#thread the needle chapter 10

[the-kr8tor]

Parallel Cut

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Word count: 4.3k

Tags: no use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader (Hobie is taller than r though) , TW violence, CW injury, CW food mention, suggestive content.

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Thread the Needle Masterlist

CHAPTER 10 >>> EPILOGUE

You walk through aunt Janet's shop, eyes adjusting to the lights. The smell of the store wafts through your senses, the old carpet smell, rows and rows of fabric displayed on the shelves smelling of chemicals and dye. There's a faint smell of leather lingering in the air, reminding you of Hobie. Trainers squeak briefly on the floor, waking you up from your zombie like trance.

When did you even get here?

Your mind has been noisy since yesterday, you've mostly been on autopilot, muscle memory guiding you to your destination. Rubbing your tired eyes, barely sleeping last night, you had the urge to knock on Hobie's door to help soothe your screaming head. You feel a throbbing pain behind your eyes, temple aching in a stabbing headache.

You make your way towards the register, finding it empty, you ring the call bell.

"I'll be there in a second" Janet's voice answers. You have no energy to reply back.

Bouncing on the balls of your feet, fingers fiddling with your ring, its red beady eyes glaring at you, you turn it around so that it faces your palm. Clutching your hand into a tight fist, you're sure it leaves a spider shaped indent on your soft skin.

You already know you're not gonna take the offer so why are you feeling this way? Is it because you're afraid of telling Hobie? If you did, what would be his reaction to it? Whatever it is, you won't accept the job. You only have one Hobie, there'll always be another job, right?

Exhaling, you scratch off a bit of your nail polish, it falls on the floor like snowflakes. Janet finally makes an appearance, cane thumping against carpet, face lighting up when she sees you.

"And here I thought you wouldn't pick up your order" she chuckles, eyes staying on your leather jacket. "Nice jacket, wonder whose that is?" Janet gives you a teasing look, eyebrow raising knowingly.

Giving her a shy smile, you bite your lip. "He made the move– well it was a team effort for the both of us" chuckling, your eyes twinkle when talking about him.

Janet claps her hand, you jump slightly at the cracking sound. For an old woman she could clap really loud. She grins widely at you, smile lines prominent.

"Oh my days! Finally!" She clutches her pearls, "oh so proud of you, sweetheart. Tell me, How'd it go? Only if you're comfortable of course"

"Well he made this really dramatic entrance at the show, running late of course" Janet hangs on to every word, eyes flickering to your tired ones. "After he walked on the runway he just upped and kissed me" you say still in disbelief, happy that you've finally told someone else in person.

Telling Yuri and the others on the phone wasn't as satisfying as you thought it would be. Still, their happy screeches and between 'told you so's'– It left a very giddy look on your face while Hobie rolls his eyes at Yuri telling James he owes her money. Ned was yelling the entire time, chanting 'I did that!' On the speaker, so loud in fact you thought he was gonna break it.

You didn't even mean to tell them at first, but when you answered the phone, Hobie's phone at three am, voice hoarse, sleep still in your eyes with Hobie tangled around your body, telling you in his sleep deprived voice to drop the call, it's safe to say your eardrums almost burst out with (a very drunk) Ned's surprised screech followed by (an equally drunk) Yuri and James. There goes keeping it a secret for a while till you two get the hang of things.

Despite that, your past thoughts linger in the back of your head, hammering loudly, threatening to break down your defensive walls.

"But you don't look too happy" Janet pipes up after your retelling. She looks concerned, lips turning into a thin line. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong, I'm really happy" Voice quiet, surprised that she saw through the cracks. You're really happy but the offer has your very being torn in half. Occupying your thoughts, eating you inside.

"Honey, I have five children and eleven grandkids, trust me I can tell." She sighs, eyes softening. "You don't have to tell me, but if that boy did something–"

Shaking your head, you're prepared to defend Hobie with your life. "It's not him." With a wobbly breath, you ask her for advice. "Did you ever have to leave someone you love because it'll be better in the long run?"

"Depends, better for whom exactly?" She turns around, grabbing your order from the shelf behind her. "And why would it be better for them?" Bringing the rolls of fabric on the counter with a thump.

"Nevermind, it's nothing" you retract your previous words. Palm aching from how hard you're clenching your fists, giving her a tight lipped smile.

Janet nods, genuine concern on her face. "I don't want to push you, but if you still want my advice just ask." She rings up your purchase.

"Thank you" paying for the fabric, you walk away from the cashier. An idea pops up wherein you don't have to directly ask, because if you did, it would make it real.

"A friend of mine was offered a job" biting your lip, you're technically not lying to her since your classmate Hannah got offered the same thing as you.

Walking back to the counter, Janet listens intently. "And uh, she's worrying about leaving her friends because the job requires her to move away," you pause for a brief second. "Really far away. And she hasn't told them"

"Give your friend my congratulations then." She smiles at you, "Was it a good offer at least?"

"Yeah, they gave m–her a lot to consider. It's a great opportunity for her," with all the numerous visits at her shop, you've grown to trust Aunt Janet with her wisdom in life, not to mention you're quite similar to each other. You value her opinion.

"But she's anxious because she wants to stay with her friend?" You nod at her question, knowing exactly what she's implying. "Well, ask her what was her initial reaction to the news, that usually gives a lot of information on what she truly feels" remembering your excitement and happy first reaction, you try to cover it up in your mind.

"She really doesn't want to leave him behind" your eyes start watering at the thought.

"Does she love him?"

"A lot, she loves him so much it hurts sometimes." You inhale at the confession, feeling guilty that you're dumping it all on Janet.

She takes your clenched hand that's been shaking on the counter, unclenching it, your nails leave half moon indents on your palms.

"Just talk to him, tell him. He'll help her figure it out, better than this old woman can" Janet squeezes your hand. You nod, taking her advice.

"Thank you, I'll tell her that" smiling at aunt Janet, you blink away the tears pooling in your watery eyes.

"Do you want to have a cup of tea? My daughter just sent me a batch from India. I think you'll like it." Janet asks, determined to help ease your mind off of things.

"Okay, sure" accepting, she leads you behind the counter into the back of the store.

—

You wave to Janet goodbye, stomach full of tea and biscuits. Opening the door, you stop in your tracks.

Hobie leans on his bike, grinning widely as he sees you come out of the store. He gives you a look that sweeps you off your feet, feeling like you're back in school having a crush on your best friend. Your heart sings in his presence, a giddy smile on your lips, practically skipping over to him.

"Hi, what are you doing here?" Your smile turns into a frown when you spot a cut on his lip. "Holy shit! What happened? Who did this to you?" Anger settles in your chest. Hands carefully cupping his jaw, scanning for more injuries. You grit your teeth, winching at the thought of him getting hurt.

"It's nothing I can't handle, you should've seen the tosser who tried to take me on" He holds your wrist, calloused fingertips massaging the tensed muscle.

"Are you okay? Any pain?"

"I'm fine, I can barely feel it now" it's how he finds out about his enhanced healing, thanks to the ability, he healed it in no time. The injury looked much worse before coming to you. Still, he savors you doting on him, "Gromit, I'm fine, yeah? Don't worry"

You let out a breath you didn't notice you were holding. Hand sliding down to his neck, fingers fiddling with his necklace. "Are you sure? Let's just go home for today, then you can tell me who I need to beat up" pulling back, your eyebrows knitted together.

"Nah, c'mon. I feel better now that you're here" Hobie pats the seat of the motorcycle. Noticing that you haven't moved, he tilts his head, giving you his most convincing smile. "Gromit, love, cherry" He calls every nickname you have until there's a shy smile on your lips, he even calls your most embarrassing childhood nicknames, "little worm, pebbles, guppy" you hide behind your hand.

"Okay, enough" you laugh, embarrassed at the names, especially that you're on a semi busy street. Taking your hands away from your face to cup Hobie's mouth. He smiles underneath it.

"There she is" Hobie brings you closer, pulling you by the sleeve of his jacket.

"I hate you" you grin through it, eyes flicking down to his lips, worried that you might exacerbate his injury if you kiss him right there and then.

He chuckles deeply, "You love me though" Hobie shuts down your apprehensiveness, lips a breath away from yours.

Sighing, you act exasperated but your love struck smile betrays you. "Unfortunately, I do" you quip back, words stitched with fondness. Closing your eyes, he guides you into the kiss. Hands flying to the back of his neck, deepening it further.

The nagging feeling stays, whispering and taunting. You push it far back in your mind, it gnaws and claws, begging to be let out.

—

You whistle out at the breathtaking view in front of you, clutching the bag of fish and chips in your arms, Hobie helps you take off your helmet. The cliff overlooks the city's landscape, sunset turning everything around you in an orange glow. To your right is a dozen or so picnic tables, moss clings to the wood, still it stands tall. Behind is the woods, thick enough to get lost in, curved oak and pine looming like giants. Birds chirp in the background adding to the calm scenery.

"Do you take all your women here?" You ask teasingly half seriously.

"Only the ones I've pined for since childhood" he joins your side, shoving you with his hip lightly. Hobie takes the bag from your arm in exchange for his hand. Intertwining his fingers with yours as heat rises to your cold cheeks.

You and Hobie are the only ones in the place, save for a few birds and critters hanging around. Cold air nips at your neck, the sun making it warm enough to enjoy the weather.

Hand in hand, he guides you towards one of the tables. Sitting down, you inhale the fresh air. Hobie gives you your share of chips, you smile at him appreciatively.

"So, who do I have to beat up?" You ask, cracking your knuckles for added effect.

Hobie chortles, "hell, I'll even help you"

"What happened anyway?"

He sighs, frustrated. "We got blocked, they knocked down one of us for no reason. Things escalated" Hobie saves you from the violence. "Fuckin' Wilson Fisk still sits pretty up in his ivory tower" his frustration barks back. "Sorry" He exhales, unclenching his fists.

"Don't be, I should've been there. I'm the one who should be sorry" You take his hand, squeezing it three times.

"If you were there, you could've gotten hurt. Don't think I can handle that" The thought of you almost getting trampled back in the pit still weighs heavy in his mind. He brings your knuckles to his lips, pressing a quick yet affectionate kiss over your skin. "Everyone's fairly okay, we got out early. We'll try again though"

"I'll be there next time, are you sure it's not hurting anymore? Once we get back home, I'll put some betadine over it" the thought of you on his lap, cooing and cleaning his wounds fills him with affection.

"I'm sure, love" Hobie exhales. "Let's eat, it's starting to get cold" you nod, still concerned for him. Hobie watches your eyes roam around the greenery. "D'you seriously not remember this place?" Sitting next to you, he sips at his drink, avoiding his cut lip.

"Why? have we been here before?"

"Yeah, school field trip. Our classes had the same schedule. This is where we ate lunch, remember now?"

"Oh, shit!" Recognition flashes on your face. "Where we got left behind by the bus!"

"Mm-hmm" He points at you with a mouthful of chips.

"We got left behind because you were too busy snogging what's her face behind a tree to remember the call time"

"No, I wasn't," he shakes his head. "You gotta get your memory checked, love"

"Nuh-uh, I remember it because it was what everyone was talking about"

"We got left behind by the bus because I was lookin' for you" his face turning serious.

"What?"

"I never snogged anyone here" he scoffs, "wankers were stirring up rumours 'bout me again." Hobie scoots closer to you, "I got back to the bus after going to the toilets. I watched your bus get filled up but I never saw you get on. So I came back out to look for you"

You nod, trying to recollect the memory.

He walks you back to that day. "I looked around, asked your classmates. No one saw you. I was starting to panic, thinkin' you got lost in the woods, tempted by a ghoul or somethin'" you snort at his joke. "Found you ten minutes later, crouched on the grass, drawing a fucking flower"

You hide your face in embarrassment, remembering exactly why you hid there. Memory brings you back to that day.

Hobie finally finds you, he feels like he can breathe again. Sitting quietly next to you, his eyes linger on the side of your face. Clutching your sketchbook and pencil in a tight knuckle grip.

You sat there in silence until you forgave yourself for loving him.

"Oh fuck" voice muffled by your hands. "We were stuck here for like three fucking hours because I was such a dramatic bitch!"

"Well, it was a pretty flower" he tries to make you feel better.

"That was not my best moment" you chuckle, "I remember running there because I heard about you kissing someone. Guess I've got a penchant for running away huh?"

"No matter, I'll keep trying to find you whenever you do," you smile sweetly at his words. "Or just catch you before you do"

"You're implying that there's going to be something for me to run away from" you joke, Hobie goes with your bit.

"I don't think there's any more crude rumours of me out there. Think you're good, love." You shake your head with a playful roll of your eyes, cleaning a crumb off his cheek. Hobie gives you a peck on your finger tip as a thank you.

A comfortable silence blankets you both, your mind takes the quiet to its advantage, it goes back to Janet's advice. Mrs. Williams' words echo around you, layered on top of Riley's offer. Heart beating fast, the plastic spoon snaps in half as you grip it too tightly.

Hobie's head turns towards the crunching sound, "you alright? Let me see, you might have splinters"

"I'm okay, just flimsy plastic"

"Here, you can share mine."

"Thanks"

Silence permeates the air once again.

"I need to tell you something" you and Hobie say at the same time.

"Age before beauty" He pokes your side with a chuckle.

You bite your lip, gaze lingering somewhere other than his face. Eyes moving at the gaps of sunlight on the trees. Maybe you shouldn't tell him, you're gonna stay with him anyway, what's the point? You find It painfully difficult.

Because if you did tell him, it would all feel sickenly real. A gut feeling fluttering restlessly, mind predicting the outcome of the conversation.

Hobie notices your apprehensiveness, he calls your name tenderly. Encouraging you to speak your mind.

"Do you remember that bloke back at the fashion show?" Bravery taking over with a shaky voice.

Humming in understanding, Hobie moves his leg over the bench, straddling it to look at you fully.

You fake a smile through it, "well he offered me a job"

"Bloody good on you, love!" He pats your arm, hand staying on it. "Well deserved!"

You smile bashfully at his reaction. "Thanks, but I'm not gonna take it" you bravely look at him, focusing on the slow knit of his brows.

"Why not? 's a good opportunity" his hand slides down your arm, landing on your thigh, unmoving, tethering you to him.

"It's just that– they want me to move to the US for it." Sighing, "so, I'm not taking it" you watch as Hobie's smile fades, the cogs in his head moving rapidly, jaw clenching, wrapping his mind to what you just said.

"Sorry, what was it you're gonna say?" Trying to change the topic, Hobie takes your hand in his.

Heart lodged in his throat, Hobie stays quiet for a minute, for you it seemed like forever. The only sounds are the leaves blowing in the cool air, birds happily chirping as if they're mocking you. Faint traffic beeps from below, it might as well be right next to you with how deafening the silence is. The food you ate sits weirdly in your stomach. You try to even out your breathing as Hobie finally opens his mouth to speak.

"I fell for you right here, did you know that?" He squeezes your hand. You did not expect for him to say that, shaking your head, your heart beats a thousand times per minute.

"You gave me a sandwich– made me one, actually" he continues as you listen on. "Because you know I wouldn't bring my own lunch. You cared for me when no one else did. Then you upped and disappeared that day and–" Hobie releases a shuddering breath. "I just panicked. Then that turned into relief when I finally found you."

Stray tears slide down your cheeks. "As I sat down next to you, realizing that I was panicking because I loved you. And was afraid you were already gone without knowing how much loved you were"

A sob breaks through when you see his watery eyes, something you would've never thought of ever seeing from the strongest person you know and love.

"Hobie–"

"Take it, take the offer" he says woefully.

You shake your head like a child throwing a tantrum. "No, I'm not leaving you," your voice breaking. "I can't"

"You've wanted this since–before you've even met me." Hobie chuckles humorlessly. "I don't want to hold you back" softly, he cups your face in both hands, afraid of what he'll do next. "Do you want it? I won't hold it against you, I want you to fulfill your dreams" even if I'm not a part of it.

You nod your head slowly, answering his question, soft hands holding his trembling ones tightly. "Please, just say the words and I'll stay." You sniff, acting brave. "Please say it!" Balling his shirt in your fists. You hope, wish that he changes his mind. That he would tell you to stay with him. But you know him better, Hobie's a lot of things, selfish isn't one of them.

He stares at your glimmering eyes, watching his own face contort into sorrow. Killing the part of him that wants you to stay.

"You need to go" sobs wracked your body when he utters the words. The ground would've swallowed you whole if not for his hold on you. But it'll be okay if it did as long as you fall with him.

It's love in its most painful form.

His heart breaks for what he's about to do. Hobie takes out his favour card from his pocket, punching out all the remaining logos. You can barely see through your tears while he does it, the card looks bare in his hands. Small circles of logos taken by a gust of wind. He calls your name softly with no malice or resentment in his voice.

Nothing remains on the piece of paper.

You want him to scream and curse at you, make him feel something else instead of sadness. Instead, Hobie hugs you through it, shoulders shaking, hands wrapped around you protectively. Your hands cling to his vest like it's your lifeline.

You hate that you broke his heart after filling it with love.

In between weeping, you mumble 'sorries' love overflowing for each other, cups filling to the bream.

"I'm sorry," you look at him through the tears, cheek on his broad chest, he shakes his head, rocking you slightly in his arms. You feel his racing heartbeat.

"Do you regret this?" Us? You ask tentatively, sniffling. You don't want him to resent you for stringing him along just to leave him right after.

"No, never. I'll do it all over again if I have to.'' He doesn't regret loving you or even confessing, the only thing he grieves over is that it took him too long to do so, he would've had more time with you.

He resents himself.

"I'll wait for you" he blurts out through the tears.

"Please, don't. You don't have to"

"I've waited for you for as long as I could remember and I'll wait for decades more if I have to." He wipes your cheeks, you savour him with every touch. Hobie asks the dreaded question, "when are you leaving?" Whispering it to you so that the world doesn't know. Just you and him on that park bench, bodies in a tight embrace, love pouring out from every pore.

"In two months" you answer with a frown, tears still flowing freely.

"It'll be the best two months of your life then" he captures your lips in a solemn kiss, memorizing every detail, engraving it into his brain.

—

Hobie kept his promise, those two months were the best you've ever had. You and Hobie did everything you've ever wanted together. Moved in with him on that houseboat you've briefly called your home.

Bodies joined together on his sheets you've mended, love and laughter lit up the entire house. With every caress and whispered confessions sends you two reeling over the edge.

Still, your parting looms over your heads. Tears wiped away as soon as they started, reminding you that you won't be truly apart when your very souls have been intertwined since the beginning.

With tearful eyes and sad smiles you part with the love of your life. Promises of late night calls and hand written letters falling on both your lips. Kisses lingering, touch fading as you fly off to your new life.

Hobie takes your photo with him on every patrol, tucked safely inside his leather vest, fingers gliding over the seams you've stitched together.

You look at the polaroid of you and Hobie before bed as you end your call with him, his voice anchoring you. Looking at the moon on your small window brings you comfort that the same one watches over him.

He wakes up alone, sun beaming down on his face, smiling fondly, the thought of the same sun bearing down on you fills the hole in his heart. Reminders of you stays in his home, *your home. Throw pillows on his lumpy couch, your slippers in the bathroom, mug sitting next to his. He leaves it where you last put them, waiting for you.

You endure.

Slowly but surely you grow accustomed to your new life, getting used to the empty space beside you. You meet like minded friends, they help you get out of your shell.

You find yourself, the same one you've lost years ago.

Both of you try to make time for each other even with the time difference and busy schedules. You write letters sprayed with your perfume, a piece of fabric from your newest design is taped inside, words filled with adoration and content. Hobie replies immediately back, with blood stained knuckles he writes quickly. He leaves a dried flower inside the envelope, his letters always ending with the same three words.

After a rough battle, Hobie finds himself recruited to some society full of people with abilities like him. He doesn't seem so lonely anymore. A heavy weight lifted off his shoulders.

You see Spider-Man on TV one day, smiling as the reporter tells the audience that Wilson Fisk is finally out of power thanks to the spandex and leather clad hero. Even with the grainy footage, you recognize Spider-Man's vest.

You dream of each other, dreams getting blurry every night until it's foggy and muddy, turning into a dreamless sleep.

Hobie sees your familiar face, a version of you at least, he doesn't run to her or talk, just watches with a faint smile on his lips. Glad that you're happy in every dimension. He harbours no sadness or even guilt, just love. He'd always miss you but his happiness for you would always win over the emotion.

With each sunrise he wakes up to, satisfaction flowing through him, knowing he chose well. One day he looks next to him without sadness blooming in his chest, just a fond smile under his mask.

He's proud of you and you're proud of him. Sometimes that's enough.

Your love for each other never waned, it stood dormant in your hearts, waiting and yearning for the day you finally reunite.

Until you thread the needle again.

A/N: AHHH!! IT'S FINALLY DONE! From the bottom of my heart, thank you for reading, and interacting with my lil story! And thank you for sticking around this long ❤️

Until next time, lovelies (⁠*⁠˘⁠︶⁠˘⁠*⁠)⁠.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡

(Please read the epilogue when it comes out ily)

[mysunfreckle]

Sean: Marion, I don't know how you're feeling bleed-wise, but I would say maybe reaching out and sensing is something that, given that we're in- Marion: I know I'm gonna get- I know I'm gonna sense the stuff, I'm not that stupid. Sean: Yeah, but you look stupid, so I- Marion: Hey, yo, no, that's enough. No, no, no, no, no. I looked stupid as a kid, but then I grew out of that. Jean: He's very handsome. Marion: And I look- thank you... Sean: I didn't say he wasn't handsome. I just said the guy- Marion: You know what? You know what I hate about you giving me shit? Sean: What's that? Marion: Nothing <3

[ladykailitha]

The Harrington Pattern Part 13

This is it guys, the chapter of this fic. I have had an absolute blast writing and even more so reading all the comments and tags.

This last chapter is dedicated to all those who wanted the moms to bring Steve into their fold. This was also chance for Steve to rip on the haters without fear of his parents ire.

Thank you so much for all the love and support for this little story.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12

****

Claudia was waiting at the Byers’ front door when Eddie pulled up in his van and Steve hopped out.

“Eddie!” she cried happily. “I didn’t know you were coming!”

“Hey, Mrs. H,” Eddie said with a wave. “I’m just dropping Stevie off. We’re hanging out later.”

“That was sweet of you, dear,” Claudia cooed.

Steve in the meantime was pulling things out of the backseat of the van. Eddie looked over at him.

“You need help, darlin’?” he asked over his shoulder.

Steve shook his head. “I’ve got it. Thank you, though.” In lower voice he muttered, “I love you and I’ll see you later.”

Eddie gave Steve’s forearm a squeeze and then waved at Claudia. He backed out of the driveway and was soon gone from sight.

“We’ve got all sorts of surprises for you today, Steve,” she said gleefully clapping her hands together.”

Steve grinned at her. “Mrs. Peterson here yet?”

Claudia shook her head. “She’s always at least fifteen minutes late. Something we were banking on actually.”

Steve cocked his head to the side. “What do you mean?”

But Claudia just ushered him inside. He set his stuff down and then handed her a tray.

“I made blondies,” he said, “I hope you ladies like them.”

She peeled back the foil and gasped. “Steve they look amazing!”

Joyce came out of the kitchen wiping her hands. “What looks amazing?” she asked peering over Claudia’s shoulder. She, too, gasped when she saw them. “Steve, you didn’t!”

Steve grinned. “Your sons always eat the ones I send home with them before they even get home, so I figured you’d appreciate these.”

She kissed his cheek. “You are a dear.”

Claudia laid them out on table next to all the other treats.

On the coffee table were a bunch of things under a large sheet with clowns on it.

“The three of us,” Karen began, “wanted to do something extra special for you after hearing what fun our children had at the Fair because you made sure they did. So we each contributed something toward your love of sewing.”

She lifted the sheet. Underneath was a beautiful sewing kit in navy blue, a light green Singer sewing machine that looked older than he was, and a stack of old patterns.

Steve’s lip wobbled as he raised his hand to his mouth in shock.

“You didn’t have to do this, ladies,” he whispered.

“The sewing kit is from me,” Karen continued. “It’s a beginner’s kit, but it has fabric scissors, a seam ripper, bobbins for your thread and different kinds of needles.”

Steve sat down and pulled it onto his lap. He opened it and as he lifted the lid, the top tray pulled back revealing the tray beneath. “Thank you.”

“The sewing machine,” Claudia said proudly, “is the first one I ever owned. When I got married I got a new one and I’ve been using that ever since. But this ol’ girl has a lot of love and life left in her, and I want you to have her.”

Steve looked up at her, tears forming in his eyes. “Aren’t you worried that I’ll break it? Or that my parents will find it and destroy it?”

Claudia knelt in front of him. “It’s gonna be kept at my house until you get a place of your own. You’re there all the time to see Dusty anyway, no one is going to notice that you’re there to sew now, too.”

“Plus,” Joyce said with a grin. “It’s a Singer. They’re a little hard to break. They’re one of the best machines and it will probably outlast your children. So don’t worry about it, okay?”

Steve nodded, his lip quivering. Claudia kissed his forehead and stood back up.

“The patterns are from me,” Joyce said. “Whenever I would have a little extra money I would pick up a pattern or two at the drug store and bring it home. I picked a handful that I thought you’d like since you’re primarily making costumes. And if those work for you, next week I’ll bring another handful you might like.”

Tears started flowing down his cheeks. “Thank you. All of you. This is best gift I’ve ever gotten.”

“Oh honey,” Joyce said softly and suddenly Steve was being hugged on all sides by the moms.

They stayed like that until there was a knock on the door.

“That must be Olive,” Claudia said with a sigh. “I bet she brought those brownies that are totally store bought even though she insists it her grandmother’s recipe.”

Steve snickered. “My mom used to do that. I don’t think she fooled anyone either.”

Joyce grinned over her shoulder as she went to go answer the door. “Olive, dear! We were just getting started.”

“Oh?” the bright voice on the other side of the door cooed. “You’re usually in the full swing of things by now.”

Steve bristled. That meant she knew she was late and was doing it intentionally. He hated people like that. Acting like the rest of them were peasants meant to be waiting on her.

“Steve was just showing us the costumes he made for the kids for the Fair over the weekend,” Karen said sweetly as Steve hurried to get the things he brought to show off out.

Olive stepped into the house with a sneer. “I think it’s so sweet you’re indulging the boy, but I doubt he can hold a candle to Claudia’s years of experience.”

Wow, Steve thought. Not only did she insult him, but she insinuated Claudia was old. What was with this old bag?

Claudia smirked. “It’s true that I’ve been doing it for longer, but Steve has a real talent for it. Come see.”

Olive walked into the front room and Steve was struck by how much she reminded him of his mother. She had perfectly curled hair with not a single strand out of place. Her clothes were fitted and showed off her figure. Her makeup was flawless.

In short, Steve hated her on sight.

Joyce handed her the shirt he had made for underneath his tunic. It was flawless but understated.

Olive took the shirt and scoffed. “You couldn’t have done this, Harrington, you shouldn’t lie to your betters.”

Steve was already seeing red. “I guess I’ll just have to prove it to you then.”

Joyce clapped her hands together. “All right, let’s get started. Steve, you can eat as much as you want, but just make sure to keep it away from other people’s projects.”

Steve smiled at her sweetly. “Of course!”

