#Patches would only step back this would only make her more nervous “no no! I can't please don't make go on stage!”

[lesservillain]

iv. someone like you and all you know and how you speak

summary: old friends and halloween shenanigans cw: we see peen. an: i love joyce byers. also pic of matthew lillard is implied to be reefer rick.

Eddie started having night terrors. 

They didn’t come every night, but their intensity had you concerned.

The first one had you flying over the back of the couch to get to him. His shrieks turned your blood cold, and watching him shake and convulse was terrifying to witness. In your panic, you wrapped your arms around him to try to ground him and ended up getting hit in the face. After that you asked your teacher for advice on what interventions to do when someone has an episode.

But you weren’t the only one to suffer with pain after getting clocked in the jaw. The days after an episode left Eddie’s body sore from the sudden jerking of his muscles in his sleep. It probably didn’t help that he had also started physical therapy twice a week either, leaving him sore even with his pain medication most of the time. 

Needless to say, Eddie was acting like his normal grumpy self most days, even when his friends would come over. Though, he did try and reel it back when he could catch himself or with a subtle nudge from you. By now you’d gotten used to his grumpy attitude and knew it was just coming from a place of hurting. In turn he’s been much more cooperative with you. Progress.

“What the hell are you guys doing?” You ask with a laugh, as you get out of your car. Eddie is sitting on the ground leaning back against his hands with his legs sprawled out. Will and Grant sit on either side of him as Dustin pushes Eddie’s wheelchair on its back wheels, Jeff sitting in it and squealing as Gareth and Mike laugh.

“They’re trying to break Jeff so him and Eddie can get matching chairs,” Grant called, eliciting a laugh from Eddie and Will.

“N’they’re gonna pay for his new one when they break that one,” Wayne calls from the porch, lit cigarette in hand. All around him are pumpkins of all different shapes and sizes, like a little pumpkin patch had grown around him.

“Ah, I see.” You nod.

Grabbing your bag, you walk into the Munson home to get your things settled. Glancing over into the dining room, you expected to see the table already set up for their game night, but were surprised to see it covered in newspaper and knives and spoons. 

“Are you guys carving these pumpkins?” You ask, stepping back out onto the porch and pointing at the Wayne’s posse.

“Yep,” Eddie called back. “My PT said it would be a “fun activity” to work on my hand strength," he said with stiff fingered air quotes.

“Yeah, Eddie’s gonna scoop out all the guts with his bare hands,” Dustin says, setting the wheelchair back down to wiggle his fingers.

“Ew gross,” Mike joins in with Dustin’s antics.

“It’s not gross,” you say with a roll of the eyes. “Save the seeds and I’ll bake them for later.”

“Mmm, some roasted pumpkin seeds sounds real good.” Wayne says, putting his cigarette out and standing from his seat. “Save me some a’them when you make em.”

“Of course!”

“Hey, should we show her what we found earlier?” Your ears twitch when you hear Will lean into Eddie’s side. He looks at you over his shoulder, then back to the group before nodding.

And that’s how you ended up following the boys through the woods around the Munson house. Grant pushed Eddie’s chair through the woods, which wasn’t as terrible of terrain as you had expected. If the slight bounce bothered him, Eddie didn’t say. You stayed steady next to him, only moving to let them go ahead of you when the mostly thinned out trees were too close in some areas. 

After a few minutes and a lot of loud conversation between the boys, you came to a small clearing that dropped off into a cliff. It made you nervous to see the boys get so close to the drop, especially when Grant pushed Eddie almost to the very edge.

“Hey, be careful, please,” you called from behind them. 

“Come on, come see how far down this is!” Jeff called, his toes right on the cliff’s edge. You take a couple steps forward, just enough that you can see the water sloshing at the bottom. 

To see it made you dizzy, so you tried to focus your eyes elsewhere, instead taking in the breathtaking view of the lake below. You could see boats, houses, and even a man fishing off of a dock behind his house. If there was a railing or something to hold on to out here, you could see yourself coming out here to sit with Eddie on a nice day.

“Woah, shit!” Your heart stops beating as you watch Will pull Mike’s stumbling body back from the ledge, and you’re instantly done with this whole adventure.

“Alright, I get the idea. Field trips over,” you say, walking over to Eddie’s chair and pulling him back. “We better go carve those pumpkins before it gets too late and the kids have to go home.”

There’s some groans of protest, but they all follow your lead back to through the woods.

“You have to admit it was pretty cool, though, right?” Eddie says, his head tilting back just a bit to look at you. He was smiling. It was something he started doing more and you couldn’t help the way it made your stomach flip every time he did it.

“Yeah, it was definitely a nice view,” you agreed with a sigh. 

“Maybe when it gets warm out we can try jumping from it.” You hear Gareth say to one of the other boys. You recall the large drop from where you all stood at the top and a shiver went down your spine.

“I wouldn’t...unless you really want to get your own wheelchair to match Eddie's,” you say back. Gareth doesn’t let out another peep for the duration of the walk back.

“Okay, since Eddie is on scooping duty make sure you give him your pumpkins once you’ve got the tops off.”

The boys are sitting in their normal gaming formation, except for where Eddie and Gareth have swapped sides so Eddie can sit next to you. The pumpkin that the boys picked out for Eddie sits in front of you since you offered to carve it for him.

“What are you going to draw on it?” You ask him as you cut into the top of the thick pumpkin with force.

“I’m not sure yet,” he says indecisively. “Something scary for sure.”

“How about Mrs. O’Donnell?” Gareth nudges Eddie’s side, and the boys at the table all grimace.

“Fuck no. As terrifying as she is, I’d rather carve a demoba--”

Eddie catches himself mid sentence, horror written all over his face as he looks directly at Dustin. Mike and Will share similar pale faced expressions as Dustin. The tension at the table could be cut with a knife and you weren’t sure how to defuse the situation.

“Well,” Grant is the first to break the silence, “I think that, whatever we all decide to do, that we could make it into a competition. Let the newbie decide who has the best design.” He was looking straight at you and you were caught off guard by the new label. 

“Oh, come on, that’s not fair,” Gareth chimes in before you can say anything, “Will is like, one of the best artists in the whole town. He’s definitely gonna win.” Will sat up straight in his chair, before shrinking down with a smile.

“Hey, now, let’s not forget who designed these bad ass tee shirts,” Eddie says, gesturing at himself.

“You made those designs?” You ask surprised. Eddie nods with pride.

“Yep, when Hellfire was founded in ‘82. We scrounged up enough money to go to a print shop and have these bad boys made at the beginning of the school year. Wasn’t cheap, so we’ve always tried to be extra careful with them.”

“Awe, that’s so cute,” you giggle.

The table erupts in a defensive roar about how it is apparently not cute that their club has tee shirts that they take very good care of. No one was convincing you otherwise. 

You blew them off and distracted them by having them give Eddie their pumpkins. They all watched with amusement as Eddie reached down into each pumpkin and pulled the slimy, seedy guts out of them. Eddie’s button nose scrunched up with disgust, contrasted by the wide grin that touched his eyes. His tongue poked out in concentration as he swirled around the inside of the pumpkin, plopping the guts into bowls and pots with each one.

By the time he had gutted each pumpkin of their contents, Eddie looked like he was done for the rest of the night. 

“Eddie, do you want to save your pumpkin for another night?” You ask quietly, leaning in so only he could hear. He looks at you, brown orbs darting back and forth between your eyes carefully before smiling at you.

“Yeah, please?”

“Of course.”

“See, I told you that Will was going to win!” Gareth shouted, his hands falling at his side with a huff as the rest of the group laughed at his bitching.

“I’m sorry, it’s really good! That’s the most detailed pumpkin carving of a vampire’s face I’ve ever seen.”

“Thanks,” Will said bashfully. 

“Gareth, I don’t know why you’re bitching. Your jack-o-lanturn’s eyes aren’t even the same size.” Eddie razzed, goading Gareth until he flipped him off.

“Awe, I thought the mismatched eyes were cute,” you said teasingly, and Gareth froze, turning away from your eyes to stand by Will, who gave him a pat on the back.

As you all stood around admiring the hard work of everyone’s carved pumpkins, the sound of loud music playing grabbed all of your attention. It progressively got louder, sounding like it was coming from down the driveway.

“What the hell?” Jeff said with a tilt of his head.

Everyone seemed more confused than anything, but you clocked the look on Eddie’s face as he looked between the trees of the winding driveway. There was a fear there that you’d only seen in his face during his night terrors, and everything in your body was telling you that you needed to get him and everyone else inside.

“Come on guys, lets go—”

The loud revving of the engine drowned out the sound of whatever song the driver was playing. The car came over the bump at an alarming pace before slamming on its breaks once it got up to the clearing. Headlights blinded all of you, and your body moved on its own accord to stand directly in front of Eddie.

The engine cut off abruptly, the lights dimming enough to reveal fire engine red sports car with a black stripe down the middle. You could barely see the fuzzy dice hanging from the rear view mirror through the heavily tinted windows.

“Holy shit,” you hear Eddie say behind you. The fear had left his features, replaced with an elated shock that left you wanting to ask several questions. But before you could question him, Eddie maneuvered around you and the rest of the guys heading straight toward the mysterious car.

Just as Eddie approached the car, the driver side door swung open. A man  only a few years older than you with blond, spiked hair stepped out. The man had to be at least 6’5, his face covered in piercings and he had an over all aura of trouble.

“How the hell did he get this address?” You hear Jeff question Grant and Gareth.

“Rick!” Eddie shouts excitedly.

“Holy fuck, dude,” Rick says, pushing up his sunglasses and slamming his car door shut. He runs up to Eddie and embraces him tightly, bending down to be at his level. Rick pulled back, looking Eddie up and down before bringing his hand down on his shoulder a few times.

“Damn, that dude really did a number on you, huh?”

Eddie visibly shrinks, shrugging his shoulders. “Yeah, you could say that.”

“Who the hell is that?” You ask Jeff quietly, taking a few steps back to be standing next to him.

“That’s Reefer Rick,” he says with an annoyed tone. “He’s Eddie’s friend. Got Eddie into dealing in school.” Your neck almost breaks with how quickly you look at Jeff.

“Dealing? Like, drug dealing?”

Jeff looks at you and nods. “Uh, yeah? You didn’t know about that?”

“Um, no. I didn’t.” 

“It was just weed,” Jeff as an attempt to save face, “Aaaaaand sometimes random pills that Rick would give him to sell. But nothing serious.”

“Oh, okay. Just weed and pills. Which are both totally illegal to sell but it’s cool right?” Your blood was starting to boil with this new information. You don’t know why you’re even upset, it’s not like you really cared if people smoked weed or whatever.

Really it’s the idea of Eddie getting in trouble after everything he’s been through. Drug dealers are notorious for being sneaky and conniving, right? What if this guy thinks Eddie got money in the settlement and is here looking for a handout.

“Hi," you say in a clipped tone to the man as you approach him and Eddie. You give him just your first name, extending a hand out to him with faux pleasantry as you settle next to Eddie in his chair. “Who are you?”

“Oh, hey, this is Rick,” Eddie says to you with excitement. “Rick, this is my…caregiver.”

Rick takes your hand, looking you up and down before giving you a loose handshake. “Well, hello nurse,” Rick smiles, maintains eye contact with you as he continues to hold your hand.. 

After a beat Eddie clears his throat, and Rick retracts his hand from yours. You don’t miss the subtle shift in Eddie’s chair, making him close enough you can feel his arm against yours. You took the hint, and stepped back until you were behind his chair. Rick laughed lowly before looking back to Eddie. 

“Well, I’m glad you have someone who can take care of you,” Rick says with a cheshire smile. “Especially since I’m sure Wayne is back at work. Must be expensive to live all the way out here.”

“Eh, we had it built out here as part of the settlement, so it’s paid for. He still has to pay the bills, though.” Eddie’s voice trails off at the end. “Wish I could do something to help…”

“Yeah, I don’t blame ya,” Rick says as he scans the land, nodding his head to the guys as he does. “I’m sure you’re not interested in getting back into the business with me given…well, everything.”

“Ah, yeah…I owe you an apology…” Eddie looks up to Rick with a guilty expression.

“For what? Oh, you mean my house?” Eddie nods and Rick waves him off. “Nah, don’t sweat it man. I took everything with me when I went to Vegas so if anyone went in there snooping they wouldn’t have found anything anyway. It looked like they had sent someone in to clean though. Looked nicer than the day my parents—I mean, the day I bought it.” Eddie nods, letting out a breath that he was holding as Rick talked.

“Well that’s nice that your house that you bought is all clean,” you say, grabbing onto the handles of Eddie’s wheelchair, “And since he’s isn’t interested in your business endeavors, I guess that means you don’t need anything from Eddie then, right?”

Rick looks down at Eddie, then back up to you with a curious look. His tongue rings peaks out from between his lips as he plays with it, before popping it back in his mouth to speak. 

“Well, I was just coming out here to see a dear old friend of mine. But, there is one thing that I want to speak with him about. In private.” He leans down to eye level, eyes squinting with how tightly he smiles at you.

You open your mouth to protest immediately, but you feel Eddie push against the wheels, his chair moving away from you as he motioned Rick to follow him. 

“Give us just a second.”

You stand in the same spot, speechless as they move far enough away that you can’t hear the conversation between them. A hand on your shoulder pulls your attention, and Dustin motions you back over to where the guys are huddled together.

“He’s an idiot,” Grant whisper yells into the huddle.

“Yeah, but he’s obviously lost his best salesmen for the high school territory,” Mike argues. “Wouldn’t be surprised if he was asking if one of us would want to start dealing for him.”

“He better not. You guys better not,” you say with a pointed finger at the boys who were still in high school.

“Trust us, we won’t,” Dustin said with a firm tone.

“Well, whatever he wants, it’s probably not good.”

“Well…”

“Jeff, no.”

“Hey, he’s the whole reason Eddie even stayed in high school. He probably would have dropped out if Rick hadn’t convinced him to keep trying.”

“He only wanted Eddie to keep trying so he could keep selling drugs to high schoolers!”

“That’s a pretty good point.”

“What’s a good point?”

All heads turned to Eddie, who was just behind you with an amused smile on his face. Rick wasn’t with him, still standing back by his car with a lit cigarette in his hand, eyes watching you carefully.

“Oh, we were just…”

“We were saying that you two should decorate her car for the Trunk r Treat festival. And the point was…that you could wear a mask and no one would know it was you?”

Everyone looks at Dustin like he has two heads. Where he even came up with that…you had no idea.

Eddie’s curls bounce as he shakes his head. “What? Trunk r Treat? What are you guys talking about?”

“Oh, the Trunk r Treat is what the town is doing instead of regular trick r treating since the roads are still pretty messed up. Everyone is gonna pull their cars into the fairgrounds and let the kids trick r treat there.”

“That sounds like fun,” you say, looking at Eddie with a hopeful smile. “It would be nice to get out of the house for a little bit. You said Halloween is your favorite holiday, right? I think it would be fun!”

“You guys are serious, aren’t you?” The mood shifts when Eddie speaks. “You seriously think it would be a good idea for me to go out into public? On Halloween night?”

“That’s why I said you could wear a mask!” Dustin seems to be the only one who isn’t affected by Eddie’s tone. “And no one knows you’re missing part of your leg. It would be perfect.” Dustin gestures to you, “And you’ll have your guardian angel with you. If anyone does give you shit she can pack you up in the car real quick and you can say ‘I told you so’ to us at the next Hellfire meeting.’”

Eddie’s jaw rolls in frustration, a heavy sigh leaving him as he leans forward in his chair.

“Hopper will be there,” Will chimes in. “Him and my mom are going to decorate the back of his old police cruiser. I-I could tell him you’re going and I’m sure he’d keep an eye out on you.” The boys look from Will to Eddie as they wait for his response. 

“I…I…Let—let me think about it. Okay? No promises.”

The boys all perk up at Eddie’s potential compliance. Chatter about costumes and getting together at Mike’s parents house has everyone forgetting about the concerns of Rick’s arrival.

You remember though. You hear Rick laugh to himself from where he’s leaning against his car. Looking over your shoulder, you watch as he flicks his cigarette away and opens the door. Stopping about halfway in, he looks at Eddie then to you. He sends you a wink, then gets in without another word.

After about a week of convincing from all the Hellfire boys, you, and even Wayne, Eddie finally caved in and agreed to go to the Hawkins Trunk r Treat. Wayne talked with Hopper about trying to get your cars parked next to each other during the whole event just in case. And Wayne also promised that him and his friend Ben would stay close by in town if anything happened. Eddie didn’t really have much of a reason to say no.

You on the other hand had to come up with an excuse as to why you wouldn’t be spending Halloween with your best friend.

“We ALWAYS have movie night! You can’t just call in sick or something?” Tonya pleads with you as the two of you split each others Chinese take out. You shrug your shoulders, the feeling of guilt creeping up like bile in your throat. 

“I’m sorry Tonnie, I can’t. Honestly, I’m surprised you haven’t made plans with Charles for the night.”

“He probably would have asked but he knows that we always spend Halloween together.”

“I’m sorry, Tonya, but we’re big girls now. Sometimes things need to change…”

Her lower lip pouts at you, and you can tell by the way her eyes are glassy that she’s genuinely upset. If it were anyone else, you would be spending time with her in a heart beat. Ever since the two of you became friends, Halloween has been your thing. 

You’d always been scared of the holiday after when happened with your parents, but over the years Tonya has been able to slowly tear down your fears and make the holiday enjoyable again. Now that you’ve gotten the chance to potentially to the same with Eddie and his fear of going in public again, you feel obligated to follow in her image. 

“I’m really proud of you, you know?” She miles as you as she dabs the wetness from her eyes. “I can’t believe how much you’ve changed. Your parents, your grandparents…they’d be really happy to see you working so hard. With school, work, and still helping me out here…Oh, come here!”

She stands from her seat and rushed to hug you, which you return with equal adoration. For a split moment you want to tell her everything. About Eddie and everything he’s been through. About how you’re starting to prefer being at the Munson house over anywhere else. About how if anyone has come out of their shell, it’ Eddie. About how you’re not really sure about Sam, and how you don’t want to admit that there might be a reason why you’re feeling that way…

“Weren’t kiddin’ about your trunk being big, huh?” Eddie and Wayne peer into the trunk of your car as you pop it open. “I’m sure you won’t have any issue gettin’ it in and outta here. Want me t’help ya get in, son?”

“Can I try first?”

Wayne nods and Eddie maneuvers himself to the passenger side of your car. You’re already standing there waiting with the door open for him, holding it in place. 

The Trunk r Treat was this coming weekend and the Hellfire boys were going to help decorate your trunk before Friday’s game. All you and Eddie had to do was get the materials and the candy. You saw Wayne hand Eddie some cash thinking that you weren’t looking, but you had no intention of letting Eddie pay for anything. This was for him, so why stress him out when you know that money is a touchy subject for him?

Eddie gets his chair in position and locks the wheels. Grabbing the “oh shit” handle and the side of the door, he lifts himself up from his chair and pauses for a moment. His face is scrunched up from pain after already having physical therapy this morning. It was hard not to get him to over do it now that his mobility has started to improve, but you would rather him learn his limits than go back to being bedridden.

A few deep breaths and a quick shift of his foot puts his ass on the edge of the seat of your car. There’s a loud thump where his head bumps the low slope of your cars door, but he just rolls his eyes and laughs it off, much to your joy. You think about how two months ago when you started caring for him that he probably would have thrown a fit and fell in it if he were to go through this exact scenario now.

“Good job, Eddie,” you praise. He looks away from you bashfully, muttering a small thanks under his breath. Even if he wouldn’t admit it, you know deep down Eddie likes to be told he’s doing good. You’ve noticed it in the ways he reacts to you commenting on all of his achievements; the coy smiles and the way he starts to fidget with his rings when you sing his praises. 

Wayne grabs Eddie’s chair and puts it in the trunk. “You gonna be able to get this thing out when ya get there?” 

“Yep! I’m used to lugging wheelchairs around by now. No biggie!”

Wayne nods and rounds the car to Eddie’s side. As the two men talk, you hop into the passenger seat and start the car.

“Now don’t go and give her any trouble, Eds.”

“I know, I know,” Eddie says, rolling his eyes. “If anything she’s gonna give me trouble. I just know she’s gonna be having me dress up in every costume they have there.”

“That’s not true,” you say defensively. “I actually already know what I want you to go as, so if you don’t fight me on it then you’ll only have to try one costume on.”

“Why does that not make me feel any better?”

Wayne barks out a laugh before closing the car door. He waves the two of you off as you make your way down the driveway until he’s no longer in site.

“Okay, let me make sure I’m understanding you right.” Eddie holds up the large, white, round costume that you handed to him, eyeing it skeptically. “You want me to dress up as…an egg?”

You laugh through your nose involuntarily, trying and failing to keep your composure. In your hand you hold what can only be describe as a “sexy devil” costume that consists of a short red dress, a pair of devil horns, and devil’s spear.

“Yeah, and I’ll be the devil, see? We’d—” you snort again, “We’d be deviled eggs!”

A smile cracks on Eddie’s face, more amused at your inability to contain your own laughter rather than at your poor excuse for a Halloween costume idea. He give you a half serious look as he hands you back the egg costume without another comment.

“Awe, come on,” you say as you take the costume from him, “you have to at least admit it was funny.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. What’s the real idea that you have?”

You swap the costumes out from the rack for the ones you really wanted to do. Handing Eddie the long nightgown, you hold up what would be your costume; a long red cape and a plaid blue dress with a ruffle under the skirt. 

“Okay, so obviously that’s red riding hood,” Eddie says pointing to your outfit. “But what exactly is—” You hand him a wolf mask, which he takes from you and examines carefully.

“You’ll be the Big Bad Wolf, disguised as the grandmother,” you explain after a long moment of silence.

“Yeah, I gathered that,” he sasses. He takes a few more moments to think it over, and you watch the way he looks at your costume, then to you. There’s a shift in his demeanor that you can’t quite interpret, and before you can think too much into it he finally speaks.

“Alright, I’ll do it,” he says, placing the costume pieces in his lap. “Better than the deviled egg idea.”

“Well, maybe next year I can sway you into the deviled egg. But I guess this works, too.” Eddie straightens in his chair, and you swear you could see a small blush on his cheeks. 

After you gathered everything for your costumes, you and Eddie did a little more shopping around for some stuff to decorate your trunk with. Streamers, hanging bats, fake spider webs, and enough candy to feed a small village fill your arms and Eddie’s lap all the way to the check out counter.

As the girl behind the counter rings out your items, you notice she keeps taking glances at Eddie. He’s too busy looking at the check out candle to notice, but you keep an eye on her just in case.

“Is that all for you?” She asks with a pop of her gum. You nod and she give you your total. As you reach for your wallet in your purse, Eddie shift in his chair, pulling out his own wallet.

“I got it,” he says, taking a $20 bill from the billfold.

“Nope,” you say, pulling out your own money and handing it to the cashier.

“No, please. I want to pay--”

“It’s okay, Eddie. Save it and buy us a pizza or something sometime when I don’t feel like cooking your dinner.”

The girl behind the counter’s gum popped loudly as she held your change in her hand. Eddie shrank back in his chair, stuffing the $20 back into his wallet. You took your bags from the counter and plopped them in Eddie’s lap, much to his surprise.

“Here, if you want to help, you can carry these.”

As you push his him out of the shop, Eddie asks you to stop before going off the curb.

“What’s up?”

“Can we go into the Goodwill over there?” He nods down the strip of stores where the sign to the second hand shop is displayed in the window.

“Sure,” you say without a second thought, “Lets put these bags in my car and then we can go in there.”

The store is a little busier than you expected. Everyone from kids to adults were checking out the shelves for their last minute home made costumes and accessories to wear this weekend. It made you happy to see so many people excited about the event.

The boys told you that Halloween can be a big deal in Hawkins. But after the earthquake, those who still remained wondered if there would even be a Halloween this year. Apparently the mother of one of their friends, Lucas, joined the city counsel and pitched the idea in a city meeting and most everyone was on board.

“The only person who protested was Mary Cunningham,” Dustin told you in a hushed tone. “She said it wasn’t safe to have all of the towns kids in one spot for ‘easy pickings.’” Mary Cunningham was the mother of Chrissy Cunningham, the girl that was murdered by Victor Creel in Eddie’s trailer before he attempted to kill Eddie himself. Wayne never told you this, but, according to the boys, Mary Cunningham is still convinced Eddie was the one who tried to kill Eddie, despite the evidence that supports that it was Creel. You hoped that she wouldn’t show up to the event this weekend.

“No way!” Eddie pulls a tee shirt from one of the racks. You’re standing next to his chair rather than behind it to make room for people to go around you in the tight, over stuffed isles. You turn your body, hand on his shoulder as you try to let a lady and he kid move behind you.

“What is it?”

“It’s a Black Sabbath tour shirt! This one’s from a tour they did in the 70’s though. Like a tour they did in Europe. I wonder how it ended up in this dump of a Goodwill?”

“Sounds like it ended up here so that you could buy it.”

Eddie looked at the shirt solemnly. Most of his attire that he had consisted of plain tee shirts and pajama pants that had come from packs at the store. All of his clothes and other personal belongings had been swallowed up by the earthquake and destroyed. 

“Well…” he said after a few moments, “It is only 50 cents…”

“Perfect!” You pluck the shirt from his hands and fold it over your arm. “Keep looking. Maybe someone’s metal loving uncle passed away and his family brought his clothes here. I’m gonna go look at some pants for you.”

“There’s that beautiful smile that I love to see,” Sam says as you push the door of his office open. You gave him a small smile, setting his coffee down on his desk. He stood up, rounding the desk to embrace you in a tight hug, his lips meeting the top of your head to leave a kiss there. 

“Morning,” you say, taking a step back from him when he loosens his grip. “Sorry I couldn’t bring you one of these before today. Hopefully you made it through the week without.”

“Barely,” he said with a sarcastic huff. “Have to admit I missed seeing you more, though. Been busy with midterms?”

You give him an exhausted nod. Between getting everything together for this weekend, helping Tonya deep clean the house before her trip with Charles, and dealing with your midterms, you’d been properly worn down to a barely functioning human.

“Awe, poor thing,” Sam cooes at you, his hand cupping your face to rub his thumb against your cheek. “Sounds like you deserve a little fun weekend. My buddy is having a get together at his house weekend and I’d really love for you to come.”

“This weekend?” You ask. Sam nods. “Oh, no I-I can’t. It’s Halloween weekend and…I spend it with Tonya every year. It’s been our tradition since we were kids. Sorry.”

“Oh, that’s okay. I’ve been wanting to meet her and this Charles guy you hate so much. We can do a double date. Maybe some haunted houses or something?”

“No! No—I, um, I don’t do haunted houses.” That wasn’t a lie.

“That’s fine, maybe a movie at the drive in?”

“Sam, I’m sorry. It’s not exactly a tradition where we let other people take part in. Charles wont be there either.”

Sam’s shoulders slump as he sighs, his lips tightening into a straight line. 

“Okay, I get it. I’m not going to step on any toes. But…” Sam looks up at you through his lashes, “make it up to me next weekend?”

You breathe in, then out. It suddenly hits you that…you don’t really want to make it up to him net weekend.

“Sure.”

The Munson household is a busy one this cool, autumn Saturday. Eddie and the guys are in his room getting ready for the night. Their collective laughter and talking over each other is the only thing louder than the volume of the music that they have blaring. Even with the door closed you find it hard to think over the noise.

