ever!”

#zutara #zutara fanfiction #zutara week #zutaraweek #zutara week 2023 #zutaraweek2023 #Home #soopersara's scribbles

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she-posts-nerdy-stuff · 30 days

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Don’t Go Blindly Into The Dark

Summary:

To hide that he can't read, Jan Van Eck has been forcing his son to pretend he's blind since he was eight years old. Wylan is now attending Ketterdam University, and meeting Jesper Fahey may very well be about to change his life. But is he safe to tell Jesper the truth? And what will Jesper say if he does?

Jesper is struggling to weigh up his life in the Barrel and his life at the University of Ketterdam, and there's a good chance that his growing debt is about to make the decision for him. He hasn't attended class consecutively for months, but maybe that will change when his newest project includes partnering up with Wylan Van Eck. But can he really leave the Barrel behind him? And how long can he keep up the pretence of who he thinks Wylan wants him to be?

Meanwhile there is a darkness growing in Ketterdam, and it seems a killer may be stalking the streets of West Stave. An unknown evil is closing its jaws over the city, and it’s starting to feel like nowhere is safe.

Tags: @justalunaticfangirl @lunarthecorvus @i-need-help-this-is-my-obsession @devoted-people-hater

If anyone else would like to be tagged let me know :)

Content warnings for this chapter: gambling addiction, implied alcoholism, implied child abuse references

AO3 link

Chapter 57 - Jesper

Jesper couldn’t remember the last time he’d got a good night’s sleep, but despite his exhaustion one was apparently avoiding him tonight. He lay on his back, staring at the ceiling because he’s given up on closing his eyes by this point, listening to the sound of the Dregs downstairs in the Slat. Somewhere down the hall he heard what distinctly sounded like someone throwing up, and grimaced. Whatever sickness had wormed its way into Layla had still not released its grip on her, and though it didn’t seem to be spreading at the minute Kaz had ordered her locked alone in her room with only Anika moving in and out. Anika had not been happy.

“Just make sure she’s still alive,” Kaz had said, impatiently.

“Why me?”

“You heard me, now keep moving. I have more pressing issues to deal with than Layla hacking her guts up, don’t make yourself a problem,”

Anika made a disgruntled sound that Jepser didn’t know the right word to explain, before marching off down the corridor mumbling something, which was doubtlessly less than complimentary, under her breath.

How long had it been, now, that Layla was ill? Three days? That was unlike her. Whatever this was, it must be bad; Jesper did not fancy getting anywhere close to it.

He blinked in the dark, the eaves on his far wall, his mind empty and yet moving far too fast. What time was it? He might as well have stayed at the tables. Maybe he could go now. He probably shouldn’t. But if he wasn’t going to sleep anyway… Well, what was the harm?

He stood and lit a candle on his table, dim light but enough to get by, and swapped his nightclothes for a shirt and trousers, as well as one of his favourite orange waistcoats. It was only then that he picked up the pocket watch he’d discarded on the table when he’d arrived last night - he hadn’t worn it today - to discover that the face was cracked and the time now permanently read four bells quarter chime. Dammit. He’d only bought this about a month ago, as well. How many perfectly good watches was he determined to break? Well, actually ‘good’ might have been a bit of an overstatement; all of the watches had been cheap and to be entirely honest a bit crappy, but the point was that they kept time and he couldn’t afford to keep buying new ones. He’d broken so many that he was starting to think that his drunken self had some kind of unfinished business with clocks.

Still, he guessed it was probably somewhere near to two bells as he shucked on his jacket and began to head down the stairs. Pietro could be heard down the landing fruitlessly arguing with someone, probably Anika, to be let into Layla’s room, and beyond that there was the general, ever-present hum of activity that always circulated the Slat; it was both always different and always the same. There was always gossip, but it was always new, and there were always jokes and stories and shouting and laughter and sometimes some of that changed, but not often. What was the popular topic tonight? The Hoede house, it sounded like, as Jesper drifted through. Unsurprising. Even the Barrel had caught wind of the stadwatch crawling all over Councilman’s Hoede’s mansion earlier this week, and had grabbed onto the rumours of a plague outbreak with both hands. Jesper’s gaze slipped upwards, towards Layla’s room. Let’s hope not, he thought, or we really might be screwed.

The death of the Zemeni Trade Ambassador was also on the table for this evening’s buffet, but by the sounds of things that was quickly becoming old news. Kaz would cling to it, Jesper was sure; he hated a puzzle he couldn’t solve, and this seemed an impossible one.

“Not even you could’ve done that,” Jesper had said to Inej, two days ago, lounging across a chair at the back of the Slat.

Inej, perched opposite him with her feet tucked beneath her, poised upon her toes as though prepared to leap away at a moment’s notice, raised an eyebrow.

“Who says I didn’t?”

Jesper barked a laugh, earning a smile from Inej, but she’d had to concede defeat in the end - both that she couldn’t have done it herself, and that she had no idea how the feat had been achieved.

“Well,” Jesper stood up and took Inej’s hand, pressing it briefly to his lips before he began to walk away, “we’d better figure it out, or Kaz is going to be unbearably smug when he does,”

Inej laughed, then spun and leant over the back of the chair to watch him leave.

“Where are you going?”

“The Crow Club,” he said, turning to walk backwards so they could see each other, “I’ll only be a few hours. You should get some sleep,”

“I should be so lucky,” she shook her head, “My shift starts in an hour,”

Jesper nodded, though they both knew he was studying the gathering shadows beneath her eyes, and then spun on the feel of his boot to continue walking.

“Maybe you should take your own advice,” she called after him.

He’d pretended not to hear.

Jesper had been pretty accurate, unless the clock on the wall in the Slat was also broken, in his guess at the time. He slipped out the front door at about two bells half chime and began to wander the short distance North towards the Crow Club.

The night was busy, but they always were. The streets were flooded with figures halfway between clambering free and crawling deeper into the dark. No-one came down these streets to light the lamps anymore and their tall, burnt out carcasses peered down over the moths that had found new lights to chase in their absence. They moved like one creature of a thousand limbs; or like the canals of the city itself, flowing where they thought they wanted to, not knowing or not caring that they were always being directed, guided, controlled, by the riverbed below and the rocks around them and the sky and sun and moon high above their heads. Even the air felt busy, tight and pressing, crowding in close as though there was a ceiling somewhere above East Stave that kept it penned in as the pressure built higher and higher. Where was the release? What would give first?

Jesper imagined some invisible glass shattering over all of it, and came to the conclusion that he clearly needed to relax and have a drink.

“Are you listening to me?”

Probably not. Jesper blinked, tried not to yawn, rubbed the sleep from one of his eyes as he tried to nod and almost face planted straight onto the table.

“Yeah, yeah,” he sighed, “Sorry. Listening,”

Nina only shook her head, then thumped her palm hard against the table so Jesper jumped and jerked upwards.

“That was uncalled for,”

“Really?” she asked, drily, “And what was I talking about?”

“Erm… Feliks is pissing you off and…” Jesper waved his hand vaguely, “something or other,”

“No - well, yes, but that wasn’t really what I was talking about. Do you want a coffee?”

Saints, yes. Jesper gratefully accepted when Nina left and returned with two cups of coffee in her hands, pretending he wasn’t tempted to snatch hers too and drink them both. They were sitting in a cafe on one of the winding little streets off East Stave; it wasn’t the prettiest place to look at, but it served blissfully strong coffee and blissfully low prices, so it was good enough for Jesper.

“So, remind me?” he asked, spooning sugar into his mug.

“Van Eck keeps asking me to go back,” Nina sighed, picking up the little milk jug, “and I’m ignoring him, but Feliks wants me to go,”

Jesper nodded, slowly, then he sipped his coffee. He wanted to be delicate - Nina still hadn’t told anyone, or at least not Jesper, what had happened on her second visit to the Van Eck mansion and he expected that if he pushed he’d end up getting nowhere. Although maybe she’d brought it up in hopes he’d ask? Jesper decided to tread lightly, and if she wanted to tell him anything he was sure she would.

“Why does he want you back?”

Nina shrugged.

“The same shit as before, but I can’t keep Feliks at bay forever the man’s a bloodhound for cash and Van Eck has too much of it to pass up on. I don’t know what to do,”

“Talk to Kaz?” Jesper offered, a little half-heartedly because he had no doubt that Nina had either already tried Kaz or had her reasons not to go to him.

He wasn’t going to press any further on the Van Eck matter; if Nina wanted to tell him anything that would’ve been her opening, and if Jesper thought about that skiv for too long he was going to end up putting his fist through something and getting them thrown out - and he couldn’t afford to start going to a different cafe.

“I guess,” Nina released a heavy sigh into her coffee as she lifted the mug towards her face, “I need to talk to him anyway about,” she glanced briefly around the mostly unoccupied coffee shop, “the contract,”

Jeluna’s contract, Jesper assumed. He nodded as Nina took a sip of her coffee, then frowned and added another splash of milk.

“I think I’m making progress on Anya, by the way,” she added, “Since you’re sure to see Wylan before me,”

Ignoring that last comment, which Nina had added with an unsubtle smile, Jesper frowned slightly as he said:

“Anya?”

“Wylan’s friend? She’s a Healer; he asked me to look for her. She used to be at the Van Eck house but he doesn’t know what happened when she left - or, when he moved her elsewhere. I haven’t found anything yet but, just if you see him, let him know I’m trying,”

Jesper nodded.

“Yeah, sure,” he sipped his coffee, “Speaking of whom, erm… Raske told me, the other day, that he fainted in the workshop this week,”

Nina looked up sharply and Jesper knew that both of them were remembering Wylan’s terror when he woke up. Jesper didn’t know if Wylan had been alright, Raske hadn’t said anything of it he hadn’t been, but it was the collapsing that concerned him.

“What could-?”

The little bell above the door pinged as it rattled its way open and loud chatter filled the air. Both of them glanced up to see a group of about five or six, jostling and shouting, their Black Tips tattoos on full display. This was the problem with the cheap places, of course; everybody went to them.

Nina turned quickly back to face Jesper, her fingers tensing on around her cup.

“Almost done?” she asked, her voice falsely light, her hand moving to press fingers against the mug and show him how many weapons she had noticed.

Jesper was already standing up as he replied, resisting the urge to lay hands on his revolvers. If the Black Tips thought he was reaching for a gun they might draw themselves, and then what kind of mess were they going to get into?

They left without an obvious hurry but still with a slightly hastened step. As much as Jesper wasn’t one to run from a fight, he didn’t much like their odds against a larger group. And anyway, there was sure to be plenty of time for that at tomorrow’s parley.

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xxx-inhibitionless-xxx · 1 month

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Chapter 63 : Day Three ( Matt’s Afternoon part 3 )

Matt stopped just before turning the last corner and stripped off his pants. Please still be here when this over, Matt said to the pants and the trail of clothes he had left behind, I can’t afford to lose any more work clothes. Recalling the events of the other night, Matt realized that Alex never did get a chance to buy him a new pair of workpants to replace the ones that had been cut to shreds a couple nights ago.

As terrifying as the events of that night had started out, with Alex, Jason, and the other frat brothers ganging up on Matt and his friends Brian and Aaron, that encounter had at least turned out to be rather exhilarating. Matt had even managed to make a friend out it. At least he hoped Alex considered him friend because Matt certainly thought of Alex as one. Even though the frat pack had basically done the same thing the mall gang had done to him last night, Matt didn’t think there was much chance he was going to make any friends out of this group, or end up enjoying anything this group was going to do anywhere near as much.

Now standing in just his underwear, Matt tossed the pants against the wall and headed around the corner wishing he had worn a better pair. When he had rushed to dress this morning, he had simply grabbed the nearest pair of boxers. It just happened to be a raggedy pair barely holding together by the waistband. To add insult to injury, they also happened to be a pair Brian and Aaron had given to him as a gag gift, so they were covered with baby pacifiers.

Matt had a terrifying flashback to the previous night and having to get Alex to wear a diaper after getting his clothes from him. Great, he muttered to himself, diapers and pacifiers. Looking to the ceiling, he continued saying to himself, please don’t be trying to tell me something. As he came around the corner dressed only in the raggedy pair of pacifier boxers, he instantly recognized the entire gang of mall thugs from the previous night who had stripped him and tied him to the stairwell they were all now standing in front of.

You’re lucky bruh, the leader said to him, we almost gave up on you. I’m glad to see you can follow instructions too, the leader said to him waving a finger in acknowledgement of Matt’s smooth five-foot-eight underwear clad body. Although, he continued stifling a laugh, personally, I would have worn a pair of big boy boxers, but hey, whatever.

And maybe ones that weren’t falling apart either, one of the gang members added. The entire group started laughing at that point, unable to contain themselves any longer.

Yeah, Matt acknowledged apprehensively, can we just get this over with ? What is it you want me to do ? Streak the mall, Matt continued to ask, or are you planning on tying me to the stairs again ?

Oh no bruh, the leader smirked, but we are going for a ride.

What, Matt questioned with concern in his voice, what do you mean ? I’m not going anywhere with you. Matt immediately began to worry about what the gang leader had in mind and what he meant by go for a ride. Going for any kind of ride would imply they were going to leave the mall which meant not only going outside wearing just the raggedy boxers he had on but that he would have to leave his clothes behind.

Having to strip off quickly to get here in time had meant that Matt had been forced to drop or toss his clothes to the side as he took them off. He didn’t have time to stash them or hide them anywhere, so they were still just lying on the ground in the other hallway Matt had just come from. Matt had been hoping to be able to just go back and get them after the gang had their fun, but if he went with them, chances are that his clothes would be long gone by the time he ever got back to where they were.

Chill out bruh, the leader said as he extended a palm indicating for Matt to calm down, we’re not going to hurt you, we’re just going for a little ride is all. We need to have you somewhere else is all, the leader continued, I promise.

Oh, you promise, Matt asked sarcastically, and that’s supposed to make me feel any better ?

Doesn’t matter, the leader said to him, you can feel however you want, either way, we’re going for a ride. He nodded his head and waved his hand motioning for the other gang members to get into a position surrounding Matt. Then, he continued to explain his plan, you’re going to make a call. So, you have a choice bruh, the leader said to Matt with no indication of really offering him a choice, you can come with us, or we can take you with us.

#enm stripped humiliation #enmstory #enm #forced nudity #cmnm

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loverlylight · 9 months

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Sometimes it's just... I dunno, odd trying to build up to being a functioning human again. And I have made a lot of progress, but sometimes it's odd what I still haven't got back, if that makes sense? Putting a read more because this got long and talks about suicidal ideation and all that.

Like, eight months ago, I was just blank. I could respond physically to stuff, but I was in so much emotional pain my mind was just not really there, I couldn't speak much and from what I've been told when I did speak it was very dull and unemotional. I couldn't force myself to do anything I did not have to do, and my body was also barely functioning because of all the breathing issues and weakness and the fact that I was somehow hoping I could starve myself to death without anyone noticing which yeah is stupid but I wasn't in the best state of mind, and anyway that resulted in me several times just sitting motionless for hours doing nothing. There were multiple times where I'd go days without eating, or forcing myself to eat but being unable to keep from crying because I knew eating was keeping me alive which I did not want, and I obviously wasn't keeping track but mom estimated that days when I would eat I'd have like 500 calories a day. And I either wanted to die or was thinking about how I could follow through on that desire in a way that would cause the least amount of trouble for people. (I remember one time, since I live on the second floor, I was weighing jumping out the window but decided that not only would that likely not flat out kill me but that we live right near this tiny playground our complex has and I was like okay I don't want to risk a kid coming across me and getting traumatized or anything. Also had a serious discussion with my sister about whether it would be better for her & the family if I died for my body to be found or not.) There were a lot of times when I got up to the edge of taking action, sometimes I would have tried if my body had more energy, and then when I finally did try but stopped myself in time, and... I dunno. Basically, for the longest time I was completely unable to do pretty much anything.

And now, like, I'm getting better at stuff. I can't be anywhere too crowded or without having a way to leave if things get to be too much, but I'm able to drive again, and more than just down the street. I'm able to interact with the world and other people, even though it's still kinda shaky and different. I consistently eat two meals a day, I still fall down multiple times a day but I'm able to go on a full walk around the block, but I'm just... I just find it kinda weird what my brain's doing, like I'm able to take some initiative to connect with other people but it's a lot... shallower on my end, for lack of a better term. I still care about people very much, but the ability to do something about that care is not very strong. Like, gifts, in past years I've put a lot of thought into not just the gift but also like how I'd wrap it and the type of tag and all that, but this year while I still got people gifts, I didn't have the mental energy to put in the thought I'd have liked to. Anyway, I have gotten this far and lack of sleep is catching up to me so, uh, bye.

#my mind is an odd place

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darklordazalin · 1 year

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Azalin reviews: Darklord Bluebeard

Domain: Blaustein Domain Formation: 643 BC Power Level: 💀 ⚫⚫⚫⚫ (1/5 skulls) Sources: Domains of Dread (2e), Darklords (2e), Ravenloft Player’s Handbook (3e), VRGTR (5e)

Bluebeard is the Darklord of Blaustein within the Sea of Sorrows. His tiny island is made up of his castle (creatively named “Bluebeard’s Castle”) and a single village.

Bluebeard was an ugly yet charming man with enough wealth to offset his repugnant features. Nowadays, I don’t believe his blue facial hair would really amount to such disdain, but one never knows. Though even if his beard was a more “natural” color, it is his personality, or lack thereof, that most truly distain.

Bluebeard is from an unknown land and who’s distrust and pettiness lead him to kill every single woman who agreed to marry him. Why did they keep on agreeing to marry someone who’s wives continually died or went missing? Well, he was said to be a kind and just ruler, which led many to overlook his otherwise glaring faults. How could such a seemingly benevolent lord murder all of his wives? I imagine that’s what his people asked one another as they heard screams echoing down from his castle…

Bluebeard would marry a young woman and expect absolute loyalty and obedience from them. Trust me, regardless of how powerful you may be, this is not a realistic expectation to have in one’s spouse. To test their obedience, after a month of marriage, Bluebeard would go on a trip and give his wife a number of keys that opened various doors in the castle. He told them they could go anywhere they wished, except a small room on the top floor of a tower. This room was locked with a golden key and he forbade his wife to go within.

Each woman he married let their curiosity win over their obedience and used the golden key to enter the room. What they found within was a room stained in blood and the dead bodies of Bluebeard’s previous wives suspended on hooks hanging from the ceiling. Though, I suppose his first wife just found an empty room. That must have been very disappointing, though preferable over what the other wives found. The golden key, when used to open the door to this room, became stained with blood. No one but Bluebeard could remove the stain.

Upon returning from his trip, Bluebeard would demand the keys from his wife and upon seeing the blood stain on the golden key, he would feign disappointment, kill his bride, and hang her in the room with the rest of his dead wives. After eight or so wives, Bluebeard was claimed by the Mists.

