#and someone interjected with it and started a whole bit before bed

[sepiasys]

Really strange to have woken up and being going back to sleep (bc it's necessary) only to have like the wildest internal interactions taking place. And also to somehow get the phantom sensation of WEARING GLASSES of all things??? THAT one was actually strange.

[mrspiastri]

✩ feels like P1 🏆

pairing: oscar piastri x desi!reader

cw: fluff, mentions of australia 2025 (😔)

wc: 4k words

an: based on this lovely request, and in honour of osc being the wdc leader 😁😁😁😁😁

Oscar had just begun his third season in Formula 1, and he was more pumped than anyone could imagine. He had the fastest car, the best strategies, the quickest team, and most importantly the most valuable teammate.

To anyone else, it would have been simple to see that he would win the WDC this year, however Oscar Piastri was everything but overconfident.

He knew he wanted this year to be perfect, from start to finish, he wanted to win all 24 races if possible, and win all the sprints, and start on pole for every single race.

Unfortunately, he had some tough competition, and he knew better than to relax. He spent the first two weeks of winter break shuttling from Bahrain to Woking, and after that flew straight to Melbourne, to spend the holidays with his family.

Of course, Y/N had opted to fly to Australia in advance, so she could wait for Oscar, and also because she wanted to spend time with the family. They welcomed her with open arms, as they always did.

She spent her summer days relaxing on the beaches in St. Kilda, and making sure she didn’t get bit by a spider. However, she still missed her boyfriend.

The very boyfriend who was Facetiming her from his hotel room in Bahrain.

“You know Osc, with the amount you call me, someone would think you’re going through withdrawals,” She commented as she snuggled into the sheets of Oscar’s childhood bedroom, the same room she loved because it showed her what her boyfriend was like before they met.

“Very funny, God forbid I miss my own girlfriend.” Oscar grumbled as he laid back on the bed, hair damp from a shower— with what, according to Y/N, seemed to be a towel around his waist.

“Did you call just to be dramatic?”

“No… I called because I miss you. Like, really miss you. Like, I physically cannot sleep on this hotel pillow because it doesn’t smell like you. And it’s too quiet. And I tried making chai with the tea bags in the hotel room and it tasted sad.”

Y/N tried her hardest to stifle her grin, as she pouted in sadness on his behalf. “Oh, you poor baby.”

“I am a poor baby, and I need you to do that thing you do where you scratch behind my ear when I’m half-asleep.”

“That reminds me, I did the same thing to Basil today, and she was asleep in less than a minute!” Y/N giggled as she informed her only slightly amused boyfriend.

“Are you telling me I’m no different than a dog?”

“No, but if the shoe fits…”

“That’s it I’m ending the call,” Oscar couldn’t hide the smile on his face as he pretended to be mad at Y/N.

“Aww come on Osc, let me see you when you’re all freshly washed. The no-shirt look is really doing it for me.”

“You’re such a perv sometimes, you know that.”

She only laughed in response, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.

“Your shirt’s really nice, that green looks good on you,” he commented.

“I should hope it looks good, it’s yours.”

Oscar’s eyes widen, and he squints them a bit to really focus on the details of her clothing.

“What? I only have like three t-shirts I own, the white one, the black one, and my maroon one. Not counting my McLaren kit.”

“Yeah you idiot, it’s from the home race collection. The folks at OP81 merch sent a package over to your Mum’s house.”

He sat up straighter, eyes relaxing as he let himself admire how she looked on his screen.

“Well, show me how it looks,” he requested, bossy as ever.

“I already did, you just saw it.” Y/N interjected.

“Give me a proper look, with the whole twirl and everything.”

Y/N groaned in mock annoyance.

“Only if you say please.”

A sigh.

“Please.”

“No, say it properly, the whole sentence.”

“Please, show me the outfit.”

“Noo! Say it properly, like you mean it!”

Another sigh, longer this time.

“Please darling, show me your outfit.”

“Alright, since you asked so nicely. And wipe that smirk off your face, Piastri.”

Y/N stood up, balancing her phone carefully so Oscar could get a full view. With an exaggerated sigh, she did a slow twirl.

“There,” she said. “Happy?”

Oscar’s grin spread across his face. “Extremely. You look unfairly good in my stuff.”

“I know,” she replied, flopping back onto the bed. “It’s a gift.”

She tugged the hem of the shirt down over her bare thighs as she got comfortable again.

Oscar narrowed his eyes a bit. “Are you even wearing shorts?”

Raising a brow, she gave him a smug look. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Y/N,” he warned.

She burst into laughter. “Relax, I am.”

Oscar leaned back against the hotel headboard, arms crossed, lips twitching in amusement. “Still unfair. I leave for two days and suddenly you’re raiding my wardrobe like it’s your birthright.”

“To be fair,” she said, “I only took one shirt. And it’s not raiding if we live together.”

“It’s raiding when you steal the best-looking one.”

“You’d rather I take the ugly one?”

“No. I’d rather you wear it when I’m there to appreciate it properly.”

She smirked, settling back into her pillow and letting the phone rest on her stomach.

“You’re being dramatic again.”

“You knew what you were doing,” Oscar accused, eyes narrowing playfully. “Answering my FaceTime like that, casually pretending you didn’t know it was my shirt.”

“Caught red-handed.”

“You’re evil.”

“Whatever,” she said, “you still miss me like crazy.”

Oscar groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “So much it’s actually embarrassing. Travelling anywhere sucks when you’re not with me.”

“You say that like you’re not there driving one of the fastest cars on the planet.”

“Yeah, and still nothing tops coming home and finding you in my shirt, hair all messy, acting like it’s just another Tuesday.”

She blinked, a little caught off guard by how warm his voice had gotten. He had his ways of making her feel special,

without even realising what he was doing.

“Oscar…”

He shrugged, quieter now. “Just saying. Save that shirt for when I get back, yeah?”

She smiled, teasing again. “Only if you have the best lap times.”

“Wow. Blackmail.”

“Motivation.”

He laughed, eyes lingering on her a second longer before nodding.

“Deal.”

🪻🪻🪻

The house was unusually quiet.

Even with the buzz of Oscar’s family around, his mum fussing with teacups, his sisters glancing occasionally at the shows playing on the television, there was a stillness in the air. No one spoke much. The energy was muted, heavy in a way only a home crowd disappointment could bring.

Oscar had finished P9. Not bad, considering his slippage in the grass. But not what he or the country had hoped for, not after a weekend that had started so strong.

He was still at the track, locked in media obligations and debriefs, and Y/N could already imagine the weight of it all pressing down on his shoulders.

She stood up from the couch, tugging her sleeves down over her hands. “I’m gonna make something. He’s probably not eaten properly.”

Nicole looked up. “That’s a good idea, darling. What were you thinking?”

“Khichdi,” Y/N said, already heading toward the kitchen. “It’s what I usually make when he’s drained. He likes it more than he’ll admit.”

Nicole smiled softly, rinsing out her mug and moving aside so Y/N could work. “Something warm and simple sounds perfect.”

She knew his comfort foods by heart now.

Not toasties or chips or anything overly greasy, no, not tonight. He needed warmth. Reassurance. Something that felt like being wrapped in a hug.

So she went with what he always asked for on days he was sick or just tired of the world: khichdi. Soft rice and lentils, simmered with ghee, turmeric, a little cumin, and a side of spiced potatoes the way he liked them.

It was also the simplest thing she could make quickly, since the excitement of race week didn’t let them go grocery shopping for fancy ingredients.

Y/N pulled her hair into a ponytail, washed her hands, and opened the pantry. She moved quickly, finding the rice, the lentils, the spices; already laying them out on the counter.

Hattie padded into the kitchen and perched on a stool. “Do you need help? Or moral support? I’m very good at taste-testing.”

Y/N chuckled, setting the dal to soak. “You can peel the potatoes.”

“On it,” Hattie said, dragging a chopping board toward her and grabbing a peeler. “Oscar’s going to cry when he sees this. Bet on it.”

While the dal and rice soaked, Y/N got a pan going with ghee, mustard seeds, a few curry leaves, all of which she had picked up from her own stash brought over from home. The smell began to fill the room, earthy and warm.

Nicole drifted over and leaned against the counter, watching her with quiet admiration. “He’s really lucky, you know.”

Y/N smiled without looking up. “I think I’m the lucky one. He puts up with me.”

Nicole scoffed. “You’re cooking for him and putting up with his post-race sulking. That’s love.”

As the khichdi began to simmer, she threw in turmeric, a bit of grated ginger, salt, and cumin. She stirred slowly, letting it thicken, the grains softening into the kind of texture that wrapped around you like a blanket. Meanwhile, Hattie finished the potatoes and helped toss them in oil and spices, sliding them into the oven with a grin.

“Do I get a Michelin star now?” Hattie asked.

“You get points for not setting anything on fire,” Y/N teased.

Nicole pulled out a couple of plates and laid them out on the table as the final touches came together.

By the time the front door opened and the sound of Oscar’s keys hit the bowl by the entrance, the kitchen was filled with the golden scent of comfort and home.

The khichdi was ready, the potatoes crispy at the edges, and the quiet heaviness of the house had softened just a bit, thanks to turmeric, ghee, and the shared rhythm of care.

Oscar stepped inside as she was dishing out his portion. He looked exhausted. The weight of the day clung to him like a second skin. His cap was low over his forehead, eyes duller than usual.

He blinked as he stepped into the kitchen.

“You cooked?” His voice was rough, caught somewhere between surprise and something else. Something softer.

Y/N smiled, placing the bowl on the table. “Of course I did. You look like you need a hug and a hot meal.”

Nicole gave him a kiss on the cheek as she passed, and Hattie patted his back before stealing one of the roasted potatoes off his plate.

“Khichdi?” he asked, eyes fixed on the bowl.

“Yeah,” Y/N said, gently. “And potatoes. Sit. Eat.”

Oscar closed the gap between them in two quick steps and wrapped his arms around her, burying his face in her shoulder. He smelled like the track, sweat, heat; and now like home.

“You’re the best part of this whole weekend,” he murmured against her neck.

Y/N kissed the side of his head and squeezed him tighter.

“You’ll get the win here one day. You know that, right?”

He didn’t answer right away, just held her like he needed to remember what grounding felt like.

“I know,” he said quietly.

“And until then,” she whispered, “you’ve got a girl who’ll keep your tummy full and your ego in check.”

He huffed a laugh, finally pulling back just enough to look at her properly.

“God, I love you.”

She smiled. “I know. Now eat before your food gets cold.”

He tugged her into one last hug before taking his seat, already reaching for his spoon with a familiar sort of hunger.

As she sat down beside him, Oscar laced their fingers under the table.

🪻🪻🪻

The only things audible were low hum of the fridge, the occasional swishing of the dishwasher, and the soft clink of cutlery as Oscar finished off the last of the potatoes directly from the tray.

Y/N was curled up on the couch, one leg tucked beneath her, the same oversized green OP81 shirt falling lazily off one shoulder. Her hair was still in that loose bun, a little messier now from the steam of cooking and leaning against the cushions.

Oscar walked in with two mugs of hot chocolate, handing her one before sinking beside her. His eyes lingered on her for a moment, brow quirking.

“You know,” he said, “I just realised something.”

She looked over at him with mock suspicion. “That’s never a good sign.”

He ignored her, gesturing toward her shirt. “That’s the same one you wore when we were on call. The FaceTime from Bahrain.”

Y/N glanced down at herself, trying to fight the smile tugging at her lips. “Is it?”

“You knew it was,” he said, narrowing his eyes at her, a faint smile playing on his lips. “You’re so annoying.”

She sipped her tea innocently. “I just like the colour.”

Oscar gave her a knowing look, then leaned in a bit closer, his voice dropping to something gentler. “You look really cute in it.”

Y/N’s cheeks flushed just a little, but she tilted her head, keeping up her act. “Just cute?”

He gave a low hum, setting his mug down on the coffee table.

“No,” he said simply, his eyes scanning over her. “You look really good in my clothes. They look way too hot on you.”

Y/N’s smirk faltered for half a second, and she looked away, half-hiding behind her mug. “You’re being dramatic again.”

“Am I?” he asked, nudging her foot with his. “You think I forgot the way you sat there on call, pretending like you didn’t know it was my shirt, driving me absolutely insane right after a shower?”

She laughed, lowering her mug. “Hey I was too busy admiring the view you were showing me, besides I thought you needed motivation.”

Oscar leaned back, arm stretched out along the back of the couch, fingertips barely brushing her shoulder.

“I don’t need motivation,” he said softly. “I just need to come home to this. To you.”

That time, her smile dropped for real, replaced with something quieter, something warm.

“Good,” she murmured, setting her tea aside and curling into his side, “because I’m not giving your shirts back.”

Oscar rested his cheek against the top of her head, letting out a quiet breath.

“I was hoping you wouldn’t.”

🪻🪻🪻

Oscar sat still, one arm around Y/N, the other resting limply on his lap. Her head was tucked beneath his chin now, breathing slow, and her fingers absently tracing little circles over the fabric of his hoodie.

Outside, the street was quiet. Melbourne’s chaos had finally settled. Inside, the only thing louder than the ticking clock in the hallway was his own thoughts.

P9.

It had stung more than he expected.

He’d pushed, taken risks, held his breath more times than he could count. The home crowd, the roar in Turn 1, the endless pressure of this weekend. He wanted a podium. He wanted more than points. And when he crossed the line, all he felt was this dull, aching hollowness.

Because he wanted to win, for the team, for the fans, for his family.

For her.

Oscar closed his eyes briefly. He remembered the sound of God Save The King echoing as Lando stepped up to the top step. The taste of disappointment, how it clung to the back of his throat during interviews. The polite claps. The fake smile. The crushing feeling of not being good enough on the one track that felt like home.

But then he came home.

And she had made him khichdi.

Warm, soft, comforting. Just like her.

She didn’t try to fix it with words. She didn’t tell him he should be proud or that P9 was still good. She just handed him a plate and looked at him like he wasn’t a result. Like he wasn’t someone the world measured in lap times.

He glanced down at her again, heart clenching a little.

Y/N. With her soft hair and stolen shirts and quiet affection. The way she could command a kitchen but still act coy when he told her she looked good. How she knew exactly what to say, and more importantly, when not to say anything at all.

She’d rooted herself into his life so naturally, so completely, that he couldn’t remember what comfort looked like without her in it.

It wasn’t just that she made things better.

It was that she was the better.

🪻🪻🪻

Y/N was rambling about a movie she’d half-watched on the flight back to Melbourne. Something about a chaotic rom-com with bad pacing and good outfits. She talked with her hands when she was animated, her eyes lighting up even though she clearly didn’t care that much about the plot.

