#I gave you guys a big ol red circle so you could find him too. how nice of me

[putting-kinger-in-places]

put him in the octopod

Octopod, The Ocean

[lonely-lost-soul]

“I’m Not Soft.”

Request 5: Techno and the voices simping for the reader, maybe after reader gets in (and wins) a fight or something more domestic like farming or playing with Steve

Requested By: Anonymous 

(Technoblade X Female Reader)

~Added a little bit of spice~

Technoblade kicked the snow off his boots sending little flurries all inside the doorway of his cabin. He had just arrived home, he was coming home much later than he anticipated getting held up at a long-running syndicate meeting. He was greeted by the savory smell of baked potatoes and steak, it had him practically drooling. Techno wandered into the kitchen after hanging up his cloak by the door, his plate was sitting in the furnace. He peeked inside and saw it was set on low heat just to keep his food warm, he smiled softly. 

‘She’s so thoughtful. Keeping it warm for us. We should give her a kiss! Where even is she? Find her before you eat. You can sit together!’ 

Technoblade let out a soft hum of acknowledgment listening to the advice of the voices and searching for his lady love. He stepped into the living room and noticed the fire was roaring away in the fireplace, you were still here then, very early on he made sure you knew to put the fireplace out when you were finished in the room. He had a close call with Tommy when he was living here, and since then he made sure to remind you constantly about the fireplace. He spotted you and Steve curled up next to one another by the said fireplace, you were buried in his white fur and he was snoring away loudly beside you. A book was in your lap and you were wearing one of his shirts as a pajama top, socks with little bears on them adorned your feet. 

‘Oh my god, they’re so cute together. Take a picture! Take a picture! She looks so peaceful…’

Technoblade smiled gently making sure he did end up snapping a picture, just so he could tease you about it later. Plus you were adorable and you snuggling with Steve really melted his frozen heart, 

‘SIMP!’ 

     “You guys are doing the same thing shut up.” He growled under his breath finally walking over to you, Steve cracked his eyes open and let out a low snarl before comprehending who stood in front of him. Once he recognized The Blade he let out a disgruntled huff before falling back asleep, his movement caused you to stir. Technoblade watched as you rub the sleep from your eyes, before running your hands through your messy hair. “Morning Princess,” He cooed squatting down beside you. You blinked blearily at him for a moment before a smile lit up your face, you moved quickly wrapping your arms around his shoulders. He couldn’t help but smile in response to the hug, his hands were placed on his lower back as he squeezed.

‘So small and cute. Just like a little kitten.~ Can you give her a kiss now? I’m tired of asking for a kiss just do it. Stop making him sound like a simp. Wait look she’s pulling away-’

You pressed a kiss to his lips murmuring a weak, ‘welcome home Protesilaus.’ He shivered a little at the use of his Greek title and gave you a kiss back. 

     “Did you make me dinner?” You hummed nodded your head sleepily, “You spoil me, Princess.” He cupped your cheek with his hand and you nuzzled into it, you looked blissful. 

     “Only cause you deserve it, big guy. Want me to sit with you while you eat.” 

     “If you’re up for it.” Another kiss was pressed against the side of his lips and he purred fondly. You giggled a little and he flushed darkly, “Don’t laugh at me that’s cringe.”

     “Not laughing at you, I just love it when you purr. You’re like a big lion, who’s only soft for me.” He scoffed with an eye roll, 

     “I’m soft to no one.” 

     “Sure you’re not Tech.” You gently pat his cheek before standing up and cracking your back, Technoblade stood up beside you. The both of you walked into the kitchen, you sat at the table while he grabbed his meal. He dug in and his eyes fluttered, 

     “This is so good, god I’m so glad you’re my girlfriend.” 

     “Just for the cooking?” You teased fluttering your eyes at him and he looked thoughtful for a moment, 

     “Well, that and the great se-” You let out an indignant sound interrupting his sentence you went so red it even spread to your ears. Technoblade laughed loudly, “You’re so adorable when you’re flustered,” a smirk spread across his lips. 

‘We got her. Oh my god, she’s so cute. Awwww she’s embarrassed what a sweetheart. You should pinch her cheeks. Show her what we mean- DON’T BE GROSS. He was gross first though!’

     “You’re a terror,” You scoffed fanning your hot face with your hand trying to cool yourself down. 

     “Exactly and don’t you forget it, Princess.” He had a soft pink flush across his cheeks as you flipped him off, “Maybe later.”

     “Techno!” You squawked as he roared with laugher, “What is with you tonight!?”

     “I just missed you. I’ve been away from you all day can you blame me?”

     “I suppose not…” You trailed off smiling softly over at him and he smiled right back at you. “I’m going to head to bed, you coming or what?”

     “I’m right behind you.” He hummed placing his plate in the sink before following you up the stairs. 

The next morning was dedicated solely to you, not only because Technoblade wanted to but also because the voices just wanted to stay close to you. Your head was tightly tucked underneath his chin as he watched you sleep. The rise and fall of your chest was hypnotic and he placed his hand on your chest feeling your heartbeat flutter against his hand. He smiled watching you wake up for a second time with a sweet yawn, he kissed your nose as you regained consciousness. You snickered softly giving him a kiss right back, “Morning Techno.” 

     “Morning Princess,” He greeted, “I was wondering if you wanted to walk Steve with me today.”  

     “I’d love nothing more,” you smiled warmly “on one condition.”

     “And that would be?” Technoblade raised an eyebrow, his hand gently stroking your hip. 

      “I get to wear your cape.” His face scrunched up with disgust, 

      “My cape is sacred, you know this.”

      “I promise I’ll take really good care of it. Please for your wonderful and stunning girlfriend.” 

      “Eh?” He muttered as you batted your eyelashes at him, and despite his original distaste the voices melted seeing your face. 

‘She’s so cute. Adorable, look at those big ole eyes. Tell her she’s cute! Love of our life truly. She’s a teasing little shit ain’t she? Let her wear the cape, what's the harm?’

       “Cringe,” Technoblade said instead and the voices groaned loudly in his ears, he watched your face settle into a pout. He clicked his tongue annoyed at your pout, “come or don’t either way I gotta walk Steve- oof-“ Technoblade grunted as you sat down on his hips glaring at him. 

      “Give me the cape now.” You glared into his eyes, hands gripping onto his shoulders, his eyes lit up with amusement. 

     “Oh, you taking charge here Princess? I don’t mind if you think you can handle me.” The voices and he relished in the way your entire face turned red and you rested your forehead on his neck. 

    “You’re impossible but I’m still taking your fucking cape cringe-lord.”

     “Nerd.” He mused with a fond kiss to your lips, “but fine. I suppose you can borrow it.” Technoblade relented with a small smile, as your entire face lit up like the sun. 

‘Worth it. That smile! Be still my heart! She’s going to look so adorable. Trust us Techno you made the correct choice.’

He rolled his eyes and watched you tilt your head to the side, “The voices?” Technoblade gave a little nod. 

      “They’re being stupid.”

‘STUPID! FUCK OFF! WE’RE HELPING YOU SCORE!’

      “What’re they saying?” 

Sweat gathered on Technoblade’s brow, well now he couldn’t say they were complimenting you. He’d look like such an asshole. 

        “Nothing important.” He tried to cover himself up quickly and you gave a little smirk of your own. “Shut up don’t-“

       “Aw, do they like me?~” You cooed pinching the man’s cheek. “I love them too, they’re a part of you after all.” Now it was Technoblade’s turn to flush red all over if the voices weren’t gushing before they were now. 

‘Kiss her oh my god kiss her. We love her too! Tell her that right now! She needs to know! Bark bark bark bark! Everyone here is a simp. I’m the only one with a brain cell. Technooooooo tell her pleaaaaaseeeee.’

      “They Ugh...they want me to tell you they love you too.” He watched you smile again, “they also want me to give you a kiss.”

       “Well tell them I accept their kiss.”

       “Oh, they know sweetheart believe me.” He leaned forward to capture your lips, he felt you sigh pleasantly against them. His hands moved down to rest on your hips, rubbing gentle circles on them. He tilted his head to deepen the kiss but you pulled away from him, he let out a growl of disagreement. 

        “Oh hush up you grump. We have to feed the bears and dogs, plus if we’re walking Steve we need to get going.” 

       “Tease.” He grunted as you whacked him on the chest, before hopping off his lap to get dressed. He followed you out of bed, as the both of you got ready for the day ahead. You finished before Techno and slid down the ladders to whip up a quick breakfast and feed Steve. By the time Technoblade came downstairs, Steve was happily chowing away and you handed Technoblade two slices of bread. He gave you a quick kiss on the side of his head before shoveling the food into his mouth, he heard you giggle and he raised an eyebrow. “What’re you laughing at exactly?”

     “You’re eating like Steve,” Technoblade made an indignant sound of protest which only caused you to laugh harder. Sometimes he genuinely wondered how he put up with you but then he remembered he loved you and wouldn’t trade you for the world. He only rolled his eyes at you before grabbing Steve’s designated leash and hooking him up to it, the bear let out a huff and his little stub of a tail began to wiggle. “Someone’s excited,” You cooed at the bear scratching under his chin, “My big ole sweetheart.”

     “(Y/n) he’s supposed to be a killing machine please don’t coddle him.”

     “Oh fuck off Techno. Look at his face!” You squished the bear’s cheeks between your hands, “he wouldn’t hurt a fly!” The bear rumbled loudly in his throat but it was more of a pleasant sound than a threatening one. Technoblade raised an eyebrow at the antics before him, 

     “Leave our guard bear alone and go put on your boots.” You huffed but ultimately decided not to be a brat and listen to your boyfriend for once, you stood beside the door as Steve and he wandered up towards you. An eyebrow was raised and he looked you up and down, 

     “What?”

     “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

He watched you slowly blink before patting the sides of your winter jacket, and he chuckled deeply. He took off his cape and draped it across your shoulders, your face lit up and you snuggled into the fluff. It flowed behind you much more than it did when Technoblade wore it, it was swallowing you up. 

‘She’s so precious! We were correct, good job Techno. Such a good, sweet girl. We’re protecting her from the harsh elements! True! You don’t want her to get sick do you?’

Technoblade snapped out of his thoughts as he felt a soft kiss against the side of his cheek, “Thank you Tech, you made my morning.”

     “Anything for you.”

‘We’d kill for her you know. If anyone even looks at her wrong we’ll tear them apart. Guys, could you lighten up a little? Sheesh. Never she’s our stability.’

     “Shall we?” He held out his arm and you wrapped your hand around it snuggling against his side, he really was down bad for you. The both of you stepped out it was a beautiful sunny day the wind only a gentle chill, Techno grunted as Steve eagerly pulled him forward. He heard you laugh as he stumbled down the steps, he shot you a glare over his shoulder and you flipped him off. 

‘Hot.’ 

Technoblade’s face scrunched up in disbelief, “what the hell chat…” he muttered but the heat he felt in his cheeks showed he agreed with the voices. Once again at his side the two of you walked in the direction of Snow Chester, once you both came to the shoreline Technoblade turned towards you. “Would you like to visit L’manhole someday day soon?”

     “Like you even have to ask me that. I’d love to see the damage you caused.”

‘Our little anarchist in training.~ I for one, Can’t wait for her to join the Syndicate. We don’t want her to remember, we want to protect her. Exactly, her joining could put her at risk.’

     “Then we’ll go soon I promise.” 

     “I look forward to it big guy,” You cooed, pressing a feather-light kiss to his lips that sent electricity down to the tips of his toes. He tilted his head deepening the kiss slightly, his hand cupping your cheek, it was so small in his hand. He loved hearing the soft whimper you made against his lips as his tongue slipped into your mouth but the moment was shattered as he heard Steve let out a low warning growl. He rapidly pulled away and shoved you behind his back, he came face to face with BadBoyHalo, the egg cult leader himself. “Is that BBH?” 

     “Looks like it,” Techno muttered as you slipped out from behind him, the demon was in his smaller form and he waved enthusiastically. “Careful Princess,” Techno murmured hesitantly, watching him skip over, “remember the egg.” 

     “I got this Tech, no worries. I’ll be back in a moment alright.” You met Bad halfway and Technoblade shuffled uncomfortably. 

‘Don’t let her go. He’s gonna hurt her. Keep a steady eye. She’s not fragile but eavesdrop just in case. Be careful, and keep alert. Blood for the Blood God. Not yet shut up.’ 

Technoblade clicked his tongue but did eavesdrop on their conversation allowing Steve to sniff at the ground nearby for bugs.

     “(Y/n) my little muffin! How’re you doing?” 

     “I’m doing good Bad! I haven’t seen you in a while, how're you doing? Still doing egg stuff?”

     “Of course silly! That’s why I wanted to visit you.” He grabbed your hands, “I need your help.” He grazed his claws across the back of your hands, Techno watched you raise a suspicious eyebrow. 

‘That’s my girl. Always being suspicious and alert.’ He mentally praised, and the voice agreed with his though,

     “And that help would be what exactly?”

     “You need to convince Techno to give the egg a second chance!” You stared at him blankly and Technoblade tried not to laugh. 

     “Bad, you’re one of my good friends but I fucking hate the egg too.” His smile faltered a little bit and Technoblade’s hand went to the sword on his hip. Bad’s smile quickly returned and cupped your cheeks,

     “Language dear.” He scolded his smile turning strained, “this just means I need to introduce you to the egg silly! It’s going to love you,” 

     “Bad No.” He began to squeeze your face, nails digging into the flesh of your cheeks. Your eyes flashed with fear and Technoblade was about to step forward and intervene but skidded to a halt as he watched you knee Bad in the stomach. Technoblade’s jaw fell open, as you grabbed Bad’s arm as he bent over in pain and flipped him over your shoulder slamming his back into the snow and dirt. Bad let out a pained sound, but all Technoblade could focus on was the way his cape flew to the side with a flourish as you recovered. Your hair stuck to your cheeks as you glowered at the demon, “Don’t touch me.” You stood up, looking more regal than Techno’s ever seen you look, “Go home Bad, and don’t come back till you’ve sorted yourself out. This egg thing has really fucked with your head.” You walked back over towards Techno and smirked at him the fire in your eyes still burning bright. You brought a hand towards his face and you closed Technoblade’s jaw with your finger, “You’re going to catch flies babe.” His jaw snapped shut as you winked at him, you took Steve from his hand and began to walk away. 

‘Damn the cape’s covering her ass. THAT’S WHAT YOU’RE FOCUSING ON?! SHE JUST FLIPPED BADBOYHALO LIKE HE WAS A SACK OF POTATOES! NO FUCKS GIVEN! Stop screaming you’re too loud. Get me a woman who can flip me like that. God, I love strong women. Techno go make out with her right now don’t let her get away with that! We made the right choice with her, maybe she should join the Syndicate. Yeah but then seeing this side wouldn’t be as special-’

     “Tech you coming?” You called over your shoulder, 

‘Yes ma’am. Anything for you. Such a tease.’

He said nothing but followed in your footsteps, hands twitching at his sides, desperately trying to ignore the way the voices purred and begged for him to make out with you right here in the snow. 

As soon as you removed the collar from around Steve’s neck, and hung it back in it’s place by the door Technoblade pushed you up against the wall. You gave a squeak in surprise that he absolutely relished in, maybe he was a little bit of a sadist. His cape fell from your shoulders with a soft clatter as he roughly pressed his lips to yours, he watched your eyes droop closed before closing his eyes as well. “That was the hottest thing we’ve ever fucking seen,” He growled against your lips hoisting you up so that your legs wrapped around his waist. 

     “We?” You said breathlessly as his kisses moved from your lips and down to your neck, 

     “The voices.” He nipped at the skin between your shoulder and neck, enjoying the way your breath hitched in your throat. 

     “Oh,” was all you managed to get out letting your head fall back against the wall with a soft thump. Techno snickered against the burning skin on your neck, you whined a little before meekly murmuring, “Don’t stop. Please Technoblade.” 

‘Well, you heard the little lady. Don’t stop Technoblade. Make her beg some more first. Agreed, that’s what she gets for teasing us after all. Give the girl what she wants already. Who are we to deny her when she looks like that? We live to please one person and that’s her.’

Technoblade panted softly, throughout his life he was never one to deny giving the voices what they wanted. Especially when that something was you.  

[dreaming-of-assclass]

AssClass Christmas Fics: Part 1

Group 1 + gift-shopping 🎁

In which Kataoka is tired, Isogai is stressed, Maehara is a wholesome idiot, and Okano and Kimura are the embodiment of chaos.

Genre: Fluff, Humor, Wholesomeness, Slight angst on Isogai’s part

Length: 3,133 words

..................

—————

In hindsight, Megu should’ve known better than to come.

It had seemed innocent at first when Maehara brought the idea up in their groupchat. He wanted all his closest friends to band together and take a trip to the mall for “some good ol’ Christmas gift-shopping.” He said it wasn’t likely they’d get to hang out all together until after winter break. Ok, fair point.

But now, as she sat exhaustedly in the dressing room of some teen store, surrounded by heaps of clothing, she realized she’d made a mistake.

“Hinano, please tell me this is the last one you’re trying on,” Megu begged as she reached for another garment. “We’ve been here for at least an hour and a half.”

“Mmm...I just have to find a matching pair of shorts,” Hinano hummed, at least looking somewhat apologetic. She gave Megu a wink. “After this, we’ll be all done!”

And with that, the smaller girl dashed off, probably in search of one of the store workers.

Megu groaned, giving a pitiful glance at the bag sitting besides her. She’d purchased one outfit, a matching belt, and a set of earrings already...while her friend was still not even close to being done.

“Might as well check what everyone else is doing.” Megu pulled out her phone and texted their groupchat. 

Kataoka: Where are you guys?

She got a reply a moment later.

Maehara: me n isogai r grabbing smth to eat rn

Maehara: but we’re gonna go to some store after

Ah...probably to get some gifts for Isogai’s siblings, Megu remembered fondly. 

“Oh, Megu, she’s still not done yet?” She snapped up to see a somewhat flustered Touka making her way into the dressing room.

The class rep sighed with a tired smile, setting her phone down. She shifted a bit to make room for the other girl. “No, not yet...did you get what you were looking for?”

Touka nodded excitedly, pulling out her gift bag. It was very small and plain-looking, nude with only a red ribbon tied around. She handed it to Megu, a shine in her eyes. “Yes. It’s perfect, exactly what we were going for.”

Megu opened up the bag and reached for the item inside. It was small yet carried weight, and was surrounded by fancy parchment paper. She delicately opened it, careful not to rip anything. “Oh,” she breathed. Touka was certainly right.

It was perfect.

Nestled within the folds of parchment paper was a lovely ornament, shaped like a rose and made of dazzling stained glass. A thousand colors reflected off of it as she gently held it up in the light of the store. 

Touka smiled softly, leaning into her seat. “I thought a rose would be fitting after, y’know, Karasuma-sensei’s love declaration in October,” she laughed. 

“True.” Megu laughed as she carefully set the gift down back into the bag. “No but really, I can’t imagine anything better than this for her. She loves roses and it’s sophisticated, but still...can remind her of our class.”

She patted Touka’s shoulder, her gaze soft. “We made such a good decision entrusting her Christmas gift to be picked out by you.”

Oddly, Touka’s face turned a bright hue of red and she glanced away, clearing her throat. “It’s no problem! I’m happy that I picked something okay.”

Before Megu could question her, their third companion came back in a flurry of more clothing. A pair of pants flew and knocked against Megu’s face, and she wiped it away tiredly. “Hina! You said one more thing!”

Hinano was already turned towards the changing stall, struggling to carry her massive load. “I know, I know, I’m sorry! But they have a sale!”

“Still-!”

“Wait, really?” Touka shot up, her eyes bright. “I gotta go look for some stuff too!” Within seconds, she was dashing towards the racks of clothing in the store, right into the massive crowds of people already scavenging for good sales.

Oh boy. Megu mentally prepared herself for a moment before following her. Might as well take advantage of the sales too, she thought wryly. She had been looking for a new pair of boots lately...

.................

__________

“Yo, how about this one?” Hiroto asked, wriggling his eyebrows and holding up a video game-themed hoody jacket. It was child-sized and looked incredibly tiny against his large frame.

Yuuma looked in his direction, still combing through a rack of items himself. “Cute.” He grinned.

He reached over and touched the material thoughtfully. “Quality seems pretty good too. It’ll last him a while.”

“Yeah!” Hiroto agreed. “It’s super cozy, and will help him a lot in winter.”

“Okay, we can put this in the cart.”

Hiroto obliged and the two boys moved on from the clothing area. “Nothing else?” He questioned, giving a passing glance to aisles around them.

Yuuma hummed. “Well, we got a pajama set for both of them...a dress...two pairs of shoes, and now this hoodie. I’d like to get more but it’s Christmas, right? They’d probably like some new toys, not a ton of clothes.” He laughed.

“Ah, true.” Hiroto pushed the cart towards the toy section, following his best friend’s steady pace. This part of the store was incredibly hectic, and the sound of children’s cries and laughs filled it endlessly. Stressed parents flew around, trying to find the perfect toys. Boxes were everywhere, and it was very much a mess.

He barely caught Yuuma’s wince. As someone who also worked in a service industry, around Christmas time no less, Yuuma was probably sympathizing with the store clerks who’d be tasked to clean up.

They reached a random aisle that ended up holding all the lego sets. “I should get a couple of these,” Yuuma mused, looking around. “They love Legos, especially the bigger sets.”

“Uh huh...” Hiroto grasped his chin in thought, leaning his forearms onto the cart handle. “What about this?” He reached over and grabbed the box set. 

Yuuma leaned over to see it. “A firetruck and station,” he read. “589 pieces.” He smiled, looking up at Hiroto. “Perfect. Let’s grab it.”

“Awesome.” Hiroto was glad he was some kind of help. He knew this time of year was always incredibly stressful for his best friend, who not only had to study but work at the same time. And Yuuma would always buy his family some type of presents, so there was that added financial stress...

Not to mention...

Yuuma would never outright say it, but Hiroto knew that his father was on his mind even more than usual during the Holiday season, a time that places so much emphasis on family. 

The thought made his chest tighten. Hiroto always swore to himself that he’d help Yuuma and his family to the best of his ability, and it went tenfold during this goddamn month. 

The two looked some more before coming up with a few more toys. There was a science kit for his younger brother, and some new race cars. And a babydoll and a slime-making box for his little sister. The two kids would share the Lego set, and their older brother would help them build it.

“Now we just need to swing by over there,” Yuuma told him, gesturing to the side of the store where mainly women’s products were. Things like fancy soap, candles, etc. 

It was definitely a gift for his mom.

“Sure.” They made their way over, Hiroto still pushing the cart. “Hey, Isogai...” The name slipped uncomfortably from his tongue, leaving a taste of unfamiliarity. 

“Yeah?” Yuuma asked, looking through some house decorations. Hiroto took a short breath.

“Your family will love and appreciate whatever you get for them. It’s always the thought that counts, and that’s like...times ten with you. You’re a really good son and big brother, and that alone means so much to them probably.”

There was a pause.

“So please don’t stress yourself out, looking “for the perfect gift,” Hiroto added quickly. “They love you so much...”

Well, so much for nice encouragement. He just blurted out everything.

The sound of gentle laughter rang out, and he glanced up to see Yuuma looking back at him. His best friend’s eyes crinkled in a charming way as he spoke.

“Thanks, Hiroto...I couldn’t have gone through all this without you.” He ran a hand through his mop of dark hair. “And I don’t just mean this past month...thanks for being my best friend.”

He continued. “It’s when you say stuff like that...that brings me back down to Earth,” Yuuma admitted. “And I can actually...relax, even for just a little bit.”

Oh...

Hiroto coughed lightly, before beaming at him. “Well, duh~what are best friends for?” He winked. “I’ve always got your back.”

“Same here,” Yuuma replied, his gaze soft. 

His phone buzzed and he pulled it out, brows furrowing slightly. “Ah, Yada texted.”

Yada: help megu almost fought some girl over a pair of tights on sale

Maehara: LMFAOOOOOO well did she win?

Yada: ya of course

Kataoka: - _ - she deserved it

Isogai: Haha

Kataoka: also sorry to interrupt but

Kataoka: where the hell are okano and kimura????

.................

_________

“I can’t believe you actually had a good idea for once,” Okano muttered, the blue light from the game reflected in her fierce gaze. “Coming to the mall arcade instead of doing some boring shopping.”

“Yeah, well, at least one of us used our brain cell today,” Kimura shot back, his thumbs moving rapidly. “If it was up to you, we’d still be circling around the penny fountain.”

Okano snorted. “Shut up.” She picked up the pace on the controllers, feeling a familiar drive to win piling up inside of her. 

Ten seconds later, “You lose!” was flashing at her on the screen while Kimura jumped up, throwing his arms up in victory. “Aw, hell yeah!”

“Fuck!” Okano hissed. “One more time!” She demanded, turning towards him.

Kimura smirked, calming down. “No thanks, I’m getting bored of this one now,” he replied nonchalantly.

Okano rolled her eyes. “Fine.” She looked around at the arcade interior, her gaze scanning around for anything that seemed interesting. 

“Oh! I love that game!” She exclaimed, gesturing to an iceball set up. “Come on!”

“Sure!” Kimura followed her towards the machine, seeing nothing else to do. “I bet I’ll win~” He sang smugly.

“You wish,” Okano scoffed, choosing the one on the left while he moved to the right. She inserted the proper number of tokens before smiling satisfied at the way the machine lit up. “I’m a beast at this game. Maehara can tell you himself how I literally destroyed everyone at this last summer.”

Kimura did the same and they both waited for the number of balls to roll down towards them. “Huh. We’ll see about that.”

“Just shut up and play already.” She had already thrown her first ball, smirking at how it fell into an 100 point slot. “Ha!”

“Lucky shot,” Kimura mumbled, tossing his first one. It fell into the Zero slot, much to his disappointment. “Shit...”

Thankfully, Okano didn’t pay attention. She was much too preoccupied with tossing her own balls, which all landed in the 100 or 250 slots. 

Kimura picked up the pace and continued his game. He groaned as all of them fell into the 10 point slots. The number of tickets coming out on his end was nothing compared to Okano’s long chain. Well...maybe my pitching is shit after all, like Sugino said. I should fix this...

“Done!” Okano shouted, throwing her last ball that fell into the 100 slot. She grinned at her list of tickets before looking over at him. “What’d I tell you, huh?” 

Kimura rolled his eyes, grabbing his final ball. Gritting his teeth, he tossed it with a carefull turn of his wrist. He watched in anticipation as the ball glided over all the slots...before falling right into the 5000 slot.

“Oh shit!”

“Woah!” Okano yelled, her eyes wide. “Oh my god, Kimura! You got the highest number!”

“I did!” He shouted back, somewhat in a daze. 

“That’s amazing!”

For a moment, it was like they weren’t rivals. Just a moment though.

Okano punched his shoulder, her lips curved. “Beginner’s luck,” she teased, but the fire never left her eyes.

Kimura laughed before his gaze fell back on his tickets. “Ah...it’s taking a while, isn’t it?”

Okano looked at it with a frown, pursing her lips. “It shouldn’t be.”

“Let’s give it another minute,” he suggested.

Five minutes later, Kimura felt like screaming. “My major accomplishment!” He sighed dramatically. “And no one was around to see it but you!”

Okano rolled her eyes, hopping off the floor where they’d been crouching. “Get up. Let’s go find a staff member.”

“Yeah...” Kimura stood up, shoving his hands into his hoodie pocket. “Uh hello? What are you staring at?” He questioned.

No answer, as Okano looked thoughtfully at the game machine. “Earth to Okano~” He sang, waving a hand in her face.

Then she did it.

Something he hadn’t expected, but really it shouldn’t have even surprised him.

Okano swung her leg out before letting it collide against the machine’s ticket base. A booming thud rang out.

And almost immediately, tickets began streaming out. 

Kimura’s jaw dropped.

“There, it’s all fixed,” Okano smiled with a shrug.

“Are you crazy?” The words escaped his mouth instantly. “You pulled out some assassin moves just to fix a ticket machine?!”

“Well yeah~You can get your tickets now!”

“How did you even know that would work?! And doesn’t your foot hurt like hell?”

Okano laughed. “Honestly, I had no idea if it would work. But it did!” She glanced at her foot. “And it doesn’t hurt. That part of the machine is pretty hollow, and my foot has hit harder things so...”

Kimura frowned at her.

“I promise it’s fine!” Okano held her hands up. “Woah...look at your tickets! I think you can get a stuffed animal with this number!”

“Yeah maybe-” Kimura was cut off by a stern voice barking at them.

“Hey! You kids!”

They both jolted up as one of the mall security guards stormed towards them, followed by as pissed-off arcade worker, who pointed at them. “Those kids broke the machine to steal extra tickets!”

Kimura felt his mouth go dry. Still he tried to shout, “Wait no! It’s a misunderstanding, I got 5000! But it got stuck-”

And then he was cut off by Okano yanking his arm away with a strength he could only imagine having. The next few seconds felt like a blur and before he knew it, the two of them were running in the lobby of the mall.

“Come on, you idiot! You’re the fastest runner in the class, act like it!” Okano yelled, purposely agitating him. Still, Kimura fell for it and his speed increased immensely in just a second. Now, Okano was trying to catch up to him. 

Kimura dashed through the numbers of people walking by, being mindful to dodge anyone, especially the elderly or some children... He shouted out a “Sorry!” and an “Excuse me!” as he moved.

It sounded odd but he could hear Okano’s footsteps behind him, even amongst the clusters of normal civilians. Probably from all the times they trained together. Her steps were light and bouncy, barely touching the floor as she kept a stable balance. He always thought to himself how Okano moved like she could walk on air.

He made a sharp turn around a mall corner, narrowly avoiding a collision with three girls just trying to walk by. “Ah, I’m so sorry!”

“What the hell- wait...Kimura?” One of the girls breathed.

Kimura’s head snapped up at the familiar tone and he realized in horror who the girls were. “Kataoka! Yada! Kurahashi!” He laughed sheepishly. “How’s your shopping going?”

“Fine~!” Kurahashi chirped, somehow balancing five huge bags on one of her arms alone.

Kimura smiled at her. “That’s good...” He laughed nervously again. “Well, I should continue on my way-”

Kataoka leveled him a sharp glare, leaning in closer. “What do you think you’re doing, running around the mall like a maniac? And where’s Hinata?!”

“Uhm...”

“There you are!” All four of them jolted, looking up to see the security guard. Standing right beside him was a very annoyed-looking Okano, crossing her arms. Ah, so she got caught...

“I’m gonna need you to come to our office,” the guard spoke sternly, looking straight at Kimura. 

He sighed, stepping forward to comply before passing a pleading glance to the girls. Kurahashi frowned, Yada sighed, and Kataoka shut her eyes irritably. Then she spoke. “Officer...we’re friends with them, so we’ll come along too, if that’s okay.”

“Alright then.”

The girls followed them warily and Kataoka leaned in to whisper to Yada. “I hope your negotiating skills will come in handy now...”

..............

________

“Oh man,” Maehara wheezed, clutching his stomach. “Banned from the mall for a month?!” He burst out laughing again.

“Yeah...” Kimura’s head was dropped into his arms, which rested on the table of the cafe they were at.

“I’m glad you find this act of immaturity so funny,” Kataoka commented dryly, taking another sip of her latte. The liquid scorched her throat a bit, but she needed the caffeine at that moment. 

“Actually, I find it hilarious,” Maehara corrected. “Seriously, how did all that even happen? Why’d you run away?”

“I’d like to know too,” Isogai chimed in tiredly.

“Uh, haven’t you heard of fleeing from the scene of a crime?” Okano snapped, but it lacked its usual bite as she reached over for her hot chocolate.

“That only works if you can’t get caught,” Yada pointed out with a giggle, adjusting her scarf.

“Aw man,” Maehara chuckled, toning it down at the sight of Okano’s pout. “It’s okay guys. We’ll laugh about this in the future.”

“You’re laughing about it now,” Kataoka muttered sourly.

Maehara ignored her. “One day, we’ll look back on this as a super fond memory,” he said confidently, throwing an arm around Kimura.

“Not to mention, it was pretty cool how you used your kick, Hina!” Kurahashi chimed in, hugging her.

“Yeah, pretty badass,” Isogai agreed, flashing her a smile.

Okano’s lips curved up. “Thanks, guys...”

“I guess the whole thing was pretty ridiculous,” Kimura said. “Sorry for stressing you out, Kataoka...”

She waved him off but her gaze softened. “Just don’t let this happen ever again.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Maehara clasped his heads behind his head. “Ah, by the way, I’m gonna have to leave sooner than I thought.”

Yada squinted at him. “...Why?”

“Well, there’s this Christmas event at another store where they need a guy in a Santa costume...and you know...the elves are all pretty girls, so I gotta help them out-”

All his friends let out a collective groan. 

[weeklyfangirl]

Frat Boy Pt. 18

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7 (1), part 7 (2), part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 12, part 13 , part 14, part 15, part 16, part 17

NOT having to wait a year for another update?! WHO AM I?!?!! A new woman I tell you. Fortunately (or not) Frat Harry’s the same ‘ol Frat Harry. And this time you let him into your life a little more. But will he stay? Enjoy loves, lemme know what you think ;) 

“So turns out Mike’s bottle of tequila was $350 and John and I had already dank all of it. When Mike told us how much it was, we just had to be the full dicks. You start apologizing at block parties and you lose your edge. Stuff is borderline evaporative!” Father looked around at our unimpressed faces and his red face grew darker, exploding from wheezing laughter. “Oh, come on! It’s funny!!” His wheezing subsided with a toss of his eyebrows. He shrugged dramatically. “Good thing I appreciate my humor.” 

 Paul sat at the head of the table, the top two buttons undone on his blue business button-down. He made eye contact with me, both of our eyes widening. I’d given him a quick side-hug, one of those awkward lean-down-because-the-other-person-is-too-lazy-to-stand-up hug. It’d almost been a year, but it was the same customary greeting we’d developed. Their plates were already stacked in the sink, but my mom had readied plates of mash potatoes, string beans, and steak for Harry and I. 

 They were sprawled out, tummies full, all of them looking like they’d had long days at the office. Father especially. His face was reddened like the whites of his eyes, his hair standing on end. 

 I poked at my steak. 

 “You missed it, Y/N. He’s already five glasses in,” Paul continued. Teasing father was the one thing we could connect on - but he enjoyed it a little more than I. 

 Mom leant over the table, rolling her eyes. “At least. This is his ‘not drinking during the week,’” There was a smile, though.

 Dad held up his hands. “Hey! I haven’t had one sip of tequila. Wine is like water now.” He turned to Harry, as if his frat boy radar sensed a fellow drinker in his midst. “You have that problem…?” He fished for a name. 

 Harry’s shoulders straightened. “Harry.”

 “Harry?” he asked. 

 Before Harry could answer, Paul’s eyes narrowed. “You look familiar.” 