Our tormentors were so kind to gift him with some of the most ridiculous boons. He is no longer exceedingly physically ugly, he can erase his misdeeds from the memories of his subjects, and every single one of those subjects, including his dead wives, are fanatically loyal to him. Now, this ability of his to change their minds only works on those native to Blaustien, so it is no where near my own abilities and something I managed to achieve on my own. Oh and he’s a living lie detector. Handy. I’d like to have him interview a certain vampire someday.

At night, his wives freely roam his castle as spectres and show their husband their devotion, but he rebuffs them, disgusted with their undead forms. Now whenever Bluebeard courts a woman from Blaustien, they take on the appearance of one of his wives in their undead form, a smirk always upon their face. No one else sees this and it seems to only affect women native to Blaustien...which, naturally, leads Bluebeard to seek out wives in other realms, though their fate is always the same. A golden key, a room of dead brides, and another murder.

In Van Richten’s new guide, Blaustien is no longer considered its own Domain and Bluebeard’s wives have overthrown him and entertain him with endless torment. Perhaps the Dark Powers decided the woman had suffered enough at his hands and it was now his turn to endure a true punishment? I would venture that none of his boons exist any longer. Perhaps they have transferred to his countless wives.

Despite all of the boons the Dark Powers once granted him, Bluebeard was always just a petty, distrustful, mortal man. A mere insect to be swatted away and a Darklord who cannot even control the Misty borders that surround his so-called Domain. I am reluctant to give him a single skull.

#bluebeard #ravenloft #darklordreviews #azalin rex #dnd #blaustein #clearly this is taken directly from the French folktale of the same name

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monako-jinn-stories · 2 years

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Crosshair X FemReader FanFic

It Started With a Vacation

Main Master List

Story Master List

Chapter Twenty Six

Chapter Twenty Eight (18+)

Chapter Twenty Eight (PG)

Chapter Twenty Seven

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PAY ATTENTION TO THE WARNINGS IN THIS CHAPTER!! I included a scene of unwanted advances, and then mentions of those advances after they happen. I do not want to make anyone uncomfortable or trigger any sort of reaction to these, so please, if you do not want to read these parts, look for the warnings before and after so that you can skip over them.

The next morning, you woke up to an empty bed and the sound of deep singing coming from outside of your bedroom. With a mind still tired from sleep, you yawned and threw the covers off, standing and wandering out to your living room. You yawned again and blinked away your sleep, and when you did, you saw Wrecker at your stove. He was no doubt the deep singing you heard, as Tech, Crosshair, and Hunter were all chatting with each other on your couch.

“Good morning,” you said, scratching your back as you walked over to join them. Crosshair smiled and chuckled softly to himself, earning a questioning look from you. He stood and reached up to move a strand of hair your back into place, kissing your forehead after doing so.

“You look fabulous,” Hunter joked, and you stuck your tongue out at him as Crosshair pulled you into a hug.

“You’re mean, I just woke up,” you mumbled, closing your eyes and letting Crosshair’s scent fill your nose. “And you smell like mint.”

“Is that a scent you like?”

“Mmm, yes.”

“I’ll have to remember that, then.”

A ding from Tech’s holopad gained the attention of everyone but you, and you yawned for a third time as they all curiously listened to what the message was.

“Ah, yeah, let’s go!” Wrecker said, cheering as he placed a plate of food down on your table. “Good thing I made you this breakfast, you’ll be nice and fueled up, ready to go and fight!”

“What?” you asked, blinking at him in confusion.

“The mission that Tech just read,” Hunter said, looking at you as if you were slightly not right.

“What about it?” you asked, still not understanding what was going on. “I honestly wasn’t listening, I was thinking about ebrauh.”

“Of course you were,” Hunter replied, rolling his eyes.

“Hey, what can I say, noodles and cheese is a classic meal.”

“She’s not wrong,” Crosshair agreed. “The mission said that we were to go to Onderon, being led by you.”

“Led by me?” you asked, surprise waking you up a bit more, “why am I leading you?”

“The mission debrief said that we must take a Jedi general with us, and this shall be one of our choosing. And, as you are the only general we are willing to take orders from, I read it as we will be taking you with us.”

“How do you even know that I’m available to take you?” you asked, taking a bite of your breakfast. “Oh my gods, Wrecker! This is amazing!”

“You’re welcome, y/n,” he replied, giving you a pat on the head.

“Well, I guess we could have General Skywalker take us then,” Tech shrugged, and you snorted in amusement at that comment.

“As if you would listen to him.”

“Perhaps General Krell, then?”

You instantly snapped your head to look at Tech, and your expression was the most serious any of them had seen in a long time. “That is not a funny joke, Tech. Pong Krell is not allowed anywhere near my men, and therefore is not allowed anywhere near you guys.”

“We are not your men, though,” Tech pointed out, earning a harsher look from you.

“When it comes to that sentient slime bag, you are,” you said, and your tone meant that the discussion was over. Crosshair gave his brother a smirk and mouthed, “that’s my girl,” to him, to which Tech mouthed back, “thank the gods, you can deal with her attitude.”

“I may not be able to read lips, but I can tell that you’re talking about me,” you said from your seat at your table. Both looked over to you, Crosshair smiling innocently and Tech glaring right back at you. You stare at each other for well over two minutes, neither of you wanting to look away first. You both also refused to blink, and the others just watched in amusement. After another minute goes by, Hunter started trying to get you to blink or look away while Wrecker did the same to Tech. Crosshair stood and watched the chrono, announcing the time that had gone by.

The thing was, you’d gone into a state of meditation, so you weren’t really consciously there anymore. Everything that Hunter was doing, you weren’t seeing. Yes, your eyes were opened and still locked with Tech’s, but you weren’t looking at him. You were reliving a memory of holding little Cyar’ika as she slept in your arms. Her short, silver hair glistened in the sun as the morning light shone on her face. Her eyes squinted in her sleep and she balled her tiny fists together as she yawned. When her eyes opened, they sparkled as she looked up at you and made a cute little coo. A warm feeling spread through your chest as she giggled, and you committed the sound to memory.

A memory that you were now broken out of as the Batch all called to you. You came out of your meditation as Crosshair gently shook your shoulder, a hint of concern lacing his eyes. “Princess, you alright?”

“Yeah, sorry, just went into meditation for a little bit,” you replied, and Tech’s mouth dropped before he spoke again.

“So you cheated,” he accused, and you shook your head.

“Ah ah, we didn’t say what rules there were. I still had my eyes open and focused on you, right?”

“Well, yes, but-”

“No buts. I’m right, you’re wrong, shut up.” Tech just grumbled to himself as the others chuckled at you. Crosshair was looking at you curiously though, and so you asked him why.

“You mumbled something about ‘little Cyar’ika.’” You felt a brief wave of panic wash over you, because if he’d heard you say that, what else had he heard?”

“Is that all I said?” you asked, and he took a second to think before shaking his head no.

“I didn’t hear what else, though. It was mostly mumbles. But I heard ‘little Cyar’ika’ and was curious as to who that might be.”

“Oh, that’s just one of the nicknames I sometimes use for Tayah,” you lied, and it seemed to have worked because Crosshair nodded and turned back to the others.

“We’re going to go back to the Marauder and prepare for the mission, you think you can meet us there by 1000?” Hunter asked, and you nodded. “Great, see ya then, y/n.”

“See ya,” you replied, and kissed Crosshair goodbye before they all filed out of your room.

You quickly got ready before heading down to the hangar. You still had a bit of time, so you hopped on a speeder and went over to the barracks to see your troopers and let them know what you’d be up to.

“What a lovely surprise we have,” Steele said as you walked into the mess hall where they all sat. Hex, Sans, Aid, and Tie all looked up to see you walking over.

“Ah, mesh’la, I was just thinking about you,” Sans said as you sat next to him.

“Of course you were,” you teased, earning a wink from him. “I came to see you guys before I head off.”

“Are you going to visit Dohbar?” Hex asked, but you shook your head no.

“I’m going on a mission to Onderon with the Bad Batch,” you said, and they all looked at you curiously.

“You sure it’s safe for a new mother to go out on a mission with them?” Steele asked, and you huffed in amusement.

“No less safe than with you guys,” you countered.

“I beg to differ,” Tie retorted and you just rolled your eyes with a giggle.

“Look, you all love me, okay? They will do everything they can to make sure I’m safe, just as you guys always do.”

“But there are more of us than there are of them,” Aid pointed out.

“I’d say Wrecker is about the size of two normal clones put together. He’s tall and strong enough to be, at least.”

“I won’t argue with that,” Hex agreed. “But Onderon doesn’t sound like the best place. It is fully separatist controlled.”

“I believe it’s an extraction, not a liberation,” you said. “There’s a Republic senator there, and he is not currently able to freely leave.”

“Which senator?” Sans asked, “maybe it’s one that we don’t need.”

“As much as I’d love to agree with you and leave him there, I can’t,” you said, “but it’s Mas Amedda.”

“I don’t get a good feeling when I’m around him,” Steele stated.

“Yeah, there is something strange and off about him. He’s like Palpatine,” Hex added.

“And we all know everyone at this table hates Palps,” Tie finished.

“What are your guys’ plans for today?” you asked, and Sans let out a sigh before dropping his head onto the table.

“We have to train some shinies, and since you’re leaving, we’re probably going to get stuck with them for the entire time you’re gone,” he complained into the table.

“Oh you poor things,” you replied, patting the back of his head and stifling a giggle. “You’ll be fine, just work them hard so that they don’t have the energy to argue.”

“That’s not a terrible idea,” Hex said, “although I’m not sure how hard we should push them, because if we push them too hard, it will take longer for them to recover.”

“Better to get them used to rough situations now before they’re shoved into one on the battlefield,” you pointed out.

“Yeah, but training isn’t quite the same. Not as easy to simulate those kinds of situations unfortunately.”

“Speaking of battles,” Aid cut in, “when are you supposed to be heading out with the batch?”

“I’m supposed to meet them at the Temple hangar at 1000.”

“So, in two minutes?” he asked, and you quickly looked at the nearest chrono and cursed to yourself.

“I’ll see you guys when I get back,” you said, jumping out of your seat and running to the door. “Behave while I’m gone!”

“We always do, mesh’la,” Sans replied. Unfortunately, you didn’t have time to turn around and argue, so you just kept running to hop back onto your speeder and fly to the Temple.

When you got there, Crosshair was waiting for you outside the ship. You flew right up to it and parked the speeder next to it. He gave you a questioning look, and all you said in response was “Jawa Squad.” He nodded before leading you up the ramp and onto the ship.

“Just barely not on time,” Hunter said, “Wrecker, you owe me.”

“Aw, come on,” Wrecker said.

“A bet is a bet,” Hunter countered, and Wrecker mumbled to himself before handing Hunter a handful of credits.

“Did you really bet on if I would be on time or not?” you asked, and Hunter shook his head no.

“We bet on how late you would be.”

“Screw you all,” you said, folding your arms and glaring at them playfully.

“No, just me,” Crosshair said, kissing the top of your head before sitting in his seat.

“Nasty,” Wrecker stated, sticking his tongue out in mock disgust.

“Y/n, would you like me to read the entire mission debrief for you?” Tech asked after he set the flight controls.

“Can you summarize it for me? Just the need to know stuff would be great.”

“Well, as you heard before, Senate Chair Mas Amedda is currently trapped on Onderon, and the Separatist forces are not letting him leave the planet. We have information that tells us he is being kept somewhere in the Unfair Temple, which is also where the king resides, so it will be heavily guarded.”

“Great,” you said, looking at the map of the temple inside. “Any idea of where in the temple?”

“My best guess would be here,” Tech replied, zooming in on a small room in the middle of the left side.

“That’s kind of an odd place to keep a prisoner,” you commented, but Tech shook his head.

“No, it is actually quite secure. It would be complicated to breach if we did not have access to the tools we have,” Tech said, before adding, “and if I was not here to use my brain.”

“And how would they do without your ego?” you asked, earning a glare from the man. “What? I’m just wondering.”

“I did not say that to be egotistical, I merely meant that I have memorized many override sequences so that we can control things easier, such as getting a door open without cutting it with a lightsaber.”

“My mistake,” you said, throwing your hands up defensively. “I have one question though. Where are we going to land?”

“Here, on the outskirts of the city,” Hunter said, changing the map to show more of the planet. “There’s some fauna we can land in for cover, and then we can make our way to the palace. We already have a route planned out.”

“The temple is heavily guarded, there’s Separatist tanks and droids everywhere. How are we going to get in with our weapons, or even at all?”

“We’ll split into teams,” Crosshair started. “Y/n, you’re with me-”

“I thought we had agreed that she would be with me?” Tech asked, raising a brow at his brother.

“We didn’t agree to anything,” Crosshair countered.

“Tech is right, it would be best to have y/n with Tech and you with me while Wrecker goes by himself.”

“Why is Wrecker by himself?” you questioned.

“If you guys run into trouble, I’ll have an explosion ready to distract the Seppies. Although, if that happens, you’ll need to be much quicker with rescuing Mas Amedda. And if this ends up being the case, I’ll run back to the ship and get it ready to pick you guys up.”

“I still wish you’d let me and y/n go together,” Crosshair said, sticking a toothpick in his mouth.

“We need to stay focused, we only have one shot with this,” Hunter countered.

“He’s right, Cross,” you said, earning a surprised look from the man, “plus, I think it would be best if I went with Tech so I can help him with any issues he might have with cracking into the system.”

“The probability of me having an issue with hacking into the systems is 3.4726%, but nonetheless, I agree,” Tech said. “You also look the least suspicious, so if I need you to distract someone while I work, you’ll likely be more successful.”

“Fine,” Crosshair said, folding his arms over his chest.

“Hey,” you said, walking over and setting a hand on his shoulder, “it’s alright. We’ll meet back up when we’re inside.”

“Actually, Crosshair and Hunter will be keeping watch outside the Temple. Only you and I are going in.”

“Well, then we’ll meet back up on the way to the ship,” you said, and Crosshair just huffed in response. “Come on,” you said, grabbing his hand to pull him up from his seat, “let’s go in the back and talk.”

You could sense Crosshair’s annoyance as you led him to the bunks, and when you turned to look at him, his expression held the same sense.

“Why are you so moody?” you asked, folding your arms in front of your chest.

“I’m not,” he denied, mimicking your pose.

“So, all that back there wasn’t you being moody?” you questioned, raising your brow.

Crosshair sighed, letting his arms fall to his sides as his expression relaxed and turned a bit sad. “I just want to spend as much time with you as I can before we’re separated again.”

“We will,” you assured him, “but we also need to make sure we do what is best for the mission.”

“What about what’s best for us?” he countered, sitting on his bed and resting his arms on his knees. You sat next to him, but kept space so that you weren’t touching. Your hands clasped in your lap as you thought, and Crosshair rolled his toothpick between his teeth.

“What do you think is best for us?” you finally asked, and Crosshair stiffened slightly. Out of the side of your eye, you saw his jaw clench.

“Nothing. Forget it.”

“Tell me, Cross.”

“You’d never agree.”

“I still want to know.”

A heavy sigh left Crosshair before he leaned back, letting his head rest against the wall. You turned to look at him, and he was staring up, a conflicted look in his eyes. Without looking at you, he reached out and grabbed your hand, gently lacing his fingers with yours. “What I think is best for us is…leaving the war behind. Yes, I’m a soldier, I was bred for this war, and outside of it I have no purpose. But with you, I don’t need purpose. I just need you.”

“Crosshair…”

“I know,” he said sadly, “there’s just a part of me that wishes we could. We could live on Dohbar and I could help with Tayah and some local kids so that I can prepare for when we have our own.”

“You’d do that?” you asked, curiosity filling you now.

“For you? For our future family? I’d do anything,” he responded. You looked away from him, more conflict boiling in you now. Would now be the time to tell him? Or would that only bring back the tension? And how would it affect the mission?

“I’m looking forward to after the war when we can raise our family together,” you finally said. “And I hope that you love every little surprise we get.”

