#vulgar ch 11

[lunarmessenger]

vulgar. - chapter eleven.

Jumin smiled once he heard Y/N's answer, the success of his dinner making his heart soar with joy as he elegantly finished his glass of wine. Y/N followed suit, finishing her glass of wine with ease as she pushed away from the table and stood. Jumin furrowed his brows in confusion, patting his mouth dry with his napkin before standing as well.

"Where are you going?" He found himself wanting her to stay, the gears in his mind turning rapidly as he tried to think of something to keep her in the apartment. Being with Y/N brought a large wave of feelings that he was not used to; frustration, anxiety, excitement. It was all so new, and he wasn't ready to feel those emotions slip away as he followed her towards the front door. She was puzzled, furrowing her brows with a slight laugh as she gestured towards the door.

“Back to the apartment with Jaehee? We’ve reached our agreement so I figured you’d like to get back to whatever you were working on prior. You’re a busy man.” With another small smile she turned to leave but jumped as he placed a hand on the frame of the door before she’d opened it.

“Y/N…” She kept her back facing him but turned her head slightly to look backwards and up towards him. Her expression was littered with patience as he struggled to figure out what to say, his brows furrowing in frustration at himself. Never, in his short life had he struggled to continue a conversation, to prolong any meeting or discussion. Yet, that was all business, and while Y/N’s involvement with the RFA was a part of the business to a degree, she as a person was not. All the while Y/N was trying hard to understand the expression in his dark eyes, not knowing him well enough yet just to have a grasp on what he was thinking.

Her eyes traveled to the grand piano that was slightly peeking itself around the corner of the long hallway leading to his study. Curiosity flared inside her eyes as she gestured her head from Jumin to the piano. He furrowed his brows once more before following her gaze, removing his arm while she wordlessly walked down the hall towards the piano.

“Do you play?” He frowned as he watched her slide onto the bench with ease, her hands running across the wooden keys as she glanced up at him with a single raised brow, as if to ask him again.

“Of course I do. Why else would I have it in my home?”

“I know a lot of rich people that own a piano, and don’t know how to play.” She huffed in defiance, Jumin guffawing in shock at her quick snap back at him. She smirked in satisfaction before continuing, keeping her gaze on the keys as she placed her fingers accordingly.

“My mom wanted me to learn, thought I was rather musically inclined. I am, I guess, but it’s not what I love.” She pressed down on the keys with a skillfull ease, a strong note ringing clear across the room. The vibrant noise made her look around, realizing how different his study was to the rest of the house that she’d seen so far. His large desk, made of rich, chestnut mahgony stood proud in the center on top of a black fur rug. There was a black leather couch with a gray soft throw blanket draped over the back, white cat fur lingering on the sofa with some work files.

To her surprise, a record player sat neatly on a small coffee table, a large glass case holding a variety of music. He had bookshelves lining the back walls behind the desk, filled to the brim with economic studies, tax information, and other assorted themes in topics that she didn’t expect. Cat health, cat behavioral books, though one title made a slight gasp leave her lips as she flipped her legs over the bench and rushed to the bookshelf.

Jumin calmly followed her with a blank expression, yet curiosity and fascination flooded his chest as he watched Y/N. She flipped her hair behind her back to keep it out of her way as she knelt on the floor, eyes focused on the spine of the book she wanted as she gently coaxed it out of the shelf. Once his eyes fell on the title of the book, Jumin’s cheeks flared a bright red, his expression stuffy as he quickly knelt down on one knee and snatched the book from her.

“Hey!” She yelped in protest as she felt the hardcover slip against her fingertips, the book disappearing behind his back as she quickly rose to her feet. She stared up at him with a large pout, eyes searching for an explanation until her gaze slightly softened. This was the most flustered she had ever seen anyone, let alone the Jumin Han. He wasn’t saying anything, but he was desparately keeping the book out of her reach as he had migrated across the study.

“I think you’ve stayed long enough.” The flatness in his voice made her a touch nervous, but she was just as stubborn as she slowly made her way towards him.

“Now, I don’t think that’s fair. First you wanted me to stay, now that I’ve found something peculiar about you, I’m demanded to leave? I don’t operate that way.” Y/N felt her heart beat faster at the course of action she was taking, trying to figure out or understand why she was doing this. The click of her heels was softened occasionally by the multiple rugs layered throughout his study, warm air softly blowing the ribbon she’d placed in her hair loose. She hadn’t noticed; her eyes had switched from the book to him. He was backing away from her, not paying attention until the back of his knees gave way to his large desk chair.

Y/N stopped just a couple of inches away from his seated figure, hands behind her back as she leaned forward. She didn’t miss the way his breath slightly sped up, the way his eyes kept flickering from her eyes to her parted lips. She wanted the book, wanted to ask him why he reacted so strongly to her finding it. She wanted something else, too.

Her ribbon had slid down so it was now to the side of her head, Jumin taking his chance to turn the dynamic as he reached a large hand up towards the ribbon. It was her turn to have a hiccup in breath, her eyes flickering to the left to watch his hand. He moved slowly, deliberately as he gently untied the ribbon. It now softly slid across her hair and cheek, the silk fresh with her perfume and hair product as it plopped into the palm of his hand.

“You need to tie this tighter.” She watched as he placed the book into a filing cabinet next to the desk, and before she could have a chance to protest, it was shut tight. Instead her attention stayed on the ribbon, the way he wrapped it around his fingers then brought it to his face. It was her turn to blush a deep hue of red as she watched his chest rise with a deep inhale, his eyes fluttering shut as the smell of vanilla, honey, and cinnamon seduced his senses. He looked like he was in esctacy from her smell alone, and it made her fidget in ways she didn’t know how to describe.

“I think I should be going Mr. Han.” Her voice, usually strong and unwavering, came out soft and almost seductive, her tone surprising her as she bowed quickly and fixed her gaze to the floor. She made a slight face at the rug beneath her; what the hell was that? What is this? What were they doing? Why? Didn’t she hate him?

That thought made her flare up like a rooster, and just as she was about to rise and blow him off with a smart comment, she felt the soft touch of his finger on her chin. The soft pressure forced her to tilt her head so that her gaze now rested on him, not the floor. He was leaning forward in the chair, one hand resting lazily in his lap while the other was holding her gaze to his. His gray eyes reminded her of a dark ocean, the waves angry and surging as they slammed any boat into the rocks of consciousness. She hoped hers would be spared.

“I believe that is a wise; extremely wise decision. Thank you for joining me for dinner. We’ll discuss my father—” Before he could finish she had stepped forward and taken the ribbon back from his loose hands, the soft silk reassuring her actions as she leaned in close. They were so close their noses could touch, her soft breath slightly stammering as she spoke.

“Thank you for dinner.” With that she abruptly stood up and quickly turned back towards the hallway, her hair fanning out behind her from the sudden movement. She didn’t wait for him to say anything, nervously speedwalking to the front door. When she’d reached the knob she turned back around to see if he had followed her, and he had; he was staring from across the now empty and cleaned dining table.

“Thank you for coming.” His deep voice was soft as he stared deeply at her, his gaze making her shiver as she gave a curt nod and turned back towards the door. Her shaking hands fumbled for just a moment before they steadied and she’d opened the door, quickly stepping out and shutting the large door behind her with a quick exhale. She was holding her breath that entire time, she’d just realized, bracing her weight on the door as she bent over and held her knees.

“Wow.”

[anisespice]

“ hate your boyfriend ” || tokyo rev. pt. 2

one

synopsis: " you can pick me or your little boy. "

pairing: college!toman x gn!reader

warnings: mature language, sexual themes, MDI. toxic!toman, cheater!reader (pumpkin eater!!), enabling behavior, mild violence, vague descriptions of sex (cause i’m lazy), vulgar language, corny marvel joke, dirty-talk, moral compass is a roulette wheel in this one lol and i think that’s it :P 

notes: did a little continuation of the first one before doing more characters lol i’m happy you guys liked the concept, lemme know who you’d like to see next :))) i don’t hate this one, but i don’t love it either (except maybe mikey’s) buuuut hope yall enjoy! <333

tagged: @fantasycantasy , @spacegirl05​

A week had passed since the whole kick-back fiasco, and MIKEY had gone awol. Aki was over the moon about it, for obvious reasons; as far as he was concerned, he scared him off. Besides, the less you hung around the delinquent, the better for both of you.

“That guy’s just a nuisance, babe. Good riddance.”

Little did he know, this was a regular occurrence. Mikey always did this—Disappeared for days on end, only to pop right back up like he never left. Whether it be due to gang related issues, or because he felt like it, this frustrating habit was one of the reasons you invited him that night, despite knowing he’d pick a fight with Aki. You had missed him…in more ways than one. You knew it was only a matter of time before he came back to you.

And in the wee hours of the night, not far after said boyfriend left your place, you received a lone message from the former blonde himself.

from : bad influence ♡ 11:03pm     “ omw. ”

Short, but effective. His timing was impeccable, how he always managed to text the second you were alone was beyond you, but it made your heart race all the same. It was wrong, you knew that, Aki deserved better than someone who snuck around. You didn’t mean for it to get this far, but that was a guilt you’d deal with later. Mikey was your drug of choice, and tonight you craved another fix.

to : bad influence ♡ 11:07pm       “ okay. but just for a little while. ”

Even if you tried to play coy, to salvage whatever weak moral you had left, it didn’t matter—The only one you were fooling tonight was Aki.

from : bad influence ♡ 11:08pm      “ mhm. sure, angel. ”

It was a wonder how you didn’t draw blood with how harshly you clawed at his shoulders, fighting between wanting him closer or wanting to push him away. Mikey didn’t mind, though. On the contrary, he encouraged you to leave marks. As tempted as he was to leave his own, he figured beating up your insides would suffice.

Knowing you’ll struggle to walk tomorrow was all the reward he needed.

“God—fuuck,” he slurred, after a particularly hard thrust made you arch off the bed, forcing him to sink deeper. He gazed down at you with an all too pleased grin as you begged him for more. How could he deny you when you sounded so desperate? “Taking me so well, angel…always so good f’me…”

“J-Jiro..! Ahplease!” You sobbed, your knees practically knocking upside your temples as he increased momentum. Mikey snickered, angling his hips to continue ramming the spot that made your eyes cross, moans reaching octaves you didn’t even know you could hit.

“Mm, been feening for this dick, huh? Yeah? Maybe we should call up that smug bastard, let ‘em see how such good friends we are, right [______]? Bet he was real proud thinkin’ he got me to fuck off…but we both know who you really belong to. Don’t we?”

He wasn’t sorry. That’s the short end of it.

The moment Takeru decided to act all big and bad, breaking stuff in a place where he paid no bills, it was in DRAKEN’s right to set him straight; mama may not have raised him, but he still ain’t no bitch.

It took some coaxing on your end, but you were able to reel Draken back from turning your boyfriend inside out. But, after he forced him to pick up every broken piece of the lamp, he told Takeru to choose a number between one and ten.

“…Why?” Was his response. Draken raised a brow.

“That’s how many shards I’m gonna shove up your nose.”

“Ken!”

The look on the shorter male’s face was worth it, earning a threatening smirk from the mechanic as he slapped a heavy hand on his shoulder. “Ahh, y’look like you were about to shit yourself, man! Nah, I’m not gonna hurt you.”

For a moment, there’s relief in your boyfriend’s eyes. It was short-lived, of course. Especially once Draken’s grip tightened around his shoulder. “But I will. Don’t ever let me catch you pop off on [_____] like that again. Would hate for you to have to pick yourself up off the floor next time. You feel me?”

With a gulp, he gave a shaky nod; now he really looked like he shat himself. “Y-Yes…”

“Hah? Yes, what?”

“Y-Yes, Draken, sir?”

He rewarded the poor sucker’s obedience with a couple taps to the cheek just to spite him before sending him on his way. It was met with little protest, Takeru scurrying out of the room with lamp pieces still in his palms, not even sparing you a passing glance. 

“Text you later?” You called at his retreating form. When all you got was the sound of your front door slamming shut in response, you swiftly turned on your heel to aim a dejected frown at your other houseguest. Draken sardonically pouted back at you, reaching over to pinch your cheek until you swatted his hand away. “Why’d you do that, you totally freaked him out!” 

He wasn’t sorry. Draken shrugged. “Good.” 

Merely rolling your eyes, you headed for the small broom and dustpan in your closet to gather what little pieces Takeru left behind–Might as well busy yourself to delay addressing the elephant still in the room. Unfortunately, said elephant wasn’t about to let that happen. Before you could even think of sweeping anything, Draken gently grabbed your elbow, those same eyes that stared death into your boyfriend’s soul now filled with something else as they appraised you, melting through whatever cold exterior you tried to aim at him.

He leaned down closer, sporting a slanted grin that sent signals straight down to your core. Sometimes, you despised how easily he made your insides flutter by just existing.

“How much longer y’gonna entertain that fucking loser, huh? He wouldn’t know the first thing about handling someone like you.”

You hummed, fighting the giddy tremble in your body at the challenging air that surrounded you both. With the inkling of boldness you had, you took the bait. “What, like you would?”

He wasn’t sorry; you’d be though.

The way Draken split you in half would make Lucifer himself bite the pillow. Hovering over his gigantic frame, chest bare with your hands perched on each pec, he manhandled you to take every unforgiving inch of his dick, having you feeling downright discombobulated as your hips struggled to keep momentum.

Forget about seeing stars, at some point, you were certain you saw into the quantum realm; say hi to Ant-Man for me.

“K-Kenny...I can’t...t’s too much!” 

He cooed up at you, though there wasn’t an ounce of sympathy in his tone. If anything, Draken enjoyed himself thoroughly, tongue-in-cheek as he watched you fall apart in his lap, just like he knew you would. With the way you tightened up around him like a vice, as if your own body was against the thought of him stopping, the former blonde chuckled breathlessly.

“Use the safe word then, doll.”

You glared down at him, to the best of your ability. With him practically jabbing you in the lung, it was more than difficult to say the rebuttal as smartly as you wanted to. “Y-you think…you’re so-oh! So f-funny…”

He did. Absolutely he did. By making your boyfriend’s name the safe word, nothing would soften his dick quicker. Plus, he knew you didn’t need it; just like you didn’t need Takeru.

“What? It’d be the only way you’d ever scream it anyways.”

“Welcome back.”

You paused mid-step upon entering your apartment, not expecting the ravenette to still be there. With a deep exhale, you paid him no mind as you kicked off your shoes, irritated after a tiresome process of checking your boyfriend into the hospital.

To say BAJI did a number on him would be an understatement…Man’s fucked him up. Sure, maybe Makoto could’ve watched his tone when talking to someone with such a short fuse, but Baji could’ve at least exercised a little restraint.

…Oh, who were you kidding? It’s Baji.

“What, ya not talkin’ to me?” Barely sparing him a glance, you set your bag on the coffee table before heading for the bedroom for a much-needed shower. Baji didn’t take kindly to being ignored. He huffed, standing to meet you halfway as he trailed behind you. Even when you attempted to close the door in his face, he shouldered his way in anyway; it was gonna take more than that to deter him.

“Quit being mad…said I was sorry, damn.”

“No you didn’t,” you replied, incredulously. You really tried it with the silent treatment, but knowing him, it was only a matter of seconds before he'd get you talking again. Taking off the sweats you threw on in haste earlier, you continued. “You said, and I quote, ‘Talk shit, get hit,’ then fell asleep on the couch while I had to haul Makoto to the emergency room!”

Baji shuffled his feet, “…Well, I meant to say it. Jus' forgot.”

You scoffed, walking into your bathroom. "What are you even still doing here? Don't you have someone else's day to shit on?”

“Y’kicking me out now?” He teased, raising a brow. What he didn't expect was for you to start throwing your toiletries at him. Although his reflexes saved him for the most part, Baji still got hit a few times as he attempted to dodge between a shampoo bottle and mouthwash. "Whoa! Hey-!"

“Maybe I should! Do you have any idea how hard it was to get him in and out of my car with all that dead weight, let alone into the building? Not to mention, his emergency contacts were his uppity-ass parents, so after they chewed me out, I had to lie and say he saved me from getting mugged.”

“...They buy it?”

You tilted your head, exasperated. "Wow. And here I thought the next thing out of your mouth would be that apology you 'forgot' to say earlier…[Sigh] Whatever. You just better hope when Makoto wakes up he doesn't remember anything, or else we're both in deep shit."

“Tsk. The fuck’s he gonna do?”

“He could literally sue us.” You deadpanned.

“He’s a pussy, he wouldn’t be stupid enough to try me again. And if he gives you any shit for it, you let me know. I’ll take care of it.”

“Oh, you mean like how you did today? Pass.”

He groaned, “I said sorry!”

“No you didn’t! And still haven’t!”

At the moment, it felt like the conversation would just continue in circles. With Baji stubbornly claiming he was in the right, and you combating his warped logic with colorful language and more stuff thrown at him, it's a wonder how things ended up here–With your face pressed against the cold shower wall as he gave you his fucking apology.

Over, and over, and over again.

While one hand wrapped around the column of your throat, fingers shoved knuckle-deep into your mouth to pacify the excessive whines tumbling out, the other made use of gripping the meat of your thigh, giving you no chance of running from the punishing thwap of his hips ramming against your wet ass-cheeks. The water cascading over your bodies had long turned cold as Baji chased after orgasm number five, his muscles ached from the strain, but he'd be damned to stop until he was certain all was forgiven.

Even if it meant missing every single one of Makoto's phone calls.

“God, I am so, so sorry, Takashi. Can’t believe he just…I-I’ve never seen him act like that before. Does it hurt?”

MITSUYA, despite the sting in his split lip, gave you an easy grin. “Nah, y’know I’ve been through worse. Fucker hits like one of my younger sisters.”

You had brought him back to your place to ice the bruise forming on his jaw, still frazzled over what occurred in the last half hour. Back at the restaurant, everything seemed fine when you excused yourself to the bathroom, having a blast knowing that your two favorite people were actually getting along. Unbeknownst to you, there was a storm brewing in Hajime. And the second you were out of sight, he used this opportunity to set a record straight with Mitsuya.  

Evidently, he allowed his fists to do the talking. 

You groaned, rubbing down your face in distress. “We’ll probably never get to set foot in that restaurant again...’m so embarrassed.”

“Hey,” he softly reprimanded, “Don’t sweat it, t’s not your fault-”

“I’m the one who begged you to let him come with us in the first place. I mean, I know you two butt heads from time to time, but I didn’t think it’d ever turn that serious. Please, Taka, just tell me what happened.”

Mitsuya shook his head, about to lower the ice pack until you shot him a pointed look. With a small exhale through his nose, he kept it on his jaw while he spoke. “I told you, he was probably pissed he couldn’t get a free meal outta me-”

“Don’t bullshit me, Haji wouldn’t explode like that over a fucking chicken sandwich.” You huffed, frustrated at his evasive behavior. He was holding back information on purpose, you were certain. Ever since the fitting, he'd been acting weird all evening. And that fight only solidified your suspicions. “Just tell me what started it!” 

"Doesn’t matter."

"Taka-"

"Let it go, [______]." He laid back on your couch and made himself comfortable, even so much as turning on your tv to fill over the dead conversation. Mitsuya trained his eyes on the lit-up screen, still icing his jaw as he subtly avoided eye contact.

You could just scream.

Childishly, you snatched the remote from his hand and switched it back off. The lavender haired threw his head back in defeat, the hand holding the ice pack slowly coming down as Mitsuya eyed you from his peripheral; so stubborn.

“Be honest. It was about me again, wasn’t it?” His silence spoke volumes. “So it was then. Ugh, okay listen, I get that you’re both really protective of me, I do, but that doesn’t excuse-”

“I’m in love with you.”

You choked. Though, only on your words.

With that now hanging up in the air, you gaped like a damn goldfish, the remote slipping out your grasp and clambering to the floor with a clack. Mitsuya exhaled; no turning back now. “You…huh?”

“Yep. Have been for a while, actually.” He placed his arms behind the couch, wry smirk on his face. “Planned to tell you over dinner tonight, but that backfired fast, no thanks to that walking steroid you call a boyfriend.”

“Y-…You’re messing with me. Right?” The designer offered a humorless laugh, gesturing to his split lip and bruised jaw.

“Didn’t get hit for saying what a great pal you were, [______].”

Now it was your turn to be silent. A lump began to form in your throat, overwhelmed with the newfound information, borderline confession.

“So then…what did you say to Haji to make him so angry?”

For a split second, you saw a glint within his pools of amethyst as they slowly rendered to a deep violet. Staring at you from beneath his pretty lashes, Mitsuya resembled that of a starved animal on the verge of cornering its prey, causing a sudden warmth to envelop you as you squirmed under his heady gaze.

Sitting up a little, he merely beckoned you to his empty lap. You blinked widely at him, sputtering as you tried to protest the idea. But, what he said next played into your curiosity.

“C’mere, and I’ll show you.”

You blinked at him, uncertain; he made no move to rush you. If you were against the idea, you were more than welcome to decline and tell him to shove it. However, when you eventually crawled into the awaiting throne, settling all your weight on top of him to the point he couldn’t keep from groaning shamelessly, Mitsuya was fucking elated.

You gripped his shirt at the shoulders, sporting that signature pout you’d do whenever you wanted something from him—The designer was more than ready to give it to you. All you had to do was say so.

“Hajime’s gonna kill you if he finds out, though. Don’t want you getting hurt again because of me…”

Mitsuya chuckled, hands slowly rubbing up your thighs until they settled on your hips. “Don’t worry about it, sweet thing. He may have gotten two hits on me today, but all I need is one tomorrow.”

© 2023-2024 anisespice ッ all rights reserved.   likes, comments & reblogs much appreciated!

[presidenthades]

Compromise Ch. 11 and 12 Snippets 👀

Doing some writing on the train, decided to share a few snippets of Targaryens being menaces to other Targaryens.

Warning: melon jokes. IYKYK.

From Chapter 11:

“Loo! Loo!” Alyssa exclaimed, but it sounded more like Woo! Woo! because she had trouble with her L’s. “Wook at me!” When Lucera looked at her, Alyssa began enthusiastically banging her hands on Daemon’s head.

Daemon clearly didn’t appreciate being used as a drum. “That’s enough. Go eat something.” He pried Alyssa off his shoulders, walked around the table, and dumped her in the chair opposite his.

“Daemon, I told you to feed her,” Rhaenyra admonished.

“She’s nearly three. If she can’t feed herself by now, there’s no hope for her,” Daemon said as he sat back down.

From Chapter 12:

Aegon opened the door to Aemond’s guest room without knocking. “Brother! Would you like some leftover melons from lunch?” Aegon asked far too innocently.

“Fuck off.” Aemond didn’t move from his place by the window, where he was pressing his forehead against the cool glass.

Sniggering, Aegon ate a piece of fruit from the plate he was holding. “I was going to ask if you wanted to come on an outing to the village.”

“I’m tired from traveling. I intend to rest.”

Aegon nodded sagely. “Good idea. I, too, shall have a wank before I go out with Jace.”

Aemond whirled around. “Must every word that passes through your lips be a vulgarity?”

Aegon deposited the plate of fruit on a table in the room. “Very well. Stay here and continue brooding like a constipated hen. I shan’t tell anyone that you’re…” He plucked two apples from the plate and held them in front of his chest. “…titillated.”

[deceptive-daydreams]

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6 | Ch. 7 | Ch. 8 | Ch. 9 | Ch. 10 | Ch. 11 | Ch. 12 | Ch. 13 | Ch. 14 |

Smoke Signals

Chapter Ten - A Chemistry Lesson

W/C: 8.2K

Eddie x Fem reader - Grumpy!Bartender!Eddie x Shy!Reader

And for once, you let go Of your fears and your ghosts One step, not much But it said enough

You Are In Love - T.S.

A/N: so i decided to split the chapter up, I started moving into another scene and it only felt right to give it it's own chapter as it opens up the night. i hope you guys love this chapter as much as i love this chapter <3

Masterlist

Prev | Next

“Dustin Henderson!”  The younger boy shoves past both of them confidently, his hand shaking yours impressively.