 It was like somebody sprinkled coked-out fairy dust over Mother. She sat up straighter, eyes twinkling, and sprawled her hands on the table as if to reveal the grand hurrah that Harry was the heir to all the land. Which, in modern day Newport, perhaps he was. I tried to come up with something to rescue Harry, but she beat me to it. 

 “His dad’s a doctor here. Coast Shores Medicine. Mr. Styles runs his own practice.” 

 “He can speak for himself,” I grumbled, stuffing my mouth with mash. 

 My mom stirred, voice low, “Honey, I was just letting them know.” 

 My dad’s eyes bulged out of his head before erupting into laughter. “You- you’re-” He pointed his finger, looking between Harry and me. He laughed more. 

 “Dad,” I warned. It’d clicked in his mind. At the end of summer, before I’d even known the Styles legacy let alone seen Harry’s face, we’d walked past the Styles medical office and my dad absolutely BLASTED their ostentatious display. My dad’s boisterous - Can you believe this idiot??! MORON! DIPSHIT! - blared in my mind like a flare gun. 

 Father caught my daggers. “Oh, relax,” he wheezed, settling down. He wouldn’t say anything, for now. “I transferred more money into your account today by the way.” He winked, pointing to me. “I love you.”

 “Love you too.” But I shrunk in my chair. I know Harry wasn’t one to talk about living off family money, but I didn’t want him getting the wrong idea either.

 Completely oblivious, Harry smiled politely, answering Father’s previous question. “We all have our vices.” 

 “Speaking of addicts-” Paul started.

 “Oh, God,” Dad huffed.

 Paul put his hands up with a humorless laugh. “I wasn’t targeting you, but now that you mention it-” 

 “Paul.” I frowned. 

 My warning tone flipped a switch in him. 

 “What?!” It was sharp, full of irritation, and no matter how long it'd been since I’d heard it - I stilled. His eyes challenged me to press him further, but I didn’t. “Can I speak?” 

 “All right,” mom said. “Let’s settle down.”

 “I’m calm,” Paul declared tersely. “I don’t know about your daughter.” 

 I scoffed, fighting the urge to bite back. 

 Harry tensed, and if I was an inch further I wouldn’t have heard his breath get a little deeper. 

 Without breaking his stare, Paul sat back in his chair, pushing up his sleeves. “Okay,” he started. “As I was saying. I don’t know if you guys saw on the news - probably not, but there was a scandal at the company last week.” 

 The company – AKA Rich Silvang Industries. Paul went straight from college and his internship to full-fledged Wall Street investment banking. He was only three years older than me, but he hadn’t lived at the house since he was eighteen. By 17 ½ all his things were in boxes. Meanwhile, I was almost twenty-one and still had half my things in my old room.  

 Mom practically gasped. “Really?” her voice swam with concern. 

 “I think I saw something about that,” Dad mentioned, putting on a serious tone. 

 “Maybe you did hear about it, then. It’s pretty big. The president was caught in his Vegas penthouse suite filled with drugs, and they arrested him for drug trafficking. They’re searching for someone to replace him right now.” 

 My mom’s hands dropped in her lap. “Wow.”

 “Could you be the replacement?” I asked.

 “Ha, yeah. I wish. I’m a few years off from that.” One thing you need to know about Paul - he has a plan for everything. If he wants something, he’ll buy every book to learn the ins and outs before making a move. His career was no different. 

 “What’d they find?” Harry asked, brows stitched in curiosity. 

 Paul puffed out a breath. “Everything. Heroine, cocaine, meth, ecstasy. It was just sitting there, in his suite. His girlfriend’s arrested, too.”

 “God, what a dipshit,” Dad breathed, irritated disbelief. “This guy has all the money in the world-”

 “Three thousand million dollars,” Paul corrected. 

 “Three tHOUSAND MILLION-!” Father squeaked. “God, if I had that money- GOD, why the hell would you piss it away like that.” 

 “Greed,” Mom said. “Is this the same president who donated all that money to helping foster children? The one invited you for a weekend in Aspen?” 

 “There’s only one president, mom.” 

 “Well I hope you didn’t USE anything.”

 Father ran his hands through his hair, still distraught at the impotence of those with money to enjoy their money. “I mean, I’d be fishing on an island somewhere.” 

 “On YOUR island that you BOUGHT,” Paul pitched in. 

 “With three thousand million,” I breathed. “If someone has everything in the world…” my voice trailed. Human nature was a mystery to me. A complete and utter mystery sometimes. Why get involved in drug trading when you had more than you could possibly need. You could fish off your personal island and then declare that island it’s own country if you wanted to. You could give hundreds of thousands of people access to clean water! Education! Tampons!! Essential things!!!

 Harry suddenly rested his hand on my thigh beneath the table, completely silent. My mom caught the action, a knowing smirk appearing on her lips. 

 “Money is wasted,” Father sighed dramatically, placing a hand on his belly. “Oh!! Speaking of, I have an important question for you.” 

 It took me a second to realize he was looking at me. “Yeah?” I asked, skeptical.

 “Can you grab me another bottle of red?” 

 ----

 The hot water ran over dishes clattering in the sink, and I winced, but I didn’t pull away. I could still feel the crusted blood beneath my nails.

 “Quick, somebody grab a camera.” 

 Father stood in the entranceway to the kitchen, hands up, mouth open in a ridiculous pressed circle like an orangutan. “Y/N’s doing the dishes!!” 

 “Haha. Very funny.” 

 Father sighed, running his hands over his face with a tired smile. “God that was a tiresome dinner, huh.” He tossed the empty wine bottle from hand to hand. 

 My eyes widened. “Yeahhhh.” 

 Harry, Paul, and Mother were still by the table, talking on some new financial law. I timed an escape perfectly. So had Father. 

 “Are you staying the night?”

 “Hm.” I hadn’t thought about that. “Maybe.” 

 “Is he spending the night?” 

 I smiled, not sure what he was going to say to a boy spending the night. The situation certainly hadn’t come up before. “I don’t think so.” 

 “I mean, I don’t care. You’re an adult, you can do what you want. Mom might not like the idea.” 

 In any other case, I’d agree. But this was the Styles boy. I think she’d make an exception. As if knowing where my mind was heading, his blue eyes suddenly twinkled with something mischievous. He finished his thought out loud. “Styles, huh... Isn’t that funny. Where’d you meet this kid?” 

 “English class. Small world, huh?” 

 “For how small it is we don’t see Paul too much, do we?” he asked. It was a more serious question than I was used to. One that didn’t need to be answered. 

 My hand suddenly came too close to the metal faucet, burning it, and I quickly turned it off, moving the dishes to the drying rack. An old Patsy Cline song crackled through the old radio in the kitchen. 

 “I don’t see too much of-” you either. But the words died on my lips when I saw Father’s notoriously clear eyes, wet with springing tears. I stood, shocked, not quite knowing what to say. I couldn’t be mad at him. Not for money, not for drinking. Maybe it was the wine getting him emotional. 

 He gave me one of those dad smiles, patting my shoulder. He hugged me, a proper hug, and I stood, stiff, before relaxing, letting myself be held. I hugged him back, feeling like I was six and he’d just told me he was going away for business. “Let’s go to the shake shack soon,” he said, softly, the slight jokey tone trying to reappear. “S’been a while.” 

 Guilt pricked me. Guilt for growing up, guilt for leaving, guilt for something I couldn’t name. “Course, papa.”

 Over his shoulder, I met Harry’s gaze from the kitchen table.

 Later at the door, we stood telling Paul goodbye. 

 Harry stood behind me in a protective stance while Paul adjusted his briefcase. “So what are your plans for the rest of the year? Are you going to add that extra class next semester, finish early?” he asked, the business-technical tone coming back in his voice. 

 “I’m going to finish my internship at the practice.” 

 “Good. Good. Then what?” Only half-joking.

 “I don’t know, I have another year to figure it out. Go to med school, probably.” 

 “Probably?!” He knocked on the door as he started to leave. “Time flies! Better figure it out, Y/N.”

 I smiled, the only thing I could do.

 “At least you’re going into something employable!” he called. The car beeped behind him, and he loaded his briefcase in the car.

 I smiled tighter.

 “She’ll be fine, Paul,” Mother waved behind me.

 He waved back. 

 “Wait!” Mom called. “You’re not going to give us a hug goodbye?” 

 He jogged back up the side-yard to the door, giving them hugs. Harry a handshake. Me, a side-hug. 

 “Will we see you soon?” I asked.

 “Why?” 

 “Thanksgiving.” 

 His brows rose. “Mom didn’t tell you?” 

 I shook my head.

 “This was our Thanksgiving. I leave for Japan next Wednesday.”

 “What?” I knew for a fact Thanksgiving was two weeks out. 

 “Honey..” she scolded. To Paul, “I told her we were going to do it early, she just doesn’t listen.” 

 “I’ll be back after Japan.” He exchanged a look with my father I couldn’t quite decipher. 

 Some vague memory of Mother telling me about an early Thanksgiving was there, buried beneath sororities, and gangs, and policemen questioning me. And beneath a thick layer of pig’s blood. 

 “Sorry, I forgot.”  

 But he was already in his car, closing the door behind him. 

 We stayed until the headlights disappeared, a sharp wind bellowing in and shaking the curtains. Harry didn’t stay to watch Paul leave. When my parents left for their room, I found him by the painted green wood table, picking at the edge.

 “This is from my fourth birthday.” I pointed to a dark circle on the edge of the table. “I ate my cake so fast, the candles knocked over and almost put the whole house in flames.” 

 “You didn’t blow them out?” 

 “There was cake. I didn’t see the candles.” 

 He smiled. “You’ve lived here a long time?” 

 “Since I was born.” 

 “Not bad.” 

 I led him wordlessly through my past, going through the 70s living room over plush stained carpet, down the hallway past family photos. It was a wordless tour. He stopped in front of a gold frame. It was all of us, on the beach in white. Paul and I had our arms around each other, laughing with gaps where our baby teeth had fallen out and the new ones had yet to come in. Our parents stood behind us, trying to wrestle us in their own arms, wind-whipped hair covering half my mother’s face. Taken seconds before we all fell over and Paul kneed me in the jewels, Father liked to say. 

 Harry caught himself staring, easily catching up with me in the short distance to my room. 

 “The grand reveal,” he murmured. 

 I was suddenly nervous. He followed close behind, entering a space of Frank Sinatra and Elvis posters. My old white wire bed frame stood in the middle of the small space, Winnie the Pooh sheets and mismatched purple pillows on top. The rest was taken up by a large pink bean bag that touched the foot of my bed and the mirrored closet with a European travel collage I’d taped together in its bottom-right corner when I was sixteen.  

 He looked up at the glow-in-the-dark stars stuck to my ceiling, oddly reminiscent of his sister’s old nursery room. “It’s cute,” he finally said. And somehow when he said it, it didn’t sound condescending. 

 He approached the near-empty bookshelf against the wall, now holding my mom’s arts and crafts and random junk bins. Ever since I moved out, more of her had moved in. She still left the walls untouched, though. Harry plucked at a photo booth strip I’d taped to the walls when I was thirteen. The summer after middle school. Matt and I were smiling, tongues out, sticking up our noses, pretending to strangle each other… 

 He tried to tape it back, but the tape had lost its stick.

 “It’s fine,” I said, taking the photo back. I propped it up against the bins. 

 “Do you have most of your books at the dorm? 

 “Yeah. The rest we sold a while back.” 

 “Spring cleaning?” 

 “Kind of??” I wrestled with whether to tell him the slightly more complicated truth. I’d hesitated too long though, and just came out with it. “Actually no, not really.” 

 He raised his brow, looking at my lips, waiting for me to digress. For some reason, I didn’t care if he knew. Maybe because I knew he had secrets, too. Even if he wouldn’t tell.

 “When we were younger… about four years ago now? It was a really rough time, financially.” 

 Harry didn’t say anything, didn’t move. I continued, “We had to get rid of a lot of things to afford the lease.”

 “You guys have been leasing this same house?” 

 I nodded. “It’s a lease-to-buy option. So maybe, one day…” I let my voice trail off. Maybe we’d own it. A potential dream, pretty impossible on paper. “It’s an old lady who owns this house, really sweet. She rents the house to us for a lot less than she could. I think it’s because she doesn’t want somebody else to buy it and tear it down, and she liked our family, too. She grew up here.”  

 He dusted the spine of Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice. “That’s one of the few I kept. Cliché, I know, but…” -I shrugged- “Who doesn’t love Mr. Darcy, right?”

 He turned, a softness in his eyes. 

 “We had to sell a lot in the house to make the payment on-time. She’s sweet and has the final say-so, but her family essentially runs her finances. They’re not so sweet.” 

 “You had to sell your books?” 

 “They were nice. Rare. My Grandpa picked them up for me in antique bookshops he’d visit when he’d travel. People sell a lot more than that to make it… like their bodies, their souuulllll.” 

 “Y/N,” he scoffed. 

 “What?” I sat at the foot of my bed, watching a once-again awkward Harry not quite what to do with his body. “It’s better now! A lot better than what it was. We still live here,” I shrug. 

 “Why don’t you live somewhere else?” 

 He didn’t say what he was thinking. Some place we could afford. 

 “My dad needs to live by the water. It’s his lifeline.” I paused. “That, and wine. If he works this hard and dies tomorrow, he wants to at least enjoy it.” 

 “Your brother…-” 

 “Wasn’t always an ass.” I smiled. 

 “I wasn’t going to say that.” 

 “I know.” I lay down, closing my eyes. I sensed him move towards my feet. “I don’t think he’s ever forgiven my dad,” I admitted. I didn’t say what for, but as soon as the words were out of my mouth, the words I’d wondered about for years, I regretted it. That was too personal to share, even to Harry. With the tact of someone who learned not to speak about his past, he noticed. He didn’t bat an eye, didn’t press, just silently accepted. He moved his hands along the only other Austen cover I had. Sense and Sensibility.

 “You know…” he started, voice delicate as silk. “Austen’s dad went to a publisher on her behalf without even telling her.”

 “Really?” 

 He nodded. “He got declined, but- still. He did everything he could to help her succeed with her work, with her dreams.” 

 “Where are you going with this Shakespeare.” 

 “I can see that in your dad. He really loves you.” 

 I propped myself up on my elbows. “You know, for a boy who’s supposedly failing his classes, you’re pretty smart.”

 “Y/N,” he laughed lightly, settling in a strong gaze. “I was never failing.”

 The room stilled. “What do you mean?” 

 “You know what I mean.” He gently nudged my legs over, settling in beside me. I turned on my side, the Austen book cradled in the nicest hands I’d ever seen. “I didn’t know how else to get you alone,” he admitted, a quiet confession. 

 “Josiah de Saude didn’t know how to talk to a girl.” 

 “Oh, come off it,” he laughed, my favorite shiny laugh. And suddenly I was grinning, too. “I used to know what to say.” His eyes ran over my face, lingering on my mouth. “But then you came along, Y/N,” he admitted. His smile faded.

 With a strong gust of wind, the brush outside thwacked against my window. I jumped. It was always eerie, no matter how old I got. Inside, we had blankets, childhood memorabilia plastered to my walls, the steady thrum of a heater that’d just come out of summer hibernation. The outside wasn’t as calm as it was here. Here, in this mix of childhood and whatever it was that made my heart beat wild, we were safe. If only for a little while.

 I almost forgot Harry was next to me before the back of his hand brushed my leg. His fingers stroked my thigh, the skin beneath him tingling. A simple touch was all it took, and suddenly each cell of my body was on high alert, informing me, fairly quickly, that he didn’t let his hands wander. Did he want them to? 

 “They’re coming after me now,” I said, when it was clear he wasn’t trying anything. His eyes were closed, but his nostrils flared when I spoke. The hickey he’d given me was still there, carefully hidden by pounds of coverup. My fingers memorized its spot. It seemed to burn anew, reminding me of its place as its giver’s face shadowed.

 It needed to be said.

 Maybe my paranoia wasn’t just paranoia. Maybe it was my sixth sense. A warning. Maybe they really had been watching me. Maybe they’d memorized his mark, too. I remembered Harry shouting at me before disappearing on the field. If they fuck with you, they fuck with me. Was I just a walking target? 

 “They won’t get to you.” 

 “They could’ve.”

 “They aren’t dumb enough to do something like that,” he glowered.

 “Something like what?” 

 Words stalled at the curve of his lips. 

 “Something like what,” I repeated, slightly panicking. What had these people done before? Wouldn’t be dumb enough to rape me? Kill me? Hadn’t they come close enough?? His chest rose with a deep breath. “Tonight wasn’t a mistake,” I whispered.

 “You’re right, it wasn’t.” 

 “Well then what do they want? Because if it’s money they’re barking up the wrong tree.” I propped myself on an elbow, silently begging him to open his eyes. He did, hand running gently up my spine. “Do you even know?” I asked, suddenly horrified that he might be as in the dark as me.

 He swallowed, hooded eyes darkening. 

 “They want what I have,” he said. “And they’ll threaten me in any way they can until they get it. They’ll fish out any weakness. And then they’ll exploit it.” His voice softened at weakness. 

 Money, then. They wanted money. Unless… unless his weakness was me? I shook the thought away.

 “Why can’t you tell the police? Why can’t you just… tell them what’s going on?” I was becoming the girl I hated in movies. The girl that as soon as something horrific happened, she made an awful decision to try and solve it herself instead of CALLING THE DAMN COPS. Which is what I yelled at the screen, every time. CALL THE DAMN COPS. Which is what my brain was yelling at me, every day. CALL THE DAMN COPS. Neither of us listened. 

 “It’s more complicated than that,” he brushed off. 

 “Does this have to do with your ‘association’ with them?” 

 His voice turned sharp.  “That’s enough with the questions.” A horrific tremble rippled up my spine. The tone, so harsh and authoritative, just like my brother’s, made my skin crawl. He looked at me, sighing. “Please, just trust me on this. The less you know the better.” 

 “It’s a little hard to trust you when you’re the reason I’m a target.” 

 My words lingered for a horrible moment. A long, drawn-out silence. I could practically feel them dissolve into Harry’s skin before he sat up, leaping to his feet.

 I panicked. “I mean, it’s just hard to trust anyone when there’s so much that could happen. Things I don’t even know that could happen to me. Or even my family.” He scratched his collar, looking at our reflection in the mirror. My body scrambled upright, tearing itself from the blankets. “I don’t know what these guys are capable of. If you could just tell me, maybe-”

 “I should go.” 

 “No, Harry- wait!” 

 He stalled at the door. I met him there, tugging at his sweater sleeve. He’d looked so lovely in my room, in a different part of my life he’d only just entered. And now to see him leave my safe place so suddenly hurt me deeper than I thought it would. He turned, begrudgingly. The green ivy of his eyes had cooled, hardened, becoming impenetrable. 

 “Don’t leave. Please. You can’t keep coming and leaving, it’s more than confusing, it’s… it’s completely maddening!” 

 He leaned his head back against the door, practically groaning, but pinched the bridge of his nose instead. He took several levelled breaths. Finally, “You think I want this?” 

 I stilled. “Want what?”

 The horrifying possibility that “this” referenced us, petrified me. But the insecurity that he didn’t want me vanished when he looked traitorously at my waist, strong hands following suit. They gripped my sides, tugging me lightly forward. Suddenly I was drunk off the thought of them pushing me further, enough to make me dizzy... but they didn’t push. Strong hands kept me a safe distance apart, at any second looking like they could pull me into him or push me away. 

 “I want so many things, Y/N,” he breathed. “But all of them seem to do with you. And I don’t-” He seemed frustrated with himself as his brows stitched, trying to find the words. “I don’t know how to handle this. Everything’s so entangled.” 

 A knock at my door made us both jump. It creaked open, Mother poking her head in with a wide smile.

 “I heard it was a good game tonight,” she half-whispered. 

 Harry cocked a smile, and his hands fell from waist. “Yeah, it was.” Guarded eyes look to me. “Y/N went with my sister.” 

 So he had seen. I couldn't tell if there was irritation lacing his voice, but there certainly wasn’t joy. Entangled…. 

 “Oh, that’s fun. We’ll have to go watch you sometime huh honey?”

 I nodded slowly, eyes wide, silently asking what in the HECK are you doing in here?? 

 She drummed her fingers along the door. “Are you staying the night? You’re more than welcome to sleep on the couch. I know it doesn’t look that big, but it’s actually quite comfortable with all the blankets...”

 “You’re so sweet, really,” he started. And Mother believed it. I believed it. His entire look softened. “But I can’t, unfortunately. I have an early practice tomorrow. And I have to get gas on my way home.”

 My heart sank. The car. He needed to move my car.

 “Oh, really?” Mother opened the door wider. “It’s getting late, though. It started raining…” 

 “I’m used to a little rain,” he said, slipping past my mother. I remained behind her, arms crossed. “Thank you for having me. It was a lovely dinner.” He looked to me, betrayed and abandoned, something sad and regretful brimming in his eyes. He lifted a finger to his brow in salute, then turned on his heel, heading down the hall. 

 “Bye Harry!” She called. Then, to me, “Don’t you want to walk him out?” 

 I shook my head, fighting back a slew of angry words as I sulked to my window. I opened it, wide, letting the first sprinkles of rain hit my face. 

 “Oh honey, shut that, you’ll get the sill all wet.” 

 “I just want to feel it for a little while,” I said. 

 “You’ll catch cold!”

 “Mom, please.”

 She flinched. “Okay. Just a little, though. Want me to close your door?” 

 I nodded, a gust of wind blowing and almost slamming it shut itself. 

 “A storm’s coming, Y/N,” she shivered. “Don’t stand there too long.”  

 I wasn’t sure when she left my doorway, but I knew when he left the driveway. An engine roared to life and the rain surged with a frenzy. I listened as the grumbling faded away, down the street and off to somewhere unknown - but not out of my life. That part wasn’t in my control, but there were things that were. I couldn’t stand around and wait for him anymore. Mother was right.

 I closed the window, walking to the foot of my bed. Alone, a soppy looking girl stared back at me from the mirror. She sat on a familiar bed, wet hair plastering her face, droplets hanging from her nose, from her lashes. She looked only partly relaxed, the rest of her poised, tensed, like she could either jump or sleep in any given second. She looked exhausted.  

 But there was something alive, still. Just beyond her eyes, a little ember catching spark.

 I wasn’t going to stand around. The window had already opened. The rain had hit the fan and it’d soaked me through. Nothing was going to change unless I did. Unless I moved.

 Waiting for a boy to verify my safety?

 Yeah, no thanks. If Madame Bovary taught me anything,

 I’d get that myself.

part 19

[yurtletheturtlehenderson]

Scars That Heal || Eddie Kaspbrak x Reader Series

• Ch. 4: Bust A Move •

TRIGGER WARNINGS: sexual assault implications. This very first scene with Beverly involves her and her father, and her fear of him doing something to her. If you'd like to skip I have marked the end of the encounter with this: [●●●] When you see this marker, that means it is over and you can read the rest of the chapter in peace. This chapter will begin with this scene so if you are skipping, proceed to scroll until you see the marker.

A/N: you certainly will not hurt my feelings if you skip the scene. This was a very difficult mindset to get into myself and I struggled a lot emotionally with writing it. But I promise, the rest of the chapter is heartwarming and fun and overall is the foundation of friendships and significant to Y/n's arc, her induction into the Losers Club [including her link to Henry and what "makes her a loser" and the budding relationship between her and Eddie.

WORD COUNT: So big I had to add a word count, 7849. Oof, take some breaks peeps.

×××

    With a terrible sinking feeling and a churning stomach, Beverly walked through her front door. She tightened her grip on the plastic bag she held behind her back, praying her father wasn't around to see what she had bought. As she crept through her apartment, scanning for any signs of life, she absentmindedly heard the words of the children's program echoing throughout the residence.

    "Toilet and bath water travel down the drains and into the sewer." The front closed, not as quietly as Bev had hoped. "The sewer is a fun place to play with all of your friends. Just follow the water into the drains and down into the sewers you go."

     The words of the cheerful program hostess echoed off the walls and went unnoticed by Bev. "When you're with your friends in the sewers, you can be as silly as a clown!"

    She poked her head cautiously into the living room, it was empty.

   "That's right, it's the word of the day."

    Bev walked quickly and briskly down the hall, nearing the safety of the bathroom when the large looming figure of her father appeared. Beverly met his eye, fear settling in her chest as she gulped.

    "Hi, Daddy." Her voice came out in a choked whisper, a side only her father could bring out in her.

    "Hey, Bevvie." His eyes flickered down at her grocery bag and back up at her. "Whatcha got there?"

    Her eyes fluttered down to the concealed box of tampons in the bag, knowing, no, dreading this day. This is what she had feared would happen. Why, she cursed herself. Why the fuck hadn't she just done this in the safety of Y/n's apartment?

    "Just some things,"

    "Like what?" He took the bag from her hands and rifled through.

    He grinned suddenly and his eyes zeroed in on Bev. She felt her whole body stiffen in terror. He knew now. And there was no telling what he would do. Her eyes drifted to the wall behind him, and there they stayed, much too frightened to look him in the eye. His rough and calloused hand touched the side of her face and she fought her instincts to recoil, knowing better.

    He brought her in close, and he closed his eyes. He took a long lingering sniff of her hair and she felt the icy cold grip of fear grasp her heart. Tears pooled in her eyes and his hand fell to her long red hair, and he now held it in his palm. She felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up, fear prickling her skin and he stroked her red locks with his thumb, possessively.

    "Tell me you're still my little girl."

   Two little words, she told herself. Two little words she had to say and it and he would be on his way. Hopefully.

    "Yes, Daddy."

    "Good."

    His palm returned to the side of her face, and he motioned her away. A flooding sense of relief washed over her and she slipped around him and disappeared into the safety of the bathroom.

    Her palms gripped the sink, and the running faucet almost completely covered the noise of her distraught sobs. Her salty tears that fell from her cheeks landed in the sink and were carried down the pipes along with the rest of the running water. A long and slender pair of silver scissors lay next to her palm on counter. With a shaky hand, she brought the scissors up to her loose hair.

    The hair that he strokes, the hair that he smells, and the same fucking hair that draws every unwanted eye in town, including her own father. Grasping a long lock of hair, she hesitated. Only once. But countless memories flooded her at once. How many times he looked at her, how he looked at her. No. No more.

    She snipped a lock of hair and she smelled the whiff of freedom it brought. The feeling disappeared just as quickly as it had come but and was soon replaced by more spite. Spite and fear.

    "This is what you did," she whispered, cutting another chunk of hair. "This is what you..."

    She grabbed another chunk of hair, eagerly. Desperately.

    "This,"

    Another lock gone.

    "And this,"

    She kept her eyes on the sink, watching wisps of orange hair circle the drain before disappearing. She angrily grasped larger chunks of hair, working feverishly. The hair fell from her head so fast, it began to pile up in the sink. Sobs racked her body and her hand returned to her head and she realized there was no more.

    For the first time she let her herself look at her reflection. There stood a sad and frightened young girl. Beverly ran a hand through her shortened hair, lingering on her scalp as she adjusted to the new feeling. Her once long and gorgeous head of hair was no more, choppy and uneven curls was all that was left. It was short and messy, not unlike hair she'd find on most boys at her school.

    Good.

[●●●]

    Y/n didn't know why she bothered looking in her drawers for clothes, she barely had any in the first place. Decent clothes at least, just about everything she owned was second hand and it was not uncommon that they were torn slightly in places.

    She wondered why the hell she was nervous in the first place. Then her fingers found the familiar nylon of the swimsuit fabric, and she sighed. Right.

    Y/n and Bev had agreed to go swimming with a bunch of boys they barely knew. It wasn't that hard to connect the dots when they mentioned where they were going, it was the quarry after all. But it never quite dawned on her until now, that she was going swimming with several boys she barely knew. Even though Bev would be there, that wasn't exactly a comfort. She never quite had her friend's confidence.

    Despite her home life and all the nasty whispers that floated through town, Beverly didn't let it affect how she saw herself, a quality Y/n admired. The same couldn't quite be said for herself. She could barely afford to go to school at Derry High, her family worked paycheck to paycheck just to send her to school. And she didn't like to talk about it, but Beverly had time and time again lent her money for little things that she couldn't afford herself. In fact, she had a few old jackets and shoes that Beverly had given her.

    The two girls were more than thankful for their friendship, both a perfect fit for one another, like two pieces of a puzzle. Each of them were able and willing to give the other what they could provide, whether it was some borrowed money, or a safe haven away from a leering father, and of course a never ending source of love and support. But of course, occasionally, no matter how hard she fought, the little green monster wormed its way into her mind. It always managed to pluck her most treasured memories with Bev, and stain it with jealousy, rotting it with envy and disgust. It picked at her confidence and fed her venomous lies that completely contorted their friendship.

    Like the only reason people knew about her was because she was friends with Beverly. It was the beautiful Beverly Marsh and ol' What's Her Face. She would occasionally catch herself wishing she could draw attention like that, but she quickly dismissed it. No, she shook her head, ridding herself of the thought, no it's not worth it. She reminded herself of all the horror stories she had heard from Bev, and had witnessed for herself, in the many years of their friendship.

    Sure, she was easily noticed by cute guys at her school, and that was fun and exciting at her age, but she was also noticed by older men. Men like Mr. Keene, and he was only one example in dozens of men all over town. Not to mention her own father. Any time the little green monster returned, it diminished itself in the pity Y/n felt for her best friend. But that didn't mean it wasn't hard for Y/n to hear the many names she had been called. "Filthy little tramp!"

    And not to mention the countless side glances followed by surprise from boys - and girls - that she had in fact been there standing next to Bev the whole time, and they only just noticed her. She was always the sidekick. "So ditch the street rat and we'll go to the movies, you and me."

    Anytime anybody thought she couldn't hear them, they spoke ill of her. Hell, not even then, most people didn't care if she overheard. Usually, they were trying to persuade Bev in one way or another to leave her behind.

   "What is she, your little puppy dog? Just tell her you're sick or somethin' and you're home free,"

   "Look, you're friend seems... nice, but she doesn't fit in with us. Either come alone or don't come at all."

    Of course, Beverly never bought into that crap. Y/n was too important to her, she was Beverly's saving grace after all. And there was no way in hell she would let anyone talk about Y/n that way.

   "Then I guess I'm not coming." She'd reply. "If you really need a date so bad just take the stick up your ass,"

    Y/n smiled at the memory. Oh, how she relished in the shock on their faces. That particular comeback had them running away with giddy laughter as they wove through the halls, the angry trio of boys after them. They found sanctuary in a small hiding spot behind the school where they remained until the trio gave up and went home with slightly deflated egos.

    This was another reason Y/n was ashamed to have these thoughts, Beverly clearly cared for her and would be very upset to know she thought these things of herself.

    As Y/n pulled her worn out jean shorts over her bathing suit, she searched her bed for the t-shirt she had set aside. She slipped it on and as she looked in the slightly cracked mirror she felt a small bud of confidence blooming in her chest.

    Beverly had her back, and she had hers. And she knew if Richie ever made some comment about her, Bev would shut it down if she hadn't first. The bud of confidence spread in her chest as she could feel herself being persuaded.

    That was, until she noticed the tag on the outside of her shirt. She sighed exasperated, and quite frankly, rather exhausted. Y/n hadn't gotten much sleep the previous night. If she tried hard enough, she was able to push the memory to the back of her mind and forget, but only for the day. Then of course, if was time for her to go to bed. Then every detail of what she saw, what she felt, was amplified in the silence of her room. She flinched at every creek in the walls, every car that passed by.

    And she didn't dare move her feet out from under her blankets, no matter how hot she felt. Of course, this ended up being one of the reasons it was difficult to fall asleep.

    Y/n counted herself lucky she fell asleep at all. And yet, the thought of being unconscious, completely unguarded and unprepared, where anything could happen - anything could get her - was just as unsettling. She wished Beverly was there with her, but she knew she had to sleep alone eventually.

    Right on cue, she heard the soft rap on wood come from down the hall in the living room. Beverly was here. Casting one last glance at her reflection, and her shirt now fixed, Y/n took a deep breath and made her way to the front door. She made the mistake of glancing at the carpet and the faded red stain and she felt a sudden prick of fear in her heart and the sudden hyper-awareness of her injury. Trying not to give it much thought, she took a deep breath returning her attention to the door, swiftly stepping over the spot on the carpet.

    Her attention focused on undoing the many locks on the door, she failed to notice her friend's new look through the window. It came as quite a surprise to Y/n, having only known Beverly with long hair. She would have brought it up if it wasn't for the look on Beverly's face.

    Her eyes were on the ground and when the door opened, Bev slowly met Y/n's eye. She recognized the look in Bev's eye, a look that screamed 'I really don't want to talk about it right now.' A look she had given to her not too long ago herself. Y/n plastered on a smile and broke the small moment of silence.

    "You ready?"

×××

    Richie Tozier does not hold back when it comes to spitting contests. Himself, Stan, Bill, Ben, and Eddie were standing at the cliffs edge, stripped down to their underwear and Richie was first up to bat. He did not shy away from whatever method he needed to conjure the spitball, no matter the foul noises he made in the process. He reeled back and launched the spitball over the cliff, and the rest of the boys followed suit.

    Eddie flinched when his own mucus landed on the rocks near his feet.

    "Oh, my God, that was terrible. I win." Richie exclaimed.

    Eddie looked at him, dumbfounded. "You won?"

    "Yeah."

    "Did you see my loogie?"

    "That went the farthest!" Richie argued, gesturing where he spit. "It's by distance."

    "Mass. It's always been mass."

    Richie began sputtering in disbelief, but Eddie continued.

    "Who cares how far it goes? It matters how cool it looks, like it's green or it's white or juicy and fat."

    Ben cringed, and he met eyes with Bill who gave him a look that said 'see what I have to put up with?' He shook his head, shutting down the conversation before it continue further.

    "Who's first?"

    There was a brief moment of silence and the boys looked over the cliff into the emerald waters, contemplating the jump.

    "I'll go!"

    They turned their heads to see Beverly Marsh and Y/n L/n. Beverly had been the one to speak and she dropped her bike to the ground before discarding her dress. Their eyes widened and Beverly smiled.

    "Sissies," she laughed.

    She broke into a light jog, the boys parting like the red sea and she launched herself off the cliff.

    "What the fuck!" Richie exclaimed.

    They looked at the water in which Beverly had disappeared, completely dumbfounded. Suddenly and in perfect sync, they looked to Y/n, almost expecting to see her do something equally surprising but she merely gave them an odd look. She set down her bike and shifted on her feet uncomfortably.

    "What?"

    They all broke out of their gaze, rather obviously, and tried to look anywhere but her, knowing they'd been caught.

    She had to remind herself that she wasn't the only one who would be undressed, and everyone else, besides herself, already was. Taking advantage of their distracted nature, she quickly slipped off her shorts and t-shirt, making sure to slip out of her shoes as well.

    "Come on!" Beverly's voice was distant, but it grabbed everyone's attention.