Oscar barely registered the words. His eyes were fixed on her mouth, the soft curve of her lips, the way she bit the inside of her cheek while trying to remember an actor’s name. She was glowing in the low, warm light of the living room, sitting cross-legged on the couch like she had belonged there forever.

And it hit him, like a crash he couldn’t brace for.

He loved her. Fully. Wildly. In a way that went straight to the pit of his stomach and made it hard to breathe.
It wasn’t a slow build. It was immediate. Overwhelming.
Undeniable.

And he couldn’t hold it back.

She was mid-sentence, something about the main character making a terrible decision; when he leaned in, cupping her jaw gently, eyes searching hers for only a heartbeat before he kissed her.

It was soft at first, just the brush of his mouth against hers. She stilled, surprised, hands caught in the air between them. But then he pressed in closer, kissing her properly. Deeper. Like he needed it. Like he’d been holding it back for days, weeks, maybe longer.

His hand slipped to the back of her neck, thumb brushing behind her ear as he tilted his head, letting the kiss turn warmer, fuller. She melted into him easily, fingers fisting the fabric of his t-shirt, lips parting under his as the kiss grew heavier. Hungrier.

Her breath hitched when he pulled her closer, one knee shifting so their bodies aligned more naturally. He kissed her like he was telling her everything he couldn’t yet say. With so much care it ached. With so much want it left her dizzy.

When he finally pulled back, he stayed close, forehead resting against hers, both of them catching their breath.

She blinked at him, dazed. “What was that for?”

Oscar didn’t answer right away. He just looked at her. Really looked. Eyes soft, lips swollen from the kiss, cheeks slightly flushed.

“Marry me.”

Everything in the room seemed to freeze. Her breath caught. Her fingers, still clinging to the front of his t-shirt, went limp.

She blinked. “What?”

Oscar leaned back just slightly, eyes still holding hers, but a crooked, sheepish smile tugged at the corner of his lips now. “Not now,” he clarified quickly, his thumb brushing over her wrist in slow reassurance. “I mean… eventually. Not this second, not tomorrow. But, marry me. Someday.”

Y/N opened her mouth. Closed it again. She didn’t know what to say. Her brain was moving too fast, heart thudding loud in her ears.

He rushed on, gentle but urgent, as if trying to give her all the space in the world while still holding her close.

“I know it sounds insane, I do. And I didn’t plan to say it tonight, I swear. I just…” He exhaled, voice softening. “I love you so much it actually hurts. I didn’t even care that I came P9 today, not after seeing you. And when I kissed you just now, I couldn’t stop thinking how I wanted to keep coming home to you for the rest of my life. That’s all. That’s it.”

Y/N’s lips parted again, and this time, a small breath of laughter slipped out; shaky, surprised, but full of warmth. Her eyes glittered, tears threatening to rise, and she shook her head in disbelief.

“You’re such a dramatic loser,” she whispered, smiling through it.

Oscar grinned. “I know. But I meant every word.”

She leaned forward again, pressing her forehead to his, the tips of their noses brushing.

“You love me,” she said softly, like she was testing the weight of it.

“I do.”

“And you want to marry me.”

“Desperately.”

Y/N’s smile turned into a quiet laugh, and her hands slid up his chest slowly, curling around the back of his neck.

“Yeah,” she whispered. “Someday, I’ll marry you.”

Oscar’s eyes fluttered shut, and he exhaled in quiet relief, arms wrapping around her waist as he pulled her in again.

🪻🪻🪻

Later that night, the house had gone quiet. Oscar’s family had all turned in for the night, leaving only the soft hum of the city outside and the rustle of blankets as the two of them settled into bed.

Y/N was already curled under the duvet, still wearing his shirt, like it had always belonged to her. Oscar joined her a moment later, flicking off the bedside lamp, the room now lit only by the soft glow from the hallway.

He slipped under the covers, letting out a sigh as he stretched out beside her. After a moment, he shifted closer, tugging her into his chest with one arm thrown lazily around her waist.

She hummed, tucking her face into the curve of his neck. “You’re clingy tonight.”

“I’m traumatised,” he muttered, voice muffled in her hair.

She laughed quietly. “You’ll win in Shanghai, I promise.”

Oscar grinned against her. “I better, or I might get fired.”

A moment of comfortable silence passed. Then Oscar sat up slightly and peeled his shirt off with one smooth motion, tossing it off the side of the bed.

Y/N raised a brow in the dark, lips twitching.

“Oh? And what’s this about?” she asked, feigning innocence.

“It’s hot,” he said simply, lying back down and pulling her into him again. “And I sleep shirtless. You know that.”

“Convenient excuse,” she teased, fingers tracing lightly over his now bare chest. “What if I get hot too?”

Before she could reply, he was already sliding his hands up under the hem of the shirt she wore—his shirt—fingers warm and familiar. She let out a small gasp, half surprised and half amused, as he smoothly tugged it over her head and tossed it aside to join his on the floor.

Now she sat in just her bra, blinking at him in the low light. “Oscar!”

He was grinning shamelessly. “What? You said you might get hot.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

“You said yes to marrying me, get used to it,” he reminded her smugly, leaning in to kiss her cheek.

“Regretting it already.”

“Liar.”

Y/N sighed dramatically, then nestled into his side, her bare shoulder against his warm skin.

He pressed a soft kiss to her temple, holding her close again. This time, no more teasing, just comfort. Just quiet. Just them.

Wrapped up in each other, skin warm under soft sheets, hearts still thudding from everything they'd said, and everything that was still to come.

And for the first time in days, Oscar slept like he hadn’t finished P9.

He slept like he’d already won.

No cheers, no champagne, no trophy this time; but for now, this was enough.

this was written while i was blasting my clairo playlist so please excuse the excessive yearning in this. also oscar piastri wdc 2025, spread the word. and as always you can request a prompt from my list if you liked this!

[steveslevis]

delicate - chapter one

is it too soon to do this yet?

pairing: steve harrington x reader

chapter contents: singular mention of abuse & mentions of a shitty ex, mentions of violence, not much happening yet just lots of lead up <33

wc: 3.5k

a/n: first chapter!! i'm actually so excited for this i love it so much <3 hope you all enjoy!

The smell of coffee hits your nose as you slowly wake, the feeling of sun beaming in through a nearby window makes you squint and roll over, trying to avoid waking up for as long as possible. 

Sleeping a little bit longer would be possible if it weren’t for the clanking of a pan and spatula a few feet away from your head. It’s in that moment that you become painfully aware that you’re on a cheap, cold leather couch and not in your normal, warm and cozy bed. You only groan and flop onto your stomach at the sound, hastily grabbing the pillow that was under your head in order to cover your ears and muffle the loud banging while trying not to think too hard about the situation you were in. 

“Am I being that loud?” you hear a voice call across the room from beneath your pillow.

“I don’t think so, someone is just cranky and a light sleeper,” another voice says with a laugh, this one coming from closer to you, just before you feel the couch dip near your head.

You uncover your head at that remark, finally looking up from your spot on the couch to see your best friend, Eddie sitting beside you with a smug smirk on his face while his boyfriend, Alexander, was starting breakfast in the kitchen just behind you. 

“None of those allegations are true, thank you very much,” you say matter-of-factly, sitting up while wrapping your blanket around your shoulders, “I just would’ve liked a little more sleep than I got, but your uncomfortable ass leather couch decided otherwise.” 

Eddie only rolls his eyes and shakes his head, extending a mug full of fresh coffee your way. You give him a knowing look before taking it, eyes falling to the liquid in the cup, making sure it’s to your liking – even though you know Eddie knows exactly how to make your coffee at home, with just enough creamer to drown out the burnt taste from the cheap drip. 

You can feel your best friend’s eyes on you as you take the first sip, unspoken tension holding in the air as you avoid his gaze. Eddie notices how you look like you barely got an ounce of sleep, just like the four nights before when you’d slept on his couch. The leather couch is partly to blame for your lack of sleep, but you and him both know that the thoughts of your now ex boyfriend is what’s really keeping you up at night. He knows you went to see him last night, so you definitely got not a minute of sleep. His eyes shift towards Alexander for a moment, who shoots Eddie a knowing glare, encouraging him to talk to you.

“So,” he says while clearing his throat, “what’s on your agenda for today?”

“Eds – you really don’t have to keep up with the pity small talk,” you say with a small laugh and a genuine, but sad smile, “you can ask me, I’ll tell you what happened.”

“Babes, I’m not gonna ask about that piece of shit if you don’t want to talk about it –”

“We’re done, Eddie.” you interject, a sad yet relieved look washing over your face as you finally say it out loud, “We talked and decided that no contact was for the best.”

“You’re telling me that Luke, that insufferable asshole who rarely ever let you get a word in and tried to control you in every sense, had a civil conversation about breaking up and agreed on no contact?” Eddie says with an incredulous glare in your direction.

Shit. You were lying straight through your teeth and got caught immediately. You should’ve just told him the whole truth, how you got yelled at for two hours straight about how you were such a slut, how you would never find someone half as good as him, and how he’s the reason you’re wearing a hoodie to cover up the bruises on your forearms from Luke’s drunken grip. But you knew better, you knew telling Eddie even half of the truth would end with someone in the hospital — and it probably wouldn’t be him.

“Okay, maybe that’s not exactly how it went, but that doesn’t matter.” you shrug, shaking your head before taking another chug of coffee, “What does matter is that I am single and in desperate need of somewhere to live, so my search starts today —“

You reach for your laptop that sits on the coffee table in front of you, but Eddie swats your hand away, giving you another glare. 

“You’re not gonna find anything for one person that’s reasonable anywhere around here, babes.” Alexander calls out from behind you while battling with a sizzling pan of bacon.

“He’s right,” Eddie replies, his face twisting into a look of genuine concern, “why don’t you just, you know, like I said before, live here? This dump is rent controlled and two bedrooms, I don’t need an entire office for playing guitar and planning DnD campaigns, y’know.”

“No—No way am I gonna continue to mooch off you and live here! You guys have done too much already, I can’t ask that of you too,” you shake your head quickly, a frown spreading quickly across your lips as you furrow your brow. 

The room falls quiet as you shake your head, both boys staring back at you while you fight back tears you didn’t know were forming. You blink quickly and sniffle before looking back to Eddie, forcing a smile onto your lips to convince him that you’ll be okay.

“Are you sure?” Eddie asks, this time in a quieter, calmer voice.

“Yes, I’m sure. I’ll find somewhere to go, I’ll be fine.” you assure him.

“Will—Will you at least try to look for new jobs before you move?” Eddie begs, knowing you continuing to work as a bartender at the same bar Luke is a bouncer at would only cause trouble. “At least at a bar that’s a little nicer, where you can get good tips?”

“Yes, Eds. I’ll start looking for new jobs today,” you say with a small smile.

—————————————

Your eyes are tired and dry, your hands are sore from the amount of typing and scrolling you’ve been doing. All in the name of a job search, which was proving to be damn near impossible. Every coffee shop with an online application seemed to have a broken portal or no available positions, even the library and gym on campus had nothing for grabs.

There were probably fifty different tabs open on your laptop now, and you were close to giving up for the day. It was almost 5 pm at this point, and nothing was giving any positive signs. You were hungry and in need of time outside or you might end up going stir crazy.

So with a sigh, you begin to close all fifty tabs on your screen to spare your sanity. 

Forty-nine tabs later, you’re left with one Indeed tab open in front of you. Before you close it out, a listing at the bottom catches your eye. You blink once to clear your glazed over eyes, leaning in to read its description.

The link reads, “HELP NEEDED: Full-Time Nanny in Manhattan wanted! Rent, meals and transportation included along with weekly salary. Please contact the following number with serious inquires only.” 

You couldn’t believe what you were reading, it all seemed way too good to be true. Nobody in their right mind would fall for something like this, you thought. But, you didn’t feel like you were in your right mind, anyways. 

You click on the link and it takes you to a simple Indeed page. The page itself was bare, only the description from the previous page along with a phone number next to the lister’s name, Steve Harrington.

“Find anything good?” a voice booms in your ear from behind.

You jump nearly a foot in the air at the voice, turning around quickly to swat Eddie in the shoulder for startling you like that.

“Ow!” 

“Asshole,” you mumble, rolling your eyes at him as you try to hide a smile. 

“I guess I deserve that.” he says with a laugh. 

Eddie throws himself onto the couch next to you as you turn your attention back to the computer in front of you. He cranes his neck enough to read what’s on the screen, furrowing his brow as he reads the job listing.

“Well that seems like a dud. Too suspicious, not enough description.” Eddie murmurs, shaking his head.

You look at him, then back to your computer, then back to your best friend. He’s going to kill you for even thinking about it, you know it. But you can’t help but be curious about the whole situation, especially when it seems like too good of a deal to pass up.

“I—I don’t know, Eddie. I kinda wanna see what it’s all about.” you say with a meek smile.

“What?” he gasps, sitting up with a look of disbelief crossing his face, “hell fucking no, no way you’re actually thinking about this. That seems like a scam waiting to happen.”

“Eddie—“ you interject, grabbing your phone from your pajama pants pocket, “what will it hurt to try? If the texts are too sketchy or things go weird, I’ll block them and that’ll be the end of it, okay?”

He narrows his eyes at you and shakes his head, you’re too convincing to him and he knows you’ve won without much of a fight. A sigh of defeat falls from Eddie’s lips as he stands from the couch, making his way into the kitchen for a drink.

“Fine, but I’m driving you to and from whatever interview processes there are if you do follow through with this ridiculous plan, just so I know you’re safe.” he suggests, grabbing a glass from the cabinet.

“That’s fine by me,” you say with a triumphant grin, turning your attention to your phone.

You spend a few minutes curating a text to the mysterious Steve Harrington, reading it over multiple times before deciding to hit send. You wanted to sound as professional as possible, since there was no actual application process and one wrong text could ruin your chances. After reading it over approximately ten times, you finally decided to hit send. 

Hello Steve! My name is Y/N, I was on Indeed in search of a new job today and came across your job posting. I am extremely interested in the position and would love to hear more about the opportunity. Is there any more information that you could provide me with about the position? Thanks in advance!

Once you sent the message, you stared at the blue bubble on your screen for another minute, rereading it once more. 

“Alright, quit obsessing over that sketch ass job and let’s figure out what we’re gonna eat tonight.” Eddie calls from the kitchen, with a Chinese takeout menu in his hand, “wanna go pick up some lo mein, crab rangoon and some cheap wine? Alexander hates that place but he’s got a shift tonight, so it’s just me and you.” 

“You know me too well, Munson,” you smile, shutting off your phone and shoving it into your pocket.

—————————————

The early autumn air bites at your cheeks as you walk down the street with Eddie, a bag of chinese food in your hands and a bag full of wine bottles in his. The two of you are laughing about something that Eddie said when you feel your phone buzz in your pocket. 