Wayne and Ben are in the kitchen prepping dinner for everyone before the nights festivities. They were joined by the infamous Hopper and Joyce Byers who brought the food by when they dropped off Will and Jane. The same Jane who was occupying the hall bathroom with you right now.

“They were trying to get you to dress up as one of the guys from Devo?”

Jane nods with an annoyed look. “Yes. They wanted me to wear a stupid red hat. I told them no, and said I wanted to go as Pat Benatar instead. She is my favorite singer.”

“Great choice,” your head bobs in agreement. You take a little more of the blue eye shadow on the tip of your finger and smudge it over her eyelids. “What’s your favorite song?”

“Heartbreaker,” she whispers shyly with a smile. 

“That’s a good one! I think We Belong is mine.”

“That one is a good song, too. It’s a love song.”

“Yeah, I guess you could say I’m a sucker for a good love ballad,” you shrug, washing your hands of the make up that stained your fingers. “Now, where is the wig you said you got?”

Jane helped you zip up the back of your dress just as there was a knock on the bathroom door. You pulled the red cloak over your shoulders as she opened it, her dad standing just on the other side of the doorway.

“Jesus, kid, is that enough make up?” He says, his voice raising a distraught octave. 

“Oh, look at you!” Joyce pushes past the disgruntled Hopper and into the bathroom. She looks Jane up and down, her excitement a clear contrast to Hoppers. 

“You look just like her in those pictures! I’m glad we were able to find this fabric to make this jumper.”

“Joyce, she looks like a—“

“Woah, Pat Benatar!”

Will and Gareth poke their heads around the corner of the door frame, both of them dressed like characters from Star Wars whose names you can’t quite remember. 

“Oh, you boys look adorable!” Joyce squeezes Will's cheeks, much to his dismay. Gareth lets out a snicker at will’s expense, only stopping once he’s caught your eye. Then, like usual, he slinks back out of sight. 

In his place Mike and Dustin pop up. Dustin is dressed like Darth Vader, his helmet in his hand as they barge into the bathroom. “Are you two ladies ready to go yet?”

“I think so,” you say, quickly clearing up the mess that you’ve made in the Munson bathroom. 

“Wow, El, you look badass!” Mike says, putting an arm around her for a side hug. 

“Thank you, Mike. She helped.” Jane says, pointing in your direction. 

“Oooh, I get it,” Dustin suddenly says as if he’s had an epiphany, eyes narrowing as he looks you up and down. 

“Get what?”

“Your’s and Eddie’s couple’s costumes.”

The eye shadow pallet drops from your hands with a loud clutter. “Wh-what are you talking about?”

“What do you mean ‘what am I talking about?’ You and Eddie are going as Little Red Riding Hood and the Big Bad Wolf, right?” 

“Well, yeah, but…”

“That’s, like, a classic couples costume!” 

“Oh, that’s so sweet!” Joyce says, her hand on her heart as she looks up at Hopper. “Didn’t you and Margaret Sanders go as the wolf and Red Riding Hood to John Collins’ Halloween party one year?”

Jim nods with a big, mustached grin. “Yep.” 

“I feel like an asshole.”

Eddie’s voice in the hallway catches your attention. Jim moves out of view, making room for Eddie’s chair as Jeff and Grant follow behind him. 

“You sound like one, too,” Jeff laughs from behind him. 

Eddie was being his normal grumpy self today. Enough that you were worried that he might call the whole thing off and not go. But, he seemed to manage to push through. Although you worried that the amount of people occupying his house was stressing him out a bit. 

As Jeff pushed him past the door, Eddie turned to look inside the overcrowded bathroom. Even with all of the bodies in the way, his eyes were on you in an instant. He didn’t say anything, more so looking at you like a deer caught in headlights until he was completely out of view. 

“Foods ready!” Ben calls from the kitchen. Doesn’t take much more convincing than that for everyone to file out of the bathroom and into the kitchen. You take the opportunity to finish putting everything away before joining in the chaos. 

Loud chattering fills the kitchen as everyone moves around the table to get their food. When you do come out of the bathroom, you see someone’s already put Eddie in the recliner, his tv tray set up in front of him as he patiently waited for everyone to finish getting their plates. 

“Hey stranger,” you say, stealing his attention from whatever daydream he was having.

“Hey,” he said with a tight smile. You eyed him suspiciously. 

“What hurts?”

He’s still for a moment, before he sighs and gives you a more genuine smile. 

“I’m just having those ghost pains or whatever.” His hand rubs over the clothed end of his thigh where his leg was severed.

Ever since he started physical therapy two weeks ago he’s been complaining of pains in his leg where it's not there anymore. You asked your professor about it, and she said it's not uncommon for amputees to have phantom pains. There’s not much you can do about it other than try to distract the person having them. 

“I see. Well, maybe eating something might help. Is anyone getting you a plate?”

Eddie shook his head with a shit eating grin. “I told them that you’d wanna do it.” You rolled your eyes, but he was right.

There was still a weird feeling that resided in you about being there for anything other than being Eddie’s caretaker. Even after two months of Wayne’s warm hospitality, a month of being taken in by the Hellfire boys, and being treated as if you’ve always been around by Joyce and Hopper, you still felt like an outsider looking in.

People on foot walked by as the cars loaded in through the entry gate of the Hawkins fairgrounds. You were sure that just about everyone in this town was showing up tonight. It made you buzz with excitement to see all the costumes and decked out cars. 

“Excited?” Eddie asks you, his eyes darting around at the crowds. There was an indecipherable tone to his voice. 

“Of course,” you say, the car moving up a bit to keep up with Hopper's cruiser in line. “Are you?”

“Is Eddie excited about Halloween?” Dustin’s head pops between yours and Eddie’s from the back seat. He slaps his hand on Eddie’s shoulder and gives him a little shake. “Eddie is probably the biggest fan of Halloween I know. He made a whole one shot campaign based on our party trying to escape from Michael Meyers.”

“What? No way, that sounds awesome. Halloween is probably my favorite Halloween movie.”

“It is a classic,” Eddie says with a grin. “Although, I will say that Friday the Thirteenth did freak me out for a while after I saw it for the first time. Still can’t believe that it was his mom the whole time—”

“His mom the whole time?” The two of you say it in unison. You look at each other for a moment before laughing. Dustin makes an audible gagging sound from the back seat and Eddie wastes no time reaching back to swat at him. You shush the both of them as Hopper pulls ahead, making your car next in line.

“Hi, folks,” the older gentleman says, shining a flashlight into the car and almost blinding you. “Hop took care of your cover charge and told me to make sure you guys get the spot next to him.” The man hands you a paper with the number 66 printed on it. It looks like it’s cut in a way that lets it hang from your rear view mirror, most likely to keep track of the amount of cars coming in to participate in the event.

As the man gives you instructions on how to find your spot inside, you cant help but you notice the subtle way he glances to Eddie in the passenger seat. You’re not sure if the man recognizes Eddie or if he’s trying to, but you don’t stick around long enough to find out. Eddie slips on his wolf mask once you take off inside of the fair grounds. 

It doesn’t take you long to find your spot. The Hopper-Byers group is all helping out to set everything up for Joyce and Hopper to pass out candy. The back of the cruiser is set up to look like a tent, with a fake fire, a stuffed bear, and a blue blanket meant to be a lake side view. 

Dustin pulls Eddie’s chair out from the back seat of your car, helping him out as you pop open your trunk. The effort they put into their theme almost makes you feel self conscious of your trunk, the ‘theme’ looking more like a Halloween store exploded rather than anything cohesive. But then you remember it was put together by Eddie and his friends, and you decide you love it just the way it is.

 “All right!” Joyce calls out once your cars are all set up. She sets a plastic bowl in Eddie’s lap and starts pouring candy into it. “Let’s get this party started!”

“Joyce don’t start getting to crazy before the kids get here,” Hops says teasingly as he pulls on his trapper hat. To go with their theme Hop and Joyce are dressed up like campers, which, in hind site, was probably a good call considering how cold the nights have been getting in Hawkins. You were already starting to regret your costume choice as the breeze hit your legs where your dress didn’t cover.

“Isn’t that the point?” Jane asks. “Is she not supposed to scare the kids?”

“Not enough that they wont come around to get candy,” Will retorts.

He’s half paying attention to the conversation as he looks around. Suddenly his hand shoots up, waving and shouting to the Hellfire guys as they walk through the cars. They all gather together and migrate to stand around Eddie, bags and pillowcases out towards him.

“Trick r treat!” They say in a sing song unison, laughter breaking out among them. Eddie’s head drops in the mask, his body shaking as he joins in with the guffaws of his friends.

As you watch them interact, you wonder what faces Eddie is making under the mask. Recently, you’ve felt like you’ve been able to see the real Eddie slip through the cracks. By now you can tell when one of his smiles is fake or genuine, as well as when his anger is real or just out of pain. But, with the plastic mask to hide behind, will he still feel the need to keep himself so reserved tonight?

It didn’t take long for the night to get going. Spirits were high as children, teens, and adults all made their ways between the cars to fill their bags with candy and other goodies being passed around. 

You could admit you were a little nervous when Joyce gave the bowl of candy to Eddie earlier. But, either no one could tell it was him under the wolf mask, or no one cared enough to say anything.

Eddie seemed to be enjoying himself, too. After a while he started to compliment the different costumes in a scary wolf voice, which the kids that came by loved. He even went out of the way to put candy into the trick r treater’s bags, not caring about the scars on his hands being seen.

“Gonna need another refill,” he says to you as the last group of kids move on down the line.

“Roger that,” you say, jumping up to grab another bag of candy from your trunk, pushing the fake spider webs to the side. 

Some of the bags slid to the back, so you have to really reach in to get your hands on it. Just as you get a grip on the plastic bag, you feel something pulling on the skirt of your dress. You pinch the plastic of the bag, dragging it out with you as you stand up straight. 

Looking over your shoulder, you see that Eddie’s hand is holding on to the hem, pulling it taut over your ass. You’re about to ask what he’s doing when the chuckling from a group of passing boys reaches your ears.

“Thanks,” you say to Eddie, smoothing out the skirt of your dress. His mask looks up at you, and his hand quickly retracts from where it was holding on to you. 

“Y-you’re welcome,” he says, voice muffled by the mask.

As you pour more candy into his bowl, a group of three young girls approaches Eddie.

“Trick r treat,” the girls say, holding their bags out for Eddie.

Eddie is still for a moment, grabbing the candy wordlessly and placing it into the girls candy bags. When he gets to the last girl, he hesitates before letting the candy drop inside.

“Where’s your brother, Lady Applejack?” Eddie suddenly says, still using his wolf voice.

The girl's eyes go wide, shifting between her two confused friends before nodding to the side. The two girls move on to Joyce and Hoppers truck, leaving Lady Applejack behind.

“Munson?” She whispers with bemusement. “Is that you under that creepy mask?”

“The one and only,” he says, his hands gesturing wildly to himself.

The girl looks up and down at you, then back to Eddie. “I didn’t know you had a girlfriend.”

You shuffle in your spot awkwardly. You’d gone the whole night with no one saying anything besides Dustin, and you were hoping that it would stay that way.

“We’re not dating,” Eddie says neutrally. “She’s my caregiver.”

“Caregiver? Is that not the same thing as a girlfriend?”

“Basically.” The words spill out of you like vomit. “It’s all the non fun parts of being a girlfriend without any of the perks.” The girl laughs, but Eddie remains still.

“I like her, Munson. You should keep her around.”

“You know, you never answered my question,” Eddie says, clearly desperate to change the subject.

“Huh? Oh, you mean about Lucas?”

Lucas. That was the friend that the boys bring up a lot. He’s a member of Hellfire but hasn’t been to any of the meetings.

“He’s probably still at the hospital with Max. Our parents tried to get him to come out tonight since my mom was the one who put this whole thing together. But…” The girl trails off, looking down at the ground as her attitude fades away. “You know, he still feels guilty. About…what happened.”

Eddie nods slowly. Max was another victim who got out alive like Eddie, but she’s been in a coma since March. Eddie doesn’t talk about her, even if the boys bring her up when talking about Lucas. 

“Erica, come on!” One of the girls friend’s call, motioning her to join them.

Erica shifts back into her previous demeanor, looking at you and Eddie once again. “I gotta go. Nice seeing you, Munson and Munson’s girlfriend.” Before Eddie could correct her, she was taking off with her friends.

“Sorry,” Eddie says to you, but refusing to look your way.

“It’s fine. If anything I should be apologizing.” You plop back down in your folding chair with a huff. “Dustin said something earlier about our costumes being a couple’s costume and I’ve been cursing myself for over looking that.” 

“Dustin would say something like that,” Eddie grumbles under his breath.

“They’re over here!” Dustin’s voice calls out from a few yards away, his Vader mask in his hand as he motions two people behind him. A guy and a girl dressed as Wham! follow an excited Dustin to your car. 

“Speak of the devil,” Eddie says, slumping down in his chair. “And he’s brought his mommy.” You look at Eddie confused. The pair were definitely not old enough to be Dustin’s parents, maybe older siblings at best.

“Dustin, are you sure we’re at the right car?” The girl asks, shooting you a nervous smile.

“Yes, this is the right car. I literally came here in it,” Dustin shook his head and reached into his bag. After fumbling around a bit, he pulled out a full size milky way and presented it to Eddie. 

“Snagged this for ya from the Martin’s car,” he said with a toothy grin. Eddie grabbed the candy and examined it and you could feel the smile he had from under his mask. 

“Good work, Henderson,” Eddie says, looking up at the boy. Dustin salutes him before standing to the side, looking at the couple behind him with an I told you so expression.

“Holy shit,” the guy says, his law slack.

“Is that really you, M—” The girl cuts herself off before she can finish. The two move closer to Eddie, speaking in hushed tones.

“How’re you doing? Dustin told us that him and Mike have been over to your new place,” the girl asks. You don’t know why, but the way her hand rests on his shoulder irritates you.

“Yeah, he told us the lab set you up with a really nice house. Still not enough after what we all went through in my opinion..”

“Steve,” the girl cuts him off sharply. 

“What? We haven’t seen the guy in six months! Am I not supposed to talk about it?”

“It’s fine, Robin,” Eddie says.

“It’s not fine,” you interject. All eyes are on you now, stunned as if they just noticed you were there.

“S-sorry, we didn’t mean to leave you out,” the girl stutters.

“Yeah, uh…” Steve looks you up and down before straightening his posture. “You must be the caretaker that Dustin’s told us about. Name’s Steve. Steve Harrington.” 

Steve Harrington stands in front of you, offering his hand for you to shake. You take his hand and introduce yourself. Steve Harrington is handsome in a similar way to Sam you think. 

The feeling of eyes on you makes you turn your head. The light catches just right you can sort of make out Eddie’s eyes through the holes of the mask.

“What did you say?” You ask, looking back up to Steve after zoning his question out.

“I just asked if you were free sometime. Maybe we could get a bite to eat before you go over to Eddie’s some time?”

“Oh, sorry,” the words poured out of you again. “But I’m seeing someone.”

You’re not sure if it’s just you, but it suddenly felt like the air got thicker. You could feel Eddie’s eyes bore holes into you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him.

“Shit, my bad,” Steve says, taking a step back. “I thought Dustin said you two weren’t together.”

“We’re not,” Eddie says in a clipped tone.

“Yeah, we’re not, Eddie and I. I’m, uh, I’m seeing a guy from my school. Sam…”

“Ohhhh, okay,” Steve nods, “Gotcha. Well, if things don’t work out—OW!”

“Take a hint, dingus!” Robin whisper yells at Steve. She looks back to Eddie with an apologetic look. “We should probably go, but call one of us some time and we’ll sneak some movies to you, okay?”

Eddie wordlessly nods, his focus on the bowl of candy in his lap now. Steve and Robin give their goodbyes and move along, bickering between themselves as they go. Dustin lingers with you and Eddie for a moment, unsure of what to do with himself.

“Do, uh…"Dustin clears his throat, attempting to lighten the mood. "Do you guys want to go check out the fair at all?” Dustin points with his thumb over his shoulder. “There’s some pretty cool stuff at the back. A haunted house, some games…you know, fun stuff. I’ll, uh, sit and watch the candy.”

You look over to Eddie waiting for his response. After several moments Eddie finally nods, lifting the plastic bowl and handing it to Dustin. You rise from your seat, moving out of the way so Dustin to take your spot.

When you turn to see if Eddie is ready to go, you find that he’s not there. Instant panic sets in, as you look out to the crowd to find him. For a split second, you can see the furry hair on the back of his mask a few cars away. Bobbing and weaving through the clusters of people, you grab the handles of his chair and stop him, making him jerk forward.

He looks back, body tense until he realizes it’s you, his shoulders slumping forward.

“Where did you think you were going?” Anger evident in your tone.

“What do you mean? I thought you were right behind me.” The cutting tone of his voice hits a nerve.

“Eddie, I…” You can feel a whole lecture on the tip of your tongue. But the more you think about it, the more you realize that Eddie is his own person. As much as you’ve grown to want to protect him, he probably knows more about these fairgrounds and all of these people than you’ll ever know. He was a fully functioning person seven months ago, not needing anyone’s assistance just to get through a crowd of people. 

“Do…do you want me to leave you alone?”

The two of you stand in the middle of the moving bodies without a word. It feels like the two of you are in slow motion as people move past you.

Eddie sits up, shaking his head. “No.”

That’s all you needed to hear. Grabbing onto the handles of his chair, you push him through the crowd at a leisurely pace. It takes a few minutes for hm to say something, but the paper mache ghost from Ghost Busters hanging off of a cars trunk catches his attention.

“Woah, that’s awesome!” Eddie points it out to you.

“Do you think they made that?”

“I bet they got it at a Halloween store.”

Conversation flowed like that between you as you both rated the cars out of 10 as you passed. There were more cars like yours that decorated just enough to be passable, but a good majority of the citizens of Hawkins really do mean business when it comes to Halloween. 

“They made their car look like a dragon!” Eddie shouts over his shoulder to you. “How is that not the best car?!”

“It’s totally an awesome car, but, I’m sorry, the literal hearse with a guy dressed as Dracula in a coffin was hands down the best.”

Eddie slumps back in his chair in frustration, his mask looking up at you dramatically while you push him. You smile down at him, happy to see him having so much fun. He jerks forward and clears his throat, mask moving quickly as if he’s looking for something.

“Oh, look they’re selling popcorn,” Eddie nods to a booth set up off to the side of the cars. It looks like a girl scouts group of some kind, all the girls at the booth wearing patch covered sashes over their costumes. The sign on the booth read “Twenty-five cent popcorn. Proceeds go to Hawkins Rebuild Fund.”

“Hmmm,” you hum curiously. “We should get some. I could use something salty to cleanse my palate from all the candy.”

“Yeah, I think I might puke if I even think about a Reese’s Cup right now.”

You grab a bottle of water and a bag of popcorn to split between the two of you. Not wanting to stop your perusing of the cars, you continued on with Eddie popping a piece under his mask for him and then lifting a few pieces up to your mouth for you to much on.

Continuing on, you finally reach the back end of the fairgrounds. A few fires were going with groups of people gathered around. They talked over cider or roasted marshmallows to shove between graham crackers, adding their favorite candy pieces to complete their sweet treats. 

A few games were set up. Kids and tipsy grown men bobbed for apples in a big trough of water. A partially enclosed area was set up for smaller kids and their exhausted parents to take a break away from the older kids. 

But in the very back was a make shift haunted house, it’s entrance painted to look as if you were walking into a large jack o lantern. Around it were several tarps meant to cover whatever the haunted house was put together with, various paper decorations taped to it to make it look more festive.

“We should go in there,” Eddie says excitedly. “Wonder if it’s dark enough I can take this mask off for a bit.”

“I don’t know Eddie…” you say hesitantly. You weren’t the biggest fan of haunted houses. Being scared from a movie is one thing, but the lack of control you could have in a haunted house made you uncomfortable. 

You also never knew what was going to set you off. The last haunted house you went to with Tonya and some friends in high school was set up to look like an actual house. It didn’t really bother you until one of the actors snuck up behind you, whispering in your ear. It immediately took you back to…

“Awe, come on. Don’t tell me you’re scared?” Eddie teases. “I doubt that Hawkins could make an actually scary haunted house. I bet they have one of those rooms where they make you feel peeled grapes and tell you that it’s eyeballs.”

“I’m not scared,” you say with a level tone, “I’m more worried about you. What if you have a night terror and end up needing me to sit at the end while you sleep tonight?”

Eddie freezes, his eyes wide and looking into yours through the holes in the mask. You feel like you said something wrong, but you’re not sure what.

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

Eddie starts to laugh, clearly trying to get a rise out of you. It both relieves and pisses you off. 

“Eddie, you’re such an asshole! I thought I hurt your feelings!”

“You did, little red,” he feigns offense, his hands resting over his heart. “I can’t believe you would make fun of me. I’m wounded. How will you ever make it up to me?”

“Oh my god,” you say with exasperation. “I’m so sorry Mr.Wolf. I guess I can be brave and take you through the haunted house if that will suffice.”

Eddie fake sniffled and nods. “Yes, I think I may be able to forgive and forget your offense if you lend me your company inside this estate.”

The two of you get in line, chatting for the few minutes it takes to get to the front. When it’s finally your turn, the lanky teen at the door looked down at Eddie. 

“Uh, be careful with your chair, man. Should be good, but, uh, there might be some bumps between the rooms. That alright?”

Eddie nods and the boy ushers the two of you inside. It looks like the haunted house might be made of several sheds or storage units placed together to make a long string of rooms. A lot of the rooms were more silly than scary, but a few people dressed in costumes were able to get some scares out of you and Eddie.

Well, you more than Eddie.

You hadn’t even realized that you were leaning so close to him. It was a reflex to bury your face against him when you got scared, laughing the whole time as you pushed on to the next room. He didn’t seem to mind, probably too busy laughing at your reactions to care. 

You wondered if the actors were talking with each other, because it felt like more people were trying to scare you the further into the haunt you went. By the end you were practically strangling Eddie, your arms wrapped around his shoulders  with your face against the back of his neck as he guided you both through the exit that exited to the other side of the fairground lot. 

“They were so mean!” The words came out in strained huffs as you tried to catch your breath, still laughing from all the nerves. Eddie probably would have been keeled over with how hard he was cackling. He lifted his mask briefly to wipe the tears from his eyes, his hair sticking to his forehead with how much he was sweating under the plastic.

“Holy shit,” he barks out. “That was sooooo worth it. I want to see how bad you get scared in a haunted house that’s actually scary.”

“I can’t believe you’d want to put me through that after everything I’ve done for you,” you say with faux offense. 

“Can’t help it,” he says with a shrug, “I guess I’m a bit of a sadist.”

“Hmmm why does that not at all surprise me.”

The rest of the night went on without a hitch. The guys showed up again eventually, making base between yours and Hopper’s car to trade candy. Jane told you that she got lots of compliments on her costume and thanked you over and over for helping her with her make up. Joyce took the opportunity to get everyone together to take pictures. Apparently Will’s older brother, Jonathan, left one of his cameras with them to take pictures while he’s off at college and Joyce took that task very seriously. 

“Let me get one with the two of you!” She says to you and Eddie. Eddie looks at you and you shrug.

“Do you want to lean on me?” You ask him.

“What do you mean?”

“So you can have a picture not in your chair. I can hold you up--oh we can make it look like you’re trying to eat me?”

Eddie stands, leaning against you as you have your arms around him in a tight hug. Joyce takes a few steps forward to get his chair out of frame, giving you both the go ahead to make a pose. Eddie lets go of you, posing with his hands as if he was about to grab you, the mouth of his mask about an inch from your face. You hold on to him with one arm, letting him lean into you as you let your other hand fly back with fake terror. 

The bright flash from the camera has you grabbing Eddie fully once again. You were able to feel his leg wobbling, still not used to holding up his whole weight. Eddie plopped back into his chair, letting out the breath he had been holding.

After a while the festivities began to wind down as cars started making their exit. When Eddie’s back started to hurt from being in his chair for so long, you decided to join the rest of the crowd and leave. Dustin helped load Eddie up in the car as you cleaned up any mess that had been made.

“Dustin, why don’t you ride with us?” Joyce calls over from their car. “Eddie’s probably tired and ready to get home. You’re staying at the Wheeler’s anyway, right?”

Dustin looks at Eddie, whose mask was up enough to let his face breathe, to you, who looked like you were ready to climb into bed and pass out. Gears turned under those tight curls. A vision of the two of you “accidentally” falling asleep in each others arms on the couch and waking up all embarrassed, until you inevitably confess your feelings for each other and get married and grow old together was clear as day in his mind. 

“Yeah, sounds good. Thanks Mrs.B.”

“Do you even want to attempt a shower?” You ask Eddie with a yawn, eyeing his devil faced pumpkin that the two of you carved that sits next to the front door.

“I feel gross after sweating in that mask,” he yawns in reaction to your yawn, fumbling to get his keys in the lock. “But, honestly, I’ll probably fall asleep sitting in there.”

Eddie pushed the door open, and wheels inside. You can barely get a foot in the front door when Eddie stops abruptly. You follow his gaze to the couch, and are surprised to see Ben leaning against Wayne. His head rests on Wayne’s shoulder, Wayne’s bald head lays against Ben’s head as the two of them snore intermittently. 

Eddie turns slowly back towards you with wide eyes. You place your finger against your lips, giving him a silent shush as you slowly maneuver his chair to his room. Eddie doesn’t say a word, even after you close the door to his room. He’s as pale as a ghost, still looking as you as if he was waiting for you do to…something.

“What’s wrong?” You ask him, and he flinches. He finally blinks when he realizes that you’re not going to say anything, tension leaving his body until he’s visibly exhausted.

“Nothing, I just…ugh I really need to shower. But I’m so tired.” He sprawls out in his chair, hands running over his face and through his matter hair. The icky feeling of being outside and around people begins to make your skin crawl, too, as you feel a shower calling your name.

“Well, the longer we wait, the more tired you’re going to be. Let’s get you in there so I can go home and take one, too.” Eddie perks up, looking at you with knitted brows.

“You’re not staying the night?” 

“Well, my sleeping spot is currently being occupied,” you say with a cheeky grin, nodding toward the living room. 

Eddie presses his lips together, deep in thought as he tries to come up with an solution so you don’t have to make the 30 minute trek home.

“You could…sleep in my bed? I could sleep in Wayne’s room. If the love birds wake up, they’ll just have to deal with it.”

Thinking about sleeping in Eddie’s bed makes your chest flutter in a way that you hate. Well, rather, you want to hate it. But you really don’t. The idea of being in his bed with him penetrates your mind, and you think of anything else to push it away. Like how you’d finally told him about Sam earlier in the night. You still needed to psycho analyze his reaction to the news, which was how you usually passed the time in the car.

“I’ll think about it.” Eddie nods, accepting that as your answer for now.

You set up the shower for Eddie, hardly a word between the two of you with the combined low energy. You quietly snuck Eddie’s dirty clothes into the laundry room as he showered, taking a few minutes to pick up the kitchen in hopes to lessen the work load for Wayne tomorrow.

When you returned to the shower, Eddie had just turned off the water. He was humming a song to himself, probably to keep himself awake as he went through the motions of his shower. 

He pulled the curtain open, and slowly blinked at you. You understood his message, taking the few steps to stand beside him. You went through your drying routine, getting his back and gently squeezing and scrunching his curls in a towel to dry them. There was no way he would be able to blow dry them tonight so you just took your time getting them as dry as possible. Eddie would start to doze off until the resistance of his hair pulling would wake him again.