“Don’t worry,” he said, sitting up and wrapping his arm around you while resting his chin on your shoulder, “I already love them.”

~~~

“Alright,” Hunter said as everyone stood outside the ship. “Let’s make this quick and simple, with as little setbacks as possible.”

“Yes sir,” you all replied. Wrecker headed off first, followed by Hunter and Crosshair, then finally you and Tech. The hope was that Wrecker could be ready if either group ran into trouble. Crosshair and Hunter would keep a watch from inside Yolahn square as you and Tech made your way to the Unfair Temple. Despite heading off in teams, none of you would truly be together. Wrecker was obviously alone, Hunter would be patrolling the streets, Tech would be trying to break in while you acted as a civilian in case of any guards.

“Just so I know,” you had asked back on the ship, “what is the backup plan?”

“The backup plan is where you’re the main character,” Hunter replied. “You’ll pose as yourself, the queen of Dohbar, and show up for an unexpected visit. The fighting outside should be reason enough for you to demand to be let into the Temple, and while you’re inside, you could let Tech in and free Mas Amedda.”

“Why wasn’t this the main plan?” you asked incredulously.

“Ask that guy,” Wrecker said, pointing to Crosshair.

“You don’t need to put yourself in such an open position,” Crosshair said. “Besides, this is the Separatists we’re talking about. If anyone knows you’re a Jedi, it’s them, and an unexpected royal visit would look suspicious.”

“I still think it should be the main plan.”

“Well, too bad,” he said, “because it’s not.”

Now, you and Tech split up. He took your lightsaber in case of you being caught, and to help better prepare for the backup plan. If you really needed it, he’d said, then you’d be able to get it.

“Everyone in position?” you asked into the comms.

“I got my eyes on you, Princess,” Crosshair responded.

“I’m next to the third stall on your left,” Hunter confirmed.

“Just give me the word and I’ll blow this baby up,” Wrecker said.

“I’m about to try and get to the Temple door,” Tech said, “but there are quite a lot of droids.”

“I know, just be careful, okay? We’re right down here on the streets if you need help.” You looked over towards where Hunter had said he was standing, and let your eyes roam over him when you found him. You gave a small hand signal that you knew he’d be looking out for to confirm you had spotted him. Next, you turned and began walking down the street, getting closer to the Temple. You gazed up at the sky with a smile, and once you spotted Crosshair, you stretched your arms up before covering a yawn. You saw his slight nod before you looked back down the street. Wrecker wouldn’t be in sight, he was hiding a bit of a ways away so that the explosion would draw guards and droids far enough away for you to slip up to the Temple, and hopefully inside, unnoticed.

Just as you passed another stall, your eyes caught sight of a droid patrol. You kept the surprise from showing on your face, and quickly signaled to the others about the sighting. You heard Crosshair warn Wrecker and Tech through the comms, but did not show any outward signs of hearing. Just as you reached the final stall, right before the steps up to the Temple, you heard an explosion go off. The ground shook, and immediately people began screaming around you.

“What the kark was that, Wrecker?” Crosshair sneered over the comms. “No one gave the signal!”

“A droid patrol found me, and they called in reinforcements!” Wrecker defended.

“Focus, guys. We had a plan for when the explosion went off. I’m at the bottom of the steps, I’ll just wait for the droids to pass by and then join Tech at the top.”

“Yeah, about that,” Hunter said, walking up on the other side of the street to the bottom of the steps. You followed where his eyes were looking, and saw Tech being dragged inside by guards.

“Great,” you said, “I guess it’s time to play the di’kut in distress.”

“Just be convincing,” Hunter said before disappearing. You rolled your eyes at no one before slipping into an alley to throw dirt on your clothes and rough up your appearance. You wanted to look as though you’d been near the explosion and were seeking shelter.

“Karking pathetic,” you said before running out of the alley and up the stairs. Guards saw you rushing up and pointed their weapons at you, but before they could attack you started yelling. “Guards! Take me inside at once! I am Queen Monako of Dohbar, and your city is under attack!” Two guards looked at each other questioningly before another joined them. Apparently he recognized you, because he told them to quickly take you inside to safety. Once inside, the guards began to escort you to a guest room. As you walked, you heard others talking about a prisoner, who you assumed to be Tech.

“Yes, sir. He was outside the door trying to gain access into the system right before the explosion went off. We have apprehended the one who set the bomb off as well.”

“Good,” you heard someone respond. “Make sure they are kept apart in case they are working together.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Alright, ma’am,” the guard walking with you said, “wait in this room. I’ll be outside to guard you.”

“Thanks,” you replied, moving to sit on the bed. The guard winced slightly, no doubt because of your dirty state, before he turned and left to stand outside the door.

“Sir!” another voice said from down the hall. You stood up and moved closer, acting as though you were looking in the mirror to try and fix your appearance.

“Yes, guard?”

“We have taken in a woman who claims to be Queen Monako of Dohbar, but we do not have any information as to why she is on our planet.”

“Queen Monako, you say,” the man responded. “I have yet to meet her. She only visited Onderon when Dendup was still in power.”

So that’s who this guy must be, you thought to yourself. King Sanjay Rash.

“Bring her to me, I would like to make our acquaintance.”

“Yes, sir!” the guard responded. You heard footsteps approaching, and the guards outside your room exchanged brief words before a new one stepped in.

“Ma’am,” he said, bowing to you slightly, “King Rash would like to meet you.”

“Would he care to wait a minute for me to freshen up?” you asked, motioning to your current state, “I hate to make this my first impression.”

“Uh, well…sure, ma’am,” he responded. “Would you like me to ask if we have fresh clothes for you?”

“Yes, that would be wonderful. I will be in the refresher, feel free to leave the clothes on the bed for me.”

“Yes, ma’am,” the guard responded before heading off. You turned and went into the refresher then, closing the door and locking it behind you.

“Hello? Can anyone hear me?”

“Are you alright, Cyar’ika?” Crosshair immediately replied, a bit of anxiety leaking into his voice.

“Yes, I’m alright. I’m going to try and track down Wrecker and Tech before I get Amedda.”

“Negative,” Hunter said. “Amedda is our first goal, then Tech and Wrecker.”

“What? Why? I’ll need Tech if Amedda is locked up, plus I don’t even have my lightsaber!”

“You’ll have to do your best, then,” Hunter replied.

“Ugh,” you groaned to yourself, turning your comm off. “I guess I might as well get cleaned up.”

You take a quick shower, cleaning off all the dirt you’d spread over yourself. Realizing that without the dirt, you looked completely fine, you let out a quiet growl of annoyance before looking for something to scratch yourself with. Before you could, however, you heard a knock at the door. Quickly making sure you’re covered with a towel, you opened the door and met the eyes of the guard. He immediately flushed and looked away, clearing his throat before awkwardly thrusting his hand out to you.

“You’re uh, clothes, ma’am.”

“Oh, thank you. You can just leave them on the bed like I said,” you replied.

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied. You kept the door open to watch him awkwardly set them down, and it didn’t look like much.

“May I ask what that is?” you questioned, stepping out of the bathroom to get a better look. The guard briefly looked towards your legs and flushed deeper, clearing his throat again before speaking.

“The king uh, he said to give you his apologies, and all he had to spare was a robe…”

“Oh, that’s alright,” you replied, “I’ll take anything other than just this towel.” You giggled softly then, and the guard glanced at you before his eyes went a bit lower, and then away again.

“Will you be needing anything else, ma’am?”

“No, that will be all. And please, call me y/n.”

“Yes, y/n,” he said.

“What is your name?”

“I-I’m uh, not permitted to say, ma-er, y/n.”

“Not even if the Queen of Dohbar asks you?” you asked, taking a few steps closer so that you could set a hand on his arm. The poor man flushed the deepest yet, and barely managed to speak clearly in response.

“Kamzak Etra.”

“A pleasure to meet you, sir Etra,” you said, stepping around to face him. You gently held out your hand to him, and shakily he took it, raising it to his lips to place a gentle kiss. “I hope to see you around later, but I’m afraid I’ve kept the king waiting long enough and must get dressed.”

“Would you like me to escort you to him?” Kemzak asked, and you let a wide smile play across your lips.

“That would be wonderful, thank you,” you replied. He nodded before stepping back and leaving your room, closing the door behind him. “Better to have him seduced if I get into trouble,” you told yourself before dressing. The robe fit loosely to your body, and the front was quite revealing. You didn’t have much choice, though, so you huffed in annoyance before leaving the room. Kemzak was outside the door waiting, and when you smiled at him, he returned the expression briefly before offering you his arm. You took it in a fake show of eagerness, and let him lead you to where the king was waiting.

“So, sir Etra,” you said, taking note of his reaction to the title, “how long have you been on the royal guard?”

“It will be three months at the end of the week.”

“Oh, so you’re young and fresh,” you commented, hearing the gulp from beside you.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Y/n,” you corrected, earning a nod and quick apology from him. “If you wouldn’t mind, after my meeting with the king, would you give me a tour of the Temple?”

“It would be my honor, y/n,” he said. You reached the room then, and Kemzak slipped his arm from yours and raised your hand to his lips again before pushing the door open for you.

“Queen Monako, I presume,” a man in the middle of the room said while approaching.

“Yes, and you must be King Rash,” you said, earning a nod from the man. “I apologize for coming unannounced, I was merely on a short trip to the market when the explosion went off.”

“Ah, there is no reason to apologize, Queen Monako,” he said, “Onderon shall always be a safe haven for its allies.” He then turned and grabbed two glasses from a servant, handing one to you. “Please, sit,” he said, motioning to a nearby couch. “I don’t want to assume, but I’m curious as to wonder if this drink is what you were in the markets for.”

“Ah, yes,” you said, letting out a quiet laugh after taking a sip, “the booze on Dohbar sadly doesn’t compare to the booze on Onderon.”

“Well, that doesn’t seem too much of a shame if it means you come here often,” he said, tipping his glass towards you before taking a sip of his own.

“Unfortunately booze runs aren’t enough reason to bring my own guard or official transport here,” you replied with a shrug.

“Well, as I said before, any ally of Onderon is safe and welcome here.”

“To be quite honest, I don’t know where Onderon and Dohbar stand now,” you said. “With your alliance to the Separatists, and ours to the Republic, it makes things a bit…uncertain.”

“It was my knowledge that Dohbar was neutral on the matter,” Sanjay said, looking at you questioningly.

“Loosely aligned to the Republic is the best way to put it. We have no means to take part in the war, but if it comes to our planet, the Republic will defend us, if we need the support. King Kwol Barren is very proud of his military, as he should be.”

“I see,” Sanjay said before drinking the rest of the booze in his glass. “I must apologize, Queen Monako, but I was not entirely prepared for an unexpected guest. I have things to attend to, but please, stay as long as you’d like.”

“Thank you, King Rash,” you replied, standing from your seat and walking from the room with him. Sanjay nodded to Kamzak when you left the room, bowing slightly to you before heading off.

“Would you still like the Temple tour, ma’am?” Kamzak asked.

“Y/n,” you corrected again, “and yes, please.” He nodded and took your arm in his again before leading you off.

For the entire time since you had gotten dressed, your comm has been silenced and hidden under the robe you were lent. You had no idea if the others were trying to contact you, but you also had no way of checking it if Kemzak was going to be sticking with you.

Kemzak started off on the right side of the Temple, opposite of where you knew Tech, Wrecker, and Mas Amedda were likely being held. You stifled your frustration, though, and patiently let him lead. You made small talk, making sure to keep the flirting up as you went so as to push the odds more in your favor. By the time you reach the spot where the others should be, Kemzak came to a stop.

“Down there is where we keep our prisoners,” he explained before scratching the back of his neck, “I’m not exactly cleared to go down there yet.”

“Ah, I see. Well, best not to get you into trouble, then,” you said. “I’m feeling a bit exhausted, would you take me back to my room, now? I don’t want to get lost in these halls.”

“Of course, y/n,” he replied, smiling before heading back down the hall. You glanced back briefly, moving a hand out behind your back and reaching through the force. You fought back a jolt of relief when you felt all three of the men you were to rescue.

You paused outside the door when you reached your room and turned to Kemzak with a hopefully suggestive smile. “Thank you, sir Etra,” you said, resting a hand on his arm again. His cheeks flushed again at the action, and he cleared his throat before responding.

“It was my pleasure, y/n,” he replied, bringing your hand up to his lips.

“May I ask when you are relieved for duty tonight?”

“At 2000, y/n.”

“So I should expect you to be at my room at 2030?”

Kemzak’s eyes went wide for a second before he stood a bit taller, cheeks humiliatingly flushed now, before he finally managed a response. “And what shall I return for?”

“Shh,” you giggled, “it’s prude to talk about such things that one does in the room of a queen.”

“Y-yes, ma-er, y/n,” he said, swallowing hard before scratching the back of his neck with a shy grin. “2030, you said?”

“Yes,” you replied, and he nodded, but before he could slip away, you took a step and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, letting your hand trail down his arm before giggling once more and closing your door.

Quickly, you scrambled to get back into the refresher and turn your comm back on.

“-n! For the love of the Maker respond!”

“Sorry!” you said, “I was busy in the Temple around guards and the king.”

“Don’t ever scare me like that again,” Crosshair practically growls through the comms.

“Excuse me, I was saving the mission,” you snapped back. “If your frantic comms would have gone off, I’d be locked up with everyone else.”

“If you two would stop arguing, we have a mission to finish,” Hunter cut in. “Were you able to locate the others and Amedda?”

“Yes, they’re exactly where Tech predicted,” you replied. “I’m going to wait for a little bit before I head out of my room again. Hopefully the guards will think I’m just walking around out of boredom.”

“Well, just be careful,” Crosshair said, “you’re no use to us locked up.”

“Oh, I’m no use to you, is that why I’m here?”

“Yes,” he said simply.

“I see,” you replied. “I guess since my usefulness will be done after the mission, I’ll just head straight back to my quarters on Coruscant when we return.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know that.”

“Do I?”

“Will you stop fighting for one minute?” Hunter cut in again. “You’re worse than Wrecker and Tech. Just go radio silent until you have an update for us.”

“Fine,” you said, angrily hitting the button on your comm to go silent. You folded your arms and looked angrily into the mirror for a second before your expression relaxed. You leaned over and put your hands on the edge of the counter, taking a few deep breaths to calm down. Of course you’d known what Crosshair had meant, but for some reason it made you angry. You weren’t just a tool for them to use, you were a friend, and you were Crosshair’s partner. And now you were tricking an Onderon royal guard into seduction.

“Kriff,” you said, dropping your head to your hands, “why am I so stupid?” There wasn’t time to dwell on it, though, because you needed to figure out your plan. Other than freeing everyone, you needed to find your stuff. Reaching out, you sensed through the force for your lightsaber, and surprisingly, you felt it very close to where the others were. “Well that seems dumb,” you mumbled to yourself, but you were relieved it wasn’t all the way on the opposite side of the Temple.

You decided to take some time to briefly meditate before you left your room. Your mind was full and running, and you needed it to be clear and calm if you were going to succeed. You found peace in reliving a moment with your daughter, and let the warmth and comfort come back to you. When this mission is over, and when you arrive back on Coruscant, you’re going to head straight to Dohbar and hold Cyar’ika in your arms again.

When you come out of your meditation, you check the time and decide it’s been long enough. You commed Hunter and Crosshair to let them know you’re about to head out and to wait by for emergencies. Nearby, you noticed a pile of clothes, and when you reached them, you realized it was your clothes from earlier, but now clean. You decide to put them back on, feeling less exposed than in the robe and less scared of accidentally showing a bit too much.

After redressing, you opened your door and walked out, gazing around almost absentmindedly, but in reality you were scanning for guards. Surprisingly, you didn’t see any around. You also remembered how there hadn’t been any guards near the doors to the prisoner hall, but that didn’t mean there weren’t any inside.

Leisurely, you walked around the Temple until you got close. You reached out in the force, and once again to your surprise, there were only three life forms. Tech, Wrecker, and Mas Amedda. As you walked closer, you examined the paintings on the wall, waving your hand out as if you were curiously reaching up, but in actuality, you were unlocking the door that led to your destination. You then made it creep open, and acted as if the sound had made you curious, in case someone were watching. You slowly walked up, and opened the door wider, covering your mouth as if you had gasped.

“Queen Monako,” a voice said from behind you. You spun to see Sanjay looking at you curiously. “I noticed the door was open myself and had come here to close it, but you seem to be a bit curious.”

“Yes, I’m always curious to know how others keep their prisoners, to find out the best system for my own.”

“Ah, an excellent idea. I have a bit of time. If you would like, I could show you around? We just acquired two new interesting men today, they’re also the ones behind the explosion.”

“Oh really?” you asked, “then perhaps I should thank them for ruining my market run.”

“Oh, yes,” Sanjay laughed, “yes, indeed you shall.” He held out his arm for you to walk forward, and you obliged.

“Your cells look very secure,” you commented, “but perhaps an electron wall would be more secure.”

“I’ve thought about that, but the risk of the power being tampered poses too much of a threat, because the prisoners would then be able to escape.”

“That is true,” you agreed.

“Just up here,” Sanjay said, proudly walking up to two cells. “The prisoners who attacked the market today.”

You looked curiously at Tech and Wrecker, showing no sign of recognition. “Ah, so you’re the reason I wasn’t able to purchase my Onderon booze today.”

“What? What are you talking about?” Wrecker said, giving you a confused expression.

“Nothing, it doesn’t matter,” you said, waving a hand dismissively. “Tell me, do you know how many innocent lives you harmed today?”

“Zero, actually,” Tech said, adjusting his goggles. “There were no casualties.”

“Hmm, that’s surprising for an explosion in a heavily populated area. And you two admit to working together?”

“Yes,” Tech said.

“Cooperative, that must be an easy change for you,” you said to Sanjay.

“Yes, very peculiar,” he agreed. “Actually, they weren’t nearly as cooperative before you started questioning them.”

You snorted through your nose in amusement, folding your arms in front of you. “I guess these boys are just scared of women.”

“Not quite,” Tech spoke up. “You see, you are Queen Monako of Dohbar, correct?”

“Yes…” you said, playing along.

“You have no jurisdiction here, and anything we admit to you cannot be used in a trial, because it was not asked by King Rash or one of his guards. You cannot testify against us, either. So, admitting this will be of no use to King Rash.”

“Ah, so you’re smart as well,” you said. “King Rash?” you asked turning to him, “did they have any interesting items on them when they were captured? I’d love to see what these smart boys use.”

“Oh yes, some very interesting items,” Sanjay replied. “This way, please.” When Sanjay turned his back, you put your hands behind yours and gave Tech and Wrecker hand signals as you walked away. You heard two clanks in response, an acknowledgement of receiving your message. In the next second, you quietly unlocked their cells, but not so much that Sanjay would notice until it was too late.

“They appear to be clones by the looks of their tools and armor,” Sanjay said as he showed you where their things were. You looked at them curiously, grabbing a piece of armor and holding it closer to examine.

“I wonder if it would be possible to study the materials their armor is made with, it is very reliable I’m told.”

“Yes, that would be a good idea,” Sanjay replied, “unfortunately, I’m afraid I can’t afford to do so.”

“Perhaps Dohbar could lend you some money,” you said nonchalantly, “as long as word of our transaction does not leave this room. And for the knowledge of the material as well.”

“That sounds like an excellent deal,” Sanjay said, smiling as he extended his hand for you. You smiled back, and when you grasped his hand to shake, you watched his eyes start to become distant and glazed.

“King Rash?” you asked, feigning concern, “are you alright?”