“We have heard so much–”  Robin begins though she’s cut off by Steve lightly smacking a hand against her stomach.

Frozen.  You’re frozen in time, an influx of information and new faces rendering you a speechless idiot.  Each one stares expectantly, awaiting some kind of a response, more than likely drawing their own conclusions about your silence and lack of communication.  They were going to be so disappointed in your shyness should they even have the patience to wait around.

Before you can humiliate yourself, Steve saves the day as an offended Robin glares at him, rubbing her stomach rather dramatically.  “Donnie.”  He states, only creating further confusion.  Several people stood before you and Donnie was not one of them, you were now struggling to keep up with the current interaction at the mention of her.  Overstimulated.  You were definitely overstimulated.  You can’t even imagine the dumb face you were sporting, the silence too loud as you struggled clinging onto words.  Any words in the English language at all at this point.

“Donnie has told us all about you.”  Steve elaborates finally.  “All good things, I promise!”  He chuckles, seemingly attempting to ease your anxieties that had made themselves evident in your wide eyes and worried forehead creases.

“Oh.”   

“Yeah, yeah!  And she’s told us all about how you’re Eddie’s new babysitter.”  Robin chimes in again, earning a pointed look from Steve.

Eddie’s reaction is lost on you, his existence temporarily vanishing as you take in the current conversation.  The idea of being perceived was one thing, it was entirely another to be perceived by four strangers who had apparently already been made aware of your existence.

“What she means is that we’ve heard you’ve been a good friend.”  Nancy softly smiles.

Friend.

You didn’t quite know why but the word felt insulting.  Not on any account of Nancy’s, there was no malice detected in her tone though you were still intimidated by her and figured with her being the prettiest girl in the room, she must at least be on Eddie’s radar.  The word ‘friend’ was starting to feel vulgar the more it played over in your head.

“Yeah, ‘friend’.”  Dustin uses air quotes, a wild grin on his youthful face.

At this, Steve delivers a harsh smack to the boy’s abdomen, more aggressive than he had done to Robin seconds ago.  

“Henderson.”  Eddie reprimands.

His voice lures you in despite your inner protests, your gaze traveling over each unique face until it settles on his.  That familiar distress showcases itself in the form of a frown; there was no telling what reaction you had expected of him but something about it makes your heart drop, your stomach feeling as if it was free falling in the worst way possible.  Were you really that repulsive?

It was obvious Dustin had only been joking but the disgust on Eddie’s face only forced your tear ducts to strain, your eyes becoming glassy in seconds.  It was a long shot, thinking that there could be any semblance of interest on Eddie’s part and you suppose you should be to blame for your hurt feelings.  He owed you nothing and here you were mourning over something that never was, all because he had let you see a piece of the inner workings of his mind.  It didn’t warrant a one way ticket into his heart.

“What!?”  Dustin shrugs, unbothered.

Robin steps forward, an apologetic smile gracing her features as she addresses you.  “I promise we’re not all gigantic dinguses.”

A flood of complaints spills from Dustin and Steve, Nancy only rolling her eyes at the interaction before taking the initiative in pursuing the conversation with you as the others bicker, Eddie only spectating the whole scene playing out in front of him.

“Dustin doesn’t always know when to keep quiet.”  She giggles, subtly pulling you to the side, her hand gentle as it rests on your forearm.  It almost repulses you, although your logic kicks in and pieces together that this woman has never done anything to elicit such a response from you.  “But he always means well.”

The heat was dying down, the unsolicited jealousy now tame within the confines of your body, not totally gone but no longer raging just beneath the surface.  If it were up to you you’d ball up the lingering feeling and burn it, if it were only so easy.

“Are they brothers?”  You ask, recalling that night you drove him home.  He only spoke of his uncle, Wayne.  He did also mention Dustin but never insinuated that they were related.  Based on the way they were interacting, you’d assume they were brothers in some sense of the word.

“Where’s your family?”  Eddie suddenly mumbles, eyes still glued to the scenery outside.  

The question is out of the blue and the last thing you would expect from him.  Although he had taken somewhat of a liking to you, he’d never taken an interest in something so personal.  And you offered him that same respect.  

“What?”  You ask, sneaking a glance at him, your hands squeezing the wheel.

His focus shifts from the window to you, his body turning inward as he leans his cheek against the headrest, waiting for your response.  The way his lips pucker from his cheek squishing against the seat only makes your heart clench.  His large awaiting eyes reflect the moon and you find it hard to change the subject when they appear so patient and attentive.

“Um, well, they’re back in…back home.”  You answer simply.

“Where’s that?”

He looked the most inquisitive you’d seen him, body turned toward you, his attention not once wavering.  Instead of the usual knit brows he often wore, his features remained softer and full of wonder.  Lips parted and eyes twinkling, who were you to deny his efforts?  Even if he was slightly under the influence.  Worst case scenario, he doesn’t remember this conversation.

“California.” 

“Oh.”  

You didn’t know what kind of response you were expecting but for some reason, the one word was a bit too vague, self consciousness kicking in.  

“What about yours?”  You shift the spotlight over to him.

From what you can tell as you keep your focus on the road, his gaze drops while he collects his thoughts, his breathing going shaky for just a second before he regains his composure.  A hum deep in his throat notifies you that he’s ready to begin speaking again.

“Uh, don’t really have one.  Never really have.  Or, uh, I just don’t remember them?  Other than my uncle, Wayne.  He’s back…”  Eddie hesitates.  “He’s in Indiana.”

Nancy’s gaze follows yours, locking in on the two boys catching up.  “Dustin and Eddie?”  Her puzzled expression already grants you your answer, though she continues.  “No, no they’re not related.  You’d think they are, with all the fantasy stuff they talk about and what not.”

“Fantasy stuff?”

“Dungeons and Dragons.”  Her perfectly plucked brows raise.  “My brother used to have me play with them, thank god Eddie stepped into the picture.”  She mutters.

“Eddie did mention Dungeons and Dragons.”  You nod. 

“And Dustin’s little drawing.”

“And the drawing?”

Your grin along with Nancy as you simultaneously speak, a few giggles filling the air between you.  

“So your brother is…Dustin?”

Amidst the calm conversation, Steve and Robin are cheering a few feet away, both of their arms now slung around Eddie.  It wasn’t clear what they were celebrating and it even seemed that they were just trying to embarrass him in that true friend fashion.  It was sweet, how much they cared about him, the lengths they went just to surprise him.

Nancy gracefully shakes her head, brunette curls bouncing with the movement and freckled nose scrunching playfully.  “No, no.  Dustin is one of my brother’s best friends.  Mike is my brother, he’s back at home in–”  Before she can reveal where ‘home’ was, her bright blue eyes widen.  “Back in Indiana.”  She corrects herself.

“I think Eddie’s mentioned Mike a few times.”  You recall the conversation, how he took Mike and Dustin under his wing in highschool.  “He couldn’t come?”

“He’s studying for midterms.”  She shakes her head.  “He really wanted to come but…you know between his girlfriend in California and college it’s just all…a lot.”  Her eyes are kind, probably the kindest you’d ever come across.

“I’d love to meet him one day.”  You smile, only hoping that you were reciprocating the same compassion she was radiating.  “And Max, and Lucas, and Wayne…”

Nancy’s eyes seem to brighten, ears perking up at the names.  “He told you about everyone?”  She asks softly, her baby pink lips upturning slightly.  

You nod.  Another eruption of laughter and shouting forces your attention toward the rest of the group, a proud grin displayed on Dustin’s face only hinting that he had just made a joke that even had Eddie hunched over in laughter, Steve’s arm still draped over his shoulder with his head thrown back.

“That is not funny.”  Robin pouts, arms crossed.

“I think it’s pretty funny.”  Steve smirks.

Nancy politely excuses herself from your one-on-one conversation, joining Robin’s side.  “What’s not funny?”

“When Robin swallowed an egg whole–”

“It’s not funny!”  Robin continues to protest.  “I almost died!”  

This only makes the boys cackle more, pulling an eye roll from Nancy.  

“C’mon Nance.”  Dustin grins.

“Yeah, c’mon Nance.”  Eddie chimes in.

Nance.

Why did it rub you the wrong way when he said it?  You assessed Nancy’s body language and nothing conveyed to you that she had any interest in him, however your mind continued it’s unruly torture.  Even so, Eddie had made it clear what he thought of you, that you were ‘too busy dry humping’ Jett and that even though that couldn’t be further from the truth, he would still lose respect for you.

Heat burrowed deep in your belly once again, the kind that wasn’t yet uncontrollable but should anyone add fuel to the fire would result in your own self destruction.  All because Eddie had to go and cause a scene.  All because he had a temper that never rested even when it appeared dormant.  

“I-um, I’m gonna go get the drinks–what did–what did everyone want?”  You manage to pitifully scramble the sentence together and eventually get your point across.

“Stevie!”  Donnie interrupts, crushing the poor guy in a tight hug.  It makes you question her disgust for physical touch.  

Steve doesn’t seem to mind, a twitch of his eye only projecting a smidge of discomfort but other than that he contently hugs her back.  They begin catching up, everyone completely ignoring your request for their drink orders.  It’s not their fault you were so invisible, it was just your nature, you were always meant to be put on the backburner until further notice but for some reason it causes an extra deep pang in your chest this time.  Especially since Eddie had completely disregarded you as he jumped into the conversation.

With the tiniest huff, you quietly step away to make yourself useful behind the bar.  A pair of blue eyes follows you, considerate blue eyes that you attempt to ignore.  If you looked carefully enough, you’d see that pair of ocean blue eyes making connections between yourself and a certain brown eyed man.  You were in no mood to act as a detective though.

–

It was irresponsible.

Your track record so far was evidence enough.

But as you stared down the bottle of tequila sat in front of you, howls of laughter and echoes of inside jokes entering your ears even from the other side of the bar, it seemed like more and more of a good idea.  Or like the only idea.  

You could have one shot, just to relax the nerves, make you more approachable.  No one would notice.  You could come off as the friendly stranger in the background instead of the miserable mouse in the corner.  It was for your benefit.  Your thoughts would become less intense, your bitterness would melt away.  Eddie would temporarily become the dream boat he had previously been in your eyes rather than a mouthy douchebag, your hazy mind would erase his wrong doings if only for a few hours.  

You hope.

Or maybe you’d open your eyes and see what Eddie was seeing, had you really shown any interest in Jett at all?  Maybe a shot would be enough to introduce you to the narrative.  Maybe you should let loose and throw yourself at Jett for the fuck of it.  Bad decisions were starting to sound more appealing the harder you stared at the bottle of liquid courage.  Until your careful thought process was interrupted.

“We doin’ shots?”  

The deep but soothing voice catches you off guard, calm brown eyes and concerned brows gaining all of your attention.  They weren’t the brown eyes you secretly hoped for, even if they were the most infuriating sight you could possibly be faced with at the moment.  No, they were a lighter hue, the overhead light casting golden flecks within the irises that regarded you with genuine interest, his lips pressed together tightly as he awaits your answer.  In his hand he holds what looks to be a scotch on the rocks though it could also be whiskey, you were no expert quite yet.

“Uh…no.  I dunno.  Maybe?”  You squint your eyes painfully.  “Forget I said that.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell the others.”  Steve takes a seat at one of the vacant stools directly across from you.  “But…”  He clicks his tongue.  “If you are going to, count me in.”  He smiles charmingly, finishing off his drink.

“I…”  You’re about to take the sensible route, you’re so close to making the right decision.  Then again, bad decisions were far more tempting.  Especially with the help of an unaware acquaintance.  “Okay.”  You sigh, offering him a friendly grin.

Without further consideration, you pop the bottle cap off, pulling out two sparkling shot glasses and setting them on the counter confidently.  At least you didn’t have to drink alone.  

“Munson giving you a hard time?”  Steve suddenly inquires.  Your eyes nearly pop out of your head which you assume is why he elaborates.  “I know he’s kind of intense.  The first year he moved out here he was…he was so fuckin’ unhappy y’know?  And I know what you’re thinkin’: Why is this guy, Steve, who I just met, going on about Munson?”  He begins to ramble.

Slowly, you start to pour the foul smelling alcohol into one of the glasses as you listen intently.  A few drops trickle down the side but it goes ignored as you watch Steve’s every move.  He toys with the glass he’d just finished off, spinning it over and over again in circles atop the bar, a ring of condensation following.

“Don’t–fuck how do I say this?”  He pushes a weft of voluminous hair back.  “Don’t give up on him.”  Steve practically pleads.

You stop pouring the tequila, pausing to chew on your lip and look at him in confusion, which encourages him to continue.

“Look, Donnie was talking about how–how you’ve been really good for him.  And I don’t know–I just–I could sense that…you were mad at each other–you and Eddie, I mean.”

He takes your silence as a means to further explain and god, he could feel a migraine coming on just by the way he was stirring things up but he couldn’t keep his mouth shut.  Not when Donnie had been so adamant about Eddie being in such good spirits since you showed up only to come face to face with an almost seething Eddie, and Donnie wordlessly conveying to him that something was wrong.

“The point is, I know that he’s an asshole, okay?  Whatever he did, I’m sure he deserves a slap to the face.  Just–don’t give up on him.”

Steve’s words sink in.  You aren’t sure what has been said but it’s apparent that the tension between you and Eddie tonight was obvious among his friends.  You ponder his request–to not give up on Eddie as you fill the second shot glass and slide it across the counter.  If anything, Eddie had given up on you by accusing you of messing around with Jett.  It was insulting and humiliating.  Dehumanizing.  

“I think he’s the one who gave up on me.”  You admit, tossing the shot back with teary eyes.

The sting spreads down your throat, the potent smell filling your nostrils as you slam the glass down.  Your eyes are glassy though you only hope Steve can gather that it's just from the alcohol and not the idea of Eddie essentially throwing whatever you had in the garbage combined with the burn of tequila.

As if caught off guard, Steve quickly throws his shot back, apparently an expert as he doesn’t flinch, only widens his eyes as he slams the glass down as you had.  He exhales heavily, nodding, thinking to himself.  You await more wise words, more advice that he had no business giving although you appreciate the sentiment anyway.

“What are you doing?”

The world feels distant and not because of the alcohol.  Your blood runs hot, most definitely because of the alcohol.  The question is asked with such outrage that it almost has you shaking.  Getting caught was more embarrassing than any outcome you could’ve imagined though you didn’t even try to hide the evidence, didn’t even go as far as to take shots in the back.  Did you subconsciously want Eddie to catch you?

“Nothing.”  You mutter, quickly capping the bottle and setting it on its designated shelf.

“I just saw you.”  Eddie grits, hands splayed out on top of the bar, his arms spread out as he attempts to keep quiet so as not to interrupt the customers scattered throughout the bar. 

Eddie’s glare burns a hole into you and maybe it’s because of Steve’s sudden advice, the fact that he felt the need to stick up for Eddie even when he didn’t know the whole situation, but you refuse to give in.  He holds a fire in his eyes that you hastily reject as you begin cleaning out the shot glasses.  It was your goal to come off as unbothered but you fear you’re coming off more as guilty.  Like a dog that had been caught chewing up the family couch.

“It was my fault.”  Steve chimes in nonchalantly.

Eddie glances over, brows knit together in irritation.  “Your fault?”

“Yeah, we were getting acquainted.  I insisted, it was–”

“Steve had nothing to do with it.”  You fess up.

Eddie’s face reveals a whole other level of rage, his eyes nearly glazing over with black.  You fucked up.  That much you could admit to yourself.  Steve appears to be panicked, his gaze glued to the bar top, his hands gripping the edge, nails threatening to dig into the wood.

“Meet me in the back.”  Eddie demands, pushing himself off of the bar.  

Terrified doesn’t even begin to explain the list of feelings coursing through you.  You’d never seen him as angry as he was tonight.  You were drinking on the job, something that in a small town usually isn’t a big deal but with all of the tension hanging in the air, you could only assume it would add to his irritation.  It would only give him more ammo against you.

Steve offers you an apologetic stare, clearly also taken back by Eddie’s irate mood.  And then, he half nods as if to wish you good luck before standing and making his way back to the rest of the group.  As you timidly step out from the bar and round the corner, you catch Nancy’s sapphire eyes before they disappear, your legs carrying you into the narrow hallway where the office was located.  Except Eddie wasn’t in there and you could only conclude that he was outside.  ‘Meet me in the back’ meant ‘meet me outside’.  Which could only mean he was about to unleash hell on you if he needed to completely remove you from the building in order to reprimand you.

You don’t let yourself prepare, you need to face him without any thoughts clouding your judgment, only further shoving you into the hole you dug yourself.  With a push to the metal door, you’re met with an aching cold, the kind that stings the surface of any exposed skin.  Immediately your cheeks burn, a few snowflakes landing delicately among your eyelashes.  You should have grabbed your jacket.

Leaning against the hay bales stacked like a Tetris game, is Eddie.  A cigarette hangs from his lips while he struggles to keep the flame on his lighter alive, the wind fighting his every attempt.  He grunts in annoyance, his head tilting toward the sky as if to personally ask it ‘why?’.  Already, his cheeks and nose are tinted pink, borderline red.  You contemplate asking if you could talk inside but you quickly bite your tongue, you didn’t want to be the one to initiate the conversation.

“What’s your problem?”  He asks simply.  As if he were asking for the weather forecast.  It’s insulting, quite frankly.

“My problem?”

Suddenly the fear that had consumed you seconds ago dissipates, no longer plaguing you and being replaced with a wrath you’re convinced no one else on the planet could pull from you.  Even worse, he refuses to look at you, keeping his stare on the cloudy evening sky.  

“Are you trying to get fired?  ‘Cause I should fire you right–”

“Oh yeah, go ahead.  Fire me.”  

He’s quiet, attempting to light his cigarette once again.  This time he succeeds, the stick catching the flame as he inhales and tucks his lighter into his back pocket.  You begin to question if he even cares about the cold until you see the goosebumps pricking across his arms.

“I should.”  He mumbles, taking another drag.

“Great!  I’m glad we’re on the same page.”  You reply, sarcasm dripping from each syllable as you rub up and down your exposed arms.  It didn’t help that you decided to wear a skirt and tights tonight either.  

Without time to process, he takes a large step toward you, his breath hot as it fans across your face.  A sense of softness flashes in his eyes before they return to the fiery nature they previously exhibited.  His cigarette idles in his hand at his side, his jaw clenched and visibly tensing before he scowls.

“Same page?”  He bites.  “The same page.”  His free hand rubs along his jaw in thought.  “Okay, if we’re on the same page then explain to me why you’re doing shots with Harrington?  If we’re on the same page then we must be reading completely different languages because you started this.”

You scoff, his statement on replay in your ears.  Each time it plays again you find yourself even more enraged.  “I did?”  You’re smiling but there’s not an ounce of happiness in your features or your tone.  

Eddie backs away, the heat from his breath is missed, no matter how mad you are and no matter how strongly it smelled of smoke.  He paces, turning around before coming full circle and facing you again, another deep drag from his cigarette indicating that he’s stressed.  Then he nods, bangs falling into his eyes as he does.

“You did.  You just–you start ignoring me, start acting like I’m not even a person?”  He points the cigarette at you and you’re starting to believe that in the midst of his rage, he’s completely forgotten about the cold whereas it was the only thing you could focus on.  Regardless, you fight through it, even if your teeth chatter.

“And, and–hold on.”  He shakes his head, curls following his movement as he rushes inside.

Great.

He left you out in the cold, literally.

You weren’t going to wait, his disrespect wasn’t going to keep prodding at you, not if you had anything to say about it.  He didn’t get to storm off and leave you outside in the freezing cold, even if you did do something you weren’t proud of.  He was probably going to wait and see how long you would hold out, how long you would sit in the cold before inevitably running in and looking for him, how stupid you would look–

The door squeaks open again, smacking against the wall as Eddie comes racing out, leather jacket in hand.  Well, if he was allowed to grab his jacket then so were you.  His cigarette hangs from his bottom lip as he begins muttering around it.

“You started treating me like I didn’t exist, I don’t know how normal people react to that but–”  He adjusts the jacket, flattening out the material before draping it over your shoulders, encouraging you to put your arms in the sleeves.  “I assume any normal person would be fuckin’ pissed so I guess I’m not–I’m just not understanding.”  He says a bit harshly.

You don’t react, frozen as he waits for you to put your arm in the sleeve.  While he’s still visibly aggravated, his eyes also communicate something else to you.  The deeper you look into them, the more his pupils dilate, a nervous gulp noticeable as he awaits your reply.

“C’mon, you’re freezing.”  He whispers, a large contrast to his previous tone.  It’s warmer, it’s familiar, it’s like home.

“What about you?”  You mumble, staring dumbly into his big brown eyes, his lashes heavy against his cheeks, unlike how they were seconds ago when he was wild-eyed and riled up.  He was still riled up, that was for sure but now…now it was diluted with something else.

“Don’t worry about me, Bambi.”  The term of endearment slips from his tongue effortlessly.  Like it was meant to fall from his lips directly into your ears.  Like it was meant for you and only for you, always.

With parted lips, you can see your breath escape into the night.  You know he can hear your labored breathing and you should be embarrassed but you can’t find it in yourself to care when his gaze softens, the sturdy exterior he had built up again crumbling just as it had that one night.

“I do worry.”  

It falls from your lips quicker than you can contain it.  You shouldn’t be offering him such compassion, not when he was so okay with insulting you hours earlier.  But pools of melted chocolate never left you any other choice but to get lost in them.  He moves in closer, ever so slightly, only enough that you feel the familiar warmth of his breath on your cheek, so that you can still make out his whole face.

“Don’t.”  He says breathily.

“Why?”

He only shrugs, his focus trailing down your face, reaching every inch.  It makes you want to shy away but you can’t, not when he looks so sincere.

“‘M sorry.”  He whispers, reaching up to brush a rogue strand of hair from your face.

Your instinct is to ask ‘for what?’, but you know better.  You don’t need to play dumb, both of you are aware of his nasty words and your tendency to take things to a level they should have never gotten to.  You’re both to blame.  But you don’t need to pretend to not know what he’s apologizing for.  There’s no pretending with him.  So you can only hope that he’ll see through to the deeper meaning of your initial question. 

“For what?”

For what?  Would he say that he’s only sorry he hired you in the first place?  Or that he’s sorry he ever met you.  Would he understand your words and be in tune enough to decipher them?

“Everything.”  He whispers.

It’s quiet, almost eerily but not.  No, it’s too peaceful to be eerie.  The first snowflakes of the season are still falling and you’re standing outside the bar with Eddie Munson, a man who was so stubborn he seemed almost impossible.  Almost, but not.  Never for you.

“Everything.”  You repeat.  And he knows he owes you more.

“Everything.”  He swallows the lump in his throat that was preventing him from saying the necessary words.  It goes down smoother than he expects.  “Every second I was ever an asshole to you.  Especially my stupid ass comment about Jett.  I-I was mad and I took it out on you.  I tend to do that pretty often don’t I?”  He laughs humorlessly.  “I don’t think less of you if you’re actually…y’know.”  He gestures vaguely.

“What?”  You ask, genuine confusion taking over your features.

For a moment, his eyes shift back and forth, as if to beg you not to make him say it.

“With Jett.”  He mumbles, gaze now avoiding you.

“With Jett.”  You repeat in disbelief.  “I have done nothing to suggest we are at all together.”  You scoff.  

“I know.”  Eddie squeezes his eyes shut, as if he’s bracing for more choice words from you.  They don’t come.  “I know.  I just, he got in my head and–”

“Got in your head?” 

“It was nothing, he got in my head and got all, I dunno protective?  If that’s even the word.  He just seemed jealous, okay?”  Eddie explains.  “I know that’s not an excuse for what I said.  I’m really sorry for saying you dry hump–”

“Don’t ever use the word dry hump and Jett in a sentence where you’re referring to me again.”  You laugh.  This time humor floods through you.  His whole demeanor relaxes, shoulders less tense.  “It’s happened one too many times.”  You cringe jokingly.