The two of you got into position for Eddie to stand and pivot into the chair. You held on to him, and he held onto his towel, waiting for your count to stand. A quiet one, two, three had him pushing off of the shower seat with his leg.

But he was still tired, and he began to lose his balance. One hand shot to hold your arm, and the other grabbed the bar attached to the wall. You felt his body starting to go down and reflexively turned him towards his chair. His grip on the wall threw you off, causing you to fall into him when he finally let go and landed in his chair. 

You braced yourself against the arm rests as the floor was slick under you. The top half of your body was pressed into his, mimicking the closeness of an hug. When you went to pull away, you felt his grip on your arm tighten.

“Don’t move.” He says next to your ear.

“What?”

“My towel fell.”

You snort, resting your forehead against his shoulder, wet curls pressing into your skin. “Why do you have such a hard time keeping a towel on?” 

Ever since the first shower where he almost lost his towel, at least once a week his towel seems to find its way out of Eddie’s hands and onto the floor. 

To Eddie’s defense, it was hard for him to maintain his grip, and you couldn’t hold him up and keep his towel in place, so it was something you’d become accustomed to. If he could feel his towel slipping Eddie would usually give you a heads up so you could keep your eyes above belt level.

After a beat you can feel Eddie’s smile against your cheek. “Only around you,” he says with a sarcastic tone. You suck in a breath, and hope he can’t feel the heat that rises to your cheeks at his playful comment. 

“I’m starting to think you do it on purpose.” 

Eddie shakes his head. “If you close your eyes and move, I can reach the towel myself.”

“Okay,” you say, positioning your feet so you can stand up straight.

As you move your foot back, it bumps against something and catches you off guard. Reflexively, you open your eyes to look back and move your foot accordingly. Once you find your footing again, you shift to face forward once again. But, in your sleepy haze, you forget a crucial move; closing your eyes again.

Still looking down, your eyes manage to land directly where they’re not supposed to. 

It was like a car crash. You knew you shouldn’t gawk, but the site of Eddie’s dick as it lay against his leg had you frozen in place. It was long, reaching half way down his hairy thigh, and thick. What made it worse was that he looked half hard; whether on it’s way to full mast or starting to soften you couldn’t be certain.

Suddenly you became very aware at how revealing your costume was and how close your body had just been against his. Hell, you’d been touching and leaning against each other all night. Was he like this because of you? Surely not. You scold yourself for even thinking about it.

Regaining your composure, you push away from his chair and get your footing. You snap your eyes closed so quickly, hoping that he didn’t notice that you were looking. It felt like you had been staring for an eternity, the image of it seemingly tattooed into your corneas even as your eyes were closed, but in reality it was no more than a second. 

Even if you had seen it, you’d assured him plenty of times before that it wouldn’t be the first dick you’ve ever seen and it wouldn’t be the last with the field of work you were going into. But you also respected his privacy, maybe understanding a little more as to why he didn’t want you to see. If he said anything, you wouldn't make a big deal about it.

“Okay, you’re in the clear,” he says, his voice not giving any hint to if he knows what you saw. You open your eyes as he’s backing away and back into his room to get dressed, leaving you to clean up. Which you do quietly, willing Eddie’s dick out of your mind but failing as you pick up.

By the time you joined him in his bedroom, he was still in his chair, fully dressed and his head nodding forward as he tried to fight off sleep.

“Ready to get in bed?” You ask him in a low voice so not to startle him. 

He looks up at you drowsily, “Are you gonna stay the night?” You shake your head and his pouts up at you. 

“I’m sorry, Eddie. I’ll be okay getting home. I’m…feeling very awake now.”

And you head plenty to think about on the drive home. It didn’t feel long enough to analyze everything, your thoughts spilling over as you stare up at your ceiling fan in bed. 

thank you for reading.

[ddejavvu]

poly marauders eating reader out for the first time!! it’s such an intimate, vulnerable act so readers probably nervous. as much as they’d be sweet and soft and stuff, i think they’d be fighting a bit with each other to actually get at you first, like usually they’re so good at sharing and it comes naturally, but with this they just can’t come to a conclusion because this is eating you out, and you’ve never done it before and you seem to be really curious and kinda needy for the experience (this could be amplified if they kinda only just started the sexual side of their relationship, and it’s the next big step for u before actual sex yk)

james ofc swears up and down it SHOULD be him bc it’s his passion not his hobby, he’s been dreaming of it, but remus makes the argument that he’s the most dominant (?) over you, so you’d feel more comfy with him doing it, but then sirius is like >:( my face is pretty, you really wanna deprive her of that view???? for her first time as well, you monsters

babe the day you stop sending me these is the day i'll quit tumblr. you're a treasure i hope you know that <33

this post is 18+, minors dni.

!!!!! no because you're probably really nervous !!! maybe it's your first time altogether, or just with them, but either way it's scary !!! what if you smell weird, what if you taste weird, what if you cum too fast, what if you can't cum at all, what do you do!!!!!! remus probably feels your heartbeat going crazy when he braces a hand on your chest to lean down and kiss you where you're laying back on the bed but he misinterprets it, just chuckles and goes 'excited, hm?' and you don't know how to tell him that you're actually scared he's going to be repulsed by you :(( you just sort of stutter an mhm and when James tries parting your thighs from where he's kneeling at the edge of the bed you tense up, and that's when they start wondering if something's wrong.

"Pet," Sirius croons, stroking a patch of skin over your upper thigh, "What's'a matter, hm?"

and maybe it's James's puppy eyes, maybe it's remus's soft touch on your waist as he helps you sit up, or maybe it's sirius still petting over your thigh, but they manage to get it out of you that you're nervous!! you don't want them to get grossed out!!

i do think sirius would laugh. not at you, not to be mean, but he's just so flabbergasted by the thought of you thinking he could ever be disgusted by your cunt that he probably snorts, and james and remus have to overcompensate like nono darling he's not laughing at you! we just- we don't really know why you'd think that, 's ridiculous, we could never be grossed out by you. promise.'

maybe james offers you a pinky, to swear on the fact that he'll never be repulsed by you, and then it comes down to the matter of who gets to have the first taste.

sirius insists that he should, to make up for the little scare he caused by laughing, and, of course, like you mentioned, to give you the most handsome view you'll ever see.

james begs for it to be him because c'mon, you know him, he loves body worship! and what better for your first time than slow, soft, and sweet, plus he's already got his chin resting on your tummy and he's pressing soft little kisses to the skin there just in case it'll help sway you into letting him to the same to your clit :]

remus still has a hand on your waist, now he's sitting beside you, and he leans in to kiss your jaw with this gorgeous throaty little hum. he noses at your ear, murmurs 'or me, darling? 've always been good at keeping you calm, yeah? 'think you could use a little bit of a leader here'.

James is >:O because what !!! he's a leader !!! he'd guide you through it!!! but remus says 'you'll melt in there, prongs' and everyone knows he's not wrong.

i'll leave this open to reader interpretation, somewhat of a choose-your-own-adventure story, but just know whichever two you don't choose to go first will occupy themselves with your tits or your mouth, and they'll all get a turn eventually, so you're in for a long night <3

[milkywayhou]

"One step backward. Two steps forward"

Summary: “호랑이🐱: Congrats to the happy couple! @Hans839 I’m sure you’ll take good care of our Snow.”

Or

Snow make one silly post and it accidentally blew up.

TWs: Nothing. Just some weird stuff.

Words Count: 900+ words (Not really much)

It was meant as a harmless joke – Snow never dreamed it would cause such a stir. It all started when she took a rare week off to help a friend with their photography project. Trying on various elegant gowns was good wholesome fun – at least until she impulsively snapped a selfie in her favorite flowing white gown with some vague caption about “Feeling nervous for the big day”

Her post were blowing up with congratulatory messages, assuming the gown meant something more significant. Snow laughed it off, replying with bubbles and clown emojis.

Suddenly she noticed a new tag in one of the comments from a certain Korean operator, Horangi.

“호랑이🐱: Congrats to the happy couple! @Hans839 I’m sure you’ll take good care of our Snow.”

Squinting in confusion, she clicked to see who this “Hans” person was that he had tagged – only to realize that the account was set private.

Then Snow nearly dropped her phone in horror when Horangi’s congrats and mysterious tag unleashed a torrent of notifications – their colleagues from KorTac flooding her post, assuming the worst.

Her blood ran cold.

Even some higher-ups Snow barely knew chimed in with off-color jokes. Great, now she’d given the crotchety old Admirals yet another reason to gossip about her love life.

Holy shit, was this some practical joke? Snow wracked her brain trying to connect the dots as more congratulatory messages poured in.

All at once, things clicked into place. Hans must be a high rank man on their base. And knowing Horangi’s mischievous streak, he had purposefully tagged the him just to stir up trouble. Judge by his name this Hans dude was probably a German person, and she was aware of the fact their Colonel is a German.

Fuck

It was König.

As in, her commanding colonel at KorTac, König. The scary, stoic commander she’d only ever patched up in medbay. Faceless weirdo who’d never said more than four words to her but ALWAYS stared so intensely she swore he hated her guts. Snow had no idea he even had social media, much less that his profile was connected to his real name! What was Horangi thinking?

There was only one thing to do – delete the evidence and face the heat wave of embarrassment back at base. But when Snow pulled up the post, she froze again when she noticed more senior commanders had already congratulated her! Deleting it meant the possibility of loosing her face on her workplace!

That day, Snow was mortified hurrying back to base, ready to hide in the weapon lockers for a year and came back later like nothing happens, praying and hoping everyone will forget about her silly post that created these misunderstanding if she suddenly show up one day with a big smile and say “Oh, no, That post is just a joke hahah. And no, I don’t marry the colonel. It was Horangi’s idea haha..” Oh how she wish it was easier like that. Pretty sure it wouldn’t end too well.

“Soooo, when’s the big day? I call being best man.” Snow’s panic must have showed, because Horangi chose that moment to saunter over with a shit-eating grin.

“Horangi I swear to God, you and I are gonna have words-“

“Oh, by the way Colonel König wants to see you, Snow. Good luck…” And with that he leaves doing only God knows what while humming something that sound similar with ‘Here Comes The Bride’, leaving Snow shuddered to imagine König’s reaction, quietly seething behind his closed office door no doubt.

She was so screwed.

How could she face him now without dying of mortification?

Steeling her nerves, Snow marched over and gave a tentative knock. At his gruff “Enter,” she slipped inside, bracing for the inevitable eruption. Instead she found König leaning back casually in his chair, staring at her with an amused glint that somehow wasn’t comforting at all.

“So Schatz , care to explain this intriguing post I saw over your break?”

Snow spluttered helplessly, launching into a garbled excuse about costumes and photoshoot as König watched with growing amusement. Finally he cut her off, standing to slowly circle her desk until she was caged between his arms.

“I see. Well since we’re apparently already engaged…” His predatory tone sent a shiver down her spine. “…We may as well have some fun with it, ja?” That’s when Snow knew she was absolutely fucked when she felt the cold feeling of metal on her ring finger. She sighed before replied back, fighting a smile of her own while mentally plotting Horangi’s demise.

“Of course, Sir”

=====

At the base, König went about his duties as usual. But come evening when things quieted, old habit drew him to Snow’s profile like a moth to flame when she was away from him. What he found made his breath catch.

There she was, his beautiful Schatz, beaming radiantly in white satin. Before reason could intervene, König double tapped to like the photo, mouth curving up at the image he hoped to see for real someday.

Unfortunately one certain meddlesome comrade had been watching too, ready to seize any opportunity. Not long after, a notification popped up on König’s phone – Horangi had tagged him in a comment on Snow’s post, congratulating them both excitedly.

On the one hand, he knew Snow too well, It was undoubtedly just an innocent tease on her part. But on the other hand, the thought of another man putting that gown on her, claiming HER as their wife... Makes König saw red. At that moment strange knot formed in his stomach as he studied the photo more closely than proper.

And then, an idea took hold that he might be able to use this amusing misunderstanding to his advantage…

=======

Phewww. I just done write this one a few weeks ago. Don't worry, I'll continue the other fic later but don't know when, since my right ear is getting worse and I might go seek medical treatment.

Also Love, Reblogged and Comment will be really appreciated!

[runningfrom2am]

cold nights // part fourteen

summary: you showed him colours he knows he can't see with anyone else.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 3.1k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: tribute!reader and mentor!coriolanus, r is very sweet (too kind for this world. literally.), sunshine x grumpy trope kinda, he falls first, violence typical for the source material, r is very smart (as she should), district twelve!reader.

a/n: finally reunited ahh!! (also a note from me while i'm trying to find pics for the header: damn this dude does not look happy very often huh) (okay so update we're settling for a flashback photo bc coryo in his curls era does not SMILE bruh)

my asks are also open to talk about this series! (i do have emoji anons open now too!)

send me any and all of your thoughts! here!

series masterlist // playlist

"Just right here." Lucy Gray stops on the gravel road, nodding up to the house in front of them.

"Okay, sweet." Sejanus smiles, already heading for the front porch but she grabs his arm, stopping him as Coryo just stares at the house, going slightly pale.

"Sejanus, how about you and I go figure out where you guys will stay, and come back for Coriolanus in a bit?" She offers, nodding toward him.

"Oh- uh, yes. Yeah. Good idea." He agrees, picking up quickly on what she meant. Coryo still hasn't said a word, just staring at the run-down shack that apparently was your home. It was clear that efforts were made to maintain the home, the fence had been patched in several places and there were flower beds outside. From what he knew about your family, that would make sense.

"Coriolanus?" Lucy Gray draws his attention again. "We're going to go find you a place to stay, and we'll come back for you in a bit. Does that sound okay?"

"Yeah that's... that's perfect. Thank you." He nods, in a trance-like state as he makes his way up to the door through some only slightly overgrown grass, before he has the chance to second-guess himself.

"He didn't even listen, did he?" Lucy Gray says, both of them watching him from the street.

"Not at all, no."

He can hear the two of them chatting as they disappear back down the road, and he looks for a doorbell that doesn't seem to be there, just settling for a knock instead. He waits a few moments after knocking on the wood, about to do it again when he hears a woman's voice come from inside. "One moment, I'll be right there!"

"I got it, Ma!" Comes from right behind the door as footsteps approach and it's swung open, a young boy standing there. "Hi." He says, eyeing Coryo up and down. It must be your brother.

"Uh, hi." He clears his throat. "Is Y/N here?"

"No, not right now." The boy answers. "Can I take a message for her?"

"Oh, well, my name is Coriolanus Snow, and-"

"Hold on! I'm coming!" The woman's voice comes again, much more excited as she rounds the corner from the hall, brushing her hands off on her apron. "You're Coriolanus?" She asks, a polite but delighted grin on her face as she gets closer.

"Yes, Ma'am." He nods in confirmation, a smile growing on his face. You look so much like your mother.

"Oh my goodness, come in, please! I didn't recognize you!" She gently moves her son out of the way, who is still staring at him with something unwelcoming behind his eyes. As soon as Coryo steps into the home, she's wrapping her arms around him in a hug. "Wow, it is so lovely to meet you! You came a very long way!"

"I did." He chuckles, hugging her back with as much politeness as he can muster behind shaking hands and a pale face.

"Come sit, Y/N will be home within the hour. She'll be just thrilled to see you." She pulls away, gesturing for him to follow her into the living area. "Are you hungry? You must be starving. Let me grab you something."  Your mother says, mostly to herself as he sits down on the couch.

"That would be great, thank you." He smiles, still nervous as he tries to adjust his posture on the slightly uncomfortable sofa, looking around. In reality, he hadn't been "starving" for some time now. It felt good to have a consistently filled fridge all the time, but he has hardly eaten since they left the Capitol. He was too nervous to even think about it.

"Why did you come here?" Your brother asks, making Coryo look away from the family photos that adorned the walls. Most of the frames were broken, photos blurry, but he could tell that to your family that didn't matter.

"I hadn't heard from her. I wanted to make sure she was doing okay." Coryo answers, stiffened by your brother's somewhat hostile energy and the thought of getting to see you so soon. Had you told him something you didn't tell your mother? Probably that he killed that boy, but it seemed unlike you to leave out the part where he had no choice. Unless Tigris was wrong.

Unless you still didn't see it that way.

Your brother hums, sitting in the chair across from the couch and leaning his elbows on his knees. To Coryo, this felt like an interrogation. Coming from a teenager, it was almost cute.

"Lennox, Honey, can you come help me for just a moment?" His mother calls him from the kitchen and he's shooting up again, glaring at Coryo as he walks away. He was confused, today alone he's gotten so many mixed signals on your feelings.

You stuck out the day at work, even though while you were reshelving returns you had to rush to the bathroom in the back to vomit after reading the back cover of an old book about a man who hunted humans. You were hoping by now this would happen less and less, but leaving the house had only made it worse. Getting a job was a mistake and you knew that, but your family was hardly scraping by before you were torn from your life- but neither of your parents could work the whole time you were gone. They were sick about it. Your mom still couldn't work, and you knew your father rarely ever slept these days.

You tried to hand over the winnings Coryo's Dean had given you as soon as you got home, holding it out to your parents with trembling hands as they opened the locked door for you. They wanted none of it. Not a dollar from your three thousand, which you had spent time counting and recounting on the train. They only wanted you home. You had hoped it would give you something else to talk about- that you could smile and be proud that you won and that now your family could live comfortably, at least for a little while. The idea almost made it worth it. As you counted your prize under the dim lighting in the train car, you had wondered if you would do it again for them. The money didn't make saying hello again any easier, though, and you cried for what must have been hours on the porch of your family home, the four of you tangled together in a hug bound together by tears.

It was hard to let go, but when they had, finally, your mother shoved the money back into your pocket and told you to save it. One day, you could buy your own home with it, and that wasn't a bad idea.

All you could do for them now that your money sat in a jar in your closet, the best you could do, was convince them you were fine enough for you all to move on and forget about it. The additional income of getting your own job helped, too. So, when your boss tried to send you home, you declined, and five o'clock couldn't have come fast enough.

You drink water out of an old jam jar on the way home, washing the taste of bile out of the back of your mouth. The fresh air made a world of difference. As much as you adored the smell of books, it got stuffy in there, especially in the summers. Even with the sun beating down on your shoulders over your button-up shirt, you felt better just making the walk home every day. The breeze blowing through the trees, the familiar paths beneath your feet, it was one of the very few things that could ground you in the reality that now, you were safe. That, and the meadow behind your house at night time. Reading under lantern light with the stars overhead and your family at your side, you never felt more real. It was truly over.

That's what you would do tonight, you decided, after a long nap following an unfortunate day. At the end of every unfortunate day, you still had that, and that meant the world to you.

"Oh! Here's Tybalt." Your mom smiles, now comfortable on the couch next to Coriolanus as the cat saunters into the living room, jumping up into the space between them. "This is Y/N's cat, she calls him Tybs." She explains, tears forming in her eyes as the cat crawls onto her lap and she quickly blinks them away, but he had already noticed by then.

"She told me about him." Coryo says, placing his now empty tea cup on the coffee table in front of them.

"Of course..." She chuckles sadly. "He took real good care of us while she was away. On particularly... hard nights," She clears her throat. "He would come out into the living room with her father and I and sit with us, he can purr like no ones business, you know, and then after a while, he would run over to our room there and meow at us. Made sure we got to bed. Then curl up with us and just made sure we knew that.... she was still with us."

A tear falls as she speaks and she laughs nervously, quickly brushing it away. "Gosh, I am so sorry..." She quickly dismisses it. "We have company and I'm crying like a little girl. Forgive me..."

"No, it's quite alright." Coryo insists, shaking his head. Of course, he was worried about you in the arena and every night up until then, but he never entertained the idea of what it was like for your family even though he knew about them. That under the same sky, they were sitting here in this very home praying that you might return. Now, he could see it, and you were the lucky one who made it home. He hoped he wouldn't have to see Jessup's family while he was here. "It must have been awful for you."

"Indeed." She nods, wiping her cheek again. "But, you know, it means so much to us that she had someone there to look after her." She smiles at him. It's genuine. Sad, but full of gratitude. He would no longer wonder where you got that habit from. "I decided I wouldn't be watching anything, but her father insisted. He was out at a bar in town, the only one with televisions, then came rushing back in the door twenty minutes later and dragged us back there with him to watch. I didn't want to go but he said 'No, you need to see this. She's not alone. She has a friend.' So down we went, and they were playing reruns of the two of you being dropped into that cage. I just... She looked so comfortable with you. The way you looked at her we could see you cared, that she was human to you, and that you were there to help. I remember thinking for the first time that maybe she had a chance." She's accepted her tears now, reaching over from petting Tybalt to grasp the young man's hands in her own as she spoke.

Your brother scoffs as Coryo lets her hold onto his hands, a small smile forming on his face that's quickly torn away by Lennox's reaction. "Yeah, and then that other boy had to be the one to bring her something to eat after days."

"Hey!" Your mother gasps. "Lennox, get-" She prompts him to leave if he isn't going to be nice.

He rolls his eyes, getting up to leave.

"I didn't have anything to bring her besides a flower." Coryo finds himself stating, shocking even himself at the confession which halts your brother in his steps. He had never told anyone about the poverty he faced at home, but with them, he felt safe to. Something about knowing you assured him that they were not judgemental people. He clears his throat before explaining. "My family lost everything after the war. When I first met her, I also hadn't eaten in days. I gave her everything I could."

Lennox hums before leaving, either not convinced or embarrassed that he'd even made such a comment. Coryo couldn't tell.

"Coriolanus... I am so sorry." Your mother is quick to apologize, and he's embarrassed by the look of pity in her eyes. Pity from a woman who had, for almost a month, believed she had lost her child, and was still struggling with it today. He felt nothing but guilt.

"Well, I must tell you, your daughter saved us from that." He tries to lift her spirits as a confused expression paints itself into her features, but he doesn't get the chance to elaborate as they both turn at the sound of the front door opening.

"Ma!" You call out, closing the door behind you and kicking off your shoes, preparing your smile to tell her about the absolutely great day you just had.

Your mother stands quickly, patting the boys thigh gently and wipes her eyes. "Hi, Honey, how was your day?" She asks, smiling at him through red eyes.

"Come what come may, time and the hour runs through the roughest day." Your groaned response comes slightly muffled from the other room, and Coryo can hear you shuffling about.

"Oh, no. What happened?" Immediately your mother's tone shifts to worry, and Coryo wonders how it took her less than a second to understand.

"Nothing, Ma. All is fine." You call back, putting your bag down in the kitchen, and heading for the living room, gluing a smile back on. "Guess what I saw on the walk home! A ladybug, it landed right on my-" You freeze as you walk into the entryway, seeing your mother and your previous mentor just standing up next to her.

"Oh, I should have mentioned, we have company." Your mother smiles, already gathering the used dishes from the coffee table, and brushing past you to bring them into the kitchen. Likely, to give you two a chance to talk.

When Coryo lays his eyes on you for the first time again, he can swear his heart stops. Yours definitely does as nausea comes over you in a wave again, and your calculated smile drops.

You don't say anything, just staring with an expression unreadable to him. "Y/N, hi." He breathes, smiling at you. You look beautiful but tired, still. Still, that girl he watched in the arena, it was hard to believe that every part of you made it out. You weren't the same girl he saw for the first time in the reaping- you were more. More of you, and more of something else; hurt, if he had to guess.

"It's good to see you." He continues, his voice a gentle whisper that cuts through the awkward tension in the room. Your heart races, emotions swirling like a tempest within you. Coriolanus Snow, your mentor and friend who had guided you through your time in that Capitol and the games, is standing in your living room, looking both apologetic and hopeful.

"Coryo," You manage to say, voice barely above a whisper as you swallow the sickness rising in your throat. The memories flood back- everything awful you had gone through. Meeting him for the first time as he handed you a flower, sitting on opposite sides of the bars of your cage and talking long into the nights. Everything you had done, everything he had given you, the people you both hurt in the process. He takes a step closer, cautiously navigating the fragile space between you.

"I... What are you doing here?" You ask quietly, your eyes unable to meet his gaze. The room feels smaller, the walls closing in on you quickly.

He clears his throat, a nervous habit you remember well. "I wanted to see you," he says, his eyes pleading for understanding. "I didn't know what you were up to and how you were adjusting and... I was worried about you."

The weight of unspoken words lingers between you, and for a moment, neither of you knows how to bridge the gap that only a month of time has built. You had been away from him longer than you had known him, and facing him again, you were embarrassed. Scared. Coryo takes a deep breath, summoning the courage to express the weight of what he's carried in his mind for too long.

"I never stopped thinking about you," He confesses, sincerity etched across his face. "I tried sending letters but I didn't get any response."

The vulnerability in his eyes mirrors your own, and the air crackles with a shared sense of everything you want to say but just can't find the words. You can't help it as you feel over and over again the countless hours spent together in the lead-up to the worst days of your life.

Tentatively, he reaches for your hand, a silent plea for connection. As your fingers take his, warmth floods through you, dissolving the distance. "I missed you," he admits, his voice barely audible.

A rush of conflicting emotions surges within you- that same embarrassment, anger, hurt, but also a flicker of the fondness that never truly faded. "I missed you too," You admit, your voice breaking through the emotional dam, built up from fear and trauma and the stacks of books in your bedroom that held it back all this time.

With those words, the barriers crumble, and the room is filled with a pitiful silence. The weight of what you had both done begins to lift, replaced with the realization that he did honestly care for you, the way you did for him. As you look into each other's eyes, the connection is undeniable, evidence of a bond that time could never change. You would always be connected to him.

"Do you remember when I brought you that blanket?" He asks and you take in a sharp breath. The few pleasant memories you had of your time together were so often overthrown by the awful ones, these days. His eyes flicker quickly across your face. He looks as scared as you feel. "And I said I wish I could get to know you as you are, not as a tribute, and you said you would show me the stars."

A small smile tugs at the corners of your lips as you nod, the nausea you felt steadily subsiding. "So you walk softly and look sweetly and say nothing. I am yours for the walk and especially when I walk away."

Coryo tilts his head at you, and smiles. That must have been a yes. "Please, don't walk away again." He whispers, and in that moment, he feels the tightness in his chest that carried him through the last month finally release.

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[writeforfandoms]

Homeward Bound 2

Find the series masterlist

Your job as the caretaker is rarely boring, especially around nesting time. Fortunately, you're prepared for almost anything.

Warnings: Swearing, accidental self harm (walking on hot sand), bits of backstory.

Word count: 1k

Your room off the hatching grounds was small, with just the necessities. A simple bed, a small table for some jerky and water, and a small wardrobe. You didn't inhabit this room all the time, thankfully - your normal room was bigger, more spacious. But for the last weeks leading up to the hatching, if you weren't out on the sands, you could be found here. 

You didn't dare go far from the eggs, especially as it got closer to hatching day. It was risky, considering you would only get a few hours’ warning, at best. 

So when someone knocked on your door at some ungodly hour, you woke and rolled out of bed before your brain even had a chance to catch up. You threw on your robe for some semblance of modesty, yanking the door open. 

One of the messenger boys stood in front of your door, hair mussed and cheeks red from his run. “One of the dragons,” he said, one hand waving back the way he'd come. 

You didn't wait for the rest of his message, pushing past him and sprinting down the short hall and to the sands. Hot sand nearly burned the bottoms of your feet, but you paid it no mind. 

It took only a moment to find the dragon in question. A new mother, gray wings spread wide, nearly prancing in distress but somehow never even touching her eggs. 