He knew that what she was really saying was that Olive Peterson might try something.

He sat in the armchair away from her and she glared at him.

“Is it all right if I work on my project first before you teach me how to use the sewing machine?” he asked just as she was taking a drink of punch.

Olive was forced to turn away and cough into her hand to avoid spraying everyone with the lemonade that Claudia had made.

Karen’s smile was feral. “I don’t see why that would be a problem, right, Claudia?”

“Of course not, Steve,” she replied warmly. “Just let me know when you want to learn and I’ll come over and help you.”

Steve nodded. He pulled out the materials that Eddie suggested he bring and got to work.

Eddie really liked that Steve’s bags had a lining because it protected the dice better, so Steve had brought along some materials he could use for that as well.

About halfway through his first bag, Joyce called out.

“Steve? What’s that pattern you’re putting on the bag?”

Steve’s eyes lit up. “It’s my signature! I embroider it on everything I do to make sure people can’t pass it off as their own.” He handed the bag over to her.

“Oh!” she cried in excitement. “This is the design you put on Will and El’s costumes when you did their alterations, right?”

Steve nodded. “I hope you don’t mind. I know you made the clothes, but I thought it was a cute way to tie the two together like they were twins.”

“It was perfect,” Joyce said. “El still hasn’t stopped talking about how pretty your design made the dress.”

Steve blushed as he took the pouch back from her.

“I was talking to someone at the Renaissance Fair,” he said shyly, “and she wanted me make them clothes and things that she would sell for me. She even told me to make business cards in case someone wanted to commission me directly.”

“Oh Steve!” Karen cried. “That’s wonderful!” She clapped her hands together and tilted her head. “I have to admit I’m a little jealous. That pattern is beautiful. I would love a handkerchief with that on it.”

Steve straightened up. “Yeah?”

Karen nodded.

“What color would you like?” he asked excitedly.

Karen tried to protest but he wouldn’t let her. In fact he managed to convince all but Olive to let him make them one for them.

It did, unfortunately take him to the end of the two hours, but he was excited to come next week.

“I’ll even host it at my place!” he said with a grin.

Olive sputtered. “Well I won’t be there if it’s at this young man’s house. That’s so inappropriate.”

The three other ladies looked at each other and then shrugged.

“Your loss,” Karen said dryly.

Olive stormed out of the house vowing that as long as Steve was part of the group she would never come back.

“Well that is a relief,” Joyce said, “I’m not the kind to speak ill of anyone, but we really got quite the upgrade!”

Karen clapped her hands. “Indeed. I can’t wait for next week. I’ve got a new project I’m starting and I found the best recipe for a chocolate mousse that I’ve been dying to try out.”

“Same time next week, ladies?” Steve asked.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Claudia agreed.

Then there came a loud honk.

Steve looked out the window and smiled. “Looks like my ride is here.”

He gather up his stuff, including the patterns and sewing kit and walked out to Eddie’s van.

He slid into the front seat.

“You have fun today, sweetheart?” Eddie asked, pulling out of the driveway.

“Yeah,” Steve said looking fondly at the house. “This has been the best weekend ever.”

Eddie grinned. “Well, it’s about to get even better, just wait to you see what I have planned for us today.”

Steve smiled as Eddie regaled him with his plans and nodded along.

Life was really looking up. He had a platonic soulmate, good friends, an amazing boyfriend, a hobby he enjoyed and could make real money from, and now a group of people to share that hobby with each week.

And to think it all started with a flier about the Renaissance Fair coming back to Hawkins.

“I can’t wait,” he breathed once Eddie was done.

Eddie smiled that sweet smile at always turned Steve’s insides to mush.

Yeah, Steve could honestly say that he was happy.

****

Tag List: @mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @emly03

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@dauntlessdiva @vampire-eddie-brain-rot @lololol-1234 @nightmareglitter @cryptid-system

[poppy-s-rampage]

Once a Hero.

Chapter 1: Too late!

Warnings: Blood, Gore and violence. You can't sue me now!

‐-------------------------

Prologue| Masterpost| Chapter 2!

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

The Master of time leaned over the unmoving form of his young protegee, forceps needle and thread in hands. The old ghost deftly redid the stitches on the youngest torso. Slowly but surely closing the jagged ‘Y’ shaped wound shut.

‘How did it come to this?’

All it took was one minute of inattention for the young Halfa's timeline to be put in jeopardy. In a single moment of inattention, Daniel’s timeline tangled with another stray unstable one and merged. By the time Clockwork noticed, the timelines were already fused to the point of no return. Reality wrapped to fit the new Frankenstein series of events. So he did what he could, snip at some parts, and twist at others to make it so his protegee could have a chance of survival and still having a goodish timeline.

The gaping wound now finally shut, the old ghost went to treat the boy’s muzzle cuts and throat. The apparatus, when destroyed by the wail, had split open the right cheek’s flesh from the corner of the Halfas mouth, carving a morbid half smile. The boy’s tongue was bloody but could still be salvaged with diluted ectoplasm. The real problem was the throat; it was impossible to currently heal to a usable level with the concentration of ectoplasm he could safely use on Danny.

He was no Frostbite, but he was more than capable of putting back together the young ghost in a Time out. Daniel was too unstable to stay in the infinite realms, his core still too raw for pure Ecto. It would be like feeding a 10-year comatose patient a buffet after being kept alive via IV, transfer the concept to a fragilized and forcefully balanced core, and you get the idea.  It was also a way to better realize the consequences of his mistake. But not to apologize, nothing would ever be enough to fix what Daniel had endured.

Clockwork stopped believing in apologies an eternity ago.

It all had happened so fast, Phantom had no chance of changing the course of events. Ironically, the current timeline was the best possible outcome after the incident.

While his protegee’s original timeline’s parents would have been accepting of his heritage, the ones of the intruding unstable timeline were not. ‘Monsters’ would have been too kind of a word to describe them. Curiosity plagued individuals who could have given Dan a run for his money. The origin of a world’s collapse, the cause of too many deaths, terrifying geniuses with an unquenchable thirst for knowledge and slaves of their obsessions. Even their children didn’t hold enough value for them to spare.

Thankfully, this world didn’t come to that and was still salvageable. Unfortunately, too many people have already lost their lives and existence to his mistake.

It had been like any tranquil day in young Daniel's life. He woke up groggy after a night of patrolling, went to school, hung out with his friends, patrolled a bit, saved a few weaker ghosts, stopped a few accidents and then went back home. The young Halfa had planned to finally reveal his identity to his parents- with no little insistence and encouragement from his sister and the reassurance of the previous Freakshow happenings. (He, of course, delayed the moment as much as he could.)

Of course, Clockwork had already watched and analyzed all the possible futures caused by this decision. He had assured Danny that no harm would befall him.

And since every possible happening was in Daniel’s favor, the ghost of time left the timeline out of his watch in favor of fixing yet another mess the Speedster’s had caused.

Seriously, what kind of mentally challenged troglodyte would erase an entire timeline to enjoy a cheap burger in loop instead of buying another!

*Crack*

The forceps broke in his hand. The Ancient summoned another one. Moving to stitch the lacerations on his king’s arms and legs.

It had, sadly, taken a while for the Master of Time to fix the Flash themed issues. It then took him an even longer while to salvage the tangled mess of timelines. He was far too late to save Danny’s loved ones. Humans, even Liminals, were fragile.

—-------------------

The reveal had gone well at first, Jack and Maddie had accepted their son’s new nature. But then the timelines merged, the Fenton parents became one with their alternates and the world was set ablaze.

The youngest Fenton was promptly drugged and knocked out, only to wake up on a dissection table. His parents and a few GIW agents circling him, tools in hand. The hours, maybe days, Daniel spent in these creatures’ grasps were a nightmare made real.

His sister and friends tried to free him, only to be captured and fall victim to the same fate. Amity Park’s younger population mutinied against the agency and scientists but quickly got shut down. Brutally. The city was deemed a lost cause and put on lock down. The elder Fentons and the GIW galvanized by their success, went after every single being standing in their way in the name of science and self-defense.

It was too much for the young Halfa. His every waking moment being haunted by monsters wearing the skin of people he used to know and love. To hear the same people who raised and loved him gloating at the harm they caused his fraid. At the harm they caused him, vindictive. Every ounce of strength Danny had went into figuring out a way to save what he had left. But alas, he was too late.

Everything culminated the moment the agents and his parents reentered the room for the how manyth time. Their make believe faces fixed into a cruel smirk, smiles too wide, eyes too bright and too many teeth. Were the ghosts truly the monsters ?

Black opaque bags were dragged into the room next. A dreadful foreboding feeling caressed his spine. It was different. What were they planning?! What did they do?!

Panic seized the Halfa’s heart, hair standing on end. Eyes wide and pupils dilating as he noticed the strong smell of copper permeating from the bags.  His restrained limbs shaking at the realization of the truth he oh so wanted to deny. 

The monsters kept talking, taunting and accusing him of something. Blaming him. But he didn’t ‘hear’ them over his ever rising dread.

They opened the bags and his world came crashing down.

Three lifeless barely recognizable corpses. Chest opened in a bloody imitation of a butterfly. Missing limbs and organs. An innumerable number of lacerations. All indicators of a painful and slow death. But yet their eyes remained closed into acceptance and welcoming the relief of death.

He wailed.

Despite the muzzle, despite his already severed vocal cords. The wail coming from his very core blasted everything in his surroundings. The muzzle shattered, the monsters vaporized into a red mist and the walls became debris.

The building shook. The creatures in human skin panicked trying desperately to flee the premise but they were too late.

The latest experimental portal meant to be mass produced by the GIW resonated with the Wail and destabilized. The explosion that followed erased the facility and its surroundings and triggered the original Fenton portal which in turn wiped the city above off the maps.

Every single being died. The GIW agents, the Fentons, the citizens and some of the weaker ghosts. The stronger Phantom rogues weren’t even in the range or succeeded in escaping. The Fentons and GIW were still ‘thankfully’ useless when it came to capturing them.

And then there was Phantom.

Unfortunately or fortunately for him.

Forever the exception.

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

Prologue| Masterpost| Chapter 2!

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

Author note:

Hello! Thank you for reading! This time I didn't write this at 3 am!

.

.

.

.

.

I wrote it at 5am! Insomnia says what?

[cyberneticfallout]

Chapter Seven: The GoverMint

Ch 1 - Ch 2 - Ch 3 - Ch 4 - Ch 5 - Ch 6 - Ch 7 - Ch 8 - Ch 9 - Ch 10 - More Coming Soon

Pairing: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Fem!Reader Summary: Two men bring you into custody and some new information comes to light. Tags: Slow burn (and I mean SLOWWW), angst, eventually more smut, language, canon-typical violence, chem/alcohol use, more tags will be added Posted on AO3: Smoothie and The Ghoul Word Count: 2.1k

"What? Never had mornin’ wood before, Smoothie?” The Ghoul snickers as you shake your head in confusion. While yes, it’s a fairly natural thing to occur, you weren’t exactly expecting to see his hard-on first thing.

"Alright, love birds,” the man starts, causing both of you to glare at him. “Destroying a legitimate business? That's illegal 'round these parts.”

You exchange a quick glance with The Ghoul, both of you clearly annoyed by the man calling you ‘love birds’. "First of all, we are not together. And - will you please adjust yourself, Beef Jerky - second of all, this... was a legitimate business? Says who?” you ask, gesturing vaguely around the room as The Ghoul rolls his eyes and slowly covers himself with his hat.

"The government," the man proudly declares before abruptly striking The Ghoul in the face with his rifle.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Let's not get crazy here," you interject, raising your hands in protest, realizing that two against one isn't a smart choice at the moment. Your head is throbbing from the alcohol you drank the night before, leaving you in no condition to fight back.

“Don’t worry, miss. Your husband is okay, but you two gotta face justice,” the man replies. You huff a frustrated sigh at the continued assumption that you two are a couple. Looking the man over, you notice a crudely made sheriff badge with the name Troy etched onto it.

“May I call you Troy?” you ask, pointing to his badge. He gives you a smile, indicating it’s okay. “Now, Troy, this man right here isn’t my husband. We are just traveling companions who happened to come across this already destroyed business.”

Troy sighs, “We ain’t stupid, ma’am. We gotta bring ya both in. Rex!” He shouts at the other man, “Tie ‘em up and we’ll move out once that one wakes back up.”

Shortly after, The Ghoul wakes up and the four of you are on the move towards the supposed government. You keep stealing glances at him, hoping for any sign of a plan, but he remains silent and focused on the path ahead. The restraints around your wrists chafe against your skin, causing irritation. These two men seem dumb as hell but the one sure knows how to use rope.

Finally, the four of you approached a building sporting a sign that proudly proclaims "The GoverMint”. The Ghoul shot you a glance, and you couldn't help but roll your eyes in exasperation. The sight of the misspelled sign only reinforced your growing realization that you were dealing with a bunch of idiots. The building itself appeared run-down and neglected, a stark contrast to the grandeur one might expect from an actual government facility. The paint was peeling, the windows were dirty, and the overall atmosphere exuded an air of disarray. As you were escorted inside by Troy and Rex, you couldn't shake the feeling that this whole situation was more absurd than dangerous.

"Well, shit!" a hefty man exclaims, sitting at a table with a plate of food. "I heard it was a ghoul that messed up that Super Duper Mart. Nobody told me it was the ghoul."

"Why, Sorrel Booker," The Ghoul smirks.

You silently mouth to The Ghoul, "You know this guy?"

"You boys know who you just brought in? This sumbitch right here used to be the best bounty hunter to ever shoot a man in the ass," Sorrel chuckles as the two men usher you to sit in front of him. "Kids these days don’t know their goddamn history."

"Say, you got a needle and thread?” The Ghoul casually asks. “I think I got some in my bag, actually. Would you mind?"

Sorrel hesitates for a moment, eyeing him, but ultimately nods his head. Troy hands over the needle and thread, and The Ghoul's restraints are untied. With a calm demeanor, he picks up a perfectly cut finger and begins sewing it onto his missing one. You can't help but watch in disbelief, your mouth agape, trying to make sense of the bizarre scene unfolding before you. What the fuck is happening right now?

"Whose finger is that?!" You blurt out unintentionally, causing silence to take over the room.

Sorrel takes a good look at you as he spits out a piece of meat and puts it in a bowl labeled 'cysts’, turning his attention to the man next to you. “200 years. I don’t know what keeps you going. Maybe you just like the feeling of that good old California sunshine on your wrinkly-ass face. Or maybe you’re still looking for her. Maybe not though... this your girlfriend or somethin’?"

"You really think I’d shack up with some smoothskin? She ain’t even that pretty.” The Ghoul retorts, ignoring your offended look as he scrunches his newly sewn finger to make sure it's functional. “And I sure as hell ain't still alive so that I can have unintelligent conversations with dipshits like yourself."

“Mind your fucking mouth. That’s the president of the government you’re talking to.” Troy speaks up.

“Oh, you’re president now?” He raises a brow, “In that case, I am hearing a whole lot of chatter about some woman. Name of Moldaver. They call her the Flame Mother.”

This new information about a woman catches you off guard, as it's the first time you've heard about her on this journey. While the two men continue their conversation, you find yourself racking your brain as the mention of Moldaver triggers a memory in your mind. You vaguely recall whispers in the air about a woman who leads a group of people up in the mountains. Tension begins to build in the room as you find yourself deep in thought, analyzing her possible connection to the bounty you were originally after. You notice a shift in the dynamics between the men after The Ghoul taunts Troy about killing his father in Filly. It seems to have struck a nerve and Rex is ordered to take away Troy's weapons.

“Take him out back and feed him to the hogs,” Sorrel's harsh order snaps you out of your thoughts. "And this one might be good for the local brothel."

"Oh, hell no," you mutter as Troy pulls you up to take you away. Determined to fight back, you struggle to release yourself from his grasp, refusing to be taken without a fight. Suddenly, a gunshot rings out, causing chaos in the room. The Ghoul, seizing an opportunity, managed to grab Rex’s pistol and shot him.

With the distraction, you act quickly. In a burst of adrenaline-fueled strength, you headbutt Troy, feeling the sharp pain of impact, and then tackle him to the ground. Overwhelmed by a surge of emotions and a fierce desire for survival, you unleash a flurry of tied fists striking his face repeatedly. Blood splatters across your face as you continue to pummel him. He’s surely dead by now but you can't stop - there is no way you are going to a brothel against your will.

Feeling a warm hand touch your shoulder, you are startled out of your frenzy. Looking up, you lock eyes with The Ghoul, who is standing over you with a small crooked smile playing on his lips. There is a glint of amusement in his gaze, as if he is savoring this violent side of you. His presence and subtle expression of approval offer a strange sense of validation for you.

“Goddamn it,” Sorrel exclaims in frustration, throwing his fork onto the table. As you slowly rise from the man you just bludgeoned to death, The Ghoul starts untying the rope around your wrists. Despite gloves covering his hands again, you find solace in his gentle touch as he works to release you from your bindings. Once finished, he strides over to the wall littered with wanted posters and tears off a sketch of a woman.

“I got one question for you, ol’ buddy. Why do you have this picture on your wall?” The Ghoul inquires, holding up the sketch.

“That’s Moldaver. Why?” Sorrel responds, a sense of curiosity evident in his voice.

“Well, that’s not how I remember her, is all,” He remarks cryptically.

“Yeah? Well, how do you remember her?”

The Ghoul doesn’t say a word and without further explanation he leads you both outside. The two of you stand facing each other in silence. He lets out a sigh and reaches for a dirty rag in his pocket, handing it to you without a word. You take it and begin to clean yourself up but it’s proves pointless as it’s just smearing the blood all over.

"Well, that didn't do shit," he remarks as he takes the rag back from you. His gaze scans the area until he spots a barrel of grimy water, prompting him to grab you by the base of your hair and drag you over to it. As he dunks your face into the water, you shout in protest, the shock of the cold liquid causing you to react instinctively. He lifts your head up and looks at you, his expression unreadable.

"What the fuck are you doing?! Do you just like waterboarding women in your free time?!" you yell angrily, spitting excess water onto his face.

"You're clean now," he states simply as he gestures to the now wet and cleansed skin on your face. “Come on, let’s get goin’.”

“Wait, you still want me around?” you question, surprised by his response.

“I saw you back there. Proved useful,” he acknowledges, wiping the spit off his face with a nonchalant expression. He starts walking away, and you instinctively follow his lead, the rhythm of his steps guiding you away from the ‘government’.

Trailing behind him for most of the day, you're left with nothing but the echo of your dream still etched in your mind. The surreal scene of a nuclear explosion as he touched you intimately felt oddly real, even in its absurdity. Your eyes study his form, his posture, the way he moves - every detail etching itself into your consciousness. He dunked you in cold, murky water, and yet here you are, daydreaming what it might actually feel like to have his body pressed against you.

Unknown to you, The Ghoul is wrestling with his own inner turmoil. The dream he experienced replays in his mind like a haunting loop, stirring up emotions he'd rather keep buried. He finds himself irrationally angry with you for making him feel so vulnerable, even though he knows it was just a dream. His mind is now filled with thoughts of you - the curves of your body, the softness of your lips, the gentle touch of your hands.

He feels the weight of your gaze on him, and it unnerves him more than he'd like to admit. His fingers clench tighter around the hunting knife hanging on his belt, a physical manifestation of the internal struggle he's experiencing. He doesn't dare glance back at you, afraid that the turmoil in his eyes might give away more than he intends.

"Will you stop starin'?" His abrupt words cut through the tension, causing you to freeze in your tracks. Embarrassment washes over you as you realize he's aware of your lingering gaze. Attempting to play it off nonchalantly, you open your mouth to respond, but only incoherent sputtering and mumbled words escape. He turns to face you, an intense gaze piercing you like a bullet.

“I am not staring,” you manage to assert, a hint of defensiveness in your tone. “I’m just focused on the path ahead.”

“Listen up, Smoothie. I ain't keepin' you 'round 'cause we're best buds. It's 'cause you're damn good at spillin' blood. So don't be gettin' any ideas about you and me sharin' heartfelt moments or takin' strolls in the wasteland." He snaps.

“What the fuck are you going on about?” You laugh, but then a realization dawns on you. "Oh, hang on.… Am I the reason your 'little friend' made an appearance this morning?"

“Now what do you mean litt-“ He cuts himself off abruptly, “Don’t flatter yourself, Smoothie. I ain’t one for sentimentality or... entanglements.”

A small smile begins to tug at the corners of your lips, a reaction that visibly irks him, his annoyance evident in the way his features tighten. You can’t tell if he's contemplating strangling you or something even worse. Either way, there's a subtle thrill in knowing that you're the reason he’s so worked up. You approach him with a spring in your step and pat his chest, earning a fierce glare in return.

"Don't fret, sweetheart," you grin, your tone dripping with sarcasm as you use the endearing term, "I'll just pretend this never happened. Now, how about we find a spot to camp for the night?"

Tag List: @fallout-girl219 @ellabellabunny123 @sunnexaltation @coolrobloxkid28 @cheshirecat484 @capan-deveraux2 @rebelmarylou

[hanalulugguk]

You've been gone 10 years, and it's made you bitter

Part of Sweet - a Gojo Satoru mini series

One

Note: As incredible as his mind is, gege deeply hurt me with chapter 236, this came to mind after reading it when i felt like gojo satoru, strongest sorcerer, was robbed. So this my personal characterization of him <3

Warnings: none for this chapter

unedited

Even though the distance was grand, you could still hear the loud cheers and screams coming from the training courts at the compl;et other side of the school upon entering the school premise after venturing up the long path to the top of the mountain. You take the peaceful walk from the gate to the inside of the building. 

You take your time walking the halls, looking around and stepping into random old classrooms that you remember having spent hours in during your late teens. Navigating your way to the principal's office to the best your memory can serve you. You almost walk past it, the name change throwing you off. You take a deep breath  before knocking against the wooden door, you hear a faint ‘come in’ before you pull the door open. The yellow lighting of the room is dim, and poor. You notice before you step inside that it’s different than you remember it. 

There was no longer a desk at the far end of the room by the window, there was no longer an absurd looking orange couch pushed to the far right of the room with 2 ugly looking metal chairs on either side of it. It’s entirely empty. Once you step inside though you do notice the water cooler in the corner of the room. 

“You’re early,” yaga almost freaks you out from his position in the far end of the room, in the least dim lit area of the room. “Did i interrupt nap time? Why is it so dark here?” you make your way over to where yaga was seated. 

“I can see your sense of humour is yet to waver,” he doesn’t look up from the stuffed doll in his hand, continuing to delicately stuff more cotton into the small opening, needle and thread placed neatly on the mat in front of him along with other doll skin. 

“It never will, and you know it” you jab back as you take a seat next to him, you still cannot see his face fully, but you can see the corner of his lip lift. You sit in silence as he tries to thread the needle to sew the last bit back, after a few minutes of him obviously struggling you grab them from his hand, threading it for him before ripping it from the rool and tying it to secure it. He doesn’t protest when you take the neon green bear from his lap and start to sew the last bit as he watches you. 

“How was your trip here?” you shrug in response. “Same as always, long and tiresome. Next time you ask me to come, I expect to be pulled up on a trolley. These stairs never get easier.” he lets out a breath of a laugh, eyes trained on your working hands. 

“How was europe?” he asks further, “sorcery work is much less busy anywhere outside of japan. Not much to take care of there. It was good.” you hold the bear up once you’re done before turning it for yaga to see, he offers a small smile as he takes it from you. 

“Nice to have you back,”

“It’s only for a month, don’t get too used to it, don’t want any weeping when i’m leaving. “ you joke and he nods, “i know, that was the deal, only a month.” he agrees with you as he places the bear onto the mat at his knees. “I’m not used to the plaque with your name on it,  almost missed your office, or play room. Why’d you empty it so much?” you ask looking around again at all the empty space from when you were still here, walking these halls as if they were your own, which to some extent is true. 

“Felt better, more calm.” he explains as he follows your line of vision, zeroing in on the small photo frame hung up right next to the wall, the one of all of you when you were still in your first year. shoko , satoru, suguru and you as you stand with big smiles around yaga, a cake in his hand and a rainbow polka dot party hat on his head. 

You hum in response to him, “i can get that.” your voice is low, quiet, as the two of you longer on the photo for a little while longer. “So when am i to meet the students?” you ask looking back at yaga who stands with a huff, “now if you’d like.” he looks down at where you remain seated. 

“They’re in the training court with gojo.” you pull your lips into a thin line before offering him a big smile. “Sure.” he extends his hand to you and you gladly take it as he helps you up. 

The two of you step into the hall, you trailing the smallest bit behind yaga, you savor the silence, knowing that although it had been years since you’ve seen each other, you’d prefer to skip the aspect of catching up on what is unnecessary to share, and he knows, so he doesn’t push. As you get closer to the exit leading to the training courts, the chaos gets louder and louder. 

“Are they anything like us?” you ask as you step out into the sun, taking a quick skip to catch up to his pace where you had stalled.  “no one could compare to the lot of you. Worst class i had ever taught.” although it may seem harsh, you can sense the fondness in his tone, and you know, with him saying it that he cherished you. All 4 of you. You shrink into yourself for a second as you grin at his words.

“YA, megumi! You can do better than that, don’t let a girl beat you.” you hear him before you see him. As the two of you round the benches you catch sight of the source of chaos. The students were posed in 2 groups of threes. Two pairs in combat formation with an orange ping pong on each of their heads whilst one spectated each pair. You note the panda but don’t ask any questions. Satoru was seated on the bright green grass, both legs spread in front of him, wide open as he leaned back on his palm, his back in your direction. 

“Why is it that every time i come you are layed back whilst all of your students do the work?” yaga asks satoru who didn’t bother turning around, his sight loud as you catch the motion of him reaching to push his glasses up the bridge of his nose. The students all stopped their training seeing hearing principle yaga’s entrance.

“Well i learned from the best obviously.” gojo responds back nonchalantly as you stop right behind satoru, yaga right next to you. “And since when do you spectat? Has your trust me hindered that much?” he asks leaning his head back to look at, who he thought would be yaga, but instead the top of his head bumps your knees, gazing up at you with pure boredom before his eyes, slowly, widen upon contact. You offer him a smile as yaga speaks up again. 

“I’ve come to introduce someone,” the students whispers, if they would be called that, reach you as you break eye contact with satoru to meet their eyes. They tredge carefully, you’re not sure if it’s yaga’s presence or your foreign one. 

“Due to recent events, and some doubts in your training,” he takes a quick glance at satoru who doesn’t quip up with anything in return, “i’ve brought on some temporary help to grow your abilities in a more reliable way. This is y/n one of the only 5 special grade sorcerers. I believe she’d be great at teaching you something useful.”  

You give a moderately big smile as you offer a small bow to the students, few bow back whilst the rest either give a small wave or nothing at all. You do notice though the boy with bright pink hair and his enthusiastic wave following his bow. “Hello,” he blushes at the personal attention you provide him, placing his hand over his mouth. 

Out of your peripheral you notice satoru shift before getting up, standing so tall above you he almost entirely blocks the sun. you tone out what yaga continues to say to the students as you glance up at the man towering above you, his glasses were now off, held in his hand as he looks you over, eyes scanning your entire figure. His eyes meet yours again, and it’s almost like he’s staring you down. You stare back, just as intense small smile toying at your lips. 