You try to continue the conversation but stop mid-sentence when you see the text from none other than your potential future employer, Steve Harrington. 

Steve Harrington: Hi Y/N. Thank you for your interest in the position. I would love to see if you’re a good fit and see if we can get things started as soon as possible. Would you be available tomorrow morning at 9 to meet us at Ralph’s Coffee on Fifth? I will have all of the details and contracts printed and ready to sign if you’re right for the position. Let me know ASAP.

“What’s up?” Eddie says as he peers at your phone, making you realize you had gone silent for too long, “oh shit, tomorrow? At Ralph’s on Fifth Avenue? That’s like, rich people territory that we’ve never stepped foot in before. What the fuck kinda job is this, Y/N?”

“I—I don’t know,” you stammer, looking up at him for some kind of guidance, “what do I say?”

“Say ‘fuck yes’?” Eddie laughs, reaching for the door of the apartment complex once you reach it, “shit, I don’t know. Just say something professional-ish about seeing him tomorrow.”

“Right—Okay, obviously. I’ll do that.” you giggle as you stomp up the apartment stairs. 

You’re silent as Eddie unlocks all the doors on the way to their place, eyes glued to your phone as you type out a text that’s professional but not too eager.

Sounds great. I will see you tomorrow at 9 a.m. at Ralph’s. Looking forward to meeting you!

—————————————

Being awake before 8 a.m. on a Saturday felt like a crime to you, but you were hoping it was worth it for whatever job you were about to get yourself into. 

You woke up bright and early at 7:30 just to make sure you had time to fully get ready and look decent before making your way across town with Eddie to Ralph’s. There weren’t many options for your outfit for the meeting, since you had to donate half your closet to save space in the shoebox apartment you once shared with Luke, but you opted for a nice pair of black wide-leg jeans, a cream-colored sweater and a pair of black Chelsea boots. You got ready in record time before you made your way into Eddie and Alexander’s room, attempting to wake up the curly haired boy. 

Eddie was not happy to be up, but there was no way he was letting you go alone to meet a stranger about some random job, even if it was at one of the fanciest coffee shops in the city. 

You led the begrudging and very tired man out of the apartment after he got changed, into the crisp morning air to start your walk towards Fifth Avenue.

“You owe me a nice coffee when we get there,” Eddie adds as he hugs himself, trying to create some warmth. 

“You’re the one who wanted to come with, remember?” you remind him, shooting him a knowing glare. 

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever, I just wanna make sure you’re safe.” he retorts, shaking his head at you.

Before you can reply, a text buzzes through on your phone.

Steve Harrington: I grabbed a table off to the side in the shop, look for the crayons and coloring books on the table and you’ll find us. See you soon.

Your brow furrows in confusion at the text, surprised to see that he was bringing who you assume is his child along with him to the meeting. You shrug it off, smiling to yourself at the thought of getting to meet the kid today instead of after getting hired. 

It takes only another 15 minutes to arrive, getting there a few minutes before 9 a.m. to make a good first impression. To shut the complaining Eddie up, you decide to get your coffee first, then find your future employers. 

You order a hot vanilla latte for yourself, and a black coffee for Eddie, who grabs the drink hastily once given it. He bids you goodbye and wishes you good luck before finding his own seat in the coffee shop to occupy himself for the time being. With one last deep breath, you look around at all of the tables, trying to find the one with a coloring child.

Eventually you spot them in a far corner of the room. A little girl and her extremely well-dressed father sit at a table in front of you, both of them engaged in a deep conversation about which color she should choose for the fur of the puppy she was about to scribble on. Your eyes wander from the little brown-haired girl with a baby pink dress and matching shoes and up to her father, who you’re taken aback by immediately. 

He looks only a few years older than yourself, and has the nicest head of hair you’ve ever seen on a man. You can’t help but stare at it for a moment, wanting to run your fingers through the chestnut locks. It isn’t until he looks up from the paper and actually makes eye contact with you that you realize how beautiful he actually is. His doe-eyes are like honey, your mind immediately runs to places it shouldn’t when you gaze into them. 

“You must be Y/N.” he starts, shooting a smile your way as he stands up from his seat to extend a hand and greet you. 

“Y—Yes, I am!” you stammer nervously, cursing yourself for seeming too excited as you throw your hand into his, “you must be Steve, it’s great to finally meet you.” 

After you shake his hand, he gestures for you to have a seat, pulling the chair next to him out so you can sit. You quickly sit down and look at the young girl next to you, who has an excited grin and bright eyes when she looks up at you.

“Hello!” you greet her with a smile, “what’s your name, sweetheart?” 

“Amelia.” she says with a giggle. 

Before you can continue talking to her, she turns her attention back to her coloring page, having decided on coloring the puppy in front of her with a purple crayon instead of the brown that Steve had suggested.

“She obviously has very important business to attend to,” Steve laughs, while reaching for some papers on the table in front of him, “and so do we.” 

For the next thirty minutes, the two of you do a lot of back and forth, professional discussion about your life and what your job for the family would entail. You tell him that you’re in online courses at NYU, so you’ll need time for homework and exams, which he understands. You also learn that Steve is a CEO at Penguin Publishing, and that he is in need of a lot of help with taking care of Amelia, who seemed to be the best behaved child you could ask to watch.

The conversation was flowing between the two of you so easily, like you had known each other for years. Every time he cracked a smile at one of your remarks, it made your heart flutter. What the hell? What was wrong with you? You tried to push the fluttery feeling away as he spoke, not wanting it to get in the way of whatever this good thing was that you had going.

In the middle of your intense conversation about your schooling and working around it, Amelia pulls at your sleeve to get your attention. When you turn to her, she looks up at you with the same doe-eyes that her father has and shows you two crayons, one red and one green.

“What color for trees?” she questions, looking at you intently.

“Hm…I think red, it’s much prettier than green and it’s like all the fall leaves outside right now.” you suggest, which makes the little girl light up.

She nods feverishly at your idea, dropping the green crayon and immediately coloring the trees with the scarlet red.

“Well, it seems like we have a pretty good thing going here and that we’re in agreement for expectations and whatnot.” Steve says with a smile after watching the interaction between the two of you, “Although,I think there’s one thing that might make you change your mind about this whole thing that wasn’t specifically mentioned in the job description.” Steve starts, shifting in his chair nervously. 

“I’m sure I won’t mind, whatever it is.” you say with a smile, now feeling desperate for this job after building such a quick connection to the two of them.

“Well, I would really, really appreciate if you moved into my penthouse, into the in-laws quarters that are obviously not being used. It would be so—so helpful for you to be there all the time and—that’s why I had rent, food and transportation on the description.” he rambles nervously, as if that had ran off past applicants before.

Who would wanna turn down living in a penthouse, especially if it’s with him of all people?

Fears and doubts flood your mind for a quick moment, but you shake them away, not wanting him to rescind his offer if you think about it for too long. 

“A—Alright, when would you need me to start? Like when would I move in?”

“Tomorrow, if possible. I can send a truck and some people over to where you’re currently living to help move whatever you need—“

“Tomorrow?”

—————————————

TAGS (ask to be added!): @frostandflamesfanfic @definitionwanderlust @diffrent-spokes

[bunnliix]

The Invisible Strings that Bind us - Chapter Ten

I'm finally back with another chapter! I know this one isn't long, however it felt a bit clunky when I added more to it, so I decided to keep it short this time! The next chapter will be longer, I promise!

Pairing: Stray Kids x reader  Summary: Y/n has a conversation with her parents, and gets a call from someone. wc: 897 AU: soulmate au  Genre: Fluff/Angst  warnings: disapproving parents, anxiety, not a great parent/child relationship, y/n is having a rough time in this chapter, I think that's it? masterlist Note: Thank you @skzdust for helping me with this chapter!

Walking up the stairs, she finds her parents in the living room. They’re seemingly waiting for her, having seen that she had come back home. Her mother was sitting upright in her chair, having turned it around from where it normally faced towards the back of the room, seemingly expecting her arrival. Her father still faced away from her, though she could see by his posture that he wasn’t happy. His shoulders were tense, and his foot was tapping the hardwood floor impatiently. There were a few seconds of silence, before her mother started to speak. “Where have you been?” Her mother asked. “I went on a trip, it was short notice,” Y/n replied. “A trip where?” “To Montreal, for a job interview,” She said, “I’ll be moving if I do get the job.”

“What, you really think that you’d survive out in the world?” Her father interjected, having turned his chair around right before he spoke. “What about your schooling?” Her mother interrupted, her hands coming to rest in her lap, but y/n could see that she was tensing and relaxing them, a sign that she was unhappy with her daughter’s decisions.

“I’ve already gone and sorted that out, I just returned from campus.” Y/n answered, her hands gripping her top to try and contain her nerves. She knew this conversation was never going to go over well, her parents were of the opinion that she’d never do well without them holding her hand. 

“My job would include a place to live, and would accept pets, so as long as I get the job, then I don’t have to worry about any of that. I’ll be fine, and wouldn’t you be happier if I wasn’t living at home?” She explained to them, knowing that at least one of them would protest this, though more than likely would protest not being told about this beforehand. But y/n herself was coming up with this on the spot.

Y/n wasn’t telling her parents about her soulmates, for a few reasons. Her parents weren’t soulmates, and they didn’t fully believe in the whole ‘soulmates are perfect matches thing.’ They also would be upset with her moving across the world to live with eight men she ‘barely’ knew. Well, to them at least. She thought she knew them at least better than just ‘barely’. But they were her soulmates, and though maybe it was a bit stupid to move this quickly, what other options were there? She didn’t think it was smart to be stuck halfway across the world from her soulmates. Plus the issue of their schedules and the time difference meant being so far away would be much harder. “Well, there’s nothing more to say for now, until I know if I get it or not,” Y/n stopped any further discussion. She reached to grab her phone out of her pocket, letting her new bodyguards know that she would be staying in for the rest of the day, so they could leave for now. “I’m going back down to my room, I’ll talk with you later,” she said, smiling at her parents to hide any unease or anxiety that was swirling in her stomach.

Returning to her room, she flopped on her bed, tired from everything she had done. She laid there for who knows how long, until her phone started ringing. She answered it, the ring tone telling her it was likely one of her soulmates.

“Hello,” Seungmin’s voice rang out from her phone’s speaker.

“Seungmin, hi,” y/n replied, “Why are you calling?”

“We wanted to check in on you, since you’ve been there for a couple of hours now.” He explained.

“I’m doing okay, it’s been a busy but tiring day.” She said, sighing as her body still had yet to relax, her muscles tense.

“We’ve been busy here today, Chan-hyung found a new apartment for all of us, and we’re trying to get it ready by the time you come back at the end of the week.” Seungmin told her, “That’s also why I called, to let you know.”

“Is it really enough room for all nine of us?” She asked, curious as to how they found something so quickly.

“It will be a bit of a squish for some of us, but we’ll make it work,” Seungmin admitted. “Don’t feel bad about it, yeah?”

Y/n pouted, unsure of how the younger man figured out that she was going to feel bad about it.

“You’re similar to Han and Felix. And you might want to not speak out loud,” was what she was told, blushing as she realized she spoke out loud.

“Oh.” Y/n said in reply, unsure of what to say next as her cheeks continued to heat up.

She heard a faint, “Seungmin-ah! Come on!” come through the phone, indicating that it was time for their call to end.

“I’m sorry, darling, but I have to go. Talk to you soon.” Her soulmate told her, and she said goodbye to him before the call ended.

Laying her phone down in her bed, she decided to try and sleep a bit, suddenly feeling exhausted. Curling up under her blankets and pulling her knees close to her chest, her last thought before she slipped into sleep was how she wished to be back with her boys already.

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[whitedarkmoonflower]

Reunited 5

Pairing: modern!Sihtric x reader (female)

Authors note: So this is it. The journey has come to the end and I'm a bit sad but also very happy. This fic has a lot my own struggles within it and it has helped me to think over and let go of certain things that had accumulated. But before Sihtric and reader can look forward into the bright and shiny future they have to resolve some unsorted questions. I hope you'll enjoy it.

Warnings: it's emotionally tense with some angst and self reflection but still sweet

Summary: It was supposed to be a short two week trip that turned into five long years apart, just because your best friend couldn't keep her mouth shut. Will the reader and Sihtric manage to repair their broken relationship and find their way back to each other? Or will the reader decide to stay with the handsome and talented Sigtryggr?

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Word Count: 7,8 K

Please remember that comments and reblogs are two things that make writers smile and keep us motivated.

You felt a surge of betrayal twist through you, an uncomfortable déjà vu that made your stomach drop. The whole scene was surreal, and your mind spun, trying to piece it all together. But before you could say a word, Sigtryggr's hand found yours under the blanket, his grip firm and panicked.

“This—this isn’t what it looks like, I swear,” he stammered, his face pale and clearly horrified by the scene unfolding. He scrambled to sit up, looking between you and the woman standing in the doorway. “This is… this is Stiorra, my ex-girlfriend.”

Stiorra crossed her arms, one eyebrow raised as she regarded him with a mix of annoyance and disbelief. “And in case there’s any doubt,” she interjected, “I’m the one who threw him out.” Her eyes flicked to you, and a slightly sheepish smile softened her expression. “Told him to never come back, actually.”

Sigtryggr winced, rubbing the back of his neck. “Not exactly a high point in our relationship,” he muttered. Then, as if desperate to regain some semblance of control, he gestured toward the kitchen. “Stiorra, why don’t you, uh… wait in the kitchen? Give us a moment?”

With a sigh that suggested she was equally exhausted by this awkward situation, Stiorra shrugged. “Fine. But we’re talking after,” she said, shooting him a look that clearly communicated there was unfinished business between them. She turned on her heel, retreating to the kitchen and leaving the two of you in a tense silence.

You exhaled, still feeling the sting of surprise. “So, let me get this straight. Your ex-girlfriend who kicked you out now has a key and comes barging in?”

Sigtryggr’s cheeks flushed as he stumbled over his words. “It’s… complicated. We broke up months ago. She kept the key for emergencies, but I didn’t think she’d actually use it. I mean, she made it pretty clear she never wanted to see me again.” He shook his head, his eyes wide with a mixture of embarrassment and desperation. “I had no idea she’d be coming by today, I swear.”

You let out a breath, half-amused by his genuine horror at the situation. Despite everything, there was something undeniably ridiculous about it all. Here was this cool, collected artist, now completely rattled by his ex-girlfriend unexpectedly showing up while he was in bed with someone else.

You finally cracked a small smile. “You couldn’t make this up if you tried.”

He groaned, rubbing his face with his hands. “This really isn’t how I imagined our morning together going. I’m sorry.”

Before you could respond, Stiorra’s voice called from the kitchen. “I’m making coffee. There’s milk and sugar somewhere—if Sigtryggr actually bought groceries this week, that is.”