“Hey, hey, easy,” you soothed, approaching her carefully, hands up. “Easy, beautiful. Calm down and show me what's wrong.” 

She hissed, higher pitched than normal, more nervous than aggressive. But she settled, at least a little, all four feet remaining planted now. 

“Good,” you crooned, taking another couple steps closer. “Now. Show me what's wrong.” 

She hissed again but allowed you close, wings slowly settling against her back again. She stepped back carefully, allowing you to see the nest. 

And the clear crack that ran across the top of one of her eggs. 

“Oh.” Sharp pain lanced clean through your chest. “Oh, beautiful….” Ever so carefully, your fingertips ran across the crack, feeling for moisture. It was possible the internal membrane hadn't torn, in which case you could patch up the egg. Fortunately, that looked to be the case this time. You breathed out slowly, pressing your palm mid-way down the shell to check the temperature. A little cool, but not bad. 

You could make this work. 

“Okay,” you breathed out. “Okay. Your egg is okay.” You looked up at the dragon to make sure she understood, meeting brilliant golden eyes fearlessly. “I'm going to help.” 

She trilled softly, lowering her head to nudge your shoulder very gently. 

“Yes, yes,” you murmured, sparing one hand to pat her snout. “Go get your rider, and a few others if you can. Quickly.” 

She hesitated only a moment, the instinctive pull to remain at her nest strong, before she turned and took off. You didn't watch her go, instead focusing on shoring up the sand around all the eggs. That would help keep them all stable and warm. 

Now to address the crack. 

You didn't want to leave it alone - there was too much potential for things to get in there and cause problems. 

You had all the things you'd need for a kind of paste you could cover the crack with. It would need to be reapplied periodically until the egg hatched, but it would work. 

You spared a brief thought of thanks that your mother had taught you everything about this job. 

The tromp of boots on sand and the trill of the dragon pulled your attention up from the sand. The mother had returned with her rider and two others. Including Simon. 

“Pack more sand around these eggs,” you ordered the three. “All around them. But do not touch the cracked egg. I will be back in three minutes.” 

You stood, frowning thunderously when one of the riders goggled at you, mouth open. “Now,” you snapped.

Simon cuffed the gawking rider before striding off to grab one of the shovels. You turned and ran back to the small storage room off the hatching grounds, full of ingredients for just such a need as this. 

The sand was hot as you carried the bowl back to the egg, reminding you painfully that you were not wearing shoes. You grimaced but pushed through, walking calmly this time. You didn't want to get any sand in the bowl. 

The three riders had made quick work of getting the eggs braced with more sand, Simon still holding the shovel even as he watched you approach, eyes dark. 

“Good,” was all you offered, kneeling carefully next to the cracked egg. Partially to not get more sand around, and partially to make sure your robe stayed covering you. You covered the crack with the paste, carefully going beyond the edges of the crack to be sure nothing could get in. When you checked, the egg was already a little warmer. Very good. 

Sighing softly, you pushed back to your feet. “Very good,” you murmured. “The egg will be fine. Thank you for your help.” You looked at each of the three riders. The one who belonged to the mother dragon actually stepped forward to hug you, something you returned a little awkwardly. 

The mother settled around her eggs again, even more carefully now, crooning softly before she settled her snout right next to the cracked egg. You patted her head, relieved. 

It took until you gathered up the bowl and tugged your robe tighter to realize that Simon was still standing to one side, gaze still fixed on you. You paused, foot scuffing through the sand, eyes blowing wide before you schooled your expression back to neutrality. You nodded to him once and strode back to the storage room, covering the remaining paste with a cloth. It would keep for a while. 

You needed to wash up. 

You paused, just for a moment, at the edge of the sand where the hallway to your room branched off. Simon was standing next to Ilsbet, one hand under her chin, forehead pressed to hers. You turned away from the quiet moment. But not before you smiled.

[underthe-redhood]

our last chance

- a/n: it's mentioned that the reader is the daughter of bruce and selina, but it's never mentioned that she's biologically related, so you could definitely interpret it as her being adopted by them!

8. blueberry icing

- synopsis\\ you watch as dick runs off after batman betrays him for the last time, causing the family to fall apart. after an explosion, and a time machine, with a speedster to help you, you have one last chance to stop history from repeating itself.

• word count: 1,253

• masterlist

INCOMING CALL: dick :3

you quickly looked up at bart, very nervous about why dick could be calling. "pick up before it goes to voicemail!" bart panicked.

"relax, there's no way we got caught," you tried to reassure him but your tone was dripping with anxiety.

"hey y/n, turns out barbara's not here. she texted saying she got an alert, is everything okay?" he asked.

this wasn't totally unexpected but nonetheless your heartbeat was speeding up. "oh uh, i can probably go down to the batcave and check?" you offered, hoping he wouldn't take you up on it.

"no that's okay, we're probably just gonna pick up some donuts and head back. they have blueberry icing, you really like that one don't you?" he suggested.

"yeah i do, you're the best," you said. saying that out loud made some of the guilt go away, because it reminded you why you were doing all of this.

"anything for you," he chuckled before hanging up. you were a little worried that your plan was going to lead to them having fights; but then that was sort of the point, wasn't it?

"what now?" bart asked you. you thought about it for a second, you couldn't just cause one small inconvenience and then move on to the next step of the plan. obviously you would need to cause several more for this part of the scheme to actually work.

"i think we should keep this up for at least like another week or so,” you told him. he nodded his head at you a little bit.

“won’t it seem suspicious if the problems just suddenly stop though?” he asked with slight concern.

“not necessarily,” you said. “if we can make the problems seem subtle enough then it should just seem like they went through a little rough patch.”

“okay yeah, that makes sense,” he said. “but what exactly are we gonna cause next?” he asked, still not totally clear on the plan. but, to be fair, neither were you as you still hadn’t even perfected the plan yet.

“i’m not really sure yet,” you looked down as you thought about it. “oh!” an idea came to you. “she works at the university’s library, so we could pose some fake events there and convince her to work extra shifts to help out with it. the more time she spends at the library, the less time she’ll have with dick,” you proposed the idea and he looked at you in thought.

“i mean yeah, i don’t see why that wouldn’t work,” he said. “we could also try convincing dick to spend some time going over some extra training with the titans. i know starfire really loves it when he comes back to visit and he seems to enjoy getting to help us out every once in a while.”

“that’s perfect,” you smiled. “then it won’t just be babs ditching dick, so it won’t be a ton of negativity just immediately dumped onto them.” you hugged him out of joy, you were so thrilled because it really seemed like things could actually work out and that you could actually get your brother back.

bart loved that you were hugging him, and he couldn’t deny that being around you felt just a little bit more special every time. it was clear to him that he was falling for you, but it didn’t bother him or freak him out. you had always been so perfect to him, even when he only saw you as a friend. it only made sense to him that he would start to catch romantic feelings for you as well.

however, he could tell that you hadn’t caught onto his actual feelings yet. you just assumed that he was a flirt the same way his cousin was before he finally got a girlfriend. and while bart was a bit like wally in some ways, it was different with you and it always would be. the real question to him, however, was how you felt about him. he knew the feelings of closeness and trust were mutual but he wasn’t sure you reciprocated the same feelings.

and, in a way, he was right. the same way you hadn’t noticed the way that he liked you, you hadn’t picked up on the subtle reasons that had led to you acting the way that you did. you weren’t sure why you let it slip that you thought he was cute. you weren’t sure why you felt bubbly when you tried to think about why you called him cute. you considered the possibility that you liked him, but you weren’t sure if you were overreading your emotions or not. that, and you already had so much to worry about with dick that you didn’t think you even had the time to really think much into it.

and so, you let it go. as special as bart was to you, you knew that you would have to work that out later. at that moment you had to worry about dick. it was a little heartwarming, however, to think about how you would never have to worry about bart. he would always be there for you, and for that you were so thankful.

“i’m sorry about your time machine,” you brought it up as your tone became faintly sorrowful. “i know going back home means a lot to you.”

“it’s okay,” he said. “the longer i stay here the more reason i have not to leave.” you didn’t know that he was referencing you, and he was maybe a little glad about that. you meant so much to him, that he would rather tease you about relationships as a friend then try one out when it wasn’t meant to be and risk everything in the process. as long as he got to be around you, it didn’t really matter to him what role he was playing.

his statement filled you with an odd feeling of joy, and still you weren’t sure why. “still, i’m always here for you too.”

then it was his turn to smile, “thank you y/n, that really does mean a lot.” but then his smile became more of a smirk, “so back to when you said ‘if we ever date’..” he trailed off.

you felt flustered, “oh my god you know what i meant!” but there was still that little voice in your head that wanted you to put more thought into it then, rather than later. because, did you know what you meant?”

“i’m just saying, fake dating is such a common trope that your brothers would never suspect it as part of a plan to rewrite the timeline,” he was doing a damn good job at selling you.

“i feel like we might just end up there with the grave i’ve been digging for myself,” you warned him. “why do you want this so bad? is this your way of secretly getting me to fall madly in love with you,” you joked.

“maybe it is, maybe it isn't,” he said with a goofy grin. he was so charming, you really were glad that the two of you became friends– even if it was under tragic circumstances. “i should probably get going before they all come back, though.”

you nodded, “i’ll call you tonight?” he had taken a few steps back but was still looking at you.

“i’m looking forward to it birdie,” he winked, and then he sped off leaving you feeling flustered once again.

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[silhouetteonpaper]

The Enemy

Summary: It’s been years since you’ve given your position at HYDRA a second thought. After all, you deserve the horror that comes along with this line of work. But when an old friend walks into your office, will you change your mind? Natasha Romanoff x Reader WC: 1,690 Warnings: Talks of destruction

The Enemy

The room is eerily silent like usual, just how you like it. The clear sound of the door opening easily draws your attention, the rusty hinges echoing through the brick-walled office. No one has planned to meet with you today, leaving you to raise a brow at whoever dares to enter. As the figure steps into your office, you suddenly understand why this person didn’t schedule ahead of time.

“What are you doing here?” you ask through an unconcerned expression. The redhead stands before your desk, dragging her finger along the dark wood as she keeps her eyes down. Her presence makes you grow nervous, but you don’t dare show it.

“I needed to see if it was true,” she answers. You look her up and down, the Widow who you turned your back on years ago. Back when there were only two sides to choose from, good and evil. Unfortunately for Natasha Romanoff, you ended up on the opposing side to her. What was once a strong friendship is now dust, and it isn’t the kind a 5 year blip could fix.

“What’s true?” You ask genuinely. Unsure if she’s referring to your position at this desk, or your disappearance entirely. Most likely, she’s talking about the job that earned you a seat in this office. The leading agent at HYDRA, their special weapon with your superhuman abilities. Natasha of course doesn’t approve, but you don’t need to ask her to know that.

“That you’re working for them now.” She states, now looking into your eyes. Her expression is the same as it used to be, a cold exterior with that familiar hidden warmth behind her gaze. She isn’t going to make you talk, because she already knows the truth; you feel you belong here with the enemy.

“Not for them, with them.” You correct, earning a laugh from Natasha. She shakes her head and crosses her arms. Classic Nat, always thinking she’s right. You can almost see the sharp words rise in her throat, already preparing yourself to fight back.

“From where I’m standing, that’s not what I see.” Her remark causes your frustration to build, but you keep it contained for now. Of course from her perspective, your position at HYDRA looks more destructive than it actually is. She thinks you’re fighting blindly for the organization, but she doesn’t understand the real reason behind it. Regardless, you know she won’t question further, she’ll only tell you it’s wrong. You can’t help but wonder why she came all this way to poke the bear.

“You know why I’m here Natasha.” You breathe, wishing she’d just put this turmoil to rest. After two years now, it’s time for everyone involved to move on. Maybe you still hold on to the idea of what you could’ve been with the Avengers, but it’s too late to make that choice now. Especially with the ledger you’ve rewritten for yourself.

“Back when you were at the compound, did I ever give up on you?” Natasha questions, her referral to the past giving you whiplash. It doesn’t matter what she did back then, why would she bring that up now? Still, knowing the answer you throw her the bone anyways.

“No.” You admit, the two of you aware it wasn’t her decision for you to leave. You decided to cut all contact and picked the best option at the time, joining HYDRA. But until then, Natasha spent her days training with you, making sure you never felt alone during a rough patch.

“Then don’t force me to do it now.” Natasha’s words make you inhale sharply. The mention of her past protectiveness causes you to hesitate. It’s hard to deny you miss that relationship.

“If you’ve come here to try and coax me back to New York, save your breath. I belong here, this is my home now.” You disclose firmly, looking around the dimly lit room. Being the top assailant for HYDRA is what your life is now, and you know that’s all it will ever be. You can only be the villain, there’s no room for any remnants of the hero mask you used to wear. Once you choose a side, there’s no going back.

“You think you’re right—staying here, but you’re just alone.” She states bluntly. You look her dead in the eyes, the anger inside rising towards the surface. The worst part is, she’s not wrong. You don’t have any friends here, let alone any family. Your boss makes sure you have everything you need to continue the streak of red, but material objects and weapons don’t compare to what you had at the compound.

But still, no matter how much you wish something was different, you can’t just undo everything that’s already been done. “If I’m wrong, I don’t want to be right. This is who I am now, and you’ll just have to accept that.” You tell her in hopes she’ll drop the confrontation. There’s no use in trying to reframe your thinking, you already treat yourself like a weapon more than a person at times. You can’t rebuild a wall when there’s barely any bricks left.

“There’s a warrant out for you,” Natasha finally divulges, watching your subtle change in expression as the fearful words reach you. Of course, there was a bigger reason behind her being here. “I came here to warn you, maybe convince you to come with me before a team of trained SHIELD agents knock down this door.”

You give her an unimpressed look, attempting to hide your weariness as your eyes scan the floor in contemplation. If what she’s saying is true, SHIELD won’t hesitate to lock you away somewhere and treat you as the villain you claim to be. Is that what you deserve?

Natasha can see you deep in thought over these options, so she decides to add another piece of advice. “I don’t want to see you put away for the rest of your life. You aren’t the enemy here,” She expresses, that same warmth in her eyes meeting yours. It’s hard to agree with her, as from any other point of view you are the enemy. But if Natasha—one of the most trusted heroes in the world—is saying something to that effect, there must be some truth to it.

“I can’t go back to the compound now, after all I’ve done. There’s no telling what everyone will think. My ledger is gushing red, I can’t get rid of that.” You voice in resignation. How could the worlds’ mightiest heroes accept the top assailant from HYDRA? You wouldn’t be accepted with open arms, that much is clear.

The redhead takes a deep breath, and you know what’s coming. “You can’t. But you know I’m living proof there’s other ways to make up for that,” she reassures you. Natasha has talked about her own past of killing before, and a part of you is consoled at the idea she really is a lot like you. Her convincing might be slowly getting to you, as you’re tempted to up and leave with her. But a part of you still isn’t sold. The other side of you is still aiding the idea you deserve the worst after all the terror you’ve caused.

As you toss and turn between each option, it’s her next words that really make you think differently. “You don’t have to fight. If you come back to the compound, you don’t have to use your powers, you don’t have to avenge. I know this may be hard to believe, but I’m on your side.” She tells you. You pause, taking a deep breath while hoping Natasha knows what she’s signing up for.

“You’re on the side that destroys innocent cities? The side that uses their powers for exploitation?” You remark, the frustration from deciding what to do now lacing your words. The options that were once so black and white now seem so broad and confusing. Natasha shakes her head, leaning over the desk so her point is even clearer.

“No, I’m on the side that makes sure my family is safe.” Her statement makes you nearly tear up. The distance you put between yourself and the redhead seems to shrink. After all these years, all this destruction, Natasha still considers you family; a relationship you assumed was broken after the words ‘HYDRA’ joined your title.

“I’ll go with you.” You suddenly decide, the anxiety in your heart finding the right words before your mind can even finish comprehending. Natasha’s right, you’re alone here, and the best way to fix that is by going back to those who make you feel anything but. Besides, unless you want to end up in a high security cell for eternity, you don’t really have a choice.

“We have less than thirty minutes before an over-prepared team of agents comes to find you. If we’re leaving, we need to go now,” Natasha quickly jumps into action, extending her hand for you to take. Only hesitating a second, you accept it, leaving behind everything that you created for yourself here.

Maybe being the villain was the easier option, letting yourself accept all the corrupt titles others’ gave you. But at the end of the day, are you really a dangerous person? Beyond your superhuman abilities, are your intentions destructive? You can easily answer the latter. No.

You never meant to cause terror, you just thought it was the only path for yourself. When training with the Avengers, you saw how heroic they were, being so skilled and knowledgeable on their own powers. But you struggled, and thought all your mistakes were proof of needing to change sides.

So as you run out of the concrete arch of the HYDRA base, alarms blaring around you, the adrenaline coursing through your body makes you curious to finally draw the line. To define yourself as a human—not a weapon, who is capable of great things. Someone who isn’t out to destroy cities, but to use her dedication for a meaningful purpose. And even if the journey is tough, Natasha will be by your side through it all.

[dronebiscuitbat]

Oil is Thicker Then Blood (Part 26)

Warnings: For Those who may be uncomfortable with:

Non-Sexual Nudity

Non-Sexual Intimacy

They be robots, don't be weird about it.

“Uzi!” N was wrought with panic, he'd been worried in the couple of hours she'd been gone, feeling that something terrible would happen, something he wouldn't be able to stop.

And now, she was home again, V helping her stand at the doorway. Missing a whole limb.

“What happened?!” He yelped, moving forward so quickly he nearly shoved V over, taking his injured girlfriend into his arms, holding her lower back as he fussed over her, holding her at eye level.

V lifted an eyebrow, N was affectionate sure, but this seemed… more intimate than just N being worried over someone he cared about (even if she knew he was crushing on them).

“I uh, underestimated what we'd run into, I'm alright though. V seriously saved my ass.” Uzi responded with a small reassuring smile, although one rather pained. A wince passed through her again, her system warning her that her oil levels were low.

“Come in V.” He stepped out of V's way and carried Uzi over the counter, giving her a container of oil that she desperately chugged, it would normally take her a couple days to go through even one container but this one she finished within a couple of minutes.

V stepped into the living room, closing the door with her tail, her gaze drifted to the bedroom, as well as several trinkets that she was sure wasn't N's, a fake (maybe) human skull, rolled up sketches of plans and engineering designs, and small models of guns.

“Please… what happened?” She turned her attention to the kitchen counter, where Uzi was sitting, N hovering over her, his hands cupped over her face, moving singed hair out of her visor.

“Your moss thing was less moss, more eldritch furniture, it attacked us, latched on to me and started… melding with my leg. V cut off the tentacle but… it was still spreading up my leg. So…” She glanced over at V, implying the rest, N just leaned in further to her face, worry written so deeply in his eyelights V was concerned it might be permanent.

“Uzi…”

“I'm alright. I promise. My leg should regenerate soon.” Her hand connected with the one on her cheek as she subtlety nuzzled into it, blushing a little.

It then all clicked for V, the concern, the new stuff, the PDA.

They were freaking dating!

She didn't say anything immediately, although she turned away to give them privacy. She… honestly hadn't expected that, figuring N would be too nervous and Uzi too stubborn for either of them to end up confessing. Not that she hadn't noticed they both were crushing, she had seven working eyes after all.

She went over to the couch, crossing her arms and getting lost in her own thoughts.

N however, had V only at the back of his mind, most of it was dedicated entirely to Uzi, worry tightening over his core as he saw her entire bottom of her hoodie stained with her own oil.

“V did what she could to patch me up, I'm okay, see, I'm alive.” Uzi tipped his head back up to look at her, glancing over and seeing V wasn't looking at them anymore.

She kissed the hand that was rubbing circles into her cheek, making N's worry break into an embarrassed smile for a moment.

“I'm still going to look over the patch, and clean you up, okay?” Uzi only nodded, only to be wisked away into the master bathroom, N holding her beanie in one hand and clutching her tight in his other.

“W-wait? What?” She asked as he locked the door behind him. And placed her on the white countertop next to the kitchen sink, his hands were a little shaky, betraying his anxiety about the whole situation.

“Just let me take care of you, please?” He was almost pleading, a dusting of gold on his cheeks but otherwise looking intently worried.

“I can clean myself up.” Uzi mumbled, feeling all sorts of self-conscious.

“I know, but… I need to see that you're okay.” He pleaded, eyes hollow and stress lines down to the corner of his visor, he was clicking his hands together, a fidget to keep him steady.

“I- o-okay.”

“Thank you.” He breathed out in relief.

He stepped closer to her, giving her a small kiss on the forehead which caused her to flush before she felt his hand begin to fiddle with the zipper of her jacket, she tried not to flush more, gulping down the rising anxiety.

N wasn't faring much better, he wanted to check on her, make sure she was alright, but this was a step into territory he knew nothing about, much more intimate than forehead kisses and hugs.

Still he continued, he unzipped her hoodie, pulling it off and setting it beside her beanie, Uzi wouldn't dare look him in the eye, crossing her arms with a wary smile, was she seriously just going to let him do this? Yes, apparently.

He slowly moved her arms to her sides so he could pull off her undershirt, which was also stained with oil. It was his turn to gulp as his nerves caught up in his throat.

Her entire lower torso was still covered in her own oil, he could see where V had done tha best she could in cleaning what wasn't already covered by her clothing, but it was still a concerning amount.

He despite his best effort couldn't keep his eyes from drifting upward to the rest of her chassis, rolling over every groove and nick of past-pre solver injuries, dents and burns in the rubber of her midsection, and a scarred over gash that he'd created on the day they'd met. A pang of guilt passed over him.

Then to the covering of her core, the purple worker symbol glowing back at him, a part of him really wanted to touch it, to feel the thrumming core underneath-

“D-don’t stare…” She said softly, voice several tones of embarrassed and self-conscious, visor flushed with every shade of purple imaginable.

“Sorry Zi… it's just, you're beautiful.” He whispered, the same awkward, embarrassed tone laced in his voice as did hers.

“I look like every other worker you've ever seen N.” She replied, likely referencing how he'd acted before, he'd been dumb then, he wasn't going to be now.

“You don't.”

“Focus on the task…”

“Right.”

He dampened a rag and began what he originally set out to do, beginning on her intact leg that was still slightly stained, running up the rungs and cleaning dutifully.

His hands ceased shaking, with something that he could do instead of just something to stress over, he found his emotions much easier to control.

Uzi had gripped the counter and had vehemently decided not to look at him, she could barely believe she'd let him do this Had she lost that much oil?

He would never admit it to her, she would probably die of abject horror, but he was memorizing every inch of the surface he cleaned, being through yet gentle in his work, he wasn't sure if she would ever let him see her like this again, and he wanted to remember it.

After that was done, his hands traveled to the white of her lower torso, wringing out the now grey rag into the sink. He blushed when Uzi let out a muffled squeek, but ignored it, going back to rubbing the stains away until the blackened stains turned white again.

Uzi felt herself start to get overwhelmed with emotion, maybe it was the fact she had almost died and the subsequent ebbing of the artificial adrenaline that had been pumping through her system the last hour, but she started to get choked up.

N was treating her with such tenderness, not as if she was fragile, but like she mattered. V had done much of the same in her own way, despite the teasing she'd done with her earlier that day, she hadn't been certain she would actually save her.

N was still focused on his task, nerves subsiding entirely in favor of making certain Uzi was comfortable, at least until he noticed her body language shift, curling in on herself slightly.

“You okay?” He stood up, placing a hand on her shoulder, Uzi began to nod instinctually, but stopped herself.

No, she really wasn't. So she shook her head lightly.

“Do you want me to stop? I-is this too much?” He asked, looking deep into her eyelights for the answer to his question, he'd wanted to do this to make sure she was okay, to do something that would help even a little. But they had just gotten together; did this cross a line?

“No. It's okay, just ah… I just almost died. Post-almost death jitters.”

“You sure…?” He touched the side of her face in what seemed what was going to be a common interaction between them, he felt her sigh, leaning into his hand.

“Yeah.”

So he slowly went back to work, he was nearly finished, rubbing off the rest of the black that was staining her chassis.

“I love you, Uzi.” He said, no shame nor fear or nervous in his voice, looking up at her as if he was somehow peering into the depths of her programing.

Her words caught in her throat again, was this going to be a habit of his? Proclaiming his love in times where it would catch her the most off guard?

“I- I uh” She began to speak it back, to make up for last time, but yet again they seemed to lose their way to be spoken.

“You don't have to say it back, I just want you to know that.” He smiled, standing again, he washed the rag, looking more content with himself.

She didn't know why the words always got caught in her throat, because she did want to say them. She did love him, she really did, but trying to force the words out of her mouth seemed impossible.

He seemed to pick up on her internal conflict, and all he did was keep his smile.

“I know you do. It's okay.”

She blushed, then did more as she realized she was still very naked in front of him.

“I'm gonna remove the binding now, it's probably getting in the way for the new one.”

“Yeah, just be slow, p-please.”

He knelt back down once more, slowly pulling on the rough binding shoved into the socket of limb, Uzi jumped, a sudden input of pain making her hiss between her teeth.

In response, he took one of her hands and squeezed it, using the other to continue his work.

She took that hand almost eagerly, squeezing it back at she watched the ribbons of stained cloth make a pile on the floor, sometimes she would wince, and N would stop, rub calming circles into her hand until he was satisfied the pain had stopped, and then continue.

She felt the regeneration process begin before he was done, a stub of a limb forming to fill the hole before the rest of the limb followed, it wasn't exactly a painless process, but once it was done, she sighed, lifting her new leg and moving the servos.

Good as new, like she'd never lost it.

“There, is that better?” N was in front of her, body leaning into hers as his arms wrapped around her again, he rested his visor on hers, humming contently, holding her close.

“Mmhm.” She replied, the exhaustion following regenerating a new limb hitting her hard and fast, her eyelights drooped, and suddenly the warmth of N's core felt impossibly inviting.

“Tired?”

“Yeah.”

“Hold on biscuit, I got you.” Uzi felt herself blush at the pet name, N didn't seem to notice what had come out of his mouth, but she did, if it hadn't given her the worst case of butterflies ever, she might have been a little mad.

He kissed her forehead again before he strolled out quickly, glancing at V, who had entered sleep mode on the couch, light snoring and all.

He smiled softly, grabbing a light blanket that had been hanging over the side and tossing it over her, before rushing into the bedroom to dig out Uzi's pajamas.

He dug out a black shirt with a skull on it, and (after quickly checking on Tera, who was blessedly still asleep.) He rushed back to the bathroom, eyes landing on Uzi, he smiled and lifted the shirt, which she slowly snatched and pulled over her head lazily.

And with that, she was scooped up again and taken off to bed, of which she didn't even have the chance to complain about; she was already in sleep mode by the time N pulled a blanket over them.

Next ->

[sentientcave]

Dogs Will Hunt (Slasher AU)

Honey It's Alright - Part 1

Read on AO3

Dark Fic! Please mind the warnings

Contains: Stalking, Allusion to past kidnapping, Canon-typical violence, Canon-atypical violence, dub con touching, implied dub con/non con, threats of death and violence, just general bad vibes, playing with my OCs like dolls and putting them in situations. Morgan is from Sparrow, and Kitty is from Wildflowers and Honey. This is not canon to their stories at all.

~7,500 words - MDNI

For the first time in ages, Morgan let herself relax, sitting at the kitchen table, slotting the pieces of her rifle back together, the comforting smell of gun grease heavy in the humid summer air. The windows were open to the night, and there was nothing but crickets out there, a shrill chorus in the background, the occasional chirping frog or whistling bird joining the twilight chorus.