“Okay, that’s fair.”  He smiles, that boyish grin returning to his face.  The one you hadn’t seen in days, the one you missed every time, the second he directed it toward you the first time.  His dimples deep, eyes shy, he still lingers close to your face, neither of you protesting the invasion of each other’s space.  “Now put your arms in the sleeves.”  He demands, tugging on the collar of his jacket still laying over your shoulders.  “Please.”  His face only inches closer to yours as he convinces you to shove your arms into his jacket.

“We’re about to go inside, I won’t need it.”  You argue, crossing your arms in front of you, a hip jutting out with sass.

“Oh okay, we’re back to this then?”  He smirks, finger grazing the button at the lapel of his jacket, almost scorching the skin of your neck.

That familiar spark ignites in his eyes, the fire that showcased so much unexplored emotion, so many uncharted territories within the man before you.  You wanted to explore them all, you wanted to hold his hand and trek across each foreign feeling.  You wanted to bathe in the sparks and light yourself on fire to speed up the process.  You didn’t just want to burn for him, you wanted to burn with him.  Your soul was drawn to him, you wanted to melt into him, melt into his touch, even if it was just his fingertip.  You’d take what you could get.  And you were really convinced that he wanted the same things solely based on the way he was looking at you with heavy eyes and rosy cheeks.

“Yeah, I’m not done addressing my grievances with you.”  You joke.

At this, he lights up even more, his entire face exhibiting pure fondness.  His lips are so perfectly pink, a little chapped, but the sweetest pink you’d ever seen.  They were pillowy and plush and as he licked them you blinked, falling out of your trance.  Then, his hands travel down the zipper of his jacket, only touching the worn material and not at all forcing his touch upon you though he longs to feel your warmth.  

Instead, he pulls you forward by gripping each side of the jacket, leaving you no choice but to come flush with his chest.  You welcome the heat, the sudden warmth that engulfs you like a cozy blanket calms your chattering teeth.  

“Yeah?”  He whispers, nose nearly bumping against yours.  You wish it would.

“Yeah.”

Your lashes just barely flutter against his cheek, only teasing him of what he actually desires, and you don’t even know it.  He’s glancing between your eyes and your lips and your internal reaction is to scream at him to just do it.  But is that even what he’s hinting at doing?  Maybe there was something on your face.  You weren’t going to assume his intentions and make yourself out to be a fool.

He hums in response, his hands still tightly clutching the jacket, the damn jacket that you were now wishing he never put on you just so you could feel his skin, the heat of his hands against your arms.  The ache was becoming too apparent in your chest, you needed him and there was no way to express it.  You couldn’t.

He smells of tobacco and a hint of pine.  Even a tiny bit of spice from some kind of cologne you’d grown used to smelling on him.  There’s a waft of beer falling from his breath as well, not too obvious, but obvious enough that you can gather that he had at least had a beer before work or during his break.

“Do me a favor?”  He asks.  And in that moment, you would do anything.

“Mm?” 

A quick finger pokes your nose playfully.  “No more tequila.”  

You can only laugh along with him, almost burying your head in his chest but refraining as you enter your body again.  This was not a daydream and he was not someone to call yours.  Fooling yourself was only going to get you hurt.

“I’m serious, it fucking stinks.”  He scrunches up his face in mock disgust, plugging his nose, you giggling along with his antics.

With that, he pulls away, leaving you feeling frigid, already missing his presence even if he was still right in front of you.  Opening the door, he gestures for you to go ahead of him.  The atmosphere had been flipped upside down, all hostility left outside in the cold to be swept away in a snowstorm.  

–

“And then Eddie fucking jumps off his roof!”  

The bar fills with laughter, unfiltered, stomach grabbing laughter of five friends and yourself.  The regular customers had long gone and paid their tabs, leaving the bar empty and the possibilities endless as everyone shared treasured stories over beers and drinks.  Steve appears to be pleased with himself as the laughter carries on for over a minute.  The image of Eddie drunk and jumping off of his roof as a means to prove he can ‘fly’ only to face plant into the ground and be driven to the ER was somehow the best entertainment you’d been faced with in a while.  

It was mentioned that he didn’t get injured too badly and only required a few stitches above his eyebrow where you could now seek out a scar and remember this night.  The night Eddie’s friends accepted you into their circle.  Even if only for the night.

“Well what about when you got a lampshade stuck on your head.”  Eddie points at Steve with his beer bottle.

Steve only offers a disapproving expression as the giggles erupt once again.  Robin sits to your right while Nancy sits to your left.  The pair had immediately taken a liking to you and moved chairs just so you could sit between them.  It felt nice, you felt welcome.  You had no worries and nowhere to be.  And for once that made you feel alive rather than anxious.

“Okay, but can we talk about you babysitting Eddie on Halloween?”  Nancy attempts to hold in her laughter.  She had said it quietly but not quietly enough as Eddie deadpans her.  

Robin lets out a shriek of laughter, clearly intoxicated.  You can only grin at everyone’s reaction.  Steve and Dustin had gotten into some kind of a ridiculous argument and throughout the night, you noticed it was a regular occurance.  They paid no mind to embarrassing Eddie further but Nancy had no issue with it even if she wasn’t outright talking to the whole group in the first place and only you and Robin.

“What, Munson?  You got plastered and she had to save the day.”  Nancy giggles.  She had obviously been a little wine drunk, a tiny bit tipsy.

“Yes, it’s very funny.”  He says monotone.  “Can we find a new joke now?”  He asks, rolling his eyes although you know he’s only playing around, his lips threatening to pull themselves into a smile.

“It’s okay to get white girl wasted every once in a while.”  You banter.

“Oh, it is?”  Eddie raises a brow.  “It’s okay to puke all over me after getting white girl wasted?  Off of my tequila?”

The table erupts in a series of ‘oh’s’.  You could take offense.  But it was so much more fun to mess with him.

“I’m not the one who got puked on at least.”  You shrug, unbothered.

The table gets loud again, siding in your favor based on their volume.

“Yeah?”  He asks.  As if you two were suddenly the only people in the bar.  As if his friends had disappeared.  As if you were back outside behind the bar just a few hours ago.

“Yeah.”  You answer, a certain softness in your tone that only he could understand.

Nancy’s gaze flits in between you, mischief crossing her features for a brief second, you swear you see it.  But nothing comes of it as she turns her attention to the argument that Dustin and Steve had started up again.  Robin chimes in every now and then, hiccuping dramatically.  You and Eddie, though a little buzzed, can’t stop staring at each other from across the table.  His gaze is heavy and yearning but for what you’re not sure.

His bottom lip continues to get tugged in between his teeth, abusing the already chapped skin as he unknowingly communicates his nervousness.  The only thing you’re sure of is that he won’t tear his eyes away from you.  Not for Steve’s request to aid in the argument, not for Dustin’s screeching voice demanding he take his side, and not for Jett who was making it known that he was leaving for the night.  Eddie only mutters in response, something along the lines of ‘see you tomorrow’.  Steve and Dustin are too caught up to even pay any mind to Eddie’s ignorance to their debate.  Robin is in her own world, curling her legs up to her chest in her chair as she becomes fascinated with the wood grain in the table while Nancy pretends to be preoccupied with swirling the wine in her glass and acts as if she’s listening to Dustin’s reasoning, nodding every now and then.  But you notice the way her diamond eyes take in the scene before her.  And now you’re sure that she has no interest in Eddie nor has she ever shown it.  

But she does have an interest in whatever was happening between you and Eddie.  She was studying the chemistry.

–

It was 4:00 AM, the sun would be emerging just on the Horizon within hours.  An exhausted Steve lays his head on the table over his folded arms.  Drool threatens to fall from the corner of his lip onto his sleeve, his mouth hanging open as he sleeps almost like a newborn.  Every other breath a deep snore rumbles through him.

“This isn’t even the weirdest place he’s fallen asleep.”  Dustin snaps a polaroid, the flash doing little to make Steve stir in his slumber, his eyelids only twitching as he navigates his dreams.  “One time we found him under his bed.”

You chuckle at the sight, Steve had been completely hammered off of several beers and a few shots of vodka that Robin had convinced him to take with her.  The second he wakes up, he’s in for a rude awakening, you’re sure.  

“Do you take a picture every time?”  You ask as Dustin hands off the developing picture to you, only to continue getting just the shot he wanted as he crouched down to get a better view of Steve’s face.

“Of course.”  He laughs, stating it like there was no other option.

“Steve’s reputation with drinking isn’t necessarily…the best?”  Nancy speaks, setting a fresh glass of water on the table in front of him.

You’d learned throughout the night that Steve and Nancy dated in highschool and although it was a nasty breakup, they remained friends and it never was weird after that.  They respected each other as they did their other friends and it showed.  

“I mean…I don’t think it’s that bad.  He’s just sleeping.  I’ve dozed off while drunk a few times.”  You defend.

“Yeah but have you dozed off in places people couldn’t even find you until we tore the house apart?”  Dustin counters with raised eyebrows.  “He also used to reign under the title ‘King Steve’ if that tells you anything.”

Showing your hands in surrender, you begin collecting the remaining glasses from the table.  Several dozen shot glasses that had provided a good night but would surely bring on a rough morning for those that had participated.  You’d taken two shots throughout the night and had half of Robin’s Dirty Shirley that she couldn’t seem to stomach.  And she wouldn’t quit until it was gone so you humbly volunteered seeing as she was already almost obliterated, stumbling around anytime she got up and slurring every word.

Robin was now talking Eddie’s ear off as she sat at the bar, narrating every piece of her life that he’d missed since she visited and last updated him.  You could vaguely make out her explanation for still not getting her driver’s license, stating that Steve was more than okay with being her chauffeur for the foreseeable future.  Then she insisted that should she get her license, she’d be an even worse driver than Eddie used to be so it’d be in everyone’s best interest to keep her off the roads.  

Eddie hums along to the conversation, letting Robin steer the topic as he leisurely polishes the glasses he hadn’t gotten to earlier, his friends occupying his full attention a majority of the night.  An impressive pile of glasses and cups are building up on your tray, Nancy assisting in collecting what she could as she follows you toward the bar.  

“Nance!  Tell him!”  Robin whines.  “Tell him how I’m a danger to the roads of suburbia!”

“You are most definitely a danger.”  Nancy smiles softly, moving Robin’s bangs out of her eyes with her free hand before delivering the glasses she’d collected onto the counter.

“See!”

“No need to convince me, Buckely.”  Eddie throws his rag over his shoulder.  “Although I’d probably have the time of my life with you behind the wheel.”  He grins, scooping up the tray you were having trouble setting down.  “But I’d also prefer to live a little longer so you avoid that DMV for as long as you can.”

Nancy nods in agreement, taking a seat on the stool next to Robin.  As you rush around the counter to assist in washing the remaining glasses, large brown eyes follow you, as if they missed you.  Like they’d never been happier to see you.  You still shy away from them, only because you’re not sure how long you can last until you melt, until your knees collapse beneath you and you’re a puddle on the floor.

“So what’s our game plan this time for getting Steve to the car?”  Nancy asks.

“Leave ‘em here.”  Robin slouches in her seat.

“Rob–”

“I second that.”  Eddie chuckles.  

“You guys are awful!”  Nancy proclaims.

You can only giggle to yourself, bubbles coating your hands as warm water leaks down to your elbows as you scrub each glass.  A sudden hip jabs into your side, creating enough room for Eddie’s lean frame to partake in the chore.  

“What’s so funny, Bambi?”  He questions, quiet enough for only you to hear.

You shake your head, still tuning into Robin’s scheme to leave Steve behind.  She had obviously been joking, the two constantly bickering with one another throughout the night like siblings only proving so.  But she seemed to enjoy pressing Nancy’s buttons as she persisted in her idea of abandoning the poor guy.

“Nothing.”  You mutter.

Your backs are facing the two girls, neither of them able to sneak a glance at Eddie’s wandering eyes that you could very clearly spot just out of your peripheral vision.  His hands continued to concentrate on the task at hand though not very well as he scrubbed the same tiny shot glass for at least two minutes too long.

“Y’know, you’re not being very helpful.”

With a click of his tongue, he finally sets the overly-clean glass atop the drying rack, reaching over you in the process.  It only made you aware of his comforting smell that you had basked in out in the cold earlier.  You’d never imagine wishing to do dishes for the rest of eternity but here you were, hoping that an eyelash would fall onto your cheek just so you could wish on it to stay in this very moment.

“‘M not?”  He smirks.

“Nope, you’re just making more work for me.”

“Oh, you tell him!”  Dustin suddenly peaks over both of your shoulders, quiet as a mouse until he had made his presence known.  It startles you, a gasp escaping your lips.

“Henderson, don’t sneak up on people like that.”  Eddie holds a hand over his chest.

“Look alive.”  He shrugs, snooping around at the shelves that would otherwise be obscured from his view on the other side of the bar.

“Nothin’ for you back here, you’re not even twenty one.”  Eddie turns around, leaning against the sink and crossing his arms.  

“Wha-oh don’t be like that!  I only have like two more years and that’s rich coming from you of all people, Eddie.”  Dustin points a finger, sticking it harshly into Eddie’s chest.  

“Do as I say, not as I do.”  Eddie mumbles, returning to his task, snatching up the last two glasses that remained before you could, swatting your hands away.

“What’s he talking about?”  You dare to ask.

Dustin brings an arm over your shoulder, the other over Eddie’s, a huge grin plastered on his face as if he’d been waiting for you to ask the question.  Eddie only offers him a side eye, nothing malicious but a light warning.

“Eddie here used to have a big reputation.”  He explains, patting him on the back.  Eddie only rolls his eyes, clearly indicating that he didn’t have any real issue with Dustin revealing pieces of his past.

“Oh?”  You wipe your hands on a nearby rag, turning toward Dustin, intrigued.

“Yeah, he used to be the friendly neighborhood drug dealer.”

Your face doesn’t shift, only making it more difficult to gauge your reaction.  Eddie starts to fear that this was going to be your wakeup call.  Your revelation as to who he really was.  He knows Dustin meant know harm in it and to be fair, the kid had probably snuck a few beers away from Steve.  There was no ill intent, only playful banter although Eddie hadn’t anticipated how you might have felt about his previous endeavors until after Dustin spoke those words.

“Dustin!”  Robin calls for his attention, chewing on a cocktail straw.  

Without a second thought, the boy turns his attention toward the two girls sitting at the bar, making his way around to take a seat next to Robin only to assist her in some kind of party trick she had been trying to work out with a napkin.

“How’s it go?”  She mutters around the straw.

Eddie stares at the bubbles in the sink like they’re the only thing in the room, his eyes following each one drifting toward the drain and idling at the bottom of the basin as the remaining water drains.  Sparkly little bubbles created reflections in his eyes that could resemble stars.  And he waits.

He waits for your reaction, waits for you to detach yourself from him because god, he didn’t know what was happening between you two since stepping back inside the bar all those hours ago but he didn’t want it to end just because his past put you off.  It was inevitable that the single good thing happening to him would come to an end.  That this night would end.

He doesn’t expect you to shove your hip into his just as he had done to you earlier, twirling a rag in between your fingers, offering him a smirk.  

“Big reputation, huh?”  You playfully raise your eyebrows up and down.

Relief washes over him.  It doesn’t have to end.  This night isn’t over, maybe he can have whatever this is for a few more minutes, an hour if he’s lucky.  He’d delay going home if it meant you’d keep toying with him, teasing him over silly little things that his friends had told you about.  He didn’t mind, not when your face would light up at every tiny ‘secret’ you were let in on.  Eddie knew very well that his friends had been enlightening you with small details about his life back in Hawkins, about every time they’d visited Knife’s Edge, all the big moments and embarrassing drunk shenanigans.  He didn’t mind.  Because it meant that they’d already accepted you as one of their own.

“Shut up.”  He gently nudges your shoulder with his.

~end~

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[bethanydelleman]

Emma, the Sweetest and Best of Creatures

Emma is unlikable for a couple reasons, mostly her treatment of Miss Bates, but also because unlike the other heroines, her life seems charming at first glance. She is wealthy, she had devoted parents in both Mr. Woodhouse and Mrs. Weston, she had a massive home, and no need to marry. Most women of the era would kill for that deal, but they would not note the drawbacks that make Emma’s life both difficult and her forbearance admirable.

Emma devotes her entire life to the comfort of her father, going so far as to almost give up on marrying the love of her life because Mr. Woodhouse cannot stand it (She could not bear to see him suffering, Ch 55). She invites Mrs. and Miss Bates over to her home consistently because he likes them, even though she understandably cannot stand Miss Bates. She does everything she can to make sure he is not distressed, including not enjoying Christmas visits so she can referee her sister and brother-in-law (Ch 11). Her life is one of constant sacrifice to his eccentricities and she gets very little back out of the relationship, her father, “could not meet her in conversation, rational or playful” Ch 1.

Emma has nothing in her life beyond Hartfield and Highbury. Her sister lives only half a day’s journey away but she cannot visit her. She can walk to Donwell Abbey and yet hasn’t been there for two years (most likely on account of her father). It is understandable that she is bored, which has led to her meddling. But also understandable that she is loath to give up the very few female friends she has (I only want to keep Harriet to myself Ch 8) and why she gets annoyed with Miss Bates. She has no variety in her life or escape from her irritations.

Also, it is clear in the horrible chapter of the Box Hill visit that Emma made a mistake after having a terrible day. It took a lot for her to breech decorum and insult Miss Bates: the day was hot, no one was talking, Emma was annoyed that Mrs. Elton was invited, and Frank was egging her on. Normally, she is far more judicious when she speaks. I feel claustrophobic when I read that chapter, I’m shocked more of them didn’t slip.

I think it is also fair to ask ourselves why Emma is far more hated than Darcy, even though they share many traits. Both Darcy and Emma are snobby/arrogant, do not like being criticised, meddle in their friend’s love lives, are extremely generous to the poor and their servants (Mrs. Weston is an employee who Emma treats like family, Emma both visits the poor and sends an entire hindquarter of pork to the Bates), devoted to the care of their families, and are disgusted by associating with vulgar people. Yet Darcy is loved and Emma is hated, even by the end of the novel. Yes, Darcy apologises better and he saves Lydia, but he is a man and he has far more power than Emma ever will in this society.

I will admit, It is hard to accept how Emma treats Harriet at the end of the book and I do prefer the 2020 version where she apologises to Robert Martin, but I also think it is unrealistic. Emma has to operate within her allowable limits: she isn’t even on friendly terms with the Martins, she cannot visit them, she can’t send RM to London to meet Harriet. So Mr. Knightley does it instead. Because... for all of Emma’s wealth and power, she is still a woman in Regency England.

Emma: Faultless in spite of all her faults

(This message was approved by Mr. George Knightley)

[scarabsinthestardust]

Better in the Morning // Ch. 11

MASTERLIST

Well, here we are. Time to meet the parents.

Word count: 7300+

CHAPTER WARNINGS: Language; talks of depression, suicide, and anxiety; strained parental relationship; talks of crime, murder, drugs/drug cartel, running from the law, and minor talk of sex trafficking (nothing too graphic); mentions of death of a parent; injuries sustained from a shooting, blood, removal of a bullet, stitches (I'm not a medical professional and have zero medical training. I'm making it up as I go.); some probably really bad and vulgar Spanish retrieved per Google and Google translate (and I can't for the life of me figure out how to do the accents so we're just going to ignore that for now); I also might be tiptoeing real close to 'No Country for Old Men' fanfiction 😅

Two and a half years. Two and a half years, countless ups and downs, and I was finally taking the love of my life to see an important part of me, a part of what made me who I am. He was going to get to see where I grew up.

I don’t know what made me want to go back, but when I proposed the idea to Jake, he eagerly jumped at the opportunity. Soon enough, we were packed and on the road to Thomas, West Virginia.

It was about a nine-hour drive from Nashville. Jake tried to convince me to just fly, but I felt like I was due for a good road trip. We could travel at our own pace, and besides, Jake was good company for the drive. Richie had reached out to Vivian, an old family friend, arranging for us to stay with her instead of one of the shitty, middle-of-nowhere hotels (which were few and far between).

Vivian technically lived in Coketon, a coal-mining town just outside of Thomas that was almost abandoned. Mining activity flourished in the early 1900s, and the 15 coal mines in Coketon shipped out a million tons of coal annually. But by the mid to late 1950s, pretty much all underground mining had ceased. Most of the residents left shortly after that, only a few deciding to remain. Vivian’s family was one, not far from where Finn’s family had put down roots.

I spent a good chunk of my childhood at Vivian’s house. It was one of the “safe houses” my dad would drop us off at, Vivian being one of the few people he trusted. It was where I met my best friend, and where I lost my brother. There were a lot of bad memories associated with the place, but enough good to lure me back occasionally. Vivian could be… tough, a little abrasive, but she took care of us when our dad was gone and taught me most of everything I know. I mostly missed the horses. Jake expressed his unease at being that close to a 1,000-pound animal, more so at the idea of trying to ride one.

I smirked. “I will definitely get you on a horse before we come home.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

~

It was almost sundown by the time we turned down the dirt road that would take us to Vivian’s house. The trees on either side of the road loomed darkly, appearing much taller and thicker than the last time I was here. It had been almost five years, after all. Everything still felt so familiar, though, as if I was only here yesterday. The house came into view as we rounded the corner. It hadn’t changed a bit. The two-story brick house with its worn white molding and wrap-around porch had seen a lot, witnessed me and Finn grow up, and Luca not quite make it out.

“It’s a little creepy out here. Quiet.” Jake eyed the thick woods wearily. He had gotten so used to city life in Nashville. This was such a big jump from that.

“At least I’m not freezing my ass off,” I huffed.

“Sounds like a skill issue,” he joked. I narrowed my eyes and poked at his side, causing him to squirm away.

“I’ll remember that.”

As we unloaded our bags from the trunk, I heard the front door creak open. “Glad to see you remember your way here.”

“I wouldn’t ever forget it, V.” I gave her a quick hug. Jake stepped up behind me and I introduced them to each other. Vivian eyed him distrustfully, as I expected, but Jake didn’t seem put off by it and maintained his polite demeanor.

Vivian led us into the house and directed us to the spare room upstairs we’d be staying in. The inside was just as I remembered. A collection of paintings, created by Vivian, decorated the walls over gaudy wallpaper. The ugly blue carpet was still in the bedrooms, and even uglier striped, red carpet covered the stairs, which creaked under our weight. The innards of the house were worn, and needed some serious upgrades in my opinion, but it had good bones. The double bed with the brass headboard had a fresh set of sheets and a yellow floral blanket that was probably older than me. And as outdated and musty as the house was, it was home to me.

After dropping our stuff off and heading back downstairs, Vivian gestured up the stairs with a tilt of her head. “I’ve got one right now, so keep your voices down.” She offered no other information and Jake looked at me quizzically.

“There’s someone else staying here. I’ll explain later.” I pretended I didn’t notice the way Vivian narrowed her eyes at me. She would have been livid if she knew I’d told Jake anything. It was her secret to keep, too. And she didn’t trust him, not yet.

She set the table for dinner and took a plate to whoever was upstairs before we all sat down to eat. We took the time to catch up, her inquiring about Nashville and Richie, and asked after Finn when I told her he’d come to town for a visit. She asked Jake about his career, not bothering to hide the judgement in her eyes when he told her was a musician. All these people I grew up with seemed to think if it didn’t involve physical, manual labor, it wasn’t a ‘real job.’

“Oh, your pa’s gonna love that,” she said sarcastically. I rolled my eyes, which earned me a scolding from her. “Don’t roll your eyes at me, girl.” I found it annoying that even as an adult, she still knew how to make me feel like a child that had done something wrong. Jake, on the other hand, was doing his best to hold back his laughter.

Exhausted from the drive, we decided to call it a night after dinner. I filled Jake in as we got ready for bed, keeping my voice down to a whisper. “Viv’s in the business of taking in girls, young women, that don’t have anywhere else to go, or got pulled out of some shitty situation. Chances are, they’re probably traumatized and terrified, a lot of times of men, if you get my drift.”

“Like, victims of sex trafficking?”

“Yeah, sometimes.”

He exhaled a puff of air. “Your life just keeps getting more and more interesting.”

“Hah. This one is all Viv.”