“Hey,” you whisper, and he takes a few seconds longer than you expect to respond. “Hey,” it’s quieter than yours, almost like he’s distracted. 

“Haven’t seen you in a while.” you muse and he scoffs, “kind what happens when you take off right after graduation.” you ignore the sarcasm in his voice. “Kinda what happens when you don’t reach out when you know exactly where i was.” you retort and so he doesn’t respond, just turning to face his students, but you notice the pout he sports before he turns. Very mature on his end. 

“You’ll be attending with her alongside your classes with gojo sensei this month. She’ll help you with everything you need to know regarding special grade curses and how to fight them as sorceres of your grade.”

“That’s possible?” the girl with short orange hair asks, hand placed on her hip as she spares you an unsure glance before looking back at principle yaga. “It is if you learn it from me,” you respond, voice softer to try and not come off as cocky. “Some of the ideals at jujutsu are a little, hmm, outdated, straying away from those ideals are sometimes helpful.” you explain and even though she doesn’t respond, the way her face contorts you could tell she was a little more open to it. 

“You’ll start lessons from tomorrow.” yaga points out before, all in one motion, turns to leave the training court. You watch as he walks away with a frown, “well he hasn’t changed a bit,” you mutter at his lack of regard to you. 

“Hmm, you’d think he’d treat his favourites a little better than the rest of us,” the slight biting tone in gojo’s voice is unharmful, you can tell. “Hmm, you’d think you’d have matured past your teenage years,” you bite back and he yet again scoffs as you roll your eyes as if you were irritated at his attitude but the smile you have tells otherwise.

“I’ll see you guys tomorrow, 11 am sharp please.” you give a small wave to the group of students, before turning to gojo one last time. “You too satoru,” you nudge him lightly with your shoulder ut he doesn’t budge, obviously. 

–

It’s past 8pm when there’s a sudden knock at your dorm room, you slip your bookmark between the pages you were on as you place the book on your night stand before slipping your feet into your slippers. Another knock sounds and you can almost feel who the impatient visitor is. You opt to not respond as you wrap your hand around the food handle and twist it open. You briefly meet eyes with gojo before he slips into your room, waiting for no invitation to come in. 

You furrow your brows as you remain where you stood, door lightly ajar, handle still in your hand as your twist your neck to look back at gojo, white shirt and black plaid pyjama bottoms clad as he is halfway to your bed. “Am i on your property?”

“What?” he turns to ask, he’s not wearing anything over his eyes, and even in the dimly light room, his iris glow even brighter than the small bedside lamp you have on. You nod your head towards the door, he huffs before slipping his foot back into his slipper before stepping back outside the entrance to your room. He stood before you, eyes fixed on the cieling as he obviously throws an inner tantrum.

“Can i come in?” he mumbles and you wait a beat for him to continue, when he doesn’t you help him. “Please,”

“Please,” he repeats almost before you’re done, and you open the door fully, he wastes no time in stepping inside again, making his way to your bed, kicking his slippers off before face planting onto the mattress. 

“Oh please, treat my room as your own.” you mumble and he kicks his foot once to help him sit up on your bed as you make your way to your bed, sitting where you were, back against the headboard. He shifts in his spot to turn and face you. “What are you doing here?” he asks blankly as you pick your book back up, collecting your knees up to your chest and pulling the covers onto your legs to cover them. 

“Do you still only listen to yourself when you talk?” you ask placing your book in your lap and looking over at gojo. His face is hard, his breathing mildly laboured, like his heart is beating faster than usual. His brows are furrowed enough to form creases on his forehead as his eyes pierce into yours. 

He doesn’t grant you an answer, you pull you lips in a tight line whilst letting out a sigh, “i’m here to help. Yaga wanted me to come around for a bit, says the sudden surge of special grade curses was worrying him.”

“I’m capable of managing my students.” he fights back making you place your book aside, “no one said you can’t. I’m only here to help.” you explain, voice soft. You can tell he’s feeling a plethora of emotions right now, quite possibly since this morning and it’s been brewing since. 

His brows cease a bit, un-creasing only slightly as he averts his gaze to the crumbled sheets beneath him. Picking at the stray thread in his pant leg. You grant him silence, a chance to bring up what’s actually bothering. You watch him, his slow blinks, his ever changing expression as he seems to be turning things over in his head, the way he starts picking at his palm aggressively, that’s when you intervene. 

You reach over to place your hand over his fidgeting one, he stops instantly. “Don’t,” you say, slowly removing his hand and taking a quick look at his palm. 

“You didn’t reach out.” he points out and you hum, rubbing your thumb over the slightly pink skin of his palm. “Neither did you,” you respond back and he retreats his hand back from yours, tucking them under his crossed legs. 

“I’ve always told you wasn’t planning on staying around.” you point out and he huffs, “though that would’ve changed, after everything,” you know what he’s referring to. 

“Nothing would have changed that. You know it.” you’re not mean, he can tell you’re only being honest. “You’ve been gone 10 years.” he points out and you smirk lightly, “and it’s made you bitter.” 

“I’m not bitter,” he defends, straightening his back as you raise your brows. “Upset?” you ask and he scrunches his face up, “no,” he defends once again, eyes boring into yours. “Hmm, what about yearning? Did you yearn for me satoru?” a light blush raises to his cheeks as he tsks in fake annoyance before getting off the bed as you gloat at his frustration, your grin reaching your eyes as you realise gojo is still as easy to affect as he used to be.

You watch as he paces around slowly, looking at all the things you had laid out from your unpacking. “Why didn’t you put anything up? The walls look boring?” he asks as he scans the bare walls of the room.

“I’m not staying long, there’s no need.” you lean back against the headboard as you watch him observe the space, curious as always. “How long are you staying?” 

“You really don’t listen huh?” you mock and he ignores as he picks up the small matrioshka doll on the vanity, opening it as if he doesn’t know what he’ll find in it. 

“A month,” you respond after a few moments of silence, he turns to you, staring you down once again. “Just a month?” he asks and you offer a small smile as you hum in response. He doesn’t follow up, instead busying himself with placing the matrioshka doll down to look through your bottles of serums and moisturizers you laid out.

And again, you give him his moment, as he mindlessly rolls the bottles around looking between them as if he was memorizing them, before speaking up again. 

“I missed you too,” he scoffs but doesn’t turn around. “I never said i missed you,” he mutters, voice low as he places the bottle down and turns to you. “You don’t need to say it. I can feel it.” you tease and he doesn’t sass you. His feet bringing him to the side of the bed you were at as he stands above you. 

You look up at him as he simply stood, staring at you. His hand twitches at his side before he reaches up to twirl a small strand of hair between his fingers, you don’t stop or question him. His thumb caresses right under your jaw as he takes a quick glance at your lips. “Are you still mean?” he asks and it doesn’t take you more than a second to register what he means. “Yes.” you respond making him huff aggressively before stomping his way to your door. you‘re in a fit of laughter as you are left staring at the door he slammed on his way out of your room.

You shake your head as your laughter dies down, you place your book on your nightstand, too worn out to continue reading, and turn your light off before slipping under the cover. Unable to remove the smile off your face from seeing one of the people closest to you after so many years.

pending; chapter 2

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[candycandy00]

Roses in the Sky - An Original Alien x Reader Story Part 1

In a future where humanity huddles in decaying domed cities controlled by alien invaders, you and your best friend Anna work as make-shift nurses in a tiny clinic run by the young doctor Terrian. The city is ruled by the aliens' violent, half-breed offspring who serve as brutal overseers. You and Anna have always tried to avoid these overseers at all cost, but your life is changed when one of those same terrifying offspring is brought into the clinic, injured and unconscious.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10

This is an original Alien (well half alien) x Fem Reader story! I hope everyone who enjoys my fanfiction will give this a shot! I’m posting the first chapter just to check for interest. Any feedback whatsoever would be loved! I’ve already written this story so it’s not going to delay my fanfics. Just thought I might post chapters of this between fanfics if anyone is interested.

Slow burn, as this is a novel-length story, but there will be smut in later chapters! Also: violence, blood, rape attempts, death of side characters, etc.

The sky was red, and you hated it. You hated more the fact that you couldn't remember what it looked like when it was blue. The whole city looked like it was coated in blood. You saw enough blood already.

You walked along the littered, decaying streets of Gallica with a blue duffel bag on your shoulder. You kept the hood of your gray jacket pulled down over your head and your hands buried in your pockets. Standing out was never a good idea, at least not where they could see.

As you rounded a corner, you were suddenly sprayed with red liquid, and you only dared to steal a quick glance down the alley it came from. A body was tumbling to the ground, and you didn't even have time to see who it was or what sort of wound had drawn such a huge amount of blood. Your eyes had been drawn, in that brief moment, to the pair of black-clad figures standing frighteningly still beside the body. Their bi-colored eyes flicked upward, toward you, but you returned your gaze to the street in front of you and walked quickly away.

Your heart pounded and your hands trembled in your pockets until you were far enough down the street to safely assume they would not stop you. You knew what happened to those unlucky enough to somehow provoke the half-breeds, regardless of intention, so you hurried along toward the clinic without looking back once.

When you reached the small, rundown clinic, you were met at the door by a girl in a nurse's uniform who placed her hands on her hips and scowled at you. “You're late!”

You pushed by her and dropped the duffel bag from your shoulder, flopping it onto a nearby cot. You unzipped it and pulled out your own uniform. "My alarm clock didn't go off."

The other girl stood leaning in the door way as you stepped into an empty patient slot and slid the dirty curtain closed. "Terrian is gonna be pissed at you,” she said. 

You emerged from behind the curtain in a white button-up shirt that was a little too tight and a skirt that was way too short. “He'll get over it."

"Yeah, as soon as he see's you."

You laughed. "You're jealous, Anna."

"Because that perverted freak lets you get away with anything?" Anna asked. She was so petite that even the smallest, tightest uniforms Terrian had given them seemed to fit her just right.

"No, because I look better in the uniform."

Both of you laughed as you laid out your supplies on rickety metal tables, organizing them neatly into categories according to how often they were used. The alcohol, thread, and needles were first in line, followed by bandages, then ointments and creams.

The door leading to the main treatment room flung open and a man with shoulder-length, pale blonde hair tied into a short ponytail walked in. He wore wide-rimmed glasses and a lab coat covered in blood stains. He looked angry as he approached, glaring at you, but suddenly froze when he rounded the metal tables and the full length of you came into view.

He smiled brightly, wrapping you into a hug. "You wore it today!"

Anna rolled her eyes and brushed her bangs, the longest part of her auburn hair, away from her face with her hand.

You pulled free from Terrian and adjusted your ill-fitting clothes. "It's the only uniform I had clean."

"And it's my favorite," Terrian said, then glanced toward Anna. "Stingy Anna always wears pants, even though I beg her to wear the skirt with the slit up the side."

Anna gave him a dirty look and he gave her a grin in return. He looked over the supplies then held out a thick stack of papers. "Look at all this. These are all patients who left the clinic in the last month and haven't returned for their checkups. Next week I'll be making a lot of house calls."

Both you and Anna frowned. You hated it when Terrian made house calls. He was the only doctor at the clinic, and you two were the only nurses. Things were hectic enough with the three of you, but when he was gone, the clinic was thrown into absolute chaos.

"Anyway," he spoke up, "we have a lot of patients waiting already. Let's get to work!"

You and Anna had no formal training, had not even finished high school, but you had both been living on the streets three years ago when Terrian approached you about working for him. He taught you two the basics, and the rest you learned over time. In this city, injured people couldn't be picky.

Together, you and Anna wheeled your metal supply tables through the swinging doors into the main treatment area of the clinic. Cots were lined up in two rows, facing each other, for the entire length of the large room. There was only enough room for one person to walk between each cot, and all but a few were occupied. People were moaning, screaming, crying, or unconscious. Anyone not in mortal danger was sent home after being stitched or bandaged up.

Illnesses were not often treated, as serious diseases were most often fatal no matter what the doctor did, but injuries were extremely common. Blood dripped from nearly every cot in the room, and a few patients were bandaged to the point of looking like mummies. You and Anna had both learned quickly to develop strong stomachs.

The two of you were checking on a patient that had been brought in last night with a chopped off leg when Terrian came zooming past you, pushing a stretcher.

"Emergency surgery!" he called, disappearing into the room you had just changed in.

You both dropped what you were doing and ran after him, then stopped dead in your tracks as soon as you were through the doors, staring at the figure on the stretcher.

"Doctor, that's... one of them,” Anna said, her voice almost a whisper. 

The man on the stretcher wore an ornate military uniform - black pants and a long black jacket with golden buttons up the front and matching trim along the cuffs and collar. The uniform was instantly recognizable to every single person in the city, because only they wore them. His skin was ghostly white and his hair a jet-black mess scattered across his face.

Terrian was ripping that glorious black uniform from the man’s motionless body. "I know what he is, Anna, but he's still a patient. And right now, he's dying unless we can stop the bleeding."

You and Anna hesitated just inside the door, looking at each other and then back to the man. Anna shook her head. "I can't... I can't help him. Not after all they've done."

Terrian stopped and looked at her. At first, you were sure he would scold her, but he merely sighed and nodded. "I understand. Go tend to the other patients."

You watched the other girl leave, then turned to Terrian. He looked at you with a pleading expression. "He'll be dead within the hour if we don't do anything."

You took a deep breath, then rushed over to Terrian's side. He held out his hands while you poured alcohol over them, then rinsed your own. Looking down at the young man, he seemed fragile, vulnerable. Almost human. His torso was exposed, revealing a long, deep cut across his abdomen that was gushing out blood. Funny how his body was absolutely impeccable, toned to lean perfection and resembling a stone statue, but marred by that huge red gash.

The cut was so long, and the bleeding so severe, that each of you began stitching on separate ends of the wound so that you would meet in the middle to tie things off. A sloppy job, yes, but the fastest route to closing the wound. He would heal faster than normal people, would probably be fine in a matter of hours, but only if you stopped the bleeding.

Once you and the doctor were finished, you again cleaned the wound and Terrian began bandaging the patient up. "Amazing, isn't it?" he asked when he was done, "It won't even leave a scar. Not on him."

You washed your hands in the nearby sink and thought of Anna. "It's not fair."

"Of course it's not," Terrian told you, wiping the blood from his hands on a stained towel. "Nothing in this world ever is.”

You dried your hands and walked again through the swinging doors. Anna was changing the bandages on a young girl's arm, but looked up when you approached. "How could you stand it? Helping that thing?"

"I didn't enjoy it, okay? But he would've died. This is a clinic, Anna. We're supposed to help dying people."

Anna stood up and stepped away from the young girl's bedside. "Yeah, people. Not them."

"But he's half human, isn't he? Isn't that enough?"

Anna snorted. "Was that enough to stop those creatures from barging into my house and slitting my mom's throat? Was it enough to stop them from crushing my brother's head under their boots? Was it enough to stop them from... from what they did to me?!"

You went silent. You didn't know what to say. You knew the half-breeds had killed most of Anna's family, but you had yet to hear any details before now. Finally, you reached out and took the other girl's hand. "I'm sorry, Anna. I'm really sorry."

Anna pulled you into a hug. "I know. I'm sorry I jumped down your throat. I just don't want to see you be hurt by them too."

"I don't think he's in a position to hurt anyone right now," you told her after you separated. "He's not even conscious."

Anna looked toward the swinging doors. "Be careful. Even when they look harmless, they're still dangerous."

You nodded, and wheeled your cart over to the other side of the room. You stopped at the bed of an elderly man who was missing both his feet. He was sweating and breathing heavily. You took his blood pressure and wrote the results in a tablet. He looked up at you with astonishingly kind eyes.

"If the nurses look like this, I'm gonna have to get my feet cut off more often," he said with a chuckle.

You pulled back the sheet to check his bandages. "You sure are a charmer, Mr. Renaldo," you said as you began unrolling the strips of cloth.

"Don't believe a word he says!" Anna called across the room, "I told him yesterday he could hold my hand while Terrian stitched him up and he said he'd rather hold my ass!"

Rhoswen stopped cleaning the bloody stumps where feet used to be long enough to lightly slap his shoulder. "You shameless flirt!"

He laughed and looked at the man in the bed next to him, who didn't seem to be in such good spirits. "Can't blame me for trying, can you?"

The other man gave a weak smile and looked away.

"Now now, let's not disturb the other patients," you said gently.

"Everybody's so glum. That's what those damn Pagoda want," he said.

You finished his bandages and patted him on the arm. You bent down and whispered to him, "Thanks for cheering us up, Mr. Renaldo."

The next few hours went by steadily but quickly, as you made your way around the room checking on people, giving out soup, changing bandages, and occasionally holding someone's hand while Terrian performed some sort of painful procedure.

Unfortunately, pain relievers were as rare and expensive as genuine jewels were in the olden days, when the sky was still blue. The only way to put a patient to sleep was to quite literally knock them out with a blunt instrument, which was a last resort.

The clinic was dirty and crowded and in shambles. The people were desperate, demanding, and understandably irritable. But you liked being there. You liked being with Anna and even Terrian, who could at least make you smile. You liked helping people who were suffering, because you enjoyed seeing a tiny flicker of hope in their eyes.

Because you could almost grasp a little bit of hope for yourself.

The clinic was all you had after your parents died. And everyday you dreaded returning to your tiny apartment where hope drained from every inch of you like red sun fading into black night. But at least you could always come back the next day, where you could laugh with Anna and everything else would fall away into dust.

It was almost time to go home, and all the patients had been taken care of. Anna left out the front door, not wanting to walk through the back room where she would have to see the lone patient on the stretcher.

You waved to Terrian, who was making one last run around the room to check everyone over, then walked into the back room. The young man was still unconscious and the rest of his clothes had been removed, a sheet draped over his body. You crept up to the stretcher and looked down, watching him breathe. After feeling certain that he was indeed unconscious, you walked into the empty patient slot you had changed in earlier and pulled the curtain closed.

You couldn't walk home in your uniform, as it was dangerous enough for a girl to be alone on the streets in the evenings, but wearing an outfit like that was a definite no. You quickly pulled it off, then reached for your jeans. But before you could even unfold them, you heard the curtain suddenly fly open.

You whirled around in anger, certain that perverted Terrian would be standing there grinning like an idiot. But you were not met with the smiling doctor, but the cold, expressionless face of the now conscious patient. His eyes, one blue and the other lime-green, bore into you, unblinking.

He was completely naked, save for the bandage across his abdomen, and you tried your best to keep your eyes on his face.

You suddenly realized that you were only in your underwear, and backed up until you bumped into a cot, holding your jeans in front of you. The man’s eyes never left you, and your heart was pounding rapidly in your chest. You had never been face-to-face with a half-breed before, not in this close proximity.

There was a pause, where both of you stared at each other for several moments, not moving. Then, in the blink of an eye, the man lunged forward and was inches away from you. You jerked backward, inadvertently ramming yourself into the cot where the metal collided with your bare back. You dropped to your knees, wincing.

When you looked back up, the half-breed was looming over you, and suddenly reached out one hand toward you. You had seen what the hands of half-breeds could do, had treated many a patient who had somehow ran into one of them. In fact, just today you had bandaged up a woman who's left arm had been pulled right off, like the wings off a fly, by a half-breed.

You curled into a defensive ball and screamed, your horrified voice ringing out through the clinic and undoubtedly to the buildings nearby.

[rorywritesjunk]

I can’t tell where the journey will end But I know where to start

Prequel to my Kid Buggy fic, set about 11-ish years before that story.

Buggy meets you by chance when he needs his buttons sewn back onto his jacket. He’s young, up and coming, and he thinks everyone should cower before him wherever he goes, but all you do is smile at him.

Rating: PG-13ish just for some swearing. Warning: Buggy’s in his early 20s. He’s an asshole. He just is because I wanted to write him loud, demanding, everything. There’s 3 new characters thrown in because why not? Future Wife gets a name as well! A/N: I have no idea when Buggy became a Captain, so he’s a fresh faced captain in this. No clue how long this fic will be. I just started on the 4th chapter but I’m excited to write it out! I had fun with the original fic and decided to write the prequel to how they met. Enjoy!

Also I have to go back to chapter 5 of my Kid Buggy fic since they talk most about their relationship beginnings in there, oops. I also wanted to write Buggy as the sort of "I'm a smooth operator until I'm not". And the Future Wife gets named in this chapter because I decided she needed a name.

Title comes from “Wake Me Up” by Avicii.

TAGLIST: @lostfirefly @ane5e @kingofthemfingpirates @the-angriest-angel @tiredemomama @valen-yamyam16 @i-reblog-fics-i-like @plethora-of-fickleness

Chapter 1 + Chapter 2 + Chapter 3 + Chapter 4 + Chapter 5 + Chapter 6 + Chapter 7 + Chapter 8 + Chapter 9 + Chapter 10 + Chapter 11 + Chapter 12 + Chapter 13 + Chapter 14 + Chapter 15 + Chapter 16 + Chapter 17 + Chapter 18 + Epilogue

Chapter 3

You saw him again a month later. He really was popping by for every little thing now, and this time was no different. You were working on a dress for a customer while the girls were ironing and hemming other orders. When Buggy burst into the shop he paused for a brief moment when he saw you before marching up to the counter where your boss waited.

“What now?” She demanded. Buggy glared at her but he held his ground, not backing down from her.

“I… need something fixed.” He said, glancing in your direction briefly before pointing to his shoes. “My socks.” 

“We don’t mend socks.” Your boss told him firmly. “Throw them out and get new ones.”

“You can’t fix them?!” He exclaimed. Miss Pins shook her head. Buggy took a deep breath, looking as though he was trying to think of something else. “Well, can you-”

“I can darn the socks.” You told him as you set your needle and thread down. Your boss glared at you, trying to tell you to sit down and stop helping this guy without speaking a word but you chose to ignore her. You pushed your chair back from the table and smiled at him. “But I’ll only do it if they’re washed. I assume you’re wearing them right now?”

Buggy turned red and looked away from you as he nodded. You chuckled softly and shook your head as you stood up. “Okay, come with me. Let’s get you taken care of.” 

Your boss and coworkers watched as the pirate followed after you to the backroom like a little puppy follows his owner. Miss Pins was going to have words with the both of you about this: he needed to stop coming around and you needed to stop being nice to him. He wasn’t some stray you needed to keep feeding. He was a damn pirate who needed to get back on his ship and sail away. While it wasn’t uncommon for the shop to have repeat customers, he was a thorn in Miss Pins side since he first showed up. She did not like him one bit and she did not like the way he looked at you.

You had Buggy sit down and remove his shoes while you got the washing bin ready. Since one of the services was to clean customers' clothes for them, you saw no reason why you wouldn’t wash his socks before mending them. Buggy said nothing as he removed his socks and held them out to you, but you grabbed a bowl and had him set them in there. He frowned but did as you asked before leaning forward in his seat, watching you as he tried to tuck his feet under the chair.

“I never know when to expect you, Captain.” You told him as you mixed the cleaning solution into the bin. Once it was ready you grabbed the bowl and tossed his socks into the soapy water. “But I enjoy the surprise of you showing up.”

“Well, I have things that need to be mended.” He shot back as he turned red. It wasn’t like he was coming here on purpose to have you fix his things. “And this is the only place that caters to pirates and does a decent job.”

You glanced at him with a smile as you added a small agitator into the bowl, stirring up the water and socks to get them clean. “I’m glad you chose us then, Captain.”

“Buggy.” He mumbled, looking down at his feet. You frowned, not hearing him at first but he cleared his throat and spoke a little louder. “You can call me Buggy.”

“Oh.” You looked back at the water that was getting dirtier with each agitation. Calling him by his first name was a little personal. “Okay.”

“I… never learned your name.” He continued to mumble, looking incredibly uncomfortable and unsure of himself right then. 

“That’s because I never told you.” Was your response as you pulled the socks from the water to wring them out. You set them aside and dumped the dirty water before refilling the tub with fresh water. 

“Well, what’s your name then?” Buggy asked. “What should I call you?”

You winked at him and went back to cleaning the socks. “Whatever you want to call me, Buggy.” 

He felt a small surge of courage right then as he now leaned back in his chair with a smirk. The chair tilted backwards, resting on two legs while the other two were inches off the ground. “Can I call you Babe?”

The courage left as soon as it arrived because you turned to look at him, face unreadable, and he lost his balance and tipped the chair backwards with him in it, his legs flying up and over, his torso separating from his body and landing beside him. 

You just stared at him in shock for a moment before rushing over to grab his legs. This… was weird. Very weird. His body seemed to snap back together and he stared at you in horror. Was this something pirates were able to do, separate their body parts like that? 

“Are you okay?” You managed to ask. “Buggy, your body-”

“I’m fine!” He snapped as he pulled away from you, embarrassed by what you saw. He didn't want you to see that, not yet when he was trying to get to know you. “Don’t to-”

You took his hat off his head and set it aside, ignoring his temper as you touched his head, feeling for any bumps from the fall. His entire body went rigid, eyes wide, almost fearful as you cupped his cheeks, looking into his eyes. You were just checking for injury, maybe a concussion from the tumble, but then you smiled with relief.

“You didn’t hit your head too hard it seems.” You said as you started to pull your hands back, but he grabbed you and your eyes widened when you saw his hands on your wrists but with no arms attached to them. “Buggy, are you okay?”

“What’s all this noise?” Miss Pins demanded as she came into the back, Livia and Edith following behind her. “I swear, if you two are fu-”

She stopped when she saw the two of you: Buggy on the ground with you kneeling over him with disembodied hands on your wrists. At least Buggy had the mind to look embarrassed by the situation while you just smiled at your boss as you explained what happened.

“Chair tipped back and he took a tumble, but he’s okay.” You told her as his hands returned to his arms. “Sorry if we were loud.”

Everything was okay for a moment, but you and Buggy both saw Livia lean over to Edith and not so quietly whisper, I guess his nose is real since it stayed on when he fell.

What if it’s glued on? Edith whispered back. I still think it's fake. No one has a nose like that. 

He has a nose like that. Livia grinned as she glanced in his direction. I bet it honks.

Buggy didn’t even have the chance to react because you were scolding the teenagers for him; even Miss Pins had her arms crossed and was giving the apprentices both a look. 

“Don’t talk about his nose, you two!” You snapped at them, friendly demeanor gone and replaced with a fierce protectiveness, startling the two of them and even Buggy. “Honestly! Apologize for being rude now! I cannot believe you both!”

“But-” Livia started to say but Edith cut her off. 

“You’re not in charge!” The other teen exclaimed, looking up at Miss Pins. “He’s been nothing but rude to us since he first came here! Why do we have to be nice to him?”

“Because he’s a paying customer.” Miss Pins told her. “And he’s never been rude to you two, just me and Sunny, so you two apologize to the Captain now.” 

The two looked at their caretaker before reluctantly looking back at Buggy. With the way you were glaring at them they knew they needed to apologize or else. The look of absolute fury in your eyes terrified them more than Buggy’s behavior had so far. 

“I’m sorry.” They both said before you pointed to the door.

“Go clean the kitchen and start dinner, both of you.” You ordered. “You’ll also clean the kitchen again tonight after dinner.” You shook your head and sighed. “I’m so disappointed in the two of you.”