Sigtryggr’s eyes met yours, full of sheepishness, and you couldn’t help but laugh, the tension starting to dissolve. “I’ll take that as a hint to get dressed,” you said, sliding out of bed and grabbing your clothes, feeling his gaze following you apologetically.

“Take your time,” Stiorra called again, her voice faintly dripping with irony. “I’ll try not to make it more awkward.”

As if more awkward was even possible, a stifled laugh escaped you as you slipped into your clothes, feeling like you were in some strange, twisted sitcom. Sigtryggr joined you, tossing on his shirt and jeans quickly, his eyes darting nervously between you and the kitchen.

Once you were both dressed, you headed to the kitchen. Stiorra was there, leaning against the counter with a mug in hand, her lips twisted in a wry smile. She looked at you and Sigtryggr with an expression that was part curiosity, part thinly veiled irritation. Two other steaming mugs waited on the counter and you grabbed one like a life saviour.

"Well," she drawled, swirling her coffee. "I see you’ve wasted no time finding a replacement." Her gaze flicked from you to Sigtryggr, her tone razor-sharp. "Or were you just waiting for the perfect moment to jump into someone else’s bed, Sigtryggr? Good to know you’ve been so… resilient."

You saw a flicker of hurt cross Sigtryggr’s face as he tried to respond, his gaze darting briefly to you before returning to Stiorra, as if caught in some unresolved pull. He shifted beside you, clearing his throat awkwardly. "Stiorra," he managed, his voice tight, "you know it’s not  like that. It’s been almost half a year..."

But she didn’t give him room to explain. She looked down at her coffee, a hint of sadness breaking through her sarcasm as her fingers tightened around the mug. "I didn’t come here to make a scene," she murmured, her tone softening. "I just… I thought I wanted to move on. But maybe I was wrong."

You swallowed hard, your eyes darted from Sigtryggr to his ex-girlfriend and truth be told the only coherent thought was the increasingly intensive wish for the earth to open up and swallow you whole. Facing lions in the Colosseum would have been a more appealing option than drinking coffee in what you’d thought was your new boyfriend’s kitchen, watching it turn into a stage for a soap opera. Whoever said, "If something looks too good to be true, it probably is," had clearly known exactly what they were talking about.

Stiorra lifted her gaze to meet Sigtryggr’s, her defiance melting into something softer, tinged with regret. 

"Siggy, baby, I’m so sorry!" she blurted, her voice cracking as her teary eyes searched his. The sudden burst of emotions startled you both, leaving the room steeped in uncomfortable tension. "Leaving you wasn’t what I thought I wanted," she continued, the words tumbling out, unrestrained and unguarded. "It was the biggest mistake of my life, and I just hoped you… you might feel the same. I couldn’t wait any longer—I just needed to tell you this." Her gaze darted back to the steaming coffee in her hands, as though she couldn’t bear to face him anymore. “I never imagined you’d move on so fast, not after everything we had together.”

You glanced over at Sigtryggr, who looked as if he’d just been slapped with a cold fish. The usual calm, steady demeanour he carried so effortlessly was gone, replaced by a vulnerable uncertainty you hadn’t seen before. His mouth opened as if to respond, then closed again, his mind clearly spinning in too many directions to form coherent words. He looked at you briefly, but his attention was drawn back to Stiorra, as if caught by an invisible thread that still connected them.

His eyes softened, a hint of that old, unguarded affection surfacing as he stammered. “Stiorra, I… I didn’t expect this. I thought… we were over. I thought you’d moved on.”

The longing in his voice was unmistakable. You felt an odd pang, a mixture of empathy and unease as you watched him struggle. The way he looked at her, his gaze clouded with both confusion and something undeniably tender, told you more than his words ever could. And strangely you didn’t even feel betrayed. You felt a deep understanding, even sympathy kindling within you. 

It was clearly time to make an exit before this scene turned into a full-blown tragicomedy. But before you could even think of a polite way to excuse yourself, Stiorra’s gaze shifted to you, a knowing smile tugging at her lips.

“Oh, I know who you are,” she said, her tone casual—almost too casual. “You must be the mysterious girl who broke Sihtric’s heart. I’ve seen your picture, actually. He still keeps one in his wallet.”

“What?” The words hit you like a frying pan to the face, and you nearly dropped your coffee mug. This was beyond surreal; it was a nightmare layered with unwanted revelations. You glanced around, looking for any possible way to evaporate from the room as a wave of nausea crept over you.

Stiorra caught your reaction, her gaze sharpening as if sensing your unease. “No,” she said, her eyes assessing you calmly. “Not like that. Sihtric and I were never… involved.” She gave a casual shrug, one that seemed both reassuring and indifferent. “But I know him well enough. He worked for my father, Uhtred, for quite some time. And we have some mutual friends—Finan, Osferth. They’re close, practically brothers.”

You swallowed, still processing the shock as she spoke, and noticed the way her gaze flickered, slightly more empathetic now. Sigtryggr shifted beside you, clearly uncomfortable with where the conversation was heading, his gaze moving between you and Stiorra.

“Stiorra,” he said, clearing his throat, his voice a mixture of discomfort and quiet insistence, “I think we’re all getting a bit caught off guard here.”

Stiorra shrugged, but her expression softened as she looked back at him. “Maybe,” she admitted, voice gentler now. “But some things are better said than left hanging.” She turned her attention back to you. “Haven’t seen him in a while, but… he never really got over you, you know.”

The words landed like a stone in your chest, and for a moment, you felt the weight of everything you’d tried to put behind you pressing in. 

“Wait, hold on!” you blurted out, the words escaping faster than you could stop them and surely much louder than you wanted. “I broke his heart? What the hell are you talking about? He was the one who found someone else less than a week after I was out of sight.”

Stiorra’s eyes widened at your outburst. She hesitated before responding, her voice softer, almost cautious. “Wait… really? I don’t know all the details,” she admitted, glancing away briefly, “but I know for sure that Sihtric has been a mess since you left. Osferth and Finan have been trying to get him back on his feet, trying to knock some sense into him. But he’s just… shut everyone out, suffering in silence.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but something in her expression stopped you. There was a subtle reproach that made you falter.

Her words stung. You knew them—Osferth and Finan—Sihtric’s closest friends. Meeting them had felt like a significant step, almost as if you were meeting his family. Sihtric barely spoke about his parents or any siblings, but these two were an inseparable part of his life. The night he’d introduced you to them still lingered vividly in your memory.

Finan had taken to you right away, looking at you with an approving grin, clapping Sihtric on the shoulder and saying, “Finally, he’s found someone who might actually keep him in line.” His easy laughter and quick wit made you feel like you’d known him for years, and there was a warmth to his acceptance that had meant more than he probably knew.

Osferth, meanwhile, had been a bit more reserved, a touch of shyness in his gentle eyes. But there had been a sweetness in the way he’d talked to you, always quick to ask if you needed anything, checking that you felt included. You’d quickly learned he was the steady, caring presence in their group, looking out for both Sihtric and Finan with a brotherly devotion.

Those early evenings with them had been filled with laughter and endless stories from their nights out. You’d felt embraced by the friendship, a part of the easy bond they all shared. But when Sihtric walked out of your life, that sense of belonging had vanished too. They had been his friends, not yours, and your connection with them had ended as abruptly as your relationship with him.

“Look,” Stiorra continued, her voice pulling you back from your thoughts, “there are always two sides to a story. But only one truth. If you want to know more, maybe… maybe you should talk to Finan and Osferth. They know him better than anyone and could probably tell you more than I can.”

Without another word, you stood up, the urge to leave overpowering any sense of decorum. Sigtryggr reached out, his face a mix of surprise and worry as he tried to get your attention. “Hey, are you okay? What’s going on?”

You shook your head, barely able to meet his gaze. “I just… I need to go. I need…” The words trailed off, but you didn’t even bother to finish the sentence as you hastily grabbed your purse and headed to the doors without a single look back. 

You knew that Osferth worked as an assistant stylist at one of the top fashion studios, and Finan had a reputation as a brilliant set designer, always moving between shoots with an infectious energy. They were well-known figures in the industry, so it didn’t take long to track them down at a nearby studio where they were scheduled to prepare for an upcoming campaign.

The studio was bustling when you arrived. Assistants hurried about, racks of clothes lined the walls, and the hum of people preparing for a major shoot filled the space. You spotted Finan first, standing with his hands on his hips, joking with a lighting technician, his signature grin lighting up his face. Beside him, Osferth was focused on arranging a set of accessories on a table, his usually reserved expression serious as he worked.

Taking a deep breath, you stepped forward, and Finan caught sight of you. His grin faded, replaced by surprise that quickly gave way to guarded curiosity. He nudged Osferth, who looked up in shock, the familiar softness in his eyes now laced with uncertainty and distance you hadn’t expected. The two exchanged a look before approaching you, their movements careful, almost wary, as if they were unsure of how to greet you.

“Hey,” you managed, your voice catching. “I… I need to talk to you. About Sihtric.”

“Well,” Finan said, crossing his arms, his voice lacking its usual warmth. “If it isn’t the ghost from Sihtric’s past.”

The jab landed harder than you’d expected, his accusatory tone sinking into you like a heavy stone.

Finan’s gaze was steely, his arms crossed tightly over his chest as he fixed you with an unforgiving look. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done to him?” he said, his voice thick with frustration. “Twice now, you’ve come crashing into his life—first, tearing him apart, and now, strolling back in like a stranger, as if he doesn’t deserve even a shred of understanding for everything he’s been through. The least you could do is thank him for what he did for you.”

“What he did for me?” you repeated, your voice barely a whisper, caught in a haze of disbelief. You couldn’t even process the meaning behind his accusations, feeling as if you’d just walked into an ambush. You regretted coming here, every instinct screaming at you to turn and leave, to escape this room and the anger that pressed down on you from all sides. Blinking back tears that threatened to spill, you took a shaky step back, but Finan didn’t relent.

He moved closer, his gaze piercing, his voice unyielding. “Do you know how long it took him to get his life back together after you left?” he continued, his tone unwavering. “To even begin piecing himself back together? And then you show up out of nowhere, with no idea what he’s been through, and somehow make him fall all over again.”

Stunned, you stared at him, but he wasn’t finished. “We’ve been trying to help him move on for ages. Osferth and I—do you know how many nights we’ve spent picking him up after he shut everyone out, barely holding on? He’s been carrying this burden alone since the day he let you go.” Finan scoffed, his voice low and dark with exasperation. “And you—you have the nerve to walk back and judge him?”

You wanted to move but you felt rooted to the spot as you couldn’t keep the tears from rolling down your cheeks anymore. “Thank him? For what? For dropping me and finding another less than a week after I wasn’t in sight? For ruining my life, leaving me gathering the shards?”

Finan drew a deep breath, but Osferth interrupted him, placing a calming hand on Finan’s arm, though his face still held traces of disappointment as he looked at you. “Finan wait. Something’s not right there.” His eyes shifted to you, his expression softening, but only slightly. “And that’s all you know about what happened?”  he asked, his tone measured but no less serious. 

“What else is there to know?” you snapped, frustration simmering in your chest. “I thought he loved me, and the next thing I know, he’s moved on like I never existed. I think I have a right to be a little angry.”

Finan exchanged a glance with Osferth, as if confirming something, then sighed, rubbing his temples. “So, Gisela never told you why he did it?”

You felt your stomach clench at the mention of Gisela. Confusion gave way to a creeping unease, your mind racing to piece together what they were trying to say. “Gisela?” you repeated, barely masking the surprise in your voice. “What does she have to do with any of this?”

Osferth shifted uncomfortably, his gaze turning thoughtful. “Gisela came to him. Said it would be better if he… stepped aside. She told him about that offer you got, the scholarship and the contract – that once in a lifetime opportunity for you. She’s the one who convinced him to let you go. She told him it would be best for you to focus on your future, that he was holding you back.  And Sihtric… well, he thought he was doing what was best for you.”

“Best for me?” The words felt hollow, ringing with an irony that cut deeper with each syllable. You felt a wave of disbelief crash over you, your stomach twisting as you processed his words.

Osferth nodded, his gaze sombre. “He figured if he just… cut ties, you’d have no reason to look back. He tried to bury how he felt, make you believe he’d moved on. But we both know it tore him apart. He’s never been the same since you left.”

You felt your knees weaken, the ground beneath you seeming to tilt as the truth settled over you, each piece of information landing like a blow. The anger, the hurt, the betrayal—all of it twisted into something else, something that left you feeling hollow. Your legs gave way, turning to jelly, and you would have surely hit the ground if Finan and Osferth hadn’t steadied you from each side.

“Easy there!” Finan’s voice had softened, a warmth returning that you hadn’t expected as he guided you, his anger replaced by concern. He quickly waved to a set assistant walking nearby. “Get a chair—and some water!” he called, his tone firm but urgent.

You barely noticed the assistant rushing off. A chair was brought over, and Finan and Osferth eased you into it, the world around you blurring as you tried to comprehend what you just heard. Osferth knelt beside you, his eyes steady and full of sadness as he handed you the water.

“I… I didn’t know,” you stammered, the words feeling small, inadequate. You looked at them, your voice cracking. “I thought he… I thought he didn’t care. I thought he wanted me gone.”

Finan shook his head, his gaze softening as he met your eyes. “It was never about him not caring. He thought he was doing the right thing—for you.”

“He’s been living with that choice,” Finan added quietly, his eyes meeting yours, “because he thought it would give you a better life.”

Osferth placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, his tone gentle. “Sometimes people make the hardest choices for the ones they love. Doesn’t mean they don’t hurt just as much.”

“Maybe… maybe it’s time you hear it from him,” Finan said softly, his tone no longer accusatory but understanding.

—---------------------------------------------------

The worry gnawed at you, growing with each unanswered call, each message left unread. Sihtric had vanished after the fashion show, and as the hours without a word turned into an entire day, you found yourself pacing around your apartment like a caged animal, restless and frustrated.

You hadn’t wanted to go to his place—not at first. The idea of stepping into his space felt like giving up the neutral ground you’d hoped to keep. But as your concern deepened, it became clear that there was no other option. With a resigned sigh, you grabbed your things and headed out, finally making your way to his apartment.

When you arrived, you looked up to see a warm glow coming from Sihtric’s window. Relief flooded over you—he was home. You exhaled deeply, feeling the tightness in your chest ease, if only a little. You deliberately chose the stairs over the elevator, hoping the walk up would give you time to gather your thoughts. But even with the extra moments, your mind remained frustratingly blank, and your heart raced like a drumbeat in your chest.

Standing in front of his door, you raised your hand to the doorbell, trying to ignore the nervous twist in your stomach. But instead of ringing, you pressed your palm and ear to the door, straining to hear any sign of movement on the other side. Come on, you can do this, you urged yourself, taking a deep, steadying breath. Finally, you lifted your hand and pressed the button, feeling your pulse quicken as you waited for him to answer.