“Y-yes, Queen Monako,” he said, raising his other hand to his head, “I just got a bit dizzy.”

“Oh, let me feel your temperature,” you said, and pressed your palm to his forehead. His eyes rolled back once you made contact, and then his legs gave out as he fell into unconsciousness. Quickly you grabbed your lightsaber and used the force to throw it into the hall and ignite it, the signal you’d told the boys to wait for. Wrecker and Tech then burst out of their cells and ran to grab their things.

“You guys get out of here with Amedda,” you said, using the force to unlock his cell. He quickly ran out and joined you all.

“Are you the ones the Republic sent to free me?” he asked, and you nodded.

“I’ll take care of Sanjay and the cover up,” you continued.

“Are you sure?” Tech asked, and you nodded.

“I don’t want to anger Onderon, Dohbar will remain out of the war.”

“Alright, but Crosshair won’t be happy.”

“Screw what Crosshair thinks right now, I’m protecting my people and my child whether he likes it or not.”

“Your child?” Wrecker asked, confusion instantly surrounding him and Tech.

“I meant Tayah,” you quickly covered, “she’s practically my child. Kinda. Whatever, it doesn’t matter, just go!”

“Okay,” Tech said, pausing for a moment. You could tell he wasn’t convinced, but you didn’t need to worry about that right now. Right now, Sanjay was your problem. Once Tech, Wrecker, and Mas Amedda were gone, you began your plan.

“Guards! Are there any guards around?” You run back out of the prisoner hall, and shout for anyone to help.

“Kemzak!” you said when you spotted him. “Please, you need to help me! King Rash was showing me a tour of the prisoner hall and they somehow got out! They knocked me out briefly before going after King Rash! He’s unconscious in the room where their things were!”

“Kriff,” Kemzak said, “alright, y/n, just stay here, okay? You’ll be alright. I’ll go get guards for back up.”

“Hurry, the King might be hurt badly!”

“Don’t worry,” he called back, “I’ll send a medic as well!” You pretended to be worried as people ran towards the room. You sat outside and put your head in your hands, and forced yourself to cry. After a few minutes, a gentle hand rested on your back, and you looked up to see Kemzak’s soft smile.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he said, wiping away your tears. The action sent a chill through you, and a sour taste filled your mouth. “Let’s get you back to your room, you’ve had an eventful day and you should get some rest.”

“But-” you began, before stopping and shaking your head.

“But what?” he asked curiously.

“Nothing, it’s a bit…prude,” you said, biting your tongue. You felt him get flustered through the force before he cleared his throat and responded.

“You must be one tough woman if you’re still thinking about that after the day you’ve had.”

“It’s hard not to when you’re around,” you said quietly, and he coughed briefly as you arrived at your room. “Thank you again, Kemzak,” you said, “you’ve been the only nice thing to come out of today.”

“Of course, y/n,” he said, before looking back over his shoulder at the sound of his name. “Duty calls,” he said when he turned back to you.

“2030,” you said, and his eyes went wide before he shook his head.

“I think I should let you rest instead. I’ll visit you tomorrow, I don’t have a shift until later in the night.”

“I’m afraid I won’t be here very long tomorrow. I’m needed back on Dohbar in the morning.”

“Oh,” he said, a bit of sadness slipping into his expression. “Well then, y/n,” he said, taking your hand into his, “until we meet again.” He kissed the top of your hand softly before smiling and stepping back out of your room. You smiled back and let him close the door. As soon as he did, you ran to the refresher and locked yourself in so you could comm the others.

“Tech, Wrecker, did you make it back to Hunter and Crosshair?”

“Yes, we are just waiting on you,” Tech replied.

“I don’t know when I’ll be able to slip out, but you guys need to be on your toes. Heads on swivels, the royal guards are going to be looking for you.”

“Alright, just let us know when you’re out,” Hunter said.

“I will.”

“Be careful, Princess,” Crosshair said, and you smiled to yourself at his words.

“Don’t worry, Snarky. I’m always careful.”

“Oh, so you’re lying to me now,” he joked, and you laughed before telling them to be safe as well. After you ended your comm, a knock came from the door and you left the refresher to see who it was.

“Kemzak,” you said in surprise.

“Happy to see me?” he joked. “I was told I could come guard you for the night, in case the prisoners are still inside and try to harm you.”

“Oh,” you said, licking your lips. “Well, that’s a very interesting turn of events. So, you’re still on duty?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he responded before flushing at the slip up. You just smiled back, taking a slow step closer to him.

“So,” you said, reaching behind him to push the door shut, “since you’re on duty, should I call you sir Etra?” You watched him swallow deeply as your hands met his chest, slowly moving up towards his neck.

⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️

***UNWANTED ADVANCES***

“You can call me anything you’d like,” he responded, and a grin flashed onto your lips as you pushed him back. He caught himself on the bed, and after a brief moment of surprise, he moved back as you crawled on top of him. His hands quickly found your waist, and they felt so wrong on you that you had to fight the disgust from showing. His hands moved lower, and as they did, you had to fight harder against your instincts to punch him in the face.

You suddenly let out a yelp, not expecting it when he flipped you over. In a second, his lips crashed onto your neck and his grip tightened on you. You wanted to cry, everything about this felt so wrong. Your body screamed for it to stop, and so you gave in to its desires.

⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️

***END OF SCENE***

You let out a yell as you tossed him away with the force, and only when you saw the shattered mirror on the ground did you realize how hard you’d thrown him. His head hung limp above his chest, and blood dripped down his neck. The sound of footsteps rushing towards your room filled you with panic, and without thinking, you ran to the window, broke it, and jumped out.

“Guys!” you yelled into your comm, “please tell me you’re on the ship!”

“Is everything alright, Cyar’ika?” Crosshair asked, panic in his tone.

“Not exactly,” you said, “I’m going to need you to be ready with an evac outside the gates.”

“Alright, we’ll be there, just keep running, okay?”

“Okay,” you responded before the sound of the guards yelling met your ears. You didn’t dare look back, not when you knew they’d known it was you who hurt Kemzak. You felt a pang of pity for him, it hadn’t been his fault that you’d tricked him. He’d been fooled into thinking that was what you wanted. And it was, just not with him. No guards seemed to be running after you, but the likelihood of droids patrolling the streets was high. Thankfully, you could see the gates not too far ahead.

“We’re right outside the gates, Princess,” Crosshair’s voice said over the comms, “just run onto the ship once you get out.” You didn’t have the words to respond, so you just kept running. People on the street jumped out of your way when they saw you running, and you nearly tripped a few times, but finally you made it to the gates. You quickly pushed them open, and saw Crosshair waiting for you in the entrance of the ship. You jumped and he held his arm out, catching you and pulling you inside before Tech immediately began to fly up.

“It’s alright,” Crosshair said, holding you close, “you’re safe now.”

⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️

***PANIC DUE TO TRAUMA, MENTIONS OF UNWANTED ADVANCES***

The feeling of his hand gently rubbing your back made you panic, and you immediately pushed away from him. His eyes went wide when you did so, and worry filled them when he saw the fear in yours.

“Cyar’ika,” he said quietly, slowly approaching you, “it’s okay.”

Your eyes remained frightened, but you allowed him to reach out to you. His hand gently took yours, and he softly pulled you to him. When his hands gently rested on your waist to hold you, you pushed him away and ran towards the refresher. You instantly got sick in the vactube, coughing up the glass of booze you’d had earlier.

“Y/n!” Crosshair said, rushing to your side. “Are you alright? What’s going on? Did they poison you?”

You shook your head, wiping your mouth before tears started to fall again. “H-he…”

“He? Who’s he? Did he hurt you?”

You shook your head again, more tears spilling. “H-he touched me…”

“He what?” Crosshair said, and you could sense the instant shift to anger. “Tech, take me back there.”

“No!” you cried, “it wasn’t his fault!”

“What do you mean?” Crosshair asked incredulously.

“I-I tricked him,” you said, sniffling loudly, “it was-it was to make sure the plan-the plan worked.”

“Did he do anything to you that you didn’t want?” Crosshair asked, and you nodded. “Then I want to make him pay.”

“No, Crosshair. It’s too dangerous. He was just dumb and easily seduced.”

“Seduced?” Crosshair asked, a flash of betrayal in his eyes.

⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️

***END***

“I didn’t do anything more than flirting,” you quickly said, “I wanted to make sure that if I needed anyone on the guard, that he’d be easily manipulated.”

“I see,” Crosshair said, letting out a sigh. His anger ebbed, and he shook his head. “It was smart of you, even if I don’t like how it happened. What really matters is that you’re safe and okay and back with me.”

You smiled at him and nodded, and he gently held your cheek, brushing away tears with his thumb. “Don’t you dare think about kissing me right after I got sick,” you said, pulling away from him slightly. He just chuckled at you before kissing your forehead.

“Come on, let’s get you into some comfier clothes and get you to bed. You’ve had a long day.”

“Hmm,” you hummed in agreement, leaning into him as he guided you back to the bunks.

“Crosshair, can you come up here real quick?” Hunter said, and Crosshair smiled at you as you laid down in fresh clothes.

“I’ll be right back. Don’t fall asleep without me.”

“No promises,” you teased, and he chuckled softly before heading to the cockpit. As he left the room, Tech entered, and his face was determined.

“I know you weren’t referring to Tayah earlier,” he said, sitting on the bunk across from you. Your body stiffened, fear pulsing through you.

“What do you mean?”

“When you said ‘my child,’ you told Wrecker and I that you had been mistaken and were referring to Tayah. That was a lie.”

You didn’t respond, you just stared up at the bunk above you.

“I had noticed a few suspicious things, especially when you had been getting sick quite regularly,” Tech continued, “and then your ‘secret project’ on Dohbar that took months, and we weren’t allowed to see you. You never showed yourself below the chest while on holocalls.”

“Tech, please,” you said, sitting up and turning to him. “Whatever you think you know, you don’t. For my safety, for your safety, for Crosshair’s safety.”

“For the child’s safety,” Tech agreed, and you nodded. He looked at you for a minute before smiling. “Prince or princess?”

“Princess,” you said, and he smiled wider.

“I’ve always wondered what having a little niece would be like.”

“Well, maybe in the future you’ll know,” Crosshair said as he walked back in. “Why are you sitting up, Cyar’ika?”

“Tech interrupted my attempt to fall asleep before you got back,” you joked, and Crosshair playfully glared at his brother before getting into the bed with you.

“Tech, if you would be so kind as to leave us. Maybe you’ll be rewarded with a niece if you do.”“As Wrecker stated earlier,” Tech said while standing and walking to the door, pausing to look back and finish, “nasty.”

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jigokusite · 2 years

Text

きさらぎ駅

KISARAGI STATION

My first re-write of the new blog! I decided to start with a classic, Kisaragi Station. This one was posted in real-time on 2chan, where the original poster, who went by the name Hasumi, received advice from others on what to do in the strange situation she found herself in.

I'll be taking what I've got here from Kowabana.net! For the sake of simplicity and ease of reading, I'll make Hasumi's responses red and 2chan responses green.

Hasumi It might just be my imagination, but do you mind if I talk about something?

2chan Sure, go ahead. What happened?

Hasumi I just got on the train, but something’s off.

2chan Okay.

Hasumi It’s the train I always take to and from work, but it hasn’t stopped at any stations for about 20 minutes now. It always stops every five minutes, or at most every seven or eight, but it hasn’t stopped at all. There are currently five other people on board, but they’re all asleep.

2chan You haven’t gotten off the train yet, have you? You didn’t get on the express by mistake?

Hasumi Yeah, like you said, it’s possible I got on the wrong train. I’ll wait it out just a little longer. If anything else weird happens, I’ll come back again.

2chan First of all, why don’t you go to the front carriage and see the conductor? If he had an epileptic fit or something that would be terrible. Go and check on him!

Hasumi It still doesn’t look like we’re going to stop anywhere, so I’ll go and have a look.

The blinds or something are covering the window, so I can’t see the driver. I’m on a private railway in Shizuoka Prefecture.

2chan Did you knock on the window?

Hasumi I did, but there was no answer.

2chan Can you see outside? Can you see the names of passing stations or anything?

Hasumi After leaving the tunnel the train has started to slow down a little. We don’t usually pass through a tunnel though. It’s the train from Shin-Hamamatsu Station.

It looks like we’re about to stop.

2chan You’re not gonna get off, are you?

Hasumi We’re stopped at Kisaragi Station, but I wonder if I should get off? I’ve never seen or heard of this station before.

2chan You should get off.

No, you should stay on until the last stop.

I mean, the train should’ve started moving again by now, shouldn’t it?

Hasumi, what time did you get on the train?

Hasumi I got off. The station is empty. I got on the train around 11.40 pm, I think.

2chan I did a search for Kisaragi Station, but nothing came up… And hang on, your train’s been running for an hour now? Alright, I’m off to take a bath.

I looked for Kisaragi Station as well, but there’s nothing here.

Hasumi I think I should go back. I’ve been looking for a timetable but I can’t find anything. The train is still stopped so I wonder if it would be safer to just get back on? Well, while I was writing that I already got back on board.

2chan Are there any buildings nearby that look like they might have people? It’s cold out there, so be careful.

Hasumi I’m gonna leave the station and see if I can find a taxi. Thanks.

2chan That’s a good idea. Be careful.

I’m doubtful that you’ll easily be able to find a taxi at an empty station after the last trains have already run.

And it looks like Hasumi’s become a resident of the 2D world.

Hasumi There’s nothing here, let alone a taxi. What should I do?

2chan Go see the station attendant or a nearby police box!

Shouldn’t you call 110 for now?

Why don’t you call the taxi company?

All you can do at this point is go to the nearest convenience store.

If there’s a public phone nearby, you should look up the number of the taxi company and give them a call.

Hasumi I call my parents to come and pick me up but they don’t know where Kisaragi Station is. They said they’d look it up on the map and then come to get me, but I’m kinda scared.

2chan What happened to the others on the train? Were you the only one who got off?

Hasumi, I also tried to find Kisaragi Station on the internet, but there’s nothing here. You said you were near the Shin-Hamamatsu area, right? I’ll see if I can find anything on Yahoo.

Hasumi I went to look for a public phone but there aren’t any. The other passengers didn’t get off, so I’m alone right now. The station name is most definitely Kisaragi Station.

2chan There’s a chance you’ll find a public phone off the station grounds.

Why don’t you try leaving the station?

I just did a bit of investigating right now, and the kanji for ‘oni’ (demon) can also be read as ‘kisaragi,’ right…?

So you mean ‘Demon Station’…? That’s terrifying.

Are you a video game nerd? When I googled it, I found a video game.

Write down the previous and next stations from Kisaragi Station. Don’t say there’s nothing written there.

Hasumi What game are you talking about? There are no previous or next stations written here.

2chan Try walking back home along the tracks.

If you start running now, you can probably catch up with the train!

It’s a station, so there has to be people living around there.

Hasumi Yeah, that’s right. I was panicking, so I didn’t even notice. I’ll follow the tracks back and wait for my parents to call. I tried looking before in the Town Information part of I Mode in my phone, but it came up with some kind of error. I just wanna go home.

2chan Whether it’s a joke or not, I’m gonna work towards solving this seriously.

Hasumi There really is nothing around here. All I can see are grasslands and mountains. But if I follow the railway tracks, I think I can get home, so I’ll do my best. Thank you. You might think it’s all just one big joke, but can I come back if I run into any other problems?

2chan Of course. At any rate, take care.

Of course. Just be careful your phone doesn’t die. It’s your lifeline right now.

Don’t start walking in the wrong direction. And be careful inside the tunnel.

Can a phone even get reception in an area with nothing around? I think it would be better if you don’t move from the station…

All alone at an unmanned station on a cold night. The lights will probably turn off soon and it’ll be dark.

The railway tracks are an even darker trap. There’s a tunnel after that too, right?

And yet, it would probably be safer to spend the night at the station…

This is terribly risky.

Hasumi My father called. He had a lot of questions, but in the end we have no idea where I am, so he told me to call 110. I don’t really want to, but I’m going to give the police a call and see if they can help me…

2chan I think it would be easier for you to move around once it gets brighter…

Could you really wait there all alone at night? In some strange, unfamiliar place…

Could you pass through the tunnel all alone at night? On some strange, unfamiliar railway track…

So could you keep walking through some unfamiliar street at night in the cold?

Hasumi I tried explaining my situation the best I could to the police, but they thought it was a joke and got angry at me. I was so scared that I ended up apologising to them…

2chan Why did you apologise? You should call it a night. Go wait at the station for the first train.

What’s it like around the station? Is there anything there?

Hasumi I can hear what sounds like the beating of drums coming from far away, mixed with the sound of a ringing bell. Honestly, I don’t know what I should do anymore.

2chan Hasumi, you need to get back to the station. It’s best to return to where you were in the first place when you get lost.

It’s about to start…

Drums and bells…?

It’s probably just a festival.

Hasumi You might think I’m lying, but I’m so scared, I can’t look back. I wanna go back to the station, but I can’t turn back.

2chan Run. Whatever you do, don’t look back.

You can’t look back at the station! You’ll be taken away. Just run towards the tunnel, right now! It should be closer than you think.

Hasumi Someone just yelled out from behind me. “Hey, you can’t walk along the railway track, it’s dangerous!” I thought it might be the station attendant, so I turned around, and about 10 metres away there was the old guy with one leg standing there. Then he disappeared. I’m so scared, I can’t move.

2chan I said don’t look back. Just run.

Calm down and listen to what I have to say. Try going towards the sound of the drums. There should be people there.

Just where are you trying to send Hasumi?

That’s not it at all, Hasumi is about to be taken away. That’s why I’m saying, if she can, she should go back.

How come you could you tell it was an old guy with just one leg?

…because it’s an old guy with just one leg?

It’s probably some guy that was hit by a train and lost his leg and then died.

Hasumi I can’t walk anymore, but I also can’t run. The sound of the drums is getting closer.

2chan Just wait for morning. Once it gets brighter, it won’t be so scary.

You should have gotten back on the train.

Hasumi I’m still alive. I fell over and I’m bleeding, but I’m still holding onto the heel I broke. I don’t want to die yet.

2chan Well, it’s not like things were going to get better if you stayed in the one spot, anyway.

I think you’ll be fine if you can get through the tunnel, anyhow. When you pass through, let us know and get some help.

Hasumi I called home. My dad said he’d call the police for me, but the sound is getting closer and closer.

2chan Well, let’s just pray that sound isn’t the sound of an approaching train. Having said that, it’s probably too late for that now.

Hasumi I did my best and I’m somehow in front of the tunnel now. The name says Isanuki. The sound is getting closer, so I’m gonna gather up all my courage and try to get through. I’ll post again once I get through safely.

2chan Good luck.

This is the end. The train and the station are gone. You can’t go back. There’s no-one to follow. The sound you hear is a phantom of your own past. Run towards the tunnel. If you stop, you’ll just be stuck between worlds.

Hasumi I’ve exited the tunnel. Someone’s standing just ahead of me. Looks like doing what you guys suggested was the right answer. Thank you. I’m probably gonna be mistaken for a monster, my face is a mess of tears.

2chan Hasumi, wait! Don’t move!

Stop! It’s dangerous!

Who would be standing there at such a time? It’s too suspicious…

Hasumi Sorry for making you all worry. The person was very kind and said they would take me to the closest station. Apparently there’s a business hotel or something there. Everyone, thank you so much.

2chan Hasumi. There’s something I want to ask you, so please answer. Where are you? Can you ask that kind person the place name?

Are they really kind? They could be scarier than what’s going on here, you know.

Yeah, maybe. Anywhere, where the hell are you?!

That person is dangerous!! Why is someone on the railway tracks at this time of night? They must have run into you while disposing of a dead body or something! Run!!