Livia and Edith’s jaws dropped and they looked at Miss Pins once more. She nodded in agreement with what you were saying. At this point she trusted you (kind of) to make certain decisions, and speaking about a customer like that in front of him was grounds for punishment. Both left the room, grumbling about it being unfair. 

“Fix his socks and then he leaves, understand?” Miss Pins said. “And be quieter in here.”

You nodded, swallowing heavily as you tried to calm yourself down. It wasn’t often you got angry like that, but you were upset for him that they would say that in front of him like that. Your hands were shaking as you stood up, reaching out to pull him to his feet. He reluctantly allowed help, but as soon as he got to his feet he turned to head to the door but you held onto his hand.

“Buggy, wait.”

“What?!” He snapped as he turned to face you, cheeks burning from embarrassment. You were just a tailor, a shopgirl, you had no business being nice to him apart from getting paid for it. He didn’t need you coming to his defense when people made comments about his appearance, it happened enough that he always handled it with yelling and violence. No one ever apologized, and yet you had the two do it. 

“I’m sorry.” You told him, giving his hand a squeeze. “They shouldn’t have said those things.”

Buggy stared at you for a moment. His brain was going a million miles a minute as he processed your words, the way you were looking at him with those kind eyes that minutes before were full of absolute fury. He felt your warmth through his gloved hand and he wondered if he should take it off so he could feel how soft your skin was. There was a brief flicker of familiarity of your words, but he couldn’t recall ever hearing someone say that before to him. It must have happened in a dream.

He finally jerked out of your grasp and grabbed his boots and hat before storming out of the backroom. Miss Pins looked up as he walked through the shop, eyebrow raised as she saw him carrying his boots, but she said nothing. Maybe he would finally stop coming around and being a nuisance after all this. 

Except he would need to come back for his socks.

[morri-draws]

Gwaine x Reader - 'The Threads That Bind Us' - Chapter 13

Story Summary:

You, a humble dressmaker from Camelot’s lower town, are commissioned to make a new gown for Queen Guinevere. Impressed by your skills, she offers you the position of Royal Clothier. During your time in the castle, you catch the eye of one of the knights of King Arthur’s inner circle, Sir Gwaine. What starts as a sweet courtship is turned upside down when misfortune strikes and you must deal with the aftermath, as well as an unwelcome visit from Gwaine’s unpleasant sister.

Rating: Mature

Tags: Female Reader/Gwaine, set between seasons 4 and 5, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort

Words: 3,795

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6

Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9

Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12

Read on Ao3

The next morning after breakfast, you draft a pattern for your new gown, then start making a mock-up. By sunset, the mock-up is sewn and has been tried on about four times, adjustments being made in between, until at last you are happy with it.

The next day, you cut the pattern pieces from silk and begin sewing the proper gown, working non-stop after breakfast until you are interrupted by a knock at your door. You put down your needle and cross the room, opening the door to find Gwaine looking back at you.

“You’re up and about!” You exclaim.

“And glad of it too. I was beginning to wonder if one could die of boredom,” He replies. “Anyway, want to walk down to the market with me and get some lunch?”

“Isn’t it a little early for lunch?”

Gwaine quirks a brow. “I don’t believe so. This is about the usual time,”

“I’m sorry, I’ve been so focused, I didn’t realise how much time has passed,”

“You’ve been working? I thought you’d finished the king and queen’s attire?”

“I did. I’m working on something for myself,”

“For the feast?”

“Yes,”

Gwaine peers over your shoulder. “May I see?”

“No, you may not,” You give a sly smile as you close the door a little, so it’s just wide enough for your face. “I want it to be a surprise,”

He crosses his arms. “Now you’ve got me curious,”

“Well, you’ll have to be patient,” You smirk. “Wait here. I’ll just grab my shawl and then we can go,”

~

Gwaine asks you to show him where you bought the pies for the indoor picnic, so you lead him to the shop and he purchases one for each of you. You sit on a bench just outside the shop to eat them, before heading back up market street. Gwaine seems to take an interest in the market stalls, his eyes darting over their wares.

“Looking for something in particular?” You ask.

“Hmm?” Gwaine snaps to attention. “Oh, not really. Just taking in all that our glorious city has to offer,” He grins.

You continue up market street at a leisurely pace, allowing yourself time to peruse since Gwaine seems to be doing so.

“It’s so good to see you up and about again,” You say once you reach the end of the traders’ stalls. “Does your wound still cause you any pain?”

“Occasionally, if I move a certain way,” Gwaine replies. “But it’s mostly alright,”

“I’m so thankful Merlin helped,” You sigh, dreading to think what the outcome may have been if he hadn’t.

“Merlin?” Gwaine frowns. “It was Gaius who healed me,”

“He did initially, yes. But whatever he was doing wasn’t working fast enough. Him and Merlin argued about how to treat you, and Merlin had to apply his remedy behind Gaius’ back,”

“Well, I’ll make sure to thank Merlin then,” Gwaine smiles. “Sounds like you were quite the regular visitor to my bedside,”

“Of course I was, I was worried sick! I… thought you might die,”

Gwaine halts and takes your hand in his, giving it a firm squeeze. “It means a lot that you were there with me,” He says seriously, before smiling. “But it’ll take a lot more than bandits to get rid of me,”

Your hand remains in his as you continue up the street.

“Merlin said you tended to me while I was unconscious, helped keep my fever down,” Gwaine says.

You nod.

“Spent a lot of time seeing me shirtless,” He smirks.

Your cheeks flood with warmth.

“Did you like what you saw?” Gwaine asks, eyes twinkling with mischief.

You give him a playful shove. “Being improper, and fishing for compliments,” You shake your head, but can’t hold back a smile. “I shan’t say anything,”

“I shall take that as a yes,”

“You’ll do no such thing!”

You continue walking, biting your bottom lip to hold back your grin, while Gwaine keeps step beside you, looking very amused and pleased with himself.

It’s not until you arrive at your chambers that you realise your hand remained entwined with Gwaine’s the entire way back. He unthreads his fingers and hooks his hand under yours, raising it to his lips. He plants a soft but lengthy kiss at the base of your fingers, his eyes locked onto yours. Your heart thumps as you hold his gaze, a flare of desire tearing through your body. He pulls his lips away and he lowers your hand, but still holds it in his.

“I shall leave you to your secret business now, my lady,”

At last, he pulls his hand away from yours, agonisingly slowly, so his fingers caress your skin from your palm to your fingertips, until the contact is finally broken. Heat pools in your core, the skin on your hand buzzing, as if it can still feel his touch. Gwaine gives you a warm but slightly mischievous smile, as if he knows exactly what kind of reaction he has stirred within you, before he turns and heads down the corridor, disappearing around a corner. You step into your chambers, resting your back against the door as you close it behind you, relishing the pleasant sensation coursing through you. You raise your hand to your face, the feeling of his lips still lingering on your fingers, and press it against your cheek, longing for more of his touch. You recall the long talk between you those days ago, the feeling of his arms around you when you were upset, and wish for him to hold you again, but in a moment of joy rather than sorrow.

You stand with those feelings for a time, unaware how many minutes have passed, until your heartbeat settles and you come to your senses. You must refocus your thoughts. You have a lot of work to do before the feast.

~

You spend the last few hours of daylight sewing before stopping to make dinner. Your thoughts remain on the gown as you eat, visualising it finished and how you will look in it, but your imaginings stop short at one detail: your hair. What are you to do with it? You can’t wear your cap to an event like this. Not only is it inappropriate for the occasion, it will completely ruin the look. But your hair length is also inappropriate for any occasion. You would be gawked at and you’d be an embarrassment.

Once you’ve finished washing up, you go to your bedchamber and sit in front of the mirror, unpinning your cap and removing it. Your hair has grown some since it was cut, but nowhere near enough to be socially acceptable. Your mood darkens as you wonder if you should bother continuing with the gown, and the part of you that still fears Gwaine will find your true appearance repellent rises to the surface.

You stare back at your reflection, hair flat and frizzy from being under the cap all day. You tear your gaze away, fists clenched, and prepare for bed.

~

You continue on the gown the next day, though your mind drifts and progress is slow, since your previous ambition has dwindled. As your length of thread is running short, you finish your current line of stitching and fiddle with the needle between your fingers, trying to decide whether you should rethread it or stop for the day, when there’s a knock at your door. Placing the needle down, you stand and cross the room, opening the door to find Gwen.

“I just thought I’d check in,” She smiles. “I haven’t seen you since receiving my gown,”

“I’m sorry, I’ve been busy. Though I still should have made time for you,” You step aside to allow Gwen to enter.

“It’s quite alright. Have you been spending a lot of time with a certain knight?” She raises a brow mischievously.

“I have,” You admit, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “But I’ve also been working on my own gown for the harvest feast,”

“Oh, may I see?”

You nod and lead Gwen to your work table where the gown is currently laid out, though a bit crumpled.

“That’s coming along nicely,” Gwen carefully smooths out the fabric with her hands, inspecting your work. “I can’t wait to see when it’s finished,”

She looks up at you with a smile, but upon seeing your expression, and your lack of response, her smile falters.

“Are you not happy with it?”

“It’s not that, it’s just,” You sigh. “I don’t know what to do about this,”

You remove your cap, hair falling against your neck and brushing along your collarbones. Gwen approaches, lifting a hand and running a lock of your hair through her fingers.

“It’s grown some,” She says.

“But not nearly enough,”

Gwen’s gaze wanders over your hair thoughtfully. “Have you ever curled your hair before?”

“No,”

“I wonder if we should try it, then it wouldn’t look so flat. I think once it’s got a bit of curl to it, it could look quite pretty,”

“Perhaps,” You shrug. “But I don’t know how to do that. I’ve never been good at styling hair,”

“Well, I am. I did used to be a lady’s maid,” She smiles and glances toward your fabric shelves. “Do you have any linen scraps?”

“I should have something,” You walk over to the shelves and rummage through the collection of fabric, until you find a square scrap of white linen. “Will this do?”

“That will do very nicely,” Gwen holds out her hand and you pass her the linen. “May I borrow your scissors?” She asks.

“Of course,” You retrieve them from your sewing box and give them to her.

Gwen thanks you and she lays out the piece of fabric on a clear section of your work table, before cutting it into strips. Once all the fabric is cut, she stacks the strips into a neat pile.

“Wet your hair tonight,” She says. “But don’t soak it. It needs to be just damp. I’ll come back after dinner and show you what to do. This can be a trial run. If you like the results, we can repeat the process the night before the harvest feast. If not, we can try something else,”

~

Gwen arrives at your chambers about an hour after you finish your dinner, and you carry a chair to your bedchamber, Gwen refusing one for herself since she says it’ll be easier to do the process while standing. You place the chair in front of the mirror and sit, while Gwen arranges the fabric strips and comb on the vanity. She takes a section of hair in one hand, and with the other, places one of the strips, which is much longer than the hair, beside it, then wraps the lock of hair round the strip in a spiral. Once the entire length of the hair has been coiled around, Gwen holds it in place with one hand, while with the other, she wraps the remaining length of fabric around the hair, working from the bottom up this time, until the hair is completely covered, then ties the two ends of the strips together, securing the hair inside. She repeats this process until all your hair is secured.

“While you sleep tonight, your hair shall dry and set into the curls,” Gwen says, looking at you through the mirror, a hand on your shoulder. “Take them out tomorrow and see. It might look silly at first, as they will require a fair bit of brushing, but I think you will like the result,”

You reach up and rest your hand over Gwen’s. “Thank you for this,”

“You are welcome,” She smiles. “I shall leave you to enjoy the rest of your night. I might stop by tomorrow to see how our little experiment has gone,”

~

After breakfast the next morning, you return to the mirror and remove the rags from your hair, revealing tight ringlets. You are alarmed at first, but remember what Gwen said about brushing, so you pick up your hairbrush from beside the basin and begin working on your hair. At first, the curls seem to just bounce back to exactly how they were once the brush has run through them, but after a time, you notice them begin to soften.

After about fifteen minutes of continuous brushing, the hair has taken on some kind of style. You put down the brush and turn your head side to side, inspecting yourself in the mirror. You still look odd compared to other women about the castle, but… perhaps you could be seen like this?

You rush from your bedchamber and grab your unfinished gown, returning to hold it in front of you before the mirror. With a little squinting and imagination, you envision the final look and think it may just work. You leave your bedchamber again, gown draped over one arm, with a renewed vigour for sewing, when there’s a knock at your door. Placing the gown down, you move to answer it, before remembering your hair and stopping in your tracks.

“Who is it?” You call out.

“It’s Gwen,” A voice says from the other side of the door.

You continue to the door and open it, Gwen gasping when she sees you.

“(Y/N), that looks lovely!”

You grin and show her inside, closing the door behind her.

“I just came by to see how it went, but I can see right away that it’s gone very well!” She beams.

“You think so?”

“I do!”

“So, you think I could go to the feast like this?”

“(Y/N), you can go to the feast however you like. I know you are afraid of being different, but different doesn’t mean bad. I don’t believe anyone there will think poorly of you. If anything, they will be intrigued by your unique beauty,”

You chuckle. “I’m not so sure about that,”

A thought occurs to you and in an instant, your newfound excitement dissipates. There could be someone there who thinks very poorly of you.

“Will Gwaine’s sister be at the feast?” You ask.

Gwen frowns. “The nobility are invited, so I suppose she will be,”

“I can’t possibly go if she is going to be there,” You shake your head and begin to pace.

“I’m sure you will still have a good time,”

“I don’t think I could have a good time with her there. I wouldn’t be able to ignore her, I’d be waiting for her to say something unkind, or do something. Who knows, she might purposely spill her wine on my gown or something,”

“I’m sorry, (Y/N). I wish I could tell her she can’t attend, but I’m afraid I cannot,” Gwen purses her lips thoughtfully. “Perhaps I could engage her in conversation for the whole evening, so she won’t have the chance to do or say anything to you,”

You cease your pacing. “But then your night would be unpleasant,”

Gwen shrugs. “I have gotten rather good at talking to people I don’t like since becoming queen,”

“I don’t know,” You sigh. “That is a kind offer Gwen, thank you, but I think I should work this out myself,”

“Alright, but please don’t let the prospect of Erika being there quell your excitement. Your hair is going to look beautiful, and I can already tell that your gown is going to be stunning. Not to mention, you’ll be going with Sir Gwaine. He’s known for being lots of fun, not to mention the fact that he adores you. Everything will work out,” Gwen smiles and gives your arm a reassuring squeeze. “But if you are still feeling apprehensive, please talk to Gwaine about it. Don’t keep your feelings to yourself, alright?”

“Alright,” You nod. “I will speak with him today,”

“Good,” Gwen smiles. “I shall leave you to it,”

~

After working on your gown for another two hours or so, you leave your chambers to see Gwaine.

You reach his door, raising your hand to knock, but falter. You shouldn’t bother him with this. It’s your issue, so you should work it out for yourself. Besides, what do you expect him to do? You lower your hand and turn around, taking a few steps back the way you came, when you hear a door unlatch and someone call your name. You turn around to see Gwaine standing at his chamber door.

“Is everything alright?” He asks.

“Yes, I’m fine,” You force a smile.

Upon hearing approaching footsteps, you turn to see Sir Elyan striding down the corridor. He nods in your direction and smiles.

“Good day, (Y/N),” He says, before disappearing into presumably his own chambers.

Gwaine steps out into the corridor, dressed very casually in his grey tunic and trousers, with only socks covering his feet, and closes the gap between you.

“If there’s something on your mind, I’m happy to hear it,” He offers.

The sound of approaching chatter has you turn around again to see Sirs Leon and Percival appear at the end of the corridor. They incline their heads in your direction as they advance, as Sir Elyan did.

“Good morning, (Y/N),” Leon says kindly.

His hair is damp, some of his curls sticking to his sweaty forehead. They must have just come back from training.

“I hope you’re well?” Percival says from beside Leon, with a grin, his gaze flicking between you and Gwaine beside you.

“I am well, thank you,” You reply.

Gwaine grimaces and watches his comrades until they enter their respective chambers, before addressing you again.

“Would you like to come inside?” He takes a step back toward his chamber door. “Then we might have some privacy,” His eyes flick to the entrances to the other knights’ rooms.

You nod and follow him inside, where he invites you to sit at the table. You take a seat and he closes the door before sitting down across from you.

“I shouldn’t bother you with it,” You say quietly.

“(Y/N),” Gwaine smiles sadly. “You never have, and never could, bother me. What’s the matter?”

You sigh. “I just realised today that… well, it hadn’t occurred to me that Erika would be at the harvest feast,”

“Ah,” Gwaine crosses his arms. “I spoke with her today,”

“You did? What about?”

“Just… everything you and I spoke of. I suppose I wanted to confront her, but also try to understand why she did what she did,”

“I see,”

“I needn’t speak of it,” Gwaine shakes his head.

“No… I would like to know what she had to say for herself,”

“Alright,” Gwaine straightens in his chair. “It turns out she’s been bitter all these years about me leaving home when I did. She felt I left her to fend for herself, while I had an easy escape. She’s been cruel to you because you make me happy and she thinks I don’t deserve to be happy. She came to Camelot to try to find a place for herself here. Supposedly none of the men back home are good enough for her,”

“When I overheard her in the courtiers’ wing, her companion mentioned something about Erika’s ‘quest’, and Erika replied, saying something about someone falling in love with her,”

Gwaine nods. “She’s been speaking to the other knights, clearly trying to gain their favour. Leon, Percival and Elyan have all had her approach them. They’ve all managed to shrug her off, though she was quite persistent for a time,”

“So, she was hoping to secure one of the knights and what, get married and live in Camelot? What about your mother?”

“If Erika was to settle here, I would see about finding a place for my mother as well. That is if she’d even want to live here,”

“Why wouldn’t she? Isn’t she in, please excuse the term, a reduced position?”

“Not so much anymore,”

You raise your brows in question.

“Since I became a knight,” Gwaine continues. “I’ve been sending her a portion of my wages in an attempt to better her and Erika’s circumstances,”

“And still Erika treats you so poorly?”

Gwaine shrugs. You reach a hand across the table and he places one of his own around it.

“Sending part of my wages was the least I could do after I ran away. There was no money being sent to them then,”

“You mustn’t punish yourself for your past mistakes, especially since you are doing what you can now,”

“You are kind to say so,” He gives your hand a gentle squeeze. “Anyway, back to the matter at hand: Erika being at the feast,”

“Do you think she’ll behave, now that you’ve spoken to her?”

Gwaine sighs, running a hand over his chin. “I don’t know. She never actually said she was sorry,”

“Oh,” Your heart sinks.

“I’ll work something out,” He strokes the back of your hand with his thumb. “I won’t let anyone spoil our night,”

~

Gwaine waits beside the courtyard steps, greeting his fellow knights as they approach, chests heaving and brows sweaty from their afternoon training.

“Enjoy your respite while you can, Gwaine,” Percival grins, giving Gwaine a playful slap on the shoulder as he passes.

About a quarter of an hour goes by, and the man he’s been waiting for comes into view, a bundle of swords and shields slung over his back.

“Merlin!” Gwaine calls out as he crosses the courtyard to meet his friend. “Let me help you with that,”

“You shouldn’t, it could aggravate your injury,” Merlin says in a strained voice.

“I think I can manage carrying a few swords,” Gwaine says, already taking some from Merlin’s bundle.

Merlin nods in thanks and keeps walking.

“Everything alright?” He asks as they climb the courtyard steps.

“Yes and no,” Gwaine replies. “(Y/N) is going to the feast with me,”

“I heard,” Merlin grins. “I’m glad you two were able to sort things out,”

Gwaine smiles. “Me too. There is a problem though. My sister is going to be there and it’s making (Y/N) anxious. Honestly, it’s making me anxious too,”

“You’re worried she’ll try to ruin yours and (Y/N)’s night?” Merlin asks, stepping inside the castle and turning down a passage.

“I am,”

“What are you going to do?”

“I wondered if you, being the physician’s apprentice, might know of something that could… prevent Erika from attending,”

Merlin stops in his tracks. “What, like poison?” He says in an alarmed whisper.

“No! Who do you think I am, Merlin?” Gwaine shakes his head, wide-eyed. “I mean something that might make her a bit… unwell, or unsightly, so she won’t want to be seen in public,”

Merlin purses his lips thoughtfully. “Leave it to me,”

[imgeekgirlfan]

The Curse of Cassandra [EP : VII]

Read in Ao3 : here

Pairings:  Qimir x f!reader(SEA Reader)  [The Acolyte]

Content Rating : Mature 18+  Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warning (AT YOUR OWN RISK)

tags/themes : Alternate Universe - Dune & Star wars, Partners in Crime, Strangers to Lovers

Summary: You start a new life on the planet Olega with the man you love. If your life were a novel, this would be the happy ending. But fate never lets you rest. One day, you find yourself facing three unfamiliar Jedi, and one of them, a Jedi Knight named Yord, captures your attention in an inexplicable way.

Status: finished writing this fic! (It will end in Episode 14)

A/N : Since there are more chapters now, if you don’t want to miss any updates, you can ask me to add your username for notifications whenever a new chapter is posted. Just let me know in a reply, and I’ll make sure you’re included in the next update.

ps. I'll be in Singapore for the F1 from this Thursday until next Tuesday, so I'll pause updating my fic for one week. I hope you can wait patiently.

➡  Intro // EP : 1 // EP : 2 // EP : 3 // EP : 4 // EP : 5 // EP : 6 // EP : 8 // EP : 9 // EP : 10 // EP : 11 // EP : 12 // EP : 13 // EP : 14 (Completed)

Special OS : Phantom Thread

[Episodes 7] It is impossible to live in the past, difficult to live in the present, and a waste to live in the future.

It’s often said that the safest place is also the most dangerous one. 

Perhaps that’s why Qimir chose to remain hidden on Olega, despite it being home to the Jedi Temple, a major stronghold of the galaxy’s peacekeepers.

For most people, there was no reason to fear the Jedi, who were meant to protect them from harm. But that wasn’t the case for you. You remembered well what Qimir had told you: the Jedi were looking for you, too. Even though their exact motives remained unclear, the sense of paranoia never left your mind. Especially after the massacre on Tatooine, you and Qimir felt like fugitives—always just one step away from being caught if any evidence linking you to the crime surfaced and exposed your secret.

You hated being here. Given a choice, you would have fled to some remote planet at the edge of the galaxy. But Qimir had different ideas. “Most of those who know about your bounty are outlaws or trade federations. Neither group gets along with the Jedi, so they won’t be snooping around places where Jedi gather,” he reasoned. “And the Jedi? They’re too preoccupied with galactic affairs to pay much attention to the planet they’re on. Besides, you don’t have the Force, so finding you would be like searching for a needle in a haystack.”

Qimir wasn’t wrong. Life on Olega had turned out to be unexpectedly peaceful. Despite the city’s persistent chaos, it made hiding much easier. You and Qimir had managed to stay under the radar for over a year without major problems. Everything had settled so seamlessly that you almost forgot what it was like to be on the run from other planets.

With no need to keep moving, Qimir had shifted from his life as an illegal mercenary to opening a modest pharmacy. He also worked as a broker, selling medicines and various odds and ends to travelers passing through. Meanwhile, you had taken on the role of his assistant and personal apprentice. Qimir was dedicated to teaching you both the theory and practice of his knowledge, especially in combat. He also encouraged you to continue developing your powers rather than suppressing them as you had before. Like your mother, Qimir believed your abilities were too valuable to be wasted.

“Haven’t you ever thought,” Qimir once said, “that someone like you could rise to replace the Jedi one day? With your power, you could bring far more to the galaxy than they ever could.”

His words seemed absurd, like a far-fetched joke meant to tease you. You laughed every time, confident that such a thing would never happen.

Never getting involved with the Jedi, no matter what, had always been your rule for survival.

But sometimes, fate can be cruelly ironic, and this was a joke that wasn’t amusing at all.

That's what occurs at noon on a Friday—one of fate's cruel jokes when you unexpectedly find yourself face-to-face with a group of Jedi.

It all takes place at Qimir’s pharmacy on a day he isn’t around. Lately, he has been disappearing more frequently—sometimes for two or three hours, or even the better part of a day—claiming he has business to attend to involving herbal shipments from other planets. As a result, you’re left to run the store in his absence, handling the medicines and assisting customers as usual.

But everything changes the moment the shop’s bell rings and the door swings open. Brilliant sunlight floods the store, heralding the arrival of three strangers you’ve never seen before.

One of them is a teenage theelin-human hybrid girl, with paper-white skin adorned with spots and orange hair with small horns encircling her head like a crown. The other two are human men—one middle-aged, with long black hair tied in a half-ponytail, his face stern and serious; the other younger, with sharp features, sun-bronzed skin, and a tall, muscular frame, likely not much older than you.

They couldn’t be more different from each other, except for their identical attire. They’re dressed in light yellow tunics, covered by long brown robes, and each wears a large belt with the unmistakable emblem of the Jedi Order.

Jedi—The realization hits you like a bolt of lightning the moment your eyes land on their belts, and you instinctively draw in a sharp breath.

You quickly wipe your sweaty palms on your skirt, composing yourself with practiced ease. Lifting your head from behind the counter, you address them with a polite, businesslike smile. “How may I assist the three of you today?”

The older man, likely a Jedi Master, introduces himself with courtesy as Sol, while the young girl, his Padawan, is named Jecki. The other young man, a Jedi Knight, is introduced as Yord. “We’re here on a mission,” Sol informs you, his voice laced with concern. “We’re investigating a serious incident that occurred in this city.”

You have no idea what serious incident he’s referring to or how severe it must be to involve the Jedi. For a moment, your mind jumps to the possibility that it might be connected to you—until Jecki explains further, warning you to keep the information strictly confidential.

It turns out that the serious incident is a series of murders currently happening on Olega. Four bodies in four months—each victim a high-ranking Jedi responsible for overseeing the temple here.

"Since the incident is still recent, the killer might be someone who just moved here or snuck into the city illegally," Sol continues. "There are many of these types around the spaceports, which is why we need to increase security in those areas to ensure the safety of the citizens."

You can tell Sol's words hold only a half truth. The Jedi aren't particularly concerned about the lives of citizens since the killer's targets are not random people but specifically high-ranking Jedi.

The presence of the three Jedi at the pharmacy today is no coincidence. As a newcomer here, you're automatically placed among the suspects, though none of them have the nerve to say it outright to your face.

Understanding this, you begin to relax a little. After all, you have nothing to do with these murders, so there's no reason to worry. You just need to play along with the Jedi's charade until it's over.

Sol, the group's leader, takes charge of questioning you, with Jecki also taking part in the interrogation. Most of their questions are basic: had you noticed anything strange or seen any unusual people recently? They also delve into your personal history—your identity, background, and reasons for ending up on this planet.

You respond naturally, mixing truth with lies, careful not to arouse suspicion. You're confident in your ability to act convincingly—that is, until you sense the sharp gaze of the one Jedi in the group who hasn’t said a word.

You furrow your brow, the intense scrutiny from the Jedi named Yord making you increasingly uncomfortable. You try to ignore him, but there's something inexplicably magnetic about his presence—an instinctive urge that draws you to meet his gaze.

At first, you think he's trying to catch you in a lie, but when you see his expression, you're surprised.

He’s not scrutinizing you for deception—he’s staring at you in shock, as if you’re some kind of ghost.