“I don’t think she likes me very much,” he said as he got into bed.

I crawled in and snuggled up next to him. “Don’t take it personally. She doesn’t like much of anyone until she gets to know them. She’ll warm up to you.”

“You don’t think your dad would warm up to me eventually?”

I snorted a laugh. “No, because he’s just an asshole. It’s a good thing you won’t have to be subjected to that. At least during this trip.” That wasn’t true, but I didn’t know that yet. I had no idea how much Jake would learn while we were here, much less how much I would learn.

~

We spent most of the next day in town. There wasn’t much to do, but we checked out local shops, got lunch, and I took Jake to the Purple Fiddle Coffeehouse and Market, a staple in the town of Thomas. In the late afternoon, we took a walk around Vivian’s property, showing him all my little hangout spots and secret hideaways.

“That was Finn’s place,” I pointed out the small, now abandoned house. I’d never been inside and had no idea what happened to his parents. Perhaps that was for the best.

There were several pathways through the woods, some of them quite overgrown now. I can pretend I didn’t really know where we were headed, which path led to where, but that would be a lie. I grew up here, under the aspen canopy, weaving between these tree trunks like I was born for it. Maybe some sick part of me needed to see the place again, to remind myself that it was real.

Jake had been talking but he quieted when I stopped walking. “You okay?” He cocked his head.

I didn’t speak right away, worried that my voice might betray the peace of this place. The forest knew death. It had seen it many times over the course of thousands of years. I wonder if the trees remembered it, though, if they remembered his death, or if they heard my scream as it echoed through the leaves. My vision zeroed in on the spot. There wasn’t anything that stuck out, nothing that distinguished it from any other place in this vast expanse of wooded ground, but I knew it. I wouldn’t ever forget it.

“That’s where Luca died,” I whispered.

I heard a sharp inhale of breath from Jake. His hand gently rubbed my arm as he stepped closer to me. “Do you want to talk about it?”

I just shook my head, not trusting myself to speak. Jake didn’t push. He guided me to a fallen log nearby and we sat, seemingly understanding what I needed without words. His hand didn’t leave mine. There we stayed, letting the leaves and the light wind do all the talking, us playing the role of mere witnesses, just bystanders.

As the sun sank lower over the horizon, casting deep shadows over us, Jake gently nudged me. “Do you know how to find your way back in the dark?”

It was a genuine question, but I laughed anyways. “Would you be scared if I didn’t?”

“I mean, we could camp out, but you might need to protect me from whatever cryptids live in these creepy ass woods.”

I nudged him back with my shoulder. “What do you think I was doing as a kid running around in the woods at night if not making friends with the cryptids?”

“I dunno, committing crime?”

“A little arson never hurt anyone.”

He raised an eyebrow at me. “Okay, Josh.”

My hand came to my chest, and I feigned offense. “Well, I never,” I exclaimed with an exaggerated southern accent. Our laughter seemed to fill the empty air around us, drastically lifting my own spirits.

The porch light was on when we made it back to the house. I sighed contently. “She always left the light on for us.” I didn’t miss the scamper of footsteps running up the stairs when we came in the door. I didn’t get a good look at the girl before she closed herself back up in her bedroom, her safe space, I imagine. It was mine, too, on some nights.

~

“Oh, c’mon, he doesn’t bite.”

“That is a blatant lie, and you know it.”

I giggled, slightly menacingly, as Jake eyed the animal in front of him wearily. He reached out slowly to pet it but jumped back when the horse stomped and huffed at him. The stable hand holding onto the lead rope couldn’t hide his amusement. I shrugged and sighed from my spot in the saddle of another horse. “Guess I get to tell your brothers you were too scared to ride a horse with me.”

It was a low blow, taunting him like that, but it was the results that mattered to me. He glared at me. “You’re the worst,” he muttered, before moving to grasp the saddle horn and sticking his foot in the stirrup. He took a deep breath and held it, hoisting himself up and swinging his leg over the other side. When he was confident the horse wasn’t going to bolt or immediately buck him off, he exhaled. “Happy now?”

“Yep!” I beamed at him, ignoring his grumbling. The stable hand adjusted Jake’s stirrups and gave us the okay to ride.

Jake was fidgety and white knuckling the reins, but he started to relax as the ride went on. I’ll go so far as to say he might have started enjoying himself a little bit. I even caught him talking to his horse once or twice, little admonitions of praise.

“So, what do you think, grumpy gills? Think I could talk you into doing this more often?”

“I could perhaps be persuaded,” he said as he winked.

I rolled my eyes. “I’m sure there’s lots of places around Nashville we could ride. Maybe we can make it a regular thing?”

“Sure. And with enough practice I’ll be riding circles around you in no time.”

I stuck my tongue out at him. “You’d have to catch up to me first.” I spurred my horse to run ahead, wondering if he’d be brave enough to commence the chase. After a few moments, he finally did, and I heard the patter of his horse trotting up behind me.

We slowed to a stop at the edge of a creek, and I laughed at the grimace on Jake’s face. “That is… fuck, that hurts.” He fidgeted in the saddle, adjusting to get more comfortable.

“Oh, just wait until after. You won’t be able to walk straight for the rest of the day.”

“Thanks for the warning,” he mumbled. At my smug look, he said, “Payback’s a bitch, babe.” I huffed in faux offense.

We took our time finishing up the trail, which looped around and led us back to the stables. I snickered as Jake attempted to walk, his legs and rear end sore from the saddle. I felt it, too, having gone so long without riding, but my stubbornness would never let me admit it to him. Before getting back in the car, he wrapped an arm around my waist and pulled me in for a kiss. “Thank you for making me come do this. I really did have a good time.”

~

I was woken up to the sound of a door slamming down the hallway. At the sound of cabinets being slammed downstairs I sat up, listening. Jake reached out for me and mumbled sleepily, “What’s goin’ on?”

I checked the time on my phone; it was a little after midnight. “I don’t…” I got out of bed and padded to the door to listen closer. I wasn’t hearing as much noise, but could hear Vivian’s voice, along with a man’s, a voice that was unfortunately all too familiar. “Shit.” I turned on the lamp and hurriedly threw on some clothes. Jake started to do the same and asked me again what was happening. I was suddenly very worried; I did not sign up for this. “I think my dad’s here. And if he’s here, then something’s wrong. Just… stay here.”

Vivian was bustling around in the kitchen gathering supplies. “Good, you’re up. You can help. My hands ain’t as steady as they used to be. Wash your hands.”

I didn’t argue or ask questions. I knew better than that. The living room light was on, and I silently prepared myself for what I might find.

My father sat in the light, shirt off, his arm awkwardly bent to hold a bloodied towel on a spot just below his left shoulder blade. His hair was longer, but he didn’t look much different than the last time I saw him. He also didn’t seem surprised to see me; Vivian probably already told him I was here. Whether or not she told him about Jake was still unclear.

“Mija.” He nodded at me. He never was one for heartfelt greetings or hugs.

I sighed, moving to his side and pulling away the towel to examine the wound. “Bullet?”

“Still there.” If he could take care of a wound himself, he would do it. But this was in a hard-to-reach place, so it made sense he would need help. The problem was that there weren’t a lot of people he trusted to help, so he would suffer as long of a drive as he needed until he reached one of his “safe spaces.”

“How long?”

“Four hours.”

That checked out. Infection was already starting to set in the edges of the injury, redness and inflammation spreading, but it wasn’t necrotic or life-threatening. Yet. Judging from the fact he drove all the way here (from wherever) and was still awake and alert, it was safe to say the bullet missed anything important. He was always lucky like that. I pulled out some of the supplies Vivian had already brought out and set to work removing the bullet. I’m sure the act of digging around with the forceps was painful, but he didn’t make a sound. He never did.

I was so focused on the task in front of me that I didn’t hear the creak of the stairs as someone came down, and I didn’t hear Vivian’s voice as she addressed them. I know I told Jake to stay put, but he either didn’t hear me in his half-asleep state or chose to blatantly ignore me. I’m gunning for the latter. Dad tensed up, and it wasn’t because of pain from the bullet I finally found and was carefully removing. I followed his eyes as they focused on the man he didn’t recognize, hackles raised and on guard.

“Can I do anything?”

Bless him. Despite the whole situation probably being unsettling, Jake was still here with me, offering his help. He got plenty of brownie points for not freaking out. With the bullet out, all I had to do was clean and stitch up the wound. “No but thank you.” I offered him a soft smile. Everything was under control. Except for the fact that Dad was staring daggers at him, and that was just how he handled strangers. We hadn’t even crossed the ‘discussing my relationship’ threshold yet.

“Dad,” I started cautiously. “This is Jake.” Bite the bullet, no pun intended, get it over with. “He’s my boyfriend, and I trust him. Jake, this is my dad, Antonio.”

Jake kept his distance, but wanting to be polite, as he usually is, said, “Nice to finally meet you. Wish the circumstances were a little different.”

“Give me one good reason I don’t gut you like a fucking trout.”

I was suddenly feeling very protective. I pressed my thumb as hard as I could into the edge of the bullet hole I had begun to stitch up. He hissed at the unexpected feeling and turned to shoot me a glare. “Knock it the fuck off,” I growled through gritted teeth. “You don’t get to show up out of the blue after however many years and be an asshole. Especially not to him.”

Of course, my father was incapable of knowing when to move on or walk away from a fight. And God forbid he actually apologize for anything. “Se ve como un imbecil. Pelegatos.”

“Yeah, real classy,” I said sarcastically, rolling my eyes. “You can’t even insult him to his face, in English.”

“Que te la pique un pollo,” he spat at Jake. I’m sure he could figure out it was an insult, even without understanding Spanish, but he didn’t shoot back any retorts, which I was grateful for. It only would have exacerbated the situation.

I jabbed another finger close to his wound, careful not to mess up my stitch job. “I said knock it off. Unless you want to stitch yourself up. I love him, whether you like it or not. So, get over it. The least you can do is be civil.”

He mumbled something else, no doubt another insult, but I stopped listening, and cut him off with a frustrated yell. I stomped my foot, much like a petulant child, and jammed the needle into the next appropriate spot, leaving it there. “Viv! I need you to finish this before I kill him!”

She quickly took my place, shaking her head. “You two…”

“He’s the one acting like a fucking child!” Everything felt too confined, too bright, too loud. The air felt thick, and my chest tightened with anxiety. I needed out. I rushed out the front door without another word. Jake followed. I paced back and forth, my fists balled up tightly as I tried to focus on the wood creaking beneath my bare feet. “He’s so insufferable! Can’t even pretend to act like an adult for two fucking seconds! He thinks he’s so tough ‘cause he can go out and get shot! It’s probably his own fucking fault, probably was being reckless because he thinks he’s invincible or something. Then he shows up out of the blue with a bullet lodged in his shoulder and has the fucking audacity to talk to you like that? What gives him the right? What is he gonna do the next time he gets hurt? His luck will run out eventually. You’d think he’d be a little more conscious of the fact that he faces death every single day, that any one of these days will be the last time we get to talk to each other, to see each other. But instead of just accepting that and just, I don’t know, being happy for me, for once in my life, that I found someone that makes me happy, he has to act like a fucking animal!”

Jake reached out and grabbed my arms, forcing me to stop my pacing and rambling. “Hey, hey, just breathe for a second, babe.” He gently placed his hands on my cheeks and used his thumbs to wipe away tears I didn’t even realize I’d been crying.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t want you to meet him ‘cause I knew he was gonna be like that.”

“Shh. You don’t need to apologize. He’s an ass, but I don’t think that’s what this is really about.”

“He just makes me so mad, and-“

“I think you’re afraid of losing him.”

Well, that was absurd. “What? That’s not… what are you talking about?” I stared at him, blinking away tears as I tried to process what he was saying.

“You’re mad at him for acting like a dick, I get that. But is it possible that you’re upset he got hurt? I mean, he got shot. That’s a big deal. I… maybe that’s nothing new for you. If I had to take a guess, you’ve probably seen it a hundred times. But that doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to be worried about him.”

“You’re insane,” I mumbled.

“Am I wrong, though?”

He wasn’t. I always worried, it was just my nature. Every time Dad got hurt, I always worried if this would be it; each bullet, each stab wound, each broken bone threatened to be the one that would take him out. Life is never a guarantee, but death seemed to taunt him, dangling the thread of fate in front of his face as a warning. You’re next. Most children don’t think of death often, much less worry about it creeping up on them. We weren’t most children. I don’t remember losing my mom, but when it took Luca, I realized how close it was. Death rode our trail like the dust I kicked up on the dirt roads I ran down. Every time the phone rang, I imagined it was someone calling to tell Vivian “Antonio’s dead. He isn’t coming back for his daughter.” Realistically, there probably wouldn’t even be a phone call. He just wouldn’t come home, and we would know.

I fell forward, burying my face in Jake’s chest. “He used to be so good at it, whatever he did. And smart. Or maybe it was just dumb luck. But now it seems like every time I see him, he’s hurt again. And it scares me.” That last sentence I whispered. It made my heart clench. I pulled away and wiped my eyes with the back of my hand. “And for once I would like to have a nice conversation, without him threatening my boyfriend’s life.”

“Don’t worry about me. I can handle it.” He nudged me toward the door. “Go talk to him. Say what you need to say. I’ll give you some space.”

I sighed. “You know I hate it when you’re right.”

He smirked. “But you love me anyways.”

“I do,” I grumbled as I wrapped my arms around him again. “I really am sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’m not going to let him scare me off. Other than threatening to gut me like a fish, I don’t even know what he said.”

“And I absolutely won’t be repeating it.”

“Pft. I’ll get it out of you eventually. But for now, go talk to your dad. I’ll wait for you upstairs.” He planted a kiss on my forehead.

“Thank you, Jake.”

I led him back inside and gave my hand one more reassuring squeeze before parting to walk back upstairs. I waited until I heard the door shut to approach my dad.

He was standing in the kitchen, leaning against the counter, arms crossed, while he spoke quietly to Vivian. They both went silent when they saw me. Vivian didn’t speak; she didn’t have to. She shot me a look that said, “Figure it out,” and left us alone.

I crossed my arms and looked around at anything other than him. In a perfect world, I’d wait for an apology, and we’d make up, but as I mentioned before, my father never apologizes for anything. And maybe it’s my inherited stubbornness, but I certainly wasn’t going to apologize to him; I didn’t do anything wrong. So instead, I would just wait for him to say something that would inevitably piss me off all over again.

“I don’t like him.”

“You don’t like anyone.”

“I don’t think he’s good for you, mija.”

“You don’t even know him. And how would you know what’s good for me, anyways? You haven’t been around enough to know I even had a boyfriend, and we’ve been together for over two years.” He seemed to ponder that for a moment. “Yeah, I haven’t seen you in over four years. Let that sink in.”

“It has to be like that, sometimes. You know that.”

“Still wouldn’t kill you to check in every once in a while, let me know you’re okay.”

“You don’t need to worry about me.”

“Clearly someone does!” I gestured toward him and his freshly stitched up bullet wound.

“It isn’t your responsibility, it never was. I taught you to take care of yourself only. And that also means not relying on some bastardo."

“It’s not about relying on anyone. I found someone that makes me happy, happier than I’d been in a long time. I found somebody that I can see myself spending the rest of my life with, and I want that with Jake. He sees me for me, not just some weird, damaged girl with a fucked-up childhood and without an actual family. Shit, even his family made me feel loved. His mother texts me more than you do! So, you don’t get to decide if he’s ‘good’ for me. I love him, dad. I know you know what that’s like because you loved my mom at some point, right?”

His jaw tensed and he avoided my eyes. “Don’t,” he warned.

“Don’t what? Is it so wrong of me to want to talk about her? My entire life you’ve done nothing but shut down when I try.”

“Let it go, Kya.”

“No! Stop fucking shutting me out! I can’t talk about mom; I can’t talk about Luca.” His breath hitched when I said my brother’s name. “I’m not asking you to be some perfect, therapeutic, emotionally available well of information, because I know that isn’t you. I just… sometimes I just want my dad. I know it hurts to talk about her, just like it hurts me to talk about Luca, but it feels worse to keep everything bottled up like that.” I rubbed my upper arms nervously. “Jake’s the first person I’ve talked to about Luca, outside of Finn or Vivian.” The fact that it was technically Josh I told first was irrelevant to this conversation. There was no need to introduce more strangers to my dad right now.

“Cuanto sabe el?”

He wasn’t just talking about Luca. He wanted to know how much Jake knew about him and his career. “Not much. Not enough for it to be a problem.”

“I don’t-“

“Trust him, I know. But I do, so just maybe you can trust me for now.” For some reason, I felt the need to reiterate, “I’m not a little kid anymore.”

He stayed silent except for the deep breath he took in. He never was great at handling confrontation, at least when it came from me. In his line of work, he could typically deal with it via some kind of violence. He would choose to die before ever hurting me in that way, so that option was off the table. I don’t think he had ever even raised his voice at me. Instead, he’d struggle to find the words until he gave up, shut down, and walked away, leaving me back at square one. I don’t know why I expected anything different tonight.

His expression was unreadable when he looked at me. “You should go get some sleep.”

I scoffed. “Yeah, so you can disappear before I wake up to avoid talking about anything. I’d bet money you won’t even say goodbye.”

It was then that I noticed how tired he looked. The dark circles under his eyes seemed more prominent than I remembered, and the air of arrogance and confidence he normally carried with him almost seemed completely dissipated. I tried not to dwell on it too much, blaming it solely on the late hour, his injury, and the amount of time that had passed since I’d last seen him. He stepped forward, held my face between his palms, and leaned in to kiss my forehead. “We’ll talk in the morning.” And with that, he walked away, leaving me standing in the kitchen, alone and dumbfounded. Did he mean that, or was it just another empty promise that would be broken by morning?

I’m sure it wasn’t for lack of trying to stay up, but Jake had fallen asleep by the time I made it back upstairs. I managed to get back into bed without waking him. I laid there in the dark, listening to his steady breaths until my thoughts finally quieted enough for sleep to take me, too.

~

Jake wasn’t there when I woke up, and the sun pouring in through the curtains seemed exceptionally bright. I checked the time on my phone and groaned; it was almost noon. I forced myself out of bed, and after a quick shower made my way downstairs.

“Well, look who finally decided to grace us with her presence.” Vivian was bustling around in the kitchen, cleaning things up as she went. Jake was helping prepare lunch. He smiled sweetly and greeted me good morning.

“Sorry, guess I just really needed that beauty sleep. I… oh, hello.” I didn’t notice her at first, the unfamiliar face sitting at the table. She was quiet, and I imagine really good at making herself seem small. Dirty blonde curls hung messily in her face, nearly concealing her eyes. She couldn’t have been more than 14 or 15. She had significant bruising on her wrists and neck, giving me an idea of what she went through, and also letting me know she hadn’t been here very long. “I’m Kya.” I kept my voice low and movements slow as I introduced myself and sat at the table.

She didn’t panic and bolt up the stairs to safety, so that was a good sign, but she avoided my eyes. “Sara,” she whispered.

“It’s nice to meet you, Sara.” In my experience and based on all the trauma this girl had obviously been through, it was better to let her come to me and call the shots. She would talk when she was ready, and nobody liked forced conversation and small talk. I glanced around the kitchen and into the living room, not sure what I was looking for or what to expect.

“He hasn’t left yet,” Vivian said. She never missed a beat. “He’s outside, I think. After you eat, you can go find him.” I wondered if dad had said anything to her about our conversation the night before.

Jake waited until we had a minute alone after lunch to ask how things went last night.

“About as good as I expected, I guess. In other words, I got absolutely nowhere.”

“Well, he didn’t threaten my life when I saw him this morning, so maybe you made some progress.”

“I’m shocked,” I laughed and rolled my eyes. “He said we could talk more today, so I’m gonna go corner him and see if I can’t hold him to that. Before he disappears again.”

“You’ve got this, babe. And I’m sure Vivian will find something to keep me busy with.”

“She absolutely will,” I grinned, hugging him and stealing a kiss before venturing out to find my dad.

At the northernmost edge of the property, there was a trunk from an old oak tree laid across the ground. That tree had been there before any of us, like an ancient forest spirit watching over the land it casted shadows across. Then one night when I was eight, a storm rolled through. I remember being fascinated by the flashes of lightning and rolling thunder, harmonizing with the heavy pelting of rain against the windows. We lit a bunch of candles after the power went out. Most kids would have been afraid. Finn hated storms when we were kids; he would hide in the closet until it passed. But I thought it was beautiful. I liked to think the sky sent the rain to clean the earth up a little, and that it would wash away all the bad stuff that haunted us.

It was during that storm the oak tree decided it had enough, and it couldn’t fight to stay strong anymore. It shook the entire house when it fell, shook it so hard I thought there was an earthquake. The next morning, while we surveyed the damage, I studied the splintered wood and the torn roots sticking up from the soil, and I felt… sad. I remember putting my hand on the rough bark and apologizing like it was a person. “I’m sorry it got too hard.” I didn’t understand at the time how much I would relate that oak tree to Luca, and eventually my mother, too.

My dad was seated on the fallen trunk, like we did often as kids. Luca spent a lot of time there; I think the sounds of the woods quieted the noises in his mind. I took a seat next to my dad, waiting to see if it would quiet my mind, too.

“He has an accent.”

That was a weird way to start a line of questioning about Jake, but I’d play ball. “He’s from Michigan.”

“How did you find him?”

“He came into Richie’s shop.”

Dad let out an exasperated sign. “Don’t tell me he’s a musician.”

“He is, and he’s a very good one. He plays guitar for a band. They have three albums and play sold out shows all over the world.”

“That isn’t a real job. It isn’t stable-“

“And working for a drug cartel is?”

“Kya,” he started. “I only want you to be taken care of.”

“He takes plenty good care of me,” I huffed. My next words came out before I could stop them. “Did my mom know what you do, who you are? Or did you shut her out, too?”

The silence that followed was deafening. I didn’t expect an answer, much less any kind of explanation, but after what felt like an eternity, he spoke. “Yes, she knew everything. I never told you how we met, have I?”

I stared at him, wide-eyed and confused. Who even are you right now? “No, you never told me much of anything.”

“She killed a man.” I’m sorry, what? “A preacher that was hurting children.” I didn’t need any clarification on what that meant. “I was in custody when they brought her in. She fought them every step of the way. She wasn’t afraid, and she was full of fire. I was intrigued, so when I left, I took her with me.”

“How’d you get her out?” I’m sure the details were nothing good. Richie once told me that when my dad was younger, he would let himself get arrested on purpose, just to see how long it would take for him to get out again. It was all a game to him. At least, it was before he became a father, and everything changed. When I first read ‘No Country for Old Men,’ I swore Cormac McCarthy wrote it about my father. Even the names were similar.

To answer my question, he said, “It was a different time in a small town, and much easier than it is now.” And he was good at running from the law.

“Did you… kidnap her?” I asked through narrowed eyes. I don’t know why I asked. I know he had done a lot of bad things, but I didn’t really think he would have done that. He was a criminal, a killer, but he had some morals.

He chuckled, an actual laugh. This was so surreal. Maybe these years apart changed him somehow. “No one could make your mother do anything she didn’t want to do. You’re a lot like her in that regard. She could have left whenever she wanted, but she chose to stay.” He sighed sadly. “She was a good mother, and she loved you.”

Now why did he have to go and say that? My eyes welled up with tears and I looked away to hide them. “What happened to her? I’ve only ever been told she got sick,” I whispered, barely audible. The quiet that followed made me wonder if he even heard me. I thought I’d cut my losses and be grateful for what he did give me, but then he surprised me once again.

“She did, and I couldn’t… she was sick, like Luca.”

I didn’t expect that, and I was suddenly feeling extremely nauseous. “How did she…?”

“It doesn’t matter how.”

“Tell me.” I’m not sure why I needed to know so badly. Knowing the gory details wouldn’t change anything. It wouldn’t bring her back. But still I pushed him until he caved. This was the most progress I’d made with him my entire life; I didn’t want to give up yet. “Please, just tell me what happened to her.”

He took a deep breath and straightened his spine, steeling himself. “She drowned. Whitecap in Corpus Christi. She went out into the ocean and kept going, until she couldn’t get back. She let the waves take her.”