Hasumi I asked where we are, but he just said ‘Hina.’ There’s no way that could be true though.

2chan Hasumi, get out of the car!

I’m sorry, Kasumi. Where is Hina?

What a strange story. So at this particular time some suspicious old guy just happened to be there to pick up a girl walking along the railway tracks…? What was he doing?

Hasumi We’ve started getting closer to the mountains now. I don’t think there’s anywhere for the car to stop, and he’s stopped talking to me entirely.

2chan There’s no reason for even a strange old dude to be up at this time.

Maybe he’s not talking to you anymore because you’re always on your phone?

Hasumi, you’re in danger. Did you tell your parents to come and get you from the tunnel?

Hasumi. Call 110. This might be the last time you ever write anything.

Hasumi My battery’s about to die. Things are looking strange, so I’m gonna try to run the first chance I get. He’s been muttering about something I can’t understand for a while now. Just so I’m ready when needs be, I’m going to make this my last post for now.

※ After this post, Hasumi was never heard from again.

#urban legends #2chan translations #kisaragi station #folder

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roachingurcoach · 9 months

Text

“So spare me your contempt Castiel, the self-hating Angel of Thursday. You know what every other version of you did after ‘gripping him tight and raising him from Perdition?’ They did what they were told. But not you. Not the one off the line with a crack in his chassis."

Chuck was a lying liar who lies, and here's why:

Apocalypse!verse Castiel was scarred and insane. You could argue that the scarring perhaps had something to do with his alternate Jimmy Novak, who was still his vessel, or maybe excessive battling in the war they were in the middle of (and all the wars that came before), but there is a very high possibility that his mental state and appearance were due to frequent 'reprogramming' (a.k.a. brainwashing involving extreme torture). In season eight, we are shown scenes of Naomi torturing Castiel in order to get him to comply with her commands with a device that is needle-shaped and drill-like, involving puncturing mainly the face and very close to the eyes. Apocalypse!verse Castiel's face and eyes are heavily scarred-- to me, this implies that he had to be 'reset' so many times that even his grace couldn't keep up with the healing needed on his vessel, and damaged his mind to the point of being unrecognizable as who we know of as Castiel. He fought to rebel and go against Heaven and Chuck's chosen narrative for his universe (though he likely didn't know about that) so many times that he lost his mind and his capability of performing free will through excessive torture.

Arguably, this Castiel didn't have a Dean, and therefore must have been compliant, because he had no catalyst to not do what he was told. While he didn't have a Dean to encourage him in this universe to rebel in the large way he did in the mainverse, we know that Castiel rebelled before, though those rebellions were smaller, and the 'corrections' made of him weren't escaped. Multiple times throughout the show, other angels derisively remark about Castiel's rebellious nature, even before we see them interacting with him regularly, and before he's committed multiple acts of rebellion on screen after meeting the Winchesters, mainly Dean. Further on, angels admit that Castiel has been brainwashed before (as seen when Castiel tells Dean he 'doesn't serve man, and certainly doesn't serve (him)' (paraphrased) after previously being friendly to Dean and assisting him, exhibiting a strange behavioral change after he returns from Heaven), also implying that his memories of said events have been wiped (he doesn't know he's being controlled by Naomi until the crypt scene in season eight, and considering he didn't know who she was when she was so familiar with him, his memory must have been altered). While some of these things may have been throwaway detailing, later down the line they were built upon, and grew to indicate that at heart, Castiel actively pushes to achieve free will and do what he believes is right.

Endverse!Castiel was still partially recognizable as our Castiel, and for what we had seen of him at that point in time, he behaved understandably for someone who spent most of his existence angelic and fully-powered with constant access to his trueform and a supply of grace: he drowned himself in various chemicals through sex and/or drugs in order to avoid focusing on his near-humanity and his powerlessness when he used to be able to perform feats no human could ever top, escape from fights without a scratch, and maybe even just communicate with other angels and his friends(?) in Heaven, who had by that point abandoned him for staying behind. With Dean. Who was even more of a dick to him, and Castiel still stayed by his side, even if they no longer got along.

In this universe, we also see Chuck, who could have been (and most likely was) included there as merely a familiar person, but in retrospect, one of his lines and his very presence can be taken to mean something else.

"Yeah. I don't think Cas is going anywhere." (Chuck Shurley to Past!Dean Winchester in The End)

This line is said with a smile on his face, and a kind of what, are you kidding? look at Dean. Partially because Dean should know where Castiel is, and partially because Castiel is. Not. Leaving. In the future, we know that Chuck is god, and very likely, that means he has been god for a good long time. This means he was present and 'managing' the Endverse, whose timeline was slightly ahead of past!Dean's universe (which we know is possible with Chuck making a claim about what every other Castiel did (in the past tense)).

Knowing that he was/is god, and knowing that he liked to interfere when a 'story' didn't go the way he'd planned or wanted, Chuck's statement about Castiel not leaving and the expression on his face when he said so implies that he has tried to make Castiel leave, and every time, Castiel has found some way to thwart this, even unknowingly, and that Chuck has at this point resigned himself to his (yet another Castiel) not complying, even subconsciously, and has molded this world and Castiel in a way that he considers a compromise: he gets an ending where everyone dies in a way he sees fit. Both brothers are killed by Lucifer, and Castiel dies separately from his closest companions in battle for a borderline meaningless cause. Further reinforcement of Chuck having interfered with the Endverse and specifically Endverse!Castiel is when he tells Metatron (correct me if that's not who he says this to) that he doesn't even remember how many times he's reset or brought Castiel back, which indicates that Castiel has deviated from his written path many times before his more current ones in the main universe, and in all of Chuck's other universes with all of his other Castiels.

You may not agree with my takes on the validity or reality of the alternate worlds we were shown (e.g. the Endverse potentially being constructed fictionally by Zachariah in order to convince Dean to agree to being Michael's vessel), on characterizations of the AU!Castiels, or on when Chuck was god, but despite my potential inaccuracies, my various statements hold up as examples of Castiel being so very devoted to rebelling and/or staying with Dean Winchester that he required constant altering and monitoring in order to get him to stay in line and die when he was supposed to in Chuck's narrative in every single universe he exists.

Castiel rebelled in every universe, and in most of them, he was finally broken free because of Dean. They may not have won in those universes, but they were a thorn in Chuck's side that lead to his defeat* in the main universe.

*if you believe that Chuck didn't win in the mainverse.

#sorry if this makes no sense at all #or if my reasoning and evidence behind it is crap #but this stuff with Castiel only loving Dean in one universe irritates me. I get that some might consider it more special if its just one #so to me it would be more special of Castiel fell for and Dean in every single universe and that they loved each other in every single #universe where they both existed.#because of the whole inginite universes thing. like if there's infinite possibilities and compinations possible to me it's even cooloer and #more notable if destiel is a universal constant #chuck is a lying liar who lies #destiel #castiel #chuck shurley #dean winchester #spn

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sonasnowdrop · 2 years

Text

Chapter 11: teamwork makes the dream work

-Break the cycle-

Bendy tried calling out to the angel toon, but nothing came out. He didn’t mean to scare her away.

They heard Addisons light footsteps approach, they ran to her.

"Hey buddy, you seemed kinda spooked…everything okay?" Addison asked, bendy felt like telling her about who he had just ran into, but decided against it.

"Yeah I’m fine, just missed you is all." They signed, giving a smile. They lied.

Addison wasn’t fully convinced, but believed her companion wouldn’t lie to her. So, she accepted it as truth.

"Okay well, cmon we gotta head back to the safe house for just a bit." The angel said, turning around. Bendy nodded and followed his angelic companion.

Once they reached the safe house, Addison lifted the hatch. She always let bendy in first, they didn’t really know why but never bothered to question it. Though, when bendy entered, his angel friend didn’t follow.

"What’s wrong?" Bendy signed, Addison turned her head to them and put a finger up to her mouth.

"Shh, I heard something." The angel drew her axe, and gestured for Bendy to stay inside. However, Bendy gestured for her to come inside.

The angel was worried that it could be a butcher gang member again, they did tend to wander, and it sounded close to the safe house her and bendy stayed at. One had gotten in last week, she didn’t want the same thing to possibly happen again.

"Stay there." Addison stood up, bendy tugged on her.

The angel took notice, and attempted to convince bendy that she’d be okay. They didn’t like when Addison went out alone, they came along on her journeys and hunts more often.

"I’ll be fine, I have a weapon. I just wanna check, it’ll only take a second; promise." Addison placed her hands over Bendys. She pressed their hands against her chest, seemingly sealing the promise. Bendy nodded, but still didn’t like the idea.

Addison stood up again, and strode away, bendy retreated back into the safe house. Whenever Addison would leave to clear the area near them, bendy had to keep the hatch open so she could come back in. The little demon squeezed into a crawl space. Just big enough for them to sit in, Addison didn’t know about this crawlspace, but bendy would hide there whenever the angel would leave.

They stayed there for awhile, it had been only four minutes since Addison had left, bendy grew worried.

No, she’s okay, she has a weapon. She made a promise.

The demon reassured himself.

..five minutes..then six…then seven.

Bendy dreaded every minute, it overwhelmed him.

Eight, nine, ten,

They counted the minutes.

Eleven, twelve,

Automatically, their pie cut eyes began to close.

Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen…

The little devil drifted to sleep within the crawl space.

Suddenly, a loud thud woke the little demon from sleep. He jolted forward, they didn’t even realize they had fallen asleep.

How long has it been?

Where’s Addison?

What was that noise?!

These thoughts raced around like race cars inside bendy’s mind. He had to be brave.

He squeezed back out the crawlspace, the hatch to the safe house was still open and Addison was nowhere in sight.

The little devil began to panic, and frantically look around for his companion. He even checked that one blind spot Addisons hid to scare him, but she wasn’t there, she wasn’t anywhere in the safe house.

Their attention then turned to the open hatch. She has to still be out there. Bendy gathered their courage and swallowed a lump in their throat.

The little toon rushed out of the safe house, when leaving they shut the hatch behind them.

Loud patters of feet approached the toon, their head swung in the direction of the noise. It was that angel toon from earlier! Though, she seemed to be dashing away from something. The angel seemed to notice bendy, and they began to sign. Though they were to far away for bendy to understand.

When the angel got closer, she gripped bendy and dragged him along with her.

He gasped feeling rightfully confused. He turned around and saw the fast approaching keeper, now understanding why the angel was running away and signing at him. He picked up his foot work, trying not to stumble in the angel toons grip.

The angel swung them both around the corner. She spotted a miracle station and forced bendy into it. Once he was in she spotted a barrel for herself to hide in. She slide in just in time as the keeper threw itself around the corner. It slide around, dragging its disgusting cords across the studios wooden floors.

Seemingly giving up, it turned around the corner once more, and left. Azael crawled out the barrel and knocked on the miracle station; signaling that it was safe to exit. Though, the toon inside didn’t open the door.

Azael let out a audible sigh, and swung the door open, ignoring how Bendy flinched when doing so. The angel then scrunched her face in confusion. The devils face was stained in tears, he hiccuped.

Azael began to sign frantically. She didn’t know how to address this situation, or even how to deal with it.

"What’s wrong?!" The angel signed, bendy hiccuped.

"My friend! I lost my friend!" The devil toon signed frantically, Azael tilted her head. She had thought they were alone, which is…sorta why she came back, or rather ran in this direction to hide bendy away from the keeper.

"What does your friend look like?" Azael signed, hoping she’s seen this toons friend somewhere.

"Like Alice, but with clothes similar to mine!" Bendy urgently signed Addisons description, Azael perked her head up. She’s seen this angel, but not in a pleasant way.

Azael had seen this angel being dragged away by keepers. Allison, Tom and Azael split up in attempts to flee. Azael escaped alone, she had no clue where her new friends were.

"I’m sure she is okay, relax. I can help you find her." Azael signed, an attempted to comfort the devil toon. She rubbed his back.

"Really?" Bendy signed.

Azael nodded, bendy whipped his face. He then hugged the angel. Azael gasped, then pressed her lips into a thin line. She…wasn’t used to this, so she was the first to pull away.

They both set off. Azael walked faster than bendy and didn’t look behind her to make sure he was close, so the devil picked up his pace.

Chapter 10 / Chapter 12

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with-love-from-hell · 2 years

Text

5 Sides of Human

{Part eight}

Genre: Mixed

Character profiles for the Mc’s featured in this series

WC: ~2.8k

CW: swearing, anxiety, depictions of anger and verbal aggression, sarcasm, hurt, implications of past abuse, Storm has a stutter but I am not depicting it with written word consistently, pining, spoilers for season 1&2!

Part seven <<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>> Part nine

Storm slowly opened her eyes, hearing Malice barking from somewhere near by. She glanced around her, trying to figure out where she was, and why she wasn’t in her normal bedroom in the HOL. She blinked twice; the light from the crackling fire warmed her cheeks in an amber glow, and the soft fur around her neck tickled her ears gently. She sat up, gathering the sight of her surroundings, finally processing that she had fallen asleep in Lucifer’s study.

Gripping the coat he had draped over her tightly, she turned to Lucifer’s desk, where he must have fallen asleep while completing paperwork. His head was rested on his bicep, his forearm curled over his head with a pen in hand. His soft breaths and gentle snores were enough for her to conclude he was out cold.

What was the last thing she remembered? She tried to think back before she had fallen asleep. Vaguely, she recalled the kind words offered to her and the tender kiss shared between the two of them. After he tried to move things further, she stopped him- instead cuddling next to each other while talking about things that had occurred while she was away.

Storm furrowed her brow in confusion and glanced back to Lucifer’s peaceful, sleeping form. Why did he say she was merely a distraction for his brothers earlier in the day and then kiss her as if she was soul-bound to him now? The uncertainty in his actions and words had her confused- and then her mind began to wander to more dark places.

Perhaps everyone really is right about him- maybe his is a sadist. After all, he had little contact with her while she was away- and after he told her she belonged to him after making their pact...no...How could someone treat her so kindly in other ways with such a nefarious ulterior motive? Well, there was her past boyfriend, who acted perfectly fine until she wore too low cut of a shirt...but he’s different, right? He changed after making multiple threats and two attempts on her life...right?

Storm swallowed as her mind replayed the purposefully stowed away memories of Lucifer’s actions over a year ago. As her thoughts spiraled further, she found herself desperate to leave his office- fearing to be anywhere near him with the uncertainty of his motives. She carefully folded his coat and silently left the room, not bothering to look back after she heard him stir.

“pspspsps.” Vivi called to the small, black kitten hiding in the bush in the courtyard, offering it leftover fish skin from her lunch in the cafeteria. “I won’t hurt you, c’mere.”

The kitten hesitated before approaching cautiously, sniffing the gift offered from the human. Vivi smiled as the cat eagerly nibbled on the treat, clearly famished. The kitten was new to the area- that much was clear. Through all of the days she spent outside sketching and visiting with the stray cats around RAD, this was one she had never seen before- nor had she noticed any of the cats pregnant in the area.

Vivi motioned for the cat to come closer, it’s hesitation mirroring her own toward human affection. They found their mind wandering toward their interaction with Storm the previous few days. The awkward confrontation of their decision to stay in Devildom, in tandem with voluntarily switching room assignments and defending them from Lucifer made them suspicious, wondering what ulterior motives she had for being so kind to them despite their cold demeanor. The only other individual who had given them any ounce of sympathy since coming to Devildom was Satan, and even those interactions had been set to minimum as she tried her best to avoid most people. Even before that though, the only people Vivi had bothered to get to know in her life in the human world who were kind to her always ended up stabbing her in the back in some way- even her own family.

Vivi extended a hand, gently scritching the kitten on the neck. It flinched at first, but then leaned into their touch, purring happily as it continued munching. She smiled as it warmed up to her, happy to find comfort in the presence of those without such complex motives. “Where did you come from, baby? Are you lost?”

“He showed up yesterday morning while I was on litter duty.”

Vivi whipped around, startling the kitten. He retreated, dragging the rest of the fish skin into the bush with him. Vivi scowled at the blonde demon in front of her, pissed off that he had not only walked up to her unannounced, but also that he had scared the small kitten away from their hand.

“Fuck off, Satan.” Vivi growled, turning her attention back to where the kitten had fled to.

Satan smiled, completely ignoring their demand for him to leave and sitting next to them in the grass. “You know you skipped Potions class today because you’ve been out here since lunch, right?”

Vivi sighed in anger, scooching several inches away. “Look, blondie. I didn’t need my parents around to tell me what to do, so I certainly don’t need to you to step in for them.”

Satan blinked back his surprise at the statement. “I wasn’t telling you what to do...I just think it’s easy to lose track of time out here with the cats.”

Vivi glanced at him from her peripherals. “Thanks for nothing. Now leave me alone.”

Satan shook his head. “You seem more irritable today than usual- and that says a lot given your general demeanor. “

“It’s none of your damn business.” Vivi growled, standing up from their place on the grass. They turned to leave, not wanting to be pinned down into a conversation about what had been on their mind- least of all with him.

“Wait.” Satan leaned back, grabbing Vivi’s hand. She snatched it away quickly, whipping around. They were ready to backhand him until seeing the concern painted all over his face. “If you don’t want to talk, that’s fine. But I want to help if I can.”

“I...” Vivi started, trying to find words to say. They turned their head away, not wanting to be vulnerable with the 4th oldest. “I don’t need your help.”

“I’m not saying you need it. But I want to offer it anyway.” Satan smiled sadly, patting the grass next to him. “Please, stay here a bit longer. I’ll take the fallout with Lucifer later.”

“Fine.” Vivi sighed, turning and slumping back onto the ground next to him.

They sat in silence for a moment, staring out into the dark wooded area beyond the school. After a few minutes, more of the cats who frequented the area appeared from the treeline, bounding happily toward the two for attention. A smile formed slowly on Vivi’s lips as her favorite cat crawled into her lap, purring lovingly as she stroked her long, luscious fur. Satan watched, absentmindedly petting two other cats as they circled around him.

“Vivi.” Satan murmured, glancing down at the cat who began rolling on the grass in between his legs. “I know you probably don’t care for or trust any of us, but I want to be closer to you if you’d let me.”

“Tch. Why?” Vivi gritted her teeth. “It’s not like I’m kind or generous or gentle- not like your precious Storm.”

Satan blinked back his surprise. “Well, no. You’re not at all like Storm. But that’s kind of the point, isn’t it?”

Vivi raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

“Well...” Satan cleared his throat, picking up one of the cats to cradle in his arms. “Storm is very sweet, and that comes from her desire to make others happy- sort of like a dog. I think of you as more like a cat.”

Vivi’s brows furrowed in confusion. “Nah- don’t be giving me any of that furry shit. I had enough when Sarah compared me to a cat and then told me about her weird fetish.”