As you peer deeply into his brown eyes with curiosity, time seems to stretch unnaturally long. You find yourself not looking at the present but plunging into the past. Every moment flashes before your eyes like pages of a book flipping by—one year, ten years, a hundred years, up to a thousand years.

Suddenly, your consciousness is yanked back to the present. You startle as your entire body trembles with the icy chill sweeping over you. Pain surges through you like a jolt of electricity, followed by the sticky sensation of blood trickling from your nose.

You know exactly what’s happening. The side effects of your vision are punishing you for seeing what was not meant to be seen.

Closing your eyes, you take slow, deep breaths, trying to steady yourself and acclimate to the pain. As your senses return, you hear Sol’s concerned voice. "Are you all right?"

"I’m fine," you quickly reply, shaking your head while wiping the blood from your nose with a handkerchief. You feign composure, even though the lingering pain continues to gnaw at you from within.

Sol looks at you with disbelief, but he doesn’t press further. His face betrays concern, and you can’t help but think how fitting he is as a Jedi. His every gesture screams 'purity' If goodness had a color, this man would be the brightest white—so blinding it hurts to look at.

The awkward silence breaks as Sol clears his throat, returning to the topic at hand. “We still don’t have any more leads on the perpetrator, other than the fact that they’re highly skilled with weapons—probably a former soldier or maybe...” He trails off, as if he almost let something slip, but catches himself just in time. "Anyway, if you find any suspicious leads, don’t hesitate to contact me or any other Jedi.”

You watch as Sol places a thin metal card on the counter before bidding you farewell with the classic phrase, "May the Force be with you." He and the other Jedi then leave the pharmacy quietly.

You reach for the card, running your fingers along its cold metallic edge. Upon closer inspection, you realize it’s an electronic contact card, storing his information. The front clearly reads, ‘Sol, Human, Jedi Master.

For a brief moment, you consider throwing it far away, but something compels you to tuck it into your pocket instead.

The sun slowly sinks, signaling the approach of evening. Hours have passed, but you're still lost in thought, pondering the group of Jedi you encountered—especially Sol’s story of the horrifying Jedi murder case. Though it has nothing to do with you directly, you can't shake the unease creeping into your mind. It's an inexplicable feeling of foreboding, devoid of any logical reason, as if instinct itself is whispering from deep within, warning you to be cautious. Yet you have no idea what or whom you should be wary of.

And then, there's another matter weighing heavily on your mind—the Jedi Knight named Yord.

His name has settled deep into your thoughts, etched onto your lips. A strange sense of familiarity fills your chest, as though you’ve known him before, despite seeing his face and hearing his name for the first time today.

How odd you think, fragments of a past you can barely recall flicker in your mind, disjointed and unclear. You want to focus your power on a vision, to delve deeper into the memory, but your body is too frail. It would only bring more pain. All you can do now is predict the hazy path of the future, as far as your bruised mind will allow.

You close your eyes, adjusting your breathing to a slow, steady rhythm. You let your mind sink into the stream of consciousness of possible futures.

There’s a ninety percent chance.

Certainty rises inside you—the answer you seek will come when you meet him again... soon.

The Bene Gesserit meditation gradually envelops your mind, nurturing it with such calm and a cold, almost numb detachment. Your fingers gently brush against the knife hidden in your cloak, recognizing that it may become necessary if things spiral out of control.

You step toward the front door of the shop, hand reaching for the handle, but a sudden hesitation grips you, freezing you in place.

A moment of silence surrounds you. You feel like a fish swimming towards a hook, drawn into a dangerous situation you shouldn't be involved with. The closer you get, the harder it becomes to turn back.

But in the end, you open the door anyway.

You stand there, waiting for something to happen. It doesn’t take long before someone grabs your arm, pulling you swiftly into the narrow alley beside the shop, hidden from the bustling street.

Your back hits the wooden wall of a nearby house—not hard enough to hurt, but enough to knock the wind out of you. You look up, meeting Yord's eyes with a calm expression, showing no sign of surprise. You know he is waiting for you, just as you are waiting for him.

“Be careful. You’re in a place you shouldn’t be,” he warns in a firm voice. “Get out while you still can.”

That’s all he says before releasing your shoulder and quickly walking back to the street, disappearing into the crowd while you stay still, watching his broad back in the yellow Jedi uniform fade from view.

In that moment, it's as if a veil of uncertainty is lifted, revealing a truth you had suspected before.

You are certain now. That Jedi can see the future—just like you.[1]

Footnotes:

[1] In Star Wars canon, some Jedi can see the future, but only a few—usually masters with strong Force abilities like Yoda (though as he got older, his visions became less reliable). You can see that Jedi powers and the Bene Gesserit abilities are somewhat similar (because Dune inspired Star Wars). However, in this fic, the author wanted to create a special distinction between the Reader (who is a Bene Gesserit) and the Jedi, so regular Jedi can’t have visions like the Reader. Yord’s case is unique and will have significant importance to the plot later on.

[glaciertea]

Masterlist here~

Tales the Songs Weave

Ch.9<< >>Ch.11

Notes: You and Miguel are together.

CW: He will smell something coming off of you, Miguel does have anger issues

Chapter 10: Same Way That the Stars Adorn the Sky...

Word count: 6.1K

Nearly a month passed as you and Miguel began to date. Well, as far as dating goes, there technically weren't any labels attached, but you assumed it was because Miguel was nervous about hopping into a relationship after so long.

You two still did the lovey-dovey couple activities; you were just strings attached with and without the string. Highly confusing, but you didn't mind.

Tapping your foot along to your music, you cook up some shrimp-fried rice. You came to realize that his job tends to hold him back, and you understood. Being a high-ranking worker and a hero can consume anyone's time, so who were you to be upset if he showed up late?

Especially when you took into consideration that he was missing hours to be with you when you would hang out every Wednesday night before.

You felt there was no reason to complain.

You got into the music more and more. You began to twirl and slide across the floor as if no one was watching you.

“You look so adorable dancing around.”

You jumped out of your skin as Miguel leaned against the pantry door.

“Miggy! I swear!” You feigned a grumpy pout as Miguel couldn't help but grin.

“I didn't hear you come in! Did you use my window again?” You turned one of the stove dials down, rotating over to him.

He just blinked and shrugged his shoulders. He was guilty.

“I made you a custom key and everything, and you still insist on using the window?” You tried to keep up the upset charade.

“I prefer it. It's more convenient to me.”

There was a day when Miguel stumbled through the window, gravely injured with a giant gash wound near his chest. You remembered freaking out, wondering why he didn't go to his job.

Apparently, he set his watch to go straight to your place after the mission was over but didn't take into account the collateral damage that was going to beseech him.

Miguel didn't have time to head to HQ, so he painstakingly taught you how to close it up just enough so it could revitalize properly on its own. With a first-aid kit, a fresh sewing needle, and thread you got from your job, you went to work.

Your hands never felt that steady in your life. You didn't realize how much blood a human could hold... or how much puke you'd held back after finishing.

You made sure to vomit when he was deeply asleep.

He ended up replacing your entire mattress, managing to find the exact bedsheets you had owned.

But ever since, he's been crawling through that window, no matter how much you whine about it.

“Miggy. The door.”

“Mi corazón.” He dragged out your nickname.

“I have a door right there. See, see! Door!” You expressively gestured toward it.

“Corazón!” He pushed himself off the pantry, entrapping you in a bear hug, and lifted you up with ease. “Mi chula. Mi adorable corazón.”

He trailed kisses from your forehead down to your neck as you rapidly patted his shoulders, laughing loudly.

“No, no, stop! That tickles! Miggy!” You squealed harder as Miguel tickled your sides, making you squirm. 

“He-hey! Not fair.” You giggled as Miguel went to kiss your neck again, randomly pausing.

He got a whiff of something. Something strong. 

“Miggy? You okay?” You calmed down and caught your breath as Miguel buried his head deeper into the crook of your neck. “Miggy?”

You've never seen him do something like this before, and it started to raise alarms. Miguel sniffed you and released a groan. Feeling the vibrations in his chest, his grip was gradually getting tighter. 

“Corazón…” Miguel grunted before snapping out of his haze. “¡Mierda! Lo siento mucho, corazón, no era mi intención hacer eso, algo se hizo cargo y no sé qué–” 

He placed you back on the floor before you lightly whacked his chest. “Hey, hey, it's okay. As long as you're okay. So, are you okay?”

Miguel gave a troubled nod. You motioned for him to come to you, to which he obliged. He bent over just enough so you could reach him. Holding his head, you gave him two pecks on the forehead, then pressed yours to it.

“Good, I'm glad you're okay. Now come on, the food should be ready.” You smiled brightly before giving him one more kiss on the lips.

Miguel still wasn't managing the relationship aspect well for himself. He was tremendously grateful for you enduring his moments and tendencies; however, he was still nervous about hurting you. 

“How was work today? You are a bit earlier than usual. I had a weird hunch that would happen too, so thank goodness I cooked when I did.”

Miguel collapsed on your couch, a habit he picked up even before you got together, and massaged his temples.

“Where do I even begin? We had two anomalies stuck on E-374, so that meant double the workers in that case, and I had to be there for that. What should have been an hour's work ended up turning into three when Jess's new rookie decided to do her own thing instead of following directions!”

You handed him his serving as he thanked you and hurriedly sat up to give you room to sit.

“Oh, the ghost teen? Yeah, teens tend to want to try and venture on their own path. Like any child, they require a lot of patience. Especially teens.”

Crossing your legs on the couch, you both began to devour the meal.

“I try to give them the patience; it's just so hard when you hand them those simple tasks and they still try to be all rebellious and diverge!” Miguel complained in-between bites.

“You're telling me you weren't a rebellious teen?” You placed a hand on your hip.

“No, I wasn't.” Miguel pushed his plate onto the table and crossed his arms.

A smug smile appeared on your face.

“Okay, yes, but that's different. What about you, then? Even though you wouldn't have struck me as one.”

“Hey! I did some rebellious things! I knew where the liquor cabinet was.”

“And did you drink any?” He picked his meal back up.

“Yes! I had a sip–then decided to wait until the legal drinking age. Oh, oh! I did sneak out once. But then they had to turn around fifteen minutes later because I kept crying about getting caught. Then there was that one time I asked permission about sneaking out…”

“My thoughts exactly. You were a good teen who followed directions! If only they were like you, I wouldn't have to deal with this.”

“But that's it; they're not like me. Like how you're not like me, and vice versa. We may have similar viewpoints about things, but we're our own individuals who are still learning to this very day, particularly teens. It's why they need patience so they can grow and understand the world around them.”

You stood up to grab water bottles. “You just have to explain your side.”

“I do!” He took the two bottles from your outstretched hand and opened one up.

“Without getting upset, listen to theirs. She probably saw something you didn't see, but the ideas may have clashed. We had our moments like that.”

“But the difference is that you actually hear what I have to say.” 

You smiled and bumped his shoulder, minding his meal and drink. “Well, I also don't get the yelling end. Perhaps that's why it's easier for us.”

“Why would I yell at you? You wouldn't do anything that would warrant it. In fact, I would never raise my voice at you.”

A small curve formed on your lips as you remembered the time Miguel mistakenly butt-dialed you as you heard Miguel shouting at Peter B. about him bringing his baby again on a mission. It was a chaotic five minutes of squealing laughter from a child and Peter and Miguel going back and forth.

Miguel had the urge to recoil until his body blipped out of existence when you told him. After that commotion, it worried you, so you taught him some breathing techniques if he ever felt that rise of aggravation begin to bubble.

It's been semi-helpful for him. He didn't realize how much he had to use to control his temper.

As a few hours crept by, Miguel's watch blared during the middle of a film you both decided to mindlessly check out.

“Miguel! We need you! Strong Sandman variant in E-2230! Truck. Truck! Hurry, Miguel!” An unfamiliar voice sprang out from the communicator as absolute chaos resounded in the background.

“Ay dios mío. ¿Puedo simplemente relajarme por el día?” He glided his hands through his curls. “¿Por un día?”

“Sounded pretty serious.” You nestled yourself into the soft blanket you were sharing beforehand.

“I guess it is if they need me.” He materialized his suit, leaving the mask off, and released a displeasing gruff.

“Still on for that rooftop date this week?” You pulled your body up so you were standing on the couch long enough to reach him.

“I'll see what I can do, corazón. It's just tough to make time now with all that's going on, and I ju-” 

You stole a kiss from him. “You know, I'll understand if we have to postpone. Now go out there and be the good guy that you are.”

You affectionately rested your forehead on his, garnering a smile from him.

“Gracias, mi corazón.”

“Of course, and use the door! The door–Miggy! The door. The door!”

Miguel sprinted towards your bedroom and right towards the window. “In a rush, mi corazón! More convenient!”

And with that, he was swinging into the city's night. You gave a bemused smile before laughing to yourself, resting on the wooden sill, gazing out over Nueva York's luminous view.

Miguel chuckled to himself as he grappled and flung from lamppost to building. He wanted to revel in the moment, especially after spending time with you, but his comrades wouldn't allow it as his wristwatch beeped and blared again.

Grating his teeth, he spawned a portal in mid-air and leapt right through. For once, he weirdly felt prepared to take on this situation. That's a common reaction, but now he seemed unstoppable.

This was the dynamic. You and Miguel appeared more lively—well, as lively as Miguel can get.

Ronnie nearly ecstatically backflipped off the shop's roof when you first told her you and Miguel were together.

You made sure to leave the Spider-Man part out.

And the spiders detected that Miguel didn't get irked as much. He still has his pissy moments, but they came off oddly tame.

Snuggling in your favorite cover, you stared at the sky. You focused your eyes on locating any other stars but found difficulty as the light pollution canceled it out.

“I swear one of these days I'm going to move out of the city.” You huff, rubbing your arms.

He was running late, but you didn't mind. You couldn't fully comprehend his work or what he exactly does, yet you were aware of the on-demand position he faced, and he was definitely worth the wait. 

Shutting your eyes and taking in the crisp air, you visualized an iridescent flare covered in a multitude of tinier colors.

“Hola, mi Miggy.” Your voice held that delight.

Miguel eyed you from behind, as he could picture the smile you were giving.

“Mi corazón. I'm so sorry I'm late! I got caught up in another mission. This time I was stuck with the cockney punk, Peter, and Jess's apprentice. Lo juro, estoy tratando de escucharlos, corazón, de verdad, es cuando hacen estup-”

“Come sit down, Miggy.” You tapped the empty spot next to you, not peering back.

Miguel didn't bother to phase his suit away and took the hint. You encased him in the blanket and cuddled up in his chest. Eyeing his state, his suit was a bit dusty; attempts at freshening up the sweat, the cuts, and dried blood. His gleaming, tanned skin bathed in the moonlight.

He was a rich, fine painting.

“You don't have to apologize, you know. If that were the case, it'd be an endless loop.” You knocked your head on his muscular arm.

“I knew what I was getting into. As long as I get to be with you, I'm fine if you're late. If it's one hour or two, hell, even eight, it'll be alright.”

“The forbearance of a saint. I swear, you make it seem so easy.” Miguel wrapped his arm around you, dragging you closer.

“Well, it's not something you wake up with one day. Just a commodity I've learned from years of what I've seen and gone through.”

Checking the time, you slapped at his thigh a bit. “Give me ten minutes. I'm going to run and make us some tea. I also made some cookies! Uh, the pre-made dough kind. I would've baked some, but I couldn't overcome the case of... laziness.”

He gave a slanted smile and whiffed a chuckle out. “That's fine, corazón. Take your time.”

With a cheer, you rushed down to your place as Miguel zoned out the minute you were out of sight.

This is what he should be used to. This is what he wants to be used to. No troubles, no pestering from spiders that do whatever they please, no anomalies, and no daunting pressure about a universe collapsing.

Even though it's wedged permanently into a part of his brain, it partially dwindles into a bean-sized thought when he's beside you. Whenever he's ready to see you, his heart and stomach flutter in anticipation.

Your smile, laughter, kindness, affection, and more embellish his formidable and stressful life. It's to the point where he daydreams about a future with you. He notes it to be utterly pathetic, as if he's some hopeless romantic. But he just can't stop the thoughts.

Living in a gorgeous, rustic farmhouse by a lake. A garden spirited with fresh fruits, vegetables, and flowers as his children pluck away weeds or harvest some of the delicious foods for the night's dinner.

As the heat passes through, he'll bring out some fresh lemonade as his kids dash in his direction, laughing with your smile. They'll chug it down and immediately want to wrestle before you warn them not to, as they just drank, and it'll make them sick.

They’ll share a calming moment before joining back together and helping in the mini-farmland. He's one with peace—a warmth he hasn't been acquainted with in so long. He'll look up, his heart melting as the kids' curiosity seeps through, and you'll answer, giving your words of compassion and wisdom.

He'll be happy. At that moment, he was happy. In this moment, he wants to be-

“Miggy? You okay?”

Miguel, containing his discomfiting reaction, turned over to the voice. You'd held a tray with a plate full of gooey chocolate-chip cookies and two mugs with steam flowing out of them.

“Si, corazón. Going over the assignment from earlier. Thinking how it could've gone smoother.”

Placing the tray in front, you carefully handled his tea and settled it in his hands.

“I'm sure everything went well, Miggy. You got that wicked, intellectual, massive brain power going on up there. Knowing all those big boys science and math to help you out!”

Miguel didn't know, but rather to be fazed or amused by that, before a hardy laugh broke out.

“Big boy science and math?”

“Yeah. Especially math, because you calculate the problems!” Your eyes crinkled as you granted him a giant, wide-mouthed smile.

Miguel sat the tea beside him and rested his claws over his face. An absurd, muffled wail of agony escaped the man as he shook his head.

“Ay dios mío–where's the suit? You must be hiding it somewhere.”

He cradled you in his arms and pokes your sides as snorts of laughter spewed out from you. You both eventually recovered from the antics and munched on a few cookies while sipping the herbal tea.

“Oh, hey, it's the start of a new month. A new beginning.” You signal at the waning crescent and lone star.

Miguel stalks to where your attention was directed, as his eyes go back and forth between the two.

“I know about the new month and how it signifies the time change, but new beginnings?”

“Mhm. In a way, a new month is the start of something fresh. When you close the last day of the month, the calendar rolls over to a whole different part.”

You take a sip of your beverage.

“Sure, the days and months are the same every day of every year, but when they change, so can life. The moon and star can start and continue a story, but the chapters will be different. Progress! Progress will always be made, no matter how you look at it.”

Miguel sat his mug down. He let your words sink into his depths as he took your views into consideration.

“Do you think I have progressed?”

“For the month? Yeah, they're small but still noticeable. I've noticed you have been doing the breathing exercises whenever something irks you. You say what's on your mind a bit more, which I'm really happy for.”

You snuggle next to him, your head near his pec.

“You slightly ask for more help instead of struggling because of that control you try to unhealthily keep fed. You take my compliments a bit better; you still have moments of rejecting them, but it's still a good step.” You placed your mug next to his.

“You know, now that I say all that out loud, they're bigger progressions than tiny ones from my standpoint.” You giggled as Miguel just stared.

“Miggy, is everything okay? I didn't upset you, did I?”

He only shook his head, placing your hands in his. “I-I just remembered something I read a long time ago.”

Squeezing his hands, you waited for him to speak his mind.

“Osram ne nsoromma. The moon and star also represent love, faithfulness, and harmony. The symbol represents a bond between two lovers. It's usually for marriage, but I now believe it can go even further.”

Your heart raced as your mouth gaped open. “Miguel…”

“Luna. Mi Luna. Corazón, you are my moon. Whenever you illuminate the night's sky, I will always be there, right next to you or all around.”

He caressed your cheek as he wiped a tear away.

“How do you say star in Spanish?”

“Estrella.”

“Mi Estrella, my star. The moon and star. Even if all the other lights try to hide them, they will manage to shine the brightest.”

Your lips met in a fiery, impassioned kiss, entangled in an embrace that you both refused to separate from.

“I swear… we are so cheesy like year-old cheddar.” You dried your eyes, as more teardrops flowed and a shiver of laughter escaped from you.

“Si, mi Luna, but if it's near you, I would be the cheesiest cheese in the entire universe.”

Miguel pulled you up and tightly hugged you. He embedded his face in the crook of your neck and lightly kissed it. Trembling on the flurries from his lips, a whimper leaves your mouth.

Then that scent punched his nostrils. 

“Corazón…”

A strangled moan escaped from Miguel. His grasp refused to loosen. His tongue was swirling and teasingly gliding against your delicate skin.

You forced your squeaks back, as you didn't want anyone to hear you both up there. But when he grazed his fangs against your skin, a whiny cry found its way out. Miguel slipped his claws under the hems of your shirt, faintly nicking your flesh with his talons.

“Mi corazón. Hueles tan delicioso. Tu aroma perfecto y tu piel aterciopelada es adictiva, mi Luna.”

“Mi-Miguel, wa-wait. Fuck–Mm!” You bit your tongue, mewls coming from your throat as you gripped his hair.

His calloused fingers left circled patterns over your waist, his teeth sinking into your supple skin, nipping and sucking roughly. His claws sneakily palmed your breasts, squeezing the wretched fabric that stood in between him and your lovely mounds.

“Mi Estrella–” you slurred in lust, your mind racing in rounds until it was dizzy.

Miguel removed his mouth, and a giant reddish-purple splotch lay proudly for all to see.

He grabbed your sides, mindful of his sharp nails. His dangerous, carmine eyes pierced into yours. You stared back, heaving, as Miguel brought his thumbs down to your puffy lips, parting them with ease. Your tongue marginally slipped out, an indication he took to run them down your glossy appendage. Your breaths were ragged—how hot it was against his fingers.

He moved them away, causing you to whimper. Your aroma managed to become stronger, and that sprang another part out of him.

“Mi Luna is going through a time. She's about to begin... Mi corazón is going to start.” His husky voice huffed against your neck as you moaned out loudly.

He bundled up a portion of your hair, bringing your neck closer to his mouth, and bared his fangs. You quivered violently, petrified, and yet intoxicated, as you were ready to be bitten–

“¡Ah, mierda!”

Miguel yanked away, sporadic wheezing expelled from you both. Miguel drew back his claws, and you uncoordinatedly straightened your hair back to its original state.

You were a few inches apart as you two gazed out into the city's skylines.

You debated if you should question what happened but refrained from it and peeked over at him, observing his ashamed face. You could tell he was rebuking his actions mentally, and it crushed your soul.

“Don't, mi Estrella. I enjoyed it. I very much loved every second of it.” You filled that shred of space that he made between you two.

“Corazón, I nearly bit you. What if I accidentally punctured an artery? What if I hurt you? What if I-”

Thud.

Your forehead was on his, and your digits were kneading his shoulders to relax him.

“I know you wouldn't, Miggy. I trust you with my body. I know that's crazy to say, but I'm saying it because I'm comfortable around you. I know you'll never do anything to harm me in any way. Well–”

You leaned into his ear and licked his earlobe. “Unless I asked for it.”

An electric bolt shocked down his spine, making him grunt. His eyes were scanning yours, as he only saw that consideration and understanding. That love. That affection.

A string snapped to the ground.

“Come with me to my job.” Miguel snaked his arms around your waist, pulling you down.

Letting out a squeaky “oomph,” you landed on his hard chest. “Hu-huh?! Do what now?”

You balanced your elbows on his pecs and scooted your way to face him. 

“Come back to the HQ with me. Spend the night.”

You flickered your eyes, confused at so many things.

“Wait, wait. Several questions.”

“Alright, adelante.” He nodded to let you continue.

“One. You stay at your job? Two, spend the night tonight? Or another night tonight? Three, is that allowed? I know you can have visitors, but not after closing hours.”

“One, yes. I have an apartment near the top floor. Two, yes. Tonight. Three, I'm the leader; I'm allowed to bring in anyone.”

You couldn't argue with those results, but that angel on your shoulder was vocalizing their worries. “Fair, fair. We'll be okay, right?”

“Si, mi Luna, but we'll have to go through the back entrance.” Miguel arranged you so you were straddling in his lap.

“Not the front?” You angled your head upward.

“I don't want them harassing us both. They are a very nosy and gossiping bunch.”

Bowing your head, you began to gather the dishes. “Well, if that's the case, help me clean while I pack up some clothes! Do you think you'll be able to get me to work tomorrow?”

“If I can turn a forty-minute walk into ten, I can definitely get you there in the same amount of time or less.” Miguel swiped up the tray for you.

“Sounds like a plan! Alright, give me some time, and we can head on out.”

With a pep in your steps, you packed a small drawstring bag with your pajamas, extra clothes, and a few hygienic products.

Miguel proposed swinging you both over to the headquarters, just so you could become familiar with the process.

You loved that idea. Being lifted off the ground into the metropolis’ gleaning nightfall. The ambience that will ring around them.

Who would regret a choice such as that?

 

You regretted that choice.

 

Clinging onto his front for dear life as the winds violently whipped your hair and face. Screeching, you realized whiplash was certainly what you were going to feel as he propelled his body from building to building, with the occasional extreme free fall.

His claws were grating up the infrastructures before being aggressively snapped forward whenever he flung his neon web out.

No wonder he had you wear your bag upfront as he deathly tied the opening. All of your items would've been scattered across Nueva York like a scavenger hunt. 

Miguel touches down behind the tower with a powerful thump, his hand patting your back.

“Alright, we're here. You're okay, right?”

Skidding down his body, you dared not  speak one word, dropping down to the pavement floor on your hands and knees. You appeared as if you were a wet cat who just got pushed into the water.

“I love solid ground. I would make love to every inch of this sidewalk if given the possibility. Oh God, I'll just wake up early and walk to work. Yeah. Yeah, I'll go with that.”

Miguel rolled his eyes and puffed a chuckle out. He assisted you up, stabilizing you to make sure you reclaimed your bearings.

“Okay, but if you're running late, mi Luna, that'll be on you.”

You nuzzled your head into his torso, giggling into it. “I'll take the repercussions. But, if I'm desperate, I'll ask for the express pass.”

You bumped your hip into his side and looked up.

“So this is the place. Jeez, Miggy, how do you not get disoriented with this?”

Miguel shrugged his shoulders. “Second nature? You get used to these things.” He twisted his body around, making sure the coast was clear.

“Alright, let's head on in.”

Miguel took your hand into his and led you towards a narrow pathway with a singular street lamp illuminating a very unused pathway.

At first glance, it seems to be a regular wall that's attached to the building, but hidden away, tucked in a corner, were two steps leading to a single steel security door. It's blocked out, even from a bird's-eye view, just as he wanted it.

He specifically demanded to have a secret back entrance when he wanted to sneak away from it all. He scarcely uses it, but when the time is desperately desired, he heads on off. You observed as he punched a few buttons on a digital keypad, intrigued by the separate world behind that barrier.

Jitters snuck its way to you as he pulled the door open for you. You were ready to view the vast amounts of colorful spider-people swinging by and crawling up the walls from all sides.

Then your face dropped. Buzzing lights, white panels, and dirt-free, blue tiles underneath filled the hallway from as far as you could see.

“It looks like a bad clinic horror film.” You swirled your head from wall to wall.

“It's designed to be like this. It doesn't get any sort of traffic. Only two of us know about this. Well, three now, but I'm one of them. Come on.”