My head was spinning now, and I had more questions but couldn’t figure out how to ask them. As the quiet settled between us again, my mind started to wander down a darker path, one of anger. He knew. He knew mom was sick, he saw what it did to her, and yet he still abandoned Luca when he was in trouble. He let this happen, left me to deal with it alone.

“Did you see it happen?” I asked, not waiting for his response. “Because I saw Luca die. I saw it happen right in front of me and there wasn’t anything I could do to stop him. I couldn’t save him. I couldn’t… why weren’t you here?”

“You’re strong, Kya. You always have been. You didn’t need me.”

“I was a kid for fuck’s sake! I was a kid who just watched her brother die, and who needed her dad! But you weren’t there.”

He clenched his jaw but didn’t respond. I didn’t expect him to say he was sorry or feed me some line of bullshit about wishing he could go back and do things differently. Every single choice he made in his life was thought-out and meticulous. It’s just that most of those decisions were made for him, not anyone else. I know he cared about me, on some level, in his own backwards way, but he made it so easy to be angry with him, to blame him for all the shitty, horrible things that happened to me.

The last thing I wanted was for him to see me cry. I spared him one last glance, one more opportunity to say something, before standing to walk away. I’d only gotten a few steps when he called my name. I stopped but refused to turn around and face him again.

“I am proud of you, Kya, who you’ve grown up to be. She would be proud, too.”

I squeezed my eyes shut to fight the onslaught of tears. It didn’t help, and his words did nothing to take the pain away. He didn’t try to stop me as I continued the trek back to the house.

By the time I made it back, I forced myself to stop crying but I’m sure I’d rubbed my eyes raw. Vivian was outside doing some work in her garden. She saw me as I walked by, but she didn’t say anything. She knew how conversations with my father usually ended; she was used to the tears.

I found Jake in the living room, seated on the floor by the coffee table, playing a board game with Sara. It surprised me to see her not only opting to sit in here with a man she didn’t know, but also letting herself have fun. It wasn’t lost on me that there was no way in hell Vivian would have left them alone if she didn’t trust Jake.

I watched them for a minute, how he seemed to connect with her so easily. She clearly felt some sense of safety with him, otherwise she wouldn’t be here. He made her laugh so effortlessly, like it came naturally to him. He’s going to make a good dad, someday.

When Jake realized I was there, he beamed at me. “Hey! Wanna join us for a game? We-“ His face fell once he got a good look at me and how red my eyes were. He pulled himself off the floor and came to me. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m okay.” I offered a weak smile. Part of me just wanted to take a nap; I was emotionally exhausted. But I didn’t want to worry him, so I sucked it up and pulled myself together. “I’ll tell you later, I promise. For now, I’ll take you up on the offer. What are we playing?”

~

Things were bittersweet when the time came to make our departure. We were ready to get home, but I always missed West Virginia when I was gone. It was my first real home and would always have a special place in my heart, even when I was hundreds of miles away.

Vivian was never big on heartfelt goodbyes, so she made it short and sweet. “Drive safe. And don’t forget to come back one day, ya hear?” Even Sara waved her quiet goodbye from the safety of the porch.

My dad, of course, left sometime in the middle of the night. I tried to push down the hurt; he didn’t bother to tell anyone he was leaving. What a surprise. Our conversation was still fresh in my mind, creating newly opened wounds I would need to work through. But as always, I would push it down, and bottle it up, at least until I saw him again in a few years.

I gripped Jake’s hand as I said a silent farewell to the memories that filled this place.

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TW: attempt suicide; sorrow; accusation.

I changed the cover as well as the sequel. I got to say my editing is improving. Do you like the cover of this chapter? For the readers to visualize what MC requested of Nemo, it exactly as on the cover.

Note: If you see this three-line phrase (- - -), it means flashback.

___________________________________

The clock is starting again, but this time.. it is moving faster, then slower, then faster.

Tick~

The twins birthday is coming soon, yet Nemo's story is still in silence. Each second that passes by makes you nervous. Unlike the time when you will know what time or date will happen to Aida or Aisha, this is very different, like being told to be cautious at all times. Though you never let your guards down and are always awake 24/7, it still can't help but divert your attention to something else.

- - -

After Carlo almost hugged Aida, which you prevented, and him telling you off to his mother as he promised, it wasn't that long before Sylvia called for you in regards to this news. She wore the same unappealing smile she always does.

"I heard what you did; didn't they teach you to respect your masters?" Sylvia scuffle said eyeing you sharply. Her lips were pursed, but she swiftly replaced them with a frown.

Not only are you alone with her and her son Carlo in that room, but Arthur is also there watching it all. Any servant will think that he needs to be there, and as the head of the housekeeper, he should get a lecture as well for not keeping an eye on a servant. For you, it's simply a show that Sylvia wants to humiliate you with.

Even if Carlo is giving you this smug look, thinking you can't win this argument despite the fact that you can, you don't give a damn even if they think it that way. For you, all you care about is going back out to check on Nemo. As long as you stay there, it could be happening any minute. You were about to speak and tell her the reason as to why you did it—to get it over with—when suddenly the door burst open, presenting Aisha and Aida, who were now walking to where you are.

Aisha gave you a quick peek before talking to Sylvia. Explaining what happened and how she and Aida were witnesses. As for Aida, who is now asking if you're all right,

"Did you really teach your son how to have gentlemanly etiquette?" Aisha asked, eyeing her and Carlo, who has this annoyed look on him.

"Of course, dear. Why wouldn't I? He just wants to play with you two~"

"If you call following us a play? *Frown* Your wrong. That's simply called stalking."

Sylvia then gave a quick glance at Carlo, who was trying to explain himself, only for Sylvia to avert her gaze. Inhaling before saying, "Aisha, where did you learn that word? This is not stalking; he just really wants to play~"

Aisha scoff "For you, maybe, but for us, it's not."

"But that doesn't explain why she needs to do such a vulgar thing to people who give her something to eat."

How you wanted to laugh at her remark. Yes, she has a point, but that reason is only for people who are on her side. As you get your paycheck with the twin allowance, technically, she or any of her sons don't owe you anything.

Aisha wanted to say something, but she found her mouth gaping with no sound to be heard. Sylvia, who saw this, hid her smirk underneath her smiling one. She then glanced at you and wanted to tell you the punishment or get fired as she couldn't have anyone near the twins as she couldn't conduct her scheme.

But before she could open her mouth, you stepped in. "Please excuse my interruption. Madam Sylvia I apologize for what I did. I simply thought that he was going to attack Miss Aida, and I quickly jumped to shield her."

"No! I just wanted to play with my dearest sister."

"You heard him."

"Yes, but I'm just following what the order is. I was tasked not only to watch over them and take care of them but to always guard them at any cause."

"Even if it cost your life?" Without hesitation, Sylvia asked that question. Aisha and Aida look at Sylvia. There was shock on their faces that morphed into annoyance as she took it too far. But before they could stop her or you from answering it,

You stand tall, looking at her straight in the eyes. "Yes." One word, yet it has a big impact. Not only you left an impression on her. But all the people inside that said room

Sylvia wore an annoyed look but hastily smiled to cover it. Soon she dismissed you and the twins. Even if Carlo tried to reopen the case, Sylvia simply ignored him. First, she let you go, not because of the contract but because she had a plan just for you. Second, you remind her of her past self.

Arthur also saw that. It was so refreshing.

- - -

Tock~

You found yourself in the same garden again. Where you and Sein met. You were simply gathering some flowers for the twins upcoming birthday. Ordered by Sylvia as a decoration for the party. Not only do you find this as a good opportunity to view the outside window of Nemo in case he opened it and do his things rather than walking past his room,

It was a field of vision to see where his room was, and you were just eyeing it. You can't help but wonder if he ever saw you talking to Sein whenever you go pluck out or admire the flowers.

'I should go back'

Seeing that you gathered enough You took one last peek before walking away. Only for him to stop you. Where he stands is where Sein is supposed to be. You find it weird and creepy at the same time, being wary of what Arthur wants from you. Did he follow you? Or simply stumble upon you after finishing his routine? Maybe... as well as you don't care.

"Miss F/N, what are you doing here~?"

'Are you blind?'

"Mister Duncan... *bowed* I'm simply gathering some flowers for the miss's upcoming birthday."

"I see~ but wouldn't it be best to do it before it begins?" Arthur pointed out how the flower might die if it stayed that long. Arthur looked at you with curiosity as to why you had shaken your head.

"Flowers can last up to ten days; they just need a good amount of water. And the birthday starts in about three days, so it will be good. Also, if I do it before it's about to start, I fear that the flowers won't make it."

"Hmm, you know a lot about flowers. Did you learn that from your previous work?"

'Now you're interested in flowers? No, I know that look.' The look he gave you is oh, so familiar. You wanted to scoff at this, as you had experienced it before. A very déjà vu event

"Yes."

That word again: simply, yet it has this impact. It just does that. It interests him. Your so mysterious... He wants to learn more about this girl standing in front of him with these lifeless eyes staring at the basket then looking at him. Who really is she? Now that he saw you up close

'She has a fair skin. a good posture... hmm'

"I should get going now. The missis might be looking for me. Good day, Mister Duncan." You bowed once again.

As you were about to walk away, just like what happened back then. Is happening now. Only this time, it was a different character and question. A shadowing.

"Why did you choose that among these other flowers, Miss F/N?"

You look at him for a mere second before thinking of an answer: "It's beautiful... Just the right flower for Miss Aisha and Miss Aida." You just wanted to be honest with him and share your opinion, but with what you did, it has caught his attention now. He needs to learn and unravel this facade he saw in front of him.

While he watches, you walk away from him. He soon followed, as Sylvia would be wondering where he was. What you two didn't know was that, behind the bushes, hid a boy. The boy has the same feature as the person F/N talked to. He has this shock—or surprise—and nostalgic expression.

Even if a year has passed since she left the world, that word—that exact word but in a more lively way. He can't simply forget that. After all, her memory is still intact in his mind. Even the smallest detail, he remembers it...

Tick Tock~

There's only a day before Aisha and Aida's birthdays begin. After that interaction between you and Arthur, you always find him looking at you with this smile, and you know something will come up. But you ignored it because it would distract you. Furthermore... Nemo had shown a huge sign.

A sign telling you to observe him even more. Be caution. Be aware. Double the standard. Be ready. Just like today. Right now they were having breakfast, but instead of having them all at the table.

"Where's Nemo? Carlo?" Sylvia asked, as Nemo's chair was empty.

"How should I know?"

"Sein?" Sylvia redirected her question to her second child. For a second, you thought he was eyeing you. Or maybe Arthur, who was standing beside you. Maybe that was.

"His painting."

"Again? This is the third time he missed breakfast with us," Sylvia grumbled. After the death of Lady Y/N. She noticed that boy always seems to stay in his room. painting until he asks for another set of paint. but even so when it comes to her rules. That boy will obediently follow. She may favor Carlo more, but Nemo is still her son, and this worries her.

Before she could order a servant to fetch Nemo like she usually does, you stepped in. As your instincts are telling you that today is that day. "Madam Sylvia. I don't mind fetching, young master."

"Hmm, may I ask why you suddenly volunteered?" Sylvia eyed you curiously.

Yes, you never volunteered to fetch him whenever he wasn't around. First, you don't want to get caught immediately. Second, you want to show them that you only take orders from the twin. Third this. It was a good thing that you had a good reason for her to let you go.

"It's for the way I acted toward. Young master, Carlo, I wanted to apologize for jumping to conclusions; I should have learned his real intention first." You then glance at Carlo, as you wanted him to give you this order. Knowing Sylvia favors Carlo She doesn't have a choice but to allow you.

Bowing at him, you then continued. "Young master, would you like me? To fetch young master Nemo as a way to accept my apology?"

Just hearing his snort, even if you can't see it, made you know he had the biggest smug on his face. "Sure, why not? At least you're not a dumb peasant!"

"Carlo!" Aisha exclaimed, glaring at him, who just gave her a shrug.

"What? She said it herself~"

"F/N, you don't need to do that; it was his fault. Not yours. Stay here." Aisha ordered, but you need to break some trust points with her as you really need to do this.

"I'm sorry, Miss Aisha. But it is against my morals to not apologize for what I did wrong—I am wrong. So please. Let me fix my mistake." Even if you had lost her trust. You did earn Carlo's and Sylvia's trust.

Sylvia interrupted, "Very well~ if that's what you want. I would let you. Go now"

"Thank you, Madam."

Aisha eyed you for a second before nodding at you. Allowing you to do what you want. It annoyed her as she felt embarrassed, but Aida quickly comforted her. As soon as you walk out of the room. Someone had followed you.

It took you a solid minute to reach Nemo's room. Obviously, you speed-walk your way to his room after exiting the dining room.

You knocked. *Knock Knock* but silent was only be heard.

You tried again, *Knock, Knock* this time calling him.

"Young master?" You then heard a shuffle followed by a thud, *Thud Thud*.

The good part was that the door wasn't locked, and without hesitation, you opened it. Heart thumping so loudly, sweat began to form. The place was a disaster. Only one painting remains in its frame. The painting that you requested before "The White Bird"

Nemo had enough. He was tired. He just wants to see her again, the person who comforted him. The person who sees him as the real him is the one who will appreciate him. The first person who gave him an encouraging word So before he joined her, he held the acorn close to him, remembering all the good memories.

'I'm coming. You don't need to wait Y/N'

-DING! DING!-

"NEMO!"

Y/N? He quickly glanced behind him, but he lost his footing. Falling to where he was standing. which was the open window where the sun was shining at him. This is what he wants. So why is he scared? Why does he want to be saved? Didn't he want to see Y/N a minute ago? But wait a minute. He heard Y/N call him. Was he dead already?

If so, he didn't expect it to be this painless.. or--

'Huh?

A pant and groan snapped him from his thoughts. not only that, but he felt His wrist being held by someone... So, he looked up. There he saw Miss Aisha and Aida's personal maid. Struggling to bring him up. What was her name again?

"Y-you..."

"I-I can't-- *pants* let you-- " Before you could scream and ask for help, a person made their way beside you, helping you bring Nemo back. You didn't expect him to be the person to come to your aid, but thanks to his sudden appearance, he draws your conclusion. As you caught his attention again.

This book made you look like a joke; you wanted to laugh and curse at it. It made you mere entertainment for the Dimoche family,

"Se-second brother!" Nemo exclaimed as Sein was now helping him.

It looks like they heard you after you screamed Nemo's name because as soon as Sein brought Nemo back, a lot of footstep can be heard and Sylvia's voice followed suit.

"What is happening--- Nemo!" As soon as she saw Nemo's quivering figure and face filled with tears, What's more, his room was a disaster. She immediately went to you. You didn't expect it, and neither did anyone else watching.

*SLAPPP!*

Sylvia had slapped you, and because of the impact, it made you look the other way. Feeling the burning sensation. It hurts when you touch it, but you need to endure it as she wipes the makeup away to reveal the scar. Not only that, but the contact lens had moved away from its original spot.

You didn't dare to look at her nor look up, fearing they might discover you. You also might scoff at her. Or you might say something awful. Obviously she quickly jump to conclusion.

"How dare you! After what we did, you return it like this?! Is this why you wanted to do it?"

You stayed quiet while Aisha and Aida tried to defend you, helping you to stand up. Arthur is trying to calm Sylvia, who doesn't want to. The servant watched from the back. Carlo is glaring at you. Finally, it was Sein's turn.

He first glanced at you, then at his mother. His lips were pursed, as this scene was very familiar to him: "Mother. Miss F/N saved Nemo."

"Saved? She obviously tried to do something! Aren't you here to stop it?"

Sein ignored his mother's question: "Nemo tried to kill himself. But Miss F/N here saw him before he could... She saved him."

"Is this true? Say something, Nemo!" Sylvia's hands are now on his shoulder, trying to make Nemo look at her. She can't believe this. What drives Nemo to think this way? Was she really focused on buying things? Just why did Nemo do this? Or maybe something else? Maybe the death of Lady Y/N?

"I-I.. it's true mother. I'm sorry!"

"Shhh. It's okay. Let's get you fixed." Sylvia called some servants to clean the mess, as she would consult Nemo. Ordering the servant to call a doctor as well.

Aisha wanted to block Sylvia before she could get away; she wanted her to apologize to the person who was still quiet. She could clearly see the handprint on your cheeks before you covered it up. Before Aisha could do so, a hand stopped her by grabbing her wrist.

"What are you doing? She needs to apologize to you!" The person who grabbed her was now shaking her head, confusing both of them.

"It's okay, Miss Aisha, Miss Aida. It wasn't Madam Sylvia's fault. She's just concerned. It's the same as what I did to protect Miss Aida back then."

Your eyes and cheeks is startling to get hurt. It was a good thing that they told you to go to their room, as they will tend to your injury. You want to protest and do it alone. but this is a good opportunity to introduce yourself as Cypress to Aisha.

It's time. so before you followed them. You face Sein. "Thank you, young master."

In their perspective, as they helped you, your hand was resting on the spot where Sylvia had slapped you. Your other eye was closed, and only one was open. The mobcap that was neatly wrapped around your hair was messy. You look pitiful, and it made them pity you.

Why are you still so kind? Why just accept it? Fight back. But, like they said, if you don't have the power, you're nothing but a low rank.

Aida had gritted her teeth at what you looked like. Aisha clinched her palm, almost taking out the blood because of her grip.

╰┈➤ ❝ [✎ 31 🕮 ] ❞

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ꜱᴄʜᴇᴅᴜʟᴇ ᴏꜰ ɴᴇᴡ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀꜱ (ᴘʀᴏꜰɪʟᴇ ᴘᴀɢᴇ)

[peninkwrites]

A New Era - Ch 8 of 11

Jack gets a new knife. Tubbo gives his lawyer some important paperwork.

[CW: gun violence, referenced abuse and murder]

crossposted to ao3

Ch 1

Ch 7

Ch 9

Mafia AU masterpost

~ Tubbo ~

Tubbo and Jack lock eyes when they hear the doorbell go off, Jack waiting for Tubbo’s word, and Tubbo for a moment forgetting that this falls to him now.

“Bring them into the dining room.  I want us at a table, I’ll… I’ll have them all put their hands on it where I can see them,” Tubbo nods shakily.

“You got it, boss,” Jack pats his back, an attempt at reassurance, before he leaves to do as asked.

“Jack,” Tubbo stops him for another moment.  “Going into this– I–” Tubbo doesn’t know how to say it, what he’s asking for.  “I’m expecting you to kill for me,” he says carefully.  “At the very least do some real harm.  And if that’s something you cannot do, I won’t blame you.”

Jack considers him carefully.  He nods.  “I’m not letting anything get to you, man.  If that means I have to kill a few of these bastards to keep you safe, I don’t care.”

“Thank you, Jack,” Tubbo allows his voice to grow soft and weak for only another moment, then he keeps moving.

Tubbo proceeds to the dining room, Schlatt’s last words tucked in his pocket.  Tubbo knows this meeting will determine if he lives or dies, if he will go on being able to protect his friends.  He doubts any of these men will seek out revenge for Schlatt’s death, but they could quite easily become infatuated with the thought of how easy it would be to kill an 18 year old boy and grab the empire he had so foolishly claimed from his father.

Tubbo stands at the head of the table.  He pushes the ornate chair back against the wall, he doesn’t sit down.  His hands rest on the surface of the table and he stares down.

He’s still in his socks.

Okay.  He cannot step out from behind the table.  It’s like a microcosm of all of his dread, the slightest peculiarities are enough to constitute weakness.  He cannot show them he’s in his socks.  He cannot flinch.  His voice cannot tremor.  He will have to find some way to make up for being all but a child with a kind face and a reputation of weakness.

He doesn’t know these people, not really.

He’s existed as a silent observer in their lives, he’s watched them all plot together and cater to the whims of Schlatt, but they’re no better just because they yielded to the bigger bully on the playground.  That’s all they were, really.  Glorified schoolchildren with guns and egos all fighting to be top dog by being the most violent.  To them, he has been nothing but a shadow, an errand boy.  He doesn’t even know if most of them know he was Schlatt’s son.

He hears their voices, a buzz of irritability, and Jack’s voice is sharp and Tubbo is relieved to find unafraid.

“Who the fuck are you, giving orders to us–”

“What are you, a fucking bellhop–?”

“How old even are you–?”

“You’d get answers faster if you stopped fucking talking,” Jack enters the room first.

The irritated chatter picks up in earnest at the sight of Tubbo standing at the head of the table and no Schlatt.  Jack is quick to stand beside him, giving Tubbo a look, asking and waiting for what he needs.

“Would you all like answers or would you prefer to shout at me?” Tubbo has to shout himself.

Somewhere in the din of them shouting their reply, even as they each go to their usual seats, irritation almost too casual.  They have no idea the gravity of the situation as they rant at him; he hears Schlatt’s name, some rather vulgar insults, and even no, we’re going to keep shouting.

“Fuck it– Schlatt’s dead,” Tubbo just says it, staring at them all, jaw set and tense and waiting.

For a brief moment, men so well acquainted with murder seem stunned.  Tubbo isn’t really sure how they’re all that surprised.  He hasn’t mentioned the manner of death, and he doubts even these dense bastards are stupid enough to think Schlatt was a beacon of health.  Maybe Tubbo should speak first.

“Really, boys.  You didn’t think my father was fighting fit, now, did you?” Tubbo drums his fingers on the table, the least blatant way of getting out some of this fidgeting anxiety.  No one is fucking saying anything.  So Tubbo continues.  “I’ll explain how things will be moving forward, shall I?”  Again, silence. Tubbo refuses to let it unnerve him.  “I know you all think my father ran a tight ship, that he was in some way… formidable,” Tubbo does nothing to hide his contempt, “and maybe at one point he was, but let’s be honest with ourselves, shall we?  For a long time he’d been nothing more than a pathetic, miserable drunk fighting for control.  He’d like to think he ruled with an iron fist but that’s a bit hard when your hands are always occupied with a bottle, am I right, gentlemen?”  Tubbo pauses, not expecting much, mostly just watching for someone willing to protest, but a few even give a short nod.  “Good.  Now that I’ve straightened that out, know that I have no intention of following in his footsteps.  So with a clear head and an iron fist, I ask all of you, do you intend to respect me as your boss, flee this city a coward but with your life, or do you intend to die?  Your choice.”

Silence, each man waiting, hoping someone else will act first.  Tubbo doesn’t even fucking blink.  Someone will try to turn on him.  Someone will make a move, protest his authority, ask more about Schlatt, something.

One man does not protest, but instead with an amused grin he turns to the rest gathered around the table, “I think we should be generous.  Let the little boy live.  But first break all his fingers, maybe burn out his eyes, so he knows not to meddle where he doesn’t belong.”

Tubbo doesn’t know if he should feel proud or unsettled that anger sparks inside of him before fear.  Jack steps forward, reaching for his gun, but Tubbo, not a quicker draw than Jack, but rather he made up his mind to shoot a man preemptively, he was unburdened by the hesitation of a choice.

Tubbo shoots the fool arrogant enough to question him.  Tubbo doesn’t need to be a good shot this close range.  The bullet cuts through the man’s right hand and embeds itself in the dining table, sending him staggering out of his chair and howling to the floor.  Tubbo doesn’t flinch as half the other men gathered jolt to their feet, one more reaches for his gun but Jack is already leveled with his head.

“Do you want to join your friend there?  If you try and pull a gun on the Boss, know I won’t be aiming for your hand,” Jack says with an icy conviction.  Tubbo can’t help but think of how many years Jack wasted in a profession of curtesy when he is so clearly suited for rage.  It’s still disarming to be referred to as the Boss, but it will only help his case.

“Sit down, boys.  We’re not done here,” Tubbo pressed on like they are schoolboys distracted by a bird in the window, rather than killers startled by one of their own still screaming on the floor.  “You’re excused,” Tubbo gives the man on the floor the slightest of nods.  “I suggest you pick whatever hospital is most discreet.  Ponk is not going to be around to patch you up today.”