She'd given John the slip-- If he was going to find her he would have by now. It had been months since she escaped his cellar (she'd been down there for weeks because of bad behaviour, and he'd gone hunting, leaving her alone with Soap and an opportunity), she'd dug the tracker out of her skin in Greece, zig-zagged across the continent leaving clues for him to chase down, and then stowed away on a shipping container headed to the states. She'd walked most of the way from the coast to her little house in Montana, where an identity totally removed from her old life waited for her. She was lucky she'd set that up as a fail-safe years ago. She only had three identities that maintained themselves so neatly, and Sarah and Blaire were both a little to close to John's house in Northern England to be comfortable. So she was Rebecca Carter now.

And it was nice. So much like home, and no one looked at her weird for carrying a rifle in the backseat of her truck. She found work when she got tired of pacing the cabin with nothing to do, helping repair a neighbour's tractor, and then a few cars, until everyone in town knew she was pretty handy with anything with an engine. It made her nervous, being so known, but there was nothing for it in a small town. Would’ve been more notable if she never spoke to anyone.

The crunch of gravel coming up the long lonely track that ended at her cabin set her heart hammering, the moment of relaxation gone, but she tried to calm herself down again when she peeked out the window, rifle at the ready, and saw that it was just Kitty driving up in her beat up silver Buick.

"Hey, Kit," she called out, stepping onto the porch, hiding her anxiety behind a big smile. "Car trouble?" The car was making a very unhappy grinding sound that stopped when the car did, although the engine still didn’t sound too healthy. Poor Kitty was running patch to patch with that stupid car, but Morgan was happy to help her out. Kitty was the sort of girl that had sorely needed a friend, and she’d attached herself to Morgan pretty quickly, despite her efforts to stay aloof.

She was too soft. Friends were liabilities these days, nothing but trouble. Another avenue for John to find her, if he was even still looking. He’d probably given up when the trail went cold. Even a bloodhound like him couldn’t search forever.

"Yeah! Could you take a look?" Kitty cut the engine and popped the hood, an apologetic look on her face as she climbed out of the driver's seat. "Sorry it's so late, I just got off my shift."

"Hey, no sweat honey. You know I'm never up to all that much."

Kitty was a pretty little thing, a hand-span shorter than Morgan, small boned like a bird, all soft curves and wide doe-like eyes peering out of her round face. Full of anxious energy most of the time, and especially now, nerves stretched thin after a long shift of avoiding grasping hands and smiling wide through it all. She bounced on her toes as Morgan leaned over the engine, watching. "Yeah. Owen said he asked you out. Why'd you say no?"

"Don't like him that much," Morgan said, shrugging. "Had my fill of men."

Kitty bit her lip, folding her hands behind her back. "Forever?" she asked.

Morgan braced her arms on the car, looking over. "Why do I feel like there's an ask attached to that question?"

"Well. Mason asked me out. He's got a friend workin' at the depot, Jack— I actually don’t know his last name— and he'd like to turn it into a double date. Think he knows I won't be so twitchy if you're there with me."

"When's this?"

"Tomorrow night, if you're free. Figured you would be, so I already said yes, but I can ask Mason not to bring his buddy if you can't. No pressure. Lord knows I owe you plenty already, can't ask for a favour."

"You don't owe me shit, Kitty. We're friends."

“Don’t have a lot of friends who do as much for me as you do,” Kitty said, her expression turning sheepish. “You really don’t have to say yes. Just figured you might want to get out, meet somebody. It’s not good for a person to spend as much time alone as you do.”

“Already know everyone I’d like to. But I’ll come along, if you want me too. Promise to be nice and everything.”

Kitty laughed. “Everyone knows your bark is worse than your bite by now, Beck. It’ll be fun. Maybe Jack’ll turn out to be the one. Wouldn’t that be nice?”

Morgan grunted noncommittally. “Probably won’t be. Think it’s one of the wheel bearings. Is the car shaking when you drive?”

Kitty nodded. “Yeah. Is that bad?”

“Well it’s not good. Let me get underneath and check it out. The jack’s in my truck.” Morgan went inside to grab her keys and came back out, frowning. Kitty had already opened up the back door of the truck for her.

“Looks like you left it open,” she said. “I don’t even know why you bother to lock it, all the way out here.”

“I’m not keen on the idea of someone getting into my shit.” Morgan gently moved Kitty to the side and leaned in to grab the box of emergency supplies from under the back seat, her nose wrinkling. The cab smelled wrong, like tobacco smoke and cedar— Like John.

Dread settled into her stomach like lead. He’d found her. He’d been in her truck, probably been in her house— She dropped the box back in and scanned the trees surrounding the cabin, hunting for anything out of the ordinary.

“What’s the matter?” Kitty asked. “You’re all pale.”

“My ex has been here. He’s a sick fuck, Kit. I need to get out of town.” She looked at Kitty, the lead in her belly turning molten, hot with guilt and anger. What if she’d put Kitty in danger too? It was a mistake to have friends. A mistake to think John wouldn’t track her down. She should have kept moving, shouldn’t have let her guard down, should have just turned around somewhere and waited for him to catch up and killed him.

Her stomach churned. What if he’d been following her the whole time? What if he’d been in town as long as she had? “Kit, did you meet that Jack guy? He ever been to the diner?”

Kit nodded, her eyes wide as saucers. “Y-yeah, he’s a regular. Beck, you’re really freaking me out.”

“What’s he look like?”

“Um. Big. Handsome. Blue eyes, beard, a smile that’s all in his eyes. Um. He’s got a mole, or a freckle on his nose. He’s really nice though, Beck, he always tips well, and he’s never pawed at me.” Kitty scrubbed her hands on the polyester skirt of her uniform nervously. “And he’s been here almost as long as you have. And he’s English,” she added, as if that made it impossible for him to be John, rather than the nail in Morgan’s proverbial coffin.

Morgan swallowed acid. He’d been here for months, watching her let her guard down slowly, laughing at her, watching her get close to Kitty. “Fuck. That’s him.” Morgan grabbed Kitty’s hand and pulled her into the house. She locked the front door and closed the kitchen window. “Stay here a sec. I have to sweep the house.”

“Sweep?” Kitty asked blankly. “But…” She trailed off when she saw Morgan pick up the rifle. “Oh.”

Morgan checked all the rooms quickly, closing windows as she went, hunting for any sign of John. He wasn’t there, thank fucking god. She returned to the kitchen. “Kit, I’m leaving town tonight. I think you should come with me. If John’s been here this long, he might hurt you to get back at me. I don’t want that to happen.” She cupped Kitty’s face, hands trembling. “He’ll know how much I care about you.”

Kitty’s breath hitched, big brown eyes flicking between Morgan’s, like she was hunting for a sign it was a joke, or a lie. “You want me to come with you?”

“Please. I can’t let him hurt you, Kit. I’m going to pack a bag. You think about it. I can’t promise that you’ll be safer with me, but I can promise I’ll do everything I can to keep you alive.”

Kitty swallowed. “I’ll come with you,” she whispered. “Can— Can I get my things?”

“Yeah. Hopefully he thinks we’re still gonna show up for that date. Which’ll give us a good head start. We’ll drop by your apartment on the way out of town.” Morgan marched back to her room, Kitty close on her heels, and threw things into a bag, prioritizing dark, basic clothes and essentials. She pulled her shoulder harness on over her t-shirt and took her pistols from their hiding spots, checking both for tampering before sliding them into the holsters under her arms. She threw an oversized denim jacket on over top and zipped up the bag. “Let’s go.”

Kitty shook from nerves, but held herself together admirably, following Morgan out to the truck and sitting in the passenger seat as Morgan rifled through everything, searching for the tracker John had most certainly planted in the vehicle. Probably in anticipation of her fleeing their “date” the next day.

She found two, one tucked into the curling pages of the manual in the glovebox, and a magnetic one stuck under the back bumper. She stuck that one to Kitty’s car, and tossed the other one underneath it. Then she hopped into the driver’s seat and drove away from the place that had been home for months now, her heart twisting viciously in her chest.

In an instant, Becca became a stranger.

Beck was unshakable, cool and calm, detached. And then she wasn’t.

That someone could frighten her this much… It terrified Kitty. Made her sick to think that a favourite regular— a friend— was someone that would hurt Beck— That would hurt her to get at Beck. That she’d been smiling at him all this time, won over by the accent and the charm, the genuine interest in her sad little life. Those sincere blue eyes. He’d seemed so nice.

She held onto the corner of Becca’s jacket as she checked for intruders in Kitty’s apartment, and then packed a bag as quickly as she could, following Beck’s directions to pack practical clothes, to keep things light. That was easy. There wasn’t all that much in the place she cared about. The only sentimental items she took were the little photo album from her childhood and her jewellery box. She could sell things, if they needed the money. She wasn’t really sure what life on the run would entail. Wasn’t sure if she was up for it.

But she’d try. Better to try, and stay close to Beck. She’d said she’d protect her, and Kitty believed it.

They didn’t say much until they hit the highway, lights from the cars on the other side of the grass median zipping past, illuminating Becca’s face in flashes. She looked grim, serious as a soldier, determined. It was almost a surprise to hear her speak after so long.

“I’m sorry this happened, Kitty. I should have known to stay away from you. I was selfish, and I put you in danger.”

“Selfish?” Kitty echoed, guilt pooling in her guts. “You’re the furthest thing from selfish! Always doin’ things for other folks— Doin’ things for me that no one else would. You’ve been a better friend than anyone in that whole rotten town.”

“You just lost everything because of me,” Becca said.

“I’d do it again!” Kitty declared. She felt bold, unmoored, nothing to lose anymore. “I’d rather have you than anything I left behind.”

Becca’s hand curled around hers, resting on her leg. Kitty’s heart skipped several beats. “I just hope I haven’t made things worse for you. I won’t let him hurt you, I swear. But if— If I ever tell you to run, I want you to run, and don’t look back. If he catches me— Well. It won’t be good. I don’t know what he’ll do to me. I don’t want him to do it to you.”

Kitty swallowed hard. “Who— Who is he?”

“John Price. He’s a killer. We met at a bar near my hometown about two years ago. Northern Ontario. He was nice enough. Handsome, charming. Drugged me. Woke up in the middle of the woods, just me and him. Said he’d give me a half hour head start. He likes the chase. Likes to hunt.” Her face twisted with anger at the memory, but her voice was nearly robotic as she recounted it, as thought she’d locked away all the emotion to keep it from overwhelming her. “I got away. Was more familiar with the area, better than he thought I’d be at running and navigating through the woods. My parents used to have me run— Well, it doesn’t matter. It took me a week to get home. Had to hunt with my boot knife if I wanted to eat, couldn’t stop for long anywhere. It was exhausting. I guess he thought so too, because he gave up the chase, and ambushed me at home. Wasn’t careful enough. I’m usually so cautious, but I was too tired.”

Kitty squeezed her hand lightly. “I’m sorry, Beck.”

“It’s Morgan.”

“Huh?”

“Morgan’s my actual name. Figure you should know it.”

“Oh.” That stood to reason, didn’t it? She wouldn’t have been using her real name if she was hiding out. “What— What did he do to you?”

“Well, he didn’t kill me. I guess he decided I was worth keeping. That I was more fun alive than dead. He took me home with him. Decided he wanted to play house. It was play along or get locked in the cellar for days or weeks. Sometimes he wouldn’t turn the lights on and I’d just have to sit there in the dark, all alone until he came for me. It could have been worse more often, but it was usually the cellar. He didn’t want to hurt me, he wanted to break me.”

Kitty swallowed nervously. "He sounds awful. I can't believe he sat in my diner and acted so normal when he's… like that."

"Well that's the thing about John. When he's getting his way? He's downright pleasant. Didn't get nasty until I tried to run, or broke the rules, or failed a task on purpose. If I played housewife right he was… loving, almost. Some bastardized version of that. Indulgent. It was fucked up." Beck-- No, Morgan's other hand gripped the steering wheel tight. "I hate him. I've tried to kill him a hundred times by now. He just keeps beating me."

She sounded so defeated. Angry and scared. It felt so strange to see her scared, when she was usually so together, so much stronger than anyone else Kitty knew.

They didn't stop until dawn, to fill the truck with fuel and for Morgan to get a shit gas station coffee. Kitty had fallen asleep at some point. Morgan hadn't let her drive when she’d offered, and she looked like she hadn’t slept in weeks, not just one night. The dark circles under her eyes were purple and puffy, but she shook her head again when Kitty offered to drive.

"I can go a little while longer. You get some more sleep."

"B-- Morgan. You've been driving all night. Let me help. You'll want to be sharp if he catches up to us." Kitty reached out and gently tugged the keys out of Morgan's hand. "We'll be better off if we take care of each other. It's not all on you."

Morgan relented. "Yeah. You wake me up if you see anything concerning. Stay on major roads, but just drive anywhere. If he’s following, we can lose him in the mountains for a day or two.” She sighed and leaned back in the seat while Kitty adjusted the one on the driver's side. "I'm sorry, Kit. This is so fucked."

"It's okay." Kitty steered the truck back onto the highway. "Not your fault."

"Yeah it is," Morgan grumbled, closing her eyes. "Maybe I shoulda stayed and fought. I don't know. Just hate that I've ruined your life."

“Didn’t have much of one to ruin. It’s okay.”

“It’s not.” Morgan turned toward the window with a sigh, cushioning her head from the glass with the palm of her hand.

In the silence, Kitty had nothing to do but think. About how little she really knew about Morgan, about how much she had misjudged Jack— Or John, really. She felt pretty stupid for thinking— for saying anything about her to him. Mistakes on mistakes.

She still trusted Morgan. She’d tried to be distant at the beginning of their friendship, tried to keep Kitty away. But Kitty had been so eager to make a new friend that she’d ignored all those attempts at deflection and inserted herself into Morgan’s life anyway. When she’d said that Kitty didn’t want shit to do with her, this was what she meant.

They spent three days like that. Morgan seemed to have no problem driving twenty hours straight, and wouldn’t let Kitty drive for more than four hours at a time. She was tense, wound tight, jumpy every time they had to stop for gas. She relaxed just a hair on the fourth night, and started driving more purposefully, taking them North through the mountains. She seemed to know exactly where they were, even though it was all windy mountain roads and forests, broken up by the occasional late.

Morgan cursed when they came to a road closure, forced to go around and detour from her planned route, but it didn’t really seem to slow her down any. They stopped at a gas station in some tiny mountain town early in the morning. Kitty was surprised to see Canadian flags flying from some of the houses they passed. Had they gone over a border while she was sleeping? Morgan parked off to the side so they could use the washroom and buy a handful of snacks and a map in case there were any more holdups.

Morgan stopped short, eyes turning sharp. A car had parked beside the truck, clearly too close for her comfort.

Kitty eyed the two men warily as they stood outside their car, smoking. She’d have to squeeze past the bigger fellow to get into the passenger seat again. Morgan spotted that too, and flashed them big smiles. “Any chance you boys are locals?” she asked, voice pitched higher, the slightest southern drawl colouring her voice. How did she become someone else so easily? “We got a bit turned around with that road closure, was wondering if you knew any shortcuts to Vancouver.” She unfolded the map on the hood of their car without waiting for an answer. Predictably, both of the men stepped in close on either side of her, not so subtly checking out her ass.

“Not locals, m’afraid,” the big one said. “But funny enough, that’s where we’re ‘eaded too.”

“Real tricky findin’ places to stop through here.” The other one was big too, but not as big, a baseball cap with the union jack set tilted back on his head and a wide, bright white smile on his face. He leaned on the hood of their car, his fingertips a little too close to Morgan’s hand. “Nearly went through all our cigs. Wouldn’t’ve been pretty’f we ran out before we got here. Si’s a real bear without his nicotine.”

Kitty took the opportunity to slip past to the passenger door, trying to calm her nerves. Just because they were English didn’t mean they had anything to do with John. Morgan folded her map back up, still smiling.

“Thought y’wanted ‘elp gettin’ there,” Si said, tilting his head to the side.

Morgan just tapped her now folded map against his chest playfully. “If you’re not locals, you’re not gonna know any shortcuts are you? You’ll just get me lost!”

“Might be fun, gettin’ a bit lost with us,” baseball hat said. Kitty didn’t much like the edge to his smile. But maybe she was just imagining it.

Morgan laughed. “You ever been lost in the mountains before, sugar? Wouldn’t recommend it. Ain’t that many roads that go anywhere worth goin’.” She bounced back a step, and kicked at loose bit of gravel. “But maybe we’ll see you in the city. We’re headed to the beach. Water’ll be cold, but it’s supposed to be pretty nice. Bet you’d both look pretty good with your shirts off.” She winked at baseball hat and gave them a little wave before circling back around to the drivers side and starting up the truck.

She peeled out of the parking lot, her smile falling away. “Pretty sure those are John’s boys. They’re not gonna be happy when they realize I dropped spikes in front of their tires.”

Kitty blinked. “You— Is that what you were doing?”

“That, and making sure the big guy didn’t grab you or slip a tracker on you. Once we get some distance out, I’ll have to re-check the outside of the truck too.”

Kitty let out a shaky breath. “How do you live like this?” she asked. “How do you know what to do, what to check?”

Morgan shrugged. “You get used to it.”

Kitty wasn’t sure how someone ever could.

After that, Morgan turned grim again, pushing to cover ground fast. The brush with those men had scared her too. She’d been driving all night, but she didn’t stop until the mountains were a ways behind them, and the countryside had turned flat, fields on either side of them filled with waving grasses and the occasional farm. Kitty insisted on taking over at their next stop. Morgan looked wrecked, the days of driving and poor sleep catching up with her. Kitty didn’t feel much better, but at least she’d gotten more rest.

"Where are we going?" she asked once they were on their way again.

"I know a place we can get a plane. Then I figure South America? Lots of places to disappear there." Morgan yawned, glancing in the mirror surreptitiously, as though she expected to see danger right on their tail. “Basically just drive straight down this highway. Not a lot of alternative routes around here. Wake me up in three hours, that’s about when we need to make a couple turns.”

Traffic slowed down to a crawl after two, so she tapped Morgan’s shoulder gently. “Sorry,” she said quietly. “I think the road’s closed up ahead.”

“Shit. No getting around it.” Morgan turned on the radio and flicked through stations until she found one that came in clear. “They’ll give a traffic update in a bit,” she said, blinking sleep out of her eyes. She came around fast, like she was used to waking up and moving quick. “We still inching forward every few minutes?”

Kitty nodded.

“They’ve prob’ly cleared a lane, be feeding folks through one side at a time. S’gonna suck, probably add three or four hours to the drive.”

“It’ll give you more time to sleep,” Kitty said.

They waited for the traffic report, grimacing at the details of it. Truck driver asleep at the wheel, veered into oncoming traffic and took out three cars. Only the truck driver and his passenger survived.

“Fuck, that’s a mess,” Morgan said grimly. “They need to regulate the industry better. That shit happens too often. Lots of drivers shouldn’t have a license, and the whole industry is overworked and pushed to get deliveries done in too short a time. S’fucked.”

Diplomatically, Kitty didn’t mention the fact that Morgan had been driving for sixteen hours straight herself. “There’s really no way around?”

“Might be, but that map I bought ended a good eighty kilometres ago. We’d better stay on this road or I’ll get us lost.” Morgan sighed. “We’re gonna lose our head start at this rate.”

“Already? He doesn’t know where we’re going, does he?”

“Doubt it. But I have to act like he’s right on my tail, because he usually is.” Morgan leaned her head back against the headrest with a sigh. “Let me get another hour of sleep, keep checking your mirrors, looking around. You see anything the slightest bit funny, wake me up again.”

Kitty nodded. “I will. Get some rest, Morgan.”

“What the fuck do you mean you rented out my plane?” Morgan snarled, resisting the urge to strangle the airfield manager, but only barely.

The portly, balding man with the name tag that said Tim Kent held his clipboard up defensively. “Look, we haven’t heard anything from you in over two years—”

“You still getting paid?”

“Well, y-yes,” Tim said nervously.

“Then why the fuck would you think that anything had changed?”

“Well, I— I um—”

“Forget it,” she snapped, holding up a hand. It was greed, and thinking he could get away with double dipping. She didn’t need him to say it. “When’s it back?”

“Tomorrow morning,” he said. “We’ll have it ready for you as soon as it comes back. There’s a motel, just down the highway— I know the owner, can get him to comp you a room, Ms. Winters.”

If it were just her, she'd sleep in the truck, with the doors locked and the keys in the ignition, ready to drive off at a moments notice. But Kitty-- Kitty needed a moment to collect herself, needed to shower, and sleep in a bed, and regroup. If Morgan had to sleep on the floor in front of the door with her rifle in her lap to make that happen, so be it.

"Yeah. Alright." It was against every instinct for survival she had. She knew that John wasn't far behind, if his boys had been that close. If they even were his boys. Maybe she'd fucked up the day of some totally innocent Brits on holiday.

It didn't matter. She'd just kill John if she saw him. Get it over with. No more fucking around. She couldn’t run forever. Kitty certainly couldn’t. It hadn’t even been a week, and Kitty was already nervous and stressed, on the verge of tears since their run in with the boys at the gas station. Morgan had been living like this periodically even before John.

She got the information for the motel, and about the two women who had rented the plane (two American women, which was a relief. Nothing to do with John, just an unfortunate coincidence), and headed back to the truck. Kitty was crying, and trying valiantly to pretend she wasn’t.

Morgan slid into her seat with a sigh. “Do you want to go home, Kit? I can take you back. I think that’s pretty much the only thing that would surprise him, at this point. I feel like he’s been a step ahead this whole time. Sent me running in a blind panic so he could set an ambush. I’m worried I’ve put you in more danger by asking you to come with me.”

Kitty shook her head furiously. “No! I want to stay with you. I don’t care if it’s dangerous.” She leaned across the middle seat and gripped the collar of Morgan’s jacket, pulling them together for a kiss.

Morgan tensed for a moment, surprise freezing her in place for a long moment. Suddenly, things made a lot more sense.

Kitty retreated quickly. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. We can just forget it, I won’t do it again, I—” She halted mid sentence when Morgan reached out and brushed away the tears welling in her eyes again.

“Don’t be sorry. C’mere.” She gently held Kitty’s face and pressed a tentative kiss to her lips in return, tasting salt, humming when Kitty responded enthusiastically, lips parted and hands braced against Morgan’s thigh so she could leverage herself closer. For a minute, Morgan let herself forget that they were parked out in the open, that John was bound to catch up with them sooner rather than later, that they were far from safe, and that it was far from wise. She wanted to lose herself in that moment.

But good sense wouldn’t let her stay there for too long. “Come on. Lets go get something proper to eat. We’re stuck here till the morning. We’ll just have to keep an eye out.”

Morgan drove well out of the way to find a diner to eat dinner at, and watched the door the whole time, barely tasting her food. Kitty, at least, looked a little more settled with a proper meal in her, relaxing slightly even while Morgan twitched at every new patron coming through the door.

"What was he like when he wasn't— I mean— Was it all bad?"

Kitty's question surprised Morgan out of her vigilance, splitting her focus down the middle. It took a moment to figure out a response to that. “I sucked at following his rules. Fought him on everything. So I spent a lot more time getting punished than I did anything else.” She picked up a cold fry off her plate and dipped it in ketchup. “He wanted me to like him. I’m sure he could have been worse.”

Kitty nodded slowly. "What was he like when you did follow the rules?"

"A creep. Making me wear short little dresses without panties while I did housework, if he let me wear clothes at all. Letting me sleep in bed so he could feel me up. Asking if I was done being stubborn or if I was ready to ask for his cock. Fucking pervert." She tossed the fry into her mouth. "It was some kind of fucking game to him. He wanted me to beg for it."

"Oh," Kitty said in a small voice.

"I'm trying to spare you the details, Kit. He's got some ugly fucking demons in him, and it'll be better if we get far away."

"Y-yeah. Of course."

"You sure you don't want me turning the truck around? Could get you back home before—"

"No!" Kitty said quickly. "I'll stay. Just— um. Why didn't you go to the police?"

"I did. He had connections. They fucking delivered me back to him." She slumped back into her seat. “Let’s get out of here. Not safe to stay in one place too long. We’re risking enough with a motel stay.”

Not that she had any intention of staying at the one that Tim had suggested. It was just a red herring, something to hopefully draw attention if Tim was compromised while she found somewhere to stay an hour or two’s drive away.

She finally decided on one as the sun started setting, pulling into a half empty gravel lot. The place was dated, but that was fine. It didn’t need to be perfect. Just needed a door that locked and a bed with clean sheets.

The front desk was run by a bored looking girl in her late teens. She snapped her gum while she booked Morgan in on the ancient computer. She didn’t ask any questions, and she let Morgan pay cash, which was all she cared about.

She checked the room, paranoia winning over the more rational thought that she hadn’t known where they were staying until they got there, so John couldn’t have possibly set a trap for her, and Kitty hopped into the shower while Morgan flipped on the tv and scanned through channels listlessly.

— For a limited time only—

*— A community in chaos to— *

— Refreshing—

Wait. She flicked back to the news channel. A woman with a microphone standing in front of the smoking remains of a building, the unscathed sign at the edge of the parking lot reading Rosemary’s Diner. Red and blue flashing lights haloed her blonde hair, firefighters and police securing the area against the gathering crowd. “Crews are still recovering bodies from the ashes of this beloved local establishment. It is unclear what happened, or why none of the patrons were able to escape before the fire engulfed the building, but—”

Morgan’s head went fuzzy, her ears ringing as the noise from the tv scrambled as her brain tried to make sense of it. No on could escape because they were already dead. She’d killed them by walking into the place. This was her fault.

“Um, Morgan,” Kitty called from the bathroom. “There’s no towels.”

Morgan grimaced. She didn’t want them to separate for an instant. “I’ll go to the front desk and get some. Keep that door locked.”

The night time air was quiet and cool. She locked the door behind her— The place was so old that it had keys rather than cards. She wasn’t sure if that was a comfort or a liability. She was too rattled to think it over.

This shouldn’t have shaken her so much. She knew who John was. She knew how dangerous, how depraved he was. It just felt so… Unnecessary. Maybe it was just a message to her. That everywhere she went she’d endanger innocent people.

Morgan pushed the door open and walked into the front office of the motel, blinking in the bright fluorescent lights, frowning at the lack of sound. Hadn’t there been a bell over the door? The bored looking teen who had been there earlier was nowhere to be seen, and the scent of blood in the air hit her as she breathed in, thick, coppery, cloying. There was the bell, lying on the floor next to an expanding pool of red trickling out from behind the desk. This had just happened. Which meant--

"Hi, bonnie."

Morgan whirled around to face Soap, grimacing. He was the only one of John’s boys she'd met before, and she wished she hadn't. He’d been babysitting her when she’d escaped. He’d be eager to hand her back over to John and gain forgiveness for losing her in the first place. He wiped the bloody blade of his knife off on his shirt, blue eyes fixed on her, teeth bared in a feral sort of grin.

She grabbed the computer monitor off the desk and threw it at him, grabbing out a gun. Someone behind her grabbed her hand and yanked her hand up, sending her shot wild, shattering the window rather than blowing through Soap’s head like she intended. She yelped when another hand grabbed her ponytail and yanked her head backwards.

“Hey there, sugar.” That was one of the men from the mountain town gas station, the baseball hat one, if the sliver of blue in the upper periphery was any indication. Gaz, probably. He didn’t feel like a Ghost. “Why don’t you drop that gun?”