A sinking feeling twisted in your gut as there was only silence on the other side but you refused to give up. You pressed the doorbell again, then again, determined to get some response. Still, nothing.

“Sihtric,” you finally called. “I know you’re in there. I can see the light. Please, just talk to me.”

Silence stretched, pressing down on you. Frustrated, you balled your fists and pounded on the door, the echo of each hit ricocheting down the empty corridor. Somewhere down the hall, a door creaked open, and you glanced over your shoulder to find a pair of curious, disapproving eyes peering at you through a crack. But you were beyond caring about nosy neighbours. Ignoring them, you turned back to Sihtric’s door and knocked again, your voice catching slightly as you called his name once more.

Just as you felt the last shimmer of hope begin to slip away, you heard a faint shuffle behind the door, the sound of hesitant footsteps drawing closer. Relief flickered through you, only to fade as his voice, rough and bitter, cut through the silence.

“Just… go away,” he muttered, his tone carrying a heaviness that felt like a punch to the chest. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Sihtric?” you called, pressing a hand against the door. “Please, open up. I just want to talk.”

Silence. But you knew he was there, so you waited. A bitter, muffled voice finally answered. “Why? There’s nothing more to talk about,” he replied, his tone rough, barely masking the exhaustion in his voice. “Just… leave me alone.”

Ignoring his dismissal, you leaned closer, unwilling to let him shut you out. “Sihtric, please. I was wrong. I was wrong not wanting to listen to you, shutting you out. Please open the door, so we can talk. I just… I need to understand.”

He scoffed from the other side, the bitterness in his voice cutting. “Understand? You want to understand now? Why? You have your perfect little life, your perfect job, your prince charming.” His words were laced with sarcasm. “You want to judge me? I already gave you the chance for that at the show. I saw it on your face. I don’t need more of that.”

You pressed your forehead against the door, your heart pounding as you tried to will back tears slowly gathering in the corners of your eyes. “I’m sorry. Sihtric, can you hear me? I’m so sorry. And I wasn’t judging you, Sihtric. I was just… surprised. I’m not here to make things worse. I came because I care.”

On the other side of the door, Sihtric stood still, barely breathing, his entire body tense. He could feel the ache in his shoulders and neck, the result of hours spent tossing and turning through a sleepless night, haunted by thoughts of you and his own spiralling decisions. Every muscle felt heavy, weighed down by exhaustion, regret and anger.

He wanted to open the door. Part of him ached to see you, to hear your voice without the barrier between you. But another part—larger, stronger, the part that had convinced him to let you go years ago—held him back. That part reminded him of everything he’d become, the mess he’d made of his life since then, and the humiliation of his drunken, jealousy-fueled outburst at the fashion show. He clenched his fists, fighting the shame that burned inside him, wondering if he could ever face you again.

His heart pounded, each beat reverberating with the bitterness that had taken root within him. What did he have to offer you now? He was broken, he knew that much, and he’d spent too long building up his defences to believe someone would want to come close enough to help him pick up the pieces. Especially not you—the one person he’d hurt most by pushing you away.

Drawing a deep shaky breath he slowly slid down to the ground, resting his back against the door. His elbows propped on his knees he buried his face in his hands, the world reduced to the darkness behind his closed eyelids. 

The memories of the fashion show flashed in his mind—your face when he’d approached you, the shock and disappointment in your eyes, the way he’d stumbled through his words, lost in a haze of jealousy and alcohol. The regret was a deep wound now, throbbing with every word you spoke on the other side of the door.

What could he say to you? That he was sorry? Sorry didn’t even begin to cover the tangled mess he’d made of things. 

The sound of your voice, pleading, coaxing him to open the door, tore at him. He could feel you there, so close, and it made everything hurt more sharply. Sihtric let out a shaky breath, feeling the first sting of tears pressing at the corners of his eyes, but he held them back, unwilling to let himself break down, even now.

“Why are you here?” he muttered under his breath, as much to himself as to you. His voice was rough, barely hiding the bitterness he felt, not even toward you but toward himself. “What good can come from this?”

He sat there, torn between the urge to stand up, unlock the door, and reach for you, and the dark, cynical voice in his mind that told him to stay hidden, that he didn’t deserve whatever you were here to offer.

And yet, through it all, he couldn’t help but listen, couldn’t ignore the hope in your words, the softness in your tone. He could almost feel you on the other side, feel the warmth you brought, a warmth he hadn’t felt in years. 

But that hope was terrifying. Because if he opened the door, if he let you in… The very idea of you seeing him like this—broken, regret-filled and barely holding it together—filled him with shame. He didn’t know if he was strong enough to do that. He probably wasn’t. 

Silence hung in the air, thick and suffocating. Sihtric’s breathing grew uneven, and for a moment, you wondered if he’d even heard you. Then, his voice cut through the quiet, rough and worn, tinged with a bitterness that struck you like a physical blow.

“I don’t need your sympathy,” he muttered, the words laced with frustration. “I don’t need anything from you. Just leave me alone—I don’t want you to see me like this.”

“Sihtric,” you called softly, pressing your hand flat against the door. “Please… just open the door.”

When he didn’t respond, you clenched your fists and banged against the door, louder this time, not caring who heard. “Sihtric, I’m not going anywhere! You don’t have to shut me out. I know… I know what you did for me. I know why you left.”

There was a pause, so deep and tense you could hear the faint sounds from the street outside, muffled and distant. Finally, his voice broke the silence, barely audible, fragile. “Who told you that?”

You took a steadying breath, hoping he could hear the sincerity in your tone. “Finan and Osferth,” you replied. “They told me everything. How you thought leaving was best for me, how you made it look like you’d moved on just so I wouldn’t come back… how you suffered through it all because you thought it was the right thing.”

There was another pause, and then he laughed, a hollow, defeated sound that twisted painfully in your chest. “So, what?” he said, his voice wavering, barely holding steady. “You came here to pity me? To see what a mess I’ve made of myself?” He sounded tired, as if the words themselves were an effort. “I don’t need your pity either.”

For a moment, all you could hear was his unsteady breathing. You imagined him, standing just on the other side, close enough to touch if only he’d open the door. It was driving you mad—having him so close but so far away at the same time. You silently cursed yourself for turning him down, for refusing to listen when he had tried to talk to you before. Why had you been so cold? Why had you let fear take over?

But it wasn’t just your fear that had brought you to this moment. Gisela. The thought struck like a dagger, bitter and sharp. Why had she meddled? Why had she pushed Sihtric into making that choice without ever telling you? All those times she’d been there, comforting you, assuring you that moving on was the right thing to do—she had known. She had known the truth and had kept it from you. Why, Gisela? you thought bitterly, your hands balling into fists against the door. Why did you do this to me? To us?

You closed your eyes, pressing your forehead against the door, the whirlwind of emotions inside you felt unbearable, but amidst the chaos, a single thought began to crystallize with startling clarity. I’m not letting this go. Not this time. You had spent too long blaming others for what had happened—Sihtric, the universe, now Gisela. Too long nursing your pain, placing it on a pedestal like some kind of shield to justify not moving forward, not letting yourself feel again. But you couldn’t hide from the truth anymore. This wasn’t just pain or regret—this was love. It had never stopped being love, and it was time you faced it.

You straightened slightly, you weren’t going to let the past define what was left of your future. This was your chance, and you weren’t going to let fear or pride hold you back any longer. Sihtric deserved the truth, and so did you. He needed to hear it, to know that you still loved him—not the sanitized, half-forgotten version of love you’d pretended to bury, but the real thing. The kind of love that ached, that fought, that refused to let go.

And he needed to know the part you’d played in letting it all fall apart. The anger you’d clung to, the walls you’d built to protect yourself, all of it had driven you away from him when you should have stayed and fought, and you needed to own that. 

“I’m not giving up on this,” you whispered, more to yourself than to him, though you hoped he could feel the determination in your voice. “Not this time, not again.”

You took a deep breath, feeling the door as your only support as you leaned against it. “Sihtric,” you began, your voice trembling, but there was no hesitation in your words. “Please, just listen to me. Don’t make the same mistake I did. Please, I’m begging you just hear me out. I’m here because… because I never stopped loving you.”

You could feel his breathing hitch on the other side, but he didn’t say anything, and you went on, needing him to hear everything.

“I wanted to hate you,” you confessed, your voice breaking slightly. “I tried. I thought that if I could just hate you, it would be easier. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t hate you, not really. Even when I tried to move on, to make a life without you… I couldn’t let go of you. No one else could replace what you mean to me.”

On the other side of the door, Sihtric let out a ragged breath, his hands covering his face. 

The weight of your own words took their toll, and slowly, your legs gave way. You slid down to the ground, sitting with your back pressed against the door, your head resting against the wood as you stared at the empty hallway in front of you. 

“When you wanted to talk to me that day at the shoot… I was so cold because I was scared, Sihtric,” you whispered, the confession falling from your lips before you could stop it. “I was afraid that if I let you in, even a little, I’d break. That all the walls I put up to protect myself would come crashing down.”

Sihtric listened, his face buried in his hands, feeling every word you spoke burning holes in his soul. He wanted to reach for you, to say something, but something kept him still, the knowledge of everything he’d put both of you through holding him back. His breath was shaky, his heart pounding as he imagined you there, only inches away.

“I tried to move on, Sihtric,” you continued. “I tried to make a life without you. I even tried to love someone else, to find what I had with you with someone new. But it didn’t work. No one… no one ever felt like you.”

Sihtric’s hands dropped from his face, and he pressed his palms flat against the door, his fingers splaying out as if they could reach you through the barrier between you as he felt his resolve breaking, his walls crumbling bit by bit.

“I thought letting you go was the best thing I could do for you,” he murmured. “I thought that if I hurt you enough, you’d decide to leave me behind… and you’d never look back. I wanted you to be successful and happy, even if it meant I couldn’t be.”

A tear slipped down your cheek as you listened, your heart breaking all over again. “Don’t you see?” you said, your voice barely a whisper. “I was never happy without you. I kept telling myself that I could be, but deep down, I knew… I knew I’d never feel whole again.”

For a moment, the two of you sat there, separated by inches of wood and miles of unspoken feelings, both of you held captive by the same painful memories and buried longing.

“You don’t understand…” he continued, his voice breaking. “I’m not who I used to be. I’m not… I’m not enough for you, you need someone better. I don’t even know who I am anymore. You should be out there, living that life you’ve created and earned, not here… with someone like me.”

You swallowed hard, tears pooling in your eyes but refusing to fall. “I don’t need someone better, Sihtric. I need you,” you said, your voice trembling but resolute. “The real you, flaws and all. I can’t pretend anymore that everything’s fine without you in my life. I don’t care about perfect, Sihtric. I just… I just want you.”

The silence behind the door was deafening, stretching longer than you could bear. Your chest tightened, every second dragging on like an eternity. You strained to hear anything—a shuffle, a breath, even the slightest indication that he was still there—but there was nothing. The hollow quiet seeped into your heart, threatening to shatter it into a thousand pieces again.

Was this really the end? The thought weighed heavy, pressing against you until you couldn’t sit upright any longer. Slowly, you laid your head down on your knees, clutching them tightly as if to hold yourself together. You felt the sting of finality creeping in, the cruel certainty that you had done everything you could. It was time to stand up, to walk away, and this time, not look back.

But just as you started to gather the strength to rise, a faint, almost imperceptible sound reached your ears. A click. Your breath hitched as the unmistakable sound of the lock turning echoed softly through the silence.

You turned your head at the sound of the door creaking open, and there he was. Sihtric stood in the doorway. He looked exhausted, dark rings encircling his beautiful large eyes, face shadowed and tired. His hair was disheveled, and his shirt was rumpled, hanging loosely on his frame, but you didn’t care. All you could see was him, standing there, finally letting you in.

You jumped to your feet, propelled by a wave of relief and emotion, and lunged at him before you could think twice. The sudden movement caught him off guard, and the two of you stumbled backward into the apartment, the door swinging shut behind you. Your arms wrapped tightly around him, holding on as though he might disappear again if you let go. Tears streamed down your cheeks, soaking into his rumpled shirt as you buried your face against his broad, muscular chest.

For a moment, he stood frozen, his hands hovering uncertainly by his sides. Then, slowly, hesitantly, his arms came around you, pulling you closer. He let out a shuddering breath, the tension in his body giving way as he held you tightly, like he was afraid this was just another fleeting dream.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice muffled against him, trembling with emotion. “I’m so, so sorry, Sihtric. For shutting you out. For not fighting harder. For letting my anger win.”

His chest rose and fell beneath you as he struggled to steady his breathing. His voice was rough, as he finally spoke. ��You have nothing to be sorry for. It was me… all of it. I pushed you away. I thought it was the only way.”

You pulled back slightly, just enough to look up at him, your hands gripping the fabric of his shirt. 

“I should’ve fought for us,” you said, your voice breaking. “I should’ve seen through it, through what you were doing. But I didn’t.”

His hand came up to cup your face, his touch tentative, almost disbelieving. “You couldn’t have known,” he said softly, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “I made sure of that. I wanted you to move on, to be happy.”

“I wasn’t happy,” you said, shaking your head. “I could never be happy without you.”

He closed his eyes, his forehead resting against yours as a tear slid down his cheek. “I don’t know if I can fix this. If I can fix me.”

You reached up, your fingers tracing the stubble along his jaw as you steadied your voice. “You don’t have to fix anything. We’ll figure it out together. Just, please, don’t push me away again.”

For a long moment, he didn’t say anything. He just held you, his hands trembling slightly as they clung to you. Then, he leaned in and his lips brushed yours in a soft, lingering kiss that carried the weight of everything he couldn’t say.

Sihtric's lips trembled against yours, as you pressed into him, your hands clutching harder the fabric of his shirt, silently telling him that you were here, that this was real. You kissed him back pouring all your emotions into that one single gentle touch of lips, getting more heated and desperate with each passing moment.

When he pulled back just enough to catch his breath, he began to press a trail of kisses across your cheeks, your forehead, the bridge of your nose. 

“I love you,” he murmured between kisses, his voice rough and low. “I’ve always loved you. Even when I tried to forget… when I tried to move on, I couldn’t.” His lips found yours again, more insistent this time, as though he couldn’t get enough, couldn’t hold back the flood of emotions he’d kept buried for so long.

“I tried to find someone else,” he admitted, his voice breaking as he pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against yours. His breath was warm and unsteady. “I thought I could replace what we had. But it was never the same. No one could ever be you.” His hands moved to your waist, pulling you closer, his grip firm but gentle. “I don’t want anyone else. I can’t. It’s always been you, and it will always be you.”