    Bill was the next to make the jump, followed by Ben. Next was a less than eager Stan, leaving Richie, Eddie and Y/n who had cautiously joined them at the edge. Richie looked between Eddie and Y/n, then back to the water.

    He sighed deeply, taking a step forward and removing his glasses, and tossing them on his pile of clothes.

    "Well, fuck" He took a deep breath and jumped off the cliff, leaving Eddie and Y/n alone.

    They shared an equally nervous look with a few uneasy smiles. Y/n peered over the edge, scanning the water for a safe space to land. As she waited for the moving figures of Richie and Stan swimming away from the landing zone, Eddie couldn't help but look at her. Observing the small crinkle of her brow and how unsure she felt, he felt his own fears vanish. Something inside him wanted to make her feel less nervous, and perhaps that was his own way of deflecting his own fears but he didn't care.

    "I'll go if you go," he offered.

    She looked at him in slight surprise, and a small smile tugged at her lips. Y/n looked between Eddie and the water, shifting weight off of her bad leg. This smile was less forced, and genuine, it was thankful. And Eddie felt a wave of nerves bubbling in his stomach, not at the jump, but the kindness in her eyes, and the way she mentally built herself up.

    She nodded and they both gazed at the lake below, everyone was looking at them now. They had cleared a space and Eddie and Y/n could hear the remarks being made by their friends.

    "On three?" She asked, quirking a brow.

    "On three." He nodded, backing up slightly. "One,"

    Y/n suddenly shook her head, stepping back and spoke at a rapid rate, cutting Eddie off.

    "Fuck, if I wait that long I'll change my mind. Let's go," Without warning, she grabbed his hand and jumped off the cliff, giving him no choice but to jump with her.

    It never even occurred to Eddie that he could have let go of her hand.

    Eddie felt his heart leap into his throat and he was certain time stopped still as he was suspended in air. Perhaps it was the sudden change in view and the fact he was practically pulled off the cliff and how high he was above the water, or maybe it was her hand around his - no, nope. It was the height, definitely the height.

    On their way down he gasped in fear at the rapidly approaching water and he felt her hand leave his as she braced for impact. Eddie tried not to think of the millions of germs in the water, and he could feel the thousands of bubbles grazing his body as he sunk deeper into the water. When he emerged he gasped for air, reminding himself to steady his breathing, less he have an asthma attack. He realized his throat was sore and that he must have screamed the whole way down.

    He looked round at the cheering figures of his friends, whooping and cheering them on. Though he tried not to panic when he counted only five figures above the surface. Just before he could ask where she was, Y/n burst out of the water next to Ben, gasping for air.

    "Holy shit!" She wiped her face with her hand, clearing the drops of water obstructing her vision.

    "Took you long enough," Bev smirked.

    Richie nodded. "Yeah, too bad you guys missed out. We were just about to pack it up and call it a day."

    Eddie rolled his eyes and Y/n sunk further into water, all the way up to her nose.

Y/n concentrated on kicking her legs and her arms moved back and forth under the water keeping herself afloat. The others, specifically Richie and Eddie, had already launched into another debate.

    "Do you have any idea, how filthy this water is. We'll be lucky if we don't contract something, I am serious right now. So forgive me if I am a little hesitant to jump into this cesspool of germs and bacteria. Not to mention the several loogies that are floating around here somewhere, or did you forget already?"

    "Oh sure, now you're worried about loogies, Mr. 'juicy and fat'"

    Bev, who had begun looking around her in confusion and slight concern, spoke up. "Loogies?"

    "Juicy and fat?" Y/n asked disgusted, her face scrunched up, looking questioningly between Richie and Eddie.

    Eddie blinked once, and shook his head. Desperate to change the subject, he diverted his attention back to Richie, pretending Y/n hadn't heard that.

    "Besides, if we weren't careful enough, we could have seriously hurt ourselves jumping from that height. Even if we knew there were no rocks in the water, a fall from from anything higher and we could have died, I'm not doing that shit again. If you want to go swimming, fine by me, but I'm not jumping anymore, I'll just meet you guys down here."

    "Don't be such a drama queen Eds, you jump a million times if it meant you had a pretty hand to hold on the way down and you know it, "

    Y/n looked to Richie, her brows furrowing and she was thankful the water was already concealing her pink cheeks. Eddie, unfortunately did not have the same luxury.

    "Fuck you, Richie,"

    Richie smirked. "Eddie, please, now's not the time for romance."

    Eddie's face scrunched up and he splashed Richie in the face, who had began chuckling at his friends response. Immediately, he retaliated with a splash of his own. Unfortunately, it hit Stan who frowned, and splashed back. It wasn't long before the entire group was involved, save for Y/n who was giggling off to the side where she was free of any water hitting her face.

    "Alright, alright," Stan waved his arms around, signaling for a truce. "Alright!"

    Everyone settled down and the water began to calm.

    "We should-" Stan was briefly interrupted by splash to the face, and he stopped to glare at Richie and sighed, wiping his face. "Chicken, we have enough people, who wants to play?"

    "Me against wheezy first," Richie jabbed his thumb over his shoulder at Eddie, who had in fact been wheezing. "I need to defend my title and he made it awfully clear last time he thought he could take me,"

    "I can asshole, I already told you. I had an asthma attack, if I hadn't I would have won and you know it."

    "Wanna prove it?"

    "Oh, it is so on, dickhead. Same circumstances, same partners, Stan come on!"

    Already regretting his decision to bring it up, Stan fell in line with the others as they entered shallow waters. Bill lifted Richie on his shoulders, and Stan lifted Eddie. Beverly had swam over to join Y/n and the two girls watched the chicken fight with great amusement.

    Y/n almost didn't notice the quiet figure of Ben, who had joined them off to the side. He had been neglecting to speak, but she recognized the longing look of wanting to fit in. She smiled, and swam over to join him. He seemed surprised she had joined him, but he returned the smile, albeit a bit nervously.

    "How's your stomach, Ben?"

    "Huh?" Ben gave Y/n a funny look, but before she count point out his stomach injury, it seemed to click "Oh! Oh, yeah, uh, it's feeling better, thank you. What about you? H-How's your leg?"

    "Better, thank you."

    A genuine smile tugged at her lips, feeling herself relax at the company of the boy. Y/n had barely known him, but she was intuitive enough to know that he was timid and kind. And though she was enjoying the new company of the other boys, it was nice to have a more relaxed presence. Though there was Stan, but Y/n had yet to get to know him.

    Their attention was pulled back to the chicken fight when they heard a sharp yelp and felt the water shift around them. And there sitting atop Stan's shoulders, waving his arms triumphantly was Eddie, whooping and hollering.

    A smirk grew on Y/n's face at this. It only grew wider when Richie emerged.

    "Foul!" Richie exclaimed, pointing at Eddie and shifting effortlessly into another persona. "Aaaaand Kaspbrak is outta the game!"

    "What? What the hell are you talking about?" Eddie asked, waving his arms slightly.

    "You pushed me, that's a foul."

    "That's the whole premise of the game! Of course I pushed you!"

    "You know what I mean, dillhole, you shoved my shoulders! That's a foul!"

    "No, that's allowed. The attackers get to use any means necessary to knock the opposer down, that's stated very clearly in the rules!"

    "Show me this rule book Eds, cause it's sounds an awful lot like you're making this shit up just because you can't win without playing dirty!"

    "Or maybe you just can't stand the fact that I beat you! I'm the one with the title now, aren't I?"

    "Oh, is that so-?"

    Ben, who had been growing uncomfortable from the heated argument, spoke up nervously. At least he tried to, but Y/n was the only one who heard him so she cleared her throat, grabbing everyone's attention. Ben seemed relieved.

    "Why don't we just do new teams?"

    "G-good idea," Bill spoke up, and he looked around the small group. "W-who wants t-to go next?"

    "Oh, I want to play!" Bev smiled walking against the water into the shallower parts of the water, but she stopped briefly, looking over her shoulder. "Ben, do you want to be my partner?"

    Ben tried to hide his blush, and he shyly nodded his head. "Uh, sure, yeah."

    Ben joined her, but she began looking around. "Alright, who's opposing?"

    Beverly caught Y/n's eye, and gestured hopefully over. Y/n smiled nervously and shook her head, her lips pressed into a firm line, and Bev shrugged.

    "Alright then, Richie, why don't you play us, if you're clearly an expert."

    "Gee, I would but my shoulders are killing me, I think I'm out for the season,"

    "Grow up, asshole, just go." Said Eddie, who had dismounted Stan's shoulders.

    "Well, since you asked so nicely," Richie said. "Bill, you're up."

    "W-why don't we let someone else g-go?"

    "Why? S'the matter with you?"

    Bill shrugged. "N-nothing. Just thought I'd l-let someone else go."

    Richie gave him an odd look but shrugged it off. "Fine,"

    Richie then spotted a Y/n, at least who he assumed was Y/n - he didn't have his glasses after all - who was hiding in the water, despite how shallow it was. It finally clicked that she had barely said a word since, well, since she and Bev showed up, he realized. She seemed different, she held herself differently than how she was in class. In class, she usually was able to keep up with his quick wit. He never told her this, but he enjoyed her company. He pegged her as someone who was quick witted and didn't take shit from anyone, and he admired that.

    But now she was quiet and reserved. Hell, she must be sitting on her ass right right now just to stay under the water. Richie didn't understand this. Now facing her, he dug his hand in the water and splashed her face, ripping her out of her thoughts, and she looked at him startled.

    She had to wipe away the fresh water droplets running down her face, and she narrowed her eyes at him.

    "What the hell?"

    "Come on, I need a partner and Denbrough bailed. You're up."

    She scoffed, slinking deeper into the water.

    "Come on, whatya', chicken?" He quipped, quirking an eyebrow.

    If he knew anything about this girl, she wasn't one to shy away went it came to making a comeback. Sure enough, she rolled her eyes and raised her head ever so slightly so her lips were above the water.

    "No, I'm not, that's why I'm not playing." She said snidely.

    He smiled triumphantly to himself, considering it a win he was able to get her to speak more than three words.

    "Come on, toots, it'll be fine. We'd make a great team!" He exaggerated a dopey grin and gestured for her to join him.

    Richie may have been blind as a bat, but he could tell she was considering it. She looked around at everyone, who was watching the exchange expectantly. Y/n didn't know if it was everyone's stares or the fact the fact she was genuinely tempted but she gave in and made her way over to him.

    Richie, who still wasn't completely sure is she was moving or not, gave her a cheeky wink, and pushed his luck even further. "I'll let you be on top,"

    Richie expected a comeback or a even a scoff from her, not a pair of hands roughly shoving him into the water by his shoulders. Naturally he figured, one of his friends had done this, tired of his antics and found a unique way to shut him up, but then he felt a pair of legs take a seat on his shoulders and he knew it was Y/n.

    Once he was sure she was secure he rose up out of the water, gasping for air when he reached the surface. The others, cheered her on, welcoming her to the fun.

     She nearly tipped over as he readjusted in the sand, but she grabbed onto his hair by his scalp and he winced.

    "Ah, watch it! I am quite fond of my scalp, you know,"

    "As long as you watch that trashmouth of yours Tozier, one more comment like that and I'll drown you," she peered over his head, giving him a light but slightly teasing glare.

    Nevertheless, she loosened her grip and he blinked a few times, his scalp tingling. "Duly noted,"

    Nobody seemed to hear the small chuckle that escaped Eddie who had been watching, quite impressed with her ability to shut the boy up. He'd have to ask her how she does it.

    "Alright, come on, we gonna play or what?" Bev asked, despite the grin that worked its way onto her face.

    She too was happy to see her friend coming out of her shell, she could tell she had been nervous and Richie proved to be a big help, much to her surprise.

    "It's on, we have got this in the bag!" Richie bragged, getting into position across from Ben.

    Richie cast a glance up to his partner and smiled cheekily, batting his eyelashes. "Right babe?"

    Immediately she whacked his head with her hand and he winced once more. "What did I just tell you?"

    "Alright, alright! Jeez," He tightened his arms around her legs, securing her in place and he took a step forward towards their opponents. "But do keep in mind, we are on the same team, you want to hit the other players"

    He missed the eye roll she gave, but nevertheless she smirked, shaking out her arms, getting ready for the match.

    Bill, who usually announced the beginning of a round, did just that. With one simple word, the girls locked in on one another, theirs hands interlaced and they each pushed with all their might.

    There were several close calls, on both teams, but they always persevered. Unexpectedly, Richie took a few steps back, and Ben, confused by his tactic, stepped forward after them. Though both of them moved slowly, their speed affected against the water, and Y/n nearly tipped over, but her balance was regained when Richie leaned forward and ran forward against the water, tipping Y/n forward and giving her more momentum.

    Catching Bev off guard she was able to prove successful in her efforts to push her over. Beverly came tumbling off of Ben's shoulders, and almost kicked the poor boy in the face on the way down. Richie and Y/n cheered victoriously, and even Ben cracked a smile at their unexpected move.

    Eddie, who had found himself rooting for them, despite his previous grudge against his old opponent, whooped and hollered at their win. Bill and Stan cheered as well, and Beverly broke the surface, a big smile on her face.

    Y/n had already forgotten her nerves and felt a swelling sense of comradery and a growing respect for her partner.

    "Alright, ready to put this to the ultimate test?" Richie asked, addressing his partner and the rest of the group. "New champs, versus old champs,"

    Y/n smiled, looking to Eddie and Stan hopefully, now completely invested in the fun. Eddie felt a swell of confidence and gave in, Stan joining him.

    "Fine, but no playing dirty," Eddie mocked, looking at Richie.

    Richie smirked. "No promises,"

    Eddie, who now struggled to climb onto Stan's shoulders, scoffed.

    Eventually, everyone was situated and Eddie suddenly felt a small flurry of butterflies in his stomach that he briefly mistook for nausea. But he realized that it was in fact butterflies when he saw Y/n opposite him. They were brought closer by their respective partners who stepped forward, preparing for the match. She glared playfully at him, a small smirk on her lips and she outstretched her arms ready to fight. He hadn't realized the match had begun until he was forced to scramble for balance on Stan's shoulders when she went for his arms.

    Their hands interlaced for the second time that day and now he was certain his racing heart was caused by this. Nevertheless, he pushed those feelings aside, reminding himself he wanted to beat Richie again, but the motivation to do so was weaker this time. Though he didn't let this shake his competitiveness so he matched her strength and the two laughed and grunted as they both tried desperately to push one another down.

     Each of them found the other to be a surprising match for themselves. They would often find themselves going for the same opportunities only for the other to be prepared for it. Everyone was now completely invested in the match, everyone cheering them on though they didn't quite know which team they were rooting for.

    Eventually, Stan and Richie had had the same idea and moved in closer in an attempt to push the limits. Both Richie and Stan were beginning to lose interest in who would win, eager to give their arms and legs a break. When they both moved in closer, hoping one of their partners would take advantage of the distance and strike, but once again the pair had the same idea. They leaned into the momentum, each giving one last push and much to everyone's surprise, they both fell on their backs, crashing against the water and earning a small sting from the contact.

    Y/n sunk into the water, slower and slower and she felt her back lightly hit the sand. She felt something graze her ankle, her bad ankle, and before she could stop herself her eyelids ripped open. She flinched in the water, pulling her leg away and she had to blink several times just to adjust to seeing underwater, her heart pounding in fear. But much to her relief, right where her ankle had been, she saw a piece of plastic poking out of the sand, swaying back and forth.

    She would have breathed a sigh of relief but she saved her breath and returned to the surface. She had already lost a small puff of air when she had inadvertently yelped at the contact the plastic had made with her foot.

    Her small panic seemed to have gone unnoticed by the group and everyone had begun milling about, getting lost in their own conversations.

    Y/n looked around at her new friends, and she felt a warmth grow in her chest. By now, she had joined them in deeper waters, once again slinking back into the water but this time it wasn't from fear of judgement but staying cool in the warm June sun. Everyone was lost in their own conversations but she knew she was just apart of this group as everyone else was. As she looked around at all the smiling faces, she relaxed.

    An unexpected laugh escaped her as she saw Eddie holding Richie under the surface and she swam over in their direction. Richie popped up for air and slapped the boy away, though he still wore a goofy grin. Eddie, unlike Richie, was unaware of her approach, a fact Richie declined to give away.

    Y/n was now just behind him, a sly grin on her face and Stan, who had noticed her intentions, called out Eddie making him turn around.

    Sure enough, he whirled around, his face half a foot away from Y/n and she splashed the unsuspecting Kaspbrak boy in the face. On instinct, he whirled back around, only for Richie to do the same and he desperately wiped his face.

    "What the hell is happening!" It came out in shriek that amused everyone in the group.

    Richie and Y/n both let out a chortle of laughter, and soon even Stan had joined in. Though he didn't know whether or not it was from the excitement he felt or the fact the trick he had fallen for that twice in a row, Eddie began to feel the effects of his friends contagious laughter ripple through himself. He shook his head, hoping the smirk he was fighting would be shaken off as well but no matter his efforts, is was glued on his face.

    Though something in Stan compelled him to get back at Richie - who was enjoying all too much the fact he now had help in teasing Eddie - that he decided to splash Richie without warning. Perhaps it was because he wanted to catch Richie off guard, like Richie had done to him earlier. No matter the reason, Stan enjoyed doing it anyway. Richie retaliated and and yet another water war had begun.

    Y/n wore a smile as bright and warm as the sun above her as she looked around at her new friends, more than grateful she had fallen down the steps and met these boys. Y/n chuckled at their antics, grabbing Eddie's attention. He hadn't realized he had been staring until she turned to meet his eye. His first instinct was to pretend he hadn't been looking but instead he broke eye contact briefly and chuckled weakly and he smiled at her.

    Y/n didn't seem to mind, and she smiled back and her shoulders moved slightly as she chuckled.

    "It's okay," His pulse quickened, scared she was speaking of his staring. "I won't splash you anymore,"

    He chuckled and nodded slightly, words failing him. He directed his attention to Richie and Stan and her gaze followed. They were both struggling to submerge the other under the water, past them, Bill and Beverly watched equally amused.

    Y/n yelped when she felt a small nip on her foot and she quickly retracted her leg. Oh, come on! She swam backwards, eyes scanning the water though it proved to be useless. The others joined her side, worried expressions on their faces.

    "W-what happened?"

    "What's wrong?"

    Eddie, who looked particularly worried and rather startled, knowing he would regret going swimming one way or another, began scanning the water backing up.

    "What! What is it?"

    "I think something bit me!"

    Everyone began shifting around the water and Ben, with a burst of bravery, disappeared under the water and began searching.

    Y/n was curious as to why these kids heard about something lurking in the water and biting and somehow thinking it was worth exploring, but a part of her was curious too. Bill soon joined the boy underwater and Y/n had almost begun to grow worried when Bill popped back up, pointing where Y/n had been.

    "It's a turtle!"

×××

    Not long after they kids found the turtle lurking at the bottom of the quarry, their skin began to prune and their limbs grew tired from swimming.

    The boys, who had come prepared with Bill's boombox and Eddie's towels, the kids had dried off. The boys had all found a spot on the rocks and after much persuasion, Beverly had convinced Y/n to sunbathe with her.

    Her confidence from earlier had waned, but at the time, the boys were far too distracted fighting over the radio channels and what they wanted it on.

    Tuning out the guys, Y/n allowed herself the distraction Beverly provided with small talk. The two had been laughing about the day's events and Y/n had even begun to drift off. She hadn't realized how tired she was until she had lied down. After all, she had only gotten roughly three hours sleep the prior night and her limbs had grown exhausted from swimming all day, her leg especially.

    Unaware of how much time had passed, Y/n stirred awake when she realized the lyrics of Young MC's Bust A Move had slipped into her subconscious.

   "These here's a jam for all the fellas, Tryin' to do what those ladies tell us,"

    Stan, Richie, Ben and Bill look on in disbelief at the two beautiful girls sunbathing before them. How did this happen, they wondered.

   "Get shot down cause ya overzealous, Play hard to get females get jealous,"

    Eddie, who had yet to find a seat, stood frozen next to the guys. He blinked several times, trying desperately to look anywhere but their direction, Y/n especially, though he couldn't help but steal a few glances. An act he felt ashamed of.

   "Okay smarty, go to a party, Girls are scantily clad and showin' body"

    Y/n felt a yawn escape her and she covered her mouth with the back of her hand out of habit, her eyelids fluttering open. She had to squint, her eyes readjusting to the light and her stomach did a small flip when she felt several pairs of eyes in her direction.

    Timidly, she turned her head slightly to see the boys all staring at them. She felt her skin flush and she was sure she had turned pink, but the boys seemed even more mortified and they looked away, pretending not to have been staring at them.

    Beverly's attention was drawn by the noise of several throats clearing, and she was aware of how silent it had been. She tilted her head and made eye contact with Y/n, giving her a knowing look from behind her sunglasses accompanied by a small smirk.

    Y/n sat up, her bad leg stretched out and she pulled her other leg close to her chest, while Beverly had rolled on to her stomach. Richie began digging though Ben's stuff, holding a fake microphone to his face.

    "News flash, Ben," he was now speaking in his posh reporter persona. "School's out for summa!"

    "Oh, that?" Ben asked, looking at the evidence he had collected from the library. "That's not school stuff."

    Richie pulled out a postcard of Derry, a picture of the standpipe on the back. "Who sent you this?"

    Before he could read what was written on the other side, Ben had snatched it back. "No one. Give it..."

    Richie didn't think much of it, his attention fell to the blue folder sticking out of Ben's backpack and he eagerly pulled the folder out.

    He opened it up, Stan and Eddie peeking over his shoulder to take a look.

    "What's with the history project?" Eddie asked, curiously.

    "Oh," Ben shrugged looking around at the group who was now listening intently. "When I first moved her, I didn't have anyone to hang out with,"

    As Ben spoke, Richie handed the folder to Bill who had shown interest.

    "so I just started spending time in the library."

    "You went to the library?" Asked Richie, his face scrunched up in confusion. "On purpose."

    Y/n scoffed. "Don't listen to him Ben, he's just insecure that he can't read above a fourth grade level."

    She sent Richie and smirk and a wink, knowing full well of his intellectual capabilities. Something she had picked up in the year spent in class with him. He was in fact a very bright kid, despite his poor manners and his inability to not speak out of turn. Richie just rolled his eyes.

    "Well, I wanna see." Beverly got up from her spot on her towel and took a seat next to Bill.

    Stan had caught a glimpse of the scratchy handwriting on the old photograph Bill and Bev were looking at.

    "What's the Black Spot?" He asked.

     "The Black Spot was a nightclub that burned down years ago by that racist cult."

    "The what?"

    "Don't you watch Geraldo?"

    Y/n chuckled at the utter disbelief and surprise on Eddie's face and Richie met her eye, joining in. He was just about to give him more grief when the pair heard Bill begin speak.

    "Y-y-your hair..." He had been talking to Beverly, but Y/n couldn't help but listen in, curious herself to why her friend had cut it.

    Before he could finish, Ben jumped in and Beverly peered over to meet his eye. He smiled warmly at her.

    "Your... Your hair is beautiful, Beverly."

    Her face had been neutral throughout the entire exchange but she smiled politely at the boy, tucking a loose curl behind her ear.

    "Oh, right. Thanks."

    No one but Y/n seemed to notice the awkward looks exchanged between Ben and Bill, and her lips pressed into a firm line, feeling awkward having witnessed this herself.

    Richie, whose attention was still on the folder that was now going unread by Bill, gestured for it.

    "Here, pass it."

    Bill complied, folding it up and passed it back to Richie. Y/n used her hands to shift herself up onto her feet, walked over and took a seat across from Eddie, facing everyone in the group. Richie was now shifting through the folder, Stan leaning over his shoulder for a look.

    "Why is it all murders and missing kids?" Richie asked, passing the folder to Stan.

    Y/n, who had shifted off her bad leg, readjusting so she was leaning on her arms and her legs outstretched in front of her, was now listening intently to Ben.

    "Derry's not like any town I've ever been in before. They did a study once, and it turns out, people die or disappear six times the national average."

    Everyone had been listening, and the group all fell silent for a brief moment, a quiet shock falling over them. Bev was first to break the silence.

    "You read that?"

    Ben shifted on the rocks, ever so slightly, and nodded. "And that's just grown-ups. Kids are worse. Way, way worse."

    Y/n's eyes had fallen from Ben to the ground, where they trailed over to he bandaged ankle and she gulped.

    "I've got more stuff if you wanna see it." Ben offered.

    Eddie's gaze, which had been worriedly fixed on Y/n and the frowned etched on her face, was torn away to the others, shaking his head 'no' and hoping they didn't say yes.

    They did.

+++

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[writerwrites]

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Protégé to Bruce Banner, Rosemarie finds herself working closely with and befriending the Avengers. Friendship, lust, heartbreak, and so much more find her along this heartbreaking journey into new adulthood. Rosemarie discovers her self-worth and that home is where the heart is… she’ll just have to figure out what her heart is saying first.

Word Count: 7k

Warnings: Smut 18+, language, angst, fluff, language, ye ole slow burn, and eventually death, pregnancy, love triangle… or love adjacent to a triangle? It’s complicated.

playlist . masterlist

A/N: This WIP is intentionally made to ruin all of our lives with feels. You were warned. It’s just my writing style, but I use a name for the reader, in this case Rosemarie, so adjust your imaginations as you read, fam. Also, I do what I want, so don’t come at me for MCU canon timelines. The most notable YOLO in this series is that Bucky/Winter Soldier is an Avenger pre-Blip, Banner isn’t in space, and though there’s tension between the Tony and Cap ‘sides’ of the Sokovia Accords they’re all trying to work together. Avenging is not a main point to this story, but that’s the clarification I will give you. I hope you enjoy my first posted fic, leave a comment, review, message, etc.

Chapter 1: Let’s fall in love for the night...

--- STARK INDUSTRIES: THE TOWER; MIDTOWN MANHATTAN ---

“To the wolves,” Natasha whispered to Bruce as she pressed her fingers to his chest, stopping him from coming to his employee’s rescue. It wasn’t a malicious act, Nat had sized her up as ‘new to this’ and she wasn’t wrong. Rosemarie’s rapid ladder climbing in academia and internships had kept her barred from most parties. At first it was because she was underage, but even in her last year, most people found her intimidating or shy. Natasha glowed like a friend full of faith in a new puppy- or maybe it was the expensive brand name highlight on her cheekbones. “She’ll be fine. If you go to your little lab rat now then she’ll stick to you all night because you’re familiar. Let her have her moment. I’m sure she’s the last one of the three you invited that you’ll need to worry about.”

Bruce pursed his lips and looked down at Natasha’s mouth and her angled features that were made more accentuated through meticulous contouring. “Well, how can I say no to you when you show up in this dress, Jessica Rabbit?”

She leaned into his shoulder, her silky gloved hand sliding up his arm, and whispered in her sultry deep voice that sent shivers up down his spine, “Exactly, now dance with me, big guy.”

Though Rosemarie couldn’t hear what they were saying she watched her boss in his bright red pants and suspenders over a white button up being led to the dance floor. It took enough of her focus to keep her mouth off the floor. She never expected to see Dr. Banner smiling and maybe no one else did either because she’d made it deeper into the room seemingly unnoticed as everyone’s attention diverted to Nat and Bruce or back to their own conversations. The laughter and atmosphere was enough to make Rosemarie find her own small smile. Everyone donned costumes of varying extravagance, the music was at a low enough volume to welcome conversation, and as the songs changed she noticed it slipped between Halloween and pop music. Before she knew it, she’d breezed through the crowd toward the bar, invisible.

There wasn’t a single seat free at the bar and Rosemarie used her equivalent of a super power to keep slipping through the line along the bartop to it’s far corner where a couple was too busy flirting to notice her standing next to them, waiting to order a drink. The minutes ticked on and burning holes into the bartenders’ backs didn’t make them notice her. When her eyes moved up the bar, guessing who everyone was dressed as, Rosemarie felt the shock of the scene as people she had seen on television or read about during her research stood chatting just a few feet away. Swallowing at the dryness that settled in the back of her throat as she tried to pick apart their costumes and tell herself this wasn’t a big deal, that she’d even ‘met’ them during her Stark internship- albeit through a lab window. All of the chatting Avengers donned black suits with white shirts and black ties, some had sunglasses on and she smirked at her hands when she caught sight of Captain America and the notorious Winter Soldier’s suits added the accessory of fedoras.

Maybe she hadn’t realized she laughed out loud a little, but Rosemarie was caught in the act. Their blue eyes moved down the bar to the young doctor leaning against the wall still waiting to be noticed by the bartenders. The innocent chuckle caught in her mouth as her face warmed and her eyes fell to the surprisingly comfortable heels. Rosemarie’s brain raced, the sensation of eyes on her, of being seen, had her mind flitting from panic, to embarrassment, and even fleetingly to Natasha’s hands brushing along her leg. Despite no physical scarring, the heat in her cheeks felt like there were tallies adding up on her forehead marking this as three times more than she had been seen in years. Casually trying to look up under her lashes brought a new surprise, the group of suited men had dispersed just as quickly as she had noticed them. But then she heard it, a Brooklyn drawl that sounded like home. Then she felt it, the gentle brush of cold metal just above her elbow. Timidly, she looked up from those heels, polished boots standing toe-to-toe, and her eyes kept moving north up the stocky, six foot frame of the Winter Soldier. The white shirt was tight to his chest and just as she surveyed his neck, a shot was offered to her.

He broke the silence, pulling Rosemarie from her reverie “You looked like you were waiting a while.”

Looking graciously at the drink, now more than ever, she took it and looked into his bright blue gaze with a nod, “You’d be right in guessing that, Brooklyn.”

“Brooklyn?” He watched Rosemarie with curiosity as she took the shot, wondering why she’d called him that, but she offered no explanation. “What am I supposed to call you?”

With the burn in her throat from the smooth tequila, she found a new fleeting liquid-confidence. “Natasha won’t be happy if her Snow White ensemble isn’t instantly pin-pointable, sir.”

“Well, Snow, what can we do to get you out of this corner and have a little fun with us tonight?” His blue gaze looks innocent enough, Rosemarie decides, but his thoughts are anything but- a game already in play amongst the suited men.

“You’ve already done it.” Before she can banter any more, his vibranium fingers took hers and he brushed her past strangers toward the Avengers, maneuvering her curvy frame through the room with ease.

“Snow, the boys,” Smiling and quite literally looking up at everyone, the doctor realized the soldier hadn’t yet dropped her hand, but just as quickly as she had that thought, he’d left her hand cold and empty. Rosemarie reached out to shake everyone's hands in a whirlwind of greetings as she tried to remember the few first names she wasn’t familiar with. “You’ll have a hard time remembering some of our names if you’re going to stick with your current system. Steve Rogers, also Brooklyn.”

Steve’s grip was surprisingly gentle, giving you one firm shake before his fingertips brushed your palm and let you go. A stark contrast to Thors’ which had been strong, and Rhodey and Clint’s which were fleeting and polite. Rosemarie choked on the air leaving her lungs as she tried to keep her cool, feeling the Brooklyn boys’ blue eyes still watching her as a charming man you knew as ‘Falcon’ leaned in front of them, “Sam or, if we’re being technical- the one and only Agent J.”

Rosemarie listened to the cadence in Sam’s voice and guessed Harlem, but bit her tongue, smiled and nodded. “Men in Black, classic choice, but these two…” she pointed between the two super soldiers, “Are the Brooklynites the Blues Brothers this evening?” The smirks that lit up the two men’s faces gave her an indication that she’d gotten it right and, as much as she wanted to keep looking, there was something fun in this game of being in a circle of lethal and exceptionally attractive people, though she was positive she wouldn’t hold their attention long. “Now you three,” her gaze panned over the remaining suits and then between them at the minglers nearby. With a sigh she shook her head, “You’ll have to tell me.”

“Reservoir Dogs.” It was Clint who shrugged it off with a confident smirk. “Tony’s idea, but I think he just wanted to see who looked best in a suit.” His hazel eyes moved over Rosemarie’s shoulder, “It was nice to meet you, kiddo, I’ve got to get back to-” With a clap on her shoulder Hawkeye walked past you and through the barrier of soldiers at your back.

Rhodey was quick to follow, mentioning his night was all about business and politely excuses himself as Rosemarie looked at her heels and tried not to take offense to having so quickly cleared out the room. She put her smile back on, trying to brush it off and to brush off the ‘kiddo’ comment, too. “So, Brooklyn mentioned something about you all being where the fun is tonight?” Pivoting, she closed the gap that Clint and Rhodey’s absence had made in their little group. 

“I mean, we are, I don’t know about the two fossils.” Sam laughed as he drank his beer, a clear buzz already going.

“Just because we can’t get wasted doesn’t mean we are any less fun than you idiots. Besides, someone has to babysit the Asgardian and the college rambler.” The Winter Soldier’s words were honest with a twinge of annoyance but Steve clutched his shoulder and smiled. “We’re wondering who you think we all should be dancing with.”

Her thoughts were on who could be the ‘college rambler’ and the request. An actual laugh passing her lips that bordered a scoff, but she looked around and gave it her best shot. “Thor maybe with the brunette over there talking to the lady agent with Mr. Fury.” Tilting her chin up she saw the corner of his mouth turn up into a smirk as he took his hand out of his pockets and smacked a handshake into Sam’s hand.

“I bet he’d be more upset if it wasn’t Sif. I swear those two have been harboring feelings for each other since…” Sam laughed and shrugged. “All right, matchmaker, not a bad start. Who’s next?”

Swallowing, she looked around the room. There were plenty of women standing around chatting to other women, but one beautiful woman looked around the room with an expression all too relatable to Rosemarie’s. “Sam, what about the petite cutie with the marg by Nat?”

Taking his hands out of his pockets, Sam clapped Steve on the shoulder and shook his hand. An odd gesture, Rosemarie fleetingly thought, but before her eyebrows could even draw together in confusion the soldiers looked at each other and Cap, shaking his head, told him, “That’s Thor’s ex, Jane.” His head tilted at the young doctor in front of him. “Isn’t she working with you and Banner?”

With a shrug, you looked over again, Sam leaning on the table and Nat rolling her eyes, Jane clearly trying not to make direct eye contact. “Well, I’m clearly no matchmaker, so I hope that if she’s working with me that Sam doesn’t actually tell her what I did.”

“Don’t take it too hard, most of the regulars have at least gone on a date with Tony and everyone else has done God knows what with at least one other person in the room.” Steve shrugged, offering a gentle smile before bringing his beer to his lips and pulling his eyes from her.

“Okay, we won’t force you into playing our little game anymore, so it’s our turn then.” Rosemarie looked up at the two remaining Avengers, but their eyes were on each other and then out through the crowd.

“What about Pete?” Steve suggested, nodding toward a somewhat familiar face.

It took a moment before she could place him. “He’s a college student interning for Stark, isn’t he?” Her eyebrows drew together with uncertainty. If she remembered his story from the one conversation they’d had, he was a savant like herself. “He’s a bit young, isn’t he?”

“Aren’t you?”