The walk seemed endless. The corridor looped endlessly for you as nothing changed. Finally entering a new section with spread-out hanging wires and brighter lights, a single door on wood panel partitions stared them down.

“Are there more apartments, or is it just yours?”

“There are spare rooms, but not like this.”

He fumbled for his key and opened it when new voices began to close in on your direction. Miguel shoved you in and briskly slammed the door shut.

“So after every mission, you have to make sure that you file a report in the system. That way, everything is orderly, and—oh, evening, Miguel.” Jess acknowledged her superior and pinned her hands to her hips.

A teen with half-shaven, ear-length blonde hair saluted Miguel, then immediately finger-gunned. “Evening, captain. Or do I call you Miguel? I'm still trying to figure that part out. The other spiders say leader; others say superior. I hear the vampire overlord from time to ti-”

“Gwen. Shut up.” Jess pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Shutting up.” She zipped her lip and pretended to throw away the key.

Miguel narrowed his eyes on her, still dissatisfied with the earlier events, even more so with the ‘vampire overlord’ nickname he didn't know about.

“Oh, Lord, anyways, I was meaning to contact you about you taking off right after the mission. You usually stay behind to make sure things are in proper order, but they said you just took off. What happened?” Jess dryly asked.

“I had to do more coding for a molecular device I'm wanting to use for the Go Home Machine. And I'm creating a new invention that will smooth and increase the portal's wrap speeds.”

Miguel leaned his back against the wall and glared at the two. “I wanted to jump back into it.”

“Oh, sweet, you are? Thank goodness, I swear, when I'm blasting through, my stomach feels as though it's being yanked out of the soul and the bod-”

“Gwen!” Jess turned to her with a disbelieving, scrunched frown.

“Gotta lock that key from me! Lock it up and just throw it. Okay, I'll just–” She nervously tittered before taking three steps back.

“Right. Miguel, you've been working on these projects for a while now. I've noticed the influx of days you've been missing to work on them. Look, if you need me to have Lyla or Spider-Byte assist you in the work, we can reduce their time on other proj-”

“I don't need assistance. I'm fine doing it by myself.” Miguel shoved himself off the hardwood.

“You say that, but for the past, what? For three and a half months, you've been working on these, and I'm hardly seeing any progress being made. Plus, the extra reports and anomaly cases have started piling up on my end. I've been telling you, Miguel, I need help.”

“They take time, Jess. I'm doing them. I just don't want to waste productivity on tedious paperwork.” He hissed, trying to curb his temper.

Lies. Lies. They were all lies, and he knew it.

“I know that stuff takes time, Miguel, but you promised that you wouldn't leave me in the open like this.”

“Jess, yes, I get it. I just need the time." Miguel's breathing picked up as Jess continued her tirade.

“I recall alerting you months prior that there's been rampant increases in anomaly activities. And I'm just alerting you now that the papers have been accumulating over the week, and I need you to-”

“JUST SEND THE DAMN REPORTS. I'LL DO THEM.”

He rammed the wall with his closed fit, causing a piece of wood panel to collapse on the ground. Gwen covered her face, hoping not to get smacked by plywood.

He brazenly inhaled and exhaled out the nose and mouth. His strained, ragged breathing saturated the tense air between the three. Gwen pretended to check her phone as Jess closed her eyes, the noiseless space ringing until she spoke up.

“Miguel. I know things have been tough lately, but like you tell us, focus on the tasks at hand. Right now, these tasks need to be reported, making sure those anomalies’ messes are thoroughly scrubbed clean. That's all I'm asking.”

Miguel withheld any comments about that. Refusing to even make a peep. Pressing her lips together, Jess tapped Gwen's shoulder.

“Let's go. I'll show you an efficient way to document your assignments.”

Gwen returned it with a thumbs-up. “Sounds good. Uh, see you around, boss.” She gave a stilted wave, then hastened her steps to the opposite end.

“I'm not trying to attack you, Miguel.”

“That sounds exactly what you're trying to do.” He harped back.

She opted to ignore that. “You've been more distracted as of late, and it's been stressful for us as well. I just want to be on the same page.”

He averted his attention to the floor. He hated how she was right. He scorned the fact, but he couldn't tell the reason.

It'll damage them too much. 

“Night, Jess.”

Jess clicked her tongue. “I'll send you the folders. Goodnight, Miguel.”

No other words were exchanged. No more needed to be.

Your ears perked when you heard the door hinges squeak a bit. “Everything okay? I heard a loud bang.”

Miguel trudged over to his couch, where you resided, and slouched next to you. 

“Just my secondary refusing to understand that I have other things to attend to. I have too much on my plate, and she just wants to pile more shit on me!”

You sensed the heated vexation emitting off him as his leg juddered. Your right hand positioned itself over his knee and waited. It took a minute, but it decreased in speed.

You knew.

“Being a leader is hard. They always look to you for everything or the right choices. You're held to these impossible standards just because you're the overseer… but is the leader also not allowed to have someone to rely on as well?”

You rubbed your hand in circular motions as he drooped on the sofa more.

“You have so much weight on you; does no one help take some of it off your shoulders? I know Peter, but what about the others?”

Miguel kneaded his temples and sighed out. “In a way, they try, but they don't do it right. I have to do so much, but more things pop up, and it never ends.”

“Ah, that unhealthy habit of you fueling that control. You haul it around to the point where you're burning yourself out, mi Estrella.”

“I just don't want anything to go wrong, but I have things that I need to do. It's an endless cycle of so many things that need to be taken care of. But I can't do those things because of moments like this!”

His claws dragged against the cushions, ripping up some of the padding. You removed your hand from his knee to his hand.

“Remember at the gardens how I said I envied flowers?”

Miguel turned to you with a quizzical gaze. “Yes?”

“And how they're able to show vulnerability.”

“Yes. I remember.”

“From the things you've told me, it sounds like you're used to doing everything by yourself because you're worried others will mess up, but it's okay to slip up and show vulnerability and ask for help. We rely on each other, from the smallest of things to the biggest.”

You interlaced his and your fingers together.

“Maybe try telling your secondary, uh, Jess? That's her name, yeah, if there's anyone who can help out with some of the stuff that has to be done. If there's hundreds of spider-people working here, I'm pretty sure they're all crazy smart to take on some of the endeavors that you do.”

Was Miguel being biased in this situation? Yes, he was, but hearing it from you was soothing. That benign, good-willed nature as you conversed with him instead of tearing him down.

“I-I will see what I can do, mi Luna. Simplemente, no puedo creerlo. How are you so gentle?”

“I'm not gentle.” You giggled. “I just want to make sure that you're okay. I deeply care for you, Miguel, and I only want the best for you.”

“No, no, mi corazón, you are very gentle.” He engulfed you in a firm hold, kissing your forehead as you laughed, and grabbed his arm with both your hands.

“Alright, alright. I'll be gentle as an excuse to forgive you for pushing me into your apartment.”

“Ay, I'm sorry, mi Luna. I panicked when I heard others, and I didn't want them harassing you and-”

“Hey, hey, it's okay; I'm just teasing.” You placed your lips on his forearm and nuzzled more into him.

Miguel sheepishly grinned and buried his face in your hair.

“So…”

“Si, mi corazón?”

“Going to show me around your place? It's so dark in here, I nearly stumbled over many unknown objects.”

“Ah–sorry about that. Yes, I'll show you around.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@ella-janehaven @prozacgooble @sanguwuxyoonbummy

[the-kr8tor]

Thread The Needle

Pairing: Hobie Brown x Fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x Fem! Reader

Total word count: 48.6k (complete)

Synopsis: You've been pining for your best friend of ten years, unbeknownst to you he's also hopelessly in love with you. Will your final college project bring you closer and finally admit your feelings? Or will it drive a wedge between you?

Tags: Best friend! Hobie, fashion student! reader, fem! Reader. Best friends to lovers, idiots in love, lots of pining, is it still slow burn if they're already in love? Hurt/comfort, FLUFF. Specific warnings are listed per chapter.

Disclaimer: I have no experience in fashion design or went to school for it. I've based my knowledge on my own research and what I've seen in various media.

*I don't consent to having my work translated/ published on other platforms*

All images used are from pinterest

Main Masterlist

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER 1 - Pin my heart

CHAPTER 2- Loose thread

CHAPTER 3- Knee Socks

CHAPTER 4- Threadbare

CHAPTER 5- Woven Wheel

CHAPTER 6- Lace

CHAPTER 7- Crossed Stitch

CHAPTER 8- Out of Style

CHAPTER 9- Threaded Through

CHAPTER 10- Parallel Cut

EPILOGUE

TTN one shots (Spoiler Warning ⚠️)

Classroom inspo

Chapter 8 outfit inspos

TTN secrets (Spoiler Warning ⚠️)

(1) (2) (3) (4) (5)

Submitted by the readers ❤️

Chapter 8 fanart by @thesevenofstaves

TTN Memes by @hunx147 (Spoiler Warning ⚠️)

(1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7)

Songs recommended by readers to listen to while reading ❤️

Spotify playlist

From the start by Laufey, Chemtrails over the country club by Lana Del Rey, good old fashioned lover boy by Queen, Just a friend to you by Meghan Trainor, I bet on losing dogs by Mitski, Everything in you by adventure time, What a wonderful world cover by the Brooklyn duo, me and your mama by Childish Gambino, A thousand years by Cristina Perry, Tis the damn season by Taylor Swift, thousand years cover by new found glory, Outset island by Hot freaks, Lacy by Olivia Rodrigo.

[panda-writes-kpop]

thnks fr th mmrs, vn thgh thy wrn’t s grt

a/n: 0_0 ..me when I remember that I haven't updated the hypnosis series in months... whoops! anyways, here's another chapter to feed the people who enjoy this series! special thanks to @kingmaker-a for reading over this one - I'm glad you enjoy the series, my guy <3

tw: lots of blood 'n gore, weird spirit physics, double the people turning into vampires for none of the extra cost, sad memories and morally ambiguous characters

word count: 4.6k

( <- Previous Part | Next Part -> | Series Masterlist)

summary: everything's wrong. two of your friends are missing, two of your friends are in serious shit with the university, and the other three are barely hanging on to what they hold dear. and then there's you - the one who's seeing the ghost of your dead friend. the cherry on top? you may be turning into the monster that destroyed everything you loved.

but it can't get worse than this, right?

♡ Masterlist ♡

light - the absence of darkness.

From the bright sunshine that would blind you when you walked to your 10:30 a.m. lecture to the electrical lighting that allowed you to see what SuA had done to Siyeon, it was there to help illuminate your way and give you the answers that you seeked.

Without the light, you felt like you were stumbling into darkness, just as you were doing now. Your intuition had guided you forwards, past the unrecognizable mush of blood, guts, and bones that was a body in front of you. Your phone flashlight was the only sort of light you had, but it felt like a cheap replica compared to the warm sunlight that you and your friends used to bask in together.

Will things ever be the same?

That wasn’t the question to ask, especially now that you were in an abandoned part of a hospital ward. 

Looking back, the hospital room with your friends seems so far away, and you could go back and give up.

But you don’t quit, not when two of your friends are locked up in some cold, abysmal basement on campus while Ryujin and Handong are nowhere to be seen. You could do something for once, have some agency in the middle of the world’s shittiest situation. 

So you continue on until you encounter a disastrous scene. What intrigues you lies past the bloodshed, but you’re forced to look at what’s in front of you first.

There are eight closed doors past the messy nurse’s station - an evacuation or a massacre took place here, due to the scatter of paperwork, files, and file cabinets all over the floor. A few papers were stuck to the ceiling with pins and needles, and blood covers every possible surface. You’d normally gag at the sight of so much blood, but you weirdly find… comfort in all of it.

And when did your mouth start filling with saliva?

You force yourself to swallow the uncomfortable feeling rising in your chest. Handong and Ryujin are fine, if anything were to happen to them, they’d be the most likely to take care of themselves and each other.

Yet again, betrayal seemed to be a common theme in your life, so you’d best keep moving.

Alright, there’s eight doors. Find something familiar, someone familiar that will make you want to go through.

Your hand grabs the first door knob as you realize how ill-prepared you are for this venture. With just your phone flashlight and the will of pure fucking spite for SuA and her shitty life decisions, you pull through the tangled threads of your fractured mind to find someone to help you through this.

Unfortunately for you and your increasingly temporary good mood, your mind finds its way to settle on Chou Tzuyu, the girl who died before she ever had a chance to live.

What if I hadn’t blocked SuA immediately? What if I had talked things through with Siyeon sooner? What if JiU and I had seen eye-to-eye?

Would anything have changed?

You take a soft breath before turning the door handle.

Chou Tzuyu - the girl who never hesitated to help you out, the girl who gave you homework answers every time you came to class with glassy eyes, and the girl who helped you realize that you should give dating another chance.

You let go of the door handle to place both hands on the door. Rage builds inside of you as vengeance seeps into your bones. Chou Tzuyu was dead, and you were pissed about it.

You pull your hands back, only to slam them against the steel door. To your surprise, the door flies off of its hinges and slams into the parallel wall inside of the hospital room. With your hands extended, you stare at them in morbid curiosity (I did that?) before you realize that you can step through the room (I did that!).

With your phone flashlight, you scan the wall to your left to find a light switch, and once you find it, you flick it on. The light blinks for a minute before turning on. Although you weren’t a fan of the sterile lighting, it was better than the darkness that you were surrounded in before.

“What would you ever do without me?” A voice rings out, one that causes your hair to rise on your neck and arms.

You shriek and throw your phone - one of the least intelligent decisions you’ve made thus far - and you cringe when you hear it shatter against the wall.

Fuck.

“Tzuyu?” You spin around, only to lock eyes with someone you never thought you would see again. “Fuck, I’m sorry-“

“-Don’t worry about it, you can’t do me any harm.” Tzuyu offers you a warm smile before sticking her arm through a wall and then letting it sit at her side afterwards. “SuA already killed me once, you can’t kill me again.”

Bewildered, you stare at her.

“How? Why? What the fuck?”

“Well, I heard Siyeon and SuA fighting-“

“-yeah, I heard that story, I know.” You wildly gesture to the girl in front of you. “How are you here?”

“Being a ghost works differently than being a human or any other type of mortal creature.” She explains as you notice a soft lilac hue that surrounds her figure. “I’m free to roam between the planes of the living and the dead, and I can visit who I want whenever I want.”

“Okay…” You shake your head before nervously playing with your hair. “Why did you choose me to talk to?”

“You have a lot of questions, like usual, and I have plenty of answers. It’ll be just like old times.” Tzuyu sits on the edge of the hospital bed before patting the spot next to her. 

You reluctantly sit next to Tzuyu as you study her for a moment. She doesn’t look as ghastly as your last meeting with her; instead, she looks just as well as she did at the party.

“The party, Tzuyu, you were there… or, at least, it looked like you were there.” You try to explain the events of the party, but it all blurs together in your mind.

Drinks. Dahyun dancing? Tzuyu left to see her. Video games. JiU crashes the party. 2 a.m. wake-up. SuA bites me. Fox bites her. I died?

“It was a mirage, someone was working with SuA to create an exact duplicate of me. It has to be someone with powerful sorcery skills who would study under Professor Wang, since he specialized in mirages and illusions.” Tzuyu’s words cause you to sigh in relief.

“So it couldn’t have been Dami?” You softly ask as your heart tenses in your chest.

She’s the brightest witch you know, one with a soft heart and a kind soul. Did that make her more innocent or more guilty, you wonder.

“No, Dami wouldn’t be taking a class related to that subject until next semester.” Tzuyu places one of her hands over yours, but you can’t feel her warmth, even though you know it’s there. “She’s the last person I’d expect to betray you.”

“Really?” The disbelief in your voice causes you to physically recoil.

“Don’t you remember? When you left that party and went home, who was the first person that found you?”

You had to have been crying for hours when you got home from the party. What else were you supposed to do besides face the reality that your relationship with the girl you loved was over?

You expected one of your friends to come knocking on the door, Minji perhaps? She was too in-tune with your feelings for your liking, and it was something that bothered you about her. She knew that your relationship was over before you did, and she told you to break things off with Bora before you got hurt.

What a fool you are - maybe she’s here to rub it in your face after everything.

The knocking continues, but it’s less forceful than you thought it was. Gahyeon would try to tear the door off its hinges - she actually did so to your dorm room door when you locked yourself in there in order to prepare for exams. Safe to say, your RA, Irene, wasn’t a big fan of Gahyeon afterwards.

Handong would’ve only knocked once and called out to you. You got into a small fight with SuA, your first fight as a couple, and it absolutely broke you. You stormed into your room and didn’t come out for breakfast, which was unusual for you since you and Handong would get breakfast together before heading to your early morning classes. She was gentle with her approach, and her words eventually drew you out of your hiding spot to go grab a bite to eat before class started.

Yoohyeon would’ve just yelled instead of knocking - knocking was never really her style, anyways. She was your best friend, after all, so the door was always unlocked for her. She’d just yell before storming in, something along the lines of “you better have clothes on, otherwise you’re paying for our joint therapy session!”

Siyeon wouldn’t have knocked - you always went over to her place. Most of the time it was to pick up SuA, or to just hang out with all of the girls since their dorm was much larger than everyone else’s.

When you realized who it was, you pulled yourself off of the floor before wobbling to the door. Of course, the girl knocking on your door would be gentle yet persistent, quiet yet certain. Your first true college friend, your closest confidant - Lee Yubin.

It’s not like you didn’t trust Yoohyeon with all of your secrets - you both know too much about each other to not be friends anymore. Sometimes, you just want to talk to that friend who just listens to what you have to say. They don’t always offer advice or help, but a comforting shoulder and reassuring words are always found with them.

When you open the door, Dami’s not prepared with a humorous quip or a warm hug.

“Can I come in?” Is the only request she makes, with a gentle kindness twinkling in her eyes.

You mumble your answer before opening up the door wide enough for her to enter, and you shut it behind her before turning on a light in your dorm room.

“What did you hear?” You ask, knowing how… creative SuA’s storytelling can be when it comes to people she doesn’t like.

“It doesn’t matter. I want to hear what happened from you.” She reaches over to you and holds out her hand. “Your word matters more to me than SuA’s, or anyone else’s, for that matter. I believe you, I trust you, and I know you.”

So you tell her all of it. Some of the relationship issues you’ve been having to Minji’s break-up comments to the events at the party to how you got back home.

When you’re done, all you can do is scan her face to see how she reacts. Dami, ever the calming wave crashing against the shoreline, reflects empathy and kindness towards you as you finally take her hand.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you. I could’ve walked you home. You shouldn’t have been alone after all of that.” She says as you bite your lip.

Through tears, you can’t help but choke out a laugh.

“Are you alright?” She instinctively cups your face and brings it closer to hers, but you shake your head and smile.

“Only a true martyr blames herself for other people’s actions. Dami,” You lightly squeeze her hand, “I’m just glad you’re here. I’d much rather talk with you than anyone else.”

“Not Yoohyeon?” In disbelief, she lets go of your face.

You find yourself missing her warmth before you answer.

“Not even Yoohyeon. You’re irreplaceable to me, Dami. I hope we’re close for the rest of our lives because I can’t imagine what I would do without you.”

“…Right.” Heat flocks to your face as you nervously bite your lip. “How could I ever doubt her? Dami put her freedom, her ability to practice magic, and her scholarships on the line to save me. Who does that for a friend?”

“A good person,” Tzuyu quickly answers, “and you know it’s not Gahyeon either. She killed someone for you - a former friend of hers, no less.”

“I need to get them out of there, save them-“

“I assure you, those two are not damsels in distress.” Tzuyu laughs to herself for a moment. “The catacombs under the school aren’t that difficult to navigate.”

“Why lock them up there instead of a prison?” You ask.

“The university didn’t want news getting out about two dead students - bad for enrollment rates. They wanted to sort this mess out in private, but it’s all going to come out in one way or another.”

“You think so?”

“I know so.” Tzuyu confidently says.

“What do I do now? What about Ryujin and Handong?” Confused, you look to Tzuyu for answers.

“Try more doors. If you found me, then you can find the other answers you seek.” She wistfully responds.

“What about you?”

“I’ll be here when you need me. What else am I going to do for the rest of eternity?”

~

With a broken phone and a ghastly thumbs up from Tzuyu, you leave Tzuyu behind as you approach the room across from hers.

Wandering around in the darkness, you find yourself carefully maneuvering to the other side of the hallway as your stomach growls.

How long has it been since I’ve eaten something?

Your hunger doesn’t seem to be settled by the thoughts of food - rather, all thoughts of human food seem to be repulsive to you. You find yourself gagging as you crash through the second door without a second thought.

I’ve really got to get this superhuman strength under control.

After checking yourself for injuries, you stand up and flick on the light switch. The light comes on with ease, and a soft sigh leaves your lips.

A child’s room outside of the pediatric ward? How odd.

You see a small teddy bear resting next to your feet, and you don’t hesitate to pick it up.

You throw the dart against the board, and Ryujin chuckles as it falls to the ground after touching the board.

“Alright, fur-for-brains, you try it.” You gruffly say before stepping aside.

“I’d prefer you call me Jinnie over that.” She calmly says before picking up the dart and casually throwing it.

And, of course, it’s a bullseye.

She gives you a sweet smile as you give her a sweet two-finger salute, one on each hand. Mature as ever, she sticks her tongue out at you as the carnival worker grabs her an oversized pink unicorn.

“Good luck fitting that abomination in your dorm.” You laugh as Ryujin proudly holds the plushie in her arms.

“Lucky for you, it’s going on the top of my car as a hood decoration!”

You loudly groan as Ryujin laughs. Neither of you notice the pair of friends approaching you until a yellow snow cone lands on the giant unicorn’s belly.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!” The taller girl, with long, black hair, quickly apologizes before grabbing some napkins and helping Ryujin clean it up.

“It looks like my unicorn pissed itself!” She whines as you softly laugh.

Your eyes peel away from the sight as you realize who the other girl is.

“Dami, right? We met at orientation.” You give Dami a warm smile that she reciprocates. 

“Yeah. Sorry I haven’t been responding to your texts, I was busy moving in-“

“-Nah, it’s alright,” You reassure her, “I’ve been busy trying to adapt to college life as well. How about we meet for lunch tomorrow and we can catch up?”

“That sounds great.” She gracefully accepts your offer before turning towards JiU and Ryujin. “That’s JiU - most of us call her Minji, though. She’s one of my close friends and we went to high school together.”

“Minji, huh?” Your eyes focus on Ryujin. “Ryujin’s been my best friend since I started walking. People thought we were weird, since she was a werewolf and I was a human, but we made it work.”

“Our friend group has a vampire and a vampire hunter, so it can’t get any weirder than that.”

“Your friends sound like fun. I’d love to meet them sometime.” You say as Ryujin dejectedly walks back to you. “Did you clean up your unicorn’s little accident?”

“It mostly came out, I’ll just put some bleach on it when I get home.” She shrugs as JiU nervously plays with a strand of hair.

“Please, let me make it up to you. I still have two food vouchers from the university that I haven’t used yet,” Minji hands them to you before turning back to Ryujin, "and I got this teddy bear at another game earlier, but I’ve got plenty of stuffed animals at home, so you should take it.”

“I’ll take the food vouchers,” Ryujin snatches them from your hand before handing you the teddy bear, “you can have the bear.”

Ryujin walks away, leaving you to say your goodbyes. 

“It’s been great to catch up, Dami, and I look forward to lunch tomorrow!” You wave at her with a smile before backpedaling towards Ryujin. “Thank you, Minji, for the bear. I promise to treasure it.”

You set the teddy bear down on the bed before grabbing the bedsheet and pulling it up to the pillow.

“I can’t believe we got a whole house to ourselves for a sleepover!” Gahyeon cheers before crashing against the bed.

“Don’t get too excited, Gahyeon,” Handong warns, “we’ll have to have the place spotless; otherwise, SuA will have our asses.”

You set your stuff down on a bed in the next room over as Handong and Gahyeon converse in the distance. Yoohyeon leans against the doorway as you start to unpack your overnight bag. 

“Getting comfortable?” She teases before sliding into the room.

“I’m trying to.” You sigh before tossing the bag aside and flopping on the bed. “Yooh, can I tell you something?”

“If you’re going to tell me something weird, I have to start charging you for therapy sessions-“

“How do you deal with liking one of your friends?” You honestly ask Yoohyeon as she loudly gasps.

“YOU LIKE SOMEONE-“ She shouts, loud enough for the whole house to hear, before you have a chance to close the door. “And you didn’t tell me first?”

“To be fair, I haven’t told anyone else yet, so you will be the first.” You offer her some semblance of comfort as your heart races in your chest - you were really going to say what you were feeling out loud, huh?

“So… who is it?” She asks before you sigh deeply.

“It’s someone I’d never thought I’d fall for, in all honesty. Someone who understands me in a way that no one else has.” You confess as Yoohyeon squeals.

“Oh, I know who you’re talking about! It has to be-“

“-SuA.” You quickly breathe out as Yoohyeon blinks at you once, twice, and then thrice.

“Oh shit, well, good for you!” Yoohyeon scrambles for the right words as you fold your arms.

“No words of comfort or reassurance?” You ask as she shrugs.

“SuA’s not out of your league, but she wasn’t who I was expecting, in all honesty. I didn’t know you two were close.” Yoohyeon says.

“So you’re okay with SuA and I being together if she says yes to a first date?” 

Yoohyeon takes your hand and gently squeezes it.

“I’m your best friend. I’d tell you if you were doing something stupid, trust me.”

You choke out a laugh before grabbing the pillow and putting it back into place.

“Minji, I’m so sorry to bother you.” You softly say before she hands you a glass of tea.

“No, it’s alright, it’s what friends are for. What did you need to talk to me about?” 

“SuA and I- we’re not doing alright.” Your words lift a weight off your chest, as if saying what you’ve been feeling will fix all of your problems. “We’ve gotten into more fights, and every time I want to talk about it, she blows me off to go partying. I don’t know what to do anymore.”

“Can I-“ Minji pauses for a moment before grabbing your arm. “Can I be honest with you?”

“Of course.” You nod as she continues on.

“SuA, she’s a great person and all, but she has her flaws. You know this, just as the rest of us do. I love her, dearly and truly, but she’s an unnameable spirit. You won’t get her to settle down with sugar coated words or sweet promises.”

“What should I do, then?”

“You should break up with her.” Minji bluntly says it, and her words carve a mark in your heart that a thousand swords could not replicate.

“What?” You softly respond, hoping your brain had cherry-picked her words and made some sort of sick mash-up of them.

“You can’t- you can’t be with someone who makes you miserable. I see the two of you at parties. She has a great time with her friends, and you look like you want to be anywhere in the world besides at her side-“

“-yeah, but she compromises for me and I do it for her as well-“ You try to defend SuA, but JiU’s having none of it.

“-you’re new to dating, especially when it comes to someone like SuA, and I don’t want to see someone I care about get hurt.”

Your eyes involuntarily roll as you know the lecture is coming. Despite Minji being the most agreeable person on the planet, the two of you don’t always see eye-to-eye. She’s too involved in your life, at times, and you just need some space away from other people to clear your thoughts. To her, you don’t care enough about yourself and she will point that out, every single time, without fail. You’ve always treated her like an overcautious, caring mother, but something about her words irks you. Maybe it’s the fact that there is truth mingled in with her opinion, or you’ve finally grown tired of her meddling in your life, but you’ve had enough.