The man staggers to the door, a trail of blood in his wake as he gives Tubbo a look of absolute loathing before he disappears.  Maybe the smart thing for Tubbo was to aim for the head, his mercy had added an enemy to his court.  Who is Tubbo kidding?  He glances at the many carefully guarded faces now settled back in their seats.  All of these men are his enemies.

The smart thing to do would be to kill them all.  Start fresh with the people you can actually trust.

The people you trust you would never wish this life upon.

Tubbo feels all the more aware of the empty seat to his left.  The seat normally occupied by Quackity.  He said he would let him go, and Quackity offered to stay.  Tubbo needs him.  But he also knows how conditional his support is.  He’ll have to leave eventually, and Tubbo will just have to do his best to be ready for when that day comes.

“If you would like to discuss my future plans, I’d be happy to oblige.  If you’d like to leave and… consider the options I have offered you, you have my permission.  And if anyone tries to take my place, to regroup, if I get even a whiff of dissent, no more warning shots.  Am I understood?” Tubbo gets his reply immediately in the form of a glint of metal, before Jack is in front of him.

“Oh shit,” Jack says mildly, staring down at the knife now poking out of his stomach.  Other than that, he seems completely unfazed.  “Now, what did we say about trying to off the Boss, ey?” Jack grins.

Tubbo had proclaimed it mere seconds ago, no more warning shots, but now they had to back it up.  Tubbo is finally frozen, utterly panicked.  Jack just got fucking stabbed and if Tubbo doesn’t hurt the man who did it it’ll turn into a free for all.

Jack does as he said he would.  He didn’t let anything get to Tubbo.  And now, he follows through and puts a bullet in the man’s gut.

“Aw, should’ve aimed higher,” Jack says dryly, even if Tubbo knows Jack couldn’t help but continue with a brief moment of mercy.  “Well, maybe if you book it you can get to hospital in time, yeah?” Jack puts a hand on the man’s shoulder, a mockery of reassurance, “I’d get going, mate.  Looks like you just weren’t built like me,” Jack smirks, glancing between the blood now dripping down the man’s front and Jack, who seems perfectly at ease with the knife in his own gut.

“All of you, get out.  I’m done for today,” Tubbo manages to give an order without his voice shaking.  Jack must be going into shock and he needs them all to get the fuck out so he can help him.

The room clears with remarkable speed, one man grabbing his injured comrade and dragging him out without much sympathy.  Tubbo goes to the door, his gun still at the ready, before he quickly returns to Jack.  There’s blood on his socks now.

“Jack– Oh shit, I am so so sorry, Jack, we’ve got to– We’ve got to get you to a hospital, oh fuck–” Tubbo is trying not to cry right now, but holy shit–

“Tubbo– Tubbo, mate, I’m fine,” Jack is still smiling.

“N-No, Jack, you’re not, you’re– You’re going into shock, I–”

“Okay, okay, it hurts a bit, but–” Jack takes out the knife and Tubbo makes a strangled sort of gasp of frantic horror, which is quickly exchanged for confusion.  The very tip of the blade has blood on it, the rest is instead marred by a white film.

“What the fuck?!”

Jack opens his blazer pocket and pulls out a broken bar of soap.

“Got lucky,” he shrugs.  “Thought I’d use it for dramatic effect.”  He frowns, glancing down.  “Might need… stitches though, I dunno.  Still got me a little.  And they had the audacity to call me a fucking bellhop.”

Tubbo laughs with hoarse, frantic relief, throwing his arms around Jack.  “Fucking hell, man–”

“Oi, careful!  I am still injured,” Jack says with halfhearted irritation, hugging him back.

“Looks like things started off strong.”

Tubbo turns and levels his gun with the doorway on instinct, relaxing immediately when he sees Quackity standing there, hands raised.

“Oh, Big Q, you’re–” Tubbo sighs.  “Yeah.  Thankfully, most of the blood isn’t ours.”

“Yeah, most of it,” Jack raises his shirt, untucking his white button up to reveal a shallow cut no wider than a coin.

“Yeah, you’ll probably need a bandaid,” Quackity says with a smirk.

“Yeah, right, fine, the man got me with a toothpick, but still, I’d say that was pretty fucking badass of me,” Jack holds up the knife, a small swiss army, “and I even got to keep the knife!  Would you look at that?  I’ll take it on my next fishing trip to cut the line,” he scoffs, tucking it in his pocket among his other apparently armored bars of soap.

“How are things on your end?” Tubbo asks, shifting restlessly and eager for a distraction.

“Fine, I handled it– Can you tell me exactly what happened over here?  That’s important,” Quackity scans the room like he can glean Tubbo’s newfound reputation from the blood on the floor; well, arguably he can.

“Yeah, yeah of course– but is Ponk okay?” Tubbo pushes.

Quackity’s focus wavers, endeared by Tubbo’s concern.  “Yeah, yeah they’ll… they’ll be fine.  I took care of what could and, y’know, Eret’s got ‘em.  And they told Niki too, so she can help.”

Jack looks puzzled, but he decides it’s not worth questioning.  “Tubbo, you got bandages anywhere?” Jack asks.

“Yeah, my room.  Under my sink,” Tubbo nods toward the door.

“Got it.  You fill him in and I’ll join you all later,” Jack gives Quackity a nod before heading out.  He didn’t need a bandage desperately, but he could tell there might be more to be discussed, something more privy to the two who had endured Schlatt’s reign together.

Tubbo knows the opportunity Jack has given him.  It’s like he can feel Schlatt’s suicide note burning a hole in his pocket.

“How’d it go?” Quackity raises an eyebrow at him.  “So, Jack took a knife, there’s blood on the floor, but no bodies– they come at you, then?”  It’s almost rhetorical, but he does want Tubbo to explain.

“Yeah.  Er,” Tubbo shifts uncomfortably.  “I didn’t… I didn’t kill anyone.  One of them, he threatened me and I shot him in the hand.  And another one tried to stab me.  Jack got in the way, shot him sort of in the stomach, but he was aware enough to walk out of here with a little help.”

Quackity nods, processing, a headache growing sharper behind his eyes.  “No fatal shots.  Okay.”

“Yeah.  No fatal shots,” Tubbo is defensive.  “I don’t– the goal is to not be like him, Quackity,” Tubbo’s voice grows sharp, a tremor he does his best to bury.  “I wasn’t gonna��� No.  Just– No.”  

“Tubbo…” Quackity feels cruel.  He doesn’t know how to be kind and keep this kid safe.  “You know you’re gonna have to learn how to–“

“I know, Quackity!  I know,” now Tubbo’s voice breaks, higher and so much younger as he can’t help but shout at his old ally through this bitter life.  He sighs.  “I know it would have been safer.  If I’d just killed them.  But surely– surely you can understand why I couldn’t.”

Quackity gives a sharp nod.  “I get it.  I wish there was another way, and I mean what I said, but I get it.”  Quackity sighs, once more scanning the row of tables, lingering on the chair directly to Schlatt’s left.  There had been a time where Quackity had reveled in the status of being worthy of sitting that close to him, the illusion of power when Schlatt treated him differently to all the rest.  It had been fun for a brief moment, to pretend their relationship meant he had Schlatt in his pocket, that the rest of his band of murderers watched Schlatt’s hand hover on the small of his back and felt envy.  They all must have seen it before Quackity had.  Quackity had never had any power.  He was allowed to voice his opinion when Schlatt felt charitable enough to dote on his pretty pet.  Schlatt had him sit that close not out of any kind of respect, but just to have him within reach.

Tubbo is not the only one fighting off a reputation of weakness.

Quackity tries to set aside his anger.  He hadn’t had time to seethe when Schlatt had been alive and certainly not now.

“You need to do more than just fire off a few warning shots.  I know you don’t want to kill anyone, and I’m not gonna keep pushing you,” Quackity is quick to reassure him when Tubbo moves to defend himself.  Tubbo doesn’t know why he feels like he needs to fight harder to justify not killing someone than the other way around.  Quackity continues, “but if that’s the case, you’re gonna need to do something else to root out Schlatt’s leftovers.  And… if necessary– if necessary only– get them all in range to take them out.”

“What, like people that actually give a shit about Schlatt?” Tubbo sounds surprised, laughing nervously.

“Yeah.  It probably sounds like I should be, but I’m not kidding,” Quackity remains grave.  “I…” Quackity hesitates, shifting from foot to foot.  “I do have something in mind.”

“What?”

Quackity glances behind them, mulling it over.  “Maybe we should give the bastard a funeral?”

“A funeral?” Tubbo frowns, eyebrows furrowed together.  “That would mean– okay, well, what’s the plan, then?  We let the body be found?”

“Yeah,” Quackity nods slowly, carefully considering it.  “All his little supporters will show up, I’m pretty sure most of them still think I’m in his good books, maybe we… I dunno, we’ll have to do some planning.  If we figure out who might be out for revenge, it at least gives us a solid list of enemies to start with, whatever you wanna do with ‘em.  I’ll have Purpled dump it somewhere the pigs will find tomorrow morning.  That means we gotta get rid of the blood.  I mean, they all know who he is.  I dunno if they’ll do much investigating beyond finding someone to give a medal,” he scoffs.  “Then we have a big, elaborate funeral, just like the old bastard would’ve wanted,” he grimaces, lost in thought.

Tubbo’s hand goes to his pocket, fiddling with the sheet of paper.  He is of two minds.  What good will it do to show Quackity something terrible?  The man is already dead.  There’s no point.  Tubbo also knows, if it was him, he’d want Quackity to show him.  He knows Quackity well enough to know he would want the same.  Without a word, he offers the paper to him.

“What’s this?” Quackity takes it.  His eyes scan the page, and Tubbo sees how quickly he realizes.  He quickly looks up, staring at Tubbo, not a word spoken, but Tubbo reads the exact, horrified understanding he had felt mere hours ago.  Quackity gives a curt nod, as if in reply to Tubbo’s unspoken kinship.  Quackity leans against the dining table and pretends his knees haven’t gone weak.  Another nod, a hand pressed to his forehead, eyes closed for a moment, that headache growing worse.  He takes a deep breath, refocusing, giving Tubbo a miserable sort of grin.  “Y’know, I thought the will he had me draft up felt like it was missing something,” a harsh, bitter laugh.  Quackity can only think of Schlatt digging the barrel of a gun between his ribs and calling him baby in the same breath.  Of gently shaking Schlatt awake only to be pinned to the mattress with a knife pressed to his throat enough to draw blood, even upon waking Schlatt wouldn’t get off of him, first he’d chew him out, even as the shaking hands of a miserable drunk made Quackity think he might just kill him on accident.  Fuck.  “Not the first time the old bastard has said he was gonna kill me…” Quackity mutters, staring at the list with vitriol.

“Me neither,” Tubbo tried to weakly joke back but the grim, furious look Quackity gives him makes it harder to even try.  Quackity’s rage isn’t meant for him, but Tubbo is still tired of people looking at him only through the lens of what his father could have done to him, what he had done.  Tubbo had killed him first.  That should mean more than the rest of it.  Tubbo isn’t really sure if it does.

“D’you wanna..?” Quackity doesn’t really seem to know what to say, patting the edge of the table beside him.  Tubbo joins him.  The two of them, it’s so strange how uncertain they are if they even have this kind of rapport.  That doesn’t stop Quackity from putting his arm around Tubbo’s shoulder, and Tubbo leaning in and letting him.  For a single, fleeting moment, Tubbo has this peculiar spark of guilt at the fact that, while killing Schlatt, when he had entered that room, Quackity hadn’t crossed his mind once.  Tubbo feels like he should have.  He doesn’t know if they’re supposed to hug each other, and yet he has some sort of feeling that Quackity’s name should have been in his mind during his father’s murder.  And yet, Quackity was the one who hadn’t followed him upstairs at first, who hadn’t gone into the room with him, instead he had been the one to wash away the blood on his hands, to help him clean up the mess.  Tubbo was irritated by how childish it made his first murder feel.  Not irritated enough to stop leaning against Quackity, no– somehow, maybe this part made as much sense as the murder.  They were in this together, at least enough for this.

"...uh.  What happened to your shoes?"

[wangxianficrecs]

❤️Resolutions by incendir

❤️ Resolutions

by incendir

E, 204k, wangxian, 14 works

Summary Part 1:  Sizhui cannot fall asleep for a long, long time that night. He hears the ever-familiar melody again. He thinks perhaps he has memorized it by now.

My comments: *wow, this series is so epic and covers so much that it’s really hard to summarize and this is a pretty shitty bookmark that perforce has SPOILERS so I dunno, read with one eye shut, maybe?*

The primary story arc covers wangxian and the 13 year interval, so Parts 1, 3 (13 year interval, Sizhui POV, growing up) and then WWX's return with Parts 4, 5, 8 and 9 (the relationship between the two plus their perceived desirability from others, including a long arc about an attempted sexual assault of wwx with attendant trauma). Parts 12 and 13 are Jingyi finding love and happiness and blossoming into himself: the OC is awesome, I love him.

Part 1: Sizhui's childhood w/lwj playing 'are you there, are you happy, are you warm' inquiry; sizhui being a relationship busybody

Part 2: haven't read yet, WIP

Part 3 (with folks hitting on lwj over the years) is a ❤️ and Jingyi cracks me the fuck up (see excerpt)

Part 4: when all those folks that hit on lwj in the previous story get to meet wwx, which is a hoot. Also, in the second half, we're introduced to wwx's deeply embedded insecurities and feelings of worthlessness, when he thinks that lwj is tiring of him.

Part 5: humorous in the beginning, with the Juniors heading off flirtations to which wwx is utterly oblivious; much more serious in the second half, with an attempted sexual assault and trauma for wwx.

Part 6: haven't read yet, 2/3 wip

Part 7: lan qiren/wen ruohan history, haven't read yet

Part 8: Extra from Part 5: wwx from the POV of the sexual predators (heavy)

Part 9: The (unsuccessful) sexual assault in ch. 5 from wwx's POV (heavy)

Part 10: haven't read yet, wip, 4/5

Part 11: haven't read yet, wip, 5/6

Part 12: Jingyi and Captain Yi of the Nie, flirting and finding their feet (first kiss!)

Part 13: The courting/dating of Jingyi and Captain Yi (spicy!)

Part 14: Nie Huaisang through the years, with his brother, with Nie Zonghui and Captian Yi.

Excerpt Part 3:  “D’you think everyone who’s propositioned Hanguang-jun is everyone who wants him?” Jingyi asked. “For every one reputable person who’s done so, there’s at least a dozen who didn’t because they thought they weren’t accomplished enough. You have to have nerve and accolades. You have to have enough nerve that you think you have enough accolades.”

“Is all you do theorize about Hanguang-jun’s personal life?” Sizhui sighed.

*THIS IS MY FAVORITE DESCRIPTION OF MO XUANYU, BAR NONE:*

Mo Xuanyu was a mentally-addled, disreputable, donkey-toting, village fool, whose spiritual energy was just a faint dot no matter how hard Sizhui tried to sense for it—whose robes were threadbare and covered in dirt and dust and who-knows-honestly what on earth else, whose hair was caught with bits of straw and grass and more dirt, tied up inelegantly into a messy bun; whose face still had remnants of the terrible white paint and gaudy rouge he’d apparently tried to wash off.

Sizhui was nineteen and already extremely confused by the events that had just occurred, frozen at Jingyi’s side, when he witnessed the worst, most vulgar, crass, unrefined proposition, that he had never thought he would see in any reality, be made towards Hanguang-jun.

13 years, growing up, various POV, grief/mourning, Inquiry, adorable juniors, lan sizhui is the best boy, lan jingyi is the best boy, other people hitting on lan wangji, protective lan sizhui, protective lan jingyi, protective juniors, immortal lan ancestor, jealous wei wuxian, insecure wei wuxian, married wangxian, self worth issues, self esteem issues, light angst, humor, domestic, protective lan wangji, protective jiang cheng, attempted sexual assault, date rape drug/roofies, trauma, recovery, happy ending, favorite, @incendir​

(You may wish to REBLOG as a signal boost for this author if you like – or think others might like – this story.)

[weishenbwi]

A Lesson Learned Ch. 9 "Mercury”

Group: BTS (AO3 version)

Pairing: TaeKook

Chapter: 9 Jungkook/Taehyung  (1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12)

Words: 722

CW: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat (click on ao3 link for all tags & triggers)

Summary:  A short chapter to get me back into this fic. The next chapter is already written - just needs to be trimmed and sorted. I’ll post it this week. Read tags and read at your own risk. Messages that disregard this will be ignored. Inspired by Texas Chainsaw Massacre. 

Jungkook has stared at the softness of Taehyung’s sleeping form since his eyelashes fluttered and his breathing became deeper, drifting off to rest away from his nightmares; the rise and fall of his chest in Jungkook’s shirt that’s too big and too unfamiliar. He watched and waited as the minutes turned into hours, for what he couldn’t be sure, as the thin sliver of moonlight crept through their room like an uninvited guest. It lay resting over the boy’s small curves blanketing him in an intrusive pale glow. It could have been a beautiful moment, should have been if the moments leading up to it were intrinsically pure and taken with permission.

But it had been volatile and vulgar. The contrast between himself and the boy, the carefulness he deserved versus what Jungkook made him experience twists something ugly in his gut. Now this intrusion... a sobering reminder that the world will always try to break in and steal what belongs to him even if he doesn't deserve it. He shakes his head and pulls Taehyung in closer.

It doesn't matter. He's entitled to it.

A shaky breath escapes followed by gentle kisses to every spot the light of the moon dares violate until it’s filled completely with his own darkness. It is only when his eyes are too heavy to guard against the unseen does he allow himself any rest; content in the promise that the tiny white pill he had given his puppy, despite tiny protests and weak fists, will keep the other resting peacefully well into the next day.

Taehyung doesn’t wake when Jungkook has to use the restroom nor does he wake with the sound of running water, the scent of mulled cider soap wafting into the room as if to fill it with the first day of Autumn. He doesn’t wake when Jungkook gets a glass bottle from a tall shelf and pours and pours, eyes refusing to leave Taehyung as his thoughts lacerate the distance between them.

He doesn’t wake when Daddy sends a message and Jungkook has no choice but to leave the room, locking the door as he exits. And he doesn’t wake when Jungkook returns with Daddy an hour later going over a checklist they’ve both executed many times before -lifting the shirt that hangs over him like a nightgown, his underwear pulled down to show the bruises from not listening or because there were paying customers or because Jungkook could. He doesn’t wake as Daddy’s cool hands caress his body nor when their lips meet like soft petals falling, his lips parting ever slightly as Daddy tastes what belongs to him as much as it belongs to Jungkook as much as it belongs to Seokjin. As much as it no longer belongs to Taehyung. And he doesn’t wake when Jungkook bows his head low, Daddy taking it into his hands to kiss as sweetly as he did Taehyung before leaving and locking the door behind him.

He stirs only gently as Jungkook nuzzles his cold body into the warmth that is provided through deep sleep and fluffy covers. "Thank you for being such a good boy, puppy. For being my good boy.”

If Taehyung were awake, he would have seen how well behaved Jungkook was, how he didn't make fists or claw into the palms of his hands at Daddy’s inspection of his pet's body. He would have seen that Jungkook’s face remained blank, his stance detached, as if whatever Daddy could do to Taehyung is not only permissible but proper. If he were awake, he would wonder how the moon’s light is an intrusion that he must be protected from but Daddy’s tender molestations are not.

But Taehyung is asleep and it is this small mercy that allows his consciousness a naive obscurity to the observations, checklists, and trespasses that Jungkook will not mention when the little pill has run its course. He nestles into the comfort of the boy’s tenderness, entwining their fingers in a cold, bruising hold not unlike a metal chain.

Taehyung doesn’t hear the words whispered into his ear or feel the length pressing into the thin cloth that acts as the only barrier between them. He doesn't wake when Jungkook begins to thrust lightly, the lullaby of gentle motions soothing like the rocking of a cradle.

[whatdoesshedotothem]

Friday 28 November 1834

8 35

12 ¼

No kiss very fine morning F48° at 9 ¼ am breakfast at 9 35 - Had Charles H- at 10 to say he found Spaldin best to deal with – A- and I out at 10 ½ for an hour – went to 2 or [3] booksellers’ shops for Rennies’ pamphlet on railroads – learnt that he had been surveying for a railroad from Burlington to York (I think) and that his pamphlet was probably on that subject  - Wood’s work 1vol. 8vo on railroads gone thro’ 7 or 8 editions not to be had in Hull - went to Wilson’s paid for inkstand an improvement on the Indian rubber stopper - the top of the box part fixing on with a spring instead of screwing - went into the Joint stock bank corner of Silver street to ask them to give smaller bank of England notes for the note for £500 n°3884 dated Leeds 21 June 1833 signed J. Booth that A- got some while ago from Briggs’s bank – the people civil enough but against rule to exchange so large a note for a stranger unless taking some respectable known person as guarantee - as the note might have been lost before coming into my hands – I thanked the people for the information and walked off – mentioning the circumstance to Loft House, the druggist, in the market place on paying him got his Palmer’s wax candles – Wilson could get me Chalmers’s biology 32 volumes  8vo. bound for fourteen guineas – would let me have for 55/. + 20/. a copy (got for a subscriber and thrown upon his hands) of Walker’s (published by Nicoles of Wakefield) map of the canals and railways of England and Wales, published a few years ago at 3 ½ guineas with a 4th at 2 guineas and an 8vo at 1 guinea volume of text by Priestley agent to the Aire and Calder navigation - but the map was mounted for hanging up and the back, at least, looked a little soiled - back at the X Keys at 11 ½ and had the agent the Messrs. B..... and Spaldin and paid him for 120 (six scores to the hundred of deals) 21ft. rid Petersburg deal at 5 1/2d. per ft. 50 America Pine (12ft.) picked at 4/3. per deal and 10 Riga oaks logs at 4/9 per ft. - the red archangel deals are ¼d. per ft. dearer than the Petersburg - the man said Charles H- had explained what I wanted the deals for - for railing or thin rafters, and the Petersburg would do better for these purposes than the Archangel which latter is of stronger coarser grain, but works better than the Petersburg that CH- chose the Petersburg against himself - Thomas Greenwood buys the Wiburg deals (and it is Wiburg I have had from him) which are 1/4d. per ft. cheaper than the Petersburg - there is a rise of 1/4d. per ft. since Greenwood was last at Hull - CH- says we have paid 6/. instead of 4/3 per deal (12ft.) of America Pine at H-x and that I have paid for Riga oak &/. instead of 4/9 - I gave the agent the £500 b. of E. note described at the bottom the last p. and in ½ hour he sent me the change (£400 in b.o.E. notes) as I had paid the odd money [over] than £100 out of what I had in my purse - the very best Archangel timber to be had of Spaldin at 2/1 per ft. cubic - A-and I out again at 1 35 - to call on the 2 Miss Bedingfelds Humber bank - the proprietors of the row of houses there are gaining 30 or 40 yards breadth of ground from the river - driving larch piles and filling up, which ground costs them 3/. or 4/. per yard for every yard measured on the surface - a great improvement, and not dear - 20 minutes in going - found the 2 ladies at home and their niece Mrs. Steel (çidevant Isabella Waterton) with them - looking well and vulgar - all very civil to us both - sat 40 minutes - detained in returning about 10 minutes by the bridge being thrown open for a vessel to clear out of the rock - back at the Inn  at 3 – A- had a mutton chop and I ½ of one and off from Hull (Charles H- with George in the rumble and Eugenie inside crowding us) at 3 57 - Hull is a town abominable for is radicalism – a meeting last night in favour of Hutt and Hill the present radical members, their constitutions declaring they were ashamed of the name of Whigs and should in future call themselves radical reformers - Wilson (our bookseller) a conservative, a tory, a sensible man, but says he is left in the lurch by all his high tory friends - the tory interest divided - Mr. Conuthers (the tory candidate from London who was to speak at 2pm today) has not much chance of success - off too late (at 3 57) to see much– a 16 miles stage to North Cave where we arrived at 5 53 in dark and were told we should be four hours in reaching Selby 21 miles for no horses kept at Howden – to change

SH:7/ML/E/17/0115

at Booth Ferry would not expedite us – it being a mile round about and we should have to wait for horses from the other side of the water – just 2 hours in reaching Lofthouse bridge – and at Selby (George Inn) at 9 ½ i.e. by York for my watch (as entered in travelling account 9 ¾) is ¼ hour too soon – very bad tea - ate and enjoyed our score of nice smelts brought from Hull - too early for them here by 2 months - sat talking till 11 ½ - we had had in the master of the house (Hawdon) - the Selby people not for the railroad being continued to Hull - everything would then pass thro’ Selby without stopping - the Selby line estimated at £160000 - has cost above £300,000 - they have borrowed of government £90,000? Walker of London the engineer - had Mackintosh contracted for the job (he did the last Hull dock and has just taken the new dock to do at Goole) it would have been done long ago; but he was a few thousands too high § and they have expended far more than that - the Line from Selby to Hull estimated at £300,000 but it will cost at least twice that sum - (§Mackintosh’s estimate of the Selby line £7,000 above Walker’s estate which Hawdon said was £160,000 or £150,000) - fine day – a smartish shower at Loft house bridge at 8 5 but tolerably fair again in about 1/2  - F51° at 12 ¼ tonight in my dressing room (no fire) -

[wornoutmouse]

Illumi x black reader ch 2

After finishing your own shower that you were pleased to announce had jets in the tub, you find yourself sitting cross-legged wondering what you could do since it was still late. You knew you couldn't try an escape because you watched Illumi lock the door, and as much as you would love to kick down the door and escape, you were positive that Illumi had informed his family or them damn butlers that you were not allowed to leave.