“I’m old enough to drink.” She nipped back at the boys, her own Brooklyn accent thick.

“All right, what do we have here? The beginnings of a joke, surely. Two cavemen and the apprentice of Yoda walk into a bar…” The clap of hands and quippy attitude were quick to place.

Steve greeted him tight lipped with a single nod. “Tony.”

“Cap. Barnes. I see you’ve met my former intern and young doctor of neuroscience that is leading one of Banner’s teams at BST. Doctor...,” He trailed off, either to let her introduce herself or to remind him of her name.

Regardless of whatever game Stark was trying to play, her non-confrontational nature made her quick to smile, nod, and shrug off the introductions, “I’m just Snow tonight.”

Tony’s head tilted to the side and both super soldiers failed to hide their amusement. “Y’know, I see why Pepper likes you.” As if hearing her name made her ears tingle, Pepper slipped in at his side, offered up a wave to the group, whispering into his ear and pulled him along as her black dress ghosted the pristine floor, a perfect replica of Hepburn’s Givenchy gown from Breakfast at Tiffany’s. But as he passed her he whispered in her ear, “Don’t get too caught up with these troublemakers, kiddo.”

Needless to say, Rosemarie knew they’d heard it when she caught their jaws clenching and she groaned. “I make decisions for myself, thanks.” Brazenly, she grabbed both their hands, “Back to the bar, Brooklynites. I think we all could use a drink.” It amazed her how, with a look, three people gave up seats for them. “So, back to this horrible job you gentlemen were doing at a setup, care to try again while I enjoy this?” She lifted the shot, throwing it back after they did the same, and then made an order for an actual drink. Her attention wasn’t on them, unaware of the looks they gave each other, their gaze panning the room. “Giving up on the impossible mission, boys?”

“Impossible?” Steve laughed.

“Giving up?” Bucky scoffed.

“It’s all right. I did what Nat and Bruce needed, a quick show of my face and day one of the new job is done.” She shrugged, sipping on her drink.

“Day one?” They’d asked in unison.

“Yup.” She nodded, polishing off the drink, a sudden urge to make the most of the night now settling into her bones and she slipped off the chair, the Winter Soldier’s vibranium hand reaching over to quickly help Rosemarie steady.

“... and you’re at a Halloween party instead of celebrating with friends?” Steve pressed his lips together, trying to hide a look of pity.

“Don’t.” She grimaced in a whisper, a slight sadness in her eyes as they met Steve’s. “It’s a party. Dancing, that’s what we’re supposed to be doing right?”

The pulse of the song felt familiar, even if she didn’t know the words. Rosemarie’s hips swayed side to side, arms up like the music was pumping and she was home alone dancing Bachata. Forgetting about the peak of skin that the crop top exposed in doing so, she felt the heat rise in her body when both of them swallowed. Her eyes fluttered closed and she kept dancing. Eyes closed, ignoring the initial eyes on her or that Nat had pulled Bruce to the floor and Pepper, Tony before the majority of chattering conversations ceased and the floor filled with laughter as a new tune thumped on.

The gentle sensation of a hand on her hips made her eyes open and Rosemarie gasped to see Natasha swaying with one hand behind her on Bruce’s neck and the other on her hip. “How much have you had to drink? I definitely didn’t think you’d be the one to start the fun tonight.”

“Surprise?” She tried to laugh, “Not much, promise.” The comment was directed at Bruce who didn’t seem bothered either way. “We’ve got work in the morning. I wanted to have a little fun and appreciate the invitation before heading back home.”

“Already?” Nat pouted.

“Brooklyn, baby! It’s about forty minutes home.”

Rosemarie watched Nat’s hand pull away from her as she slowly stopped dancing. “Then I guess we’ll just have to drag you out sometime. You seem like you’re getting along with everyone, right?” Her green eyes looked over the doctor’s shoulder back to the bar. “Get this one home safe. She’s headed that way.” Just as Rosemarie was about to protest, Nat wiggled a finger.

It seemed like a fruitless thing to argue, but in her mildly buzzed state she lacked the energy to fight or to realize that in a tidy little pile in a limestone on the Upper East Side bathroom were her keys, clothes, and badge. With a nod and a quick goodnight, she headed toward the elevator, weaving effortlessly through the crowd with a smile on her face. As the doors dinged open she could feel the presence of the two men on either side of her. “You don’t have to, guys. It’s Brooklyn, been there my whole life. I can handle myself. Hell, you see how easily I walk through this room. I’m Harry Potter in the restricted section twenty-four, seven.”

Neither of them seemed to catch the reference, following her into the elevator. Steve broke the uncomfortable silence, “I’m not much for partying and he’s not much for groups without me.”

“Now, you’ll have to pick your poison because we both rode motorcycles here.” Rosemarie crossed her arms stubbornly at his comment. Crossing her arms after hitting the main floor’s button, he realized she wasn’t going to cave. “All right, looks like we’ll have to do this the old school way. Three out of five?”

“That should get us to the main floor.” Laughing like schoolboys, they played rock-paper-scissors, the doors opening, and Rosemarie ducking under their hands to get out.

“So who won the honor of a very long chaperoning adventure?” She asked as they reached two motorcycles in the parking garage.

“Go on, Buck. I’ll see you back home later.” Steve’s face was warmer, a genuine look of happiness on his face as he clapped a hand to his friend’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “C’mere Snow, let’s get a helmet on you.”

“It’s Rosemarie, actually.”

“She speaks!” Bucky got on his bike, his own helmet secure and the engine purring. “Pretty name, doll. Bit of a mouthful, but maybe it suits you.”

“I used to be called Rorie when I was little.” She rubbed her hands nervously in front of her as she also listened to Steve telling her how to get on the bike. He even took her hand to help her as she swung her leg over. “Good night, Steve. I guess I’ll be seeing you around.”

Tilting his head to meet her eye, he smiled, the kind of warm smile where it met his eyes and made creases in the corner. “I hope so.”

And with that farewell, the engine was revved and Rosemarie lurched forward in fear. Her arms wrapping to the best of her ability around the suited soldier, taking in fist fulls of his shirt when she couldn’t fully hold on to him. His vibranium hand covered her, his hand patting hers as she hid her face into his back. It took her a minute, but he let her get used to the chill of the wind on her arms and legs, the stop and go of the city’s red lights, and the proximity to a man she hardly knew. When she finally plucked up the courage to look up they were halfway to Brooklyn. Her right arm stretched out and she flipped up the visor to the helmet, letting out a laugh and cheer as they zipped through Queens Midtown Tunnel. His vibranium hand patted hers and though she couldn’t see it, she thought he was smiling too.

It wasn’t until they reached Brooklyn’s limits and her racing heart settled into a calmer cadence that he pulled over at a red light and flipped up his own visor. Exasperated, she pouted and gently tapped her helmet to his, “Don’t stop driving!”

Then he laughed, just like he had with Steve, and explained himself, “You’ve got to tell me where you live eventually.” It took a moment, a fleeting thought that it would be easier to show him the address on her ID than to try and shout over the sound of the bike through a helmet, that she realized she’d been to caught up tonight to remember her clothes, lab coat and badge, keys, and even her phone were in Bruce and Natasha’s house. He could tell something wasn’t right, pivoting on the bike to get a better look at her. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“My keys are on the damn Upper East Side.”

Laughing again, the man simply shook her head. “That’s fine, we can get it later. What’s the address?”

--- ROSEMARIE’S UNIT ON E 22ND ST; BROOKLYN ---

She didn’t get it at first, but with their feet in front of the triple locked tiny fourth floor apartment, he squatted, took something out of his coat pocket, and within twenty seconds the door was opened, no sign of invasion. “Wow. You’re good with your hands.” Her cheeks were bright red as she slipped past him into the pitch black apartment. “Thank you so much, Mr. Barnes.”

He cringed and shook his head, “Bucky, please- or even Brooklyn or Barnes. Never James, never Mister Barnes or Mister anything-else, and preferably no Winter Soldier, either. Just Bucky.”

“Have it your way, Bucky.” She gave him a nod to come in while she leaned against the door, a warm smile on her face as the liquor was quickly leaving her system and the little flirtations had no gray area. “Let me make up this coerced escort nonsense for you.”

“Are you sure, Rosemarie? I thought you had work in the morning.” His blue eyes looked down at her, trying to read her expression as he tried to decide if he was being propositioned and if going in was a good idea.

“I’m sure.” With a laugh she tugged on his hands, his entire frame completely immobile in the hall. “Come keep me company and we'll have snackies!”

Bucky nodded, stepping into her home with clear eyes and a sense of expectation that she’d drawn a line about where the night would lead. She flicked on light after light, the room filling with a warm honey-white glow that illuminated the books, art, pictures, scattered around the room and hanging on the walls. “This is nice.”

Her head popped up from behind the refrigerator door, her eyes falling on the man that looked obscenely too broad for the space. “Do you mean the apartment or the picture?” Rosemarie saw his blue gaze studying a painting on the wall, “It’s a painting of Roraima in...”

“The borders of Venezuela, Brazil, and Guyana.”

“Yeah… I want to go someday. It was my brother’s last painting.” She swallowed and looked down at the peanut butter and nutella sandwiches she was making, reminding herself to catch her breath. It’s not like he hasn’t travelled all over the world. It’s not like he really cares about where you want to travel to. He definitely doesn’t care about your crazy family.

“You should go, it’s one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever seen.” He smiled at the painting and came to the kitchen counter, noticing the crease in her forehead as she made their late night snack. “Do you want to talk about him?”

She shrugged, both surprised by the question and uncertain of her needs colliding with her personal baggage. Instead, Rosemarie slid the plate of four half-sandwich triangles toward him and then added two spoons to the plate before tucking a pint of Ben & Jerry’s Cinnamon Buns ice cream and two bottles of hard cider under her arms. “He’s the one that used to call me Rorie. He couldn’t really get Rosemarie out and my parents hated it when people mispronounced it as rosemary.” It felt like a simple enough gateway to let her try to gauge his interest. After flopping onto the couch and nodding to the spot next to her he joined her, setting the food on the coffee table and taking one of the ciders. “I think they’re twist off caps?” She struggled, cheeks red with embarrassment, but Bucky used his vibranium hand to flick the cap off before doing the same with his. “Oh, so that’s what the hand is for.”

“Among other things.” They shared a soft laugh and he watched her kick off the heels and pick up the gaming controller, talking to the television as it popped up with the Netflix logo at her commands. “What are we watching?”

Tossing him the remote she grabbed a slice of the sandwiches and pulled her knees to her chest. Taking a big bite, the hazelnut and peanut butter coated her mouth and she let out a satisfied hum. “Brooklyn's choice.” A second big bite and another hum and Bucky’s curiosity got the better of him, clicking the first film on her recommended list to snag a slice for himself. A deeper, similar hum passing his lips made Rosemarie squirm in her seat. She washed it down with the cider. “Right? Comfort snackies are the best late night food.” Rosemarie turned to look at the super soldier taking up two thirds of the love seat to find the hazelnut spread in the scruff of his overgrown stubble. With liquid courage pulsing in her veins she leaned in slightly and brushed it away with her thumb, but not courageous enough to meet his piercing blue eyes. Heart thumping in her ears, she whispered, “I forgot to grab a napkin.”

Bucky’s full lips wrapped around her thumb, his eyes unblinking as hers went wide. The soldier didn’t give her a chance to act on flight, his arm wrapping around her waist and pulling her onto his lap as she whimpered at the sensation of his tongue sliding up her finger. “Aren’t you just starved for attention.”

He wasn’t wrong. It had been six months since she’d been with anyone and that was a one night stand with a stranger from a bar and longer still since someone had been inside her. She’d taken herself out to celebrate finishing school and someone told her she had the perfect body. Rosemarie squirmed in his lap thinking about the way their hands had worshiped her curves and their mouth had set her off. It was one of just a couple of encounters. All of them paled in comparison to having the broad shouldered and bright eyed man holding her close. “I..It’s…”

The man smirked at how flustered she was, His fingers moving from a firm grip holding her waist to brushing up her back as he finished the snack in one final big bite. He almost looked childish if it hadn’t been for the look in his eyes, pupils blown and the corner of his mouth turned up. “Complicated? Doesn’t have to be, Sugar.”

Sugar, the word was sweeter in the subtle hints of his accent, a dated term of endearment that wasn’t typical in any non-condescending modern usage, she thought. This wasn’t how intentional. He wasn’t even on her radar and as he drank his cider and watched her, she climbed off his lap and slowly unbuttoned the yellow shorts, stopping before she pushed them down because her little panicked mental monologue found her again. He doesn’t really want you. He just wants to get laid. Maybe I just want that, too? This is never going to happen again, so calm down, focus, enjoy the moment. But the ice cream on the table is going to melt and leave a water ring from condensation... Then his hands were on her hips, pulling her legs closer by tugging on the loose fabric of the shorts before he wiggled them down her legs.

His now empty bottle set to the side, Bucky looked up at her as he leaned forward and pressed his full lips to her hips. The warmth of his mouth and the sting of cool from the wet mark he’d left after it met the air felt as starkly contrasted as the warmth and the cold of his two hands. Nibbling on her bottom lip, he kissed the other side and questioned her demeanor. “What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?” Letting his fingers rake up her back and under the crop top, Bucky used his superior senses to interpret what she wasn’t saying. Rosemarie now realized just how small she was next to him, her pulse thumping with a far more vibrant cadence than when he’d taken her finger into his mouth. Now his own fingers rubbed her back and moved south, pushing her panties to the floor before coming back up to take off the crop top too. But he didn’t gawk or let his eyes wander, he just drank in the smell of hazelnut and peanut butter on her breath, the faint smell of honey and apricots from her morning shower, and the heat rising in her cheeks. “Where have you been the last ninety-nine years, Rorie?”

Swallowing down the nickname, she brought her hands to his tie, “Should I be flattered or creeped out about this age gap?” Nervously giggling she loosened the silky bit of black fabric, watching it ruffle into the mess of her own clothes half on the floor and half on the couch. She felt his muscles through the pressed fabric of his shirt until they ghosted along the top of his slacks and as she looked at his neck, still too anxious to meet his gaze, Rosemarie chewed on the inside of her cheek. Nerves, she was nothing but nerves on fire. When she undid his belt with shaking hands, his hands left hers to quickly undo the buttons of the dress shirt. It was a frantic and rapid dance to get him just as naked as she was and her nervous laughter abated into a whimper. The zipper went down exposing black boxer briefs and with her thumbs in the elastic and she pushed it down, just as he’d done to her, just enough to make his clothes fall to the floor. “This seems entirely unfair.”

He let her eyes move down his body, his chest rising and falling at steady pace, though obvious that he was taking deeper breaths. Rosemarie rested her forehead on his sternum, drinking in the toned muscles that met the cut of his hips, the hulking lines of his thighs, and then at last the bulk of his cock. She didn’t hide her fear from him well at all, completely certain she’d never be able to handle the size of the solid man. His hands went to her neck, hot and human, cold and robotic, and that tender tilt up of her chin, forcing her eyes to look into his, she knew that he knew. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. If you feel like I…”

“Bucky.” She interrupted, breathing sharply. Before her mind in all its anxious sadness could torment her back into silence she managed to whisper, “Of course I want you. I’m scared, not an idiot.” Leaning up, her lips brushed his, so close to kissing him, she made her request. “Please, gently.”

Of all the stories she had heard, she didn’t know if he was capable of it until he kissed her. Her soft lips were met with his, hungry and forceful and then, just before she could flinch, his tongue parted her lips and the kiss became subdued. Bucky knew what he was doing, teasing her with the passion she was missing out on while enticing her with the promise of giving her what she’d asked for. Her demure little touches of her fingers avoiding all his most sensitive areas made him moan against her lips. The man couldn’t help but wonder if she was intentionally teasing him in return. His lips left hers, trailing wet kisses down her neck and across her breasts. Bucky flicked his tongue across her nipples, hiding his smirk in her ribs at the squirm of her hips under his hands when he gave them no more attention and sat back on the couch. She was so close to pouting, protesting, and pleading, but his hands moved down her curves and tugged at the soft flesh at the back of her thighs, pulling her onto the couch to straddle him. 

Rosemarie rocked her hips forward, pressing his length against his stomach and her clit. The groan that came from the back of Bucky’s throat had her dripping and as she continued grinding against him while they kissed, she could feel herself dripping down her thighs and onto him. His kisses were patient but the longer she kept teasing him, feeling her skin heat beneath his touch, Bucky began to rut his hips compulsively. Her finger tips dug into his shoulder and neck as the tight coil of her climax built in her belly before any part of him had even been inside her. Slowly she lifted herself and he looked into her eyes knowing what she was finally ready and asking for, confirmed by her lip biting and head nodding as she lowered herself onto him.

Bucky let her take him in, slow but keening. He could tell how badly she needed to do this on her own, quiet gasps between tongue tangled kisses as every inch of him stretched her. He savored those little sounds, they only made it harder for him not to thrust completely inside her. His mind was in a fog, intoxicated by the smell of her, the shake in her legs, even the way her body reacted to the cool metal of his weapon brushing her hair from her face. She’d turned into it, briefly pulling her lips from Bucky’s to put her burning cheeks to his palm and she knew he could kill her just as much as she felt it in her gut, he wouldn’t. She’d been in love just once before and never been looked at like this and just as she’d thought that his kisses stopped and his hands held her still and he asked her, “What’s that look?”

Rosemarie pressed her lips to Bucky’s metal wrist and his expression was just as unreadable as hers had been seconds earlier, “What’s that look?” Her playful feedback of the same question was far less focused, each word a breathy whimper as the sudden lack of affection made her all the more eager to be full of him. The doctor swayed her hips in small circles, calling out in her native tongue as their thighs met and he hit every spot, stretching her out.

“Fuck. Fuck you’re so tight.” The timbre in Bucky’s voice made her squeeze around him and he clutched her hips to stop her from moving for fear that the evening would be short lived. He pressed his forehead to her shoulder and she caressed his back and did the same, the salt on his skin coating her lips. They listened to each other breathing and Rosemarie began a slow ride, relishing the sounds of his pleasure. “Good girl,” the words were whispered in her ear - a stark contrast from his grunting just seconds earlier, his teeth brushed her earlobe, and then his hands squeezed her ass as he met her pace with repeat eye watering thrusts.

The English language failed her, pleading for more and pleasantly surprised when he understood. Bucky’s pace stayed the same, but each thrust was deep and then deeper. Her fingers tangled in his dark hair and pulled until his mouth was back on hers. The small apartment echoed with the bawdy sounds of moaning pleasure and skin on skin, all of her muscles began to tighten as he brought her to the edge. Leaning back slightly with a hand on his knee and the other on the couch Bucky accepted the invitation to access more of her body. His tongue drew circles around her hard nipples and his thumb massaged her clit. The slow build to the first orgasm had been worthwhile and obscenely wet, they could feel her pouring down their legs and soaking the couch. Immediately, her entire body shook and her face was bright right, her eyes apologetic. “I’m sorry, that… that’s never happened before and…”

A soft hush passed his lips and he pushed back inside of her, finding a new rhythm as her muscles reacted, milking every thick inch of him. “You’re sexy, beautiful, smart, and…” he swallowed, his thrusts became erratic, and maybe it was the compliments or an instinct he was close but Rosemarie couldn’t help herself, bouncing up and down on him, and every time he bottomed out she practically danced for him, grinding on him for friction to her clit. “Don’t stop.” He was the one panting and begging now. “Good girl, beautiful. Just like that.”

All the positive praise as his eyes stayed on her wide hips and full breasts made the woman question if this was how sex was supposed to be. The curves she only liked in certain outfits, now being drunk in like a missing Van Gogh. She got off on it, her body still reeling from her first orgasm and Bucky rutted into her as she gave him his. Lost in the moment, they held each other tightly, his cock filling her until he dripped his own mess onto the furniture. But despite the new exhaustion and how her tired body draped over him, he was still hard and she was still hungry. “More.”

The whimpered plea was met with his strong arms holding her as he walked down the short hall opening the first door to find it was the bathroom and then the second, her bedroom. Her legs were too tired to wrap around him and the tips of her toes tickled their way across the floor until he pulled her on top of him on her bed that was obscenely small for a man of his size, let alone two people. “Rorie, you should get some sleep.”

She bit the muscle of his flesh arm. “You’re still inside me, Barnes.” Her lips moved across his skin, nipping at his ribs before trailing her tongue along the toned muscles to his other arm, where she placed a kiss and settled her head. Her dark hair was unruly as it draped across him, his own no better on her bedsheets. Though breathless, she managed a feeble argument. “You can’t just bring me to bed, be inside me, look like this, and not keep going until I’m unconscious.”

He laughed, not maliciously but rather out of shock at how sleep impacted her candor more than alcohol had and all Rosemarie could think was there’s nothing more beautiful than you. It was written all over her face, but he missed it, his eyes closed as he laughed, and maybe he’d never believe it if he had. She couldn’t help herself, kissing every inch of his skin that she could without moving a muscle, savoring her legs tangled in his. “If you want me to put you to bed, there’s more than one way to do that.”

“But only one way I really want you tonight.”

“Tonight? There are other ways you want me on other nights…”

“Mmmhm, Friday night? You free?”

“It’s a date, sweetheart.” The banter was sleepy, but Bucky’s hips were already lifting off the mattress and his arm around her waist pinned her there to take each eager thrust.

What had started slow and sweet, evolved into deep and needy, now found an impassioned second wind. He worshiped her mouth, the tip of his tongue brushing across the roof and before he could have the audacity to take it from her, she nipped, and caressed his tongue with hers. Then Rosemarie worshiped his chest, arms, and stomach; pushing against him as she rocked her hips with every movement across his skin. He gave it to her again, deep thrusts, fervent even, and he pulled her mouth to his. “Good girl! So eager for another orgasm. Been a while since someone gave this pretty pussy the attention it deserves?” Her tired frame dropped slowly over him and he held her close on top of him, one hand brushing her hair as he still pinned her down at the waist as he claimed her. “I hear those tired moans, Sugar. I’m gonna put you to bed real soon. I want to hear it one more time. Say my name, roll those soft hips against me and say it.”

Her bedsheets were held in her fists, anything for further friction. They both got it and as she tightened around him she begged, sticky with sweat, sore and breathless, and still wanting. “Come with me, Bucky. I want to feel you throbbing inside me again. Bucky. Buck,” she was so close, panting, “Buck, don’t stop.”

Bucky tangled himself in her and gave her what she begged for, finishing deep inside of Rosemarie as her legs shook around him and her arms gave out, every muscle in her body vibrating. “Good girl. Now close those pretty eyes and get some sleep, okay?”

Though she nodded sleepily, her head almost incapable of being picked up from his chest, she mustered final exhausted chatter, “One last kiss and a promise you’ll stay?”

Again, he granted her request and she hummed at the sensation of his scruff on his chin. He smiled, satisfied, and finding her quiet verbalization of pleasure a sweet surprise he changed his mind about slipping out as soon as she fell asleep. “I’ll stay a bit, sweetheart. I gotta get your stuff from Nat’s before you have to head to work, but I’ll be here when you get up.”

She yawned, the word stay a soft echoing plea in her head that never passed her lips. Bucky reached over and pulled the blankets across them as Rosemarie already started to shiver. Typically he found the serum’s endurance enhancement’s side effect of insomnia infuriating, but tonight he was grateful for it. Watching her sleep in his arms like she needed him, clinging to his body every time he sighed or moved an inch. Then, despite usually only needing a few hours of shut eye a week, he drifted off into an unheard of peaceful, dreamless sleep. The last thing on his lips was a kiss to her temple and on his mind, no idea how he’d make it to Friday.

INTRO . CHAPTER 2 (Coming Soon!)

Taglist: @caplanbuckybarnes​

[durrzerker]

Taskmaster: The Line. Chapter 5: Secrets

The old Masters of Evil headquarters was still intact. It had not burned down, been bombed, or been swarmed by supervillains. There weren't even rats in the walls.

That was the totality of the good news.

Everything else, in summary, had completely gone to shit.

It was a ragged party that crossed the threshold of Baron Zemo's former home. Laura and Black Ant were leading the pack by now, as they were the only ones who weren't limping or nearly collapsing with exhaustion. Black Ant had caught up with the group shortly after shrinking down to escape the chaos that he had spawned during the Bagalia Freedom Festival, and it was a good thing, too; Akeja had silently collapsed a quarter mile from the gargantuan mansion, and the other children weren't faring much better. Carrying Akeja and Mara across his shoulders like a pair of sandbags, Eric had been uncharacteristically silent as they stopped in the dank foyer of the abandoned building. "Amazing no one's taken this place over yet," he finally said.

"They've been trying." Taskmaster was favoring his wounded rib a bit more now; without time to rest and with the increasingly desperate pace that they had set to finish out their journey, he was in a good deal of pain himself. "I hadn't decided what to do with the place, so I've been letting ol' Tessie clear them out to keep her weapons in good shape. An idling warbot is..." He trailed off; he couldn't even finish the joke. The spot where Laura had stabbed him was throbbing in the way only an adamantium blade could, the same way it had when she'd gored his hand a year back. It was like every nerve had been cut in half with molecular precision. Pulling off his dirty cloak and setting it into a pile against the wall, he collapsed against it. "Role call..."

Laura, whose healing factor at least allowed her to remain in peak shape, set Malakai down on a huge old Corinthian leather couch. "Everyone's here. I've been keeping track. You don't look so good, Taskmaster."

"No shit? Maybe it's because you fucking stabbed me." He wasn't mad about it. Really.

"I'm not going to feel guilty about that," Laura replied, her ears visibly burning. "You had done nothing to warrant the benefit of the doubt, and you left Black Ant behind to ambush me."

"I left him behind to ambush the person -stalking- us," Tony countered. "How was I supposed to know it was you? How long had you even been following us, anyways? Didn't you see us -helping- the fucking kids?" Tony closed his eyes behind his mask, even as he argued. To Laura, it still looked like the ghoulish visage was staring her down.

"...Truth be told, yes. But from where I was, it just looked like you were fighting over them -- and you did crash their vehicle."

Tony could tell that she didn't like when she had to try and get a bead on how he was feeling. The man's airtight costume blocked his scent from her, and he could alter his body language whenever he liked; it was one of his most useful skills, the kind that wasn't as obvious to people as other applications of his photographic reflexes.

"Well, whatever," Tony replied with a grunt. "The Hub's agent ain't here and I need to sleep, alright? Wake me up when they arrive -- I think we could all use a little rest."

"I don't think we should..." Laura pursed her lips and stopped when she heard the crinkling of a wrapper behind her. Eric had finally found use for his remaining honey buns he'd swiped earlier. He was passing them out to the assorted Scions, who had piled together on the couch in the living room. While Akeja had gone right to sleep, the others' hunger had won out - they voraciously assaulted the treats with the kind of shamelessness only starvation could inspire. "...Yeah, alright. Only for awhile though, Masters." She turned around and headed towards the kitchen with that, likely to look for more food for the children.

Tony watched her go, but before she'd even made it out of the living room, the mercenary had passed out. He dreamed of the Scion children.

--

He was in the middle of some kind of nightmare in which all six of the children were surrounding him, throwing accusations that he couldn't understand in their unique language. He wasn't quite sure exactly when he woke up, because when he did, the children were arguing loudly in that same tongue.

"Hey, hey!" Eric called out. "Come on, people are trying to sleep here -- namely my very ill-tempered partner."

"Fuck you, Man of Ants!" Shouted the sixth child that Tony had never heard speak yet, and now it was evident why; a girl with red hair and a deeply thick brogue, she was barely understandable even when trying her best. "Y'think ginna scrap o'fud makeus even?! Not a'er what you did, nay, him neither!"

What him and Eric did...? Taskmaster didn't move from where he was, kept his breathing slow. His perfect control of his body's actions came in handy here -- especially when Laura joined the conversation, returning to the living room to figure out what the big screaming match was about. "What's going on? What -did- you two do, O'Grady...?"

"It's none of your business, Wolverine." Eric's voice was surprisingly serious, more harsh than almost any time that Tony had heard it before. "If these brats really want to tell you, I can't stop them; but I'm not turning on him like that."

There was a pause. Tony opened his eyes, opting to keep his mask's optics dimmed in the process; all part of how he could easily pretend that he wasn't paying attention, even to Wolverine's highly enhanced senses. Laura was pacing, glancing to the gathered children and then stopping before Eric. "I'm going to get to the bottom of this one way or the other, but I'm curious; why -do- you do this, O'Grady?"

"What do you mean?" He snapped back defensively.

"Why do you follow Taskmaster? I've seen your relationship. You call yourself his partner, but he treats you more like a sidekick. You were an Avenger once; you were a hero, even if you had your problems. Why follow a jerk like Masters?"

Clearly trying to deflect, Black Ant turned away from her. "Keep your voice down, huh? You're gonna wake him up."

"He's completely passed out. I'd be able to hear it if he was up."

Realizing he wasn't going to get out of this, Black Ant hesitated, then explained, "Look...you don't know him like I do. I -don't- follow Taskmaster."

"But--"

"--Stop. You want to know? Then let me talk." Eric stepped forward, accusingly prodding her in the chest. "I don't follow Taskmaster, I follow -Tony-. Even when he trained me back with the Initiative, I could tell something was different about him compared to other supervillains. He -got- what it was like, you know? To want to do one thing, but to feel drawn to another. Then, when I was with the Secret Avengers, I found out about everything...his memory problems. His -wife-."

"He's got a WIFE?" Laura nearly shouted, then covered her mouth. Taskmaster's breath nearly hitched, giving him away. It took all of his self-control to maintain the illusion that he was asleep, doubly so when Eric turned to look his way.

"Yeah, he does; and he doesn't even know it. It's The Hub. You know, the lady who's supposed to be sending our fucking -help-? The way his powers work, every time he copies someone new, like he did to get your stupid foot claws, he loses everything else. As far as most people are concerned, Taskmaster's all that's left; the mercenary, the guy who will kidnap anyone or fight anyone for hire; but when you work with him like I do, you -see- him every day...it becomes obvious that ain't the case."

"Bullshit," Maya snapped, sounding wounded.

"...It's true," Eric insisted. "Look, don't get me wrong! Tony -- not Taskmaster -- isn't a saint. I'm not saying he's some kind of heroic good guy underneath it all. But you don't realize how -easy- he goes on you fucking people," the mercenary accused, glaring at Laura as he started to anxiously pace in a circle. "Did you know that? He'd rather let himself get stabbed through the hand than actually risk really hurting you, because even though -he- doesn't understand it...this is self-flagellation. He's punishing himself every time he takes a job, and his fucking wife LETS him! He doesn't know any better! He's in...factory settings, as he calls it!"

Falling silent for a moment, Laura pressed her hand to her mouth in thought. When she finally responded, her tone was somber and disbelieving in equal measure. She wasn't buying this at all. "So, what. You're saying he wasn't -trying- when he attacked my sisters and I? He shot them in the head!"

"No, I'm saying that he was trying -- to commit suicide by superhero. Look...I've seen him when pressed, okay? He does -not- go down easy, and there's a reason that he's actually feared so much in Bagalia. He doesn't half-ass it here; you piss him off, you're dead. You do something he finds distasteful, you're dead. If you were watching us, you saw how we shut down that Jason Waterfalls jerkoff. He'd never fight like that against you, against Spider-Man, against any of you 'hero' types." Slumping down onto the couch, planting his palms against either side of his helmet, Eric took it off. A mess of unruly red hair, a to-the-atom perfect replica of the appearance of his original body. Tony knew that he'd often questioned if he was the 'real' Eric, or some kind of facsimile created in his image. Tony had always argued the former, maybe against his better senses. He just wasn't sure that he himself liked the alternative. Was that selfish? He considered it before focusing his attention on his partner's continued speaking.

"I've seen him pin his boot to Captain America's face. He had him dead to rights. But when the time came, he didn't finish the job, even though he could have. And if you corner him about it, he'll claim it's because he doesn't want the 'heat', or he'll make excuses, but when it really comes down to it..." Eric looked up at Laura; Taskmaster was too far away to see his expression, but his tone gave away everything that he needed to know. "...That's Tony in there, under The Taskmaster. People don't see Tony, he hides it so well. They see that stupid fucking costume, that ridiculous cape...and a grim echo of the guy I know who taught me; who's ignored every rule he sets for himself for my sake."

"Why, though?" Laura asked, sounding skeptical. "It's easy for you to make these claims, but have you ever considered that he's lying to you? That he's just pathetic and lonely, and keeps you around so he has control over someone?"

"Shut the hell up," Eric snapped back at her, nearly rising. "I'm not the only one who knows this. He'll pretend he's forgotten, but Cap does, too; can you believe Taskmaster still admires him? Hell, have you ever even SEEN him copy a supervillain's moves? I've seen him throw like Bullseye, like...once. But day in, day out? It's Rogers. Daredevil. Black Knight. Hawkeye. -You-. And you wanna tell me he's faking it, when he tries to be like you on a level even he doesn't realize?"

Laura looked ready to bite back, to respond to Eric's accusatory tone, but after a moment she simply stopped walking around and regarded the children. While they still looked annoyed, still seemed ready to argue with Eric, they'd all shifted to listening intently. For some reason that Tony couldn't fathom, they were invested in this. What did Black Ant know? What wasn't he telling him?

"He wants to be the best, and I don't just mean at fighting. Every time, before he forgets, he becomes a little more like you, a little less like Taskmaster," Eric murmured, barely loud enough for Taskmaster to hear. "And then he goes back to it, gets his next job; but I'm not stupid. I've been watching people who were better than me my whole life. When he -really- has a reason to fight, you can almost see Tony in there, like a reflection in a lake. And then he has to copy someone new, or gets pushed further than his mind can take, and --" He mimicked a popping sound with his finger in his mouth. "...The next pebble drops, and it's gone."

The room fell silent for a little while, interrupted only by the sounds of the Scions grabbing the food that Laura had brought them on a tray and starting to dig into it. Looking conflicted, Wolverine finally threw her hands up. "So, what? You're saying that I should trust him? That he's 'not so bad'?"

"No," Eric replied coolly, putting his helmet back on. "I'm saying that I'm keeping my cards to my chest for a reason, and that I'm not telling you about what happened with these kids for the same reason I'm not telling -him-. Like I said, if they want to share? I can't stop them; but you won't understand why things went down like they did. What I will tell you is this: You need Taskmaster to save these children. Even they know it; it's the only reason they haven't ratted us out already. And if he finds out what he did...he's gonna run. He'll snap, he'll disappear, and then we're all fucked."

"He can barely move. He's hardly going to carry this team." Laura's tone wasn't proud, just factual.

"I'm not talking about fighting," Eric replied vaguely. "Just...don't trust me, okay? I don't give a shit. I don't even like you, Logan had better hair. Talk to the kids if you want, but I'm done explaining myself." He started past her, only for the smaller woman to plant a palm on his chest.

"This isn't finished, O'Grady," Laura warned. "Not by a long shot."