“I’m not a child, Minji.” You set the tea cup aside before standing up. “I can decide who I want to date, and when or if I should break up with them. I just wanted to see if you knew anything about why SuA has been so distant lately.”

“I don’t want to see you get hurt.” She repeats, firmly standing her ground.

“Do you know something I don’t, Minji?” You exasperatedly say before running your fingers through your hair. “I don’t see why you could care so much about me - SuA was your friend first, after all.”

“Her actions are not my responsibility.”

You can’t take this delicate dance of instigating and investigating any more, so you quickly move towards the exit of Siyeon, SuA, and Minji’s dorm.

“Wait, please-“ She calls out to you as you reach for the door. “I’m doing this because I-“

You slam the door in her face, an act you would grow to regret. When you come back a few hours later to return her pillow from your dorm, it’s like you’ve encountered a new person. She offers you a simple greeting before taking the pillow from her arms.

Minji’s smile doesn’t spread as wide as usual, and it’s all your fault.

Asshole.

A gentle tear runs down your cheek - you were awful to her, weren’t you? - as you gently fix the chapstick on the bedside table.

“You cheated on her!” Siyeon screams at you from the door as tears fall down your face.

“No, she cheated on me.” You offer a simple explanation, but she isn’t buying it.

“I found your chapstick in that girl’s bedroom, so try another excuse.” She haphazardly tosses the chapstick, and you’re able to catch it, even with tears partially blocking your sight.

“I let SuA use it-“

“I can’t even look at you. Come find me when you’re ready to make things right, and I may be kind enough to let you do so.” Siyeon slams the door as you fall to the ground in a puddle of misery and wallowing.

Two friends, one girlfriend. All gone within a few days of each other. Who else would leave you next? Handong? Yoohyeon? Gahyeon? Dami?

For some reason, the thought of Dami leaving you behind pushes you over the edge as the floodgates break open. You sob on the floor for what seems to be hours until your roommate finds you and brings you to bed, where you cry yourself to sleep for another night.

It’s saddening how quickly things can be over. Siyeon seemed open for a reunion - did SuA finally confess, or did Siyeon figure out the truth? You knew your friendship with Minji would never be the same, and that was okay with you. 

Although you were miserable with the loss of a few friends a few months ago, you’d be beyond consolable if one of your close friends of today were to betray you or-

Don’t think about that. Don’t think about that. Don’t think about that.

You lightly brush the tears away before looking in the vanity. The sight in front of you causes you to scream as the puzzle pieces connect in your head.

Hunger for blood, insane strength, and invisible in mirrors.

Despite the fact that your reflection is missing, two pointy objects reflect back to you as you open your mouth.

Sharp fangs.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” You rub your temples, hoping that’ll miraculously fix you. “This day cannot get any worse.”

As if the hell opened up and Satan heard your words, Ryujin crashes against the doorless door frame with a heavy sigh.

“You’re bleeding!” You yell as Ryujin winces and holds her side.

“I’ll be fine.” She reassures you as you rush over to her. “Nice fangs, you freak.”

“You’re not helping.” You gently help Ryujin to the bed. “Who did this to you?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” She breathes a little lighter when she’s resting on your bed. “So is the vampire thing permanent, or-“

“Let me deal with that shit, you’re going to bleed out at this rate.” You grab a bundle of cloth that Ryujin can hold at her side. “I can’t do stitches, but I think Minji might be able to-“

Ryujin grabs your arm as you turn away from her.

“You shouldn’t go out there.”

“Why not?”

“She’s out there.” Ryujin coughs up a bit of blood as you grab a few tissues for her.

“Who is she?”

“Handong, but it’s not the girl that you know. They, the vampires,” She corrects herself before coughing into a tissue, “got to her before I could fight them all off. She’s a vampire spawn, hungry and lost to her instincts. We can’t help her until we get her some human blood.”

“We’re in hospital, there has to be blood somewhere-“ You reason as Ryujin shakes her head.

“Fresh blood, from a living human.”

“Yoohyeon.” You breathe out as Ryujin coughs again. “Are you going to be alright?”

“I’m a werewolf, this will blow over in a day or two. Supernatural healing is the shit, huh.” She laughs before going into another coughing fit.

“I can stay with you-“ “-You have to find Yoohyeon before Handong does; otherwise, we’ll have another murder on our hands.”

[indelen]

The plot kicks off in earnest and the midnight hour is close at hand, it's time for honey cake (medovyk) and tea.

This is my reread of the Lockwood and Co. Books, organized by @blue-boxes-magic-and-tea, I'll make a general summary of several chapters and then post bits and pieces that jumped out at me.

Part III, Chapters 9-12:

Things continue to go pear shaped. I find it interesting how Stroud manages to thread the needle of reader sympathy towards the protagonists. The writing makes it clear that they did mess up and the house fire was avoidable. And this is not all on one person - Lockwood could have pulled rank and insist they leave but didn’t, Lucy had the chance to leave after the first manifestation but didn’t. Lockwood forgot the chains. Lucy lobbed Greek Fire indoors. All of this is bad. And when you meet Barnes you sort of agree with him to a point about them being irresponsible, but he’s so high handed and dismissive of the trio you can’t help but be on their side. The government keeps telling these kids they should listen to the government, because the government is full of adults that know so much better than they do. But if this was really the case the government would not allow children to do this dangerous work at all. You can't have it both ways! Either these kids know nothing and adults really are smarter, in which case let them go study trigonometry and pass notes in class already and, as smart adults, find some different way to battle The Problem that doesn’t involve high mortality child labor. OR. Let the kids do their job and admit you’re not operating within some perfect and fair system where the presence of an adult magically fixes everything or makes anyone safer. We meet so many adults in this universe and the majority of them are awful and take horrific advantage of children to enrich themselves on The Problem. None of them are sufficiently controlled in this universe because it is not in the government’s interest to do so. The kids sense this and revolt, if they are to die they want to die on their own terms! This is what happens when governments fail the people they are supposed to protect and when the desire to make money trumps acting in the interests of the public good.

Odds and Ends, Side A:

10/10 chapter opening. On par with “the building was on fire and it wasn’t my fault”. Reader attention fully captured.

Lucy “no I totally don’t care how I look, I swear” Carlyle maintaining if she ever came back as a ghost she’d be a hot cool ghost thankyou very much is so funny to me, just peak teenager insecurity and vanity but in a very endearing way.

There’s the thing about George – he can learn. Not just from books but in real life he can take criticism to heart if it’s laid out plainly. Even if it’s mean. This is probably his most amazing attribute. He dislikes hypocrisy and doesn’t have time for any kind of jabs or hints that are difficult to interpret. But someone lobs a criticism straight at him, he won’t dismiss it outright. In so many ways he is the most emotionally mature of the trio.

I’ve been thinking a lot in this reread about why George was so hostile to Lucy from the start and I think it comes down to the fact that he saw Lucy as someone who would make Lockwood more reckless. She is a gifted Listener, George knew Lockwood enough to realize this will make him more likely to rush off into the fray without research and Lucy being not especially academically minded would not stop him. I think he was worried that they would feed negatively off each other and outvote him. Which … they did at first, it’s true, George was completely right. Lucy goes along with whatever Lockwood says because she trusts him, because she admires him, because she doesn’t want him to think less of her. This behavior continues later too - she snarks at him plenty, calls him names, makes fun of him, sure. But ultimately she has a hard time saying “no” to him. And finding that balance of how much to go along with Lockwood’s plans and when to contradict him is I think a huge part of her arc in this series.

This pantomime of Victorian gentility is hilarious. The year is (arguably) 2013 and yet this sounds like a scene from Agatha Christie. Barnes knows Lockwood is home, Lockwood knows Barns knows he’s home but this presenting of a visiting card and “show him in” ritual has to be observed because this whole society hasn’t moved on from 1953 in six decades.

I am not the right person to give a post-colonial literary analysis of the Lockwood books but I would be the first to want to read it. There’s a lot there in terms of portrayal of indigenous beliefs, what colonial powers learn and refuse to learn from them and how they appropriate them. Barnes sees a collection of artefacts from all over the world meant to deal with ghosts and immediately dismisses them, seeing only the methods he’s familiar with as correct. He does not stop to appreciate the fact that the idea of contacting the dead and laying them to rest is an issue that in some way or another humanity has been dealing with for millennia and all around him is evidence of the fact that not one of these cultures resorted to shoving their young to act as meat shields to do it. The variety of the artifacts speaks to the idea that there may be different approaches possible, different avenues to explore. On what basis but good old-fashioned racism is this dismissal of a ghost catcher in a universe where ghosts are real and do real harm to real people? Does a country dealing with such a crisis not owe it to its citizens to investigate every possibility instead of just consigning a large proportion of their children to a very high possibility of death and telling them that they can’t even do it on their terms, no, the government and large corporations must manage how they die!

And the idea of “it belongs in a museum” is especially laughable in this context. Presumably he means a British museum despite the fact that all these artifacts are foreign. There’s something so on the nose about a very British man dismissing knowledge from other cultures as useless and indicating he views those cultures themselves as extinct when he himself lives on the bones of a long dead empire enforces the practicing the most barbaric shit imaginable.

There is also something so very sad about Lockwood’s encyclopedic knowledge of every gord and mask in the house. Like he never to a chance to know his parents to he memorized everything about their research to get as close to them as possible.

George is the most verbally brutal of the trio and I love that for him

Here again is that Lockwood duality. We later learn sleeps in his parent’s old room - the ultimate symbol of his attempts to play the adult. Like the suits, like running his own agency, like his many successful and unsuccessful attempts to mimic adult behavior. How successful he is really is … not certain. Lucy is not a reliable narrator and even she is clearly unconvinced sometimes, but he clearly can pull it off to some extent. But every now and then we get a glimpse into the fact that he also, in a very sad and stubborn way, clings to a childhood that was horrifically and unfairly ripped from him. The baby mobile in his seemingly adult bedroom is a neat encapsulation of Lockwood himself.

This man is incapable of staying angry at his beloved for more than like … 15 mins tops.

Please turn the cassette over to side B (see reblog for more)

[gotham-ruaidh]

Who I Am - a 7x07 and 7x08 story

Set in the “Tell Me About Your Family” universe – where William visits the new Big House at Fraser’s Ridge together with Jamie, Claire, Brianna and Roger and their kids, Ian and Rachel and wee Oggy, Fanny, and Jenny Fraser Murray, in an imagined Book 9-ish timeline. He’s known that Jamie is his father for some time, but this is his first “family” visit.

Catch up on the story here:

Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 4 || Chapter 5 || Chapter 6 || Chapter 7 || Chapter 8 || Chapter 9 || Chapter 10

--

“I thought ye said ye were raised on a farm.”

Jenny Fraser Murray reached across to undo the knot that William had somehow tangled in the wool. “Here. Ye pull the strands apart like this, and then ye wind them together.”

William flushed but kept his head bent to his work. “I lived on my stepfather’s plantation for a time, but I was always busy riding or studying with my tutors or helping him entertain guests. I’m afraid I’m not much of a farmer, Auntie Jenny.”

She tsked. “So I assume ye never learned to clickit, either?”

“Pardon?”

“To make socks or scarves wi’ yarn using needles.”

Carefully he wound the strands of raw wool. “To knit? No, I never learned that either. Though I do remember my grandmother Dunsany had a basket full of yarn and thread and thimbles in her sitting room. I got into it once when I was a boy and she was not too happy with me.”

Jenny expertly tied off a handful of raw wool, and carefully took the wool from William’s hands. “Jamie and I learned to clickit from our Mam when we were bairns. My husband Ian – we grew up together, and one year for Hogmanay before we were courting, we knit each other hats wi’out knowing.” She smiled at the memory. “No’ like I needed one, mind. But it was a nice gift all the same.”

William gathered the tied-off piles of wool from the table and began stacking them on the tray Jenny had brought out onto the porch. “Was that before or after he lost his leg?”

“Oh, before. And he didnae lose the whole leg, just the part below the knee. He took grapeshot to the leg when he and Jamie were mercenaries in Flanders.”

That got William’s attention. “Da was a mercenary?”

Jenny nodded, stretching the cramp out of her neck and shoulders. “Aye, for the year after Father died. He had a price on his heid, so he needed to be somewhere else. He spoke French, so the choice was simple.” She turned to look at her nephew. “Did ye not ken that? Weel, I suppose there’s still a lot you don’t ken about my brother.”

William pursed his lips. “I didn’t know, no. It must have been his first time serving with an army, I suppose. And a foreign one, too.”

They watched a hawk glide soundlessly over the mountain. Smiled at Jem and Germaine sitting high up in the oak tree at the edge of the dooryard, swinging their legs from a high branch.

“He’s no’ spoken to me about it. Ever. Ian came home wounded, but Jamie didnae come back to Lallybroch wi’ him, on account of him being a wanted man. It took months until Ian was back on his feet, and while I mended him he told me a few things here and there about what it was like with the army. But then we turned back to running Lallybroch, and we were marrit not too long afterward, so…”

William stood, and extended a hand to help Jenny to her feet. Carefully he gathered the tray, now heaped high with wool. “Where may I take this for you, Auntie?”

--

It was a fine, crisp late summer evening. Roger supervised Jem, Germaine, Mandy, and Fanny washing the supper dishes at the trough in the dooryard, taking advantage of the last light. Jenny and Brianna’s voices drifted from somewhere inside the house, planning for the next day’s spinning of the raw wool into yarn. Ian and Rachel had retreated to their cabin with Oggy, who had fussed quite a bit during supper and clearly needed somewhere quiet to rest.

“Here.” William looked up to see his father holding out a pewter cup, took it, and shifted a bit on the bench to allow room for Jamie to sit beside him.

“I still can’t believe how peaceful it is here,” William remarked, watching the last rays of sun touch the treetops on the mountain.

“Aye. I’ve a short list of things I’m most happy about in my life. Getting the grant for this land is on it.” Jamie held out his own pewter cup, and William tapped it. “Slainte.”

“Slan-juh,” William echoed, taking a sip, feeling proud he did not immediately grimace.

Jamie smiled. “Good lad. We’ll have ye speaking the Gaidhlig fluently before too long.”

“You speak French?”

Jamie frowned, a bit surprised at the sudden question. “I do. And the Latin and Greek, a bit of Cherokee, and a wee bit of Chinese as weel.” He sipped his whisky. “And you, wee William? You must have the Latin and Greek, if your education was as good as Lord John has told me.”

“Yes. And French, and now some of the Prussian language as well.”

“Of course, on account of the Hessians.”

William nodded. Sipped his whisky. “I’m asking because Auntie Jenny told me today that you had served as a mercenary.”

“In Flanders. Aye. That was a long time ago.”

“Was that your first time serving in an army?”

Jamie stretched out his long legs, exposing his kneecaps as the drapes of the kilt fell away, pocked with scars.

“It was. I didnae have much choice, mind you. I had escaped from the English at Fort William, in the Highlands. I was being held for murdering an officer. I hadnae murdered him, mind you, but there was no reasoning with the garrison commander. That man had had me flogged twice in the space of a week, after all.”

William’s eyes bugged at this information.

Claire emerged onto the porch, medical apron tied over her skirts. “There you are. Is now a good time?”

Jamie shifted his pewter cup to his left hand, and extended his right hand over the rail of the bench. Claire pulled up a chair so that Jamie’s four-fingered hand lay in her lap, and pulled a jar out of a pocket.

William blinked, remembering his manners, and craned his neck to see. “What’s that?”

Claire opened the jar and set it between her knees. “It’s a salve I make for Jamie, on account of the pain he still feels in his hand. Helps to loosen the tension. Especially on days like today when I know he’s been using it too much.”

“Near every bone in this hand was broken when I was no’ much older than you,” Jamie explained casually, grimacing a bit as Claire’s sure fingers kneaded the salve into the tissue. “Pained me for years. And then at Saratoga I injured it again. Both times, Claire mended me. She promised me I’d have a working hand, and I do.”

“My first real surgery, this hand was,” she murmured, massaging the palm with both thumbs.

Jamie leaned over to kiss her forehead.

William cleared his throat. “I knew that Saratoga was not your first battle.”

“But it was yours,” Jamie interjected.

William took a sip of whisky. “Yes. I – I thought I would be better prepared.”

“There’s nothing that can prepare you, lad. I was but twenty years old when I fought my first true battle. I’d done the occasional cattle raid here and there, so I thought I’d be ready.”

“I wager you weren’t.”

“No. Drilling is easy. Knowing what to do in the heat of battle, right after you see your comrades die in front of you…that’s something else entirely.”

William watched Fanny and Mandy carefully carry a stack of clean plates and pewter cups across the dooryard and back into the house. Smelled the sharp, clean tang of the ointment.

“I am ashamed to tell you this, but I do not think I acted too honorably in the first battle.”

“At Saratoga, you mean?”

William nodded, looking down at his hands. “I froze. My comrade…my friend…took a bullet right next to me. All I remember is General Fraser screaming at me, but I couldn’t hear any of the words.”

He watched Jamie’s hand slide on to his, gripping it. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of, son. It’s the hell of a shock. I’ve experienced it myself, a time or two.”

“Prestonpans. Culloden. The war with the Regulators,” Claire murmured.

William swallowed. “I recovered, of course, and led the next charge. Though now I realize it was you and your men I was fighting, and that fact makes me absolutely sick to my stomach.”

Jamie squeezed his son’s hand. “Take that feeling, lad, and multiply it by the largest number ye can think of. And then you’ll know just how I felt, when in the second battle I shot your hat right off your heid.”

William raised his mug to his lips, watching the liquid slosh as his hand shook. Feeling his body seize up with tension. “Dear God.”

His vision swam. His pulse dropped.

Steps – Mother Claire. Gently taking away his mug, and resting her hands on his shoulders. “William. It’s all right. You’re here with us now. Breathe deep.”

Jamie’s hand gripping his. “In and out, lad. Follow me.”

Claire undoing his stock, settling a hand on the clammy back of his neck. “Slowly now.”

He did not know if it was minutes or hours that Jamie and Claire surrounded him, comforted him, soothed him.

But when he did return to himself, he was crying.

“I’m sorry,” he gasped.

Jamie squeezed his shoulder, and kissed his temple. “There’s nothing to be sorry for, lad.”

“It’s called a panic attack.” Claire felt his cheeks and forehead with the back of a cool hand. “Have you had them before?”

He licked his parched lips. “Yes, but never that strong. Only when I’m truly upset.”

“I can give you some guidance on what to do, should it happen again and we’re not here to help,” she said gently. “But there’s no cure. I’m sorry to tell you that even in my time, these things happen. Perhaps even more frequently.”

William swallowed. “Have men not discovered a way to end all wars, then?”

She knelt on the porch, still holding his pulse between her fingers. “I’m afraid not. You know that Jamie’s endured several wars. I endured a war of my own, in the years right before I met him. England and France and the Americans were all on the same side of this war, if you can believe it. Fighting the Prussians, in the fields of France.”

“They called it a world war,” Jamie added. “Men fighting each other wi’out swords, but with guns, and with bombs dropped from the sky.”

“I worked in an aid station, right at the edge of the combat zone.” Claire looked at him, but her eyes were so far away. “Patched up many men not too much older than you. So, I understand.”

William swallowed. “I – I am a soldier. Being a soldier is what I’ve aspired to for my whole life. To be like my stepfather, and the men in his family.”

Jamie and Claire listened, patient.

“But I like this – being with all of you, here in the quiet. Perhaps I’m more cut out to be a farmer. I love my men, but this life here…”

“We understand, William.” Jamie reached to cup his son’s cheek, for the first time in his life, as if he were a wee lad. “And we will love you and support you no matter what you choose.”

“The Americans will win this war, will they not?”

“They will,” Claire said softly. “Of that I’m certain.”

William set his jaw. “Perhaps I should start spending a lot more time here.”

“There’s nothing we’d love more. But you have a life outside of this place, William – we cannae keep you from it.”

“Being here, with all of you, this past week – it makes me wonder whether this life here is more important. I need more time with you, Da – and with you, Mother Claire – and with Brianna and her family. I need to know who I am.”

Jamie smiled. “You already do, lad.”

[slamminslamminmcgill]

Perrito: Chapter 1 - Lalo Salamanca/FTM Reader (NSFW!)

you were supposed to be doing 6 months in prison for drug possession and prostitution. that is, until you met lalo salamanca, and he decided to make you his puppy. for $10,000 a week, you were to wear a dog collar around your neck 24/7, and once he clipped the leash to you, you were to obey his every command. tags/warnings: petplay, dom/sub, bdsm, possessiveness, implied stalking, face slapping, praise kink, degradation/humiliation, oral sex, vaginal sex, squirting, needles/syringes/injections, medical exam, a few tiddlywinks of blood, non-consensual body modification (you'll see >:33) anatomical terms: cunt/pussy/hole, (t-)dick/cock words: 6,918 ao3 link author's notes: baby's first multichapter fic!!! had a LOT of ideas for this concept and im super excited to write more for this 🥺 y como siempre no soy un hablante nativo pero estoy aprendiendo. entonces por favor corríjame si se encuentra algo de errores :3

“Where do you see yourself in 5 years?”

A generic job interview question meant to gauge your desires and plans for the future. 5 years ago, you would’ve said the best case scenario would be a life of modest success and comfort. You would have never imagined that by this point in your life you’d be living in a lavish estate and making 10 grand a week. 

Let alone the fact that you were making 10 grand by wearing a dog collar for the drug cartel boss who owned said lavish estate. 

Whichever deity wrote your life story had a fucked up sense of humor. Your thread of life was being used to draw dicks on the tapestry of existence. You’d gotten great at lying to friends and family. As far as they knew, you were moving abroad to work as an on-call assistant for a shipping executive. You rationalized that it was technically true, but it was an egregious lie of omission. Don Eduardo Salamanca, or “Lalo” as he preferred, was a wealthy businessman; there was no denying that. Though your assistance was the furthest thing from business that anyone could fathom. It was a stable position that came with steady income, job security, and benefits. Sure, these benefits just so happened to include the best sex you’d ever had on the comfiest bed you’d ever touched, but that was neither here nor there. 

It all started how most job interviews go: prison. You were supposed to be doing 6 months for drug possession and prostitution, but Lalo took a liking to you the moment he saw you. He said that your skills would be highly valuable in an organization such as his, which was jobspeak for “I want to get my dick wet”. You thought he was talking out of his ass, but judging by the respect he got from your fellow inmates and even some of the guards, you took his word for it. He promised you a job when you both got out, if you’d take it. 

You agreed; it sounded a hell of a lot better than going back on the streets. He promised to set you up with his lawyer, who’d been working on a way to get him off. Luckily, the lawyer actually knew his shit. He had found some tiny loophole in your case and was able to get the charges dropped and your record expunged. Much to your surprise, Lalo was waiting outside the jailhouse to pick you up when you got out. He dropped you off at your place and gave you a week to get your affairs in order. Then, you’d be moving to his place across the border in Chihuahua, Mexico. 

The week after, he showed up at your apartment in a car that, if it could speak, would definitely call you poor. On the way to his house, you discussed the specifics of your position. 

“So!” Lalo declared in a cheerful voice as he adjusted the rearview mirror, “What do you remember from what we talked about?”

You combed through your memories, the many conversations you two had in the prison showers, cafeteria, and rec yard. “10 grand a week, I wear a dog collar 24/7, and when the leash is clipped to it, I’m working. When I’m working, you have full control over me, and I have to do everything you say. Is that right?”

“Yeah! There you go. That’s the gist of it.” Lalo affirmed, “But, you won’t have to do literally everything I say. If you’re uncomfortable, you have your signals, and I’m not gonna press your limits unless you say I can.”

That was one of the promises he’d made that had put your mind at ease. Discussing this over state-sanctioned lunch one day, he had asked you your boundaries, things that you would never ever do under any circumstances. He was receptive when you told him. Plus, he’d given you safewords to use: green for “I’m okay. Keep going.”, yellow for “Ease up a little bit.”, and red for “You need to stop everything right the fuck now.” There were also corresponding hand signals in case you couldn’t talk: 3 fingers up for green, 2 for yellow, and 1 for red. 

“Right, yeah. Thank you for that.” You said. 

“Ah, don’t be silly. You don’t have to thank me. I want you to enjoy this. It’s a lot more fun for me if I know you’re having fun.” He patted your shoulder, “And, if you want to really have fun,” and squeezed it tighter than you expected, “you can talk back once in a while. You can be a naughty little puppy, if you want, but you’d better be prepared for discipline. So make sure you know what you’re getting into, alright?” He put his hand back on the wheel.

That was generally good life advice, but you’d be lying if you said you knew entirely what you were getting into. “Alright, sure. Fair enough.” You gazed out the window at the desert terrain. Nothing but cacti and sand for miles and miles. You’d weren’t entirely sure which side of the border you were on anymore, or if it even mattered. “Question,” you posed. 

“Yeah?” Lalo prodded. 

“So, like… what am I supposed to call you while we do this? Just Lalo, or…?” Your voice trailed off, as if you were expecting a different answer out of him. 

“Oh, good question! I was actually getting to that. Such a smart boy.” He laughed and ruffled your hair, making you jump a little in your seat. His touch felt nice, but it was definitely something you’d have to get used to. You probably shouldn’t react that strongly every time. “You can call me Lalo when the leash is off, but if it’s on, you need to be professional. If you’re working, you call me ‘Don Eduardo’, ‘sir’, ‘master’, ‘señor’, ‘jefe’, or ‘patrón’. Those last two basically mean ‘boss’. Make sense?”

Sense was made. “Yeah, alright. Easy enough.” 

“Very good. And how’s your Spanish?”

You shrugged, “Mediocre at best. I can understand more than I speak.”

Lalo chuckled, “Well, I appreciate the honesty. I’ll have to teach you to speak it, then, no worries. Also, if the leash is on and I have you speaking Spanish, call me usted, not tú. That’s just when you’re working, though. Es formal, ¿comprendes? (It’s formal, understand?)”

Okay, sure, you could do that. It might take you a bit to figure out, but you’d get there. “Sí, yo comprendo. (Yes, I understand.)”

“Bueno. Now, what can I call you?” Lalo poked you in the arm, “And I don’t just mean your name.”

Your first thought was an idiot. That seemed like a fitting label for someone in your predicament. Thankfully, your second thought was much more receptive. “Well, uh… what did you have in mind? I’m pretty open.”

“Oh ho, you wanna hear what I think of you? I got a whole list of ‘em in mind. They might not all be flattering, just so you know.”

You secretly hoped they wouldn’t be. “That’s fine. Go for it.”

“Well, there’s the animal related ones. Puppy, dog, perro, cachorro (puppy), and then variants of those like doggy and perrito. Reminds you what you are to me, y’know? There’s also other animal terms like conejito (bunny) and osito (little bear). Basically, anything that lets you know how cute you are.” He reached over to pinch your cheek. 

You giggled. The attention and praise was definitely a perk to this whole arrangement. “That all sounds good.”

“And, if you’re a naughty little puppy.” His tone darkened to a rich growl and he dragged his hand down to your upper thigh, squeezing it hard before he spoke, “I may call you chucho, or a dirty little mutt.” He spat that last word at you with mock disdain. 