Morgan grabbed for her other gun, only just clearing the holster by the time Soap was on her, pinning her arm to her chest and leaning close, so that she was pressed tightly between their bodies.

Soap traced his thumb down her throat, fingers curled around her neck like he was dreaming of throttling the life out of her. He probably was. “No’ verrah sportin’ of ye, Morgan. Bringin’ guns to a knife fight.”

“You brought a friend, seems fair to me.”

“Ye would. Tricky little thing. Dinnae ken what Price sees in ye.”

“No?” Gaz pried the gun out of her hand and stowed it somewhere, his now freed hand coming around to cup her breast, lips trailing over her ear. “I can see a few things that he’d like.”

“Weel. There is tha’.”

Morgan kneed him hard, nailing him right above the knee. The angle wasn’t good for generating as much power as she would have liked, but it was effective enough.

He swore and yanked the other gun out of her hand, jamming it up under her chin. “Should jest kill ye now,” he growled. “Yer nothin’ but trouble.”

“You’re just upset because I lied about wanting to play with you,” she taunted. He’d let her out of the cage in the cellar, and wound up locked in there himself. “How long were you stuck in there, Soap? Did John let you out when he got home, or did he leave you in there a little longer to make sure puppy learned his lesson?”

“Mouthy for a brat with a gun to her head,” Gaz said, yanking on her hair again. “Should be beggin’ for forgiveness.”

“Pull the fucking trigger, you coward,” Morgan spat. “I’m not going to beg for my life. Just fucking kill me. Should be easy. You killed all those people at the diner.” She carefully reached for the knife on Soap’s belt, doing her best not to move too much. So long as they were paying more attention to her mouth, she could get it. “Fucking losers, picking off a bunch of seniors. You lose your nerve when you’ve got a fair fight on your hands? Can’t even take me without backup, huh Soap?”

His hold on her other wrist tightened, enough to make her bones creak. She tried not to grimace, but he saw the wince in her eyes, satisfaction flitting through his baby-blues. “Price said one piece, but he didna say I couldnae break a few fingers.”

“Soap,” Gaz said warningly. “Come on. Let’s just get her out of here.”

Soap lowered the gun. Morgan ripped the knife off his belt and stabbed it into Gaz’s leg, gripping tight so she wouldn’t lose it when he jerked back, letting go of her hair in surprise.

“Shit, get back here you little—” Gaz tried to grab her again, so she turned and slashed at him, cutting a thin slice through his shirt.

Soap grabbed her from behind, so she let him take her weight as she kicked Gaz hard in the gut, knocking all the air out of him. Morgan smashed her head back into Soap’s face as she lowered her legs, only stumbling a little when he let go to cradle his nose, blood pouring from between his fingers. She grabbed his shoulders and kneed him hard in the groin for good measure, shoving him to the ground.

She ran outside. The air reeked of gasoline, the signature cover for their sins. They'd burn the place down on the way out. She ran back to the room. The door was open, hanging off it's hinges, the darkness beyond yawning like an open mouth.

"Kitty?" she called out, stepping inside. She already knew she wouldn't be there. Or if she was…

Only silence. Kitty's bag was gone off the bed, but hers was still there. She grabbed it, nearly sobbing when she found it open, her rifle gone. No guns, no Kitty, just her and a couple of flimsy knives against John and his dogs.

"Lookin' for this, honey?" John melted out of the shadows by the door. It should have been impossible for a man as big as him to be so quiet, so invisible. He held her rifle loosely in his big hands, not even bothering to point it at her. He was entirely at ease, shoulders relaxed, head tipped slightly to the side as he looked at her, eyes glittering in the low light.

Morgan gripped her stolen knife tighter. "Where's Kitty?"

“Ghost has her. Put the knife down, sweetheart. Somethin’ happens to me, he’s gonna snap her pretty neck. Be easy too, little thing like her.” He took a step forward. “It’s time to come home. Nothing left for you out here.”

Morgan backed up a step. He was between her and the door. There were no other exits. Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. He had her cornered, defenceless, beaten again.

“Come on,” he said, holding out one hand, taking another slow step, like she was a wild animal he was trying to coax into domestication. That was probably how he saw her. “We don’t need to fight anymore, do we? I’ve missed you.”

“Have you?” she asked, acid roiling in her belly. “You were there that whole time— Six months! You knew! Why didn’t you just— Why’d you let me think I’d gotten away?”

Another step. “I was going to come get you early on, but I overheard Kitty talkin’ to one of the other girls at the diner about you. How you’d helped her fix her car up, how sweet you were, how smart, how strong. Poor girl was half in love with you before you’d been there a month. And I thought to myself, maybe that’s what a wild thing like you needs. A good girl to show you how to behave.”

He’d let her get close to Kitty just so he could use the poor girl against her. She’d tried to keep Kitty away, but she just kept coming back. A nudge from a well meaning regular might have convinced Kitty to ignore Morgan’s prickles, and that string of car troubles… Easily engineered by someone who knew enough about engines to make it look like it wasn’t sabotage. She’d been so so stupid. Should have just collected what she needed and moved on when she first got to Montana.

John tossed the gun onto the bed to free up his other hand as he moved past it. Morgan wondered if she could get past him, grab the gun, kill him, but—

“You ready to go, boss?” Gaz asked, his shadow filling the doorway.

John turned, carelessly turning his back on Morgan for a moment. She could jam her knife into his neck, grab the gun before John hit the ground, shoot Gaz— But Soap and Ghost were still out there somewhere, and they could hurt Kitty. Without John holding Soap’s leash, the maniac would do a lot worse than just kill them too.

“We’ll be along in a moment. Take her things.” He nodded toward the bed, then chuckled as Gaz limped over. One of his pant legs was dark with blood, a strip of fabric tied around where she’d stabbed him to put some pressure on the wound. “She got you, huh?”

“Got Soap too. Broke his nose.”

John shook his head. “Told you not to underestimate her.”

Gaz shouldered the bag and picked up the rifle. “You’re the one with your back turned to her.”

“She knows better than to try it. Isn’t that right? You’re ready to be good, aren’t you?” He turned back toward Morgan, a smug smile tugging on his lips. “You can start by giving me the knife, princess.”

She stared at his open palm, extended trustingly toward her, like he knew she wouldn’t bite back now. She hated him. Wanted nothing more than sink the blade into his hand, into any soft bit of skin she could reach. She wanted to be free of him more than she wanted to continue breathing.

But they had Kitty.

It felt like driving the final nail into her own coffin, sealing her fate, but she she dropped the knife into his hand, shaking with rage. “I hate you,” she hissed, the scratchy whisper all she could force out from a locked up throat.

He tucked the knife into his belt and closed the remaining space between them, tipping her face up so she couldn’t avoid those piercing blue eyes. “Oh sweetheart, you know that’s not true. If you’ll just be good, we can be happy. You just have to stop fighting me, hm? For Kitty’s sake.”

“Just— Just let her go. Please. I’ll be good.”

“Of course you will.” He thumbed across her cheek, wiping away tears she was desperately trying not to shed. “But I’m keeping you both.” He kissed her forehead, moustache prickling against her skin, and released her.

Morgan stood where she was for a long moment, feet rooted to the faded, stained motel carpet, as John walked away. Usually, he’d cuff her and cart her off, growling admonishments all the way home.

He looked back from the doorway, realizing that she wasn’t following. And of course, he wanted her to come of her own accord, to bow her head and admit defeat and follow him like a dog. He wanted her to choose to be with him.

“Come on, pet. It’s time to go home.”

Haltingly, she willed her feet to move, and she followed him.

Image Credit - Dividers by @/CafeKitsune

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Please mind the warnings on each of the fics above, the warnings and intensities do vary a lot!

Thanks for Reading!

[poughkeepsies]

when you're gone, i come undone

Buck’s never been religious, and he sure as hell wasn’t raised with the brand of catholicism that seems to plague Bobby and Eddie’s every step, but he thinks he can understand why Bobby likes his rosary beads so much. At the very least it would give him something to do with his hands while he sits vigil at Bobby’s side, way past the time visitors who aren’t on a first-name basis with half of the hospital staff would be allowed. 

The others had left hours ago, some with kids who needed taking care of and others anticipating early shifts the next day, promising to take over from him as soon as visiting hours started. There was no shortage of people who wanted to be the one to keep watch over Bobby, but the night shift would’ve usually fallen to Athena, if she wasn’t recovering in her own room and allowed more than a couple minutes out of bed at a time to come see him. 

There was a quiet devastation clinging to her that Buck had never seen before. Maybe because before there would’ve been the safe walls of her home and the arms of her husband to cover her when she lost her unflappable mask. 

That, more than anything, makes him feel utterly helpless. As much as he had been thinking of Bobby as more of a dad to him than his own father for close to a decade, Athena was never his mom. 

After the rough patch at the start of their relationship, they’d understood each other in the way only two people who love someone as much as they both loved Bobby could. You hold half of his heart, so you’ll hold your fair share of mine, as well. Maybe that was why he’d taken one look at the longing in Athena’s eyes and promised to stay the night with Bobby. No matter his own desire to never let Bobby out of his sight again, he also wanted to protect the pieces of Bobby that were with Athena, as well. 

The only problem is that Buck has never been able to stay still for too long. He fidgets, and he bustles, and he fills silences. At the minimum, it usually earns him a dead-pan look that’s suspiciously drenched in fondness, or his name uttered in gentle scolding twinged with amusement. 

He half-expects the latter to fall from the corner of Bobby’s mouth with a single eyelid cracked open to give its best effort at the former, the way it usually happens when they’re in the bunkroom and everyone else is ready to sleep like the dead while Buck is wide-awake and wired like an electric fence. 

The image stands in such contrast to the blank slate of Bobby’s unconscious face that it does nothing to soothe his nervous fidgeting. He’s leaning so far forward, trying to summon any sort of conscious intention behind the mechanical rise and fall of Bobby’s chest and every reflexive twitch of his face, that he accidentally shifts the chair, so the bottom slides against the floor and breaks the momentary silence that only exists between the regular beeping and intercom noises that come muffled through the hospital room doors. 

Come on, Bobby. Tell me to shut up and go to bed. Tell me it’s late, and I can either close my eyes and actually try to sleep or go make some of that lavender tea we keep for this exact reason. You know you want to. Stilling so as to not miss any minute signs of Bobby’s stirring, Buck’s breath catches tight in his lungs like it used to when the fridge door would be too loud as he tried to sneak past his dad’s sleeping form in the living room armchair when he was a kid. Unlike back then, the disappointment when Bobby fails to stir is a living thing that threatens to swallow him whole. He rides the wave of devastation by opening his mouth and intentionally filling the silence, instead.

“I’m gonna say something, but you can’t get mad at me,” he says. Bobby is silent, but that’s not much different from how he’d usually react to such an opening from Buck, so he takes that as his go-head anyway. “I think this may be all my fault.”

It’s probably just his own nerves, but the air in the room settles around the words with so much  tension that it only serves to spur him on. “Not the- not the fire, obviously. I mean, I had no idea you’d even met the guy Athena thinks is responsible for it, but that’s kind of what I mean, you know? I had no idea.” 

His breath is shaky as he exhales, a tremble running up his shoulders. 

“I don’t- I don’t think I ever told you, what I saw when I was in the coma. Maybe you already guessed. Some days it’s like you seem to know what’s going on in my brain better than even I do, but it was just. It was a different world, Bobby. Daniel was still alive, so I guess I never had a reason to come to L.A. and join the academy and everything was just…wrong. Maddie was still with Doug, and Eddie never got to meet Carla so he couldn’t figure everything out fast enough to keep Chris, and Chimney…well, Chim was still Chimney but he told me that you were dead, Bobby. He told me you’d been dead for years and it was like I couldn’t breathe.” 

He kind of feels like that now, actually. His face feels hot and his eyelashes are heavy like when he’s about to cry but his eyes are dry. For the first time in years, he’s in agreement with his body’s reaction to something. If he were to start crying now, he wouldn’t ever be able to stop, and that feels too much like giving up to be acceptable. 

Deep breath, he thinks, in through his nose and pushed out from his mouth. His lips are dry. He keeps going. 

“I used to think that’s why I died, you know. Like I was supposed to learn something and that’s the only way the universe could think to get it through my thick skull, I guess.” 

“But I think I got it wrong,” he whispers, and it echoes as loud as the beeping from the heart monitor. 

“I thought it meant that I matter, you know. Like, ‘they need you as much as you need them! Don’t leave them alone!’ But I was so stupid.” So much for not crying. His day-old stubble is damp with tears. He’s been wearing these clothes for more than 24 hours at this point and he’s starting to feel overstimulated in the way he sometimes does when they’re on a busy shift and don’t have time to freshen up. It occurs to him that Bobby usually notices, like he notices most things that have the potential to bother any of them. This would be the time when he tells Buck to go ahead and take a quick shower while he reheats the food. And Buck would come back good as new, a weight lifted off his shoulders before he could even recognize it because someone cared enough about him to know him better than he did himself. 

“I’ve been so caught up in my own stuff since I came back and, God, I’ve just been so happy these past couple of months it feels like I’ve been walking around with blinders on. I didn’t even notice this thing going on with Eddie until it was too late and now he might lose Christopher. You came to talk to me after our last shift and I should’ve -  I should’ve - noticed something was wrong but all I could think about was if I had everything to go stay with Tommy. a-and then something happened with Eddie, and I honestly don’t think I spared you a single other thought that night, Bobby. I was using your recipe to make dinner for my date while your house was burning down.” 

He’s tripping over his words, like if he says them fast enough he can reach Bobby and earn his forgiveness first, before the disappointment settles in and bars the gates. 

“I should’ve remembered, Bobby. The dream showed me a world where I wasn’t there and you died, and I left it. I came back because I couldn’t live in that world. I refuse to.” Saying the words settles something in him, and he wipes the wetness from his eyes away with the flat of his palm before crossing his arms and sitting up in the chair, body once again posed like a shield between the outside world and the figure lying in the bed. 

“Look, maybe-maybe I already missed the chance the universe gave me. But you know better than anyone that I’m way better at third chances anyway.” He tries for a smile, and if he squints really hard he can almost see the muscles under Bobby’s eyes tensing the way they do when he’s about to smile, too. 

“You’ve never given up on me before, Bobby. Don’t start now.” 

The monitor’s beeping remains the only other sound in the room, but that’s okay. He’s learning to be patient. Bobby knows that, too. 

[byullielle]

Walls Could Talk // Bang Chan x Mafia!Reader

Part 1/3

Trilogy Playlist, Till Death Do Us Part, is what the vows contain. Hitched off to notorious mafia boss Christopher Bahng, and despite her volatile and bratty attitude–it'll be only through her that anyone gets to kill her husband.

Tags: Yakuza/Mafia AU, Est. Marriage, Marriage for Convenience, Eventual Lovers, Resolved Sexual Tension, Smut, Hurt/Comfort

Disclaimer: how chan looks in the freeze mv is exactly how he looks in this fic. themes and graphic descriptions of violence, drugs, substance abuse, panic attacks and disorders, trauma and traumatic responses are present, proceed with caution. chan does NOT cause the reader's trauma, however, and vice versa. MINORS DNI. NSFW Content.

4.5k Words

"Boss," he clears his throat, a nervous gait to him, "We failed to take her," he reports with a shaky voice, "Resistance…it was more than we anticipated,"

Your phone buzzes against the cupholder while the car speeds through the busy Seoul streets. Annoyance flares through your body like an allergy as you grab it with a wince–switching to airplane mode before a yelp escapes your lips. “Sorry,” Felix lowly mutters while concentratedly patching up the wound on your thigh.

For what it’s worth, it wasn’t your fault you were running late to the stupid function your husband was currently throwing. With the guest of honor late and wounded in her car, you hoped to god that he already started without you. Although if you didn’t have the police force under your family’s grasp Seungmin would’ve gotten 5 speeding tickets, at least. 

A loud yelp escapes you again, making Felix look up in concern while he’s putting pressure on the bleeding leg, making sure your pretty black dress isn’t soiled by blood. “Sure you can take it boss?” he asks with concern in his voice.

You huff, trying to lean back and endure the pain, especially the sore spot on your stomach after being kicked right by your diaphragm, “I can,”

You’ve argued to him many times that if he simply wanted to network he could do it without you there but apparently according to him, “Your presence is crucial,” and the second part, “Don’t run late,”

Normally, you weren’t one to be tardy to any function with special considerations such as this one but you highly doubt that was the conclusion your husband of 6 months would go to. Women and their womanly whims tend to make them late after all, you knew that much you’d get that specific flack for showing up almost an hour late. “Boss we’re almost there,” Seungmin announces before you groan and try to not mind the searing pain your body is going through before Felix places a square bandage on your thigh. You hand him the ice pack before turning your back so that he can put the dress back in place.

 “You sure you could walk properly in this state boss?” he asks, concern lacing his voice before handing you your gun. You hum noncommittedly, slipping the weapon on the garter holster on your more decent thigh before pulling the dress down completely, “Not that I have much of a choice, Felix,”

By the time your car rolls into the estate, Minho, one of your husband’s closest guards is already waiting outside, phone pressed to his ear wearing a very unamused and apathetic expression on his face it scares you a bit. “We should’ve brought Jisung with us,” Seungmin murmurs as he turns exits the car, immediately jogging to your side as Felix heads out first to give instructions to the valet boy. Seungmin reaches a gloved hand out while you take it, trying not to wince in pain as you smile sheepishly at Minho. “Sorry I’m late,”

“The boss isn’t happy,” he immediately counters as you fix yourself up one last time, “Well I’m here now,” you let out with a sigh before straightening your posture.

Minho pushes the door to the function open, the creaking sound of the closed door calling attention towards you while Seungmin and Felix take their posts on your right and left, a few steps back. Some of the chatter stops, all eyes on you but your eyes immediately land on Christopher’s.

And evidently, he isn’t happy.

The eye contact lasts for about 10 seconds, before your eyes start roaming in caution–starting to read the faces of the people who showed up. It grows with you, your stellar ability to read people's body languages and looks, the hardest challenge posed to you is still none other than Christopher.

However, today, he was wearing his heart out his sleeve. 

"Ladies and gentlemen," he grabs a pen nearby and taps it against the glass of wine he was nursing, "My beautiful wife," he announces, voice booming throughout the hall as the rest clap to your entrance. It does set off a few sensitive alarms off your head, the booming and drowning sound of claps flying all over, but you could feel Seungmin push you towards Christopher a bit more and snapping you out of the alarming noises. 

"Sorry I'm late dear husband," you smile, saccharine and sweet before gently cupping his cheeks, pressing a very chaste kiss on his lips, "I hope I didn't crash the evening too much," you whisper, close to his face before you feel him grip your arm tightly, "You're in big trouble,"

You bite back your retort, knowing better than to start being a smartass now. 'How big a trouble could I truly get when it comes to you,'.

People start approaching you, the prickle of the skin on your arm making itself known as you shake each and every person's hand while trying to read their faces. Some old, some new, all just the same. Chris still had his hand placed on your hip, knowing that the very condition you set him to show up in the first place was for the people to not get too comfortable.

They say it’s a possessive husband’s desire, you say it’s a wife who knows how to play her cards. 

Once the crowd around you has died down, distasteful comments of “Women getting ready,” and every variation of it finally gone, Christopher leans forward, “Where the fuck were you,”

You turn to him and smile, “Don’t you know women take forever to get ready, Christopher?”

A punch is lodged into your stomach as you groan. Felix digs his knife into the assailant’s back before tossing him aside, Jeongin is fending off two men single-handedly.

Who in their right mind would attack someone in front of their estate? Idiots. That’s who.

You roll onto your back to dodge an incoming attack from a knife, immediately extending your legs to kick the weapon away–as it flies mid-air you immediately rush to catch it before the assailant could. Once the hilt lands on your palm, you immediately slash the closest body part you can, handing a hit to the jugular. 

Blood splatters against your face, making you wince before getting up, the adrenaline from all the defense you have to do still fending off the stomach pain you know would hurt like a bitch. About 5 unconscious bodies are scattered around the perimeter of the infiltrated courtyard, blood painting the pavement. Felix and Jisung manage to hoard in another 3 men while Jeongin finishes off the last one, accidentally ripping his sleeve off as the body slumps down coldly on the pavement. “How many do you think are dead?” you wipe off the blood from your face, “Only two Boss,” Felix estimates, “We’ll clean up here, go get ready,” he immediately suggests before you notion to Jeongin, “Help me walk, I think one of them managed to get me on the thigh,”

“Yes boss,”

“Just tell me why I need to be here Chris,” you exasperatedly sigh, wrenching his hand off you before a sharp pain comes with your inhale. He furrows his brow and raises his hand again, this time a gentle grip encasing your shoulder, “You’re hurt,” he states as a matter of fact, “What happened, Y/N?”

“Just a little scuffle,” you excuse, “Christopher, I swear I have it under control. This is just collateral damage now tell me why I’m here,” you impatiently prod on, not bothering to even shrug his hand off. “Are you sure you’re up for it?”

“Do I need to shank someone?”

“No,” he shakes his head, finally lowering his hand, “You just have to observe. You’ve always been good at that,”

You sigh out to relieve some of the pressure off your stomach, nodding along with it before letting out a hum, “What exactly should I be looking for then,”

Christopher looks around and shakes his head slightly, taking your hand before pulling you into a more secluded corner of the venue, dimmed to its maximum before placing a hand on your back, both of you walking around with his head nearly pressed against yours. It looks intimate in an outsider’s view, so loving and so sweet. The contents of his information are anything but.

“The shipments are supposed to arrive today. Instead, we were met with a truck-full of cocaine gone,” he sighs while you keep your eyes on him, “Unfortunately, I suspect we have a rat amongst our ranks,” You furrow your brows, a frown on your face, “And you're suspecting the rat is here?” 

“That's what I want you to find out. Anything suspect, you immediately report to me,”

“How far back would it knock sales down?”

Chris shakes his head, “Not a lot, I got that covered at least,”

"Okay,” You nod, laying a hand on his arm before turning towards the crowd. You press a chaste kiss on his cheeks, nearly hitting the corner of his lips before you walk away from him, flipping your hair to the side while walking towards a few women with a confident stride. The stinging pain in your thigh was nothing, so long as you didn’t exert too much pressure against the leg, the stitches wouldn’t open. “Ah! If it isn’t miss Y/N!” one of them notices you as you take a glass of champagne from the passing waiter, a friendly smile immediately plastered on your face. “Hello ladies, mind if I join in?”

A few hours of chatting go by, and you're quite surprised you could find suspect so quickly. 

“Oh my husband would never even let me enter his office,” one of the ladies rolls her eyes, while the wife of one Jung Kwang-ho nods erratically, eyes obviously dilated while she goes on rapid-fire speech about her husband getting mad at her for wanting to stay with him in the workspaces. “And I can’t believe he named his nephew heir for his seat in office! Nephew!” she rants while flailing her hands wildly, the sweat on her forehead beading while she wipes them off with a handkerchief already in her hand, “That sister-in-law of mine isn’t even half reliable,” she mutters before you step closer to her, “Are you feeling warm Jung-ssi? You seem like you need a cooler place,” you suggest despite the air conditioning around. You had to ask Seungmin about the temperature later.

“Oh don’t mind me,” she giggles with a little tinge of unhinge-ness to it, “This is just my hot flashes darling, menopausal and all,”

‘Sure,’ couldn’t help but nod, however aside from another wife she was the only one profusely sweating. Continuing to converse with the wives, you couldn't help but keep a keen eye on her. ‘This couldn’t be good,’

The water swishes around as you scroll through the files Jeongin has sent you on your tablet, half your body submerged in the floral fragrance of the tub. You furrow your brows at the percentages presented to you, the loss of the drugs was not that great but something wasn't adding up, something amiss that you couldn't point your finger on. 

It was so reminiscent of something, long lost in the back of your mind but before you realize it a few drops of blood start dripping from your nose, a strong tremor shaking through your body as you feel your chest tighten. Tears blur your vision while the crushing weight on your lungs never lets out. You grip the sides of the tub, blurry vision seeing the bell your guards have left you for an emergency.

This was definitely one. Yet you couldn’t lunge forward to grab it, your bare body freezing cold in the water as nails scratching on the board tamper with your hearing. It was deafening, and you didn’t know if you were screaming or a silent wail unable to escape your throat. “Boss!” Jisung runs in with a towel in his hand immediately draping it over you not minding as the tips get dipped in the tub water, “Boss,” his voice softens, a steady hand on your shoulder, “Boss we’re here, should we call Soyeon?” he starts talking while trying to look at you in the eyes.

The searing pain in your thigh and stomach flare up, and then a stinging sensation by your spine jolts you up, tears flowing down as Jisung gently cajoles you back to reality. 

It goes by like forever, but once the pain stops, and nothing but the breathlessness is left, you look at him with wide eyes before he shouts for Felix to get another towel.

“What happened there boss?” he softly asks, making you gulp down and gasp out, “The attack,” you mutter, “It’s the same thing that killed my mother,” you painfully recall, closing your eyes before Jisung hums in acknowledgment, not pushing you further. “Boss, you wanna get out now? Some warmth would do you good,”

You nod and have him help you out of the tub, water dripping from the first towel as Felix walks in and hands you the new one, both of them leaving the bathroom with the door ajar as you dry yourself up. You’re careful to pat the wound on your thigh before looking back on the tub, realizing that there was blood coming from your nose. But the water was simply cloudy with oils and bath agents, with no trace of blood either in the water or from your nose.

You furrow your brows and take a deep inhale, trembling hands patting the towel around your body. The faster you were out of this bathroom, the better.

With paper in your hands, your footfalls echo against the mosaic tiles of the manor, desolate and lonely. You couldn’t help but have goosebumps rise over your skin as you tread the seemingly endless hallway to Chris’ office, but once you get there, you heavily pound against the heavy wood door.

Stepping back a bit, you come face to face with Changbin and his glock. “Changbin,” you greet with a slight nod of your head. He lowers his gun and guard down before bowing politely to you, opening the door wider to reveal Chris scanning through papers, desk filled to the brim with files scattered around. All the legwork he did the past week was catching up to him, and you were about to add more.

“Yes?” he mumbles, not even bothering to look up at you while signaling for Changbin to grab a chair for you. You wait for the velvet chair to be placed in front of his desk before gently smacking the papers against the file he was reading. “Jung Kwang-ho, familiar?" you question, trying to contain the residual trembles on your hands, “Yes, one of our valued assets, what about him?"

"Does his wife have a history of drug intake?"

“Not that I'm familiar with," he furrows his brows, setting the files aside, now fully facing you. "I met Jung Hyeon-ssi on exactly three occasions, and none of them seemed off,"

“Not anymore,” you nip at the corner of your lower lip, peeling off the slight excess skin with your teeth, “We talked. It's too early to say but keeping an eye on her and the Jung family isn't out of our best interest,” you mutter while averting your gaze.

He sighs, leaning back against his chair with a finger pressed to his temple, “I'll keep that in mind,” he responds, another sentence about to spill from his mouth before you get interrupted by a knock on the door. Both you and Chris turn to look before Changbin opens it and announces his presence. "Mr. Jung Yejun is here,"

In alarm, you immediately shoot out of the seat before making yourself comfortable on Chris' lap right after. 

"You didn't tell me someone was coming?" you scold through grit teeth while Changbin checks any weapons on the sudden guest. "Where would be the fun in that," Christopher smiles cockily at you, resting his hand on the shy of your satin-dressed back and pulling your legs closer with the other. "Oh you dog," you whisper in disbelief before the man himself enters.