"I know," he responded, "...And I'm sorry, I spoke out of turn. Your hair is -amazing-." Taskmaster couldn't see them anymore, but he heard the distinct sound of Eric attempting to lean in and smell her -- and Laura punching him in the stomach.

After that, the group scattered. The Hub's agent -- the agent of his wife, Tony forced himself to try and internalize without much success -- was still not here, and everyone was occupying the time they were forced to wait differently. Eric was playing on his phone, Laura checked on the Scions and then went to explore the enormous mansion, and the Scions huddled together, finally well-fed and trying to catch up on their immense lack of sleep.

For his part, Taskmaster had a lot to think about now. Waiting another half hour or so before 'waking up', he finally rose and staggered out of the living room, heading for the armory. When he'd been working as Zemo's prison warden, he had stashed some equipment here, including of the medical variety. He could patch himself up a little better, get fighting fit again.

He'd barely opened the door of the safehouse and stepped inside when he heard footsteps approaching; small and quick. Grabbing a kit full of strange syringes, his personal supply of advanced first aid from his on-staff scientist Albino, Taskmaster turned in time to see one of the Scions approaching. It was the last he didn't recognize, all fire-colored hair and intense features that he quickly recognized as a strange mixture of Chinese and Scottish.

Tears in her eyes, she stepped forward, fearlessly grabbing for the first weapon she could find - a Desert Eagle, already loaded for haste's sake in case of emergency, barrel pointing straight at Taskmaster's forehead. When she finally spoke, it was through tears. "D'ye really not remember what ya did to us?" She asked him accusingly.

He didn't know how to answer.

[brisfanfictions]

Chapter Two: A Jealous Landon & the End of the SXSW Awards [JSE]

Once Rose and Seán got on the elevator, Landon hurried to get on the same one. He could see a bunch of people, probably game designers and producers, climb into the same elevator. He ducked down and followed them inside. Just so he could keep an eye on the green haired man. With a very Irish cap on his head.

“Are you going to make an ‘Open Your Gifts’ video again?” She politely asked the Irish man. She wanted to hear his accent all the more. Since she always heard her aunt and uncle’s accents all the time. She would never grow old of hearing the Irish man’s accents.

“Probably,” Seán answered. He glanced down at the blonde woman next to him and smiled. “I’d probably open yer gift for last because of how big it is.”

She giggled in an innocent way. She hoped that he’d show off her painting in a video. “I’m sure you’ll love it,” she eagerly told him. “Because I’ve been working on it since I was sixteen and still painting in high school.” She looked so proud of her work.

His eyes widened, though. He could have sworn that she was sixteen.

“How ol’ are ya, if I may ask?” He softly questioned her. Glancing down again at her in curiosity.

She giggled again and answered, “I’m twenty now, I’ll be twenty-one in August. I’ve been subscribed since I was sixteen and watching your channel grow. As well as all your videos. You’ve saved me more times than I can count on my fingers.” She had the most innocent smile ever. As if she never went through any horrible childhood.

“An’ how did I save ya?” He softly asked.

The elevator PINGed to signal that the were on the fourth floor and most people got off on that floor. Once the people were off, him and her stayed on. Not knowing that Landon was still following them.

“Well,” she said, thinking about where to begin. “My father is Irish and my mother was American. My father ran off when I was just an embryo in my mother’s womb. And my mother was an alcoholic and clinically depressed. After I was born, my mother never took great care of me. It was usually a woman across the hall that took care of me.

“My mother died after I was just five, so I don’t remember her that much.

“My aunt and uncle, then, flew out from Ireland to take care of me.

“Sometimes I have nightmares surrounding my father and mother. They all vary too. Most of them consist of finding my mom dead on the floor. With blood gushing from her wrists.”

Her face went from happy to sad during her story.

“Every day, I wonder if it’s my fault my mom killed herself… If I hadn’t been born, then she would still be alive.”

Seán swiftly gave her a reassuring hug.

“It’s not yer fault that yer mother committed suicide,” he softly said. “Ya are an amazing young laddy. That male fella is a lucky lad.”

She hugged him back, looking confused.

“What ‘fella’?” She asked. Not sure what he’s talking about.

“That brunet male that you came here with,” he clarified. He pulled away to look her in the eyes.

“Oh!” She said, knowing exactly who he’s talking about. “He’s not my boyfriend. He’s my best friend.” She had a giggle fit, too.

Landon winced upon hearing her giggles at Seán’s assumption. After setting him straight.

“Sooo,” the green haired male said, coughing a bit to hide his embarrassment.

She has a wonderful laugh. Probably broke many hearts with her innocence and her obliviousness.

He continued to hug her for comfort.

Landon was shocked that she even had nightmares. That was something that she’s never told him. And he felt betrayed. Since she told that Irish bastard her nightmares than him. Her best friend.

The elevator PINGed again.

“This is my floor,” Seán softly told her. He had released her, grabbing a part of the painting to help her with carrying it. He was raised to be a gentleman afterall.

Rose accepted his help with a huge smile. Her eyes sparkling in excitement and pure joy. She grabbed the other end and hurried on out behind him. She got a weird feeling of being watched, but brushed it off.

He continued walking, looking at the different room numbers. Obviously searching for his own room.

Once he found it, he gently set the painting on the ground. He pulled out his room key from his pocket and unlocked the door to 608. He picked his side of the painting up again. Then he gently guided her and her precious painting inside. After he put it down, he placed his rolling luggage on the bed.

He was feeling guilty for not telling his fans what’s going on with him and his girlfriend.

Landon had hurried off the elevator to catch up with them. However, he arrived a bit too late because Rose had already gotten inside the same room as Seán. He quietly swore out loud and waited, behind a large ficus tree in the middle of the hall.

When Rose entered the room, she was absolutely amazed at the entrance of the room. She put her painting down on the red couch to look around. He helped lean the unknown, to him, painting against the couch. Excited to see her art skills. It looked as if it was an apartment for one. There was a coffee table, a small desk with a wooden wheelie chair and a bed behind a wall. The bathroom was in a small crevice of the whole room. The floor is carpet up until the beginning of one wall. Then it turns into hardwood flooring that leads to the bathroom.

After she had her fill of looking around the room, she made sure that the painting part is towards them. She grabbed two parts of the blanket.

“Rosalie Ashlen Watson proudly presents,” she jokingly said in an announcer-like voice. Then she pulled the sheet off to reveal the masterpiece underneath. “Seán, Sam, and his beautiful Korean girlfriend.”

She had her arms in a “Ta-DA” fashion.

He saw and thought it was absolutely gorgeous. However, it made him depressed.

“Do you have a YouTube channel?” He asked her. Out of curiosity.

“I have two, actually,” she told him. “One is gaming and the other is for vlogs and drawing tutorials.”

He had pulled out his phone to make a quick vlog. To spill the beans to her and his subscribers.

“Want to make a vlog together?” He asked. “Then we can swap cell numbers and Skype contacts.”

“I’d love that,” she eagerly said. “Then I can make one for my channel.”

“Cool,” he said. He unlocked his big iPhone 12 Max and went to the camera option. He moved the bar options to the left for the video one. Then he clicked the red circle to start recording. He made sure that the painting and Rose was out of the shot.

“Top a the mornin’ to ya laddie,” Seán said, high fiving the camera. “My name is jacksepticeye. And I’m doing a vlog. I already have the videos done for my ‘trip’.” He made quotation marks. “But, this is a special kind of video.

“One of my friends has made something for me. However, I’m sure some of you have noticed that… I haven’t been… In the greatest of moods.”

He started to walk around his hotel room. Using his hand gestures that he makes during his vlogs.

“The reason is because my girlfriend, Signe, or Wiishu, broke up with me a week ago.”

He looked back at the camera. Visibly looking as if a weight has been lifted off his shoulders.

“Moving on from the bad news,” he said with a smile. “The friend that I have with this very moment. They are my new friend that I have met today while I’m in Austin, Texas. She made me a beautiful painting of me, Septiceye Sam and my ex-girlfriend. When I get back to Ireland, I’m going to hang it up in my recording area.”

Then he began to look dramatic.

“Now,” he said. Echoing as if he’s in a cave. “Presenting… My new friend… ROSE!” Then he yelled her name at the top of his lungs.

She came into the shot, laughing at the way he introduced her.

“Hey, guys!” She excitedly told his viewers; his friends. “My name is Rosalie Watson. I’m a very small YouTuber, but I’m working my way up through the ranks. I have two channels. One is my vlogging, ‘how to draw’ tutorials and time-lapse videos of a subject that someone wanted me to do. I do have drawing requests open every day on my Twitch account. My other channel is my gaming channel. I play video games every day. So you get two videos every day on two different channels.

“So I post a video on each channel every day. Even I had to plan some videos ahead.

“Not for my vlogging, of course. Don’t really need to do that.” She cutely giggled at that.

“Check out my vlog channel, Rosalie Watson, and my gaming channel, alwaysathorninmyside, for more details.”

She looked over to Seán to finish up this video. She planned to do his outro with him.

“That does it for this video,” Seán said, watching Rose follow along and repeat his words. He had the most joyful expression on his face. “If you liked it, PUNCH that like button in the face LIKE A BOSS! Aaand high fives all around. But, thank you guys and I will see all you dudes… IN THE NEXT VIDEOOO!”

“Later, guys,” Rose commented, holding up a peace sign to the camera in a fare well.

Seán ended the video, looking towards her.

She smiled, pulling her own phone out to record a similar video. Her phone was, also, an iPhone. But, hers was an iPhone 7.

“Hey, guys,” she greeted the camera with a smile. She made sure that Seán was out of camera shot. “As you guys might have known, my favorite YouTuber is jacksepticeye. If you haven’t been following my gaming channel, that is. And you guys, probably, know that I was on my way to Texas to go to the SXSW Gaming Awards. Last time I vlogged was yesterday, while I was on my way there.

“Well, I’m here now. I saw Seán in the lobby and hugged him.”

She got close to the camera to whisper, “he’s the best hugger I’ve ever hugged.” She laughed, smiling warmly at her audience.

“Anyways, I’m here with him now.”

Seán knelt down a bit to look into the camera. Since Rose was shorter than him by nine inches.

“Top a the mornin’ to ya laddies,” he greeted, smiling at her own audience. “My name is jacksepticeye.”

She giggled, lightly poking Seán. Then she turned back to her viewers.

“Seán and I are going to talk some more about gaming collaborations and, hopefully, do challenges together. Even streaming for charity events is an option.

“Ready?” She asked, turning to him. She wanted him to do part of his outro.

“Where do you want me to start?” He asked. Getting the idea that she wanted him to finish the video.

“Start from ‘thank you’,” she answered, giggling some more. She was ecstatic to do the outro with him on her channel this time.

He turned to the camera, rolling his eyes. Then he began.

“Thank you guys sooo much for watching this video and Rose will see all you dudes… IN THE NEXT VIDEOOO!”

“Peace out, guys,” she said, laughing when Seán changed it up.

Then she ended the video, going to upload the said video, uncut, on her YouTube app.

He was doing the same thing as her. He looked up both her channels and linked them at the bottom of his video as well as all his other social media.

Once he was finished uploading his video, he went to her gaming channel to watch her latest video. Which was the Sims 4 game.

“What’s new, guys?” She asked her audience with an angelic smile. “I’m playing, if you haven’t guess, the Sims 4! As you guys know, it’s my favorite game of all time. I love playing it.

“Today, I am going to flirt with Seán McLoughlin. And then fool around as well.

“With that said, let’s get started.” She, in the video, had the biggest smile.

Rose heard her own voice on the camera and blushed. She was embarrassed that he chose that specific video.

“Y-you don’t need t-to see that video,” she told him. In hopes that he would stop watching it.

He looks at her slightly red face. Then chuckled.

“Nonsense,” he responded. “If it has to do with me, then I deserve to see it.”

She blushed even darker and walked away. Mainly so that she didn’t have to hear her voice again. And watch him view her most embarrassing video. After all, it comes off that she is a complete stalker and she didn’t want that. She wanted to become Seán’s friend. She didn’t want him to think that she’s some psycho stalker of his. Even though she really isn’t.

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

“I hope to see you guys in the next video,” Rose said her small little outro. She smiled sweetly and waved good bye as the screen faded to black.

“You must really have a crush on me,” Seán said with a playful smirk. He turned to her and finished uploading his extra video of the day.

“U-uh huh,” she commented, turning even darker. She had did her best to tune her own voice out from the video and just do her own thing. Even though she had nothing to do.

“Mister jacksepticeye,” someone said from the other side of the door. “You need to get ready for the awards in a half-hour.”

“T’ank you,” Seán said to the employee on the other side. “I’ll be right out.”

“I guess I have to get going,” she softly said. Her eyes said that she didn’t want to leave and that she wanted to spend some more time with him. However, she knew that this would be ending soon anyways. “Hopefully, I’ll see you after the award ceremony.”

She turned to leave the room.

“Wait a minute,” he said with a smile. “Stay here and I’ll get changed quickly. Then we can exchange numbers as well as Discord accounts. We can even check out the entire convention while we’re here together.”

“L-like a date?” She asked, blushing a really dark red at the idea. She hoped that it would be a date.

“Sure,” he shyly commented. He felt as if he could be happy with her. As if they were meant for each other. Even though he just met her.

“Awesome,” she eagerly said, gently pushing him towards his bedroom. “Go get ready. I’ll be waiting here for you.” And it was a promise.

===============

Previously

Next {COMING SOON}

[screensirenfic]

Black Leather - Chapter 1

Life had remained largely the same, despite the obvious overhanging changes over the last year. I mean; life had always been hectic; disastrous even, taking turns and downright derailing at the worst times. We’d experienced loss again and again, been chewed up and spat on, but got up fighting; because that was what being a Hopper meant, being too damn stubborn to die. It was in the genes.

Life had gotten weirder. The discovery of real, living and fucking breathing monsters had been a big ole’ “fuck you” to logic, but science seemed to back it up with the uncovering of Hawkins lab and whatever sinister experiments they were running there. Of course; that wasn’t a concern any more, considering old Uncle Sam had shut that down quicker than the health inspector at Benny’s; God rest his soul.

But even with the finality of the death and burial of Hawkins greatest catastrophe/mystery; it still left a lot of bodies in its wake, one of which I was currently adjusting to calling sister.

Eleven. El. Jane. Whatever people preferred to call her; she was currently sharing a home with Me and my dad, as we all played happy families in the darkened depths of Indiana woodlands. I liked the kid; I’d admit it. She was sweet in her own way, and knowing she could toss shit around with her mind made her much cooler than the average thirteen year old. Of course; all of that was a secret. Everything about El was; as far as the government knew, she didn’t exist. It was the price that had to be payed for safety, and God knew dad valued that above all else: including our sanity.

So instead we stayed shut inside that little wooden hut forgotten by time and space, sneaking in and out at the rising and setting of the sun, like criminals or bats in the night. It was enough to drive you crazy; and trust me, dad was already half way there. Tensions ran high all the time; higher than they had at the height of his PTSD, and God; sometimes I just wanted to scream. For someone to address that shit wasn’t normal, rather than sitting around and pretending that it is.

The only true bit of normality was school and work. Mainly just school, as the arrival of a new dependant meant my work hours were seriously fucked. Wasn’t the kid’s fault; dad was a workaholic, didn’t know when to call it a day, and that left me picking up the pieces. It was Sara all over again. At least back then things were normal. There was still trauma, but it was the kind normal families had. A missing parent; semi-alcoholic father; that was shit everybody had to deal with, but this. This was the stuff that only happened in B movies.

—————————————

God; sometimes I really loved having a motorcycle. The wind slapping your face like a Californian wave; that rush of adrenaline when you take a corner a little too fast, when death seems just moments away. It was like flying; soaring through the air without limits. No; it was more visceral than that. Like free falling; the absolute relinquishment of control as you hurtle through the ozone, the earth rising up at you as the void closes in; death approaching at a hundred miles per hour.

You couldn’t compare it to any other sensation. I’d seen kids trying to mimic it on tiny dirt bikes painted up like NASCARS; their little legs spinning the pedals like turbines as they tried to reach just a lick of that speed. To feel the breeze on their face; the closest you could get to freedom in the tiny township of Hawkins, Indiana. That rush didn’t touch the one I felt when I rode my Triumph, hitting 80 as I threaded through standstill traffic; the reaper breathing down my neck.

But like all great rides; it came to an end too soon, the nondescript flat roofed shape of Hawkins High rapidly approaching. I pulled into the parking lot, cruising through row after row of dusty cars; from the beat up old Pacard, to the shiny new Chevy.

I parked a couple of rows before the school, swinging my leg over my saddle as I finally accepted my joy ride was over and I’d have to land back on earth.

“Hey; Lola!” A familiar voice rang out as I pulled off my helmet, shaking my hair loose, less the dreaded helmet hair take hold.

Nancy Wheeler; Hawkins High’s very own Miss Perfect, the princess of Indiana. She was the daughter fathers dreamed of; pretty in a girl next door kind of way, well behaved, a high achiever; the kind to bring home boys who got her back by ten and kissed goodbye at the door. I got called other things. Jail bait, wild child; a lawsuit waiting to happen. Well meaning grandparents used girls like me as a cautionary tale to expecting parents on what too little discipline did to ‘nice little girls’.

Not that I didn’t like Nancy. She was nice, and Steve’s girlfriend too. Besides, being a princess was hard; a lot of expectations to live up to, a lot of hopes to let down. I never had that problem, and with her cotton candy smile; I couldn’t help but give one in return.

“Hey Nance” I chirped, placing my helmet on the back of my motorcycle and knowing damn well no one would dare touch it.

“Steve was just wondering if you’d take a look at his college application...” She began, and I could see the flustered figure in question trailing behind her.

“He’s been finding it hard to find the right words, and we know how you never get tongue tied.” She joked, and I took it at face value; I was getting A’s, despite the perception that girls like me were only good at one thing and one thing only.

“Is that so, Steve?” I asked, unable to hide my smugness as I stared at him, despite his insistence on avoiding eye contact.

There was nothing I enjoyed more than really digging into him. It was just too easy; to push all his buttons. Of course; he did the same in return, but who really had more to lose? The self proclaimed king of Hawkins High, or his leather clad sidekick?

“Yeah, sowouldyoutakealookatit?” He mumbled, rubbing his nose as if he could hide the words as you would a cough.

“I’m sorry, Steve. I didn’t quite get that.” I purred with all forced sweetness and sacharine smiles. I could never resist the urge to really twist the knife.

“I said, would you take a look at it...” he sighed; a visible strain on the admission of inferiority.

“Please...” He added, drawing a smile to my lips. Sweet, stubborn Steve; too good to ask for help, and  just desperate enough to need it; but then what are friends for?

“Sure thing Harrington...” I grinned, finally plucking the crumpled stack of papers from Nancy’s grasp. “Would love to.” I removed my gaze from him, savouring the rare look of humbleness on his face, and turned it upon the paper.

——————————————-

Steve Harrington was many things. Charismatic. Caring. Rich. Good looking. A great guy with almost endless good qualities, but smart wasn’t one of them. I’d spent the best part of a quarter of an hour troweling through his paper with about as much joy as a prospector in a dry well, but was yet to strike gold.

It really was garbage, and that was treating it nicely, but still both me and Nancy tried our best to revive a corpse; not because we felt there was anything worth saving, but because it was Steve, and we cared about his future; even if it was doomed to culminate behind a deep fat fryer in a fast food joint.

My eyes trailed across line after line of smudged ink; much of it crossed out and rewritten in the margins, trying to make sense of whatever it was he was trying to convey in a comparison between WW2 and a basketball game between us and Northern.

“And did you...” I said; pointing out a particular eyebrow raising line, talking about the all American value of victory.

“Yeah; that’s what I thought...” She agreed, picking up off my tone and honing in on the line in question.

“Uh huh” I mumbled reading onwards on what was a virtual mine field of badly used metaphors and poorly linked  stories.

Steve didn’t seem to fare much better than his essay, pacing restlessly up and down a small stretch of parking lot, reminding me distinctly of an expecting father in the delivery room. However; his midwives were much more willing to take our time perfecting the delivery of his academic baby.

“And don’t you think...” Nancy trailed of, redirecting my attention to a sentence circled in red marker. Another misused simile courtesy of the genius that is Steven Harrington.

“My thoughts exactly.” I concurred, knowing that we were both desperately avoiding as coming across as purposely nitpicky with his work.

A loud, impatient sigh interrupted our conversation as Steve’s nerves finally reached their limit.

“I’m sorry, but are you girls anywhere near done?” He asked, drawing our attention away from the paper and up to his signature Steve Harrington pose; hands perched on his hips.

“We were just trying to find some constructive criticism to give you...” She began her tidy little avoidance bullshit; the kind that came with years of forced diplomacy beneath the perfect four bed suburban roof. The kind of bullshit I couldn’t stand; let alone tolerate. I had to put an end to it.

I strolled up to Steve, shoving the proverbial toilet paper he’d used as an application to his chest in a way that told him loud and clear what the truth about his efforts were.

“She means your paper sucks, man...” I translated; my words holding none of her polish, but all of the dirty intentions beneath.

“I wasn’t going to say that. I was...” She said; already backpedaling the hard truth I’d spilt onto the table.

Steve just gave her a look. He knew she was lying; if only to save his feelings. He may not have been smart, but he wasn’t stupid.

“Okay; it’s a little suckish, but nothing we can’t fix...” She offered in consolation; a weak smile the most she could offer in her lie.

I was about to object, knowing the hole she was digging the both of us was deeper than we could deliver upon, when a grisly roar overshadowed all thought. I knew the sound well; all eyes turning to it’s source, the newest arrival to Hawkins.

A Chevy Camaro; older, probably fixed up by some dedicated hobby mechanic with too much time on his hands. I’d seen hundreds of them in the shop in varying states of rustiness; most beyond repair, but still, some insistent gashead would insist it could be done, sinking fistfuls of dollar into what was essentially raising the titanic.

“Nice car.” Nancy remarked, and for a princess like her to notice, it must be true. It was in good shape. Baby blue with just the slightest of wear on the paint; someone took a lot of care with their baby. Fuck; if I had one, I probably would too!

“Yeah, but I bet the backseat is a nightmare.” Joked Steve; insecurity seeping into what was meant to be a light dig.

Not the only man with a nice ride on the block now.

His dig fell short when the driver stepped out, hard rock pounding in his stead.

Pretty; was my first thought. Like his car, he had all the well tailored ruggedness that created the perfect balance between pretty boy and rebel. Blonde haired, blue eyed; think James Dean if he had a mullet.  His clothes looked good too; double denim that clung to him like a second skin, with a white t shirt that really left nothing to hide.

Smoking a cigarette with movie star casualness, if I’d seen him in a movie, I’d be drooling. But this wasn’t a movie; this was Indiana, and I’d seen too many of his type roll up to Charlie’s in pretty cars with prettier faces thinking it meant the world owed them something. That that something was hidden somewhere down the denim shorts I wore so religiously.

I’d had it with pretty boys. They could all go jump off a bridge.

And as if he was already decided to live up to the cliche, he went and cemented it when he strolled past us, dripping sex and arrogance; his eyes trailing up and down me like I was something to be bartered for, like I could be bought.

“What an asshole.” Sneered Steve, taking the words out of my mouth, and I almost smiled; because of course he’d be the one to say it.

But I didn’t; not when the new kid was leering at me with all the restraint of a hungry dog.

I watched him lick his lips; that’s right, lick. his. lips. Pink tongue peaking out past too perfect teeth, running across a full bottom lip. I tried telling myself it wasn’t sexual. That it was just a private little tick that he couldn’t control. But his eyes had never left me; a dark grin that promised any number of sins stretched across a heartbreaker’s face.

“Yeah. An asshole.” I agreed; the word rolling off my tongue automatically, but I don’t think my heart was in it. That frightened me.

That, and the small itch in my stomach that grew every time his bright baby blues met my green.

Finally; those blues relented, tongue disappearing behind white teeth as he shot me a smile that could’ve sent knees buckling. A quick wink and he was done, strutting into Hawkins High like a stormy breeze that was sure to rock the entire school.

“Hey Lo. You listening?” Came Steve’s voice through a fog of cigarette smoke and gasoline; the smell reminiscent of home, despite its cause being far from homely.

“Yeah. Sure...” I replied, tearing my eyes from where the newcomer had disappeared into the school.

“Let’s get to class before we’re late.” I said, shouldering my bag as if it was any other Monday morning. And it was.

Just another manic Monday.

[rhainontheshelves]

Remember

Member: Bang Chan {Stray Kids}

Genre: Fluff, semi-smut? Not full-blown but it’s still there, angst towards the end

A/N: I’ve had this in my WIPs for a while and really wanted to release something! If anyone is interested in a prequel or a sequel I can certainly do that. Happy reading! - Rhin

    “... How long are you going to stay on my lap?”

    “However long it takes to finish this melody. Deal with it.” I said, plunking out a string of notes on the keyboard. Figuring out a concrete sheet of music was difficult when all you had was some sound clips Chan had come up with years ago. But, nevertheless, I managed to connect them and came up with a pretty good composition. I saved the file with a little “Yay!” and leaned back.

    Chan groaned as my weight shifted further back on his legs. “Damn (Y/N), how many cheeseburgers did you eat today?”

    “Not as many as you. How many did you order, four?” I smirked.

    “It was only three, excuse me! And they were singles, you can’t blame me for cheating the system and getting three singles for less than a triple.”

    “Only because we’re broke and ordering off the dollar menu,” I said, twisting around to face him, “and two medium fries! Who are you, an unhealthy version of Gaston?”

    “Hey, don’t compare me to that jerk!” Chan tried hard to keep a straight offended face. “And I’m very healthy, thank you very much.”

    A couple moments of silence was enough to break my mask and burst out laughing. Chan’s face was too good not to. He chuckled along with me and stroked my hair as I leaned into his chest, trying to pull myself together.

    “Wow, I’m tired,” I said, wiping tears from my eyes. “What time is it?”

    Chan glanced over to the computer. “Midnight on the dot.”

    “We have officially spent five hours in this dumb room.” I got up and grabbed a Pepsi from the minifridge. “Want one?”

    All Chan had to do was hold a hand out for me to toss one to him. Together, we unscrewed the lids and took huge swigs. We were in for a long night, so we needed all the energy we could get.

    “Let’s take a break.” Chan said, rolling over to the couch and propping his feet up. “My brain is tired from trying to pull feelings and experiences from years ago up for lyrics.”

    I flopped on the couch, thinking of a way I could help out. To be honest, I hadn’t done anything of that nature since I graduated, and that was just about a year ago. The memory was pretty hazy (it was a black-out type of night), so that wouldn’t help out a lot.

    “(Y/N), do you trust me?” Chan asked out of the blue.

    “What is that supposed to mean?”

    “Well, if this song is truly about sex, wouldn’t we need some moans in the background or something? The good ol’ bed creaks are getting a bit overused in this industry.”

    It took me a minute to process what Chan meant. “Wait… you want me to-”

    “No! Not if you don’t want to,” Chan’s cheeks turned red, “we can always pull audio from porn or something!”

    I looked at my best friend, sighed, and shook my head. “You’re lucky we need to get this track done by tomorrow afternoon,” I got up, turned off the lights, and went into the booth.

    “Why did you-”

    “So I can still have some dignity by the end of the night,” I said into the microphone. “Can we just get a series and cut it into the song? It’s too tedious to do stuff at exact moments.”

    “That’s fine by me.” Chan affirmed. “Just say so when you’re done.”

    I awkwardly stood in the booth for a bit, trying to figure out the logistics of this. The microphone that was hooked up wasn’t omnidirectional, so getting into the right position for the audio to be captured was a big problem. Also the fact that Chan was here made me extremely nervous. I didn’t know why; we could usually talk for hours about this stuff. Maybe it was because it was for real instead of the usual imaginary scenarios.

    Pulling up the chair, I sat down in it and carefully reached out toward the mic stand. I found the knob that adjusted the height and brought it down to its lowest position. Then, making myself as comfortable as I could be, I unbuttoned my jeans and slid a hand down to my clit.

    “Anytime now, (Y/N).” Chan’s voice boomed. The sudden fracture in the silence scared me and made me lose my start.

    “Damn it Chan, I was just getting warmed up,” I muttered. “I was just starting to get focused.”

    “Oh, sorry.” His voice sounded tiny over the speaker system.

    “You’re good, just don’t do that again, okay?”

    “Got it.” With that, the static of an open line cut off, leaving me back at square one.

    I sat there for a bit, trying to bring up a picture in my head that I could jack off to. Nothing in particular was coming to mind, except feeling something hard as I sat on Chan’s lap just a couple minutes ago. I zoned in on that feeling, and started to find something I could associate it with… and then my brain betrayed me.

    “Hey Chan… do you remember that party we went to a couple years back? You needed to blow off some steam from being cooped up with the guys too long and I needed some relief from college?”

    Static started buzzing again. “Yeah, I remember that. It was a fun night.”

    “I don’t know any other way to say this, but… I can’t get this image of you out of my head… I think we did something that night.”

    “I wouldn’t be surprised if we did. We were pretty drunk.”

    “No, you don’t understand. All I can remember after the sixth shot of whiskey is undoing someone’s belt while they marked me up. Their shirt was red, like that one button-up one you have that I like so much.”

    “Oh… that… yeah, that was me.”

    “You remember?” Honestly, I was shocked. I was certain that Chan got even drunker than I did.

    “Yeah, every second. I wasn’t as drunk as you then.”

    “Well, tell me about it then, since I obviously don’t remember.”

    “Um, okay.” There was some hesitation there. I knew Chan well enough to know that this was important to him for some reason; he would have told me about it sooner if it wasn’t.

    “Hey, it’s okay Chan.” I soothed him. “It won’t mess up our friendship.”

    “Are you sure?” his voice was shaky.

    “I’m absolutely positive.”

    “Well, it started when you pulled me away from the dance floor. Apparently I was grinding on some girl you didn’t like. I could tell you were getting faded, so I didn’t take it too seriously. As you were ranting about it, you started to say peculiar things. Like, “you have no right to look that fine” and “if you had another button undone and your sleeves already rolled up when you picked me up we would have never left the house”, things like that. Obviously I had turned you on and drunk (Y/N) gets really bold and horny. I don’t really remember what you said next, but I couldn’t stop myself from kissing you.”

    I was starting to remember, and as I recalled the atmosphere and how Chan looked that night, I started to get wet. That was one of the top times where I just wanted to hop on his dick and ride the night away. I wasn’t proud of it, but it happened. My hand started rubbing circles around my clit.

  �� “You backed me up against a wall and started unbuttoning my shirt. I realized where we were going at that point and quickly picked you up and headed towards the nearest room so we could have some privacy. Luckily it was a bedroom and the door was able to be locked. You started working on my belt and I gave you two hickeys on your shoulder. Once that belt was gone, you started unzipping your dress and I lost it. Lust just burned through me and you seemed pleased that you brought it on.”

    Chan was slightly caught off guard as whimpers came through the other end of the mic. (Y/N) must be remembering and getting off on that. He couldn’t deny that his mind was roaming back to then as well.

    “Chan, don’t stop talking. I want to remember everything.” (Y/N) whined.

    Chan could feel the lust creeping up again. It made him cocky, it made him want to hear what (Y/N) had to offer. “Everything?”

    “Everything.”

    “When your dress hit the floor, I picked you up and threw you on the bed, trapping you under my body. You pulled me down for another kiss, but I was already there. As we made out, my hands traveled around, unlatching your bra and pulling your underwear down. We pulled apart for air and I swear you looked like an angel, all out on display for me. You begged for me to do something, anything… so I got on my knees and pulled you forward until I could eat you out properly.”

    Chan described the rest of the encounter in graphic detail, and that was more than enough to help me out. By the end of it, I had cummed twice and moaned up a storm. I was confident that I had recorded good material.

    “Alright, that’s a wrap.” I stated as I buttoned up my jeans.

    Chan didn’t answer.

    “Chan?” I called as I exited the room.

    He wasn’t at the soundboard. The door was wide open though.

    “Chris?” I called again, sticking my head out of the door.

    No one was there to hear me.

    Concerned, I picked my phone off of the coffee table and there was a notification for a text - from Chan.

    Went out to grab some food. I’ll be back soon

[bunnylouisegrimes]

Justice For My Carl (TWD Fic)

A/N: I wrote this a long while ago, but I’ve been having a lot of shit going on recently, so I felt like publishing it. It sums up my feelings about TWD pretty well (it’s a little more extreme to fit the story, but still). Hope y’all can enjoy it. It’s my first TWD fic in a while (and my first fic in general in a while), and maybe one of my last TWD fics (and last fic for a while). My big story with my 14 year old OC? I have no clue when it’s going to be done. My life has gotten so busy these past few months and I expect it to be just as busy if not busier for the next. Plus, Charlie/NOS4A2 has become more of a main interest to me. I’ll never stop loving Carl or my other fanfics from other stuff, however, including TWD. Please, enjoy.

Justice For My Carl

By: Bunny Louise Grimes

Recently, Negan has been a little upset, and questionably concerned, that I had been going outside in the middle of the cold night, uptop the fire escape of his factory, lost and grieving, but I had reminded him that he too was lost and grieving always carrying around that bat, and that seemed to shut him up, although I did receive a quick backhand slap as punishment for even using her against him and speaking of her that way. I apologized and he forgave, though I could tell he was still ticked. I had told him that me being outside was safe (due to his watchmen being like gargoyles in a church) and that I deserved it. I work hard and do what you ask, I had said. I deserve a reward, don’t I? Isn’t that what you’re all about?

He nodded and said, “Very well then. I suppose. Just don’t do anything stupid. Don’t fall off the edge of it or something.”

“Trust me, I’ve contemplated it,” I said. “After loosing my beloved, I’ve thought about it, but I’ve never came to a desicion. I’m sure you can relate to those feelings, right?”

He held back a deep chuckle and leaned back against the armchair. The sound of leather meeting leather and rubbing against each other filled the dim room. His zippers and belt also made some light metallic noises. The night was already quiet, and perfect for him to catch me uptop his fire escape in the night.

“Ah, kid,” said he, “I didn’t want to kill myself. That’s fuckin’ weak. I wanted to find a purpose. I wanted to find people to lead. I had nothing after my Lucille was gone, but I knew I wasn’t going to fucking kill myself. I’d die if I’d die, so fucking be it. But I wanted to find people to be with and lead. And what do you know? Months later, I found it. So next time you think of jumping off that ledge, think of me, okay?”

I nodded. “Okay,” I replied, appreciating his “kindness.”

“Now run along,” he shooed me away. “Go get some rest or something. I’m gonna go see if my wives are available. If not, my Lucy here is gonna get some good ol’ special time with Negan.”

I wanted to laugh, but I gave a weak smile. Really, laughter was hard anymore. I knew that if my dear was still alive, we would share a laugh over his dirty and eccentric humor, despite him not exactly being an ally.

The next morning, things were fairly normal, the constant hum of life throughout the industrial sanctum, when Simon approached me. Tall and lanky, with a ridiculous mustache, he almost looked like the bad guy of a cartoon or a Tim Burton character to an extent.