The idea of him changing up like that, getting rough with you, putting you in your place, that was another perk. Honestly, you weren’t sure if you were more excited for the praise or the punishment. “Oh… Oh wow…”

He leaned in closer to you, his breath hitting your face. You wondered how he could watch the road like that, but maybe that’s why he drove you through the middle of nowhere. In his mind, you were the only thing worth watching. “You like that?”

“Yeah…”

He showed you how quick he could change by pulling back and switching back to his friendly tone. He gave you whiplash, but not from how he was driving. “Good! ‘Cause I got more. You’re okay with me being mean to you?”

You were more than okay with it, especially if he would say it in that same sexy tone. “Yeah, I mean, like, just don’t call me a girl and you can pretty much say whatever you want.”

“Heh, I’ll keep that in mind.” He patted your thigh before putting his hand back on the wheel once more. 

A few more hours, a few more rest stops, and a few more hundreds of miles, and you pulled up to what looked more like a military base than your future home, complete with friendly, welcoming armed guards and a concrete wall topped with warm, fuzzy, barbed wire. 

Actually, the armed guards were friendly and welcoming, once they realized who was coming at least. Lalo rolled down his window and spoke to a man with a ponytail, who greeted him with a smile. 

“¡Buenas tardes, señor! (Good afternoon, sir!)” He pointed at you in the passenger seat and leaned on the window. “Ooh, ¿es este el nuevo chico? ¡Él es más lindo de lo que usted dijo! (Ooh, is that the new kid? He’s cuter than you said!)” Apparently, his other employees referred to him with the same formalities.

“¡Ay, ay! ¡Mucho ojo, cabrón! (Ay, ay! Watch it, asshole!)” He laughed and pushed him off the side of the car. “Pero sí, es él. Parece un buen chico, ¿verdad? (But yeah, that’s him. He looks like a good boy, right?)” He turned to you. “This is Miguel. He’s one of the guards I have working here.”

Your eyes were fixated on the gigantic rifle across the man’s chest, enough so that you forgot your vocabulary from Spanish 101. “Bien a… bien a conocerte? (Nice to… Nice to meet you?)”

The two men laughed, but you could tell it was all in good fun. Lalo smiled, “Ah, tan tonto… (Ah, so silly...)” and petted your hair again as he corrected you. “You’re kinda right, but ‘Mucho gusto’ is what you’re trying to say, mijo (my boy).”

You blushed the tiniest bit and course-corrected. “Oh, lo siento. ¡Mucho gusto, Miguel! (Oh, sorry. Nice to meet you, Miguel!)”

“Igualmente, chiquito. (Likewise, kiddo.)” Miguel turned around and punched in a code on the keypad. “Listo, patrón. (All set, boss.)” Another term you shared for him. 

“¡Bien! ¡Gracias! (Nice! Thank you!)” Lalo waved him off as he pulled through the gate. He could see the tension in your face and slung his arm over your shoulder. “What, did the gun freak you out? Ah, don’t worry about that. He’s just compensating for something, y’know?” That got a hearty snort from you. “Nah, but really, he’s a nice guy. All of my people are great. I told them all about you, y’know.” He drove up to a spot in his massive driveway and parked the car.

His last statement tied your stomach into a knot. You couldn’t imagine facing an entire army of employees, your potential coworkers, knowing what they knew. “Uh… all about me? Like… what exactly?”

Lalo turned the car off and unbuckled his seatbelt. “Well, basically, your personality, your looks, how we met, and what you’ll be doing here. They don’t need to know all the details. Just enough to know what to expect, right?” 

You unbuckled yours as well, even though you were now mortified to step out of the car. “What I’ll be doing here? How the hell did you explain that?”

Lalo waved off your concerns, “Oh, what, are you worried about? That they’re gonna judge you for it? Don’t be silly! They know better than that. Honestly, they’re all psyched to meet you. Now, c’mon, you’ll see what I mean!” He opened his door and saw you reach for yours, “No, no, let me get that for you, sweetheart.” He stepped out of the car and walked around to your side, opening your door and offering his hand for you to take.

“Thanks.” You gave him a timid smile as you took his hand and stepped out. Sure enough, a couple steps later and you saw an eager crowd of people waving you over. 

Lalo raised the hand you were holding and called out to the crowd as he approached, “¡Aquí él está! Entonces, tengo suerte, ¿o qué? (Here he is! So, am I lucky or what?)” He let go of your hand and patted you on the back. Knowing his ego, he definitely wanted to show you off. 

An older woman was the first to answer him with a voice that sounded like how fresh baked cookies smelled. “Claro, tienes razón, mijo. (Of course, you’re right, my boy.)” She approached you and held her arms out for a hug, which you graciously accepted. “¡Bienvenidos, querido! Estamos encantados de tenerte aquí. (Welcome, dear! We’re happy to have you here.)” she said, hugging you with all the love in her heart. Oh, god, that wasn’t his mother, right? You dreaded to think of how that conversation must have gone.

Lalo introduced her as she let go of you, “This is Yolanda. She’s my housekeeper, cook, and the reason why I have such a fat belly!” He laughed and patted his stomach, clearly exaggerating. In reality, he was only slightly pudgy, but hey, you liked a man with a little squish. Much better to cuddle with. “Let me tell you, she looks sweet, but her cooking is dangerous. I’m told she's got something great planned for us, you’ll see.”

A young man, even younger than you were, raised his hand to ask a question. He looked tense, probably afraid to speak out of turn. “Uh, perdón, ¿señor? ¿Él habla español? (Uh, excuse me, sir? Does he speak Spanish?)”

Lalo scoffed, “¿Por qué te importa a tí? ¿Qué, le vas a decir que huir? (Why do you care? What, you gonna tell him to run?)” He was staring him down like he was trying to melt an ant with a magnifying glass. The kid looked like he was about to piss his pants, he was so nervous. Suddenly, Lalo burst out laughing and flicked the boy’s forehead. “¡Ah, solo te estoy jodiendo, chamaco! (Ah, I’m just fucking with you, kid!)” He then turned back to you. “This is Ciro. He’s another one of the guards here, believe it or not with a babyface like that. He was asking if you speak Spanish.”

“Oh! Hi! Uh…” You took a moment to think of an answer for him, “Comprendo más que yo hablo. Solo hablo un poquito. (I understand more than I speak. I only speak a little.)” You glanced over at Lalo, who gave you a thumbs up. 

Lalo snapped at him, both physically and verbally, though his words had an edge of sarcasm to them. “Entonces, no le digas algo estúpido a él. ¿Entiendes? (So, don’t say anything stupid to him. Understand?)”

Ciro nodded, “Sí, señor. Entiendo. (Yes, sir. I understand.)”

“Bueno. Pues ve a llevar sus cosas a mi habitación. Tiene dos maletas en la cajuela. (Good. Then go take his things up to my room. He’s got two suitcases in the trunk.)” Lalo patted the boy on the shoulder and handed him the keys. 

“Si, señor. (Yes, sir.)” Ciro replied before he ran off to get your bags from the car. 

While he was doing that, Lalo took the time to introduce you to his remaining staff: Cecilio, the gardener, and the other two guards, Herardo and Raul. Everyone seemed like decent, hardworking people, and you couldn’t wait for dinner tonight. After having said your hellos, Lalo said there was one more person you had to meet, a visitor, and he was waiting in the living room. 

Lalo led you into the house, guiding you with his hand on the small of your back. To the right of the foyer was the living room, where sure enough, someone was waiting for you: an older man in a white lab coat. A doctor?

“So!” Lalo gestured to the man standing before you. “This is Dr. Cruz. He’s been with my family for years. Actually, he helped deliver my little cousins Marco and Leonel when they were born, so we have a lot of trust in him. I just brought him in today to give you a quick checkup and see that you’re fit to work. Is that okay?” 

A physical? That seemed pretty excessive, but this was a new job, at the end of the day. You figured it wasn’t entirely abnormal. “Uh… yeah! Sure. I think I’m actually due for one, anyway.”

Dr. Cruz smiled at you. “Great. I just need to talk to Lalo here for one second, and then we can get started. Please, have a seat on the couch. I think that will be the best place for everything. It’s a pleasure to meet you, by the way.”

You returned the smile. “You too.”

As you sat down on the examination couch, Dr. Cruz walked Lalo over into the next room. You could hear bits and pieces of what they were saying, but you couldn’t decipher any of it. He spoke in a hushed voice. “Está seguro que yo no pueda disuadir a usted de esto? (Are you sure that I can’t talk you out of this?)”

Lalo responded at the same volume. “Estoy seguro. No quiero que él se pierda. Te pagaré doble por el molestia. (I’m sure. I don’t want him to get lost. I’ll pay you double for the inconvenience.)”

The doctor sighed. “Bien. Entonces… (Alright. So…)” He put on a friendly grin as he walked back over to you. He reached into a bag that was sitting on the coffee table and started pulling things out. Needles, syringes, bandages, alcohol wipes, and some other medical supplies you couldn’t quite name. Then, he pulled out a file and handed it to you. “These are your medical records from your time in MDC Albuquerque. Would you just tell me if the information here is up to date?”

You briefly wondered how in the hell he was able to get his hands on those, but hey, the cartel family doctor probably had connections. You scanned over a list of medications, vaccinations, diagnoses, allergies. Everything was correct. “Yeah. Looks good.” You said plainly and handed the file back to him.

“Alright, perfect.” Dr. Cruz accepted the file from you and placed it back in his bag. “Now, we need to take some blood to run labs. Just to make sure that nothing has changed and that you’re clear for work. Don’t worry, we won’t need much. Just a finger stick will be enough.”

Bloodwork? That seemed excessive too. But, come to think of it, you’d basically be sucking Lalo’s dick for a living. He probably wanted to make sure you wouldn’t give him anything. “Okay, yeah. Hit me.” You held your hand out. 

Dr. Cruz snapped some gloves on before he grabbed your wrist and stamped the needle into your fingertip. You winced at the stab, but it was over in a flash. Then, he milked your finger to get some blood, enough to fill up a small vial. “This will be used for STI testing. We’ll have the results back in a few days, but we’ll only call if you test positive for something. As far as we’re concerned, no news is good news.” Once the vial was full, he capped it and bandaged you up. He put the vial in a bag, sealed it, and stored it with the rest of his equipment. “Okay, last thing on the agenda. Your records state that you’re due for a tetanus shot. It’s a big injection, so I’ll have to numb you first. The injection site will bruise and be sore for about a day or two. Now I’m sure this is probably different from how they do it in the states, but this is how it’s done in Mexico.”

“Oh, really? Interesting.” You pondered, none the wiser to your boss’s plan. He’d exploited your naivete and trust in him to get you to do this, and it worked like a charm. You had no clue. “Yeah, I mean, if I’m due for it, might as well.” You rolled up the sleeve for your non-dominant arm.

“Perfecto.” Dr. Cruz said as he grabbed your forearm. He sanitized the underside of your bicep with an alcohol wipe. “First is the local anesthetic. Tiny pinch, but then you won’t feel a thing when we do the second one.” He positioned the syringe just below your muscle. “I’m gonna have you breathe in and out twice, and on the second exhale I’ll inject. You ready?”

“Yep.” You said, closing your eyes and calming your nerves.

“Alright. Breathe in…” Inhale.

“And out…” Exhale.

“And in…” Inhale.

“And out…” Exhale. Pinch. 

“Beautiful. Now, it’ll take about 30 seconds for the numbing to kick in. I’d advise that you keep your eyes closed while I prepare the vaccination. The needle size may frighten you.” 

“Sure thing.” You obliged, keeping your eyes closed and your arm out. You could hear the doctor rifling through his bag, unwrapping sterile equipment and popping containers open. It was hard to picture exactly what he was setting up, but you could tell he was done when he grabbed your forearm again. “Can you feel me touching you?” He asked. “Not where I’m holding you, I mean right here.” He poked your bicep again, not that you knew, of course.

“Where?” You asked. 

Dr. Cruz chuckled. “Okay, you’re numb. Now, same thing as the last one. I’m gonna have you take a deep breath twice before I stick you. Ready?”

“Yep.” You repeated.

“Breathe in…” Inhale.

“And out…” Exhale.

“And in…” Inhale.

“And out…” Exhale. You didn’t feel a pinch this time.

“Amazing. You can open your eyes.” As you did, you watched Dr. Cruz set the syringe on the coffee table and grab some gauze. He debriefed you as he wrapped it around your bicep. “The numbing will last for a few hours, so it’ll probably wear off in your sleep. You may bruise and be a bit sore tomorrow morning, and you can take the gauze off then as well. Try not to overwork the muscle for a day or two.” He taped the gauze to secure it, then patted you on your shoulder. “And you are good to go, my friend. I wish you all the best in your new position.”

You gave him a friendly smile. “Sounds good! Thanks so much!”

“No problem. I’d say see you around, but hopefully you won’t have to deal with me too much.” He laughed as he finished packing his bag. Once he was done, he grabbed it and turned over his shoulder to Lalo, “Y enviaré a usted la factura mañana. Me llame si él se molesta. (And I’ll send you the bill tomorrow. Call me if he has any problems.)”

“Claro. Gracias otra vez. (Of course. Thank you again.)” Lalo replied as he led the doctor outside, patting him on the back for a job well done. He shut the door, and finally, finally, he could focus on you, and he was chomping at the bit to get started.  “Alright! We’re good to go! Got the formalities out of the way, so now,” He sauntered over to you, swaying his hips as he walked. When he got to you, he snaked his hands behind your back and grabbed your ass. “Now, we can put you to work.”  You barely had time to react before he let you go, but not before giving you a playful spank. “Follow me, doggy.”

You squeaked at the literal pet name. Being ordered around by him felt better than you thought it would. This was going to be amazing. He led you up the stairs to his bedroom, though you were practically chasing him up with how excited you were. When you arrived, he closed the door behind you two. “Stay right here.” Lalo commanded. He walked over to the dresser and opened a fancy box that sat atop it. You heard the clinking of metal, and when he turned around, he was holding a black leather collar in one hand, and a chain leash in the other. You beamed at the sight of it. This is what you were here for. You couldn’t wait. You’d be such a good boy. Lalo knew that, but still, he had to ask. “You ready, puppy?”

“Yes, sir!” You responded cheerfully.

Lalo smiled and fastened the collar around your neck. His calloused fingers swept your hair out of the way; his hot breath billowing against your sensitive skin. It was intense. You could feel your thoughts fading away as you focused on getting into your new role; a cute, silly little puppy. You closed your eyes and let the warmth of his embrace dress you up. 

Lalo cupped your face in his hands and pressed a kiss to your forehead, whispering sweet nothings in his native tongue as he petted your hair and scratched behind your ears. “Oh, mi chico hermoso, eso es. Se veas perfecto con ese collar. Es como tú has nacido para ser mi perrito. Vas a ser un buen chico para mi, ¿verdad? ¿Vas a hacer lo que yo digo? Oh, sí, sí, buen chico. (Oh, my beautiful boy, that’s it. You look perfect in that collar. It’s like you were born to be my puppy. You’re gonna be a good boy for me, right? You’re gonna do what I say? Oh, yes, yes, good boy.) Such a good boy.”

Your head lulled from side to side, following his gentle touch. As he pulled back, your eyelids lifted up, and you saw his gorgeous face. Dark brown eyes half-lidded, his mouth curled into a smile. You were so happy to see him. You really did feel like a puppy, so bubbly and playful at the sight of their master. You gave him a goofy grin and said, “Hi…”, one of only a few words left in your brain.

“Hi, puppy.” Lalo cooed as he caressed your cheek. “You ready to get started for real?”

You nodded. You’d been ready for hours.

“Bueno.” Lalo hummed as he clipped the leash on your collar. Thus began the start of your first shift. You were working now. Henceforth, you were at his beck and call, his perfect little lapdog. “Now, I’m gonna teach you some tricks. I’ll say them in English and Spanish so you learn a bit. Okay?”

You giggled, already feeling hazy and obedient. “Okaaay…”

“Perfecto. Entonces… (Perfect. Now…)” Lalo backed off you to straighten his posture, and pulled the leash taut. “Siéntate. Sit.”

You dropped to your knees without a second thought and gave him a cherubic smile. If you had a tail, it’d definitely be wagging. You were anxious to make him proud of you.

“Good boy! So smart!” Lalo praised as he crouched down on one knee and held out his hand. “Dame la pata. Shake.”

You laid your hand in his and waited for your next command.

“Bueno. ¿Puedes hablar? Can you speak for me, boy?”

You could. Barely. “Yes, Don Eduardo.”

Lalo smirked and shook his head. “Oh, no no no. Not like that, mijo. Like a dog. Habla. Speak. Let me hear you bark, okay?”

You blushed, but you wanted to be a good boy. And good boys do as they’re told, no matter how embarrassing it may be. “Woof! Woof!”

Lalo couldn’t help but laugh. You were just so cute! “Oh, that’s perfect! Good boy!” He kissed your forehead again before standing up. He tugged the leash to get your attention. “Stand up. Levántate. Two legs.”

You rose to your feet and stood upright, hoping it wouldn’t be for too long. It was hard to act like a puppy when you were standing like a person.

Lalo could read your mind. His next command solved the problem you were thinking of. “All fours. Cuatro patas.”

You smiled and went down on your hands and knees for him.

He sat on the edge of the bed and pulled on the leash. “Ven aquí. Come here.” 

You crawled over to him and knelt between his legs. Instinctively, you rested your hands on his thighs, before realizing he didn’t tell you to touch him. You started to pull away, but Lalo interrupted you.

“You can keep them there. That’s fine.” He traced his fingers from your collar up to your chin and tilted your face up to his. “You’re a real lapdog, aren’t you? You want your master to take care of you, right boy?”

You nodded.

Lalo tugged the leash and gave you a firm command. “Habla. Speak.”

“Woof!”

He snickered again. God, you were just perfect for this. “Oh, good boy. I’m gonna have so much fun with you.” He tapped his hand on the bed. “Arriba. Up. Up on the bed, and then get in my lap.”

You crawled onto the bed, the smile never breaking from your face as you sat in his lap. Lalo’s hands dragged down your back, mapping the curves of your hips. He took his time admiring his new pet. “You can use words now, puppy. ¿Quieres tu patrón que te haga sentir bien? (You want your master to make you feel good?)” 

You whimpered and nuzzled into his neck, trying to translate and then answer him in Spanish. “S-Sí, patrón… (Y-Yes, master…)”

Lalo’s hand made its way back up your spine, your breath shuddering as he traced his finger up. “Mírame. Look at me.” He took a handful of your hair and tugged your head off his shoulder. You let out a soft gasp and met his gaze. He was staring you down. Before, you’d felt calmed and nurtured by his attention. At this moment, you felt weak. Exposed. He was just so intimidating. He had you quite literally in the palm of his hand, right where he wanted you. He kept you waiting for longer than you would have liked, almost like he was sizing you up, trying to see when you’d break. Once your anxiety reached its peak, he pressed his lips against yours.

You sighed into the kiss and collapsed onto him, your arms slumping onto his shoulders, gripping his silk shirt. Lalo’s lips enveloped yours, his tongue pushing inside your mouth to swipe across your own. His teeth tugged your bottom lip. Since he was holding onto you by your hair, he slipped his hand through the loop of the leash and let it explore, groping your chest, your ass, your thighs, eventually letting his hand rest on your front between your legs, cupping you through your jeans. 

Even though you were the dog, you praised your master, “Oh, fuck, Lalo...”

Your master yanked your hair back and reprimanded you. “No, no. You’re working. What’s my name?”

Panting like the dog you were, you tried to parse the meaning of his question. When you got it, you said it. “Don Eduardo…”

Lalo confirmed your answer, “Good boy,” and took your lips back in his. He released his grip on your hair and moved to unbutton your shirt, unwrapping you like a gift with his name on it, “Oh, chico, you have no idea how much I missed this.” He placed an open mouth kiss on your neck, just above the collar, “I missed that tight little hole,” and on the other side, “Always so wet and needy for me,” and bit down enough to leave you with a glaring mark. 

You wanted to moan his name again, but hesitated. Lalo seemed to roll off the tongue more easily than Don Eduardo, especially when you lacked the brainpower to talk more than absolutely necessary. Thankfully, you recovered. “La-ah… oh, fuck, patrón…”

Lalo peeled your shirt off and let it fall to the floor. “Yeah?” He asked, biting on the other side of your neck. “You like that, puppy? Habla.”

This time, your bark wasn’t loud and confident. It was akin to the yip of an overstimulated Pomeranian. “W-Woof, woof…” you whimpered. 

“That’s it…” He pried himself from your neck and tugged the leash. “Date la vuelta. Roll over. On your back.” 

You scurried off his lap and onto the full expanse of the mattress, flopping onto your back with your knees propped up. It was much softer than the prison bed you two were on last time you did this. Lalo climbed over you and worked your pants off, then everything of his except his boxers. He pushed your legs apart and smiled at the visible wet spot in your underwear. 

“Aw, perrito, look at you! I got you all worked up, huh?” He was honestly one to talk, judging by the tent in his boxers, but you weren’t about to argue, especially when his face was mere inches away from your core. Lalo slid your underwear off and threw it over his shoulder. He laid down on his stomach and pushed your thighs up to your chest, revealing your weeping, aching hole. He bit his lip at the sight, and flicked his eyes up to yours. “It’s good to see you again.” He said before diving in headfirst.

You gasped as his tongue swiped up and down your cunt, lapping up as much of your wetness as he could. He pulled away to warm you up some more, leaving wet kisses and sharp bites on your squishy thighs. The teasing made you whine, though not as loudly as he’d like. He took your t-dick into his mouth and started to suck, which gave him the exact response he was looking for.

“Ah! F-Fuck! Fuck!” You cried as your hands scrambled for something to hold on to. One found the sheets, and the other his hair. Keeping him still, you bucked your hips up and started to fuck his mouth, whimpering pure nonsense the whole time. Just combinations of “please”, “fuck”, “more", and the cutest little sounds he’d heard in a while. 

Lalo let you have your fun. He even winked at you, which you interpreted as a signal for “Yeah, you like that?” He took one of his hands off your thighs and brought it down. You didn’t realize why, until you heard some soft grunting. You felt the mattress bounce, just a tiny bit, and strong vibrations against your cock. He was stroking himself, feverishly so, to the point where he couldn’t take it anymore. 

Lalo ripped his head up and gasped for air. “Dios mío… (My god…)” He laughed breathlessly before getting off the bed and tugging his boxers down. “I hate to rush this, but… I don’t think either of us can wait any longer.”

He was right, of course. You’d been waiting for this moment ever since you got out of prison. No bars, no guards, no spectators, no worries. Just him filling you up and fucking you into the rest of your life, a life of luck, luxury, and lust. He hopped back onto the bed and positioned himself in front of you. You held your legs open for him, making it easy for him to slide inside. He gripped the base of his cock, and looked into your eyes for approval. You nodded, and he pushed in.

The sensation of being full was too much for you to keep quiet. Reflexively, you moaned his name. “Oh! Lalo! La-ah!” Your praise for him was cut short by a slap across the face.

“No! Bad boy!” He tugged you up by the leash to face him. “I told you, you’re working. And what’s my name when you’re working?” He snarled.

You hastily corrected your mistake. “Don Eduardo! Don Eduardo! I’m sorry, Don Eduardo!”

“Much better.” Lalo lessened his grip on the leash, allowing you enough slack to fall back against the pillow and hook your legs around his waist. He gave you a hard thrust, making sure he bottomed out inside you. Then another. And another, until he had a good rhythm going. His efforts earned him a slew of pathetic babbling from you.

“Don Eduardo! Don Eduardo! Ah! Fuck…! Fuck me! Please!”

As much as he loved hearing you beg, he didn’t want you bossing him around. He was the master here, not you. You were his dog, his bitch. He lowered himself down, pressing his elbows into the mattress, and shut you up with a kiss. You hugged him tight, whining into his mouth as he rutted inside you. He pulled away and growled into your ear. “Eso es. Tómalo. Tómalo, puto. Eres mío. Eres mío y de nadie más. Perteneces a mí, y voy a follarte como la perra que eres. (That’s it. Take it. Take it, whore. You’re mine. You’re mine and no one else’s. You belong to me, and I’m gonna fuck you like the bitch you are.)

You couldn’t hear a word he was saying over your own cries and the obscene sounds your bodies made. He held you tight against him as he used your body like a toy. You couldn’t move or fight him off, not that you’d want to, but you were completely powerless, and in turn, he had complete power over you. From now on, at any time he wanted, he could clip a leash onto your collar and take you for himself. You’d spend the rest of your life looking over your shoulder, knowing that you could be stripped naked and fucked senseless at any moment. Exhilarating, thrilling, intoxicating, none of these words seemed to fully encapsulate what you were feeling.

You choked on his formal title as you pleaded for mercy, mercy that you didn’t expect to get. “D-Don Eduardo! Don Eduardo! I’m gonna…! Oh, fuck, I’m gonna cum!”

“Oh, already? Is that right?” Lalo sneered and slithered one of his hands in between you two. He gripped your dick and started to stroke it, knowing that was the key to making you break. “Do it then! C’mon, puppy! Be a good boy and cum for me!” 

You didn’t need him to tell you twice, or even once, for that matter. You orgasmed on his command, squirting hard enough to force his cock out of you. You sobbed into his shoulder, overwhelmed and overstimulated, clinging to him for support through it all. When it was over, you collapsed back against the bed, gasping for air and relief.

Lalo sat up for a moment, admiring how beautiful you looked when you were too pleasured to think: your face flushed, chest rising and falling, tongue hanging out of your mouth. You really were like a puppy, all tuckered out from playtime. It was adorable. 

You stared up at the ceiling as you basked in the afterglow of climax. It was like lying on the beach at sunset. The warmth of your body heat being cooled by the dots of sweat on your brow; the oxytocin flooding your brain like waves on the shore. Blissful. Peaceful. Serene.

Yet you had no vacation time left to use. You were called in to work by your master slamming his cock into you and bringing you back to reality. You yelped and stared up at him in shock as he pumped in and out of your abused hole.

“What?” He scoffed. “What did you expect, doggy? You’re not finished ‘til I finish.”

You weren’t sure how many times he made you cum that night, but the last thing you remember was dozing off with his seed spilling out of you.

–

You woke up the next morning in Lalo’s bed, alone. On his pillow, there was a note. You reached for it and rubbed the sleep out of your eyes to read it. It said: 

Good morning, puppy! Great job yesterday! Come to the kitchen when you’re awake and I’ll cook you breakfast. 

XOXO,

Lalo.

You smiled. He was so sweet. You folded the note and stretched to put it on the nightstand, but suddenly, you felt a jolt of pain in your bicep. Right, the tetanus shot. The numbing had worn off. Oh well, at least you could take the gauze off by now. You unwrapped your arm, and just as you suspected, there was a nasty bruise at the injection site. Going against better judgment, you pressed down on the mark. Something you felt shocked you enough to recoil, not the tender bruise itself, but rather the foreign object implanted underneath it.

That’s when it hit you. 

When Lalo said you were gonna be his dog, he meant it. You were to be collared and at his beck and call 24/7, and in return he’d give you food, water, a place to live, companionship, everything a responsible dog owner should provide.

And what else do responsible owners do for their dogs?

They microchip them so they can’t run away.