Satan laughed, shaking his head. “No, That’s not what I meant. I mean that you require time to warm up to people, you can be quick to anger if a line is crossed, and you require a lot of space, but that doesn’t make you unlikable.”

Vivi furrowed her brow in confusion, trying to understand what he was getting at.

“What I’m getting at is that I know that anger and aggression is used to hide some deeper emotion that you feel- and cat’s usually lash out when they feel scared, or sad, or overwhelmed.” Satan paused, watching Vivi hide the growing flush to their cheeks. “You don’t have to explain that to me because...well, because I’m the same way. I am wrath incarnate, after all.”

Vivi nodded, taking a moment to savor his words. Never before had their fronting anger been seen straight through by someone...

Perhaps he did understand more than she gave him credit for.

Vivi sighed, scooting a tiny bit closer. Their voice was hesitant and muttered, but he clung to every word. “I don’t trust people easily, you know.”

Satan nodded, pausing his pets on the cat in his lap to listen intently.

“And, It obviously doesn’t take a genius to figure out that it’s because t-trust has been abused in the past.” Vivi paused, refusing to meet his intense stare. “So...I guess maybe if we spent more time together that wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. You’re the most tolerable out of everyone I’ve met so far, anyways.”

“I figured you have been hurt before, but that doesn’t mean everyone will...” Satan smiled. “Thank you for giving me a chance, kitten.”

Vivi snapped her head up to meet his soft eyes, the blush on her cheeks burning brightly. Usually, she would have a retort, or storm away to escape her embarrassment at being referred to by such a cutesy pet name- or any pet name, for that matter. She swallowed back her anger, remembering his words at hiding deeper emotions.

“Don’t you dare call me that in front of any one else, or you’ll be sorry.” They murmured, trying to stop the blazing embarrassment that surely showed on their face.

“But I can still call you that when we’re alone?” Satan grinned, only to be met with a death glare. His cheeky grin faded and he cleared his throat as his own face flushed, realizing he was pushing his luck. “We’ll workshop a different nickname, then.”

Vivi snorted, coming up with a better nickname to sooth her own embarrassment. “Sure thing, Goldilocks.”

Satan blinked, lips parted slightly in confusion. After a moment, the pair laughed, returning their focus to the cats surrounding them with begging mewls for attention.

“What color do you want this time, darling?” Asmo set out the options of polish in front of Heart, eagerly awaiting their answer as he went back to filing their nails.

“Hmmm...” Heart picked up one of the small, shimmering purple jars. “I usually pick this one, but since you are all painted pink, I want to match too. So I guess maybe...hot pink?”

Asmo squealed in delight, applying the base layer to their nails. He had already done Sarah’s nails and sent her off to find them matching outfits to wear, and his own were done earlier this morning. He loved pampering Heart best out of all of the humans, as the admiring gaze they had as he worked meticulously at their nails made him feel warm and fuzzy inside. It was almost as if Heart saw past the activity as just a simple pass-time, and saw it as an artform that Asmo excelled at.

“I like the choice of coffin shapes this time.” Heart beamed, admiring the delicate care Asmo gave to their hand.

“Hehe! I’m glad you like it, sweetie.” Asmo squeezed their hand, continuing to work diligently at their nails.

“Hey! What about this?” Sarah popped into the room, dressed in a revealing black romper, Thigh-high black boots, fishnets, and dark makeup, contrasted with a hot pink faux fur coat. “I think it looks cute and tells the world we are bad bitches!”

Asmo grinned. “Ooooh yasss. You have my vote.”

“Are you really sure Levi is going to be down for it? I mean, he barely let Asmo paint his nails.”

“Oh he’ll be finnee.” Sarah waved Heart’s concerns off. “Trust me. He told me to get him to push his social limits, so this will be perfect.”

Heart remained unconvinced. “Sarah, I really think-”

“Sarrahhhhh.” A high whine from the hallway caused them all to turn and look toward the door. Levi peaked his head in, his eyes coated in dark makeup. Bits of a flamingo leather Jacket visible from where he had tilted in the doorway. “Are you sure this won’t make me look stupid?”

Sarah quickly grabbed Levi’s hand and pulled him into the room. He let out a high pitched shriek, hiding his deep blush with his hand as Asmo and Heart gasped in surprise. Similar to Sarah, Levi was dressed in all Black, except he wore ripped black skinny jeans, Black leather Chelsea boots, and a slightly off-black racerback tanktop...and of course, the pink leather jacket.

“Holy shit, Levi!” Asmo abandoned Heart’s nails, rubbing his chin thoughtfully as he circled his brother. “You look S-T-U-N-N-I-N-G!”

“R-really?” Levi lowered his hand slightly, looking for genuineness in his brother’s eyes as he gushed over his attire.

“Of course, silly.” Sarah laughed, Clutching Levi’s arm tightly.

He swallowed hard as the blush returned to his cheeks. “Y-you know, I’m only doing this because I lost that game yesterday...I-it’s not like I like this normie clubbing stuff...”

Sarah giggled, squeezing Levi harder. “Sure, sure...but you still look good while doing it!”

“I wish you would have let me make you over a long time ago!” Asmo mused.

Heart snickered, watching Levi cover his face with his hands in embarrassment. Since meeting him, Heart would have never thought Levi would do something like this- it seemed so unlike him. But since spending more time with Sarah during their late-night video game sessions, Heart began to notice the small crush he began to develop on her. Because of his desire to be near her, he began doing more and more obscure things to get her attention- including making these small “bets” on video games that he would purposefully lose, resulting in having to do whatever Sarah wanted for a whole day.

“We’ll be ready in like 15 minutes.” Asmo noted, turning his attention to Heart’s half-finished nails. “Then we can go party ‘til dawn!”

The pair giggled, shuffling back out the door and down to Levi’s room, leaving Heart and Asmo alone. A silence washed over the room, only interrupted by the sound of the UV lamp drying heart’s nails. After finishing up their nails, The two each got dressed in their clubbing outfits. Heart wore similar black makeup to Levi and Sarah, as well black Docs, a pink and black striped long-sleeve shirt, and black overall shorts. Asmo wore almost an identical outfit to Sarah, except he donned hot pink Fishnets and a hot pink boa.

After finishing getting ready, Heart stepped out of Asmo’s bathroom, pausing when he saw Asmo’s sunset eyes locked onto him. They rubbed their forearm, unsure of what the look he was giving them meant.

“Um...do I look okay? Or do I need to add something else-”

“Perfect...” Asmo muttered, walking towards Heart and grabbing their hand. “You look perfect.”

Heart turned their head, trying to hide the nervousness now bubbling up in their stomach. Asmo lead them down to the foyer, meeting the other two and heading out for the night. Heart kept stealing glances at Levi, noticing the love-struck look in his eyes as he watched Sarah talk about her most recent interview with Devilstyle. He wondered if Sarah knew, but he pushed the thought away. He knew part of her did, but Sarah was similar to Asmo in that way. Sometimes, they get so wrapped up in themselves, they have a hard time recognizing true emotions behind someone’s love for them. Heart sighed, turning to look at Asmo, who was laughing along with Sarah’s comment about the interviewer’s mustache.

He felt a kinship with Levi in his feelings about Asmo. He tried to divert his thoughts as they partied through the night; smoking, drinking, and dancing away...but as he watched Asmo and Sarah go crazy on the floor while he and Levi nervously danced next to each other, he couldn’t stop the part of him that wondered if maybe they had both somehow fallen for someone who was impossible to obtain.

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janeofcakes · 2 years

Text

Persistence 2: Chapter 13

I’m actually back in a week’s time. Hooray!! I hope you all enjoy.

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Sherlock watched as John rose slowly and stepped from his hiding place. He pulled his Sig from where it was tucked in the back of his waistband, flicked off the safety and trained it on Moran. Sherlock’s veins ran with ice when the two men turned to face John, guns cocked and ready. There wasn’t even a hitch in John’s step as he walked closer to his enemies. Sherlock tried to ease the tension in his body. John had spent years as a soldier developing nerves of steel and everything about his stance and posture spoke to that, but Sherlock was still amazed at times like this. He had been at the end of a barrel many times himself and had adopted a casual attitude toward it too, but all bets were off for him when a weapon was pointed at John.

His love and life, the one thing he couldn’t bear to lose. Knowing John as he did, Sherlock couldn’t imagine how John survived the eight months after his death. John did it because he was strong, the strongest person Sherlock had ever known. Had their roles been reversed, the detective would surely have put a bullet in his own brain, not wanting to quiet the slow torture of his mind with cocaine. He promised John he would never use again and would not break his word in the whole of his days.

Thoughts clouded with vague images of John mourning his loss, Sherlock shook his head to focus on the here and now. He had spent every waking moment since Strange appeared trying not to think about John’s life over the last eight months. He couldn’t let it distract him now when John most needed him.

“Wondered when you’d turn up,” John’s voice was harsh and mocking. “Expected you an hour ago at least. Not like I tried to hide where I was going. You’re slipping.”

“That’s far enough,” Moran ordered sharply.

Moran and the other man had their backs to Sherlock, but he could see John easily as he halted his step to stand a mere ten feet away from Moran. Sherlock wished it was 50 or 100. He didn’t want John anywhere near these men and here he was acting as bait. Sherlock was a fool to ever allow it. A smirk tugged at his lips, even as he had the thought. No one “allows” John Watson to do anything.

“I knew you were leading us somewhere,” Moran muttered darkly. “Didn’t expect here though. I have such fond memories of this place, don’t you? Seeing Holmes fall off the edge is the highlight of my year.”

John didn’t respond, his jaw clenched and eyes blazing. He didn’t bother to hide his anger, knowing Moran would see it as a weakness. In truth, it was anything but. Anger only served to sharpen John’s focus.

“Speaking of which,” Moran drawled, “where is your taller half? No way you came alone.”

John bent his right elbow and shrugged dismissively, his hand open and palm facing upward. He flashed a cheeky half smile and let out a short huff of breath through his nose.

“Looks like you don’t know me as well as you think,” John lowered his right hand and grew serious again. The change was jarring, but not so much as the dangerous smile he gave Moran next. “You know I’m alone. We know you’re always watching. Have you seen anyone else leave the flat.”

It wasn’t a question in spite of how it was phrased and Sherlock could imagine Moran’s tight expression from his body language alone. The man stood ramrod straight, every muscle hard as stone. Sherlock’s stomach clenched when he saw Moran’s fingers tighten around his gun, finger twitching on the trigger. The man inclined his head stiffly in concession and a satisfied smirk spread over John’s face.

“A deal,” John answered the unasked question and Moran straightened, assessing John’s every move.

Sherlock knew the man would search John’s face and appearance for any hint of deception. John really was so much better at hiding the truth than he used to be. The result of the last eight months perhaps. Sherlock pressed his lips into a thin line and he resolutely pushed the thought of John alone in their flat from his mind.

“Go on,” Moran prompted. His attempt to sound uninterested fell flat and he knew it.

“I surrender myself,” John’s voice was flat and cold. There was no negotiating the terms, that much was crystal clear. “You kill me. You leave, and never come back. Revenge complete.”

“That’s meant to satisfy me?” Moran barked, his voice filled with fury and a hint of incredulity.

“Why not?” John shrugged without concern. “You intended to kill Sherlock so I would suffer. This is simply the reverse.”

“You’d wish that on him?” Moran’s words dripped with skepticism. “A life of misery. You are a coward, Captain Watson.”

He said John’s name with disdain, like he had a bad taste in his mouth. Every muscle in Sherlock’s body tightened as he watched John. Moran was smart. He had gleaned enough from the time of John’s captivity to know which buttons to push. If John was going to lose his composure, it was now.

Sherlock watched John clench his jaw hard enough to crack his own teeth. His nostrils flared and fury burned in his sharp, blue eyes. This time his fingers squeezed around his gun and its trigger. His other hand was clenched into a fist at his side as he visibly tamped down his anger. None of this was so obvious to anyone else on the roof, of course, but Sherlock could see it all as clearly as a cloudless sky.

“He’ll get over it,” John replied, affecting indifference.

“What’s going to stop me from coming for him?” a wicked grin grew on Moran’s face and he narrowed his eyes. “You’ll be dead.”

“But so many others won’t be,” John reminded smugly. His expression hardened with his next words. “You touch him, get too close, or even look at him too long and you die. Anything happens to him, even if it can’t be traced to you, and you’re done. You should be protecting him, really.”

John paused and let his mouth curve into a cunning smile, dangerous with promise. He gave his Sig a little jerk to draw Moran’s eyes.

“Or I could just end you right now,” John said off-handedly. “Save me a lot of trouble.”

“Then why don’t you?” Moran asked, pleased with himself. John needed the deal to make sure Sherlock would be safe not just from Moran, but his men as well, and Moran knew it. With Moran dead and no order given, his men would still hunt down Sherlock just like the three assassins would have done if they hadn’t been killed.

Neither man spoke. The frightening look remained on John’s face as he watched Moran, who mirrored it. They had one another over a barrel. Neither had a choice but to go along with the deal and it was only a matter of time before Moran agreed to John’s terms. Sherlock took his eyes from John’s face to glance at the cooling unit where Strange hid and saw nothing. With Moran facing John, it was too dangerous for Strange to watch without being seen. Sherlock looked Greg’s way as well just to reassure himself that they were both there. It was illogical, but kept the detective’s heart from beating out of his chest.

“Fine,” Moran bit out the word with hatred. His shoulder gave a twitch as though his whole body wanted to protest the decision.

John gave the slightest dip of his chin and lifted his finger from where it was tightly curved around the Sig’s trigger. He raised both hands, palms facing Moran. The Sig hung loosely in his grip. Moran lifted his own gun in a commanding gesture and John moved accordingly, slowly crouching to place the Sig on the roof and rise again. Sherlock felt every nerve in his body crack to life when John kicked the gun away. This was the moment of truth. Moran could either shoot John where he stood or force him off the roof. Sherlock was certain the man would choose the latter, but it was a gamble and one he did not relish taking. He had attempted to change the plan more than once since they all settled on it to no avail. John had been so damn insistent and would not relent until he agreed to go along with Strange’s every word.

You’ve never been wrong, Sherlock.

That is a boldfaced lie.

You know people. You know him, and so do I. You’re not wrong about what he’ll choose. This will work. Down to the letter.

Now, with Moran’s barrel pointed at John and the ball in his court, Sherlock wished he had argued more. He wished he had told Strange to go fuck himself the moment the bloody wizard finished explaining the plan. There had to have been a better alternative, if only they had given him time to think!

Except that there wasn’t one and Sherlock knew it. They didn’t have the time to think of something else. Mycroft’s assassination could take place at any time and they had to prevent it. This was the surest way to flush out Moran and have the element of surprise while doing it. Sherlock just hoped it played out as he had foreseen.

Sherlock held his breath as Moran twitched the end of his barrel toward the roof’s edge, the same place he had made Sherlock fall from eight months earlier. John began moving without a word. Moran and his lackey swiveled to continue facing John as he went. Moran walked forward, forcing John closer to the edge, while the man with him remained slightly behind. Sherlock could easily take him down and Greg was now close enough to help John. Meanwhile, Strange’s head popped up to watch the action. By the time John and Moran stopped walking, John’s calves skimmed the short safety wall around the roof’s perimeter and Moran was a good ten feet before him.

“Jumping,” John commented dryly. “How original. Can’t imagine how you came up with that.”

“You owe him a fall,” Moran’s voice rumbled from his chest, his face twisted in fury. “You both do.”

Sherlock’s skin prickled at the words. They were the same ones Moran had uttered just before forcing Sherlock onto the safety wall eight months ago. His blood ran cold and he fought his body’s urge to freeze up in panic. He tried to block the memories from flooding his mind and failed. Falling, darkness, slowing to suddenly land on the pavement, looking up at John. John.

Sherlock blinked his eyes and saw Strange rising to his feet. The detective’s eyes widened in shock as his mind scrambled for a reason behind his actions. This was decidedly not part of the plan and could disrupt everything. Sherlock couldn’t tear his eyes away from Strange as his mind grappled for an explanation. There was something in the wizard’s gaze, something deadly serious, and something else… Regret? Sherlock knew in an instant what the man planned to do and was powerless to stop him.

“Hey, asshole,” Strange called out with an impudent smile plastered across his face. “Remember me?”

Moran twisted his body immediately at the sound and fixed a death glare on Strange. John’s face went slack and his eyes widened in horror. Sherlock watched the color drained from his husband’s face before turning his gaze back to the cloaked man, who looked even more self-assured than usual as he shrugged his shoulders. Moran’s dark eyes glinted with recognition.

Before anyone could move, Moran snarled at Strange and pointed his firearm at him in one fluid motion. He squeezed the trigger and a bullet jettisoned from its barrel. John shouted the wizard’s name as they all watched the projectile rocket toward its final destination. Sherlock expected the man to fall back and disappear behind the cooling unit for cover, but he didn’t even flinch. Sherlock’s lips parted in shock, his eyes growing tenfold as his mind struggled to process what he saw.

The bullet had stopped. It hung in the air a foot from Strange’s chest. It was as if time stood still, until the man smirked and plucked it from the air with the tips of his index finger and thumb.

“Nice to see you again too,” he murmured sarcastically and dropped the bullet pointedly.

Moran let loose a feral howl and turned to rush the wizard, but John launched himself forward with the power of a coiled spring and tackled Moran to the ground. The gun went off again as they fell, but had no effect on either. Sherlock came out of hiding as they grappled and knocked into Moran’s henchman, wrapping his long arms around him. The man turned his head and snapped his teeth at the detective, arms pinned at his sides. He lurched with powerful legs and nearly made Sherlock lose his balance. Instead, the detective pivoted and slammed the man into the long cooling unit he had hidden behind. The man grunted in pain and the gun fell from his hand.

“Sherlock!” Strange shouted as a portal opened to the detective’s right.

Sherlock yanked his adversary from the cold metal of the unit and threw him into the crackling circle’s depths. It vanished as quickly as it had come, taking the man with it. Sherlock took a tired breath, but the respite was short-lived.

Two shots fired across the roof and Sherlock spun to see Moran pushing John away from his body. John hit the ground hard, his head cracking against the cement safety wall around the roof’s edge. He blinked slowly, eyes wide, but fought off the impending fog and kept his wits about him. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much John could do to escape Moran’s fury. Already training his gun on John, Moran snarled like a starving animal and grinned through the blood in his teeth.

The world slowed to an unbearable pace. Sherlock’s body wouldn’t, couldn’t move fast enough. He leapt for the gun Moran’s partner had dropped, landing hard on his right hip and curling to get Moran in his sights. Moran fired before Sherlock did. The detective screamed John’s name, knowing it was too late.

Sherlock wasn’t fast enough.

But Greg was.

Greg Lestrade started running the moment Moran flung John’s body to the ground. When the shot was fired, Greg threw himself in between the fallen doctor and the bullet, taking the full brunt of its force. His spine arched under the impact as he flew, body crumpling when he hit the ground in front of John. Time slowed to a crawl as the events played out. John shouted in disbelief. Sherlock’s bullet found its target in Moran’s back. A portal swept across the roof and swallowed the villain as he fell, then vanished.

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OMG, Dude!

#Sherlock Holmes #sherlockholmes #Sherlock #sherlock fanfiction #john watson #johnwatson #johnlock #Johnlock fanfic #Stephen Strange #CrossOver #greg lestrade #sebastian moran

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redwineconversation · 2 years

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Lyon - Chelsea UWCL Pregame Thoughts