“So,” he told me. “You got a visitor.”

“A visitor?” I asked. “What do you mean?”

“Someone from Hilltop,” he explained. “He said he’d like to speak to you.”

“Very well then,” I replied, walking with him. “I will see him.”

The right hand man led me to the room where the inner circle would have their meetings. I would know because Negan allowed me to be there. He would let me run basic errands when requested by his best of the best and knew I barely spoke a word to anyone, especially about what they talked about, even to my friends from long ago. Even to Rick and Michonne, and little Judith, there was nothing to say. To Daryl, who was locked up briefly, and now released to do the most backbreaking things alongside Rick, words were lost.

We entered the room. Negan sat in that comfy chair with wheels with his bat by his side. I looked and saw someone else across from him on the table. His hair was crazy and dark, somewhat curly. His facial hair was dark as well. His skin was tan. His dark brown eyes turned to look at me. He was dressed in greyish tan clothing. He stood up. He was taller than me like my Carl was. His demeanor was soft and gentle.

“Hey,” his quiet voice greeted. “I hope you remember me.”

Remember you? I thought. I looked deep into my broken mind, trying to figure out who he was. So many faces now all a blur to me. The only face that stood out amongst the rest was my love’s.

He cleared his throat. “You... look... the same. Maybe... different.... worse than before... but still... you.”

Like the spark of a flame, a sense of familiarity started to dawn on me. He looks... like...

“I hope you are recovering well from your loss.”

He knows about my loss? Of course he would. Everybody across this whole post apocolypse globe practically knew. I bet people who hadn’t even met us knew about it. It was like the gunshot heard across the world. I was the girl who lost her love, and to all of us, regardless if we had hope or not, we were the people who lost the future.

“I understand, maybe it’s not the best timing?” He tried. “Or maybe... you’re unhappy with me.”

Unhappy with you? Why? I thought. It wasn’t your fault the future is dead. It’s mine. I got him killed. Carl tried saving me. You didn’t have to live with that guilt.

“Go ahead,” Negan urged. “You can say something.”

No words could come out of me. I just stood there, Simon beside me, drinking his tequila, the silence of the room deafening.

“You really don’t remember me?” He asked, surprised. “I expected you to be furious with me, my name and face burned into your mind.”

Name and face? Millions of names and faces were blurred together like in a melting pot and I couldn’t differentiate one from the other. Only one name and face stood out, like a beautiful imperfection on a painting.

He began to wring his hands nervously, clearing his throat again. “Uh... shall I introduce myself once more?”

Did I meet him in the sewer? I thought. Wait... those sewers... damp, disgusting, the low hanging strong stench adding to the weight on my entire body... somebody asking if he could get some meds... who was that? His voice was... that person’s voice...? But why was he there in the first place? We hadn’t met him before coming to Alexandria. We didn’t meet him there, did we? No, that can’t be right. We met him... where?

“We met at the gas station, and then the woods?” He tried again to jog my broken and sluggish memory clouded with grief.

Woods, I thought. Damn woods. So beautiful and peaceful to me before my loss, now a constant reminder of my loss. But... wait...

It hit me.

You were there.

You witnessed my foolishness getting my love killed. He couldn’t save both of us, right?

Wait, no...

I’m right. He couldn’t save both of us.

But... I never hit the ground and got surrounded. I know this because I couldn’t remember feeling the hard ground and seeing living dead faces around me. That was wrong. That was at the prison. Carl had two eyes in that memory. He had one eye for quite a few months now.

I remembered it wrong.

Which meant that I wasn’t foolish and Carl died saving me... you were foolish...

Which meant he died saving you.

You got him killed.

You were the fool who killed the future.

My heart sank. My God...

I remembered it wrong! I was so devestated and heartbroken that I put the blame on myself. I took an old memory and used it against me. I wanted to think of Carl dying with a purpose, not trying to save someone so stupid and pointless, but I thought the opposite was reality.

I blamed myself for no reason.

It wasn’t me, it was him.

My fists clutched in tight balls. I looked into him with fire and fury in my eyes. I began to sweat. I was burning a furious fever.

No forgiveness for you.

You bringing back the truth just awoke a sleeping giant.

I slammed him down against the table in a fit of seething enragement. I loomed over him, irate and heartbroken. Tears and sweat poured from my body onto his goosebumps covered and hair raised skin. He was pissing and shitting himself all at once. Good. This lousy excuse for a human being should be afraid.

“You.... murdered the future!” I screamed. “You killed him! You killed the future of us all! You made me blame myself for weeks! Do you know the pain I’ve felt?! Do you know how we all have no hope and purpose to live?! Why should you get to live when he doesn’t?! I will kill you, you bastard!”

Simon pulled me off of him, but I jumped out of Simon’s arms and slammed myself back on top of the inferior one. His breath rattled as I landed on his chest. I clutched my hands on his neck and began to squeeze the life out of him.

Negan intervened and I felt two leather arms around my stomach area heaving me up. He was surprisingly stronger than Simon was. Or perhaps he just happened to have a better grip on me. I kicked and screamed and fought. No! Negan, you are hindering me from wiping him clean! Don’t you understand?! He needs to die!

I screamed with tears streaming down my face. My face felt hot and red. To an outsider, I looked like a kid having a fit at a toy store and Negan was my father trying to calm me down and get me out of the store. But I wasn’t heartbroken and angry about not getting a toy. I was heartbroken and angry about not getting a chance at having a purpose for carrying on in this world anymore, along with others not. Carl was going to lead us all, and I would be alongside him. But this... thing... killed it all.

“Negan!” I screamed. “Let me kill him! Please! Let me throw him in the fire! Iron his entire body!”

Negan didn’t respond and instead shushed me as he held me close to him. Not facing him, of course. I was squealing and squirming and fighting like a pig about to be thrown into an oven. I glared at the terrified and petrified fool, staring dumbfounded at my fit. He wasn’t guilty at all. He was just... horrified at me.... not his actions.... but wasn’t I a byproduct of his actions?

I was what he made me.

I shouldn’t have let a foolish and useless being get to me this much. But all I needed was to eliminate him. It wouldn’t fix things, but by God, justice must be served!

Negan continued to try to silence me and calm me down when I saw Lucille sitting on the table.

She visits my love. She comforts him and keeps him company. She would understand Carl. She would understand the decision I would make. If the sickness that killed her was the person in front of us, Negan would make the decision I was about to make, so he would understand. But he didn’t think like that in the moment, which was why he was preventing me from grabbing the bat and ending this sad sack of shit.

“You need back up, boss?” Simon asked.

“I got it,” Negan sputtered.

“Let me kill him!” I cried. “Please!”

“Just settle down,” Negan whispered. “It’s okay.”

None of it was okay. The one who killed the future was to get away Scott free... justice must be served.

That’s when I went absolutely apeshit crazy and practically jumped out of Negan’s arms and back into the table. I crawled as fast as I could to the bat. I grabbed her just as Negan grabbed my foot.

“Just one hard swing to his head!” I squealed. “That’s all it takes!”

I got loose and jumped up. I ran over to the scared thing like a battle charge into a war and raised the barbed and beautiful bride above my head.

I could see the fear in his eyes. I could smell his fast flowing blood. I could hear his fast heartbeat. I could taste his sweat. I could feel his trembling and panic against my skin.

“Now die!” I screamed.

I was slammed down on the table by Negan grabbing my leg and making me trip. I nearly lost my teeth as my chin slammed against the table. I cried out in pain. Lucille rolled away from me and Simon grabbed her before she landed on the floor.

“Give her back to me!” I yelled. “Justice must be served!”

Negan pinned me in the same position again and said, “Give her to me.”

Simon obeyed, a little weary. Negan, holding me with one arm tight around me, tight enough that it was hard to breath, took Lucille in his hand and hit her wooden handle against my head.

I immediately went limp and felt heavy. My head hurt. I was seeing stars and spots. No, I thought. I lost. He gets away. I can’t fight anymore.

Tears poured down my cheeks and a weak and pathetic sob escaped my lips.

Negan buried my face in his neck and shushed me again, telling me reassuring and calming things. My fist was weak against the durable leather on his shoulder and went weaker, slipping down his body and dangling like a loose fishing line. I wept weakly into his jacket and neck. I was in pain both physically, mentally, and emotionally.

“Maybe... it was a mistake to come here...” I could hear his voice shake.

“Simon, take this young man back to Hilltop,” Negan ordered.

“Yes sir,” Simon responded.

“Justice will prevail.” I managed to slur amongst my crying and gave him one last hateful look. My voice was muffled by Negan’s leather. Tears ran down my red eyes and puffy cheeks. “Your actions will have consequences. I will see you in Hell.”

Negan continued to shush me and quiet me even after Simon and the sad sack left the room.

“He’s gone now, okay?” He hushed. “You don’t need to freak out anymore.”

Exhausted and weak from my scene, I collapsed onto Negan, weeping until I couldn’t anymore and fell asleep.

When I woke, I must’ve been out for hours, because it was no longer daylight and instead close to dusk. Negan had left some cookies and hot chocolate for me shortly before I woke up, due to the hot chocolate being warm still. I knew that I could remicrowave it if I wanted, so that’s probably why he gave it to me in the first place.

I weakly got up and picked the mug up. I sipped it, every sip calming and dimming my angry thoughts. I wouldn’t have been surprised if he laced everything with sedatives. Heavy sedatives, especially, considering the fact that I went absolutely ballistic on that son of a bitch.

I chuckled, thinking of how amusing it was that he was that terrified of me. Good. I want you to look at me and feel that fear. You should. What was the saying? Tiny but mighty? I was always tiny but mighty. That’s how I survived this world.

After finishing everything, I layed back down and stared up at the ceiling, wishing death upon the little bitch, when my door opened. Negan walked through my door.

“Well, look who’s finally awake,” he smirked.

“Is he dead?” I asked.

“No,” he told me, almost confused at my question.

“He needs to be.”

“And what will that do?” He said. “You can’t change the fact that Carl is dead.”

“But he will not die in vain,” I said.

“Killing him will make his death inexcusable,” Negan told me. “He risked his life for that kid.”

“Nothing excuses my love’s death, especially risking his life for someone as stupid as that,” I growled. “You don’t understand, Negan. He survived everything else, but this was how he died? We have no future. He was the future. You said it yourself. I am not the future. I am no leader. You are right that I cannot summon him, but justice can be delivered.”

Negan sat silent, not knowing what to say.

“Just let me be, please,” I begged him. My head rolled over and I looked him the eye.

Negan got up and left, closing the door behind him. I gazed up at the ceiling more, the dimming and last traces of golden sunlight from the foggy windows spread out against the ceiling and watched as they slowly disappeared and the windows were instead dark.

After about an hour of this, I got up and snuck up to the fire escape. I gazed up at the starry and beautiful night. The cool winds felt amazing on my hot and weak body. I looked up at the sky, lost in my starry world, when I heard a voice come from behind me.

“It’s a beautiful night, isn’t it?”

I turned around and found myself taken aback by seeing him.

“How did you get here?” I demanded.

“I snuck in,” he explained. “Long story short, I managed to sneak into one of their cars and hid around the complex. I needed to talk to you. I needed to find you and speak to you.”

“Even after the fit I threw?”

He nodded.

I laughed. “You really are a fool. You just don’t get it. Come to think of it, nobody seems to get it.”

I turned back to the night and continued to speak to him.

“You killed the future. Have you no guilt?”

“I have guilt, of course. I didn’t know this would happen.”

“Well, it did. And now, you must live with that guilt for the rest of your life. Or rather... maybe you don’t...”

I chuckled darkly to myself, but he seemed too stupid to understand what I was inferring.

“I want to apologize for what I did.”

“Apologizing isn’t enough. I don’t think you understand just how badly you messed up. The whole future is gone. All hope is lost. It is not the grief talking. It is the truth.”

“If you cannot accept my apology, than that is on you.”

I growled and grabbed him by the shoulders. “None of this is on me. All of this is on you. You did this, and you must suffer the consequences. I begged you two not to do those things, and I tried to sacrifice myself for Carl, but I couldn’t because you got in the way. You prevented my chances of saving him by pushing me out of the way when I could’ve saved the future. You didn’t even save Carl when the zombies surrounded him and the undead were on top of him. This proves how weak you are. Who had to kill them? I did and he did. This was your plan. Why didn’t you take it into your hands to save him?”

Silence came from him.

“That’s what I thought,” I whispered, releasing his shoulders and walking towards the ledge again, looking down upon the concrete. God, it never looked as soft as it did in that moment.

“You are awfully close to that ledge,” he pointed out. “You’re not going to kill yourself, are you?”

I chuckled and smiled suddenly. “No. You know what? No. That’s the weak way. I’m not weak like you. I’m not going to do that. I’m not gonna do what Carl had to do. We both will have to die because of you, and I’m not having that happen.”

I turned to him and smiled, circling him slowly and deadly. “Justice will prevail. Your actions will have consequences. I will see you in Hell.”

I backed him against the railing. He shivered and shook as I looked him straight into his fear filled eyes.

“If the strong future doesn’t deserve to live, then a weak being like you shouldn’t. If we shouldn’t have a purpose in carrying on, then you shouldn’t.”

“Please,” he begged. “Don’t do this...”

“I’m sorry, Siddiq,” I told him. “But it’s how it’s gotta be.”

I used all of my might to throw him off of the railing. His screams must’ve died before ever leaving his throat because he didn’t make a noise as he went splat across the concrete.

A rush of relief, satisfaction, and tranquility filled me after the sound of his bones crushing against the concrete entered my hearing.

I chuckled and looked up at the starry sky. “Into this house we’re born, into this world we’re thrown. Like a dog without a bone, an actor out on loan.”

I went down the steps and to where the now dead body lay on his bed of concrete. I dragged him over and crept to the gate of undead, also known as No Man’s Land, unnoticed by the watchmen. I threw him in and the undead’s attention went to his carcass. They began to eat him and I smiled satisfyingly. By morn, they would think him another dead bastard.

I went back inside and went straight back to my dim room. I closed my door quietly, put on “Riders on the Storm” on my record player, ate a Cadbury egg, hugged the Future’s cloth hat and placed it close to my chest near my beating heart that seemed to be slightly revived by my murder. A smile spread across my face again and I nuzzled the hat lovingly.

“Justice for my Carl,” I murmered, falling into the best sleep I’d have in weeks. “Justice for my Carl.”

[neganandblake]

I think I liked you better when you didn’t have a knife in your hand, Peaches... Chapter 195 - Big Bad Reputation

When Blake finds herself sold out to the Saviours by her abusive fiancé, she realises that she’s certainly not on her own anymore and finds an unlikely friend in Negan. And Negan does NOT like men who beat their girlfriends, one tiny bit….

Chapter 195 - Big bad reputation

[Negan confronts Charles. Will the man holding the gun be able to make any more threats?]

"...'Cause I'm Negan."

Just three words. That was all the dark-haired man had to utter for the sound of panicked whispers to surround them suddenly.

The man named Charles stared quickly around at his people who all seemed to be shifting on their feet, looking agitated.

For Blake knew that Negan was a notorious spectre even in these parts. Known to everyone for what had to be, hundreds of miles around.

Negan had a big bad reputation. Just his name alone uttered in hushed tones was a thing of grotesque legend, and everyone here had obviously heard what he was capable of.

But while Charles stared around wild eyed, Negan and Blake kept their eyes fixed on him...ready...waiting…

"Stop it!" he hissed out to the couple of men nearest to him. But it was no use. There even came a sudden cry from one of the women behind them as Charles stared her way, lips parted, watching in horror as the integrity of his group fell apart around him.

But he tried to keep his cool as best he could, merely turning back to Negan with a sneer, giving Negan's chest a hard shove with the barrel of his gun.

"Never heard of you," he said, grimacing. "And I really couldn't give a fuck who you are. You see, we're taking your van-"

He nodded towards Lucille, still in Negan's hand.

"-your weapons, and anything else you've got. Now either you hand it all over, or I'm gonna be putting a bullet through both your skulls'."

"Charles!" came a sudden pleading voice from behind them.

Blake glanced around to see a woman in her late fifties, with sand-coloured hair, step out of the surrounding circle of people.

"Please," she continued, her brown eyes full of despereation. "You dont know who this is-"

But Charles cut her off angrily.

"I don't give a fuck who this is, Martha!" he yelled suddenly. He was breathing hard now, his cheeks looking pink. "They either give us what they have, or we kill them. Fair and square. This was the plan."

But Martha wasn't looking at Charales anymore, instead she took a step forward, her eyes darting back and forth between Negan and Blake.

"Please," she said, entwining her fingers before her in a gesture of prayer, and shaking her head. "I am so sorry. If we'd have known who you were we'd have never-"

"Martha, what the fuck are you doing?-" Charles shouted again, sounding furious.

But again the woman ignored him, and this time another man, far younger, with red hair and glasses, nodded feverently, came to stand beside her.

"She's right," he said too, in a pleading voice. "We are so sorry. Truly. Charles...H-He doesn't speak for all of us, I swear. W-We were just desperate. We thought up this stupid plan, and-"

"ENOUGH!" cried Charles, his voice echoing through the clearing, stopping the young boy mid-way through his sentence.

He was breathing hard now through his nose, looking enraged.

He turned back to Negan, wrinkling his nose and baring his teeth.

"Look I don't care who you are, Asshole," he snarled out. "This was supposed to be just a simple grab and go, no one had to get hurt, but, hey, you had to mess things up for yourselves."

Charles looked down at the gun in his hands.

"Now...well….now you haven't given me a choice," he said, his adam's apple sliding down his throat as he gave a hard swallow, before he stared back up at Negan, his beady eyes meeting with the Saviour's dark and angry ones " I guess I'm going to have to kill you both, AND take your shit."

Blake gritted her teeth together furiously at his threat, lowering her chin as he wavered for a second.

"Charles," came the woman named Martha's voice once more, sounding desperate. "Please-"

But Charles spoke over her, never taking his eyes off Negan all the while.

"No, Martha! We stick to the plan!" he said loudly, his finger slowly clenching around the trigger...

But Blake, in that instant, took her chance.

This wasn't going to be the way Negan was going to die. Or her either.

Not by the will of some stupid son-of-a-bitch.

And so, with a roar of anger escaping her lips before she could stop herself, the blonde launched herself forwards, snatching the blade from her belt.

Charles quickly caught her movement, his eyes widening.

And neither Blake nor Negan could do anything as Charles suddenly swung the gun around, pointing it in her direction and pulled the trigger.

But Blake, on this occasion, was lucky.

Very lucky.

For today was not going to be the day she got shot for a second time in just a few short months. Nu-uh.

People screamed all around as several bullets peppered the bonnet of their truck, blowing out one of the headlamps.

But Blake just took this as her opportunity, her long legs closing the gap between her and Charles, her knife plunging into the soft meat of his right flank, just below his armpit, causing him to scream out in pain almost immediately.

But now it was Negan's turn.

And with the man before them momentarily distracted, the dark-haired Saviour grabbed Charles' gun with both hands, causing him to turn back around to face him in panic.

"Oh you'll learn my name, you spinless mother-fucker," Negan growled, as he headbutted Charles, sending him sprawling backwards.

He tripped over his own feet a couple of times and fell to the floor in a heap, now without his gun, clutching his bloodied side and whimpering.

Not one of the people standing around made a move to help him now.

Negan stood up straight, face like thunder as he checked the rounds still left inside the gun in his hands, before looking back up to Blake, who both looked and felt, almost unperturbed by the entire situation.

For she had faced bigger and badder people than Charles in her life. Her ex-fiance alone being one of them.

She felt stronger now.

More confident than she ever had been. And knew that was because of what Negan had built her up to be. What he had given her the chance to become.

"Wow, Peaches, I forgot how much of a goddamn badass you can be!" Negan exclaimed suddenly, turning on his heel to face her.

But Blake merely shrugged.

"You can thank me later for saving your ass," she teased, as Negan raised his eyebrows in interest.

His gaze seemed to rove over her in a protective manner, as if checking for any damage, or hurt inflicted on her, before he looked back up to her face, his chin dipped and his eyes sparkling.

"Well in that case, you want to do the honors, Doll?" Negan said suddenly, holding the gun out towards her.

But Blake took a step into him, before staring over at Charles coolly.

"Hmmmmm, I'm not sure," she uttered in a purring voice, with a wrinkle of her nose, turning back to Negan. "I think this is more a job for Lucille."

The dark-haired man before her was silent from a short moment, before that tell-tale grin suddenly flicked up onto his lips, his eyes flashing with glee.

"Oh, Darlin'," he eased out, pressing the gun into her hand for her to hold and leaning his entire form in towards her, his lips lingering close to her ear. "You have no idea how hard for you I am right now."

And Blake, in spite of the situation they found themselves in, found herself smirking as he pulled back from her, his dark eyes fixed to her green ones.

"Well you can always show me later," she said in a vixen-like tone, causing Negan to run his tongue across his lips for a brief moment, before turning away from her once more.

As Charles lay there whimpering , Blake stepped back, her green eyes glinting here and there, making sure none of the others tried anything. But in their defence, none of them moved, all of them just watching the scene before them unfold in silence. All obviously knowing full well what was about to happen and none of them doing a thing to stop it.

Negan paced over towards the cowering man, dragging a hand tiredly down his bearded face.

"Oh Charlie, Charlie, Charlie," Negan hummed out in a low voice that held the tension everyone was feeling, swinging Lucille from his gloved hand threateningly.

The man on the ground attempted now to drag his sorry form away from Negan's advancing one.

He looked a far cry from the bold and arrogant man threatening both of them just a few short moments ago.

But Blake knew of course that was the effect Negan had on people, even the most strong people often floored, both literally and metaphorically, by the man himself.

"Somehow I'm startin' to think that you ain't got that dick an' balls you were busy swingin' between your legs jus' now," sighed the dark-haired man in a voice full of goading. "Cause' you strollin' on out here like you were king of the fuckin' castle, pointin' a damn AK47 at us, well, I've gotta admit, I was lookin' forward to a good ol' fashioned, all-guns-a-blazin', fight."

Negan gave a grimace now, swinging Lucille haphazardly and pointing it towards Charles' skull.

"But Charlie," the Saviour sighed again, as Charles stared up at him fearfully, not saying a word now. "I am very fuckin' disappointed. See there ain't many people that have the fuckin' balls to stand up to me."

Negan shrugged, glancing over his shoulder back at Blake.

"I mean maybe Peaches here," he continued, turning back towards Charles once more. "But you see she's a fuckin' special exception."

Blake raised both eyebrows and pursed her lips, almost rolling her eyes at how predictable Negan was being right now. Not that she minded too much of course.

"But god-fuckin'-dammit do I miss the thrill of an asshole like you steppin' out of the damn ranks, strollin' on up, threatenin' me. But, shit, jus' like a guy in line for the bathroom after a bad truck-stop burrito…. if only you could've followed the. fuck. THROUGH!"

Negan's now-furious voice rang out loud and echoing through the clearing, sending a small group of birds that had been nesting in a nearby tree, fleeing into the air with a mass of screeching calls.

The sound reverberated for a second as Negan visibly seethed, his square shoulders raised, and his teeth now bared in a look of utter distaste at the man now squirming desperately on the ground before him.

Blake had to admit, she almost felt a little bad for the guy, probably just in too deep. Wanting to stand up and be strong for his people, wanting to help them. Just like any leader would.

And for a split second Blake had half a mind to step forwards and stop Negan from making his next move.

But what Charles did next, made her stop in her tracks suddenly…

"Please," cried the man on the ground in a sudden weak voice, peering up at Negan fearfully, his eyes now wide and his voice full of desperation. "P-Please. None of this should be on me. This wasn't my idea…."

He turned and pointed a shaking hand suddenly in the direction of Martha and the others.

"...it was theirs! P-Please...i-if you want to punish anyone, it should be them. They came up with this plan. Not me. It's them that's to blame for all this."

And suddenly Blake was taken back to a familiar voice who had spoken a set of eerily similar words, back in that dusty Sanctuary lot all those many, many months ago.

Back then the cowardly David had done just what Charles was doing now, trying to backtrack, trying to blame others for his own doing. Trying to get others hurt, to save his own skin.

Blake's blood boiled at this, her eyes becoming all of sudden black.

"You utter fucking asshole," she spat suddenly, marching forward on her long legs, shoving past Negan and pointing the barrel of the gun to Charles' skull.

The man before her whimpered, holding his hands aloft.

But Blake had had enough.

She looked up to Negan to at her side, her green eyes meeting with his.

"We done here?" she asked simply.

And Negan gave a knowing nod, grimacing and stepping easily back.

"Oh we sure are, Peaches," Negan murmured out, knowing exactly what Blake was about to do.

And the blonde, with eyes full of utter hatred for the man on the ground before her, merely uttered out a low "good" before firing the gun into the man's skull.

The kickback of the gun jolted her shoulder hard, as blood and viscera spurted out of the back of Charles skull tearing it easily apart.

The brown haired man seemed to flounder there for a moment with a vacant expression before collapsing onto his side. Dead.

Everything seemed to fall silent after that, as Blake gave a sniff, lowering the gun and turning to face Negan.

But the dark-haired Saviour was already staring back at her, his gaze a little questioning.

"Reminded me too much of someone I used to know," Blake explained, before pursing her lips.

And Negan immediately seemed to understand, blinking with recognition of just who she could have been talking about.

"Prick had it comin'," he growled. "Both pricks actually."

The blonde woman gave a small sigh, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as Negan leaned into her once more.

"Jus' wanna let you know though," he said in a meaningful voice. "Your ass looked fuckin' incredible when you were blowin' a hole through ol' Charlie-boy's dome back there."

Blake raise a single slender eyebrow upwards, leaning back on her hip and eyeing him.

"You only saying that because you still think you're gonna get that blow job?" she asked, tutting.

But Negan merely flashed her a grin.

"And am I?"

But Blake merely pursed her lips, smirking and turned away from him, leaving him without an answer.

She strolled easily over to Martha now, knowing Negan's eyes were following her as she went, her face becoming serious now as she stared into the eyes of the other woman.

Martha looked back at Blake nervously but held her gaze.

"How much supplies do you have?" the blonde asked in a gentle voice. Probably far more soft than Martha and the others probably expected after what had happened to Charles.

Martha glanced at the young guy at her side momentarily before turning back to Blake, here eyes flicking over to Negan over Blake's shoulder for a second as she did so.

"We have a little water, probably a couple of days worth, and some cans of food, but not much…" she started in a nervous sounding voice. "...that's why Charles...I-I….we're so sorry...we never meant for anything like this to-"

"Its fine," Blake said with a small shake of her head, her eyes earnest.

None of this, or what Charles had done, was these people's fault.

From this angle staring right at them all, even in the dim evening light Blake could see how gaunt and scrawny these people were, probably surviving off next to nothing for weeks on end.

Blake worried at her bottom lip with her teeth for a short second before she looked over her shoulder back at Negan who was pacing slowly over towards her, barbed wire-covered bat brought up onto his shoulder..

Her eyes met with his and she knew that he understood exactly what she was thinking.

That's why they made a good team. Why they always had been...

For Negan could read her like a book. And vice versa.

And the dark-haired Saviour made no move to argue with her now, merely coming to stop just a foot or two behind her, letting her do what she need to do,

Blake took a breath of air through her nose turning back around slowly, staring once again at Martha, parting her lips.

"How many are you?" she asked in a quiet voice.

Martha blinked rapidly as though she had not quite been expecting this question.

"I...uh...there's twelve of us here," she replied with a stammer. "Plus we have two young kids and their mom just behind that tree line over there."

Blake waited as Martha turned and nodded to a man just over her shoulder who yelled out one of the trio's names. Causing them to appear from the tree-line a little further up the road a second later, all clutching each other's hands and approaching the group.

Blake paused for a moment, looking from the group, to the space at the back of their large pick-up truck then back over to Negan, pursing her lips into a thin line.

"You think we can get them all back to the Sanctuary in that thing?" she asked in a tired voice.

And Negan, rocking back on his heels, pulled a face and surveyed the truck to his right.

"Well we can give it a good fuckin' try, Darlin'..." he mused, looking back at her, his lips curving up into an arrogant grin.

"...I mean, they don' call us the Saviours for nothin'."

Masterlist can be found on my profile page. 

[thereasontherumisgone]

The Wayward Boys ( pt. 6 )

( pt. 5 ) 

Taglist: @thatgaydemigodnerd 

And now the story can begin, all the players are gathered and soon they will need to take up their roles and play the game well. The Creator, The Glitch, The Demon, The Knight, The Agent, The Genius and The Hacker are all finally in one place, safe from the threat of their own worlds, nothing could follow them here. It’s as secure as the void itself. 

Where they were was the last part that existed of the Godly plane that Godric, Petyr and their friends would rule from, specifically this was Petyr���s part of that plane, a massive life fill forest that seemingly went on forever to the naked eye, but if you were willing to wander for a few days, you’d find yourself walking in circles. In the center of this forest was one giant tree, safely comparable to The Leaning Tower of Pisa, if it was upright and with a width to support it’s tall structure, definitely big enough to live in and Jay only proved this theory the closer he got to the tree and noticed the smaller signs of something living in that tree, small windows, vines seemingly tied together to form a swing that sat close to a large hole near the branch, oh and the lanterns and the sound of a certain Doctor calling out from above. “Oh hey buddy it’s nice to see you-- Oh god I lost the spider where is it-?!” Before disappearing back into the small window in which they appeared. 

“I see they’ve all made themselves somewhat comfortable.” Jay found himself commenting as he followed Petyr into the tree, they were now heading up a stairway seemingly crafted by the tree itself. 

“I forgot Doctor Oakes doesn’t like spiders. . .To my knowledge they’ve killed three already, which saddens me.” Petyr let out a sigh but shrugged not long before continuing upwards and both remained quiet until they got to a door, where Petyr paused. “I may have forgot to mention a few things. . .” 

“Oh god of course you have. . .what have you brought me into this time?” Jay rubbed the bridge of his nose and Petyr opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again and showed the facial expressions of a man trying to deliver bad news without the receiver of the bad news just walking away. 

“Well. . .The Agent that I told you about is Agent Aleksander Parker. . .Fully brought back from the dead with only minor difficulties.” Petyr started off and monitored the look of ‘What?’ on Jay’s face turn to confusion, realization, sadness, back to confusion but with a hint of disgust. 

“You- You did what to him?!” Jay exclaimed but quietly as to not alert anyone on the other side of that door. 

“Found his body, brought him back. . .Someone drew smiley faces over his nipples for some reason. . .Listen it’s just been a messed up day and it’s only going to get worse.” Petyr sighed again.

“What else? If there is anything else?” Jay asked, only two seconds later to be regretting it when the doors were pulled open and Jay was greeted by his doppelganger, who had the most smug look on his face as he pulled both Petyr and Jay into the room. 

“Hey ol’ buddy, ol’ pal, long time no see!” James said excitedly as he pat both of Jay’s cheeks which was returned by Jay flashing glowing blue eyes as his way of quietly threatening the other. “And still as friendly as ever! I missed you so much! When was the last time we spoke? Banks hostages or--?” 

“When you were in Super Max, not going to ask how you got out or who helped you.” Jay took a step back from James and sent Petyr a look. 

“It was either him or Legohead, Legohead makes your friend here look normal.” Godric spoke up, previously was just sitting in the corner with a drink that looked similar to whiskey and a book, classy. 

“Don’t compare me to that weirdo.” James huffed. “By the way you look like shit.” He looked back at Jay. 

“Can someone please explain why we’re all here now? Now that Petyr has returned with Mr Barkley.” A person with a mask that had some voice modulator on it spoke up and Jay mentally took a guess. The Hacker. And he was correct. 

“I agree with Mr Seven, I only know the basics of why I’m here and as much as I love you Plant Man, I am a busy person.” Addison said as they sat stitching up a jacket that was a little too big and worn for Addison’s typical look. 

“Wait what about the weird zombie guy in the other room?” A young red head said, raising his hand slightly. “Was he kidnapped also or is he. . .” The kid gestured vaguely in Godric’s direction. “His project.” 

“Mr Parker has had a long day, he’ll be caught up when he’s rested and when he starts functioning at a slightly higher level than confused 8 year old.” Godric answered, still reading his book.

“Okay beautiful, thank you, continue talking.” The kid looked back at the group and nodded to Petyr.

“Thank you,” Petyr started. “You’ve all been assembled here today because Godric and I need a team of capable people to stop the end of the world, we chose you all not because of your impeccable lack of survival instincts or reluctance to work with outside parties, but because when faced with a challenge or a threat you can all get the job done in your own ways.” The god explained and a man with tanned skin and dark hair rose his hand. “Yes Mr Marquez?” 

“Yeah not my question but one from my uhh. . .roommate.” He spoke. “But why is there a kid here if the world is going to end?” 

“The kid can kick your ass.” The red head said with a frown, Mr Marquez, more commonly known as Rusty held his hands up. 

“I’m sure that could happen but my point still stands.” Rusty said and Petyr looked at Cody and gave a nod, then Cody was covered in his golden armour which allowed Jay to put together that the kid is The Knight so this Mr Marquez and his roommate must be The Demon. 

“How about now?” Cody’s voice said from inside the armour, Rusty had a wicked smile and mumbled something to himself that sounded like ‘Just scare him.’ from where Jay was standing before Rusty’s upperhalf was quickly overcome by a large shadowy creature which began to take form, limbs growing from a strange mixture of a black ooze, dark hairs and shadows quickly took the form of something out of a horror film, long hair covering most of it’s face and it’s back arched over to look down at the small human in the shiny costume and it let out a shrill screech before disappearing. 

“Oh my god you’re possessed by the girl from The Ring.” James commented from across the room. “So what’s the deal? You wear her for Halloween and she wears you for the rest of the year?” James asked, Rusty glared at him. 

“Alright Punk Edit, what can you do?” He asked and James grinned, about to stand up when a blue light forced him back down. 

“If we’re all done comparing ourselves, some of us want to know why we’re here.” Jay said, one hand in his pocket while the other had a faint blue glow around it. “Here how about I share the gory details on all our powers? Seven over there is a telepathic hacker who is very shy about people knowing his actual name and all that shit, Dr Oakes doesn’t have super powers but is one of the strongest people in the room from what I’ve seen so far, James can fuck up reality and I go around fixing it.” Everyone was quiet and Rusty held his hands up, taking a step back while at some point during Jay’s rant Cody’s armour had disappeared. 

“Uh. . .Well Hi I’m Cody Miller and my superpower is that I have a very. . .symbiotic attachment to some sentient magical armour that lives in my body. . .It identifies as he and answers to Reigner.” Cody spoke up, mainly looking at the floor. 

“My old work colleagues used to call me Rusty so. . .I’m Rusty and I’m possessed by a demon that yes, is a woman and please refrain from making those jokes.” Addison stood up from their seat and took a step forward. 

“Addison Oakes, I’m super rich and super smart, pretty sure I’m here to be the medic which I’m cool with. . .” They spoke with a nod. 