"Oh, it's a pleasure to see you here today Miss Y/N, I hope you remember me," 

"I do," you smile, the mood immediately turning 180 come face to face with the guest. "Your aunt and I are well acquainted," 

Christopher draws small patterns on your back as you speak, your position on his lap making you seem like such a clingy spouse it makes you want to throw up. "Well, what brings you here Yejun-ah," Chris moves the process forward as he clears his throat. "Reports given by my uncle, our faction is already clearing out the fields to find the missing men belonging to the Jinyoung group, sir," 

"What missing men?" Chris then sits forward, hands still encasing you but adjusting you accordingly. Deciding to just end your suffering, you slide off his legs before placing both hands on the backrest of his chair, listening intently. 

"Your uncle hasn't reported any missing men yet, Yejun,"

“Haven’t you heard sir?” Jung hands over a file, your hand point blank on his arm as the sleeve rides up a bit, scales inked near his wrist. You peer over Chris’ shoulder and start scanning the files. It’s men from his faction of the city. “They’ve been gone for a while now, a few more added. I don’t know who’s responsible for this yet although my uncle is looking into it,”

Chris looks up at you, silently asking if you know these men. You subtly pat Christopher’s shoulder before he lowers the file and nods, “Thank you for your input, Mr. Jung, any more?”

“None sir,”

“Then you’re dismissed. Your information is highly appreciated,”

He nods wordlessly. Getting up, he makes a very quick exit to the office. Changbin starts checking in case he left some recording device while you take the file off Chris' hands. Flipping through the papers, you're shocked to see a few of the men from your faction of the group as well. 

"I thought only the cocaine was missing?" you question him with a scowl. "So did I," he sighs, "I'll look into it tomorrow. Jung would probably call me out-site. You keep on checking tabs on his wife,"

You nod, swallowing down the lump in your throat. Something was terribly wrong.

"Here Mrs. Jung," you kindly offer her a glass of iced water, "Oh thank you so much Y/N-ssi, what a darling you are," she smiles kindly, although her pupils are dilated widely there's still a certain endearment to how she looks. "How are you finding the party so far?"

"Oh, it's nothing too different. Nothing I haven't been to," she chuckles with whimsy laced in her voice, "Although the younger men are now in charge of their groups, it is my first time seeing their wives. Such as yourself," she starts to ramble. And you gladly let her, most of the time cocaine dependants are chatty, always giving out information with such little care in the world, it was quite convenient.

"How has your husband been treating you darling?" she asks, a hand on your arm before you couldn't help but flinch at the contact a bit, making her immediately detach from you. "Oh, sorry,"

"No, it's alright," you sheepishly chuckle, "I just get jumpy at times," you explain before straightening your dress, looking for Christopher amongst the crowd, "He's been wonderful," you try to dotingly muster, "He's been nothing but accommodating and kind to me,"

"Is that so?" Hyeon smiles, "Darling…you know you could tell me anything right," she woefully lays a gentle hand on yours, sweating profusely. You try to not let your brows shoot up in surprise at the sudden opening, "Oh me? I believe I don't have anything…" you try to excuse. 

"Do you…?" you question with hesitation, unsure about where the conversation was going. 

"Oh I do," she openly admits, there's no reason not to. Despite the confusion coursing through your body rumors about abuse regarding you aren't so far off the roster, "I've heard things my darling. This world wasn't always made for us," she smiles down at the glass of water, "But we can make it safer. At least your generation of wives,"

You control every nerve in your body to not snap in her direction, trying to ground yourself as you feign concern, "I don't quite understand," you gulp down before she hands you a slip of paper, a phone number scribbled onto it. "If Christopher touches you, call me, yeah?"

"Yeah, okay Jung-ssi,"

"Please, call me Hyeon-unnie,"

Leaning back against your chair, you furrow down at the piece of paper wedged between your fingers. Groaning you lean back and press your lips together. You suspect something off with the Jung family–with the messy case of the inheritance and Hyeon Jung’s potential drug addiction–it wasn’t the hardest to spot. What you were ultimately on the edge about was just how involved were they with your family.

For Hyeon to question how Chris treats you, an alleged abuse going on behind closed doors–where she got that information was beyond you. 

To Christopher’s credit, you and he got along well in terms of a loveless marriage– your ultimate free reign over your activities save for the occasional heiress chores you have to air out, and the respect you had for each other was a far cry from domestic abuse. Sure, the both of you were still aloof around each other, glorified housemates if anything but you knew he wouldn’t lay a hand on you. 

Letting a sigh roll out your lips, a knock comes from your door before you call out to let themselves in, "Felix," you tiredly smile at him, "Great timing I was about to call you,"

“Well I have a bit of bad news boss," he steps up in front of your desk, "What do you need?"

"Give me a background check on Jung Hyeon,"

“Sure,” he nods, “Here boss, the bad news," he hands you a folder. You thank him before he retreats from your office. 

Opening the folder, you immediately see photographs of a tattoo, serpentine in shape and scaly, a mamba of sorts. You turn the picture and see a name tagged to it, one of the men slain in the assault yesterday. Flipping through the pages is the same variant of the tattoo, clothed and unclothed.

You have a sense you’ve seen it before. 

Keeping up with the reading, the status of their factions are still unknown but there was a certain group they fell under. It didn’t take a genius–they were all part of the Jung family. Guards and marksmen. 

A sense of dread spills into your stomach, and you immediately scramble to reach out for your phone, contacting Hyunjin who answers in two rings, “Miss Boss?”

“Where is Chris?” you ask with urgency. “He took Minho-hyungnim with him, they’re on their way to Daego-do, last time he updated had to get gas. If you need anything Changbin is also there,”

“What exactly are they gonna do in Daego-do,”

“Check out the missing men case Jung-ssi presented yesterday,” was all you had to hear before hanging up abruptly.

“Fuck,” you spit out.

Running past Jisung and Changbin, you hot-foot it to the garage, grabbing your gun and keys. The pair look at each other and hurriedly follow, grabbing car keys no questions asked. You snatch your helmet out of the garage stands before putting it on hurriedly, the key already starting in the ignition while you tuck your gun in the holster on your leg. You mount your motorbike and rev up the engine while Jisung scrambles to start the car.

You immediately take off, smoke filling the garage. You speed out of the estate as fast as you can, time and a life on the line because Hyeon’s voice doesn’t stop–playing over and over again like a broken record. The verbalization of the realization catches up a bit late, through grit teeth and the wind pressure ahead of you, ‘Jung Kwang-ho is gonna ambush Chris,’ You weren’t a hundred percent sure, but your intuitions never failed you.

Your eyes are zeroed in on the road, speeding and weaving through cars as they honk at you violently. Seoul traffic wasn’t that bad for a 2 PM rush but fuck, were you tempted to hit the very end of that speed meter. You increase the speed drastically, tilting the bike back a bit before fully speeding off into the highway. Chris left 10 minutes ago, he couldn’t have made it that far yet, from what you knew Minho was a cautious driver, not even risking to speed up on the freeway beyond its limit.

You could catch up, you had to.

You squint your eyes to try and see further, trying to spot a black GMC but so far it was futile. Unless Hyunjin was wrong there was only one South Highway in the entirety of Seoul City. You lean forward, pushing the limits of the bike as it shoots off, gradually getting faster before a relieved gasp escapes you, seeing Chris’ car approaching a tunnel.

The panic in your system spikes, already seeing how many ways this could go wrong. So with a final boost of speed, you get close enough to the tail of the car, slowing down as you feel for your gun plastered to your side before pointing it at the wheel behind.

Then a gunshot goes off, narrowly missing you as you curse, motorbike wobbling a bit. You grit your teeth and speed up to the side of the car, trying to match its speed before targeting the front right wheel. The car’s brakes screech against your ears painfully, making it careen off to the side only to be stopped by the railings along the highway, smashing against the front of the car. You immediately step on the brakes of the motorbike, swerving it to the side before r immediately pointing your gun at the invisible gunman.

You squint and take two chance shots, a yelp immediately coming from the foliage atop the wall before a man crashes down the concrete, helmet emitting a crack sound as you see his leg shot. 

You look back hurriedly, seeing Jisung and Changbin try to catch up from the other side of the highway. You rush to Chris’ car, seeing the airbags activated before the door slams open, a gaping wound on Christopher's forehead, and a limp to his gait while holding his side, "What the fuck was that!" he yells as if he isn't in pain. You stand your ground and frown,"I'll explain later, help me get Minho out of the car," you push past him before rushing to the driver's side. Your own car stops, the doors flying open quickly “Fuck, boss what did you do!” Jisung curses as he gets out but you immediately signal to the dead man down on the highway.

“Get rid of the body quick, they probably retreated,” you look into the dark tunnel before you, “But this means war,”

Final disclaimer! This is not entirely accurate and is fabricated for the sake of storytelling. This is a work of pure fiction and does not represent any real-life people, events, or places.

> next part

> moodboard; sampler 1 | sampler 2

[psiithirisma]

AU where Phil is a single father of 3 and also owns a restaurant. Meets Kristin and falls in love but doesn't know how to "charm her" and neapolitrio (his kids) tries to help but they're little kids so it's all silly and cute.

Phil invites Kristin to a date in his restaurant after closing hours, she accepts. Then it's all just a nervous Phil + neapolitrio trying to create a romantic atmosphere and also one of them being the chef, one helping, and one the waiter.

He questions many /many/ times why he accepted to go with his boys' idea

Also, the 3 of them get Phil's instinctive dad side to show through the whole night by accident

little Tommy is the waiter and when he goes to ask them for their orders and is about to write them down he realizes he doesn't know how, so he asks Phil, who only sighs fondly and takes Tommy's notepad and pen and writes it for him. Kristin finds it adorable.

Tho the illusion is soon broken after Tommy thanks his dad and checks the notepad, frowns, and says out loud "dad I can't read this, your handwriting is shit!"

Phil, immediately: Tommy! Don't say that!

Tommy: what? Is true! You told us not to lie

Phil: no-

Tommy: am I not allowed to say bad things abt you in front of your girlfriend?

Phil: I meant don't curse.

Tommy: aw, that's not fair! you get to do it all the time.

Tommy: and Techno and Wilbur do it all the time when you aren't near!

Wilbur, from the kitchen: DON'T SNITCH YOU RAT!

Phil, whispering while he covers his red face: for fucks sake...

Tommy: see!!!

Tommy goes back to the kitchen shouting "Wiill, what does it says here? dad's handwriting is  dog poop!" which only gets more giggles from Kristin and for Phil to press his hands harder against his face.

That embarrassing bit over, Kristin and Phil move on and keep talking. But then you can hear from the speakers a young voice (Wilbur) whispering "it's this on? [Louder] Hello, dadza and Kristin! we made our own cool song for you lovebirds, wink".

It's followed by a song with really bad quality audio, bc none of them could figure out how to put a song properly so they just kept the speaker open meanwhile Wilbur leave the song playing through his cellphone.

This song is just some cover from an already existent one except for some parts being changed to Phil's and Kristin's name to, y'know, make it more romantic.

Phil considers death would be a kind fate at this point for him.

When the song ends, quick steps can be heard and the next second Wilbur is at their table, smiling wildly and asking Phil if he liked the song

Dad mode kicks in and all previous embarrassment almost seems like it never existed from the start

Phil: you have been improving a lot, well done, I loved it

Wilbur, beaming with joy: I learned it all by myself too!

Phil: wait all by yourself?

Wilbur: (intense nodding)

Phil: aw, mate! I'm so proud of you

Wilbur goes to the kitchen, celebrating after Phil's compliments.

Phil and Kristin go back to chatting, this time a little more at ease and without many interruptions, soft sounds emanating from the kitchen.

That's it until Techno shouts Phil's name and Wilbur is at the kitchen's entrance calling for Phil at the same time with a panicking expression.

Phil excuses himself and gets up from his seat at the speed of light to the kitchen. His ears are met by the sound of sniffles.

There, in the kitchen, he can see Techno kneeling in front of Tommy trying to calm him down while he holds Tommy's little hands gently.

Wilbur explains that Tommy was helping them cook by peeling potatoes but cut himself accidentally and now he's bleeding and they didn't know what to do nor where are the band-aids

Phil, being the only man ever, sorts the situation easily. Telling the twins where the medical kit is while he takes Tommy in his arms and washes the blood away with cold sink water, cradling him to console his youngest's sobs.

Soon enough Tommy it's all patched up (they only cleaned the cut and put a band-aid on it) but doesn't let go of his dad so Phil just kinda accepts this is his new lifestyle.

He's about to come back with the little blonde to his and Kristin's table but then realizes the woman admiring the scene from behind the counter. Phil is halfway mouthing an apology until Kristin seems to land on something and alerts them about the smoke coming from the stove.

They turn to look at it and oh yeah there's smoke coming from the stove oven...

When they open it, the family are met with more smoke that only gets Techno coughing and his face tainted with gray and the entire kitchen clouded. Oh there's also fire.

Kristin is this time who handles the situation, taking the emergency fire extinguisher from a wall near and putting out the fire, telling the twins to open the windows to clear the place of smoke.

After that Techno is already apologizing, embarrassed that he forgot about the chicken in the oven and also miscalculated the temperature.

But Phil just hugs him (the best he can without squeezing Tommy between them) and reassures him it's okay, that he appreciates that Techno tried and the only thing he cares about is that all 3 of them are okay.

Techno seems still unsure but any uncertainty he had is washed off when he feels Tommy's little hand giving him some comforting pats on the top of his head.

Wilbur breaks the tender moment by saying "unlike you pair of losers I did everything right so I think I just deserve a hug for awesomeness” which makes Phil laugh and both, Techno and Tommy, flip him off.

Tommy also shows him his tongue, y'know, for a double offense.

They get scolded (“kids, don't flip your brother off”) and Wilbur joins the hug, against Tommy and Techno's wishes.

Phil (with Tommy still in his arms) and Kristin return to their table, followed by two tired twins who just pull some chairs near them, sitting next to Phil, each on each side.

Kristin and Phil look at each other in silence, both tired but smiling.

“Pizza?”.

“Pizza”.

[newtonsheffield]

Does Kate ever get jealous when women more of Anthonys age flirt with him? I can imagine that she is very secure in their love and she knows what she wants, but you wrote that Anthony worries a bit, that she is not ready for the things he is ready for, but is it also the other way round? That Kate worries, that anthony will get tired of waiting for her?

Oh absolutely.

Kate loves Anthony, she knows she wants to spend the rest of her life with Anthony. That’s what she wants. But she’s 22. She knows one day she wants to have a family, or she would if she was with the right person but it seems pretty set in stone now that she’s with Anthony. But sometimes she worries that Anthony’s ready for things she’s not. She sees how happy he is with his nephew and nieces and she loves that. She loves how happy he is, but it makes her chest ache sometimes.

“Do you want to have kids?”

Anthony drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, watching her carefully, “Um… I wasn’t sure until… I’m the only one of my older siblings that doesn’t have kids and I… felt like I sort of missed my chance probably. But now I… yeah I want to have kids. Do you want kids?”

She nodded slowly, “Yeah, one day I want kids. My kids would be cute, feels as though I should bless the world with them.”

Anthony smiled, leaning over to kiss her gently, “Your kids will be cute.”

It felt warm in her chest, that he wanted the same thing she did, but it made her nervous as well, that he would want it sooner than she did. That that would be what ruined them in the end. And it truly wasn’t that she didn’t trust Anthony, it wasn’t that. She knew there were men who thought it was good for their ego, to date younger women then cast them aside and tell them they were too young, too immature. That wasn’t Anthony. He made her feel so secure in who she was, in their relationship all the time. But still she wondered.

She wondered when she saw him with his nephew and nieces and she wondered when she saw other women batting their eyelashes at him. Not that she blamed them. He was handsome, made more handsome in her opinion by the salt and pepper patches at the temples of his hair, and the self assured smile he gave the journalist as she leaned into the microphone. It annoyed her, the way the woman was smiling at him, her hand on his bicep as though he wsn’t wearing a hat with Kate’s name splashed across the front, and his sneakers weren’t printed with her name: the first pair of men’s shoes they’d ever made in her line. And part of her wondered if he wouldn’t be happier, with someone he didn’t have to wait for. With someone he wouldn’t have to leave space for, because he was scared that they were too young.

“Enjoy the Australian open Anthony!” The woman said and Anthony waved as he stepped back, grinning at the camera. “ One last thing: Who are you tipping to win?”

“Who else? SharmaRama all the way!”

“And the men?”

“Oh! No bloody idea!”

“Hey you.” Anthony grinned at her as he caught her around the waist, kissing her cheek.

Kate nodded as they walked away, his arms still around her waist, back towards where her car was waiting for them, and she hated the jealousy that was still rippling through her.

“Everything okay?”

Kate nodded again, “Fine.”

Anthony eyes narrowed as the car pulled forward and he opened the door, sliding in behind her, “In my experience people only say they’re fine when they’re not. Want to talk about it?”

“Would I have to squeeze your bicep while we do?” She hated how childish it sounded, thrown at him. Something that wasn’t even his fault and she sighed as she blinked at him, “I’m sorry that was… dickish.”

Anthony took her hand, squeezing it gently, “I didn’t think that would bother you, I’m sorry.”

Kate rolled her eyes, “That didn’t bother me. You’re cute, and charming and you’re wearing my sneakers and I feel like I’m taking something from you because I’m not ready for everything you are.”

Anthony wrapped his arms around her shoulders, pulling her tight against his chest, “I’m… not really following the train of thought but I’m sorry if you feel like I’m pressuring you but I… only want to do things you’re ready for. When I told you I knew I wanted kids now I meant because I met you and you’re the only person that I’ve ever seen myself having a family with. I am ready when you are and until then: I’m perfectly happy with our relationship.”

Kate relaxed against his chest, tucking her face against his neck, “I don’t think you’re pressuring me, I just… I love you and I’m really happy and I’m sorry I was a dick to you: You look very cute in your Kate Sharma tennis shoes.”

He kissed the top of her head, “I love you too: And seriously Nike needs to be making these in Men’s sizes for sale: I have had at least 4 men ask me if I’d sell mine.”

[monstersandmaw]

Female knight x lady - part one?

Disclaimer which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

I've had this knocking around for ages, and I don't know if I'll continue it, but I fell in love with all the characters anyway and figured someone might enjoy it. It was based on a prompt that I can't find now, but ran along the lines of: "Female knight looking for a Lady to serve. Experienced in monster slaying."

Wordcount: 4149 Contents: Buff, tough, butch knight seeks employment from a local lady, featuring the ugliest horse in all the land, a dog named Muffin, and a brother who just wants his sister to be happy and safe... Fleetingly suggestive moments, but nothing super nsfw.

“Here goes nothing,” she sighed as she drove the nail into the village noticeboard with the pommel of her dagger and stepped back to look at her chicken-scratch writing. “Fuck,” she added as she glowered at it and saw the way her hand had smudged the bottom of it.

“Female knight looking for a Lady to serve. Experienced in monster slaying. Find me at the Bleeding Goat until the day after the Spring Equinox.” At least, if she squinted it still looked like ‘Spring Equinox’. If she didn’t, it looked like ‘Stink Jurybox’ or even ‘String Fairyfox’.

“Fuck,” she said again, and turned away. It would have to do. She didn’t have any more paper anyway.

And with that, she led her enormous war horse down the road towards the Bleeding Goat inn. Maggot was a vile mare by anyone’s estimation, but Vika loved her dearly. Built like a brick shithouse, with a shaggy, yellow-ish white coat, pink eyes, and a propensity for biting anyone who came within a three yard radius of her, the mare wouldn’t have won an equine beauty contest if she was the last horse in the land, but she was loyal to Vika, and could keep up a steady trot for days without breaking a sweat. She made a great windbreak too, if the need called for it, and her hooves were the size of a large buckler shield. Once iron-shod, they were lethal when she reared up or lashed out.

The ostler at The Bleeding Goat almost didn’t take her.

“Size of that beast,” he muttered as Vika led her into the fresh stall. “Looks like it might eat one of my donkeys whole if I turn my back!”

“She won’t trouble the others if they don’t trouble her,” Vika growled down at him.

“If you say so,” he said, giving her the once-over too as he looked back over his shoulder at her.

At six foot three, with broad shoulders, thick, wild, dark brown hair that resisted almost every attempt at combing, a jaw like an anvil and a glare to make a dragon nervous, Vika was only distantly aware of the little man, the way a lion might briefly take note of a mouse in the grass.

“Like horse, like rider,” he muttered as he shut the door on Maggot’s stall. He reeled backwards and tripped over his own heels when Maggot lunged for him, teeth bared, red eyes rolled to show the whites and her lopsided, wolf-bitten ears pulled right back against her matted mane. “Fucking hell,” the ostler yelped as he scrabbled to his feet. “Look after it yourself!”

“Suits me,” she said with a shrug. “You never gave me the chance to offer.”

“Bitch,” he spat as he slunk out of the stable yard, nursing a bruised backside and a wet patch where he’d fallen on the muddy ground.

“That’s ‘Dame’ to you!” Vika yelled after him. When he stopped and lurched back around to goggle openly at her, she offered him a cold, feral grin and tapped the pattern of embroidered lilies and swords on her padded brigandine with her thumb. “Dame Vika of Sharkshoal Point.”

“Right. Sorry, m’lady. Ma’am. Dame…”

She snorted and turned away just as Maggot whickered in a way that meant she was thoroughly amused with her own antics. Vika poked her in the chest and she stepped back from the stable door to let her owner in, and with practised movements that felt almost meditative, she had untacked the horse and rubbed her down with a handful of straw. The bran mash and oats she’d paid for were brought to her by a trembling stable lad who had stared up at her from over the stable door with wide eyes until Maggot had neighed with soft, enquiring interest and he’d practically flung it over the door and bolted for the kitchen door of the inn. Anyone might have thought Maggot was a roaring dragon by the way he’d reacted, but it was a common enough occurrence that neither mare nor knight paid it any mind.

Vika spent three days at the inn.

She took the time to sharpen all her numerous blades, not just the greatsword she usually kept sheathed on Maggot’s tack, and she even managed to acquire a needle and thread to darn up a few slashes in her padded brigandine. Her needlework wouldn’t have passed muster in the house of a lady, but delicate embroidery wasn’t the goal. She could make two pieces of fabric meet and stay together well enough, and that would have to do. She could also sew up a person if push came to shove, and she bore the scars of her own neat stitching in a number of places about her body as proof.

On the fourth day, while the lively little town was setting up for the Spring Equinox celebrations, a man entered the tavern’s common room and looked around, asking for the ‘female knight’ who’d placed the advert on the board.

She tensed but let the scene play out, watching as the cute serving girl flushed and pointed across the room at her.

The man turned and cocked an eyebrow when he looked Vika up and down, but he thanked Ella and wove his way carefully between the tables. He was wearing the practical garments of a labourer, with a long tunic that covered his hips and a belt around the waist, but the fabric was far finer than any Vika had ever clapped eyes on, and his fur-trimmed cloak looked soft enough to swaddle a baby. His boots were worn to the point of comfort, but not falling apart, and at his hip he carried a slender sword with a silver pommel.

“Forgive the intrusion,” he said with a polite incline of his head and an accent that betrayed him as nobility as surely as the gold stitching on his scabbard. “But are you the knight who placed the advertisement on the noticeboard? You’re looking to serve a lady?”

“I am,” she said, blunt and direct as ever. “Vika,” and she stuck out her hand to him.

He shook it without hesitation and revealed a strong, firm grip. “Lord Roland. Brother of the Lady Elayne Drummond,” he added with a friendly twist of his lips.

He was attractive, for a man, with big, brown, puppy-dog eyes and russet brown hair that fell in easy waves around his ears to brush the fur of his cloak. He had a short beard that was well-maintained, and his skin had the healthy glow of one who had never missed a meal a day in his life and spent much of his time out of doors.

“May I sit?” he asked, eyeing the chair opposite hers across the table.

She glanced down at the throwing knife she’d been in the process of sharpening, and at the black grime that coated her fingertips and around her nails from the oil and the whetstone, and felt a touch of shame beside his immaculate appearance, but she nodded all the same. “Sure. Make yourself comfortable. Can I get you something to drink?” she offered.

He smiled at that and nodded. “The ale here is the best in town,” he said, looking over his shoulder and beckoning over the serving girl with dark eyes and curly, black hair.

“M’lord?” Ella chirped and then shot Vika a smile. She’d flashed her the same smile on Vika’s first night, and again when Vika had made it clear in which room she was staying, should the young woman feel like joining her when she’d finished work. Ella had, and she’d fallen apart with the same glorious light in her eyes under Vika’s mouth and with her fingers buried deep inside her. They’d not met since, but they’d been easy in each other’s company ever since.

They ordered their drinks, and Roland turned back to Vika, resting his forearms on the table. “I suppose I should ask the reason you’re placing advertisements on public noticeboards instead of serving with the king, or even the knight who gave you your title to begin with.”

“A fair enough question,” she shrugged. “He died. Of old age, mind you. I served Gwilym of Sevenoaks from the time I was first raised to the order until two years ago. After his death, I decided to travel. Found myself here, and decided it was time to find myself a new place to roost.”

 “Your advertisement said you’ve slain monsters…?” he asked just as their tankards arrived.

“Thanks,” Vika murmured to Ella as she slid it across the table to her, and then looked up at Roland and shrugged. “Yeah. But nothing that didn’t deserve it first, you know? There was some sick fuck who was kidnapping maidens to feed to a dragon, so I went to the dragon and found out what was really going on, challenged the fuck to a duel, he ran, I put an axe through his skull before he’d cleared the trees. Then there was a vampire that had gone feral back near Reaver’s Canyon, and she refused to let me chain her up til the bloodlust faded. Went into full shift, came at me, and went for my neck —” she bared the side of her throat to Roland where the skin was puckered. “Near tore me open with her fucking claws, but I staked her and that was that. Cauterised it with my own dagger. Nearly fucked up the temper on it too,” she added as an afterthought.

Roland cleared his throat and shifted in his seat, and she wasn’t sure if he was impressed or uncomfortable. Again, that wasn’t an uncommon reaction for folks to have to her.

“Right. Well, you clearly know what you’re doing…” he said in his clipped, aristocratic tone. “I do have one more question.”

“Ask away,” she said and drained a third of her tankard in one go. “Ah, fuck me, you’re right. That is good.”

“Right,” he chirped again, shuffling slightly in his seat. “My sister is… Well… She’s… She’s a lady… you understand…”

“Sisters of Lords usually are,” Vika growled. “What’s your point?”

“Quite, but… while your… um… your deeds are certainly impressive — and if you say you served with Sir Gwilym, I can’t argue that he knew good character when he saw it — I must say that your language is… uh…”

“Unbecoming of the knightly order?” she said. “Don’t worry. I can hold my tongue when I have to. I’m just tired and a bit run down. I apologise. I can watch my mouth, if it offends the lady.”

Roland blushed. “You know, it probably wouldn’t offend ‘the lady’, if I’m honest,” he sighed. “It’s just… Well, you understand. Decorum and all that.”

“Yeah, I get it. So is there an opening at the castle or not?”

He nodded. “I think you’ll fit in just fine, but as a formality, I’d like to extend a trial period to you.”

“Oh, Roland,” she grinned over the rim of her tankard. “Never give a knight the challenge of a trial.”

His answering smile went all the way to his big brown eyes, and he raised his own tankard to her. “I look forward to meeting you in the lists, Dame Vika.”