Lyon isn't the same team from the 2018-2019 UWCL semi-final (leg 1; leg 2). Neither is Chelsea.

Maybe that's the point.

They're not the same teams, but some things remain the same. Hegerberg is still scary. Emma Hayes still hates Lyon the way Lyon hates losing. Neither team particularly likes the other but there is some form of respect in their own way.

The media's focus is on Sam Kerr but I find it interesting that Lyon's focus is on Chelsea's own Gebe, Guro Reiten - a player I would honestly love at Lyon, even if it's not going to happen (at least anytime soon).

Harder popped up on the team sheet, much to everyone's surprise. I've seen some back and forth about whether this was Hayes trying to play mind games with Lyon, a reminder to take Chelsea seriously the way Lyon putting Hegerberg on the team sheet is a warning shot.

I love Harder (or at least pre-Chelsea Harder, I should say). She was arguably one of the best, if not the best, players in the world during her time at Wolfsburg. So much potential, and then she moved to Chelsea for Eriksson a new challenge, and, well. She's not really been the same since, because for reasons I can't quite comprehend Hayes did manage to misuse a player of Harder’s abilities.

But yeah. As a football fan, I'd still love to have Harder on my team. As a Lyon fan, though, I don't want her anywhere near my team. There's a simple reason for that: in order to be the best, you have to beat the best, and Harder is one of them.

I think Lyon kind of misses Harder, too. Monsters recognize monsters, and Harder brings that out in them. Lyon is forced to take her seriously. I think they just miss playing against her, because she's the kind of player that forces them to up their game. They take her seriously in a way they take few other players as seriously.

So how is tomorrow's game going to go? Honestly, it's harder to predict than anyone thinks. As I said, Lyon aren't the same team from 2018/2019, neither is Chelsea; and the ICC Tournament this year didn't really tell us anything either, except that Lyon only seemed to remember they needed to win to advance to the final when there was 15 minutes left.

Lyon is feeling better about themselves, but I question the logic of having put Malard on the team sheet when Bompastor herself admitted that Malard had been playing with the reserves due to a loss of form and confidence. I'm not convinced that a player lacking in confidence will suddenly find it against Chelsea. Then again, Eriksson goes have gift of conceding own goals, so I guess maybe there is logic after all.

And Emma Hayes hates Lyon. She really does. I'm not quite sure what Lyon specifically has done to offend her so much, except for having a set of moral values which allow them to win the Champions League eight times. Barcelona is kept up at night because they are afraid of Lyon. Emma Hayes is kept up at night because of her hatred of Lyon.

Emma Hayes has gone on the record and said she wants to be the one to bring down Lyon. I guess if there's any year to do it, it might as well be this one, since Lyon will be playing without Henry / Macario / MBock and Hegerberg last played seven (7!!!) months ago. If you're going to play Lyon at anytime, better it's when they're still a little crippled.

But it's also maybe a bit better to be cautious. Because Emma Hayes has been going around saying that she wants to be the one to beat Lyon. The Lyon players are aware of that. And it is making them just a little vexed.

#all good love stories start in the rain

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repmet · 5 years

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eight people i’d like to know better

I was tagged by @infinitew-olf. Thanks for the tag!

ONE / name / alias: Grace

TWO / birthday: August 13th

THREE / zodiac sign: Leo

FOUR / height: 6’

FIVE / hobbies: gaming, acting, bitching

SIX / favourite colors: Purple

SEVEN / favourite books:

EIGHT / last song listened to: Cadillac Ranch by Bruce Springsteen

NINE / last film watched: True Bloodthirst (would not recommend though the acting isn’t bad)

TEN / inspiration for muse: I feel like this is an rp thing? But I don’t rp so...

ELEVEN / dream job: I just wanna have money and do nothing, where are all the sugar daddies you don’t have to see or talk to who just pay you

TWELVE / meaning behind your url: it’s ‘temper’ backwards there’s a story but at this point it’s irrelevant lol

THIRTEEN / top 3 ships: Sybil/Tom, Lois/Clark, Prompto/Noctis

FOURTEEN / lipstick or chapstick: lip balm for my dry cracked lips

FIFTEEN / currently reading: fanfic I guess lol

Okay, not sure what’s going on but tumblr is being super annoying and not letting me actually tag people. Sorry, feel free to do this if you like.

#infinitew-olf #though tagging people always makes me anxious #though i have been trying to when i get tagged lately #though i did not have anywhere near eight in mind #lol #i'll just tag next time

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leslie057 · 2 years

Text

chop logic;

pairings: nancy/jonathan, nancy&steve, nancy&mike

word count: 7.3k

rating: teen (swearing + sexual references)

summary: at the height of an existential crisis, she sliced off eight inches of her hair…and now she’s asking jonathan byers if he, too, would like a trim.

read on ao3

A Friday Morning in Late September, 1984

“It’s still wild to me that you really did it, Nance—do you like it?”

“Yes, I like it.”

“You don’t think you’ll get bored of it?”

She gently shakes her head side to side, looking at her reflection in the glazy car window. “No, it feels better,” she insists. “Lighter.”

He shuts his door and walks around the back of the luxury car to stand at her side. “You know, I guess it’s growing on me, too,” he brushes off her shoulder affectionately, “you’ve kinda got the whole Michelle Pfeiffer thing going on? Scarface? Just need the bangs and some bleach.”

She considers it. “Really?”

Steve’s laugh echoes around them, rich and resonant, which completely catches her off guard. “Yeah, sure? But you’re out of your mind if you think I’m letting you get your mom’s Clorox anywhere near that pretty little head of yours.”

Earlier that morning (as in: before-sunrise early), eight inches of her hair got sliced off at the height of an existential crisis. She had been tossing and turning in bed for hours, long hours, that gave her too much room to be alone with her thoughts. The emotional breakdown she’d been repressing for ages couldn’t wait. She couldn’t repress anymore, so the dam burst, and she cried until sunup. After that, she needed a change, a chop, an event. Something had to happen or she’d have forgotten which dimension of the universe she was in—or, worse, analyzed the fact that there’s ones out there other than this one.

And now her boyfriend’s looking at her funny.

She follows his lead as they head toward the front of the school together. The fall breeze pecks at her skin and makes her shiver. In retrospect, she probably shouldn’t have worn such a short skirt today.

“Oh. Well, i-it’s just hair. You don’t think blonde hair is pretty?”

“I think I like brunettes a lot better,” he quips. Impressive timing.

What she doesn’t understand, though, is why it has to be a laughing matter. Would she look that ridiculous as a blonde? Just because she’s bookish and straightforward and serious doesn’t mean she has to have a certain look, does it? That certain look is what she had when he decided he wanted her, wanted her over all the other fish in the sea. She was special, and she’d never been that to anyone before.

They come to the main entrance of the school and, casting aside her simmering annoyance, she crosses the threshold while he holds the door open for her. “Hmm, flirting with me when I haven’t even given your French paper back to you…”

“Shit! It’s due this morning—”

“And here it is,” her fingers find the edge of her folder and slip out his paper, “500 words in all their foreign glory, and I think I got your handwriting right this time. You’re welcome.”

His widened eyes relax, and he swoops down to kiss her, deeply. There’s a bit of a…contraction, in her chest. That’s only because he’s just cut off her oxygen supply. Only. Definitely.

She pushes him lightly until he moves away. He begins spewing his palliations, rapid-fire style. “I love you you’re a princess I’m gonna buy you a milkshake today you’ll never have to do this for me again I promise I—”

“Will find the time for your next one? Yeah, you will.”

“Nancy, I’m seriously sorry. Coach has been strict with us all week, freakishly strict, I really didn’t have time to work on it.”

“I get it.”

“Okay.” Another kiss from him. “Good.” One more. “Just…be thinking about what you want me to get you for this because I’ll get you a whole damn castle, I will. Whole swimming pool full of bleach.”

She smiles. “Would you shut up about the bleach?”

“Yes! Yeah, I’ll even do that! Hey, I’m serious about the milkshake, though. You and me? After school? What do you say?”

“Okay.”

Essay in hand, he starts out for his class, and she won’t see him again until the lunch bell.

God, she’s gonna be rethinking her stupid haircut all morning, isn’t she?

Her first couple of classes pass by slowly, slower than usual, and she spends them both entirely inside her head. Her thoughts spiral like crazy in the cold and colorless classrooms, leaving stress to settle as dead weight on her shoulders. It doesn’t feel good, it doesn’t even feel tolerable. No matter how many factors in her life she tries to change, whether it’s her hair or her clothes, everything seems intolerable. She realizes that she has no choice but to deal with it all for now, but she hates that she has to. Hates medicating her anxiety with schoolwork and milkshakes and dissociation. That shit is killing her.

When History ends (at long last), she rushes to leave and move on to the next claustrophobic stress-trap of a room. Stopping her in her tracks, the teacher calls her out: “Nancy, I need to see you for a minute.”

Fantastic.

She rolls her eyes and pauses, turning to face him. “What is it?”

“Skirt length,” he notes.

She raises her eyebrows.

“I need to check your skirt length.”

She’ll state the obvious for him. “I have to go to class.”

“And it will just take a second, Miss Wheeler. Come here.”

She approaches his desk, and he takes the wooden ruler off the chalk ledge of his board. He holds the end of it against her kneecap, measuring the distance from knee to hem.

“You’re cutting it close…I suppose there’s no reason to make you change, though. Would you pull it down a little bit please, before you go into the hall? It’s hardly appropriate.”

She huffs. “Sure thing.”

“Thank you,” he says as she exits, “that’s a nice haircut, Miss Wheeler.”

Is there a way to just fucking...grow it all back? Every time she touched it, she got flashbacks to it being matted with tree portal sludge, but it turns out sludge is so much better than It’s growing on me and Nice haircut, Miss Wheeler.

She must be hallucinating. Jonathan Byers. Locker. Jonathan, at his locker. He is never at his locker.

But the stars have aligned, and the few extra seconds she spent getting a skirt check have bought her a rare opportunity to catch him before their shared English class, not after. She doesn’t know what possesses her, but she practically sprints across the corridor to get to him. She taps him once on his left shoulder then quickly moves around him to stand on his right side. She leans sideways against the lockers, grinning as he glances back in the opposite direction, his brows pushed together and his lips stuck in a puzzled pout.

“Hey there.”

He glances her way this time, mumbling, “Oh, hey.”

Clearly, he didn’t really look at her.

“Why are you at your locker? It’s quiz day, you don’t need any books.”

His body and eyes face forward. “Unless I finish early and wanna read?”

“Ooh, what are you reading?”

He closes his locker and finally angles his body toward hers. He does a double take then, making her fight a smile. Tough fight to win.

“Uh, I…you—your hair? You got it cut?”

She looks off to the side. Runs her hand through it, especially casual. “Oh, kinda, yeah. I did it myself.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm. This morning, I mean, I woke up, it looked so unhealthy. I didn’t like it, and the scissors were right there, so…I chopped it.”

“How did you do it so perfect?”

“It’s pretty easy,” she answers. Waiting for him to actually say something about it. The anticipation is making her face so hot, she can’t believe it. A definitive opinion would be nice, really nice.

“Looks cool,” he decides, with the faintest tremble in his voice. What is that about? Not satisfying, Jonathan.

“Does it look…good? On me? I liked it at first, but I’m not sure anymore. I know it’s just hair…” She looks down, down at her skirt, in an attempt to pull his eyes to a point on her thigh. She’s fishing for a compliment and attention; what? Why does he make her get like this? Why does every interaction with him feel like such a fever dream? His presence is a shot of straight impulsivity to her. It’s like she can say anything or do anything around him—and yet nothing will change. No reactions, no consequences.

“No, yeah. Yeah, it looks good on you,” he confirms, “it looks good.”

She loves when he takes her bait. Not that it matters if he likes her hair.

He does, though. That is beyond satiating because the haircut really did prevent (delay) a fit of insanity.

“Thanks. The change feels good, you know? Sometimes I feel like I’m living…I don’t know, like…”

He leans his shoulder on the lockers, mirroring her body language as he softly thumbs the dust jacket of the book in his hands. The Two Towers? What is that? Oh, okay, it says Lord of the Rings; he’s reading it for Will. The boys have loved the series ever since they could read chapterbooks, but maybe Jonathan never tried them. She never did, either, for the sake of originality. She didn’t mind playing D&D with her little brother’s friends (actually, she enjoyed it a lot growing up), but she had too much pride to read all the same books as him. Jonathan never cared about making such a separation between himself and Will. It’s so cute that he—

“Like you’re living the same day over and over?”

Yes.

She nods. “I don’t know if this makes any logical sense, but I guess making myself look different is my way of tricking my brain into thinking life is…restarting? Like last year didn’t happen?”

He chews his lip, staring vacantly past her.

“Paying for that by having Mr. Walker poke at my leg with his ruler,” she mutters. Her old Good Girl Skirts certainly didn’t raise any questions.

That confused pout settles again on his mouth. “What?”

“Nevermind…there’s nothing wrong with change, though, right? Now that I cut my hair, I almost wanna do more. What do you think I would look like as a blonde?”

“Like your sister, probably,” he predicts. With a quickness that lets her know he’s teasing her.

She smiles at him, and he looks at the floor. His long bangs fall in his eyes. She’s noticed that they hit right at his eyelashes when his head’s straight, so he’s obviously been allowing his hair to grow out, like she was prior to today. He doesn’t brush it down anymore, possibly because he spends more time rubbing out the bags beneath his ever-cloudy eyes (she can relate), but she wonders what it would look like if pushed back some. If it was a little— lighter, for him.

“Hey, Jonathan?”

“Yeah?”

“You wanna let me cut your hair?”

“Uhh…”

“Come on, we cut our hands together already,” she whispers. “This is the same thing, just without any pain.”

“I don’t know, Nancy…”

“It’s gonna look so good, though! And I have nothing fun to do tonight, I already finished all of Steve’s homework.” She says it like it’s a joke though not far off from the truth. “Please?” she begs sweetly, trying to convince him with her eyes.

“I…don’t know if I can…”

Why does he sound so scared?

“Sure you can, just stay when you bring Will over for the boys’ movie night.”

“They’re going to the arcade tonight, I thought.”

Now he’s just lying to her. She loves Lying, she’s Lying’s biggest fan, she’s having an affair with Lying. But recieving his shameless fibs fucking sucks.

“No, uh, no arcade. Dustin got his hands on The Slumber Party Massacre somehow, so…”

“Doesn’t sound like their kind of movie?”

“Maybe not your brother. My brother is very excited to see a bunch of teenage girls run around in their pajamas until they get murdered one by one.”

“Oh…”

She can see him thinking about it all. About how Mike and Will are thirteen now. Not babies anymore, not small. It is sad in a way. It’s gonna shatter Jonathan’s heart into a million pieces when Will eventually and inevitably starts caring more about the actresses in movies than the elements of fantasy or horror. She herself can’t imagine him feeling that way about girls, now or in the future.

The bell rings suddenly and brings them both back into the moment.

“It’s settled then.”

“Oh, it is?” he counters.

“Yes. It’ll be fun, I promise.”

He smiles for a split second, not with his teeth (that’s for very special, specific occasions), then sticks his tongue in his cheek to reset his expression. “For me or for you?”

“For both of us,” she promises, “now come on, you’re making us late.”

The vanilla malt Steve orders for her after school is way, way, way too much milkshake to finish all by herself, so they share it. It’s like their first date—double date. Her and Steve, Tommy and Carol. Weirdly enough, the pair made things better between them at that time. Their relationship was so ostentatious, unstable, stupid; it made her feel like what she had with Steve was serious by comparison. Rare, truly. She was sure no one else in the world could possibly understand their love because: he wasn’t supposed to love a girl like her, yet, he saw past her plainness and chose her. Chose her over the dozens of other girls desperate to be his.

She isn’t insecure like she was at fifteen.

(Like, she’s not plain, right? Okay, sure, she didn’t get romantic attention before Steve asked her out and, yeah, was a late bloomer. She doesn’t have a super bubbly personality. She has been told she’s bossy her whole life. Boys tend to be scared of her competitiveness and, to her knowledge, it’s not a “that’s so hot” kind of thing, more of a “what is her deal?” thing. A lot of people believed it when Steve painted her as a cheating slut, but it’s fine. Who cares? She’s smart and pretty. A good person. Good, loyal. Not a slut.)

Anyway, she’s not insecure.

So it’s a bit unpleasant to think about how lucky she felt to be noticed by him. There’s an imbalance there. Why should it have taken luck for her to be chosen and wanted by someone?

She’s deserving of attention, of love. She’s deserving of love. Probably. She’s deserving of love? Yes.

(No? She killed her best friend. She’s positive she did.)

Thankfully, despite the initial imbalance in their relationship, they really are in love with each other now. Would damn sure be awkward if they weren’t. But he’s so sweet, how could she not love him? He’s sweet and funny. The palpable desire in him to make her happy could…suffocate. Her.

It could suffocate her.

“Nancy?”

“Yeah?”

“You okay?”

“Mhm, why?”

“Cause,” he gestures to her hands, “you’re doing it again.”

She looks at her pale hands which rest next to their drink on the table, one scratching at the other. Trying to open her scar, disrupt its healing.

“I’m so sorry, that’s—really gross, I didn’t realize I was—”

“Hey, no, come here,” he soothes as he pulls her into a tight hug, “don’t worry about it.”

He holds her for a while like that…in the middle of the Dairy Queen. It feels great, he’s a great hugger. She is grateful for it. He starts whispering to her about how everything is gonna be alright and how he’s here for her. Sweet, again, even if he jumped the gun; she really was messing with her scar out of habit and nothing more. But they had an argument recently over him being insensitive about Her Trauma (she refused to go in his backyard because it reminded her of Barb cutting herself on the beer can, which is what attracted the Demofucker, as she hypothesized), and now he’s making extra sure to be sensitive and comforting in any and every case where she might possibly be experiencing a bad memory. Wow, it’s annoying how—

“What do you say we get out of here?” he suggests when he pulls away. “All done with your milkshake?”

She nods, her mouth tight. Please, I’m tired.

She sits silently as he retrieves a few bills to leave as a tip. She reaches out and rubs his arm to make him feel cared for, too. To even things out.

Once they’re back in his BMW, his hand is on her thigh.

“Thanks for buying,” she says. “I probably don’t thank you enough for always paying for stuff.”

“No need to thank me.”

“Yes, there is! You don’t have to, but you do, and it’s sweet.”

“Come on, you kidding me? You’re the prettiest thing anyone’s ever seen, Nance, of course I’m—”

“Oh, here we go,” she teases.

“I said of course I’m gonna do that for you. I’d do anything for you. You’re amazing.”

She sighs. “Thank you.”

He looks pleased that she accepted his compliments.

(She doesn’t want his compliments about how pretty she is. There are a million other insecurities eating her alive much faster than the am-I-pretty-parasite; it is quite literally the only thing he talks about. The affirmations, as smooth as they sound coming from such a charming guy—her boyfriend—just don’t go much deeper than her looks and feel inaccurate when they do. It bites.)

“So, what do you wanna do tonight?”

Immediate confusion. She blinks at the vibrant stop sign that’s posted ahead of them. She couldn’t agree with it more. Stop, Steve!

“We can go to my house,” he squeezes her thigh, “my parents aren’t home.”

Oh. That’s what he meant? That’s what “what do you say we get outta here” meant? She was kind of thinking yes, let’s get out of here as in I have a warm bed to crawl into and a power nap to take before I cut Jonathan’s hair.

Well, she guesses it’s only fair to go to his place. They haven’t had sex in a long time. It’s bad of her to do that to him.

But she doesn’t want to go because she currently has no sex drive.

(Needing to touch herself in private doesn’t count, does it? It’s just easier to get turned on when she’s by herself. Nestled in her own bed, safe with her own thoughts, her own fantasies. Of course her fingers feel better than Steve’s, why wouldn’t they? That doesn’t mean anything. And, okay, no, she doesn’t think about him when she’s getting herself off, but it’s fine. She comes faster if she clears her mind, there’s nothing wrong with that. Except she doesn’t really clear her mind, she often thinks of boys from movies or books and, it’s crazy, sometimes they look similar to…someone…she…knows? Look, she only uses that as a last resort, so it’s not that bad.)