“Just refer to me as Seven the computer nerd.” Seven mumbled from across the room a Godric stood up. 

“Godric, old god of Death, here to be your mentor for the weeks ahead.” The God decided to join, followed by his friend. 

“I’m Petyr, God of. . .a lot of things, also a mentor.” 

“James Barkley, not from this universe but if anyone is ending it it’s me and it’s out of spite.” 

“Jay Barkley, from this universe, recently just quit my job and hoping to help.” 

[quickeningheart]

Nineteen

     Charley was waist-deep in the posterior of Alley's bus when the sound of an approaching car caught her attention. Pulling out and wiping her filthy hands on a well-used towel, she watched as a taxi pulled up to the garage. And both eyebrows shot into her hairline when, after a moment, the door opened and Alley struggled out into the street, dragging her pack after her. She looked as if the entire world had just collapsed around her ears.

    “Jiminy Christmas, Alley Cat! Who died?” Alarmed, Charley hurried forward to usher her drooping cousin out of the heat. The guys also stopped what they were doing, watching the exchange with concern etched on their fuzzy faces.

    “My entire academic career, apparently,” Alley mumbled with a tired sigh.

    Charley paused mid-step, exchanging confused glances with the mice. “…Huh?”

    The blonde dropped into the desk chair and ran her hands through her hair; taking a deep breath, she began to explain the situation, and by the time she’d finished, Charley was livid.

    “They can’t—This isn’t—You didn’t—We can’t just let this go!” she sputtered, pacing angrily around the garage, shrugging off Vinnie’s comforting hand. “You never would have cheated! Never! And it’s just too suspicious that this all came up now.”

    “Yeah,” Modo agreed, tail twitching with agitation. “Somebody’s definitely settin’ you up, and it’s got ol’ Lard Butt's stench all over it.”

    “But why? What would Limburger possibly gain from ruining my chances at a scholarship and my academic reputation?”

    Throttle huffed. “She’s got a point. The stinkfish’s pulled some pretty crazy stunts, but it’s always been for some sorta profitable gain. This just ain’t his style.”

    They fell silent, considering. Alley finally sighed and forced herself to her feet. “My best guess is, it’s just a prank some bored jerk played, and I got unlucky enough to be on the receiving end of it. I’ve gotta go do some damage control. This has gotta get sorted out as soon as possible or I can kiss that scholarship goodbye for real.” She groaned and hid her face in her hands. “And I’ve gotta call my mother.”

    “Ouch.” Charley offered a sympathetic smile. “Want some moral support?”

    She huffed a short laugh. “Give me a few hours. If I’m not down by sunset, better come search for my body. She probably managed to find a way to strangle me through the phone.”

     ~*~*~*~*~

    Throttle knocked at Alley’s door, his concern growing at her continuing silence from the other side. He increased the pressure of his fist against the wood until he finally heard her stirring, then a mumbled “Come in”. He poked his head through the doorway, watching as she sat up and scrubbed at her eyes, which looked red and blotchy even in the dim light. He gulped, the urge to turn tail and bolt settling over him, but he ignored the desire to flee and instead stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. He stood there, shifting uncomfortably as he struggled to find the right thing to say. He really hated dealing with crying women.

    Alley noticed his fidgeting and gave him a weak smile. She’d changed into a tank top and a pair of lounge pants. Her hair hung in two long braids over her shoulders, and she’d washed the makeup off her face, leaving it strangely pale and bare, the dark circles under her eyes standing in stark contrast. Throttle thought she looked young and very vulnerable without her usual armor to fortify her. His protective finally instincts rose. “You okay?” he asked quietly.

    She offered a one-shouldered shrug. “Been better,” she admitted, running a hand through her hair, dislodging part of a braid. “I’ve been on the phone for hours, making calls. Never talked so much in my life. I’m tired.”

    He hummed, stepping further into the room. “You talk to your folks?”

    “I called my dad first and explained. He told my mom for me. Who then proceeded to call me back and rip me a new one.”

    Throttle straightened, frowning. “Why? This isn’t your fault.”

    She sighed heavily. “I dunno. Maybe it is. When I was younger, I really slacked off in school. Hardly studied, barely passed my tests, handed in homework when I felt like it. I didn’t put in any real effort and my grades suffered as a result. I just … didn’t care.” She smiled faintly. “I guess I was more interested in fitting in with my friends, who all would've rather been sneaking out to late-night movies or parties down on the beach. Drove my parents nuts.” At his dubious expression, she hastened to add, “I was never into anything illegal! Well … okay, I did drink a bit, and I snuck into R-rated movies without paying a few times. But I didn’t shoplift or use drugs or sleep around with guys or stuff like that. My girlfriends, though. Most of them were pretty hardcore.”

    He tsked. “Sounds like you needed to get some new friends.”

    She huffed. “You sound like my parents,” she shot back, wrinkling her nose. She sat back with a sigh. “Thing is, in Montana, all that never really interested me. I might not look it now, but I used to be a lot like Charley. I rode horses and climbed trees and went camping in the woods. I tinkered around in the garage on bicycles for my friends and helped my dad and uncle fix engines. I did my homework and studied for my tests and got good grades.” She smiled faintly at the memories.

    “When Dad packed up and moved us to Florida, it was like … like moving to an alien planet.” She smirked when he snorted. “Everything was so different. The first few years weren’t so bad, but then I hit puberty and started … growing parts, and the only things my friends ever talked about were boyfriends and fashion and celebrities… I didn't really care about that stuff, but I felt like I either had to make myself fit in, or lose the friends I had. And after awhile, it all sorta became second nature.”

    Throttle moved to sit on the edge of the bed, curious despite himself. At last, he was discovering the mystery of why Alley was so different from her cousin, despite being raised in the same sort of household. He tried to picture her as a younger version of Charley, scrappy and tomboyish. He gave it up after a few moments. It was just impossible; she’d adapted herself too well. “So, something changed along the way,” he hinted, wanting to know more.

    “I flunked out of tenth grade,” she admitted with a huff. “Well, almost. I had to take summer classes to make up all the work I missed. A lot of them. And my dad finally sat me down and gave me a long lecture.” She shook her head with a whimsical smile. “Let me tell you, I thought my mother could guilt trip, but she’s got nothin’ on Daddy. He’s pretty laid back and easygoing, but when he decides to lay into you, look out.”

    Throttle grinned, earning another small smile in response. “After that,” she continued, “I realized I didn’t want to disappoint him anymore. I don’t want to be a daughter who embarrasses him, makes him ashamed to talk about me. So, for those summer classes, I managed to pull my grades up enough to pass tenth grade, and when my junior year started, I made myself work. Skipped all those parties and stayed home to study and do all my homework, and my grades shot up. It wasn’t easy. I had to break a lot of bad habits. But I did it.”

    “I can see why this whole situation is so upsetting for you,” Throttle said thoughtfully, “but I still don’t see how it makes it your fault.”

    “My parents always told me my behavior would come back someday and bite me in the ass. Karmic justice and all that. Mom spent most of our conversation saying ‘I told you so’.” Alley rolled her eyes. “I kinda feel like she’s right.”

    “She's too hard on you,” Throttle protested, tail twitching against the floor. “We all do stupid shit as kids, right?”

    “Sure, but she’s always been hard on me. She's very overprotective. She’s not a bad mother, don’t get me wrong. It’s just that her life, growing up … it wasn’t easy. She went through a lot, had a lot of struggles before meeting Dad. She doesn’t want me to end up like she nearly did.” Alley smiled faintly. “To be fair, after she got through yelling at me, she started threatening to march straight to the heads of the school board and rip them a new one, too. And she says she’ll FedEx some of my old reports and any other paperwork she can dig up to prove my grades had been changed. Hell, knowing her, she’ll have half of Florida rallying in my defense by the end of the week. Nobody messes with her baby.”

    “So your parents will help you get all this sorted.”

    “Yeah.” She sighed heavily, her good humor vanishing. “Dad told me to accept that I might not be getting back to school this year, though. He also suggested I retake the SATs. Said it might help to prove I didn’t cheat the first time.” Her shoulders slumped. “I guess he’s probably right, but the thought of going through all that again is just exhausting.”

    “Well, it’s something, at least. It ain’t the end of the world, Alley-girl,” Throttle tried to encourage. “How come you look like your best friend just died?”

    She flinched, looking startled. Then she dropped her face into her hands as a low, derisive laugh slipped free. He frowned, wondering what he’d said to incite such a reaction.

    “D’you ever get the feeling,” she mumbled into her hands, “that the entire universe is out to turn your life into one great, big cosmic joke?”

    He hesitated, confused … until she gestured vaguely at Mercedes’s cage. He glanced down, noted the door was half-open. His eyes widened as his gaze darted around the room, noting any place that a little rat could squeeze into and escape. Until he realized she was still in the cage, half-curled in her pile of shredded paper, still and unmoving.

    Far too still.

    His heart gave a sick sort of lurch as he knelt on the floor for a better look. “Aw, Cheese,” he breathed. “Alley-girl, I’m—I didn’t mean—”

    She waved off his fumbled attempts to apologize. “Mercy was almost four years old. That’s like … ancient in rat years,” she explained, her voice small and tight. “I probably shouldn’t have brought her with me, but my mom didn’t really like her and my dad is too busy with his business, you know? My friends, well, I wouldn’t trust most of them to care for a houseplant, much less a living creature.” Her face crumpled a bit. “I went to feed her and … she just wouldn’t wake up. I wonder how long she’s been like this. This morning I—” She choked slightly. “If she was dead then, I didn’t even notice. I feel awful. I don’t even remember if she ate when I gave her pellets this morning.”

    “It ain’t your fault,” he told her, feeling lame for even saying something so trite.

    “I knew she was going to die eventually. She was really starting to show her age. She even hissed at me a few times, like she didn't know me.” She offered a weak smile. “Just … she had to go today of all days? Cosmic joke, see?” She heaved a long sigh, tucking her knees under her chin as she perched on the edge of the bed. “I guess now I have to find a place to bury her, too. I don’t even know where to look. I can’t just … toss her into the garbage.”

    Throttle considered. “You got a box for her or something?”

    She slid off the bed and knelt beside him on the floor, sliding a shoebox filled with folded paper towels forward. She reached into the cage, hesitated. Throttle noted a fine tremor in her hand as it hovered over Mercedes’s body. “I … I can’t make myself touch her again,” she finally admitted, blinking rapidly. “She’s so … cold. It gives me the creeps. I’m terrible, aren’t I?”

    Throttle patiently pulled her hand away, reached in to ever-so-gently scoop the stiff little body into his palm, depositing it and a handful of shavings into the box. He didn’t much like rats, but for the first time he was sorry to see one die. Alley covered her pet with clean wood shavings before closing the box and taping the lid shut.

    “Come on.” He stood, tucking the makeshift coffin under his arm, offered a hand to pull her to her feet. “Put on your shoes and a jacket. Might get cold,” he instructed.

    Mystified, she nevertheless obeyed, slipping on a pair of Vans and a long blue hoodie sweater as she followed him down to the garage. “Where is everyone?” she asked, noting the complete absence of people. The clock on the wall read six-thirty, well before closing time.

    “Out doin’ a little recon,” he replied with a chuckle. “Charley-girl decided to take it on herself to get a look at that computer an’ see what’s up.”

    Alley gaped. “They’re breaking into the school files?”

    “Not all of ‘em. Just yours. If it’s been hacked, it can probably be traced. Charley'll figure it out.”

    “Unless she gets caught and arrested, first. It isn’t exactly legal, you know.”

    “Neither is goin’ into a student’s files an’ changin’ all their grades, right? Don’t worry, she does this sorta stuff all the time.”

    “Oh, that makes me feel better.” She pursed her lips and eyeballed him. “And poor you got stuck babysitting me. Again.”

    “I was actually plannin’ to invite you along. But this is a bit more important right now. They can do without us.” He carefully stashed the box in a compartment on the bike and held out a second helmet. “Hop on.”

    She hesitated, then shrugged. “Sure, why not,” she sighed. “The day I’ve been having, what else could possibly go wrong?” She seated herself gingerly behind him and jammed the helmet over her head, jumped a little when his long tail coiled tightly around her waist.

    “Better hang on,” he warned, and she caught his devilish grin right before the engine roared to life. The heavy door rattled open, and they shot out of the garage with a screech of rubber, Alley’s squeal of fright lingering in the air behind them.

     ~*~*~*~*~

    Throttle navigated Chicago’s busy streets with practiced ease as Alley clung to him for dear life, afraid she'd be thrown from the cycle despite the firm grip he maintained around her waist, and her even firmer grip around his chest. She wasn’t sure whether or not to be glad they were racing at such a breakneck speed. On one hand, riding with one of the biker mice was pretty much as terrifying as she’d imagined. On the other, at this speed, it was a lot harder for people to notice that she was out gallivanting around the city in nothing but her pajamas. She hadn’t even bothered to put her bra back on, a mistake she was kicking herself over. She really hoped her chauffeur wouldn’t notice, as tightly as she was clinging to him.

    It wasn’t long before they passed the city limits, and soon after that they reached open highway and the heavy traffic began to lighten. That’s when he really let loose; the bike shot forward in the same manner as a racing horse being given its head. Alley squeaked and tightened her hold, and Throttle’s husky chuckle piped through the intercom in her helmet.

    Despite the increased speed, the ride was a lot smoother without the constant sharp dodging and weaving he’d been doing inside the city. She found herself slowly relaxing, arms loosening. The wind cut around them, tearing at her hair and clothes, but being pressed so close to his large, furry body provided more than adequate heat. She rested her head against his back and breathed deeply, closing her eyes and starting to enjoy the ride.

    Eventually, she noticed a change in speed; he slowed, took a seemingly random exit off the highway. He drove a little further before turning off the main road onto what seemed to be an unpaved back road. The ride was rougher here as the bike kicked up dust and loose stones, bouncing over uneven ruts. She tucked her legs further up to protect them from flying debris. “Where are we going?” she asked.

    “You’ll see in a second.”

    True to word, he shortly turned off the road and coasted to a stop. She slid off the bike, trying to stomp some feeling back into her shaky legs as she steadied herself against the seat. She gave the crankshaft a little pat. “Thanks for the ride,” she said awkwardly. “You're, um, a good driver. Hope that road wasn't too hard on your suspension.”  

    The bike gave a short, sharp beep in reply, making her jump, then laugh. “I'm never gonna get used to that,” she said, mirroring Throttle's grin. Her smile faded when she got her first view of their destination, eyes widening as she took in a large, sparkling lake surrounded by trees. “Wow, where are we?”

    “Me ‘n the bros found this place a few years back. Well, Limburger found it, actually. We had to save it from bein’ ripped up and shipped off to Plutark. We come out here from time t’ time when we need to relax and unwind. There’s usually nobody else here.”

    “Kinda like a secret hideout?” she teased.

    “Heh. Something like that.” He removed the box from its compartment. “Figured it’d be a good place to bury your friend, here. Nobody’ll disturb her this way.”

    “Unless Limburger tries to tear it up again,” she pointed out.

    He scratched his head. “Funny thing about the stinkfish. When his plans get ruined once, he usually doesn’t go back an’ try again. Just moves on to the next scheme.”

    Alley considered. “Plutarkians aren’t a very intelligent race, are they?”

    Throttle chuckled. “Well, there’s plenty of space. Anywhere particular you’d like to bury her?”

    She wandered toward the lakeshore, stopping in front of a towering willow. After a moment’s thought, she ducked under its drooping boughs. The light was dimmer here, the air cooler and a bit damp. The earth around the trunk was loose. “This’ll be a good place. It’ll be easy to dig up,” she decided. “How about here, between the roots?”

    He dropped to his knees beside her, pulled a utility knife from his belt and dug it into the loose soil. Alley helped, using her hands to pull dirt from the growing hole.

    Throttle paused, reached in and pulled out a six-inch worm, dangling it in front of Alley’s face with a smirk. She just rolled her eyes and kept digging. “Not afraid of bugs?” he asked, surprised.

    “Why? They’re just bugs.” She glanced up, a smile curling her lips. “Although, that huge spider crawling over your shoulder is sorta—” She broke off with a snicker when he immediately started to beat at himself, trying to knock it away. Until he realized there was nothing there to begin with. He shot her a dirty look as she openly laughed. “I don’t like spiders,” he grumbled.

    “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind,” she promised with a sly grin.

    When the hole was about a foot deep, Throttle stopped digging and picked up the box. “Wait.” Alley stopped him with her hand on his. “Let’s … leave the box,” she said. “This way, Mercy can feed the tree. Circle of life, you know?”

    Unquestioning, he slit the tape on the lid. When he would have picked up the rat, Alley stopped him again. “Let me.” Eyebrows raising, he offered the box. She took a deep breath, reached in to scoop up the body, unable to hide her shudder as she quickly deposited it into the hole and pushed the dirt back in. She paused to wipe straggling hair out of her face, leaving a muddy streak behind. Throttle patted the soil back down until it was firm. Then, to her surprise, he used the knife to carve Mercedes’s name into the base of the tree, followed with “beloved pet”. Finally, he held his hand over the grave, murmuring words in a strange language.

    She stared at him, eyes wide. “What did you just say?”

    He looked a little sheepish as he pulled off his specs and tucked them into his belt; the light had dimmed even further by then and he was finding it harder to see with them on. “It was a Martian blessing, to wish safe passage into the other world,” he explained. “A bit corny, I guess.”

    “No! That was incredibly thoughtful of you. Thank you, Throttle.” She took his hand into both of hers, giving it a grateful squeeze. Then, on impulse, pulled him down a bit and reached to press a soft kiss to his fuzzy cheek. He blinked and reared back, caught by surprise.

    Alley ducked her head, face flaming as she immediately released his hand and stepped away with an embarrassed laugh. “Ah. S-sorry. I just … um…” She glanced at her muddy palms. “Oh. I should wash my hands.”

    Grateful for the distraction, she hurried from the cover of the tree, kneeling by the lake to swirl her hands through the water. What had possessed her to do that? Sure, she was grateful for everything he’d done, but to kiss him? She could still feel the warm fur against her lips, and it didn’t disgust her nearly as much as she thought it ought to. After all, she reasoned, she’d kissed Mercedes on the head plenty of times, hadn’t she? Was it really so different?

    She glanced over her shoulder, finding that Throttle had made himself comfortable on the grass behind her, gazing at the sky, where the first stars were just making themselves known. His legs were crossed as he leaned on his hands. A gentle breeze ruffled the fur on his arms and chest, played through his golden mane. His expression was peaceful, eyes lidded sleepily. Her heart skipped strangely at the picture as she hastily turned away again. Yes, she decided. It was different. It was a lot different.

    Her hands were more than clean by then. She rose from her place and shyly sat beside him, not quite able to meet his eyes when he glanced down at her. “Feel better?” he asked after a moment.

    “Yeah.” She managed a small smile. “Thanks.” They sat in silence for a moment, before she squirmed. “Soooo … shouldn’t we head back to the city now?” she hinted.

    “Nah. We came all the way out here. Might as well stay a bit. You said you wanted to stargaze awhile back, remember?” He glanced down at her with a small grin as she blinked, then flushed.

    “I’d rather you didn’t remember,” she groaned, hiding her face in her arms. “That was not my finest moment.” She heard him chuckle, jumped a bit when his hand came to rest on her head, ruffling her hair with a playful gesture. Apparently, he wasn’t gonna hold that kiss against her. She relaxed a bit, looking up at the sky where more stars had made their appearance. So had the moon, slowly coming into view over the line of trees. “Wow,” she sighed. “They really are clearer without all the lights in the way.”

    “You stargaze a lot at home?”

    “From the beach, mostly. But even then, there are always too many lights to really see them. The best stargazing I ever did was when me and Charley took our vacations on Pop-pop’s ranch. We’d take his big telescope and go into the middle of a field and watch meteor showers. We always made a zillion wishes on them. Most of which never did come true, come to think of it.” She huffed a laugh. “Did you stargaze a lot back home? I mean, before you joined the Freedom Fighters and all?”

    “Not really. Never really took the time to appreciate ‘em. Least not until I was up there traveling through ‘em,” he replied.

    “Have you been on a lot of deep space missions?” Alley turned to face him, face lighting up. “That must be amazing, getting to visit other planets and other galaxies and stuff. I mean, that sort of thing is nothing but science fiction here. We’ve never been past the moon.”

    “I have seen some pretty incredible places,” he admitted, a hint of pride creeping into his voice. “Haven’t taken a lot of the deep space missions—Those’re usually reserved for Army, which we ain’t—but there were a few where they enlisted the Fighters’ help. Needed our … special touch to get the job done right.” His smile was feral, making her shiver.

    “What was your favorite trip?” she asked.

    He thought for a moment. “They weren't exactly pleasure cruises, ya know. But there was one planet with a suspected Plutarkian outpost they needed us to infiltrate. It was an ice planet, completely frozen. Planet itself was boring as hell, and the outpost turned out to be a false lead so it was a wasted trip. But that sky…” He whistled softly. “The atmosphere was poisonous, but the entire sky was a display of crystallized gas and reflected light. It looked a lot like Earth’s Northern Lights. Only even more incredible.” He shook his head, shrugging. “I can’t even put it into words what it was like. But that's one place I'll never forget visiting.”

    She sat back, gazing at the rising moon thoughtfully. After a moment, she suggested, “You could … just show me, couldn’t you?”

    “Huh?” His head snapped around, eyes widening.

    She blushed. “Well, I mean, like you did when we met and you were explaining everything. All your memories in my head, like pictures.”

    He shifted, clearly uncomfortable. “Ah, that was—I mean, the situation was bit—”

    Her courage fled and she glanced away as she belatedly recalled what the guys had said about their ability’s other use. “No, you’re right. Sorry. It’s not exactly need-to-know information. I’ll just take your word for it.” She huffed a bemused laugh, scratching her head. “Boy, I seem to be stepping all over the boundaries today. Way to stick my foot in it.”

    There was a moment of silence. Then, “I guess … a look wouldn’t hurt.” He offered a lopsided grin when she blinked up at him. “Nothin’ wrong with a quick peek. It really was an amazing sight. I think you’d appreciate it more’n the guys did.”

    “You mean you’ll let me see?”

    He shrugged. “Sure. Why not? Just don’t tell the fellas, huh? I’ll never hear the end of it.”

    “My lips are sealed!” She shifted around to face him, sitting cross-legged in the grass as he mimicked the move. She closed her eyes as he leaned in, mentally bracing herself for the intrusion of a foreign mind into hers. His fingers touched her face, tracing softly down her cheek, making her twitch at the ticklish sensation. His thumb nudged her chin, tilting it up.

    A moment passed. And another. And just when she was starting to believe he’d changed his mind, she startled as an unexpected warmth ghosted across her lips.

    A breath of air. Velvety fur. A soft, warm pressure nuzzling carefully at her mouth; it took her a stunned moment to realize that he was kissing her. His touch was light, questioning … just a bit uncertain. He withdrew, returned a heartbeat later to settle more firmly, and she couldn’t stop a different kind of shiver from trembling over her body.

    It was … different. The shape was all wrong, and the pronounced incisors pressing against her upper lip was a bit distracting. But he kissed her as though she was something fragile, and precious, and she found herself kissing back, learning the shape of his mouth, of how it fit to hers. It felt good, kissing Throttle, and when they parted, she forced her heavy lids open to gaze into his face with breathless wonder.

    His eyes were wide. He was looking at her as if he’d never seen her before, and she felt herself blushing all over again. She licked her lips; his eyes immediately snapped to them, focused and intense. Her breath stuttered in her throat as she swallowed. “Th-that’s not quite how I remember it happening, last time around,” she joked weakly, trying to break the odd, building tension between them.

    Her voice seemed to snap him back to reality. He blinked; the hands gripping her shoulders almost painfully were suddenly gone as he snatched them away, holding them up. “S-sorry! I wasn’t—I shouldn’t ‘ve—”

    He made a move as if to rise, but her hand shot out to snag his vest, holding him there. He blinked down at it, looking as startled as she felt by her bold move. She ducked her head to hide her burning face. “D-do you hear me complaining?” she mumbled, releasing his clothes to pull her hand back … only to find it trapped under his, pressed to his chest. His skin through the fur was hot against her fingers; his heart thrummed hard and fast against her palm.

    She slowly raised her eyes again, her own heart kicking into a hard gallop when their gazes clashed. He was giving her that look again. As if he was seeing her for the first time, and didn’t know quite what to make of her. His free hand slid into her tangled hair, cupping her head. He was so close that she could feel his breath stirring the wispy tendrils at her temple. And when he lowered his head, her breath hitched with anticipation as his mouth settled softly against hers.

    He was bolder this time, more confident. He tilted her chin, adjusted the angle just so, traced the seam of her lips until they parted. His long tongue dipped in, tasted her deeply; she pulled back after a few moments, panting for air. Undeterred, he nuzzled under her chin, suckling at her throat as her fingers curled into the soft fur of his chest. He pushed forward, and she suddenly found herself on her back, head cradled in his hand. He settled between her legs, a delicious weight against her body; his fur was warm and silky against the bared skin of her stomach where her thin shirt had ridden up, sending an unexpected flush of arousal straight through her thighs. He kissed her again, and she slipped her arms around him, under his vest. Her fingers buried into his thick fur, nails dragging lightly along his hot skin as she stroked the long length of his back.

    His reaction was a massive shudder, bucking his hips against her, and a different sort of heat thrust between her thighs, an exciting hardness prodding insistently at her core. She gasped, instinctively pushing back. He finally broke the kiss to nip at her ear, murmuring, his voice husky and deep. Foreign words that she couldn’t understand, but were no less compelling for that.

    It was all happening so fast. She thought she ought to be protesting mightily by this point, but as he nuzzled down her throat and peppered soft kisses across her skin, she couldn’t seem to find her voice around the shaking breaths see-sawing between her lips. She trembled as his hand slipped gently up her stomach, under her shirt, over bare flesh. He’d definitely noticed her missing bra and made no secret that he appreciated the fact as he caressed gently, the worn leather of his glove causing delicious friction against her skin.

    Unfortunately, the ensuing pleasure was offset by the not-so-pleasant experience of something hard and sharp digging insistently into her lower back. She squirmed, trying to avoid the aggravating little rock poking holes into her spine. He took it the wrong way, mistaking her arching back as silent pleas for more. He moved down her chest, pressing soft kisses and playful lovebites along the way, slipping the strap of her shirt over her shoulder to expose her further to his seeking mouth, nuzzling at the swell of her breast. “W-wait a moment,” she panted, trying to push him back.

    He responded with a nip to her breast, through her shirt. She yipped in shock; he’d bitten just a little too hard, tearing cloth and sharply catching skin. The resulting pain was enough to snap her out of her lust-filled stupor. “Stop,” she hissed, and he immediately froze. She softened at his expression, a mixture of worry and guilt. “I-I’ve got … something—There’s a rock or something,” she mumbled, trying to explain as she reached under herself and patted around. She yanked out the offending stone, and he leaned back as she sat up to hurl it away in a flash of irritation. A soft plop sounded from the lake.

    They sat in awkward silence for a moment, before he reached out to trace a gentle hand down her face, studying her carefully. She offered a hesitant smile. He started to lean in again, but her question stopped him. “Sh-should we be doing this?”

    His soft expression shuttered. “You don’t like it?”

    “It’s not that.” She flushed, glancing away. She’d been liking it quite a lot, actually, and wanted nothing more than to let him continue, but…

    “It’s just—I thought you—Don’t you have—?” She broke off, flustered. “What about your Carbine?” she finally blurted, and was rewarded with a slow widening of his eyes, realization dawning in his expression.

    He hissed softly, turning away. She thought she caught a muttered “What am I doing?” before he presented his back to her, fisting his hands into his mane. She regretted even bringing it up. She shifted beside him, not knowing what to say. She felt unaccountably ashamed of herself, making out like that with a taken guy. A very taken guy, if what his friends had told her was true. She wasn’t the type to go around stealing other girls’ boyfriends right out from under their noses. Especially when they weren’t even there to fight for him!

    Still, taken or not, she couldn’t deny the definite attraction she’d developed toward the golden mouse. How strange, for her feelings on the matter to have changed so quickly. Now she just felt embarrassed for criticizing Charley’s choice so harshly. She was definitely starting to see the appeal of Martian mice. It no longer mattered that Throttle was of an alien race. It didn’t matter that he was covered in fur and looked like a rodent. Somewhere in the last few weeks, she’d come to think of all of the mice as being kind of beautiful. Tails, fuzzy ears, bionic parts and all.

    To her, though, Throttle was the most beautiful. She’d been taken completely by his personality. He was like a prince; charming, charismatic, protective. He had the most compassionate heart she’d ever seen. She’d never known a human man who would go so far as to take her to a special place just to bury a dead rat. She thought she might love that about him.

    She glanced at his still profile, shifting uncomfortably as she tried to reconcile with her strange attraction and the fact that, like it or not, he was just not available to pursue it.

    But maybe they broke up, she thought, a small, niggling hope growing. He’d gotten a letter the other week, and hadn’t said a word about it since. Maybe it had been a Dear John note. Or maybe he was having relationship issues and was considering breaking it off. Or maybe—

    Or maybe he’d gotten caught up in the moment, just like you, and had lost his head, she scolded herself, trying to squash down the hateful thoughts. The way she’d been throwing herself at him, it was no wonder he’d made a move! He’d only been responding to her advances, unintentional or not. Looking at it that way, the entire situation was her fault, and now she felt horrible about that, too. She’d never meant to take advantage of his kindness in such a way.

    He finally shifted, catching her attention as he glanced over his shoulder. “Gettin’ kinda late,” he said quietly. “Probably better get back to the garage, before they go out looking.”

    “Oh.” She dropped her gaze, disappointed. “Yeah. You’re right. We should get back.”

    He stood and strode to the bike, leaving her to blink for a moment before she scrambled up to follow him, tightening her sweater around her. She silently put on the helmet, noting that his tail did not hold her as tightly as before when it coiled around her waist. She leaned in to slip her arms around him, thought the better of it. He was so tense now. She leaned back again, settling for resting her hands on his shoulders.

    It was a long, silent ride back to the city. Night had fallen, and the temperature had dropped. Alley was shivering with cold by the time they pulled up to the garage. She got off the bike, handed him the helmet, but held on when he tried to take it. “Throttle?” Her voice was very small. “Thank you for what you did today. With Mercy and everything…” She dropped her gaze. “I’m sorry about—I didn’t mean to let—”

    He looked startled. “What’re you talkin’ about? I’m the one who—” He shook his head. “I let it go too far. I should’ve kept my hands off. I just—You were sittin’ there, all soft and tempting. I couldn’t—” He chuffed a sharp breath, a husky laugh. “Really sad thing is, I wish we were still back there,” he muttered under his breath. Her eyes widened, and he pulled the helmet from her lifeless fingers. “Go on in. You’re shivering.”

    She was. But not just from the cold anymore. “You’re not coming?”

    “Nah. Gotta go clear my head. I’ve got some serious thinkin’ to do. Tell the guys I’ll see ‘em later, yeah?”

    “Okay. Sure. I’ll tell them.”

    He offered a small smile before handing her the empty shoebox. He revved the engine and shot off, tail lights leaving a bright streak behind him.

    She sighed heavily, clutching the box to her chest before turning to trudge into the garage.

Next

[the-everlasting-dream]

The Revelation - Chapter 15, TRR AU

Summary: Olivia takes things into her own hands and thank goodness she does. 

A/N: Two chapters in three days, who even am I? We are FINALLY getting to the fluffy part and eeee i’m squealing, scrapping the original plot was the best decision I ever made lol

Word Count: 5300+

Warnings: language

MASTERLIST

‘Tea Elizabeth?’ 

‘Yes please Hana.’ 

‘Sugar?’ 

‘One… please. Um.. could you.. could you pass the biscuits?’ 

‘Of course.’ 

’Thank you.’ ‘

You’re welcome.’ 

 ‘Enough!’ Olivia Nevrakis slammed her hands on the table top, finallly voicing her frustration. ‘I can’t take it anymore! How can you just prattle on like nothing’s happened?' 

‘Olivia I don’t…’ Hana tried to interject, but was silenced by a dismissive wave from the redhead who turned on Elizabeth. 

 ‘So..?’

She paused, eyes wide with a biscuit half way to her mouth. The three of them were seated in the gazebo in the main garden, taking tea at Hana’s suggestion that the fresh air would be good for Elizabeth. She’d been back in Cordonia for about a week and was still nervous about everything, only leaving her Atlantean mansion if necessary. Hana had offered to move in with her to keep her company and eventually Elizabeth had confessed what had happened at the hospital. Her best friend of course had been very understanding and accommodating to her reclusive wishes. Perhaps a little too accommodating, Olivia thought, one red eyebrow arched as she waited for an answer. 

Elizabeth set the biscuit back down on the table, obviously uncomfortable under her scrutinising gaze. ‘Olivia I don’t know what you want me to do.’ 

She heaved an exaggerated sigh. ‘You can drop the pathetic act. It doesn’t suit you. Get over yourself and stop playing princess in your ivory tower. I want you to do something, anything Elizabeth.’ 

‘I did,’ Elizabeth replied, voice soft but holding a slight edge to it. ‘I went to the hospital, I saw him, he obviously didn’t want to see me. Or did you miss the part where Savannah slapped me?’ 

‘And you’re just gonna let that little tart get away with that?’ Hana gasped in alarm. 

‘Olivia!’

The redhead ignored her raising both eyebrows now, glare trained on Elizabeth who stubbornly refused to respond. After a few seconds, Olivia lost her patience.  

‘If you insist on being difficult, I’m not going to sit by an watch the two of you go in circles.’ With that she stormed off back to the house. 

Though she didn’t say his name, Elizabeth knew what Olivia was getting at but she couldn’t get over the image of Drake’s accusatory gaze on her. If he really wanted to see her, he would have called right? A stab of regret shot through her which she immediately pushed down. Her feelings were a mess and lately it was just easier to push them down and pretend they didn’t exist. This was usually easier said than done especially now as she could feel tears welling in her eyes, hating herself for being reduced to a pathetic blubbering mess.

‘Elizabeth…’ Hana consoled gently, sliding over to comfort her. 

 ‘Its fine. I’m fine,’ she replied, dabbing away the moisture before taking a big gulp, steeling her shaking voice. ‘I think I’ve had enough tea for today Hana. Thank you for organising this. I’m going back to my room to rest.’ 

Turning her head to avoid her friend’s disappointed look, Elizabeth hurried into the house, feet carrying her to her room as if on autopilot while she struggled to keep her composure at least until she was in private and the tears could fall freely. Once the door slammed shut, Elizabeth sank onto the bed, extremely aware of the pounding headache that threatened to split her head open. Popping a couple of painkillers, she sank down onto the pillows and cried herself to sleep.

-

A sharp insistent knocking woke her from the thin sleep she’d fallen into and elizabeth frowned curiously, knowing everyone knew not to disturb her when her door was closed. Rubbing her eyes sleepily, she opened the door to find Olivia standing on the other side of the threshold. 