She snorted and drained her ale. “Ready when you are. Just need to grab my horse and my gear.” Roland slid two coppers onto the table and she frowned. “Thought I said I’d pay?”

“I’m the one interviewing,” he shrugged as he stood and made his way past Ella to the door. “You can leave a tip if you like.”

“Oh, I already tipped her,” Vika purred, sliding a silver coin into Ella’s palm while the young woman blushed prettily and tried to hide a smirk behind a dip of her head. “Bring my saddlebags down to the stables, love? They’re all packed up in my room,” she asked before following him towards the stables.

A magnificent black palfrey, still wearing his gleaming tack, stood in the stable next to Maggot’s, staring wide-eyed and stock-still at the mare with a look of abject horror on his face so comical that Vika guffawed when she saw him.

“That’s…your horse?” Roland asked as he saw Vika hang her arms over her mare’s stable door and dangle her hands in a ‘come here’ gesture at the mare.

“Yeah,” she sighed. “I know. Before you say it, we’ve heard it all before. But she’s everything to me, alright? Wouldn’t trade her for a high-stepping prancer like that for the world.”

Roland’s horse snorted, offended.

“Fair enough,” he said, and swallowed thickly. “Come on, Lancer.”

Vika rolled her eyes and hefted her own saddle off the rack near the door and slung it over the stable door. She tacked her mare up in silence and led her out into the yard to mount up after Ella brought out her saddlebags and Vika winked at her just to watch her blush again. “Thank you, love,” she said. Damn, but the girl was pretty.

Ella rested her hand boldly on Vika’s thigh as she looked coyly up at her and said, “It’s been a pleasure, m’lady.”

The ride to the castle took twenty minutes, and passed through some of the loveliest countryside Vika had ever seen. Deer scattered from a nearby field into the oak and beech trees on their right, and as they urged their horses into a canter, Maggot threw in a little buck of happiness and Vika laughed, patting her neck as she sat it with familiar ease.

“I don’t mean to be rude,” Roland said as they continued to canter, his palfrey slightly in the lead and looking wary about the lumbering beast a pace or two behind him, “But how did you come by a horse like… that?”

Vika looked down at her mare’s boulder neck and shoulders and sallow, flaxen mane, listening to her dragon snorts as she heaved up the hill. It sounded like a hell of a lot of effort, but she could outlast any fancy racer once the quarter mile marker had been passed. She wasn’t fast, but hell, she had endurance.

“Saved her from a slaughterhouse,” Vika called above the wind in their ears. Her own long hair streamed behind her, probably tangling into an even worse bird’s nest, but she couldn't have cared less after days cooped up in the tavern. She’d expected to have her advertisement ignored, and simply to move on while the town celebrated equinox, but this was infinitely more attractive.

Roland’s horse put on a sudden spurt of speed, nudging from canter to a ground-chewing gallop, but Maggot just ploughed on at the same stubborn canter, pounding her great hooves into the soil until Roland sat back in the saddle and his fancy prancer slowed with a frustrated toss of his head. “A slaughterhouse?” he asked.

“Yeah. They thought she was far too ugly to make a destrier, and too mean to make a carthorse. I took one look at her and bought her. She was a year old at the time, and already built like a siege engine. She could teach mules about being stubborn too.”

“Something I sense you two have in common?” he said, and because he said it not unkindly, Vika laughed.

“You got me there,” she said with another laugh. “So what’s your sister like? And why is she looking for a female knight, specifically?”

He slowed Lancer to a brisk trot, and Vika nudged Maggot up beside him, instinctively tugging the reins to one side when Maggot went to bite the destrier’s glossy, black rump on the way past.

“Ah, none of that,” she barked at the horse, and for once, the mare listened, plodding along like an aged plough horse.

“Elayne is…” Roland began, and then faltered, scrubbing his hand over his face. “She’s beautiful, educated, beloved…” he said, and Vika frowned. When he looked askance at her, he sighed and the weight of it dragged his shoulders down with it. “She’s miserable. Our father… well, he loved her more than anything, but he kept her penned in… like a bird in a cage. She can insult you in about fifteen different languages, but she’s got no experience of any of the places where they speak them. Not even of our own country, really.”

“Sounds lonely,” Vika offered, and not without some sympathy. She’d travelled, and she’d met her fair share of courtly folk before. It wasn’t all it was made out to be.

Roland nodded. “Yes. I think… now that father’s dead, she’d like to see something of the world.”

Vika raised her eyebrows. “And you want someone to go with her?”

“Precisely. We have contacts all across the land,” he said. “She’d never want for a place to stay, but it’s the in-between that worries me. There’s no disguising we’re a wealthy family, and if someone figured out who she is, she could be taken for ransom, or harmed, or… It doesn’t bear thinking about. I can’t go with her because someone would have to run our estates in her absence.”

“She manages that now then?” Vika asked and he nodded.

“Yes. Father taught her everything, and, to my shame, I never had much of a head for it; not the way she does. She’s a natural. I can manage though,” he added, cheeks heating. “It’s not like it’d fall apart completely without her, but… yes. She’s the one who manages the day to day of the castle and the estate finances.”

“I’m surprised she’s not got suitors lining up from the castle gates to Southport,” she snorted.

“Oh, she has,” he laughed.

“None of them good enough?”

Again, Roland barked a laugh. “Seemingly not. Look —” he said, and pointed with his gloved right hand as they rounded a bend in the road and the trees drew back a little way. “That’s Crow’s Nest.”

Vika followed his gesture and spotted the dark castle on the hill easily enough. “Impressive,” she murmured.

“Think your ugly mare can beat my Lancer to the courtyard from here?” he asked.

Maggot was already lurching forwards into a determined canter before Vika had processed the question. “What did I tell you about knights and challenges?” she yelled over her shoulder at him as they took off with an ungainly jolt.

Lancer, of course, was off like a hound after a hare a second later, his silky tail held high as an officer’s plume, but after a mile, he began to slow while Maggot just thundered on like a boulder down a mountain. Vika just sat forward a little in the saddle and gave the mare her head to set her own pace. They overtook Lancer on a corner by an oak on the last stretch and Vika yelled, “I hope they let us in without you, Prancer!”

“You’d just batter down the gates anyway!” he roared back, laughing.

Maggot won by a country mile, though mostly through grim determination and grit than anything else. Her sides heaved by the time she got to the barbican gate, and Vika was forced to sit back and ease her into a trot before the archers on the gate started to shoot at her.

Lancer appeared a few minutes later, his deep, black chest rimed with foam and his nostrils flared wide while Vika was still walking Maggot in a lazy circle just out of bow shot, and Roland shook his head. “Damn,” he laughed. “I’d love to see Maggot race Crocus.”

“Crocus?”

“My sister’s gelding. Don’t ask about the name — something to do with saffron and the fact that he’s probably the most orange horse you’ll ever lay eyes on. Open the gate!” he added in the same breath, and the portcullis rumbled up.

“Bit extreme, isn't it? We’re not exactly at war…” Vika muttered as the ironwood frame ground upwards into the bastion above and Lancer ambled in like he was the lord of the castle, not Roland. Maggot eyed the murder-holes with deep suspicion, and then followed the palfrey inside.

Roland shrugged. “There’s already been one attempt on both my sister’s life and my own since our father’s death,” he said, and all the jollity of the race evaporated from his handsome, boyish features. “Can’t be too careful.”

“Shit,” she hissed. “I can see why you’re not celebrating the Equinox here,” she commented, looking around and finding the castle bailey empty of all the accoutrements of celebration like a mummers’ platform and festive stalls.

“Not this year. We’re funding the festivities in the town though,” he said, “To make up for it. But we’re not hosting anything here. Elayne is devastated,” he added as he sprang lightly down from Lancer’s saddle and loosened the girth while a stable hand strode over to greet them. “And very angry with me.”

“Careful,” Vika advised as a second stable hand approached her. “She’s… not the friendliest.”

“Right…” the young man chirped, faltering. “Uh… you want to lead her in then?”

Vika saw her mare settled and rubbed down, and when the stable hand promised to feed her in an hour’s time, after the strain of the race had faded from her body, Vika relaxed a little. He did know what he was doing after all. “Don’t shut yourself in there with her though,” she advised him while the mare rolled her red eyes at them, and the young man nodded.

She hooked her saddle bags over one arm and strode after Roland to meet him at the castle entrance.

The next few hours passed in a blur, but after she’d bathed and been given a new set of clothes, which not only fitted her but actually suited her, by a tailor who seemed to have magicked them out of thin fucking air, Vika meandered down towards the great hall.

A massive wolfhound lay sprawled across the doorway ahead of her, and just as the sole of her boot touched the marble entrance hall floor at the base of the stairs, a young woman emerged from a doorway on the other side, and the wolfhound looked up. His shaggy, bull whip tail began to wag and he whined and wriggled on the floor like a puppy as the woman approached, unaware of Vika’s presence behind her on the stairs.

“Oh, Muffin!” she giggled, kneeling beside him and playing with his ears and his bearded chin.

Her dress — a silvery, iridescent blue that shifted as Vika stared at it — pooled around her like a cloud on a summer day, and Vika watched as the dog floundered into a sitting position and tried to lick the woman’s face. She leaned back, laughing, and then caught sight of Vika as she turned her face away.

Vika, a woman who rarely found herself without retort or reposte, stood speechless as the young lady looked up at her and parted her lips in a soft ‘oh’ of surprise.

Vika was no stranger to beauty. From milk maids to marquesses, she’d seen it all, but this woman, with her smooth skin and warm, honey-coloured hair coiled up in pearl-studded waves, her flowing silk dress and bright, blue-grey eyes, gave new meaning to the concept of beauty. “Fuck,” she breathed, too quite for the lady to hear.

“Hello,” the lady smiled. The dog had gone still and was staring at Vika as though he was still deciding whether to launch himself at her or let her approach. “I don’t believe we’ve been introduced.” And with that, she rose like a dancer and crossed to her.

Standing in front of her, she was a foot shorter than Vika, but as she looked up into Vika’s face, the urge to kneel, to bow her head and give every shred of her soul to the woman surged so strongly in her chest she almost wept. Swallowing thickly, she managed, “Dame Vika. Of Sharkshoal Point.”

Something cleared in the woman’s face and she smiled so delightedly that Vika felt lightheaded. “You’re the knight my brother found!” she beamed.

Unable to do aught else, Vika bowed her head. “I am, Lady. If you’ll have me.”

“That remains to be seen,” she grinned, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “I hear you beat my brother in a race today,” she added and turned towards the great hall behind her. “Perhaps you’d care to spar with him tomorrow?”

“Will you be there to judge us?” Vika asked before she could stop herself.

“I suppose I should be, shouldn’t I?” Elayne said, pausing and looking back over her bare shoulder. “If you’re to be my knight,” she added, and as her dark eyes raked the length of Vika’s body from boot to crown of head, Vika shivered.

“I’ll be your knight, Lady,” she promised.

Elayne smiled brilliantly, and Vika bit her lip.

___

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[jogos-delulu-wife]

I'm so so soft for Jogo and I don't know where else to talk about my cringe BUT 👉👈 I love the idea of grumpy old Jogo starting to fall for you because of how well you care for the only other people he's opened his heart to in his long long lifespan. Like you treat Hanami with awe and reverence and gently try to pull her into group conversation when she's withdrawn. You play with Dagon in tide pools, collecting shells, and looking for sea stars. All the while Jogo is puffing away at his pipe trying to pretend like his heart isn't MELTING for you.

I loce this :’) I had some ideas but this is really the start i needed 🥺

And not cringe here 🤭 we can cry and pour our hearts out together here 🧡🩶 this went from a short Drabble to me pouring my heart out 😤🥹

Backstory time 🎉

It all started the day Geto brought you home, ah yes, you remember minding your own business in an underground club your friend brought you along too, it was just a cover up for an underground curse fight club you knew too well, over all you joined along after she begged you to go support her boyfriend with her, going along you felt strange, maybe with the curse living inside of you festering and becoming aggressive in your chest and stomach when loud blares of music surrounded you as you walked through the club that smelt like the fog machine and people who needed to shower covering up with perfume or cologne.

Making it to a bouncer you and into the back rooms of 5 flights of stairs and into a caged rink, the fun began that night, because you friend didn’t tell you you were gonna support her boyfriend because he was putting you into battle, true friends right? There you were forced into the ring shaking from all eyes on you, nervous and you could feel it in your stomach, chest and throat. Unbeknownst to you the curse living inside you was a generational curse, one time your ancestor made a pact with a mad man who backs the strongest curse user of his time, and when he was killed the pact was completed, a hand full of cursed energy was implanted into your ancestors and was passed on to the next generation as the old holder passed, every user was able to refine and work the cursed energy building up its power and strength, when they passed the cursed enter would layer almost like taking a ball and wrapping it with tape, passing it so the next person could use it and when they were done they would wrap it with another layer of tape before passing it along, every unique technique and skill accumulated for the next holder to use freely. A special grade is what you could be considered had your family ever learned to coexist with the Jujutsu world, back to it, a man with a patchwork face entered the ring and shivered under his stare, you looked around panicked finding your friend screaming and banging on the glass dome making some kinda hand motion confused before you snapped around to the man lunging at you hand stretched out, making a quick hand motion you said “Curse Technique” stepping side ways so the man was almost passing you instead reaching your hand out to grab the man’s raised wrist “Dissolution” kicking you foot around you dragged his wrist down causing him to flip and go skidding across the floor, Dissolution, being able to dissolve or nullify an enemies curse technique for a temporary amount of time after making physical contact. The man jumped up racing at you and placing a hand on you, what his technique was you had no idea, but he couldn’t use it and that’s all that mattered, bringing two hands together, the tips of you thumb, pointer, and pinky finger touching, the first knuckle of your ring and middle fingers touched as they were folded down, “Domain Expansion Soul Prison” the glass dome was blacked out by one of your ancestors Domain’s there knelt the patch work man bound by chains and staffs pierced him holding him in place the more he moved the more the chains tightened and more staffs would pierce his body to restrict his movement

It was beautiful, someone so powerful that the battle didn’t even last five minutes before Patchwork was relenting, saying he’d surrender. Domain closing the gates were open to let you out of the ring, just as you exited where you came in you ran smack into a man with black robes and satisfied look on his face, “Looks like I found exactly what i need.”

That’s how you ended up being picked up by the hood of you sweater and dragged home like a kitten and its mom, you kicked and tried to protest only to cave and just dangle there, your friends boyfriend trying to protest only to be killed by the patchwork man who simply touched him, you blinked and stayed quiet until you were dropped and told to follow along, and like a good surprise adopted kitten you followed along for some odd reason

It didn’t take long on the beachy shore for you to get comfortable, you were playing with what you thought was an octopus in the tide pools, petting its little head as it just moved around the water following you and letting you stacks shells on rocks that you’d show him and he’d occasionally blow water bubbles and nudge you when he found an intact shell, you couldn’t fight the urge to pick him up and squeeze him in a greatful hug, the sounds he made while he nuzzled into you squeezed your heart more making you smile and coo at him. It took while but soon Jogo had told you his name was Dagon, not liking the sound of you just referring to Dagon as just “him, octo baby, or squishy baby” feeling it was degrading or lowering his value”💀 In all honesty Dagon loved being your Squishy Baby when you squeezed and hugged him.

You had become great friends with the sea curse and he loved to make himself much smaller if it meant you would hold onto him and cuddle him by the fire at night squeezing him in hugs at random times while talking with everyone else, which lead to you one day in the middle of a conversation turning to Hanami, she turned to look at you also at the same him, you smiled at her resting your cheek against Dagon’s round head and he made a cooing sound. The fire illuminated the sand around all three of you “Hanami, you don’t talk much but that’s okay, if you ever have something you wanna say or do I’d love to be the first.”

You watched as she did her best to smile, in a way it was endearing, without knowing you words to Hanami were endearing in a way she didn’t understand in that moment. But if you were really willing to listen to her maybe she’d take the chance, she remembers when Jogo once yelled at her to stop talking it’s weird even if they could understand. Then she only spoke when necessary. Until one day she found you messing with some flowers in the islands woodys parts, she watched how you pouted talking to the dying flowers, trying to water them. you jumped hearing her “Those flowers won’t live here, they’re not made for sandy soil, these would be better.” Form her finger a bloom raised and flowers started to over take the open space, you snapped back to look at her, “Hanami! That’s amazing! Can you show me more?” She looked at you a light blush on her skin, “Of course.”

The shock on Jogo’s dropped jaw was a sight Mahito couldn’t help but lose it at as Geri Chuckled, he had seen you laying in a plush flower bed holding up a bloom, the top of Hanami’s head met yours as she laid, she was explains her curses technique all while rising arches of different flowers over you like a canopy, you awed and complimented her on her ability and the choice of flowers, slowly it changed to you asking about her interests in foliage and flowers, you both talked for hours until the sky behind the open canopy turned dark and you fell asleep listening to her talk about floral meanings, waking up with a yellow rose in your hands and a soft smile

But It didn’t take long, it took FORVER for Jogo to realize maybe just maybe there could possibly maybe perhaps be a smaalll little bit of space he could offer… only if it’s absolutely necessary

😒 this is Jogo when he starts to think about it and catches himself

The day Geto brought you home he was so opposed to it saying humans are disgusting and indecisive incapable of understanding true emotion. He went on and one and to top it off saying they would never be able to trust you, if you were like other humans what made them think you wouldn’t turn on them?

A month passed of Jogo watching warily as you toyed and played with Dagon slowly he found himself smiling when you’d laugh and drop into the water to smother Dagon with affection, he noted how Dagon on ocasión would “find” a particularly shiny and perfect shell just to call you over to gift it to you, noting how Dagon would smile with closed eyes and hum when you’d lift him to squeeze him kissing his little head 🥹 Jogo almost forgetting you were human with how well you could exist within them, smiling faintly thinking, “what if… i ” before he’d quickly shake his head clear, no you were human after all, there was no guarantee you weren’t just trying to snake your way in… yet there he sat on his sun chair smoking from his pipe watching you, the thoughts in his brain scrambling as he lost thought on you again.

It didn’t take long for Jogo to notice how you’d trail after Hanami asking questions and talking and pointing out random things, suspicious of what you were doing he decided to casually follow along one day when you pulled Hanami with you into the forest. Hanami was listing “Orange Fascination, Yellow Friendship, White for New Love or Innocence, Peach for Gratitude or Sincerity, Cream for thoughtfulness..” Hanami Trailed off head turning a bit in Jogo’s “discreet” location, just as she was about so say something you nodded do you think.. you can help me than?” She turned back to you, “I would do anything to help…” there was a pause before she nodded “To help a friend.” Your smile and laugh had her attempting to smile also, it was endearing, a sight that had Jogo smiling faintly, he started his walk back thinking, feeling heat on his face.

The times you’d spent with him he thought nothing of, the times where he’d get hurt and was only able to wait for his body to fix its self, there you were using an advanced cursed technique that had been refined over generations. Enjoying the way you’d scold and argue with Mahito only to win when Mahito would start babbling on idiotically risking the entire operation. Greatfull the few times you’d recovered Sukuna’s fingers, even fearful when you came close to death on multiple occasions, there he was assisting you, liking the attention you’d often pretend you were to weak to heal yourself, and reluctantly after battling himself he’d use his over coat to wrap around you to keep you secure as he’d carry you bridal style or on his back all the way home to ensure you didn’t wear yourself out, always denying it if someone asked or poked. He stopped, watching Dagon float around in the water, bringing a hand to clench his chest he felt a hard thrum in his chest and throat. It was quick and unsettling.

“What is this?”he swallowed trying to calm his heart (idk if he actually has one but he does now) He sat down on the foot of a sun chair lost in thought, hand still holding his chest.

“Sincerity is impossible unless it pervades the whole being, and the pretense of it saps the very foundation of character ya know.” Your voice scared Jogo from the thoughts he was having.

“Sincerity,” Jogo didn’t look at you staring off, “What do you feel y/n? Is what you feel for Dagon and Hanami in sincerity?”

Sitting down next to him you squinted slightly where the sea met the sky. “No one can ever be convinced even if I explain every reason with sincerity, no one understands or takes seriously someone else’s sufferings until they die. As long as you live people can and maybe will only ever doubt you. The only right you have with anyone is to their distrust… but with Hanami and Dagon. They don’t have a reason to lie or put up fronts, speaking honestly, I do feel a sincerity for both of them. I wouldn’t lie to them and what i feel with them isn’t a lie or a front to pretend everything is alright. I like their company, it beats sitting with another person whose emotions are so complex you never know when they feel like lying when there’s sincerity behind their eyes or is it just a look of a deceiving man… it’s like you Jogo, I’ve never had a reason to lie or even try to get in your good graces. But your personality, even when you get a bit explosive with Mahito, I like seeing the raw emotion because it means you’re not hiding what you feel.” You looked down at the sand, Jogo turned to look at you, “These are for you.” You lifted a small bouquet of roses and he looked at them, “Peach Roses for sincerity and Cream for Thoughtfulness.” Was all you said, he took it reluctantly, was this why you wanted Hanami’s help?

No other words were said between the two of you, but the shift in the air was evident, you smiled and Jogo looked away, “wanna go for a walk with me?” You stood up, Jogo standing beside you, the flowers left behind on the chair as you both started to casually walk and talk of what could be. Of course Dagon who had a front row tide pool seat rushed to tell Hanami how Jogo and you went on to talk after giving him flowers~

🥹 sorry this went on so long but I really really got caught up in “if only~” 🤭

[miabrown007]

Felonies and Other Love Languages

Adrien Agreste: rich, lonely, freshly aware of the fact that he's expected to take over not a fashion, but a drug empire. Marinette Dupain-Cheng: broke, angry, freshly aware of the fact that bringing down drug empires is a blast. But where would she be without her team, Alya and Nino, and her very good friend, Luka? Not to mention the team’s newest addition, the kind, the funny, the ultra charming Chat Noir. If Marinette likes him, that’s alright, though. It isn’t like she’s dating Adrien Agreste for real. It’s all just part of her ten-step plan to make the Agrestes meet their demise.

Chapter 3 - Pandora’s Box (12,708 words, 3/32 chapters)

Adrien would like to walk along the edge of the curb with his arms outstretched. Like he used to when his mother was there, her palm hovering a breath away from his, ready to catch him anytime.

Instead, he scurries between patches of light on the crushed stone path of Place des Vosges. He doesn't understand why being late fazes him.

He shouldn’t even be here.

He should be up at the office, checking the CCTV footage with Kim to notify the police about the break-in. Or he should be at dinner, informing his father about today’s mishap. He shouldn’t be sneaking out under the disguise of meeting Chloé for drinks. And he definitely shouldn’t, under any circumstances, be searching for Carapace’s hooded figure in the shadows of the park.

In his head, Adrien knows that. But he follows his heart. And his heart rounds a corner with a leap, only to come to a halt in front of a well-lit fountain.

“I thought you wouldn’t come,” Carapace says, his eyes shining brightly over his green facemask. He has his arms crossed over his chest in what seems to be a futile attempt at keeping himself warm in the spring chill, dressed in nothing but a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles T-shirt.

Adrien doesn’t hold back his grin. With his own mask in place, it’s not like Carapace can see it. “You know what they say about curiosity and the cat.”

It’s a stupid joke, but if he made up a cat-themed persona for himself, he intends to commit to the bit. Plagg would surely be proud of him. (Even if, realistically speaking, Adrien knows that house cats, much like fathers, are never actually proud. Still, he likes to pretend that what they share is special and goes beyond owning a Blue Ribbon pedigree.)

“You expect you’re walking into your doom and still show up? Admirable,” Carapace chuckles, unaware of the truth those words actually hold. “Now come on, the others are waiting for us. I promise we don’t bite.” He starts on one of the paths leading out of the park, muttering under his nose, “Well, most of us.”

Adrien decides he doesn't actually want to know what Carapace means by that. In his hurry to catch up, the gravel almost slips out from under Adrien’s sneakers, but by some miracle—or years and years of athletic training—he keeps himself upright. “What did you say, who are these people we are meeting?”

The light of a street lamp glinting in Carapace’s glasses as he spares Adrien a glance. “I didn’t.”

It’s more than fair to receive the same non-answer to his question as Adrien had given earlier that day. Still, his chuckle is nervous. He fights the fidgety feeling that urges him to double check that the GPS on his phone is switched on.

“Don’t stress about it, they are friends,” Carapace adds in a softer tone as they exit the park on the northern side and stop in the shadow of the arcades. “We’re almost there, so I’ll have to ask you to put this on,” he says, handing Adrien a baby blue knitted scarf.

“There’s a dress code? This place must be really fancy,” Adrien laughs as he takes the piece of fabric and wraps it around his neck.

Carapace blinks at him, twice, before a chuckle leaves him too. “No, it’s— It’s for your eyes, actually. Just a precaution until we know we can trust you.”

Thank god it’s pitch dark and he can’t see the way Adrien flushes.

“Yeah, I— I knew that. Obviously!”

With much more reluctant motions, he re-ties the scarf around his eyes. He had considered swapping his contacts for glasses—for the sake of an even less Adrien Agreste™-looking disguise—but now he’s glad he’d dropped the idea. Blindfolding himself with them on would be a pain. Actually, merely existing with glasses and a facemask on is a pain, as Adrien was forced to discover this afternoon after much experimenting with the concept.

So, contacts, and anxiety over being only fashionably late it was.

“Sorry, it’s part of the protocol. Let me spin you right round here for a second,” Carapace says, his voice lighthearted. He grabs Adrien by the shoulders and turns him around a few times, until he has no idea what is up and what is down. “Thank you for choosing the Rena Rouge entertainment park, we hope you had a good time,” he says, in the worst imitation of a carnival pitchman.

Still, it somewhat eases the knot in Adrien’s stomach that’s as tight as Nathalie’s hairdo on any given day.

“And now, this way. We’re almost there,” Carapace says, grabbing his upper arm and guiding him forward.

The irony of their first meeting going almost exactly like this—only with their roles reversed—isn’t lost on Adrien, but at this point, he just follows the instructions. He's pretty good at that.

Losing his sight serves to draw his attention to his other senses. He’s acutely aware of the silence stretching between them, the noises of cars and buzzing electric advertisements on shops’ façades.

The pavement under his feet takes a sharp turn, and the city’s noises melt into the background, signalling their approaching arrival. Adrien can’t decide if that or his still spinning head is the reason he feels like he’s going to throw up his supper.

“Who is Rena Rouge?” he asks, despite his nausea.

The beam is evident in Carapace’s voice, even over the sound of a door opening and closing behind them. “Oh, Rena Rouge? Just the most amazing, passionate, talented girl in the whole wide world, who, coincidentally, also makes the best colombo.”

"Your girlfriend?" Adrien guesses.

"For the time being," a cheeky voice slices through the vanilla and pastry-flavoured air.

Carapace comes to a sudden halt. "Hey, what‘s that supposed to mean?"

"Well,” presumably-Rena Rouge says, “we are getting married sometime in the future, aren't we?"

"That's like, the worst way to put that, babe," he argues but laughs along nevertheless.

There’s another giggle, one that eases the trembling of Adrien’s stomach. "Um, guys. The plan."

"Right, the plan!" Rena Rouge confirms, as if she has completely forgotten they are, indeed, in the middle of something that is starting to feel suspiciously like a hostage situation.

Adrien, who at this point would really like to see his surroundings, shifts on his feet. "So, what's the plan?"

Suddenly, someone removes his scarf, two bluebell eyes staring into his soul. "You are the plan, Chat Noir!"

[read the whole chapter on AO3]