“Um.”

“If you have to be home for dinner, it’s okay. Just give me an hour, let me…let me take your mind off all the shit that’s been stressing you out, yeah? You’ve been worrying yourself to death, you need to let yourself relax—”

“I’m on my period,” she spits out. And she was, a few days ago. Now she’s not.

“Oh…kay. Okay. Jesus, you probably don’t feel so good right now?”

“No. It sucks. I’m sorry, I know it’s been forever since I’ve slept over.”

“No, don’t apologize. I mean, there’s nothing we can do about it.”

Not totally true. Hypothetically they could…well, have sex. But she’s trying to get out of that.

Shit, it sounds horrible even inside her head. No, not horrible. Incriminating.

(She’s not trying to be horrible. She has no choice. Life has gotten really awful, and she has to spare herself the emotional exhaustion wherever she can. Her panic attacks consist of full-blown hallucinations, her body goes into fight-or-flight at the drop of a hat, she’s drowning in her own anger every minute of the day, and she no longer remembers what it feels like to not be on the verge of crying. After all that, what strength is she left with to get her through a night of sex with someone who she isn’t…in love…with? Her feelings for him are deeper than casual friendship, yes, but she’s not in love with him at this point. She has grown to love him in a nonphysical, camraderie-rooted way that makes sex with him weird and exhausting when it doesn’t just make her numb. She doesn’t want to be his girlfriend, but if she tells him that, she won’t be anything to him. So she does want to be his girlfriend. See how tricky it is?)

“But I am sorry, can I sleep over next weekend? I wanna come over then.”

Liar.

“Of course but, I mean, you should still come over today. We can just hang out.”

She sighs.

“Or not,” he concedes.

“I’m sorry. I just need to go home, okay? It’s been a long day.”

He pulls into the very next driveway, an auto shop parking lot, to turn the car around. To put them in the direction of her neighborhood rather than his. “Whatever you say, Nance.”

Yeah, Steve. Whatever I say.

That power nap she was drooling over is, ultimately, too powerful; for three straight hours, she is a motionless little hill beneath her blankets, dead to the world, and unprepared for Jonathan’s arrival. Once she is awake, she is groggy and dedicates an additional ten minutes to laying in bed—until she checks the clock. 6:55pm. Slumber Party Massacre starts at seven sharp, so she has got to get up.

The truth is she has no idea how to cut Boy Hair (or her own; she was literally just fucking around with the kitchen scissors this morning), and the only reason she begged him for permission to do so was because after she got the idea, it was way too tempting to let go of.

It can’t be hard, right? In comparison to other ventures she’s taken on? He will look cute even if she messes it up—

In the bathroom, she spends a moment making some careful product selections. She definitely wants the detangling spray, it’ll keep his hair damp for cutting. And for styling? Maybe some leave-in conditioner. For good measure, she grabs a pair of metal shears that certainly appear to be meant for grooming, a couple of towels, and her own Conair Pistol dryer that she uses every day.

When she catches herself in the mirror, she frowns. Her eye makeup is all smudgy, her powder has begun to separate from her skin. She washes it all away, cleans her hands, then hurries back to her room to change clothes. As she unzips and sheds her skirt, delighting in the elimination of constriction, the sound of the doorbell makes her jump. She slips into the first pair of pants she finds, puts on a comfortable shirt, and goes downstairs.

Looks like she’s not gonna beat Mike to the door.

“Hey, I want to answer that!” she shouts while he runs in from the kitchen.

He ignores her and flings open the door. A few seconds too late, she comes up beside him, wedging herself between him and the doorframe to make herself seen. Still he ignores her.

“Will! Hey!”

“Hey!”

She barks out her brother’s name in a way that draws it out and shows her exasperation: Mike-cuh!

“Leave us alone,” he snarls and subsequently directs his attention back to the smaller Byers boy, pulling him inside the house, toward the basement stairs. “Come on, we’re about to start the movie!”

The boys disappear down the stairs, leaving her alone with Jonathan who has since come out from where he’d tucked himself into the shadows, standing off to the side of the welcome mat.

With crossed arms, she keeps her head turned over her shoulder. “I said I wanted to answer it, asshole!”

Silence.

“So fucking annoying,” she mutters to herself. Then she relaxes her body, easing the tension in her muscles or hoping to, anyway. She turns to look at Jonathan. He seems spooked, to say the least, if not entertained.

“Uh, hi?”

“Sorry, hey.”

“Should I…come in?”

“Yeah, duh.” She pulls the door open wider for him as she hops back from the sill.

“No, I mean, really—should I? You seem kind of mad, I don’t know if I should subject myself to you and your scissors right now.”

So she’s not allowed to call her own brother a mean name? Now who’s being annoying?

“I’m not—”

Okay, she yelled that.

“I’m not mad…” That was better. That was calm.

Jonathan’s skeptical expression brightens up into something sly yet smiley and sympathetic that shuts her rage off fast. Though she should be used to all his complexities, used to the surprising combinations of hidden traits that make him Him, her joints begin to buzz. She could be wrong about this one, but she senses flirtatious energy all around him—regardless of his tight jaw and tense body. His sleeves might as well be sewn to his belt loops with the way he’s sinking into himself, trying to keep his anxiety from falling out of his pockets. He may be aiming to minimize himself visually, but it’s not exactly working. Sure, his waist is tiny, teeny tiny, but those shoulders are broader than anything. Especially under the light color of his Henley. Newsflash, we can see you. And we want to see you.

“You doing okay?”

“Yeah, I’m okay,” she sighs. “Just stop looking at me like that.”

Stop looking at me like you don’t know about your perfect shoulder-to-waist ratio.

He follows her up to her bedroom, which doesn’t look too terribly untidy, though the bed is unmade. She has laid out some large bath towels around the legs of her desk chair and neatly lined up her supplies on the desk. She gestures for him to sit before correcting herself—“Wait, wait, wait”—and spins the chair around so it's facing away from her mirror. He crosses his arms. A flimsy display of protest, perhaps. She grins. “Okay, now, sit.”

She won’t be swayed. If he watches her, she won’t be focused. This has got to be a blind haircut.

When she goes to close her door, he does sit down, as instructed. Such an obedient customer.

“Does that work?” he asks, arm extended out to a record player that sits on the floor beside her white drawer chest.

“Oh, yeah, what do you wanna listen to—”

“W-whatever you want, it doesn’t matter to me.”

Bad liar. Bad! He must think she can’t see the truth. Little does he know that his habit of hiding himself and preempting vulnerable situations is what pressures her to pursue his secrets. There is so much about him that is a secret to her. In fact, this is the first time they’ve hung out together, outside of school and alone, since last winter.

But music taste isn’t that revealing. Not in the same way that your biggest phobia is revealing or your test scores are revealing or your miniskirt is too revealing for your History teacher. That being said, a chance to play whatever she wants is a chance to play whatever she wants; she grabs a Blondie record.

“Okay, you’ll love this,” she promises, putting on their debut album. When she returns to her DIY salon setup, he’s nervously tapping his foot against her laundry basket. The sound is quiet but annoying. She doesn’t think he’s aware of what he’s doing.

The nervousness is adorable, so she won’t tell him to quit it.

Her hands fold the smallest bath towel in half and drape it around his neck, as if it were a scarf, to protect his shirt from the clippings. “How was your day?” she asks politely.

“Interesting, I guess,” he murmurs.

“Oh yeah?”

“Mhm. How about you?”

“Pretty boring, up till now.” She rounds the chair to stand in back of him and picks up the bottle of detangler. “Wait, before I start…do you trust me?”

“You do realize my mom cuts my hair, right? And her hands are always shaking ‘cause of coffee and cigarettes? Trust me, I trust you. You’re much more capable.”

“Okay, good,” she giggles. She begins spritzing his head, but the nozzle doesn’t give her much control. It may get his hair too wet. Problem Solving Time. She sprays her hand and tries threading her fingers through his hair to add in the moisture. It’s impossibly soft, it practically feels like a little kid’s. The discovery is so fascinating that she opens her big mouth about it. “Woah, your hair is soft.”

“Uh, thanks?”

“No, sorry, it’s just—softer than I’ve ever felt. I guess I’m so used to my own and mine is thick plus I damage it with heat and hairspray.” She explains this quickly and leaves out the detail that her boyfriend’s hair is also completely dead from product. “I’m jealous, what shampoo do you use?”

“I don’t know? We go through a lot of it, so we get the cheapest.”

She leans down before she can stop herself. Brushes her nose against the part of his hair that’s still dry, breathing him in.

“Well, it smells good, whatever it is.” It's clean and lemony.

Okay, now stop sniffing him. Jesus.

But it is really nice hair. And such a pretty color, too. Looks golden, but brown, but fairly light, but like his eyes, but like honey, but like—

“Thanks…”

She plays in his hair for a bit longer, getting it damp. Touseling, not tangling. Now that she’s touching it, she feels more confident. This will be a breeze. She did a pretty good job on herself, after all.

She swaps out her spray bottle for her comb. “Look down for a sec,” she requests, pressing on his jaw with her index finger. His skin is warm, and he bows his head immediately in response to the touch. She combs down a section of hair at the nape of his neck, then places it between her index and middle finger, sliding down to leave the ends, which she snips carefully with her shears. Yeah, that seems to be a good length. Shorter, but not short.

“I like this song.”

“Hm?”

“This song, it’s not bad, I like it.”

Man overboard

Throw him a line

…

He gave it all for love

“Me too. This is side B. The other side is even better, though.”

They lapse into silence for a little bit as she makes the judicious first cuts. It’s not awkward, just chill. Cozy, like a nice library.

He keeps accidentally straightening his neck, and each time, she gently tips his head back down for him. Otherwise, he stays very still. In practically no time, she’s done evening out the length of the back, so she moves on to the sides. She sticks to her technique, pulling the hair tight and flat between two fingers and then trimming the ends, angling her shears to keep the cuts light-handed.

“I kinda wanna make the sides a little shorter than the back, okay? But I’m gonna leave the top pretty long.”

“Yeah, no, you can do whatever. I don’t…really care.”

She grins. “Is that true?”

“You’re the professional here. You get creative freedom.”

She passes her comb through his hair and snips more. She tries thinning it out by closing the blades of the scissors only partially, letting the hair slip through them. It worked well for her this morning, and it works well now.

The task is therapeutic. She feels sleepy watching his hair fall back into place after being let go of. Like a lazy silken cascade. It’s weird how small things like this have the power to sweeten her mood when other small things drive her crazy. Weird, but not to be complained about. It’s Friday night, she’s got her hands in some Soft Boy Hair, and she’s content. As she finishes up on the opposite side, she steps back to examine the big picture. The left side may be choppier, to some degree, but get real—she can’t make him look too good or she’ll fail English.

When it’s time for the top, she takes her place in front of him. His stare is directed at the carpet.

Like before, she tilts his jaw herself, pushing upward with the pads of her fingers, her thumb resting against the corner of his mouth. Perhaps it’s rude of her, being this touchy with him. But since nothing gets much of a reaction out of him, she wonders what her limits are.

She reins her focus in, though there’s less work to do on these sections. She pulls a piece from the top, holding it at a ninety-degree angle, and cuts illiberally to preserve the length.

It’s surprising that she was able to make this whole thing happen. He’s hard to get a hold of at school and plays defense every time they have a conversation. It was way worse last year, around Christmastime. Then, he was a ghost; she only saw him when he wasn’t there. And he was never there. She imagined it.

She also waited. She waited for him to show himself and stop being an incorporeal chicken. (Yes, a chicken. A scaredy-cat. All synonyms apply.) He didn’t, and she went to Steve because she needed at least one friend. After that happened, she actually saw him more. Then a little more in the summer (but he worked a lot), and now, even with a gun to her head, she couldn’t tell you—she couldn’t tell you if they’re truly friends or if they’re truly not.

So she’s, what, his stylist? His English class partner? His enemy?

His creator? Did she create him? That monster could have bitten his head off in November (monsters must love chicken), and she could have been tripping on trauma this whole time, having visions of him. It’s morbid but—he can’t be real, can he? Who in the real world has the ability to make himself invisible whenever he pleases? And, oh, he pleases.

(The Top Five places in which Jonathan has somehow hidden from her include: at school when there was a mandatory fire drill, at school when there was a mandatory assembly, at her house when there was a New Year’s Eve party which he did attend, at his own workplace when he was working, and finally, at his house when his car was parked in the driveway. She was dropping off a gift from her mom. Fresh chocolate chip cookies. Conveniently, he was showering, or that’s what Joyce said. Who the hell has such bad luck that they happen to be in the shower when there are warm chocolate chip cookies being delivered to them? A very unlucky person.)

If she died, he’d probably hide from her at the funeral, crouching behind her casket.

“Nancy?”

“Yeah?”

“Is Blondie your favorite band of all time, or is there something else?”

“Well, I love Debbie Harry a lot—close your eyes—so they’re definitely up there.” She trims his bangs carefully and lets them fall down over his nose bridge, surely tickling him. “Why? You think they’re not good enough to be my favorite?”

“No, I didn’t say that. I mean, I thought it but—”

“Jonathan! You just said you liked it.”

“The music is kind of…confusing? The lyrics don’t match the sound which doesn’t match her voice which—”

“Stop it, her voice is perfect. Your problem is that you haven’t listened to enough of the music.”

“Is it?”

“Yes,” she confirms, ruffling his bangs to gauge their thinness, “but if I had to choose someone other than her, I would say Stevie Nicks. I love Fleetwood Mac a lot.”

“Yeah, so does everyone.”

“Well I love them a lot more than everyone. Stop trying to insult me when I have scissors in my hand.”

He huffs, crossing his arms.

His haircut comes to an end, but after a quick blow-dry, she informs him that she’s not quite done with him. She wants to style his hair. Only slightly. Nothing dramatic.

He’s getting just a little bit antsy, like maybe he’s sick of being turned away from the mirror. She unscrews the lid off her small jar of leave-in conditioner and smells it, out of habit.

“Oh my God, I love this stuff.” She holds the jar under his nose to let him survey its scent. His brow furrows as he smells and vets it; he’s trying to connect it to a memory.

She uses it every day. Does he take notice of it at school? Me, that’s what it reminds you of. It smells like me. Tell me you like it.

“I like it,” the mind reader says, “it’s strong, though.”

Is he okay with that? Something that comes on a little strong? Strong personality, bossiness, competitive edge, ability to scare boys off…does he like those things?

“Peppermint oil,” she replies, “it helps your hair grow.”

She steps forward. Freezes in front of him while she contemplates. After a beat, she begins transferring the product from hand to head. She’s addicted to it now—playing with his hair. As she runs her fingers through it, short nails softly scraping his scalp, it feels smooth, like lukewarm water flowing over her skin. It looks so good already, different but not too different, as she pushes it around, shaping it how she wants. It’s cooperative with her as she strokes his bangs, pushing them off his forehead some. Giving them lift.

There, just like that. He looks handsome.

“Why do I feel like you’re taking this too seriously?”

She smiles, hands still in his hair. “I’m a professional…”

Her motions grow purposeless. She’s not really styling him anymore. Just doesn’t want to stop touching his hair. She slides her hands through the sides, slower than slow-motion, moving downward to smooth down the waves on the back of his neck. He is avoiding eye contact with her, she knows, because she is so close to him.

The silence is louder than it was before.

She shouldn’t stare at him, but that’s exactly what she’s doing now, hands fixed on either side of his neck and practically cradling his face. She tries to count the lashes which obscure his lowered eyes. With her eyes, she draws imaginary lines along the sharp angles of his cheekbones and nose. “You said it yourself that I’m a professional,” she murmurs quietly, spacing out, “and I promise, it looks good.” Her knee nudges itself between his legs, so subtle, and she watches for the quirk of his mouth. Is this the boundary? Is this it? React to me now. React. “It looks,” her thumbs softly massage both sides of his jaw, “super, super good.”

Finally, he swallows hard and dares to look up at her. Her heart is pounding, muffling the vinyl, and though she needs to look away from him, she can’t. A surge of affection comes and capsizes her center of gravity.

She’d be safer leaning over the edge of a precipice, about to fall headfirst into a pit of jagged rocks.

Their completely inappropriate eye-contact—completely inappropriate for stylist and client, for English project partner and partner, for enemy and enemy, for creator and creation—lasts for five more seconds, then…

A chorus of tween screams in the basement deafens her, echoing through the whole house. They both startle. The second her hands are back at her sides, she feels more sober. More in control of herself.

Apparently, the boys are really bad at anticipating jumpscares in horror movies.

“Jesus,” she whispers, moving round the chair, “they’re so loud.”

“Y-yeah…” He sounds terrified.

“Um, I-I’m gonna get these towels up, then you can see if you like it.”

See? Fever dream. And not a real person. What was he gonna do, just look up at her like a deer in the headlights forever while she undressed him with her eyes and massaged the hinges of his jaw? If she had given in, if she had kissed him, would he have even moved? Or was he just gonna sit there with his pretty hair and sharp cheekbones and let her get away with everything…

She ignores her racing heart and carefully folds up the towels on the floor, making sure to keep the hair clippings on the inside. She removes the towel from his shoulders, rolling it up to place on her desk. She would dust off his shirt, but she’s done touching him. “Okay, you can go look.”

As she stacks the other towels and lines up her tools in a neat row, he approaches the mirror. “Oh, okay, so you actually did good—”

“Jonathan!”

So we’re just gonna pretend we didn’t have a…moment?

“I couldn’t see what you were doing! You could have been trying to make me blonde, for all I knew.”

“First of all,” she joins him in front of the mirror, “you’re not that far from being blonde. And come on, I did great! I cut my hair perfectly, I cut your hair perfectly, I’m a professional now, so say ��thank you.’”

He blushes. “Thank you.”

She studies their reflections. They’ve changed so much in a year. They look good together.

Tired, yes, but good together.

“Let me go put these in the wash, and I’m gonna tell Mike not to scream so loud. Hey, do you wanna watch something? In the living room? My parents won’t be home for another hour, we can be alone downstairs.”

He hugs himself tightly, probably waiting for his invisibility cloak to fly in through the window and save him. She can almost hear the excuse before he says anything. “Um, I can’t, I’m sorry.”

“Oh.”

“My mom’s getting off work right now, so I should really go make dinner for her.”

“Right, well that’s…that’s nice of you.”

“I mean, if I don’t, she may not eat, so…”

“Maybe you should tell her new boyfriend he needs to take her out to dinner more.”

She’s smiling, but Jonathan bristles at the mention of the guy. “Sure,” he mutters.

They say their goodbyes, and soon, she’s right back in her bed. Knees to her chest, pillow in her arms, and on the verge of crying. It was stupid of her: chopping off her hair today. She thought it meant everything, she thought it signified an internal change, but it didn’t. It was a faulty coping mechanism that followed bullshit logic.

She likes her hair like this, and she feels pretty with it, but when is she ever going to learn that self-medicating her PTSD with bullshit is only making her more depressed? She let her best friend die, and she has to do something about it soon. Bleaching her hair won’t make things better, buying tighter clothes won’t make things better, and kissing Jonathan? Extremely enticing—more enticing than a glass of water is in the middle of the desert—but it won’t make things better. Not right now. Not yet.

Doing anything besides helping the Holland family gain closure is self-sabotage.

And on Monday morning, when she catches Ashley from her English class undressing Jonathan with her eyes, she realizes that giving him a haircut was self-sabotage, too...

#*fic #jancy fic #jancy #jonathan byers x nancy wheeler #otp #stranger things fic #fanfiction #ao3 #steve harrington #jonathan byers #nancy wheeler #character study #stranger things season 2 #st2 #stranger things #i cannot and will not write about s4 rn so take this instead

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