 ‘You look like hell,’ she pronounced upon seeing her. ‘Clean yourself up and get downstairs. Don’t even think of arguing.’ 

‘Wh-what’s happening?’ Elizabeth queried, taking in the redhead’s casual outfit. 

‘You’ll see.’

More out of curiosity than anything, Elizabeth obeyed, sliding into her old college hoodie and a pair of jeans only to come down to find voices coming from the parlour. Pushing the door open, she found the room set up with snacks, drinks and a huge stack of boardgames in the background music was playing softly. 

‘What’s all this?’ She asked, directing her question to Olivia and Hana who were adjusting a tray of small shot glasses filled with a substance that looked suspiciously like chocolate. 

 ‘I’ve planned a boardgames night,’ Olivia announced before her usual confident facade dropped a little. ‘I’ve never actually hosted one of these but apparently this is what commoners do for fun?’ 

‘That’s one way of putting it,’ Elizabeth mused, perusing the selection of boardgames on the coffee table. before the doorbell rang. ‘Are we expecting someone else?’ 

Hana opened her mouth to answer before the redhead cut her off. ‘That’s probably the pizza, Hana can get that.’ 

 Elizabeth watched her retreat before turning back to Olivia as she strolled around the room. ‘Wow Liv I’m… impressed. I wouldn’t have take you to be the type to organise something like this. Its more like the kind of thing you’d go out of your way to avoid.’ 

 ‘Hmph I needed to do something to pull you out of that bat cave of yours. Come help me get the rest of the snacks,’ she ordered in a tone that brooked no argument. 

 ‘LITTLE BLOSSOM!’

Maxwell’s cry of enthusiasm reverberated so loudly inside Elizabeth’s head that she almost dropped the bowl of marshmallows she’d been instructed to carry before she was enveloped in a bear hug, marshmallows and all. ‘I’ve missed you so much!’ He exclaimed before looking sheepish. ‘I would have brought Cooper too but Olivia said no.’ 

The redhead rolled her eyes and gestured behind him. ‘He did bring someone else..’ 

 Elizabeth followed her gaze, behind Maxwell and Hana, behind the couch stood… Drake. 

He gave her a small uncertain smile when her eyes landed on him. For a moment she was frozen still, taking in his dark eyes, usual denim shirt and jeans that she assumed was his uniform by now. She watched him wipe his hands nervously on his clothes as he let her take him in. A host of emotions bubbled up at the sigh of him and she balled her hands into fists, digging her nails into her palms to distract herself from crying and tore her gaze from his. 

 ‘Um.. Olivia can I talk to you for a minute?’ 

‘I’m sure whatever you need to say can be said in front of the entire group.’ 

Elizabeth gave her a pointed look, internally cursing her friend’s stubbornness while at the same time not wanting to create a scene, knowing Drake was still watching her. ‘I think this is more of a private thing.’ 

 ‘Nonsense, we’re all at least acquainted here right?’ She replied brashly. 

 ‘Ol-‘ 

‘It’s fine,’ Drake interrupted, heading towards the door, ‘I think I left something in the car anyway.’ 

Elizabeth winced at the look on his face and once he was out the door, she grabbed Olivia and yanked her into another room. ‘Olivia what the fuck?’ 

‘If you do not the your hands off my arm, I will not hesitate to hack. Them. Off.’ 

She hastily released her forearm, her fingernails having left little crescent shapes in her pale skin. 'Olivia… you… you ambushed me?’ 

 Olivia rolled her eyes. ‘Please that’s nothing compared to what I really wanted to do. Look,’ she stared Elizabeth in the eye. ‘You weren’t getting anywhere on your own. I had to step in.’ 

 ‘I was perfectly fine!’

‘You were miserable and you know it. You know I’m right. Now you’re going to go back in that and we’re going to have some actual… ugh… fun.’ The redhead rolled her eyes in disgust. ‘You guys need some closure and this could be it.’ 

She immediately turned on her heels and Elizabeth had no choice but to follow. ‘So what are we playing first?’ 

 ‘Maxwell has already set up Monopoly so I guess we’re playing that first,’ Hana chimed in as they settled back into their seats. Halfway through the game when Maxwell had unsurprisingly landed in jailer six times, the air was still tense between Drake and Elizabeth who had barely glanced at each other twice the entire game. 

‘I think we could all use a drink,’ Hana intervened wisely, making for the drinks cart. 

‘And a change of pace,’ Olivia put in. ‘At this rate I’d rather watch Drake attempt perfect fork placement. That would be much more entertaining.’ 

‘Ha ha,’ he replied sarcastically. 'How about Snakes & Ladders? can’t go wrong with a tried and true?' 

'Ooo dibs on lil green guy!’ Maxwell chimed in, grabbing the gamepiece. 

 'I’ll take red… obviously,’ Olivia grabbed the corresponding token. 

 Not realising it, both Drake and Elizabeth reached for the blue piece at the same time and their fingers brushed slightly before they simultaneously jumped back, making her inhale a little at the heat of their skin against each others. She hadn’t touched him since..   

‘Hang on we’re one person extra.’ Hana observed, yellow token in hand. 

‘Richmond and I can share,’ Drake put in abruptly before looking at her in askance. ‘If you’re okay with that?’ 

Elizabeth nodded, still not recovered from their brief touch and now that his dark eyes were on her, suddenly found herself unable to speak. 

 ‘Lets play!’ Maxwell announced, grabbing the die. An hour later, they were on their fourth round of the game with all of them having won once before except Olivia to her chagrin but the atmosphere was much more relaxed, the awkwardness having mostly worn off and Drake reached for the die and handing to the Elizabeth. 

 ‘I trust you,’ he declared knowing that they were very close to winning again, except for two long snakes that stood in their path. 

 ‘I’ll try to make you proud,’ she grinned back and rolled. All eyes were on the little white cube as it spun across the board to finally land on…

‘Six! That means we win!’ Elizabeth chirped, moving the blue token six places to the finish line. 

 ‘Awwww,’ Maxwell whined. 

 ‘Ugh I hate this game,’ Olivia groaned. 

 Drake’s eyes sparkled when he looked over at her. ‘Nice moves Richmond.’ 

‘I had a good teammate,’ she grinned back at him, feeling at ease for the first time in months. When their eyes met, there was a kind of magnetic attraction sparking in the air between them and she took a moment to really take him in. Despite her fragmented memory, there was something about him that was just so familiar and… comforting. Realising she’d been staring a little too long, Elizabeth turned away, hoping her hair covered her face enough to hide the blush. 

 ‘Anyway what do we win?’ 

 ‘I didn’t know we were playing for a prize,’ Hana observed turning to Olivia. 

‘Don’t look at me, I don’t do all… this,’ she gestured vaguely to the room. 

 Drake rose to his feet and grabbed a packet of graham crackers and the bowl of marshmallows from the table. ‘Maybe its a good time to break these out.’

Elizabeth watched over his shoulder as he carefully roasted the marshmallow over the fireplace until he deemed it perfectly cooked before trapping it between graham crackers and a piece of chocolate and presenting it to her. 

‘A s’more,’ she reasoned, looking up at him. 

‘The best you’ll ever eat.’ 

He gave her a reassuring smirk as she took a tentative bite. Elizabeth’s eyes widened at the explosion of sweetness in her mouth, the gooey texture of the marshmallow mixing perfectly with the chocolate, complimented by the crunchiness of the graham crackers. 

‘Told ya,’ Drake’s grin widened, turning back to make another for Maxwell who was already bouncing in anticipation. He looked questioningly towards Olivia who shook her head. 

‘Count me out. I’ve had enough peasantry for one night.’ 

Elizabeth took another bite just as the tingling sensation she’d come to associate with memory recall buzzed in the back of her head. Instead of the usual pain that she experienced, this time it seemed much more subdued and instead of fighting it like she usually did, she let it flow. 

-

She could feel the breeze of the night air brushing her hair as the warmth of a fire warmed her cheeks. Drake was there, sitting next to her, hands on hers to adjust the way she was holding the stick over the fire so that the marshmallow wouldn’t burn. 

‘That’s better.’ 

‘So you’re the s’mores expert?’

‘Damn right. i’ve made hundreds of these.’ 

The way his face softened in the firelight was fascinating as he recounted a story of going camping with his dad as a boy.Despite that, we loved it. He smiled shyly at her, a little embarrassed to be caught so tender. She watched him affectionately, he looked so happy talking about his family, she could tell it was important to him.

‘That sounds so wonderful… and simple.’ 

‘The best things in life usually are, Richmond.’ 

A strong urge bloomed in her chest and she was overwhelmed with the urge to kiss him, to feel his lips on hers even for a moment. He must have seen it because he was leaning in too before checking himself and pulling away, though his eyes betrayed the front he struggled to put on, telling her he wanted this as much as she did. The memory seemed to skip forward a little and Elizabeth guess that Drake must have just told her about the scandal at the coronation that she’d read about in the newspapers but still had no memory of. 

‘I never knew you wanted to come after me.’

His face was bashful. ‘Oh well yeah.. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.’

‘You were worried about me..’

‘Honestly, I still am.’ His head dropped before he turned to look her so deep in the eyes she thought she might never escape his intense dark eyes. ‘I don’t know what I would do if something like that ever happened to you.’ 

‘Oh Drake..’

She was already leaning in again, his cautious glance over his shoulder warned her against giving in but she couldn’t contain her affection for him. He cares… 

‘A kiss would make me feel better.’ 

‘Richmond..’ War broke out on Drake's face as he debated between duty and passion. ‘We can’t..’ 

‘But I want you right now.’ The need to feel him against her burned hotly inside her so badly that if she didn’t have him she would have exploded right there and then. 

‘Dammit Richmond.’ 

The look on his face told her his resolve was breaking down. She couldn’t stop herself from leaning even closer and he responded immediately, closing the gap, his lips finding hers gently at first quickly giving into the heat and desperation that dwelled in both of them. His hand came around her waist to pull her closer as hers wound into his soft hair. This was all she wanted, all she ever wanted for the rest of her life. 

-

'Richmond, you okay there?’ Drake’s voice pulled her out of the memory. ‘Do I.. do I have something on my face?' 

 Elizabeth shook herself, realising she’d spaced out and was staring at him intently. ‘Yeah.. I’m fine,’ she mumbled before looking closer. ‘Actually you gotta little something..’

He used the back of his hand to brush at his mouth. ‘Gone?’

‘You completely missed it,’ she couldn’t help but giggle at his failed attempt to wipe away the large chocolate streak. 

Before she knew what was fully happening, Elizabeth raised her hand to his face and in gentle motions, swiped the chocolate away from his mouth. She heard Drake’s slight gasp as her thumb softly grazing the skin in an intimate gesture that sparked that feeling in both of them, like in her memory. 

She looked up into his eyes and found that the spark lead to a tiny lick of flame in her belly now was present in his. His eyes dropped to her lips and she wondered if he was thinking the same thing as she was. Like in her memory, Elizabeth found herself leaning forward a little, wondering how the feeling of his lips compared to what she remembered. Both of them drew closer and closer as if magnetised by an invisible force, movements slow and hesitant, lips inches awa-

CRASH!

The pair immediately pulled away from each other to find a very tipsy Maxwell bending down to pick up the bowl of popcorn he’d tipped onto the carpet. 

‘Sorry, sorry, sorry,’ he exclaimed, trying to help but knocking over more empty cups in his intoxicated state. 

Drake leapt to his feet. ‘Looks like someone’s ready to go home.’ 

‘Drake buddy.’ 

‘Don’t call me that,’ he grumbled, slipping Maxwell’s arm over his shoulder and looking apologetically towards Elizabeth. ‘I should get this one home. Can someone walk us out of this maze?’ 

 Receiving a meaningful prod from Olivia, Elizabeth stepped forward. ‘I’ll do it.’ 

When they’d found their way out the front door, Drake shifted a sleeping Maxwell on his shoulder before turning to her. ‘Thanks for tonight Richmond. It was… I had fun…’ 

‘Me too..’ 

 He paused as if he wanted to say something and thinking better of it turned away instead. Elizabeth’s stomach dropped as she watched him leave, emotions in a twist after her memory recall and the moment they’d shared in front of the fireplace. It  had left her breathless, hungry for more and overall confused about her feelings towards him. Whatever they were, they were certainly strong but he didn’t seem to thi- 

‘Richmond!’ 

She snapped her head towards Drake who was jogging back to her, having put Maxwell in the car. ‘I had fun tonight,’ he declared again, confusing her even more. ‘Would you… that is… do you… Um.. what I’m trying to say is… Would you like to go out with me?’ 

 Elizabeth felt her eyes widening. ‘Like on a date?' 

‘Yeah, like a date,’ Drake affirmed, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. ‘Only if you want to.’ 

 Doubt flicked for a second before she recalled her memory and the undeniable attraction between them earlier. ‘I’d love to.’ 

 Relief flooded his face as soon as the words left her mouth. ‘That’s… uh… wow. D-does tomorrow work for you?’ 

She nodded, speechless by the goofy grin on his face. 

 ‘Seven good?’ 

‘I’ll be waiting.’ 

 Drake’s grin widened. ‘Great. Tomorrow then.’ 

‘Tomorrow,’ Elizabeth promised, standing in the doorway until he’d gotten in the car and drive off before shutting it and leaning against the wall, unable to contain her smile.

-

‘So no indication of what activity he’s got planned?’ Hana called from where she was seated on the couch in the boudoir.

‘Nope, just that he’d pick me up at seven,’ Elizabeth’s voice was muffled as she wrestled herself through yet another outfit suggested by her friends. 

‘I don’t think this is the one.’ She emerged from behind the screen in a frilly pink dress with lace ruffles and immediately wrinkled her nose at the sight of herself in the mirror. ‘I look like a bakery threw up on me.' 

‘You’re right, you’re right,’ Maxwell chimed in, pacing the floor, past the numerous discarded outfits on the floor, waving his hands theatrically as he spoke. ‘We need something versatile, yet elegant. Functional yet fashionable. Simple but classy, understated but not too understated, just the right amount of uh... stated-ness.’ 

‘What about this one?’ Elizabeth asked, stepping out from behind the screen having grabbed another dress and changed into it during his external monologue. 

 Both of her friends lit up at the sight of her. 

 ‘Oh Elizabeth,’ Hana gasped. ‘…that’s perfect,’ Maxwell finished.

-

‘Okay, okay, okay,’ Elizabeth murmured to herself, smoothening her hands down the front of her dress to dry her sweaty palms. ‘He’ll be here any minute now.’ 

With her hair done in loose waves, braided to frame her face and a touch of makeup on, she tried not to pace in anxiety. She’d been on first dates before and this one was no different right? Still she couldn’t shake the feeling that this was important somehow, that it would either make or break their entire relationship or what was left of it. A couple minutes past seven, the doorbell rang and she gave herself a final glance in the mirror before heading to open the door for Drake. His eyes went wide when he saw her. 

‘Wow, you look…'

'Over dressed?’ She offered, smoothening down the front of her green dress again. Out of all the outfits they’d tried on, including her new selection of duchess clothing, her old green dress felt the most right. reaching far back in her memory, past the haziness, she could recall wearing it on that first night in New York when she’d taken Drake, Liam and their friends to the secluded beach. It had always served her well and she’d almost come to think of it as lucky. 

 ‘Stunning,’ Drake finally finished before handing her a bouquet of flowers. ’Not to be cliche but I got you these. I didn’t know which ones you liked..’   

‘They’re perfect,’ she assured him, lifting the lilies to smell their fragrant aroma. ‘You look nice too.’

‘Oh,’ a blush appeared on his cheeks before Drake smoothened down the navy button down he was wearing. ‘Thanks.’

‘So where are we going?’ She piped up, curiosity brimming since the day before once they were in the car. 

 ‘All in good time, Richmond.’ The smile he gave her from across the centre console was enough to warm her inside. 

-

'Watch your step now, it gets a bit finicky here,’ Drake warned. 

They’d only driven about twenty or so minutes before he’d parked the car and grabbed a picnic basket out of the back and gestured for her to come with him. Elizabeth glanced around warily at her surroundings, they were in a different part of the city now, more crowded and congested than she’d seen before, one of the poorer areas she guessed. 

 ‘Are you sure you know where you’re going?’ she asked suspiciously as Drake paused yet again to gather his bearings. 

‘I wouldn’t lead you astray Richmond,’ he assured her before indicating towards a set of stairs. ‘Watch your step now.’ 

 Doubt still sat in the pit of her belly as they picked their way up the narrow staircase that opened up to- 

‘Wow.’ 

Elizabeth took in the view from the spacious rooftop where she could see the entire capital in all her splendour, lights twinkling out like a carpet below her. She turned in a slow circle to take in the fairy lights casting their warm glow down from the canopy hanging over their heads to soft blankets and collection of pillows that was to be their setting tonight. 

 'Would you like a drink?’ 

 She glanced nervously at the green bottle he was holding. After her accident she’d stayed away from any and all forms of drinking and she wasn’t about to test her limits now.   

‘Don’t worry its non-alcoholic,’ Drake added to reassured her. 

 ‘Oh then yes please. This is amazing,’ she breathed accepting a glass. ‘How did you find this place?’ 

He shrugged from where he was kneeling, unpacking the picnic basket. ‘My mum used to buy her spices from the lady that lives downstairs and we used to play up here while waiting for her. It's got the best view of the whole city. Thought you’d like to see.' 

‘Its a phenomenal view,’ she repeated. 

‘Yeah it is,’ he replied and Elizabeth glanced over to see his eyes on her. She coughed nervously, nodding to the two plates of spaghetti carbonara he’d set up. 

 ‘You made that?’ 

'I do have some talents you know..’ 

 ‘You mean something other than hanging in the back of ballrooms and sulking?’ The quip was out of her mouth before she realised and Elizabeth watched an identical look of surprise bloom on Drake’s face before it morphed into a smile. 

 ‘Guess you’ll have to stick around long enough to find out.’ 

‘I guess I’ll be the judge of how good you claim to be,’ she nodded towards the plate, raising a mouthful and taking a bite. 

‘Well?’

‘Not bad, a little too heavy on the salt but I guess that’s to be expected,’ she replied cheekily, testing the waters between them again. 

‘Everyone’s a critic,’ he gestured in mock exasperation but his eyes gleamed back at her.

‘In all seriousness though, this is pretty good. You do good work Walker,’ Elizabeth replied, feeling much more at ease now, a thrill running through her as Drake winked. 

‘You can always count on me to find the right food.’The words rang a distant bell in her head as a strange sense of de ja vu hit her. Where had she heard that?‘

You okay?’ He asked, noting her changed expression. 

‘Yeah it just feels like I’ve heard that before..’

Drake was looking at her more carefully now. ‘That’s probably because I’ve said it before.’

‘Oh?’ Elizabeth leaned forward, ready to hear about this. 

He cleared his throat nervously, a habit she was beginning to recognise as one of his hallmarks. ‘See this one time we were in Italy-‘ 

‘We went to Italy?’ 

‘Yeah with the royal engagement tour,’ he informed her. ‘I’d invited you out to dinner, not unlike this but I didn’t want to call it a date for some reason, probably because...' 

A cool breeze floated through the air, ruffling her hair a little as Elizabeth listened to him recount the story of their first non-date, between bites of spaghetti. 

 ‘Wow,’ she replied when Drake was done. ‘That sounds like me alright… we.. I sound happy.’ She couldn’t help smiling faintly. 

‘Yeah happy that you caught me off my guard for once..’ 

‘Sounds like you didn’t mind too much.’ 

His eyes glittered as he took her in. ‘Yeah, I didn’t.’ 

He was just about to say something else when a string of shouts in Greek rang out from below them, the locals getting into a disagreement of sorts over produce. Drake’s ears went red as the profanities grew louder and louder. 

'Sorry.. not exactly the kind of atmosphere I wanted to have for a first date,’ he laughed nervously.   

'Its okay,' she giggled now that the shouts were dying down. They sat in silence until the sounds of a band playing filtered up to their vantage point. 

 'Would you like to dance?’ Drake asked suddenly. 

Elizabeth’s eyebrows lifted. 'You can dance?' 

'Uhh.. yeah I can,’ he mumbled. 'You taught me actually.'

'Oh I did?’ 

There was still so much she couldn’t remember and that reminder scared Elizabeth to her core. She’d liked all she’d heard and remembered so far but what if there was something she didn’t? What would she do then? 

'Yeah I mean if you don't want to,’ Drake’s ramblings brought her out of her introspection, his voice flat.’It's fine.' 

Elizabeth watched his face fall a little before she made a split second decision, taking a leap of faith. 'No Drake I'd love to.’ 

His head picked up and she nodded again to affirm him before he stood up and held a hand out to her. They made their way to the middle of the rooftop, where under the stars Drake gently positioned them into the starting position for a simple waltz. Elizabeth could not help but inhale sharply at the sensation of his hand in hers, skin warm as he guided her slowly across the floor. Her feet seemed to move of their own accord now, body reponse to his guidance and soon enough they were gliding across the floor in the traditional Cordonian Waltz, Drake’s eyes never leaving hers. 

 ‘I remember,’ she breathed softly, looking down at where their feet moved in perfect complimentary movements. 

 He nodded encouragingly. ‘Your brain may not remember but your muscles do.’ 

 Elizabeth allowed him to spin her into a delicate twirl, her hair and dress trailing behind after her as a sense of peace settled over her for the first time that entire night. Drake was tucking a lock of her hair out of her face from where it had come undone, a small gesture but strangely intimate, fingers gently grazing her ear before dropping back to her waist. Entwined so closely, the word and all her problems seemed to fade away and she took a moment to really take in how handsome he was, slightly fragile in his own way just like she was but handsome none the less. She couldn’t describe it but being right here, right now in this moment just felt inexplicably right..  

‘Have I told you how amazing you look tonight?’ He murmured softly. 

 ‘You have,’ she whispered back just as quietly, not wanting to break the spell they’d weaved together. ‘I think I’ve mentioned how nice you look too. I thought you said you only dress up if there’s someone you wanted to impress.' 

Drake’s eyes never left her as he turned her in another graceful turn before guiding her back to him. 'Yeah well... I guess I found someone worth impressing.' 

She cocked her head to the side. 'Wait why does that sound so familiar?'

He sighed deeply before answering. 'Because I said the exact same thing to you on the night of the Coronation.

'Tell me more?'

As Drake talked the memory took shape in her mind and suddenly she could see it all clearly, playing out in her head as if she was watching a movie. Elizabeth was suddenly hit with the realisation that it was that night that had changed everything for her. Even if he hadn’t been sure about them, she was. And even if Liam had proposed that night, she knew what her answer would be. It was standing right in front of her now. 

 Once again there was that magnetic pull rekindled between them as Elizabeth and Drake stood face to face, lost in each other’s eyes, barely swaying to to music that had long since ceased. If she’d made the choice once, what was stopping her from doing it again. Elizabeth thought to herself, taking him in for the tenth time that night. He was closer now, merely a couple of inches away, close enough for her to reach forward but unmoving, waiting for her to close the gap. Suddenly the prospect of them, of him seemed much too overwhelming as all her insecurities came crashing back in, causing Elizabeth to turn her head away. 

 ‘Sorry,’ she mumbled, ashamed and embarrassed. ‘This is too fast.’ 

 ‘It's okay,’ Drake’s chest rumbled form where it was pressed against hers as he gave her a small reassuring smile. ‘I’ll wait as long as you need to.’ 

‘Thank you for understanding,’ she murmured back, meaning every word. 

‘Besides its getting kinda late, I should be getting you home.’ 

She nodded and a short drive later they were back at the door to her duchy, both standing on the porch, unsure of what to do until Drake finally spoke up. 

'Can I…um… May I kiss you goodnight? On the cheek of course.'

'Oh! Sure,’  He drew in close, planting a chaste kiss on her face. 'Goodnight Richmond.’ He gave her a soft smile. 

 'Goodnight Drake,’ she replied, watching his broad backed figure climb back into his car and drive away before closing the front door and leaning against it. Elizabeth raised a hand to her cheek that radiated warmth from the spot where his lips brushed her face, smiling to herself as she made her way upstairs for the night. 

The smile remained on her face long after she was well asleep. 

-

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[viridian-angel]

Black Pearl [Chapter 1]

Series: Original [Sara]

Genre: Thriller

Characters: Original [Rights Reserved]

Wordcount: 2,306

Prologue to this chapter here 

“Boss, you’re back!”

A round of cheerful hollers rose from the room as Sara entered, followed by a few confused mumbles and curious glances.

Held close to her chest, a frazzled-looking, skittish, scruffy black cat trembled in her arms, eyes darting around the room. Everybody gave it at least one look before returning their gaze back to Sara, who was currently more stone-faced than her typically charismatic and cool self.

“Uh… Boss? What’s with the cat?” one of her yakuza clansmen asked, scratching the back of his head.

“Ain’t that typical, goes out on a hit, comes back with a stray,” another joked, laughing to himself and stretching in his chair. The man behind him scooted closer in his chair, letting out a not so quiet whisper of “Isn’t that how she found you, dipshit?”, prodding him and laughing.

A massive man, about as tall as her and twice as wide approached her, reaching his arms out with palms open. “Here, I’ll take it, Boss. You still got blood on yer hands, you outta wash up.” Sara stared him in the eyes, conveying a silent message that he nodded in response to. She carefully offloaded the cat into his arms, the man holding it close to his shirtless, tattooed chest.

Sara took a deep breath and took a moment to stretch, clearing her throat. Everyone else in the room immediately fell silent and all eyes fell on her.

“Matano’s dead. Be on the lookout for retaliation– anyone loitering around the building, cars parked a little too long outside with no one coming out of ‘em. So on and so forth, you know the drill. As far as a lot of people are concerned, we’re even now. He put out the hit, he got hit back, no extra collateral racked up in the process. It’s about as cut and dry as you can get, we should be good– but you never know.”

Everyone in the room began to chatter quietly to themselves, picking straws as to who would be doing what and when. One of them spoke up above the rest, idly flicking the toothpick held between his teeth.

“’Grats Boss, but where’d the cat come from?”

“Heard it mewling from a janky old abandoned lot after I finished my business. It’s way too cold and wet out there right now for a stray to survive, so…”

She scratched the side of her head, just sort of ending the sentence there.

“Anyway, I need to wash up.” she continued, preemptively rolling up her sleeves. “Kentaro,” she addressed the large man, “Bring the cat to my room and just take care of ‘em for a little bit. As soon as I’m not covered in dry blood I’ll pay a visit to a convenience store and get some cat food for them.”

He nodded without another word, letting the cat have some wiggle room and shift back and forth between his massive hands.

Sara scrubbed her hands thoroughly in her bathroom, the dried blood on her hands flaking off and falling down the sink drain. She splashed some water into her face for good measure, drying her eyes with a hand towel and staring into the mirror.

“You’ve been dealt a real shitty hand–”

She shook her head. What could he have even meant by that? The implication was that something big was about to go down– but she hadn’t heard so much as a little blip on the radar regarding anything huge in the works. Then again, her clan was very much detached from any huge alliance– she was on her own, an outcast followed by punks. No one to answer to– but no one else on her side beside the people who pledged their loyalty to her. So, no one tended to give her friendly tidbits advice. Mainly, they just flung lead and shrapnel her way.

Cupping her hands, she gathered and poured water down her thick, silver hair. She worked little specks of red out of it the best she could, meticulous in her cleaning.

“All eyes are on you now, kid.”

More than usual? She was always going to be viewed as an unstable upstart to every other clan, and that much wasn’t new to her. What could she have possibly done? Something that he was going to do instead of her… something that he was sure of. What could he possibly be sure that she’d do?

She did a quick comb through her hair, pulling a hair-band from her pocket and tying it up into a neat ponytail.

“Guess I’ll just have to bide my time and find out…” she muttered quietly, stepping outside and walking into the main room again. Quick count– two, four, eight, sixteen… and Kentaro makes seventeen, in her office with that cat. Everyone here. Two of them were on relaxing back in their chairs while watching multiple camera feeds set around the surrounding streets and buildings. Five of them were playing cards and laughing together, waiting for their turns to do the basic tasks the others were currently taking care of. Three were doing routine check-ups and tune-ups on their small cache of weapons, four of them had taken point at the only reliable ways to enter the building, just out of view. The last two were hanging out in the kitchen attached to the main room, cooking a large meal for the rest of the group.

She couldn’t help but smile a little at it all. Despite not having any real instructions from her, they always managed to settle into the natural rhythm of work to keep the place safe. Sara knew she could trust each one of them, and it was the kind of peace that she always doubted she’d ever really be able to have.

“Boss!” one at the table shouted, reaching to the ground and flinging a raincoat up at her in one smooth motion. She instinctively caught it in her hands, earning a little dramatic “Ooooh!” and applause from the rest of the table.

“Figured you’d want to actually be a little dry when you go out there this time.”

“Yeah. Thanks, Michiya.”

The woman stepped into the rainy streets, now properly protected from the downpour the weather had turned into. Not cold enough for snow, but cold enough that this would turn pretty dangerous for anyone just trying to hang out outside. It was really late at this point, so most anyone would simply be sleeping at home. Anyone with a more… typical job, that is.

Sara looked around, eyeing the surrounding area for anything suspicious. Almost like clockwork, she saw a car parked across the street start up, lights flaring up.

She didn’t flinch, merely walking forward with an unsettling, unblinking glare focused on the car’s tinted passenger window. Within a few steps, the car’s tires begun to spin and screech against the street, quickly speeding off into the wet roads.

“Great. That’s real reassuring.”

Sara put her raincoat's hood up, taking more relaxed steps out into the rain. Whatever the case for someone to be watching her currently, she’d have to trust her crew to be able to handle themselves for now. She did have a hungry cat she needed to take care of right now.

There were few times in her life she had been happier for 24-hour convenience stores. It was a true boon to the people who didn’t typically get to live out their lives during the day– such was true for her now, and it was back when she was a temporarily homeless teenager. It didn’t take long for her to pick out a decent amount of cat supplies, pay for it, and get out.

From the crowd of people waiting for her outside, it looked like getting back home would be another matter entirely.

A large group of fourteen men formed a semi-circle a couple of meters away from her, all equipped with a range of close-range weapons from bats to katanas. Her eyes narrowed, observing all of them and making mental notes to herself.

“I don’t suppose you guys came to help a lady carry her groceries, did you?” she commented, forcing a laugh and shrugging her shoulders.

The most nicely dressed one of the bunch attempted to light a cigarette, not offering a response as much as his frustrated noises over the rain.

“Tsk. Real shitty weather tonight, huh?” he said dryly, giving up and tossing his now soggy cigarette onto the ground.

“Yeah.”

A tense silence fell over them before the man started to speak up again.

“So, Matano finally bit the dust, huh?” he muttered rhetorically, leaning against his car and sighing. “Well, I suppose that’s what he gets. Not really a smart idea to go starting shit when we got more important things to be doin’.”

Sara remained silent, keeping her eyes trained on everyone she could to be ready for an attack at any moment. The man straightened himself up, walking with a casual pace up to Sara. He stopped about half a meter in front of her, hands in his pockets. Looking her up and down, he let out a short whistle. Sara’s left eye twitched.

“Well, they weren’t kidding when they said you were big, huh?”

“Am I supposed to know who you are?” she said, an unsettling grin spreading across her face.

“Nah, not really.” he replied, looking past her at the bag of cat supplies she was holding. “Just Matano’s soon to be replacement. You really opened up a spot for me on the ol’ corporate ladder. Say, what’d you got there in the bag–”

The second he began to reach for the bag, Sara’s free hand lashed out and tightly wrapped around his throat. He let out a startled sputter and wheeze, his hands instinctively latching onto Sara’s to try and pry it free. No matter how hard he attempted to, he didn’t get so much as a budge.

The men behind him stumbled a bit in place, quickly readying their weapons and inching closer.

Sara squeezed tighter, eliciting another pained grunt from the man in her grasp. “Name.” she commanded, her eyes hard at work keeping tabs on each yakuza as they moved forward.  

“N… Noboru…” he managed to choke out, relinquishing his grip on her hand and waving hurriedly at the men behind him. “F-Fucking stop moving you idiots! She could break my throat right now…”

“Okay, Noboru. I’ll fill you in on any details you might’ve missed. Matano died because he tried to kill me. I’m not looking to start shit, but when people try to hurt me, I can’t help but lash out. I don’t care if you’re his replacement, or you end up being the big bad boss of your clan. You don’t piss me off, stay out of our turf, and leave us alone, we’ll get along just fine.”

“G… Got it…”

Sara stared at him in silence for a few moments, before unceremoniously letting go of his windpipe. He sputtered and coughed, massaging his throat with a hand and stepping back. “J-Jesus, alright then… you really outta loosen up, lady. I thought you were supposed to be the goody-two-shoes pushover of the patriarchs around here…”

“I’m nice to those who deserve it. People who come up to me with their entourage of goons to small talk don’t really fit that description.”

“Fair enough,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. “I didn’t come here for a fight anyway. They’re just protection, really. More specifically, we’ve been searching around her for something…”

He scratched the back of his head, a knowing smirk on his face as he eyed Sara’s bag. “More specifically, Matano was around these parts looking for a little stray cat… it was pretty important, actually. I don’t suppose you happened to see one after you, uh… offed him, right?”

Sara kept a calm poker-face and shook her head. “No. Do you think I’d be looking for a cat in this weather?”

“Nah, I guess not. Just, you know… you happened to have a bunch of cat food and whatnot in that bag, and it seemed a little late to be going shopping for that kind of stuff.”

“I ran out of food. My cat’s hungry and yelling about it, so I went out.”

“Oh yeah? What color is it?”

“White.”

“What kind of cat?

“Persian.”

“What’s his name?”

“Yuuto.”

The rapid-fire exchanged paused for a moment, and he scratched his chin.

“Huh… so, a white Persian cat named Yuuto… how old is she?”

“He.”

His smirk widened, scratching the back of his head again and laughing. “Ah yeah, I’ve got a bad short term memory, sorry.” he said, casting Sara a cold glare despite the smile plastered on his face. “But you’d remember that for your own cat, of course…”

Sara returned the glare, but any trace of a smile was absent on her face. “Yeah. Are we done here now?” Sara hissed between clenched teeth, gripping her bag tighter.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t want to hold you from you cat any longer. Youta, was it?”

“Yuuto.”

“Right, right, sorry, sorry. I’ll getting out of your hair now.”

He opened his car door, taking a step inside before stopping. “Oh, and Miss Reighs…”

Sara didn’t offer a response, merely staring him down instead.

“… Might want to get indoors soon. Heard this weather was going to get even worse later tonight. Heh.”

He stepped fully into his car, sitting down and shutting the door as his crew begun to wander in different directions, offering her silent scowls.

Sara waited in place until all of them were out of sight, then let out a long, deep sigh. She tilted her head up, staring at the stormy sky and blinking through raindrops.

And then, a quiet, almost inaudible,

“What the fuck?”