Without warning, he scooped you up into his strong arms, holding you effortlessly as though you weighed nothing. You gasped softly, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck as he looked down at you, his eyes filled with something raw and unrestrained.

“I need you,” he said, his gaze locked on yours. “I need you in every part of my life. And right now… I need to show you how much I love you.”

You smiled through tears, you fingers tangling in his thick, disheveled hair. You pulled him closer and with a low almost desperate growl his lips captured yours again as he carried you further into the apartment.

—-----------------------------------------------------------

The soft hum of voices and the gentle clinking of glasses filled the air as you arrived at the exhibition, a feeling of anticipation settling in your chest. Gisela was waiting for you near the entrance, her ever-poised demeanor slightly off-kilter as she scanned the crowd. When her eyes landed on you, a flicker of something—relief? Concern?—crossed her face, and she hurried over.

“There you are,” she said, taking your hand as though to steady you. Her tone carried an edge of urgency, and you could tell she was gearing up to say something important. “I’m glad you came. But listen, before you go inside, there’s something I need to tell you.”

Her voice lowered conspiratorially as she leaned closer. “Sigtryggr… he’s here. And he brought someone. A girlfriend, apparently.” Her words were careful, but her gaze flickered with unease, clearly gauging your reaction.

You raised an eyebrow, a flicker of amusement rising in you. “That’s fine, Gisela,” you said, squeezing her hand lightly. “Sigtryggr and I… we weren’t meant to be. I’m happy for him.”

She blinked, slightly taken aback by your calm response, but pressed on. “Well, I thought you should know. But I also have someone I want you to meet.” Her voice brightened slightly, as though trying to distract you from the potential awkwardness waiting inside.

You tilted your head, an affectionate smile creeping onto your face. “Actually, Gisela, I have someone I want you to meet first.”

Before Gisela could respond, Sihtric stepped forward from behind you. He wasn’t dressed to blend into the crowd of sharply tailored suits and polished shoes that filled the gallery, yet somehow, he looked effortlessly striking. 

A dark, fitted leather jacket hung perfectly over his broad shoulders, paired with a simple, black t-shirt that clung to his lean, muscular frame. Fitted jeans and scuffed boots completed the look, adding a touch of ruggedness that made him stand out in all the right ways.

His dark hair was neatly tied back, but a few rogue strands fell across his sharp cheekbones, softening the intensity of his piercing eyes. He looked effortlessly cool, the kind of man who drew attention without even trying, and the subtle smirk on his lips only added to the effect.

Sihtric slipped his hand into yours, your fingers intertwining, and the look on Gisela’s face was priceless. She was frozen, her gaze locking on him as if she couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Her usual poise faltered, and for the first time, she seemed genuinely at a loss for words. Her eyes flicked between you and Sihtric, wide with shock, her mouth opening and closing slightly as though searching for something—anything—to say.

“Sihtric,” you said warmly, your voice filled with affection as you glanced up at him. He responded by slipping his arm around your waist, his hand resting at the small of your back.

Gisela finally found her voice, though it was a touch higher-pitched than usual. “I… didn’t realize…” she stammered, her gaze darting to you as if silently questioning how, when, and why this had happened.

You cut her off with a gentle but firm nudge to the side, brushing past her with a smile. “Gisela, we’ll catch up later. Right now, there are a few people we’d like to say hello to.”

Sihtric’s arms wrapped securely around you as you walked into the exhibition together, his warmth grounding you. You caught sight of Sigtryggr and Stiorra in the center of the gallery, standing close, their heads tilted toward each other as they shared a quiet laugh. Whatever lingering awkwardness might have existed between you and Sigtryggr seemed to dissolve as you approached, Sihtric at your side.

“Sigtryggr,” you greeted warmly, your smile genuine. “It’s good to see you.”

Sigtryggr turned, his expression flickering with brief surprise before softening into a polite smile. “And you,” he replied, his gaze briefly darting to Sihtric before settling back on you. “I see you’ve… moved on as well.”

“Seems like we’ve both found where we’re meant to be,” you replied, your tone light, though the weight of those words resonated deeply within you.

Stiorra raised her glass with a mischievous grin. “Well, well. Isn’t this a picture-perfect reunion?” she quipped, her tone teasing but kind.

Sihtric’s arm tightened around your waist as he leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple. “A reunion, maybe,” he murmured just for you, his voice warm and low. “But what matters is where we go from here.”

And as you stood there, surrounded by art, by people who had once been tangled in your past, you couldn’t help but smile as for the first time in a long while, the future felt beautifully, wonderfully yours.

[steddiealltheway]

Part Five of Six of Meddling ;) Part One. Two. Three. Four. Ao3 Link.

The whole ride home, Steve holds Eddie’s hand and keeps muffling his laughter whenever Eddie catches him staring. They’re definitely not acting their age, but love does crazy things to Steve. 

He eventually gets a bit distracted when they all start arguing about what movie they should watch that night. They settle on letting whoever plays the most convincing part in the trail run dinner pick the movie. 

When they get to the parking lot, Robin and Nancy tell them to go up first, so they can pretend that Robin is going downstairs to get Veronica and bring her up. 

Steve races up the stairs with Eddie and shouts, “I vote they walk in on us making out!” 

Eddie cackles. 

Honestly, Steve doesn’t want to pick the movie, but he is going to pretend as hard as he can that he wants to. 

He drops his keys twice in excitement, and Eddie ends up picking them up, saying, “Let me do it.” Which results in way more time lost until Steve finally points out the right key and they get in the door. 

Eddie looks back at it and asks, “Steve, do you remember anyone locking that?” 

He doesn’t. He glances around and sees that everything is fine and in place and shrugs. “Not important,” Steve declares. “Kiss me.” 

Eddie laughs and fulfills Steve’s request. Laughing as they clumsily make their way to the couch while refusing to keep their lips off each other to scar Robin and Nancy forever for making them go through with this plan. 

Before they can appear in a terribly compromising position, the door swings open. 

“Oh, gross! This is not how I wanted you to meet my girlfriend,” Robin shrieks. 

Nancy glances at her in confusion. “We’re not actually doing this right now, right?” 

Strike one for Wheeler. No more movie choice privileges. 

Eddie gets up from the couch and slings his arm around Steve to drag him to the door. He holds his hand out to Nancy. “Eddie Munson, Steve’s wonderful boyfriend you’ve heard all about.” 

Nancy shakes his hand and turns to Steve. “And you must be Steve.” 

Steve just smiles and nods, trying not to show how damn weird this all feels. It’s like he entered some sort of improv club or something. Now that he thinks about it... Robin and Eddie both did theatre in high school... 

Steve raises his hands to make a “T” shape. “Time out,” he calls. “I-I forgot to change into the sweater-” 

“Which is non-negotiable,” Eddie interjects with a smile. 

“Why don’t we just move to the table and have Nancy drill us with questions next? I really don’t want to act out all these introductions to the point that we start miming eating food or something.” 

Robin crosses her arms and glares at Steve. “Fine, but I’m adding a tally to revoke movie picking privileges!” 

Steve waves her off as he hurries to his room. He closes the door behind him and takes a second to breathe. Today has been... a lot. And it’s going to be a lot more when Steve finally sucks it up and drags Eddie to his room to talk about what’s going on between them. 

First, he just has to go through the motions of being Eddie’s boyfriend. Which isn’t too hard. And definitely not something he dreads. But he wants the whole charade to be up so it can finally be real. 

He tugs the sweater on, thankful that he left it on his bed when he realizes... he and Eddie didn’t change a single time they went out. In fact, their clothes are still in the trunk with their prizes. 

Luckily, if this goes as well as Steve expects, they can take several new pictures on their real dates together to show Veronica. Or maybe she’ll overlook that they happened to wear the same outfits to the fair and lunch out. 

Either way, he’s going to be happy to show off his boyfriend to someone, so much so that he almost looks forward to meeting her now. 

There’s a knock on his door. 

Steve opens it quickly and smiles at Eddie on the other side. But his smile fades quickly when he sees the look on Eddie’s face. “Everything okay?” Steve asks tentatively. What could’ve happened in the small amount of time he was gone? 

Eddie nods but doesn’t even look at him. Just hands him his phone and says, “I forgot I had this.” 

“Thanks,” Steve says as he takes it and pockets it. He leans against his doorframe. “Seriously, Eddie, did something happen?” 

Eddie looks at the ground and shakes his head. He looks Steve in the eye and gives him a tight smile. “Nah, man. Let’s just get this over with.” 

Get this over with? Since when is Eddie so put out by the idea of fake dating him? 

Steve follows Eddie to the table and puts an arm around him as they sit down, but Eddie tenses up. So, he moves his arm slightly back to rest on the chair instead. He tries to catch Eddie’s attention by staring at him, but he won’t spare Steve a single glance. 

Nancy looks back and forth between the two and narrows her eyes, seeing something is off but not confronting it. “Are you two ready for the questions?” she asks. 

Steve looks at Eddie who quickly nods, so he nods as well. They need to get this over with quickly so they can talk.  

“Great. So, how did you two meet?” 

“Steve, do you want to take this one?” Eddie asks, fidgeting with his rings. 

“Yeah,” Steve replies without thought because he’d do anything for Eddie. He pauses to think a moment and smiles at the memory. “We met in a bar. I went because the girl I was with recommended it. But then, I saw Eddie performing during their open mic night, and I just couldn’t look away. I introduced myself to him as soon as I could, and we hit it off immediately. In fact, it wasn’t long before we both realized that we knew Dustin, our younger friend who had been trying to get me to meet Eddie for months before that moment. And it just all kind of felt like fate.” 

Robin shares a look with Steve. He knows that she remembers the exact night that he had met Eddie because he had gushed about him as soon as he got home. Robin had confronted him about the obvious crush Steve had on him, but he brushed it off because he didn’t want Dustin to kill him. Plus, he hadn’t felt that way after meeting anyone for the first time before, and he didn’t know what to make of it. 

“Dustin almost killed us when he found out we had met without him being there,” Eddie adds emotionless, still fidgeting with his rings while staring off into space. “We both called it fate so he couldn’t argue with us.” 

“That’s sweet,” Nancy coos as if she’s actually hearing all of this for the first time which... maybe she is. Steve had only reconnected with her about two years ago, and after he introduced her to Robin, she just kind of stuck around. He’s not sure if anyone filled her in on how Eddie became a part of the original trio. “Now, tell me when you first knew you were in love.” 

“Jesus H. Christ,” Eddie mutters and runs a hand over his face. 

Steve puts a comforting hand on his thigh and takes the question again, hoping it’ll be the last one, “It hit me way later than it should’ve. I always knew it was there deep down, but then it randomly came out when I was talking to Robin.” He is not supposed to be telling the truth right now. 

Eddie’s hand slides down to hit the table a little too harshly which causes everyone to jump. “Do you really want to know when I fell in love with Steve?” He leans forward on the table toward the girls as if he’s about to launch into a campaign with fantastical, unbelievable stories. And that’s exactly what Steve thinks when Eddie says, “For me, it was love at first sight.” 

Steve swallows hard as he waits for the rest of the tale to come together. 

“As soon as I saw him, I thought he was too good to be true. He was kind, hot, funny, and he noticed me. And no one’s really done that before. So, I thought, this is it, this is the one,” Eddie leans back and laughs. “Then then bimbo Barbie came into the picture, and I realized I wasn’t enough for him. But then, she was seemingly gone, and I fell even harder because Steve’s Steve, you know? And you can’t help but fall in love with him. But bam. Another girl pops up. Then a guy. And a girl, and a guy, and a guy, and a girl, and a they, and a them, and. Bam!” 

Once again, everyone startles as Eddie slams his hands down on the table. 

“There’s little ol’ me. Pining from afar knowing that my dreams of having Steve will never come true,” he finishes with a humorless laugh and throws out his arms. “So, there you have it. I’ve been in love with him for as long as I’ve known him.” 

The room stays silent for a few moments. 

Everything is wrong. Everything is off. 

Eddie isn’t looking at him still, and Steve doesn’t know what he managed to do to mess things up already. This is why he never wanted to get involved. He didn’t want to end up in this. 

“So, when did you two get together?” Robin questions this time, awkwardly breaking the tense silence. 

“Two years ago,” Steve answers quietly.  

And this is what really sets things off for Eddie. He stands up and shakes his head. “I’m sorry, Robin, but I can’t do this.” 

No one has time to respond before Eddie is already out the door. 

Nancy and Robin turn to Steve with accusatory looks as soon as the door slams shut. 

“I don’t know what I did!” Steve yells before they can accuse him of anything. “I don’t know what I did,” he says again as he puts his head in his hands. 

What did he do? 

“Steve, what did Eddie say to you earlier after you changed into the sweater? Everything seemed to shift after that,” Nancy says. 

He digs in his memory. “I don’t know. He was in a weird mood as soon as I opened the door. He just handed me my phone and lied about being okay. Shit, I should’ve pulled him aside at literally any point today to-”

“Wait,” Robin says. Nancy and Steve both look at her as she pauses in thought. Steve’s about to tell her to just spit it out when she finally asks, “Steve, did you look at your phone when Eddie handed it to you?” 

Steve shrugs. “I don’t think so.” 

Nancy’s face lights up in realization. “And you don’t have any of your notifications hidden, so Eddie may have seen something before he gave it to you.” 

Oh, shit. Steve hurries to dig his phone out of his pocket and puts it flat on the table so everyone can see it. As soon as he taps the screen, they all see the problem. 

Jordan 

I miss you xoxo. Come over soon so you can help me break in the new mattress babylove ;)  

Robin gags. “Who the hell uses babylove?” 

Nancy shrugs. “I think it’s kinda cute.” 

Steve ignores them as he runs a hand through his hair. This isn’t good. This really isn’t good. Shit, and they just had the conversation asking if they were seeing anyone, and Eddie probably thinks he lied to him. Shit. 

“Who’s Jordan?” Robin asks suddenly. 

Steve groans. “The girl I hooked up with three weeks ago.” 

“The reason you kicked me out of the apartment??” Robin yells. 

Steve groans again. This cannot be happening to him. 

“Come on,” Nancy says with a laugh, “That whole situation is literally the reason we got together, babylove.” 

Robin flushes red and says, “I can slightly see the appeal, but that’s only because this is very new and-” 

“Wait, what?” Steve asks. What the hell is happening? 

Robin gives him a really guilty look and bursts out, “I was trying to tell you earlier today at the fair! I’ve felt so bad about this whole plan and lying to you, but I didn’t want to tell you until Nancy and I put a label on things and-” 

“So, who is Veronica?” Steve asks slowly. 

Nancy answers hesitantly, “Someone we made up so we could go through with this plan of trying to get you and Eddie together. Honestly, we didn’t think things would blow up between you guys, and we certainly didn’t think we’d end up dating each other because of this.” 