Next to the bed was a home phone, and even though you knew it was foolish to try to use you couldn't help but crawl over and lift it to your ears. When you heard the dial tone you quickly type in your mother's number. "Hello?" you heard her voice and it broke your heart to hear how cracked it was. On the bright side, that meant your uncle somehow made it. "Mommy?" you whined into your phone feeling the threat of tears behind your eyes. "Y/N?" you heard her yell forcing you to drag the phone away from your face in pain.

"WHERE IN THE HELL ARE YOU, DO YOU THINK IT'S FUNNY JUST TO TAKE OFF AND NOT CALL AFTER A RAID!?" your mother yelled and you deadpanned. "Mommy it wasn't a raid it was an assassination!" the line was quite all you could hear was a slight movement then the familiar echo of you being put on speakerphone. "THAT'S EVEN WORSE YOU MEAN TO TELL ME YOU HAD NO TIME TO CALL AFTER ESCAPING AND ASSASSINATION!?" You sigh and wait for your mother to calm down trying to choose your words carefully. No matter how strong the Zoldycks were you don't think that you could escape a motherly ass whopping. 

"Mom I've been kidnapped." your mom scoffed, "By who please tell me who the hell kidnapped you because if it ain't Jesus I'm beating yo ass." You roll your eyes before catching yourself thinking she could see you. "Some guy named ILlumi Zoldyck." you say in a joking manner. The call was quiet and for a while and you thought your mother hung up on you. "Hello?" you jumped at the sound of your father's voice.

He may not have the base of morgan freeman but your father was a person to fear if you got on his bad side. "Hey, daddy-"

"DONT HEY DADDY ME YOU GOT CAUGHT BY A ZOLDYCK!?" suddenly you were hit with an onslaught of deja vu and you couldn't put your finger on why. "Hey, at least I was caught! His mission was to kill everyone there the only reason he's keeping me was that he's interested in my nen." you choke on your saliva when you realized you slipped up. "He's seen your nen?" 

You frantically try to explain yourself, "Y/N we aren't mad, you did what you had to do to stay alive and that is rule number 1." You nodded even though they couldn't see you, 'Well has he said what he's going to do with you?" you could hear your mother ask from far away. "Yeah he told his family that we're getting married, but don't worry I plan on escaping before then!" 

 

Almost immediately your parents yell NO! "Y/N this is a Zoldyck we are talking about girl! They re stacked you better make his pockets hurt!" your mom yelled before you heard the sound of her being pushed away by your father, "Y/N we want you to come home but realistically dear, do you really think he'll just let you escape?" You sighed 'no' and you felt a wave of tears threatening to fall. "Why can you guys do something, you're to Don of the New City mafia!" you whined sounding a bit bratty. "Y/N being the Don doesn't mean nothing going against a Zoldyck. It will take only one of them to wipe us out."

You already knew this but you were just hoping for a slither of hope. "Y/N just try to see if he will let you visit?" you hummed in thought, 'the bastards so sure of himself he probably would'."Okay I love you guy's I'll let you get some sleep." your parents bid their adieu leaving you alone once again. You look at the TV again and shrugged, "Well it doesn't hurt to try." you grab the remote and stood in front of the TV and press the power button, jumping as it roars to life volume on 90. You quickly turn it down and flip through the channels and to your surprise there is a direct TV link to heavens arena. 

You spend the next hour watching fight after fight through boredom. By 11 the phone rings, making you jump as you hesitantly walk over. "Hello?" you aksed doubting it was your parents again. "Hello Y/N." you heard the monotone voice of Illumi over the speaker, "Hello Y/N how are you doing?" he asked. It irked you very much that he was starting small talk as if he didn't kidnap you against your will. 

"Oh you know me Illumi, I just love staring at walls for hours!" there was shuffling  for a while before Illumi came back, "I'm so glad to hear that I was assuming that it would be a hard transition but I'm glad it's smooth." You close your eyes and take 5 deep breaths in order to resist stepping on the phone. "he got to be fucking with me.'

"Anyway what are you up to fish eyes?" you ask balancing the phone between your shoulder and face as once of the butlers walked in with a juice box, a bag of chips, and a turkey sandwich. "Thanks, mom you mutter." unfortunately Illumi picked up on it and hummed in question. "I'm sure I bear no resemblance to your mother Y/N....or fish." You roll your eyes, "I'm not talking to you fish eyes. And you didn't answer my question!"

"Oh I am just extracting information from a client." there was a snap of something heard in the background. You ignored it, "Well I'm watching TV-" you were caught off by the sound of constant rocking on the phone. 'This bastard better not be doing what I think he's doing' you thought dryly. There was more shuffling over the phone and Illumi for once seemed a bit out of breath the rocking became more repetitive. "Illumi yo ass better be fighting a bear and not speaking to my while your balls deep in someone." you growl thoroughly done with this phone call.  

"While I would not use such vulgar words, I cannot deny that I am inside someone at the moment but I feel that they have no importance in our conversation." Illumi answered sounding confused and just as you were about to retort, loud and clear you heard, "ILLUMI!" and you promptly hung up the phone before sliding it under the bed to collect dust for the nearby future. "Gotta burn my ears off after that.

[bexterbex]

A Soul to Mend His Own | Ch. 13

Warning, if it hasn’t been obvious in the movies there is Nazi symbolism within the First Order. I will expand on this much more throughout the story. If this is something that bothers you, please just exit the story. The author does not condone any Nazi ideals, this is just for fictional uses only.

A Kylo Ren x Modern! Reader in a soulmate au with some canon divergence. —————————————SLOWBURN————————————–He is already the Supreme leader, searching the universe to find you, his Empress. Your name on his wrist has been the only constant in his life, while you have doubts about his existence and his acceptance of you. He isn’t in the database and why did the name Kylo Ren cover Ben Solo?

Originally posted on my Ao3 Crystallclover (If you can’t find it here)

Chapter 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7a | 7b | 8 | 9a | 9b | 10 | 11 | 12

Chapter 13: Into the War Room

You walked into the room and immediately regretted putting on a sweater that morning. The room was full of different world leaders, the U.S. President, the Prime Minister of Australia, Federal Chancellor of Germany, Prime Minister of France, Prime Minister of Russia, Prime Minister of Japan and the President of Brazil. The other end of the table was full of different First Order officers, General Hux saw that you had entered with Kylo, "can we get a chair for Lady Ren?” And one of the suited staff members scurried and brought one to him.

The general moved down a spot, Kylo seated himself at the head of the table and you sat next to him. At the other end of the table sat the U.S. President. You felt as if you just stepped into a war room.

The U.S. President asked, “Are we to resume?”

“Refresh my memory as to what we were discussing,” said Kylo.

“We were discussing how to best handle the riots that are happening in Paris, then the once in Hong-Kong, and the ones here in the U.S.,” said the Federal Chancellor of Germany.

“Yes, what is currently being done now,” Kylo asked, probably for your benefit more than anything.

“Currently we have a hold on all news media and social media around the world. We have stopped government benefits in the area, areas are on lockdown and there is local military involvement,” said the Prime Minister of Australia.

You spoke up, “Why are they rioting?” And all eyes turned to you. The other end of the table was silent.

“Answer her question,” you could hear the harsh demand coming from the vocoder beside you.

“The people don’t want First Order occupation,” said the Prime Minister of France.

“What are they demanding then,” asked General Hux.

At this, the Prime Minister of France and the Federal Chancellor of Germany shared a worried look before the Prime Minister of France looked at you quickly before saying, “The people of France are calling the First Order Nazis.”

The Prime Minister of Japan also spoke, “The people of Hong-Kong are calling the First Order a Mao regime.”

A First Order officer who you didn’t know asked, “why? Is that a problem.”

Your eyes flicked to her as she spoke. Knowing the answer. “It is, the people will never trust the First Order if they keep thinking like this. Unless you want all of the First Order in Paris to be guillotined you have to move carefully.”

She looked shocked at your answer, but it was General Hux that spoke first, “These Nazis what did they do?”

You weren’t prepared to give an in-depth WWII history lesson so you said simply, “They tried to occupy most of Europe through military gain, for 12 years. They killed over 17 million people during that time. They tried to systematically exterminate an entire race of people and ultimately failed. They are one of the most hated groups of people to have ever walked the Earth.”

“And Mao,” asked another officer you did not know.

“During his 27-year reign, he killed around 40-80 million people in China. Starvation, prison labor and mass execution to name a few. Although he helped build modern China, he and his regime were extremists. Mao is more controversial than the Nazis as some praise him for his resurgence of China’s world power. But the First Order should take both of their comparisons as insults if you want to move forward.”

The room fell silent to your answer, you could tell the world leaders were doing their best to please the First Order, but the people were retaliating and some in large numbers. Something would have to be done in order to maintain peace.

Kylo asked, “what would you suggest that we do in order?” He took your hand in his, even through the mask you could tell his attention was solely on you.

You thought about your answer for a minute. “You need to gain their trust somehow.  Panem et Circenses  or something. Give them something they want. Give them some semblance of power. I don’t know how to do it per se, but something would have to be done to avoid a Les Miserables style ending.”

“Bread and Circuses that is what you are suggesting,” asked Prime Minister of Russia. “Or power, you are contradicting yourself.” He seemed a bit annoyed that you were here.

Kylo’s grip on your hand tightened as his head snapped toward the man who just questioned you.

You answered before he did, “I cannot answer that for sure, I believe the people in France will want power as do the people in Hong-Kong, the Americans may be swayed with some sort of entertainment. I don’t know, have whatever public executions happen here, or give them someone else to hate. They are used to feeling like the best people in the world and now that patriotism and pride are stripped from them. Something needs to be done. I don’t have all of the answers.”

Kylo then spoke, “I would keep your thoughts to yourself Prime Minister and I would think twice before addressing her in that matter—even in your head.”

This made the Prime Minister go wide-eyed with fear.

Thoughts what about his thoughts? Certainly, Kylo couldn’t read minds, could he? You were broken away from your questions by him saying, “We will form a civilian consortium and allow them to give input on the way things are run in these local areas. I will have officers and local government officials heading the councils. We may have to adjust timelines for education and registration within these areas. Give them the hope of peace and control. I agree that public executions should be localized to one area. Shall we say the steps of the Capitol building? We should control the media as to not let problematic areas witness these executions until it has been deemed safe.”

Everyone was silent, you wondered how many hours they had been deliberating this before you stepped into the room. Hux was the first to speak, “that is an excellent plan Supreme Leader and Lady Ren.” The rest of the First Order officers nodded and clapped in agreement. “Shall I execute an order now?”

“Yes, and we will pause before our next meeting so that those who need to collect their thoughts may do so,” Kylo said pointedly at the Russian Prime Minister.

With that he stood as did you, he took your arm once again and you left to go back to the red sitting room.

Kylo removed his helmet and you watched him take a deep breath before turning to face you. His face was stoic but there was something wild in his eyes. He was trying to take control of his breathing.

“Kylo, is everything alright?”

He removes his glove and takes your hand, he seems to calm down. He leads you to sit down, this time side by side holding hands. He then gently takes off his other gloves with his teeth. Moves your hand to his lap and runs his fingers over his name on your wrist. He is lost in a trance, just slowly tracing his name—letter by letter. Again and again, it seemed like time had stopped.

“I won’t let them treat you like that. I won’t let them think of you like that,” he said barely above a breath.

“What do you mean? What do they think of me?” You were worried now.

Kylo looks back up into your eyes, the wildness was back, he swallowed before saying, “They treat you as if you are below them when you are above everyone. The Russian Prime Minister thinks you are…” His voice dies, he is struggling to say it.

“What does he think of me Kylo,” you ask now placing your other hand over the one that is tracing his name.

“He thinks that you are just some plaything that I brought in for my amusement, nothing more than a harlot who pleases me.” He was shaking, a tear slips past and his resolve broken.

You reach up and wipe the tear from his face, he holds his breath at the touch. He moves into the caress and you hear a whimper.

“But you and I know the truth. Why does it matter what he thinks,” you ask still holding a hand to his face.

He looks at you his willpower returning as a fire is set in his eyes. “Because he doesn’t even deserver to look at you let alone think about you.”

“What do you mean think about me? How do you know what he thinks about me?”

His willpower seemed to crack at this question. “I can hear him, through the Force. It’s like he projects them—his thoughts of you. He wants you, but he can’t have you.”

Your eyes widen at this. Shocked at the fact that he could read thoughts, possibly your thoughts. “I thought the Jedi use the Force.”

“I was trained as one of them once. Now I know better,” He paused the fire still in his eyes. “He is thinking of you right now. Vulgar, disgusting things. He doesn’t know who you are. Who you are to me, who you are to them. He wants to use you, in the way he thinks that I do as a slut.” The last word came out choked. He was angry and shaking.

Your thumb caressed his cheek. You flung yourself into his arms. He held you tightly to him. In his chest, you said, “like you said, he can’t have me. I told you before. Yesterday when we were in this room, I will stay with you.”

His face was buried in your hair. His labored breath became deeper. He held you as if the universe was going to rip you out of his arms at any moment. You stayed like that for a while before you separated. One of his hands now caressing your face, it felt like deja vu. The same position from yesterday. The man in front of you was broken, you were determined to fix him—to mend him.

“As much as I would love to stay like this for eternity, we need to get back to the next meeting,” he said while his thumb ghosted over your cheekbone down to your lip. He let go and started to put his gloves back on. And then his helmet, he stood and once again took your arm under his as you marched back into what you nicknamed the war room. Ready for battle.

[liliesoftherain]

My Hero Academia Main 3 Boys x Reader

Ch.11 Let’s Get Ready to Rumble!

Ch.1 Ch.2 Ch.3 Ch.4 Ch.5 Ch.6 Ch.7 Ch.8 Ch.9 Ch.10

A/N: I’m sorry I can’t really write battle scenes I SUUCK, but I do have a cute DadJeanist moment that makes me smile cause I wish Jeanist was my dad ;( (jk dad i love you but c’mon you’d want him to be your dad) I hope you enjoy this chapter! Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist, or if I missed anyone! 

TAGLIST:  @rizamendoza808 !(: @iris-suoh !(: @quicksilverfangirl​ !(: @shortperson202 !(: @noodlenerd101 !(: @matchamidoriya​ !(: @thorsbtch-captainnoobmaster69me​ !(: @pastel-prynce​ !(: @sunkissedneptune​ @monetfatalia​ !(: @legit-fandom-trash​ !(: @lovethewitchofendor​ !(:

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The arena was finally cleaned up after a while, as it was left a mess after Todoroki and Sero’s fight. Next up to battle, you watched as Denki took his place followed by the girl from class 1-B. You cheered him on along with the crowds who cheered for another match, but your cheers along with everyone else's were short lived. Denki had let out a large amount of electricity, only to have it blocked by the girl, the vines that made up her hair had grown and trapped him. Even if he wasn’t trapped, the poor boy used too much and had short circuited himself. You heard a laugh come from Jiro behind you, before a voice drowned it out.

“That match was over in what, two seconds?” 

You turned your head to face the person, and to your annoyance it was one person you really didn’t want to see.

“Oh great, it’s you again.” You sighed.

“Oh hello again mutt, I take no surprise in your classmates loss. I knew it was just all talk when everyone said class 1-A was supposed to be so much better than us-” Monama was cut off as he was dragged down from the wall divider that separates the classes, another face taking his place.

“Sorry about him!” She said apologetically before taking her leave. 

No one said anything but you could feel the annoyance, surprisingly, coming off of everyone.

Well, almost everyone.

Izuku was so distracted by talking to himself he didn’t notice the little interruption that had transpired, too busy writing down strategies. You looked at Ochaco as she glanced back at you with a shrug, unsure of what to make of the boy and his antics.

“Uh, maybe you shouldn’t try to plan too far ahead, it’s not good to worry over nothing.” You spoke out softy, trying not to scare him by being too loud.

That didn’t work as well as you thought it would, since he jumped in his seat, turning to you with wide eyes and flushed cheeks.

“Sorry!” He squeaked, “I didn’t realize I was talking out loud.. I just don’t get to see quirks from people outside of our class. This is an amazing opportunity and I want to make sure I can get all the information I can!” 

“Oh? You write everything down, don’t tell me you have info on everyone here too?”

“I do actually! Do you want to see? Here’s yours!” He flipped a couple pages back of the burnt notebook and stretched over the two boys in between you both to hand it off.

You grabbed it and looked at the page gently, you could feel Kirishima hovering over your shoulder to check it out as well. Izuku had a really neat sketch of you in your hero costume drawn out on the left side, taking up the entire page. While on the right side he had a bunch of information on you, including all your stats, strategies if he ever had to go up against you, and even some special moves he thought you could do.

“Wow Deku, should I be scared knowing you have all of this info on me? What, do you have my blood type too?” You teased.

“You drew her curves so good Midoriya! I knew you had it in you.” A nasty voice spoke up and you turned to look at him with annoyance.

“Give it a rest dude, that’s not cool to talk about a woman like that you know? Super unmanly.” Kirishima frowned, unimpressed at how pervy the kid could be.

Mineta just shrugged as you quickly closed the notebook so he wouldn’t stare at your drawing anymore.

“A woman's curves need to be appreciated.”

“Shut the hell up already, you fuckers are distracting!” Bakugou hissed out, shoving Mineta away from him and back to his place in the row behind him. 

He was already annoyed at the way you and Deku were talking so chummy, how you kept brushing shoulders with Kirishima. Because all he wanted to do was watch these losers fight in peace. Not hear your laugh, or worse, hear you praise Deku of all people. Now he had to deal with the little grape shit stain talking about you out loud? Why did all the attention have to be on you? Why were you always brought up around him? Why were you on his mind, especially when he should be thinking about his upcoming battle, even if he knew he was going to win. That smile you were giving him wasn’t helping either, why the hell were you smiling at him like that!? 

He thought back to when you brushed noses and with that thought he turned his head away from you in a hurry, feeling heat creep along his face as he remembered how close you two were. 

You gave him a smile of appreciation, one he outright ignored as he turned away abruptly. So you turned to Kirishima and smiled shyly for the same reason.

“He’s such a pervert, thanks.” You whispered.

“It’s my duty as a man and as a hero to protect the innocent from dangerous leeches.” He winked, speaking as softly as you were.

You giggled and looked back at Izuku who was still giving Mineta a look, you’ve never seen Midoriya glare so hard, it was a little weird. You didn’t like him without a smile on his face, so you grabbed his attention and attempted to put a smile there instead.

“Anyways Izuku, this is really cool. I always knew you were determined but this really takes it to a whole other level.”

It seemed to work, because as soon as he heard your voice a sweet and nervous smile was back on his face.

“Th-thanks!”

Izuku felt the blood rush to his face as he brushed hands with you as you gave him his notebook back. Your hands were so warm and your smile was so kind, he couldn’t help it. He felt annoyance at Mineta for saying those things about you, and it caused him to remember how Shinsou was talking about you like that too. No one had the right to talk about you, or anyone like that. Yeah you were pretty, really pretty, but that doesn’t mean they were allowed to talk about you like you were a piece of meat! 

His eyes widened a tad as he thought back to how he looked at you when you walked out with the other girls in your cheer uniform. Oh God, he did the same thing didn’t he? He was a pervert too wasn’t he! What a vulgar word! He didn’t want to be anything of the sort.

You watched as he shook his head frantically and laughed, not knowing the internal struggle he was going through. 

Your laugh broke him out of his daze and he couldn’t help the dopey grin that spread along his face. What was wrong with him?

“Let’s get ready to watch two new players duke it out! He’s the kid with engines in his legs, Tenya Iida from the Hero Course! Versus a fully equipped gadget dinamo from the support course, Mei Hatsume!”

“So it’s hero vs support huh?” Jirou muttered.

“I have no idea what this fight could look like!” Tsuyu said.

“Uh, what’s up with Iida’s outfit?” Sato questioned.

“Is he wearing gear?” You squinted.

Down below, Iida was putting on the equipment given to him from Hatsume herself. And after some reluctance and asking on iida’s part, Midnight had allowed it.

Even though the speech he made sounded like it was something Hatsume was using to make the playing field fair, she was doing anything but. Iida was being played like a fiddle and you looked on in pity. However, you didn’t stay to watch the end of the match, knowing your turn was up next. It seems Mina was already gone, probably in one of the waiting rooms available for the participants. You got up and went to leave as well, waving to those who wished you luck before making your way to one of the hallways that lead to the entrance. 

You took a deep breath tried to calm your nerves,  someone calling out to you while you did so. Your eyes went wide at the familiar voice and spun on you heel to see them walk up to you.

“Dad?” You grinned, attacking him in a hug.

“Hello sweetheart, you’re doing amazing.” He returned the hug.

“I’m glad you’re here.” You mumbled, enjoying the familiar denim the rubbed on your face from his hero suit.

“So am I sweetheart, it’s been surreal watching you perform out there. Although I am concerned on how reckless you were, is you arm alright?” He pulled away to look and touch your shoulder gently. Trying to analyze it for himself. 

“Yes dad I’m fine. I barely feel it now, and ‘sides, a little pain is nothing for this gal.” You laughed, pointing a thumb to your chest.

“Hm yes, I suppose so. A little setback has never stopped you.” He smoothed your hair down in an attempt to neaten it.

“I was also a little perplexed, to say the least, to see you and that Bakugou boy-”

“AH no!” You cut him off, embarrassment flooding your cheeks, “It was an accident, there’s nothing going on there at all.”

He looked at you with narrowed eyes and a raised eyebrow.

“I swear!”

He only hummed in response, accepting your answer for now. But you knew you definitely weren’t off the hook, the thought making you groan on the inside.

With the silence that stretched in the corridor, you felt your fears creep in once more.

“Dad?” Your voice timid.

“Yes?” 

“I’m.. I’m a bit nervous. What if I don’t win?”

“(y/n), the moments you feel like this is exactly why you remain focused and have an unwavering determination. This will lead you into victory no matter the outcome. Even if you do not happen to win, your victory will be in your perseverance and growth. Let your fear turn into your driving factor, give yourself a reason to fight. There is no reason to doubt yourself, you’ll always make me proud.” The corners of his eyes crinkled, indicating he smiled even if it was hidden behind his costume.

“Thanks dad, you’re right as always. I love you.” You smiled.

“I love you too sweetheart,” The announcement for you to make your way to the arena was heard overhead, “now go and make your mark on the world.”

“Right!” You gave him one last hug before walking away from him, and onto the field. The crowd was a blur, faces unidentifiable from here, but you spotted all your classmates and felt your determination harden. If they could be brave, so would you.