“You’re dating??” Steve asks, hearing the pitch and volume of his voice go up. 

“Nancy asked me to be her girlfriend during lunch today. That’s why I was rambling so much in the car.” 

It all hits Steve, and suddenly everything makes sense. 

He puts his hands on his hips and takes a deep breath. “I’m really happy for you guys, but I’m just as equally pissed at you guys.” 

“Yeah, that’s understandable,” Nancy replies with an apologetic smile. 

“We’ll talk about all this later, but right now, I need to find Eddie. Do either of you know where the hell he could be?” Steve asks. 

“His apartment?” Robin supplies. 

Nancy shrugs then her eyes get wide. “Steve, you and Eddie share each other’s location right?” 

“Yeah, why?” Steve asks. Nancy sighs and gestures to his phone. Oh. OH. “Nancy, you’re a genius, but I still hate you both.” 

“Just go get your man,” Robin says with a laugh as she shoves him out the door. 

“I’ll try!” Steve says. 

And after all their meddling, he hopes that he’ll somehow still be able to. 

Part six

Tag List <3:

@henderdads @little-gae-shit @dreamingtheimpossibe @leethegay @lazyavenuewhispers @olibxr @thegayestpersonever @heartsforhawke @estrellami-1 @messrs-weasley @evillitteguy @miss-hit @infrogulous @romanticdestruction @liz5100 @evix-syne666 @bebe07011 @corrodedseraphine @meganwinchester @manda-panda-monium @heartdinosblog @ellietheasexylibrarian @newtstabber @irregular-child @turboprops69 @envyadams-vs-me @dude-as-in-i-love-u @slv-333 @jillfriend @goodolefashionedloverboi @steady-delusional-moonlover @scheodingers-muppet @sleepyboosstuff @cyranyx @bestwifehaver @marvel-ous-m

[tojiscumdumpster]

CHAPTER FIVE - READER

⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀✧ summary page

content warnings - vanilla smut.

 I’m sober enough to be grateful that it’s Saturday, but I’m hungover enough to wish I didn’t drink so damn much last night. Four cocktails and eight shots? I’m surprised I’m not a corpse right now. My head is throbbing, and my body still feels too sluggish to get out of bed. 

 What time is it? Eight? Nine? Who knows? What I do know is that I’m going to take it slow today.

 But even though I have the biggest headache right now, I can’t deny that last night was probably the best sleep I’ve had in a while. 

 It felt warm. Safe, like I was being protected and cared for. And I know damn well Mr. Don Julio was not responsible for that. 

 When I get drunk, I can sometimes remember bits and pieces of what happened the night before, in the next morning. I know I was at a bachelorette party. I saw Toji—

 Wait, I saw Toji. We snuck away into the utility closet to make out like two horny college kids and talked. But he said something that hurt my feelings, causing my whole over drinking fiasco.

 Then, some random guy who was hard on the eyes started dancing with me. I can’t remember much after that, but I’m sure he was a creep.

 Realistically, I do need to get up to start my day. I have a couple of errands to run, and I sort of promised Nanami that we would meet for lunch later. Why? I don’t know. Again, I don’t hate him. It’s just… I don’t know. 

 But when I tried to get up from bed, I felt like I was being held down by an arm. Rough yet soft grumbles pass through ears that scatter goosebumps across my core. 

 In a way, they sound therapeutic. Though, I’m still skeptical about who’s in my bed because I don’t remember hooking up with anyone, let alone allowing someone to sleep over. 

 However, the moment I looked up to see those dark, mid-length, raven locks. The distinctive scar on his lip. His soft rose-colored lips, I broke from his embrace and jumped away from him. 

 Did I…

 “Toji?” 

 He barely stirs, but my voice is enough to wake him up. “Hm?” 

 My mouth waters at the sight of him, laying in my bed, wearing only a tank top that bare his biceps, but leaves me with questions because of the scars that accompany his beautiful skin. And his briefs that shows his toned thighs and— fuck . His semi-hard dick print. 

 I should look away, I should. But it’s hard when the man you’ve been fantasizing about for the past week is laying in your bed, looking like that. 

 “A picture will last longer,” he rasps. That deep fucking husky voice that sounds even sexier in the morning. 

 Y/N. Focus. 

 Heat floods under my cheeks as I look away. “What are you doing here?”

 “Last night really fucked you up, didn’t it?” 

 “I… Did we… Did we-”

 “Have sex?” He finishes for me, and I nod. “No. I wouldn’t do that to anyone… Not to you.” His last words were filled with softness that made my heart skip a beat. 

  Why am I so drawn to this man?

 Toji continues, “You’re pretty fucking clingy when you’re drunk, though. I took you home and cleaned you up for bed and I saw-” He stops mid-sentence, causing me to raise my brow in curiosity.

 “You saw what?” He sits up and turns away from me. I notice a light crimson color forming across his face and spreading to his ears. “Toji Fushiguro, are you blushing? What did you see?”

 “Just drop it.”

 “Nope,” I countered, jumping on him to get his attention back to me. I’m now playfully straddling his lap, completely oblivious. 

 It's like my hangover washed over me the second I knew Toji was in my presence. He was my serotonin, and I didn’t even realize. 

 “Aren’t you supposed to be hungover? Where the hell did all this energy come from?” He asks. 

 “Suddenly I’m not hungover anymore because I’m more interested in what you saw-”

 “Naked,” he interjects. “I saw you naked. When I was looking for your oversized tee shirts, you took off your dress while my back was turned and… yeah.”

 “Oh…”

 All the energy I had come to a halt while zeroing in on Toji. Me, still straddling his lap, becomes lost in his expensive emerald-colored hues. They’re so sharp. So pretty. Those soft lines, forming around his eyes that come with age, suits him well. But you wouldn’t even be able to tell he was forty-two because his skin is so smooth.

 His eyelashes are dark and medium length. Brows straight and thin. Lips rosy and slightly plumped. Toji, who claims to be an indecent man, appears like a beautiful catalyst to me. 

 It’s true what he says about us barely knowing each other, even though it doesn’t feel like that because in such little time, my life feels safe with him. 

 “Y/N,” he whispers. He calls for me and when he does, I feel his erection growing against my pussy. 

 “I’m sorry.” I start to pull away, but he holds me in place.

 “It’ll go down. Don’t want you to feel pressured to have sex with me,” he assures.

 “Okay… what if I—” I begin rubbing my sex against his dick. 

 “Y/N.” This time his voice is hoarse when he says my name.

 My pace quickens and the added friction of his briefs acting as a barrier brings me more pleasure than I expected. I lick and kiss all over his neck to hear more of his husky groans. 

 “Tell me if you want me to stop, Toji,” I say barely above a whisper. “Do you want me to?”

 He grabs my hips and rolls me on him faster. “Fuck no.” 

 It’s not sex, but fuck, this feels so good. The material of his briefs has me feeling Toji like he is bare under me. Dry humping might be a virgin thing to do, however, it’s aiding me in a much needed orgasm. 

 I take one of Toji’s hands to hike up my shirt and squeeze my nipples, having me arch my back in pure bliss. He’s just so hard. I’m very tempted to pull him out and ride his dick, but I’m not ready for that yet. 

 Our moans continue to mingle the quicker we chase our release, and I feel myself soaking up his briefs. Embarrassment fills my emotions from how needy I sound, along with my whimpering. Toji forces our lips together to devour all my sounds of pleasure, biting and sucking on my bottom lip that he can’t get enough of. 

 My sudden change of movements from grinding on his cock to bouncing and rolling seems to have an effect on him, just as much as it does to me. 

 “Fuck, you’re going to make me bust in my fucking boxers like I never had pussy before, Y/N,” he admits. “Keep doing that.”

 “Maybe because you never had mine.”

 Something about my words had Toji growling and flipping me over, where he’s now above me. The look in his eyes is almost primal. No. It is primal. Hungry, craving to feast on me until I tap out. 

 Before I protest from his loss touch, his lips are back on me, and he dry fucks me as if he’s actually inside of my pussy. His hips snaps into mine while dragging his mouth across my face and neck. Toji continues to pinch my nipples underneath my shirt and I'm a whining mess. 

 “Toji, I’m about to come,” I cry. 

 “Why do you sound so fucking sweet? How are you going to sound when my cock is actually inside of you?” Too many questions where I’m too horny to form an answer. “You think you could take me, pretty girl?”

 “Yes.”

 He chuckles, showing mockery to my answer. “We’ll see.”

 Why did that laugh, those two words, trigger me to come? It hit me hard, and blurred my vision with the tears that pricked my eyes. Toji’s presence was enough serotonin, but this? Nothing or no one could possibly ruin my day after this. 

 I softly gasp for air and it’s as if he knew to kiss me with such eagerness to breathe all the life back into me. Holding him tightly, I wrap my legs around his waist to take his thrusts and swallow his harsh grunts. 

 “About to fucking come, Y/N,” he growls. 

 “So come.”

 He gives me a few more dry thrusts until the bed creaks and the headboard hits the wall before coming in his briefs. 

 Toji gives me a sloppy kiss, overpowering, and not giving me a chance to keep up with his moments. Coming down from our orgasms together is an experience I never expected to happen so soon, but it felt right to do it now. 

 I’m completely sober to remember this moment with Toji. 

 Our breaths are shallow and his forehead rests on mine. Soon, he slowly rises from me to look at the mess we, well, I made on his briefs.

 They’re drenched. While he pulls apart a string of my wetness connects to him that makes my cheeks warm and causes me to look away. I know I shouldn’t be embarrassed, but I am. 

 “You’re so… fucking wet.” His deep and raspy voice soothes me. I feel his hand grasping my chin to turn my face to him. “Beautiful.”

 “Not into the lovey dovey shit, huh?” I say, repeating the words he said to me last night. 

 He scratches the back of his neck. “Sorry about that. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. What you said was right, wanting to scare people away and shit.”

 I don’t want to interrupt his thoughts so I nod my head so he can continue.

 “I’m not good at relationships. Only been in one and, well… you know how that ended.”

 I stand on my knees to level with his eyes. “I’m not asking for a relationship from you. Not now, at least. Let’s just get to know each other.”

 He looks at me to consider my request, eyes wavering across my face. His hand goes to spring the tendril in my face, and I remember to curse myself later for now putting on my bonnet. 

 Toji takes his time to caress my face, line out my jaw, cuff my neck, and trace my collarbone. His touch is delicate yet burns through my skin. If I can feel this all day, I know I would be okay. 

 “Alright.”

 “Alright?” I repeat.

 He nods, giving me a half smile. “Alright.”

 Again, my arms are around his neck, and I pull him into a kiss for a few more minutes before I head out for the day. 

 Having lunch with my ex-fiancé, who is also my boss, is not how I wanted to spend my afternoon, but here I am anyway.

 After I spoke to Nanami this past Monday about potentially having dinner with him last night, it completely slipped my mind that I had a bachelorette party to attend. I’m rushing at five in the evening to grade tests for six different classes because my free period was used for a parent-teacher conference, and here comes Nanami coming in my classroom to see if we can still go to dinner. 

 I was honestly shocked that he had the nerve to ask me that question, like I want to spend my weekend grading papers. Unlike him, I like to enjoy my only two days off without thinking about work. 

 But when it comes to him? I’m sure he expected me to drop everything and accompany him to dinner. 

 Nanami stopped doing that for me, so why would I do that for him? 

 Anyways. 

 Because I wanted to see why he was so eager to talk to me, I decided to allow him to take me out to lunch today so we could talk. To see how things are going. His words, not mine.

 “How was the bachelorette party?” He queries, pulling me from my thoughts. 

 I sip on my sparkling water. “It was fun. Had too many drinks. So, I still feel a bit sluggish.”

��“I see. I know the martinis here are your favorite. Too bad you can’t drink any.”

 “Not unless you want me to puke everywhere.”

 Silence. 

 This is exactly what I was worried about. Is this why Nanami wanted to meet up? To have awkwardness while eating eggs and waffles? The chemistry. The love, at least, the love I had for him, died. A long time ago. This feels trivial. 

 “You brought me to one of the restaurants we used to go to together, you ordered my entire meal because you know me ever so well, and now we’re struggling to make small talk.” I come in hard with my accusations. “What did you want to talk about?”

 “I want us to try to make things work, Y/N.”

 I laugh. “That’s not happening. We tried twice. How many times do you need?”

 “Now? Just one. I know I haven’t been the best in our relationship, but these months without you made me realize there’s more important things in life,” he explains. “Memories. Marriage. Parenthood… I eventually want to build that with you if you allow me.”

 “If I allow you?” I mock. “That’s the thing, Ken. I never was opposed to any of that. You knew how much getting married and becoming a mother meant to me. I didn’t take away from you. You took that away from us.” 

 “I’m sorry.”

 I scoff. “Sorry for what? For staying late at work? For declining me sex? For having me to go to our friends get togethers alone? What exactly are you sorry for?”

 I attack Nanami with all these questions because it honestly fucking amazes me that he invited me to lunch to try to convince me to give another chance. 

 We were together for five years. Engaged for one. Problems began two years prior. I’ve been more than patient with Nanami. I was the only person to actually understand how he feels because I’m a freaking teacher. Work is hard on me, too. 

 But the difference is, I know how to keep it at school. Yeah, maybe I have my days when I have to grade at home. However, when it came to Nanami? I dropped the world for him…

 Why couldn’t he do that for me?

 I’m not going to cry over him in front of him. Not here. Not now, so this lunch needs to be cut short. 

 “I’m sure you’re sorry, Kento. Actually, I know you are,” I tell him. “I can’t act like we didn't share some amazing memories. The love you had for me when you were in our relationship was beautiful. You made me light.”

 “I still lov-”

 “But you also hurt me—badly.” I gather my things to leave him at the table, but before I do. I say one more thing to him. “I don’t think I forgave you yet. If you want to be friends, cool. Give me time for that. But romantically? There’s no chance for that anymore.”

 Nanami’s hand sits in lap, and if I know him like I think I do, they’re probably balled up in fists. I know his anger isn’t directed toward me, but at the reality of our demise. 

 “Okay… I understand. I’ll give you time, Y/N.”

 “Thank you.” I give him a solemn smile. “See you around, Ken. Take care of yourself.”

PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER

discussion question #1 — we see both reader and toji becoming familiar with each other, and trying to figure out why they don't feel like strangers. based on their interactions, who do you think will fall in love first?

[cheese-ducks]

TWRP ORIGINS

Chapter 5: Insanity Wears High Tops

Main master list

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(Warnings: light swearing)

"Greetings, human. In my band's ongoing campaign to end boredom the universe over, we seek to unite all children of the cosmos to join our cause, one planet at a time." The cone boy said. "This is what brings me to you. It shattered my perception of reality to learn recently that fifth dimensional beings, such as myself, cannot materialize on your planet."