“Let’s jump right along to the fifth match! Is there some reason she has those things sticking out of her head? From class 1-A, Mina Ashido! Versus, our quick-witted miss who definitely has got the skills and potential, also from 1-A, (y/n) Hakamata!”

“I have this in the bag bestie!” An unshaken smile on her face, “sorry to say you’ll be losing!”

“We’ll have to see about that now won't we?” Your own steely grin present.

“Well let’s get started! Let the fifth match, BEGIN!”

You attacked first, sending off a blast off light that she immediately dodged with ease. 

“HA, you’ll have to be quicker than that!” She called out.

She was using her quirk like skates, her acid granting her a slippery path to glide along, making it easier to dodge your long ranged attacks. She had always seen you use long range attacks, and you wanted to use that to your advantage. She probably assumed you weren’t as skilled in close combat, but that’s where her downfall would be.

She rushed at you and you quickly bent the light to wrap around your fists and upper arms, hardening while retaining its heat. You braced yourself as she threw a punch, counter attacking as she pulled her hand back quickly due to what you assumed was the burning. You brought your own arm up and tried to catch her off guard, but she managed to dodge the first swing, but she failed to notice your left jab coming straight after your right hook. 

She cried out as she was thrown back, catching herself before she flew out of bounds.

“Ye-ouch! That’s hot!”

You lunged again but this time she knew better than to let you get close, she skated away from you, keeping her distance. She flung her acid in your direction, but missed. Several times. So you kept up the charade of dodge and attack while trying to figure out why she wasn’t aiming for you. A crack alerted you and that’s when you knew, she was trying to make the whole area fall apart and give you no time to collect yourself, making you fall out of bounds. What a great idea.

Forming a plan, you got to work. Assaulting her with beam after beam from both hands, not giving her time to rest as she had to stay on her toes to make sure she wasn’t hit.You made your way closer to the edge, giving Mina the impression she could trap you there.

“I’ve got you now!” She shouted.

“You sure?” You asked.

She looked confused and you knew it had worked. While she was inching her way closer to you in hopes to knock you off, she failed to notice that now she was standing very close to the area that had been damaged with acid earlier.

You sent a large beam of solid light straight next to her feet, the most unstable part of the arena. She thought she dodged your attack, but instead landed on now crumbling cement with a yelp. You used this distraction to your advantage, crouching low and kicking the air as you did. Solid, yet cooled, light shot out from your outstretched foot. The momentum knocking into Mina’s back and sent her tumbling to the right and face first out of the boundary. 

“Ashido is out of bounds! Hakamata shall move on to the next round!” Midnight announced, the crowd going wild.

“Well you saw it here folks, finally we got our first real action packed battle! Thanks girls!” 

You walked to Mina and extended your hand to help her up, which she gladly took. 

“Well I guess I spoke too soon didn’t I?” She snickered, pulling herself up with your help.

“Maybe just a bit, but you were a worthy opponent nonetheless.”

“Oh you know it!”

You both laughed as you walked off the field together, no hard feelings present. You did feel an overwhelming amount of relief and happiness though, even though you knew there was more battles, you let yourself enjoy this win.

Walking into the long halls you saw the next participant walking towards you both.

“Oh hey Momo!” Mina yelled out with a wave.

“Hello girls, good fight from the both of you! And congratulations Hakamata, I’ll be looking forward to our fight once I win.” Momo smiled.

“Well I’ll look forward to it!” 

“Who are you fighting Momo?” Mina wondered.

“Tokoyami. He has a pretty impressive quirk, so I’m going to have to be cautious and execute a phenomenal plan.”

“Well I have no doubts you’ll do great.”

“Thank you Hakamata-”

“C’mon Momo, call me (y/n)! Don’t worry, I’ll still let you call me it if you beat me. If you can.” You joked.

“Alright, you better be careful what you say (y/n), karma may favor me after your boasting.”

“Me? Boast? Never!”

You all giggled, wishing Momo good luck before parting ways, her heading towards the arena while you two continued your journey to the balcony. Once you arrive, you notice Izuku sitting alone in the front row by himself, so you took a seat directly to his right. As soon as he felt your presence he grinned, eyes wide in wonder and happiness.

“(y/n)! That match was really incredible! Like, the way you were able to maneuver Ashido by the unstable part of the arena without her noticing? It’s such a smart tactic to think of on the spot!”

“Way to rub it in Midoriya!” Mina huffed, crossing her arms with a pout.

“Sorry! You did really well Ashido, I knew this was going to be an amazing match! But (y/n) you’re power is so incredible to see in action! I mean, I already knew that it was and I told you it before when I wanted you on my team earlier, but I just didn’t realize there was so much you could do? Is there a limit on how far you can make the light stretch? Or how hard you can manipulate it? We’ve already seen you use it like bracers or gloves and as beams but like, is there a way to-”

“Shut the hell up shitty nerd! Quit fangirling and rambling like an idiot!” Bakugou rolled his eyes and stood up.

He walked away from the seats, deciding to wait in one of the training rooms to get some peace and quiet before his match. What was Deku’s problem, looking at you like some puppy dog? He acted as if your win was a surprise to him, which was just stupid because he was praising you and your quirk to the tail man before you went on, so what gives? Bakugou knew you were going to win, while raccoon eyes didn’t seem that bad of a fighter, you were the one on his team after all. Which was something that made him smirk, knowing you chose his team over Deku’s. Ha, he knew it. He knew he was better than that loser, and it seemed you knew it too. So why the hell were you always talking to him?

Your eyes followed Bakugou’s form as he stalked off, before turning back to comfort Izuku whose face had gone bright red from being called out.

“Thanks Deku! But, I do have to keep some things a secret you know. Can’t have you knowing all of my tricks now can I?” You winked.

“Uh yeah of course not!” 

“So Midoriya, who do you think is going to win this one? Since your prediction for Hakamata’s match was right?” Oijiro asked as he leaned forward, his arms crossed and on top of the seat to Deku’s left.

As he trailed off answering Oijiro’s questions, you felt yourself blush. He had gotten the last prediction right? Meaning he thought you were going to win, did he have that much faith in you?

“Now lets not let this hot-streak cool! Time to move onto the 6th round! This guy is offense and defense in one, the dark samurai and his darker shadow! From Class 1-A hero course, Fumikage Tokoyami! Versus, the great creator! She was admitted on recommendations and we could see why from the previous matches! It’s Momo Yaoyorozu who is also a Class 1-A student! So let’s get going, 6th match, BEGIN!”

You watched closely, knowing whoever won this was going to be your opponent for your next match. While you had faith in Momo, knowing her quirk was incredible all on its own, Tokoyami was also someone with a powerful quirk.

As if to prove your thoughts, Tokoyami wasted no time by having dark shadow ram into Momo’s shield relentlessly. She could barely react and it was apparent that she was flustered, seeing as she was pushed out of bounds in under thirty seconds.

Your eyebrows drew together while crossing your arms at the fact you would have to go up against him. It was a little troublesome, since you weren’t sure how dark shadow fared in physical attacks. He took a direct hit from on of Bakugou’s explosions, but as far as you could tell there was no damage done while he blocked it.

“Tokoyami is way too powerful!” Deku’s mouth dropped, and all you could do was hum in agreement.

You hoped you could figure out some type of plan to win, you came this far and there was no way you were backing down now.

[fuyupeach]

In The Works // Ryuji Sakamoto x Reader - chapter 5

prologue / ch.1 / ch.2 / ch.3 / ch.4

follow/keeo track on ao3 ! i always post there first (which is why this is being posted after MANY months here despite already being on ao3 lmao)

Your first year at Shujin finally ends, the feeling of what must’ve been weights on your shoulders finally dissipating as your footsteps increase the distance from you and the campus.

“Whoa, slow down, ____! I’m just as eager to leave as you, but the ramen shop can wait a little bit.” Ryuji chuckles behind you. You turn slightly to look at him, a small guilty look forming on your face as he limps slightly.

“Sorry,” you say, stopping for a moment as Ryuji makes his way next to you, school bag hanging loosely on his shoulder, the messenger strap on yours gripped tightly between your hands as it flops in front of you from the sudden stop. “Seeing Kamo shit a on the way out ticked me off.”

“But, the last day of school isn’t supposed to be about him. It’s about… ” you shake off the last remnants of your annoyance, jumping and latching onto Ryuji’s arm--Ryuji letting out a small, “Oof.”--as you finish your sentence. “ Ramen! ”

It had become a promise between the two of you to eat ramen as a celebration at the end of the school year since he had come back your third year of middle school. Though you weren’t a big fan of ramen, you would still eat it with him. Maybe you could convince him to let you guys find a place with great ramen and sushi as a compromise between the two of you for the end of your second year.

“Ha, yeah, the douchebag had that ugly smirk on his face, as usual.” Ryuji continues walking with your arm looped through his, the two of you almost at the station. “ Bleh, just thinkin’ ‘bout him puts a bad taste in my mouth. But, you’re right, let’s go. RAAMENN! ” he shouts, pumping his free arm in the air, a laugh escaping you.

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

Your summers had become much more eventful thanks to Ryuji, but it didn’t stop you from your homebody tendencies, you still needed a break from the fun, and the competitive atmosphere that couldn’t be beat when it came to the arcades during the summer. How all these people could be constantly worked up about Gun About beats you, but to each their own. You had finally managed to win one of the electronic prizes from the claw machine with Ryuji’s help, so you were content for a while.

The very same plum colored headphones you had won were on your head as you sit on your bed, back against the wall as you scrolled mindlessly on your phone for cat videos. Your actual cat, Luna, lays at your feet, unperturbed by the lamp that dimly lit your room and her black fur in turn, her ears already accustomed to the sound of Ryuji’s voice that floated into your room from the bathroom. Your mother had already knew Ryuji almost as long as you did, surprisingly agreeing on Ryuji sleeping over for the night, more than likely because of the few all nighters you would spend with him helping him study for finals. Your mother and brother were just like Ann and Shiho, taking opportunities to tease you about Ryuji, your mother winking as she agreed.

“--____! ____!” You hear Ryuji’s voice cut in from your headphones. You check your phone to see it’s past midnight.

“ Shh! ” You say, putting your headphones down on your bed and striding quickly to the bathroom. “Everyone’s already asleep--” You peek into the bathroom, cutting yourself off as you see Ryuji. You had known he was in the process of bleaching his hair--you were actually the one to encourage him to do it as he tentatively brought it up to you one day--, but actually seeing it in the process was something in itself. “Wow.” You bring yourself to say after staring for a few moments.

Ryuji dismisses you with a wave before looking away from the mirror and turning to you. “Their doors are closed anyway; I doubt I was that loud. Didn’t know how high you had your headphones up.” He smiles. “But anyways, do ya mind helping me get the rest of this bleach on the back of my head? I wanna make sure everything is covered. Extra gloves are in the box over there.” Ryuji nods over to the box he’s sitting to the right of on the bathtub counter.

You reach over and pluck the gloves from the box that read ‘Palty’, pulling an extra plastic seat from the corner of the bathroom and plopping behind Ryuji, gloves now on. Ryuji hands you the container with the bleach, quickly running you through what to do. You apply the bleach to his hair as he bounces his knees, tapping his fingers against them as he hums a tune. “Thanks.” Ryuji says, turning to you for a second while you put more bleach on the brush, sending a grin your way.

“No problem, Ryu.” You mumble, focused on applying the sections as well as you could.

“This is gonna turn out awesome!” Ryuji exclaims. You can tell by his voice alone the excitement he’s holding back so you can finish, fist pumping the air once you are.

“I definitely think it will.” You smile back at him as he pulls the plastic cap over his head. “Shouldn’t be too hard to manage since your hair is short.”

An hour passes as you help Ryuji wash and tone his hair, the both of you staring in awe, him through the mirror and you at him. His hair was still a little damp, but the change was one you thought suited Ryuji really well, a small flush tinting your cheeks.  

“For real?” Ryuji smiles as he inspects his hair. “This is so cool.”

“See?” You smirk, eyes closed in a smug expression. “Told you it’d turn out great. You’re welcome.” You open your eyes just in time to see Ryuji holding out his hand, giving him a high five before you two clean up settle down for the night.

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

Timeskip 4/11

“What’s taking him so long…?” You tap your feet against the floor, the turtleneck underneath your uniform coat doing a somewhat good job at staving off the cold that came with this morning’s rain. You had remembered that with the early spring season often came rain, so you had snagged an umbrella before you left. If it rained, great, if it didn’t, well then you’d be carrying an umbrella around for the rest of the day. Lucky for you, it was. Knowing Ryuji however, he more than likely won’t have one when he arrives… But seriously, where was he? You take a quick glance around the outside of Aoyama-Itchome Station before shifting your umbrella in your hand, getting ready to take out your phone so you could text him.

You don’t get a full word in before you hear Ryuji’s voice calling out to you.

“___!” You turn to see him jogging towards you and ducking for cover--because just as you guessed, he had no umbrella. “Sorry, slept in a bit.”

“Hah,” You shake your head. “Should’ve known. Well, let’s go, sleepyhead, don’t wanna be late. Get under.” You motion for Ryuji to follow you, hand raising the umbrella just a bit higher. You were on the taller side, so there wasn’t that big of a gap between Ryuji and you.

“Who’re you calling the sleepyhead?” Ryuji pokes your rib as he walks alongside you. “I’m not the one who sleeps over 9 hours on weekends--”

Ryuji’s voice cuts off as he sees something in front of him catch his attention, running ahead and leaving you in confusion. You turn your head in the direction he ran off towards, connections clicking in your head as you see Ann get in the car you both knew well as Kamoshida’s. Oh boy. You sigh. You had asked Ann on multiple occasions about Kamoshida, and if there was anything you could do to help, but she had refused countless times, saying she could handle it on her own, making you promise not to tell Shiho. This didn’t stop you from making up and excuse whenever you would see her being harassed in the school hallways, your method of “girl related things” or “family emergencies” more effective than Ryuji’s that tended to be on the aggressive side. As angry as you are at Kamoshita, the both of you needed to stay on campus; if passive aggressive words were all you could fight with, then so be it.

You jog after Ryuji, careful not to slip in your sneakers against the tiled floor as the car drives off before he could reach it. He passes by another student that seems to be seeking shelter from the rain, his hair and glasses already covering half of his face.

“Dammit...screw that pervy teacher.” Ryuji mutters as he slows to a stop. You follow not too far behind, bringing the umbrella up over his head again, slightly winded. Man, you hated exercise…

“Pervy teacher..?” The student mumbles, gaining the attention of the two of you.

“...What do you want?” Ryuji snaps at the boy, a scowl forming on his face, his classic “vulgar” expression. “You plannin’ on rattin’ me out to Kamoshida?”

“Kamoshida?” The boy calmly asks, slightly confused, phone in his hand moving as he does so.

“Huh?” Ryuji blinks back, now confused. “In that car just now. That was Kamoshida.” Ryuji looks away in irritation. “He does whatever the hell he wants. Who does he think he is--the king of a castle? Don’t you agree?”

“Which castle?” the boy inquires, bringing a chuckle out of you.

“Uh, it’s just a sayin’...” Ryuji trails off as you can’t help but chuckle some more. He pauses for a few seconds before speaking again. “...Wait, you don’t know Kamoshida?” he scoffs, scrutinizing the boy. “Are you for real? You’re from Shujin, right?”

“I think so.” the boy nods.

Hm… “Are you a transfer student?” you ask, peering silently at the boy. He nods as you zone in on his uniform coat. More specifically the ‘2’ on his collar. “Oh, you’re a second year too.”

Ryuji chuckles darkly. “Then no wonder you don’t know him.” You check your phone before notioning your head in the direction of the school.

“As great as this introduction is,” you drawl out sarcastically. “We should get going, I don’t want to be late.”

Ryuji lets out a huff of laughter before turning back to the boy. “This rain ain’t too bad. We better hurry up or we’ll be late.”

You all take a step to move before a wave of pain flashes against you. “Ngh!” You cry out, almost dropping your umbrella. It seems the boy and Ryuji had felt it too, hands both on their heads. You feel light-headed as Ryuji speaks.

“Are you okay?” he asks as you nod slowly. You ask him the same. “Yeah, I’m fine, my head just hurts.. Dammit… I wanna go home.” Ryuji sighs as you keep walking, the boy following silently a few steps behind you.

-------

You make your way through the backstreet shortcut you and Ryuji knew well, the walkways casted in a purple hue that was different that what you usually saw. Maybe it had something to do with that sudden head pain earlier…? You hoped the light-headedness you had felt wasn’t involved with it. You follow by Ryuji, stopping firmly in your tracks as you both gape in disbelief at what was supposed to be the school that was currently in front of you.

A giant castle stands tall in front of you, the skies and clouds around in casted in the same murky purple you had saw on the walk over.

“Um…?” you mumble, confused.

“We didn’t… come the wrong way though…” Ryuji speaks, looking behind him, the boy joining him. “Yeah, this should be right.” you all see the school sign in front.

“What’s going on here? I guess we’ll just have to go and ask.” Ryuji walks ahead as the boy follows him, you still stuck in place.

“I don’t have a good feeling about this… At all.” You state, taking tentative steps behind them as you follow, closing your umbrella.

-----

“Th-That’s weird… Where’s the school…?” Ryuji trails off.

“Did we make a wrong turn?” The boy pipes up.

“No,” You say firmly. “We didn’t. And there’s never been a castle in this town, this just doesn’t make sense.” You bring your arms around you. “Where are we?”

Ryuji pulls out his phone, his eyes widen. “Out of service..?” He puts it in his pocket. “The sign was for the school, right?” You nod. The boy vocalizes his agreement. “Right?! You saw it too!”

A sudden armored figure appears in front of you all, a creepy blue mask as it’s face, wielding a sword and a worn shield just as big as it. You take a step back.

“Geez, you scared me…” Ryuji mutters. “Who’re you? You a student?” Ryuji takes a few steps closer to the silent figure. “Ryuji…” you caution as he waves you off. “Man, your costume’s impressive… Is that armor real?”

The figure still doesn’t respond, moving up and down slightly as it stares down at all of you. Ryuji crosses his arms and leans on one leg. “C’mon, don’t just stand there. Say somethin’.”

“Ryuji.” you say more firmly, taking his arm as another one approaches you. “I think we should go.”

“...H-Hey, what;s goin’ on?” Ryuji questions.

“Is he school staff?” The boy asks. You turn to him with an exasperated sigh. “If they were, they would’ve said something already, don’t you think?”

“...This shit’s real.” Ryuji frowns. “We better run. Go!”

“Got it.” The boy nods.

You all break for the exit to no avail, more knights surrounding you.

“Ugh, what’s with these guys!?” Ryuji exclaims before he’s hit in the back by one of the knights. “Oww… Y-You’re gonna break my bones, dammit! The hell you think you’re--Aagh!”

“Ryuji!” you try to make your way to him before another knight does the same to you, the breath knocked out of you as you fall forward.

“Take them away!” you hear one of the knights say as your surroundings go black.

[bahboh1004]

Lessa 3 ch 29 Succession

Why are the bad guys so cool looking...

bonus cuteness with silver goat and golden eagle~

https://comic.naver.com/webtoon/detail.nhn?titleId=603159&no=141

1.     a. About the original owner of your throne. ‘The King of the Moon.’        s. soars     b. About ‘The Firstborn.’ 2.     a. That the memories ‘Ra’ buried in the void,        s. Bang 3.     a. The cursed history,        s. Bang 4.     a. Has finally returned with ‘Ruin.’ 29:  Succession 5.        s. menace 6.        s. Menace 7.     a. Demans…?     b. Apostles? 8.     a. Ahahaha!!     b. What’s with that blank look. 9.     a. You certainly played a part in the making of these ones.     b. Look. these ruined ones are half ‘believers’ 10.     a. You tarnished ‘Ra’s humankind        s. wince     b. And I simply gave them new souls. 11.     a. Goat.     b. If you think about it. That’s not our fault. Right?        s. Slip     c. If humankind had not been made so hideously from the beginning, this wouldn’t have happened. 12.     a. Do you know     b. what it is that humankind fears the most? 13.     a. When darkness falls on the world        s. Crashing waves     b. The world falls into chaos, and it seems the path is lost. 14.     a. But that’s not the case. Within the darkness, events arise with a certain will.        s. Crowd noise     b. It’s the apocalypse!!        s. Crowd noise     c. We welcome extraterrestrials! 15.     a. And they hope that darkness will hide their unsightliness.     b. What are you all doing!!     c. Take it! Take it all for now!     d. Piss off! In light of the apocalypse, the only debt I have is the price of your life! 16.     a. Everyone please stop this!!     b. What they truly fear is 17.     a. ! 18.     a. the ‘Light’ that illuminates their unsightliness within the darkness. 19.     a. The human heart can’t help but hide in the darkness.     b. That’s why they keep making devils. 20.     a. Unless permission is given, evil can not indwell. 21.     a. These ones were also born like that. 22.     a. Aren’t the things ‘Ra’ indebted himself for too vulgar and crude? 23.        s. squeeze 24.     a. …… 25.     a. O Ra.     b. If you have created this heart 26.     a. Can this world become a paradise…? 27.     a. Lessa. 28.     a. Perhaps for you this world is full of despair. 29.     a. Although You and I both love this world…     b. Why would it be full of despair for me…? 30.     a. Right…! I am weak!     b. By now everyone should be happy!     c. Why is it… 31.     a. How could it…     b. That child was everything…!     c. My world…! 32.     a. Lessa. 33.     a. I love that child as much as you. 34.     a. It hurt as much. 35.     a. Do you remember when we named the stars together.     b. A star for a single soul…     c. A light for a single soul…     d. I gave a star to all my children. 36.     a. And humans gave names to everything I made.     b. The name of that feeling is 37.     a. ‘Love’     b. This is the last story that I need to teach you. 38.     a. Lessa.     b. Continue to follow your heart. 39.     a. Just as there is a love that does not fade,     b. You cannot finish with just tears of pain. 40.     a. You know nothing of what this world was to that person…     b.  He even loved the lowly you. 41.     a. ?     b. Yes, and?     c. Isn’t that what makes it fun? 42.     a. It was the highest form of entertainment when the Almighty’s trust was shattered.        s. Hee hee hee     b. If that wasn’t the case, then there’s no point, right? 43.        s. boom     a. Luciel!! 44.        s. Rumble 45.     a. Ah ah-- stop stop.        s. holds     b. You guys don’t need to butt in. 46.     a. I will have to punish this rude goat.        s. grin 47. 48.        s. Rumble 49.     a. This is the limit.        s. Blaze 50.     a. And this is the time limit.        s. Flicker 51.        s. flakes     a. I have always fought alongside ‘Ra.’ 52.     a. Without Him, I am nothing.        s. Flakes 53.        s. whack     a. Ack 54.     a. You motherfxcker!!     b. If you swing that damn thing one more time, I’ll grind it into dust!!        s. grab     c. It really hurts like shit!!     d. Tsk tsk. How deplorable. 55.     a. Do you know what this is?        s. Slide     b. What’s there to know. It’s a crazy stick. 56.     a. This is the apostle spear granted by Lord ‘Ra,’ Lignum Vitae     b. The original Lignum Vitae was this world’s axis. He took a piece of the axis and made it into a spear. 57.     a. Through this I can deal with the giants that guard the world’s axis.     b.  You talking about that toilet paper roll giant? 58.     a. The apostles’ spears each have their role.     b. The spear itself represents the authority granted to the apostle. 59.     a. Right. You would not be anything without That Person.     b. However, That Person left the holy words to you,     c. And there is no doubt that you are ‘The Emissary of God.’ 60.     a. So perhaps you need it too. 61.     a. Rabiel        s. Tap     b. Am I late? 62.     a. Ah. You’ve come at the right time.     b. ?! 61.     a. So you’ve truly brought it, Mit.  **                TL note: I’m guessing this is a shortening of Mitzrael – מיצראל        s. booboom 62.     a. Yes. Though it has been heavily damaged after ‘that person’ died…     b. This is the great Mikael’s holy item, the spear of brilliance, ‘Kabod.’   **                TL note: **כבוד (glory)