"I'm sorry, fifth dimensional?" Jack interjected. 

"Again, human, you need not apologize for what happened. The fault is all mine." 

His confidence was a bit overwhelming, so Jack didn't correct him.

 "So I needed a stable host with a corporeal form, which in this case is you, to continue my work. Earth continues to amaze me, but I digress. Allow me to introduce myself and my intentions,"

A strange feeling of relief came over Jack. He wasn't going crazy, he was actually possessed. A whole new set of problems came with that knowledge, but he didn't need to think about the implications right now.

"I am Doctor Sung; intergalactic groove crusader; ageless meta-being of the cosmos; and frontman of the band TWRP. Aside from keytar and synthesexory manipulation, my role within the band lies in interdimensional diplomacy, communications, and female seduction, and as such I am the band's primary representative here on Earth." Jack nodded like he understood any of that.

"Despite our fairly recent crash land and the fact that we're basically stranded here, I'm certain that TWRP's dominance of Earth draws one step nearer. It is our intention to oust the forces that would hinder the advancement of fun and joy and replace them with tools of entertainment..." 

Sung went on and on, as if he liked hearing the sound of his own voice. This was unbelievable. It was like something out of a movie. Jack didn't really know how to feel about this revelation. What would he tell his family? Was this even real? It had to be, he saw the spaceship himself and the alien sightings started after that night. This was definitely real. He felt strangely flattered by Sung's explanation so far. Out of all the people in Halifax this interdimensional superhero could've picked, he chose Jack. His weirdness led him to this surreal situation, no normal person would have approached a burning spaceship in the middle of the woods. Maybe being weird was actually going to pay off.

"And of course, frenzied dance parties will continue to erupt in our wake, replacing human sadness with cosmic elation. But we can't do this alone. I need your help."

"Why me, specifically?" Jack was almost scared of knowing the answer. 

"The unlikelihood of finding a host that has such a striking resemblance to me cannot be denied. If we're going to complete our mission I would still need you as a vessel." Sung's voice had a rare twinge of shame. 

"I would be willing to discuss with you how you'd like to go about doing that. It's truly the least I could do after today." 

Jack heard the sound of pounding footsteps racing up the stairs and darting past his bedroom. 

"I would like to discuss a game plan for this, among other things, but can you wait until everyone falls asleep?"  

Sung could sense the stark shift in Jack's emotions. Before it was mostly confusion with some admiration sprinkled in, who could blame him, but his whispered plea was practically made of pure stress. An immense amount of fear for someone not in immediate danger. It perplexed him, but he honored the request. 

"I shall return when everyone is asleep, and until then I wish you fewer negative emotions." 

Before Jack could figure out if that was meant to be an insult or not there was a knock at his door. He immediately climbed into bed and pretended to sleep.

"You're being too loud! Your brother's not feeling well!" His mom shouted at the band of lightly buzzed children. She opened the door a crack and went back downstairs. 

"How about you sleep over at your friend's house tonight, Stan?"

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

Jack sat on the couch eating a small plate of nachos. They somehow tasted better at two in the morning. He looked over at Sung, who was staring in bewilderment at the midnight snack. 

"Did you want some?" Jack held out a chip.

"I doubt I could eat in this form, plus I'm not even certain what that is." Sung didn't need to eat as frequently as his band mates, so he really only ate out of necessity. He couldn't fathom the idea that someone would eat out of boredom or for enjoyment. 

"Ok then, more for me." He patted the cushion next to him but Sung declined.

"I have so many questions, could we cover some of those before the game plan?" 

"First, I must ask you something." 

Jack set the nachos to the side nervously. Sung sensed that same fear and stress from earlier. Why was he doing that? It was probably a question for later considering his first question was overdue. 

"What is your name, human?" 

The tension instantaneously left his body as he answered. How was he doing that? 

"Oh, it's Jack." He was back to his original position on the couch, nachos in hand. 

"Simple, efficient, I like that name." His pleased nod being amplified by the pylon helmet. "You may proceed with your questions." 

Jack took a pause remembering all the crazy shit he'd been through. For the first time in a while his mind felt clear.

"What's with the cone hat?"

"A pylon can be worn for many reasons; fashion, power, dominance." He paced the living room floor, cape flowing behind him.

"It sounds like you're compensating for something." Jack snickered.

"Well, when you're as cool and tall and handsome and heroic and tall as I am you don't need to. May we move on?" 

"Sure, man." He stifled his laughter. Maybe that was the key to Sung's infinite confidence: straight up denial. 

"Why was I blacking out so often, and what are you doing to my memories?"

"I figured if I took control of the vessel while you were unconscious you wouldn't have noticed. I had no idea that I was causing you to go unconscious. Again, I deeply apologize." He stopped in front of Jack and crossed his arms. "And as for your memory I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Seriously?" Jack stood up, almost angry Sung was treating that so casually. "Random flashbacks, almost daily amnesia, forgetting how to do basic shit? I would randomly forget how to read! You've got no explanation for that?"

Sung paused as he processed this completely new information. "Do human memories not do that?"

'How clueless is this guy?' Jack thought to himself. 

"No they do not, and I would like it to stop."

"You have my word."

He sat back down, nearly choking on a chip from laugter. He needed to know if Joe was fucking with him.

"Were you fighting a lion and robot in the parking lot of a guitar center?" 

Sung's smile instantly changed to an annoyed frown. 

"Believe me when I tell you they deserved it." 

"And with that I think I'm ready to discuss the game plan." Jack answered quickly as he put down the nachos.

"I'm gonna preface this with I have no idea how this could work but the fact that I'm even going through with this is nuts! Is this as surreal for you as it is for me?" 

"Considering this is the first time I've ever taken a host and I'm completely fucking it up, I would say yes." Sung sat down next to Jack. "In case you couldn't tell I'm not used to fucking up. You can't exactly afford to when saving the universe. It's just not an option when the stakes are that high, so I don't." 

"You think you have to save the universe all by yourself?" 

"I'm used to handling things by myself." 

Jack couldn't tell if he was downplaying his emotions or it legitimately didn't bother him.

"I mean, I would say that's kinda sad if I didn't get it." There was a key difference, however. Jack kind of liked to be alone, he didn't think he had to be. "Maybe your voice was in the back of my mind before the crash." He joked. 

Sung jumped off the couch and pointed at him.

"My voice in the back of your mind, you may have something there, Jack."

[shadowmaat]

Mischief and Misinformation, part 4

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3)

Quinlan Vos was exhausted. His whole body burned with it. Even his locs were tired. But at least the training mission had gone well. There'd barely even been any explosions.

Of course just because the mission was over didn't mean his headaches were.

"But why?" asked an entirely-too-chipper voice behind him.

He bit back a groan. Somewhere in the Temple, he knew his Master was laughing at him.

"Because," he growled at his Padawan.

"Because why?" Aayla asked, unrepentant as always.

She was too old to be in the why stage, but that wasn't stopping her. When he'd asked her why, she'd quoted Master Yoda's bullshit about how Padawans learned from Masters, but Masters also learned from Padawans. The next time he saw the little troll he was going to punt him out the window.

"Because the Force wills it," he said. He couldn't even remember what the original question had been. All he wanted was bed. And a shower. Or maybe drag his bed into the shower.

"Why-"

"The Force wills many things, Knight Vos," interrupted a voice from his nightmares, "But some of them are entirely the fault of younglings with more hubris than sense."

He snapped upright, putting on his best smile.

"Master Nu! What an absolute delight it is to see your lovely young face out of the Archives."

Her look could strip the paint off a star destroyer. He tried to get his sluggish brain to work; had he forgotten to return something? Had Aayla?

"If you'll excuse us, Padawan Secura," Nu said, favoring Aayla with a frosty smile, "I'm afraid your Master and I need to discuss something."

Warning prickled in the Force.

"Actually, Master..." He started to back up. "Aayla was just asking me about some important after-mission procedures-"

"I asked if I could have a tooka," the little traitor interjected.

"Right, the Tooka Initiative, and I was just-"

"QUINLAN VOS YOU ABSOLUTE BAS- BROCCOLI!"

Quin had never been so relieved to see Obi-Wan, even if his friend looked like a human thundercloud.

"Obi-Wan!" Grinning, he made straight for the little storm, preferring it to whatever cataclysm Nu had planned. "Right on time! Always good to see you! Come along, Aayla," he stage whispered before continuing to address Obi-Wan. "Why don't we go catch up over lunch! Dinner? Breakfast! Whatever meal it is!"

"Do NOT think you can charm your way out of this, Vos!" Nu warned behind him.

"Quin, do you have ANY idea how much trouble you've caused me?" Obi-Wan snapped, coming to a halt in front of him.

"Uh, I'm sure this is just some misunderstanding!" Quin raised his hands, his smile growing a little strained.

A crinkle of cellophane had him glancing aside to see Aayla sat on the floor of the hangar, munching from a bag of poppers. Traitor.

"Knight Kenobi," Nu said. "While I appreciate that your grievance is a personal one, may I remind you that it started because Knight Vos sliced my Archive and altered my information?"

Adrenaline was working wonders for his thinking. Slicing the Archive? He hadn't done that since...

"Oh, shit, someone finally found that?" He burst out laughing, ignoring Obi-Wan's hiss and hand-flap at Aayla. She'd heard worse language. Hell, most of it she'd learned from Anakin.

"I'm glad you find the matter of the Archive's security so amusing, Knight Vos."

Nu's tone was so chilly he half-expected his breath to fog.

"Look, I'm sorry, Jo- Master," he corrected, seeing the look in her eye. "That was ages ago and I honestly forgot all about it or I might have corrected it myself."

Not likely, but it was what everyone wanted to hear.

"This isn't about correcting it," Nu said, "it's about you doing it in the first place!"

"Why?"

The question was barely a whisper, but it cut right through his amusement to hit him in the heart. He looked at Obi-Wan and fought the urge to look away again.

His friend's renewed grief was his fault; even if he hadn't intended it, even if he couldn't have known what would happen, he had to own that responsibility.

"I'm sorry, Obes. Truly. I had no idea my little prank would remain undiscovered for so long, or that..."

"Half the Temple now seems to think Master Jinn was some kind of- of irresponsible monster."

Quin winced, moving forward to hug Obi-Wan. "I never liked him, but yeah, he was really good for you. Like, tooth-rottingly good."

Obi-Wan snorted into his shoulder.

"That was half the joke, you know. Everyone back then knew how amazing the two of you were together. If my edits had been found back then it would've been obvious something was wrong."

Small arms hooked around his waist and Obi-Wan's as Aayla joined the hug, her poppers abandoned.

"Life is always in motion, Knight Vos." Master Nu's voice was softer than it had been. "It's always changing, as are we, and what was once common knowledge becomes obscure." She sighed. "It's why the accuracy of the Archives is so important."

Obi-Wan took a shuddering breath and stepped back, looking Quin in the eye. Quin mouthed another apology and he nodded.

"You're assigned to the Archives until I say otherwise," Nu continued. "The damage you did has been fixed, but we're going to go through the whole Archive to see if anyone else took advantage of the security flaw to change our records."

Quin made a face, earning a weak smile from Obi-Wan. Going through the Archives would be so boring, but while he'd never admit it, Master Nu was right; accuracy was important.

"Understood, Master Nu," he said. "I think I may also write up a more truthful account of the Jinn-Kenobi Power Partnership and get it put in the Temple Tracker."

Everyone kept up with the Tracker; the fastest way to disseminate information in the Temple. Other than rumor, itself, which clearly had its downsides.

Nu made a sound of approval. "An excellent idea. See you first thing in the morning, Knight Vos." She paused. "My morning."

Bootheels clicked as she left.

"You know her mornings start at-"

"I know." Quin sighed the sigh of the doomed.

Obi-Wan's smile was a little more solid this time. "I'm still mad at you, you know."

"I know," he said. "And I'm grown up enough to admit I deserve it."

"You? Grown up?" Obi-Wan looked down at Aayla. "Is this true?"

She shook her head. "On Zug he got his head stuck in a-"

"Hey, now," Quin put a hand over her mouth, which did little to stifle her giggles. "Don't listen to her, she thinks black melons taste good."

An indignant squeal answered this.

"Oh, I think the two of us could share some very interesting stories," Obi-Wan said, winking at Aayla.

"No, you couldn't," Quin said, alarmed at the idea of them comparing notes, but relieved that for now, at least, his friend had recovered some of his equilibrium.

Aayla pulled his hand away from her mouth, careful not to touch skin.

"Wanna eat with us?" she asked. "We just got back and I'm tired, but also hungry, and so's Master even though he won't say it."

"Tired, yes. Hungry?" Quin shrugged, but the gurgling of his stomach betrayed him.

The hesitation on Obi-Wan's face melted into amusement.

"I was on my way to grab some caf and a muffin," he said.

"Oh, good!" Aayla reached up, taking his hand and leading him away. "I can tell you all about the tooka Master promised I could get."

"I promised nothing of the sort!" Quin caught up, draping an arm over Obi-Wan's shoulder. "Like I said, nothing but lies from this kid."

"Gee, I wonder where she learned that?"

They were teaming up against him. That spelled trouble for the future, but right now, he was happy to be with two of his favorite people.

[byrdstrolls]

Mysteries Are Like Onions Part Two

Barely sits in a curled little perch by the train window. The wrappings of two sandwiches on the table that separates him from Miss Laryan. The woman seems to have calmed down a whole lot, spending time idly working on a crossword. His eye’s not leaving the landscape rolling by, Barely says,

“Tell me one more time, Miss Laryan.” 

“Barely,” She sighs. “I keep sayin’, that’s really all I remember.�� 

“Please Miss,” He pleads. “I’m just thinkin’”

“Alright” She huffs. “I was rushin’ out of work, late on papers again. I put the land exchange receipt in my wallet. I might’a left it there, might’a not. I locked up. I headed home, put my coat on the rank, and went straight to bed. Next evenin’, I woke up, and went to the station.”

“And you’re absolutely sure, no one else was there?” The rust interjects. 

“Yes, Barely” She sighs. “Not a soul.” 

The child's stare hardens. 

“And I had worked myself into a tizzy” She says, “About Vekeso and Damial fallin’ out, and visitin’ Shercattle.” 

“And you fainted.” Barely says.

“Well” She huffs. “I must’ve. I woke up on the ground.” 

“Are you sure no one could’a attacked you? From behind?” He questions. 

“Barely” She chuckles. “If I got whacked up the head I think I’d have a whole lot more of’a headache than I do now. I’ve fallen off horses when I was a pupa- that stuff hurts!” 

“And no one was there, when you woke up?” He says. Wishing longingly he’d checked the footprints around the train station before the two of them left. 

“Not a soul.” She says. “I dusted myself off, and started pacin’ and that's when I saw you.”

The detective sighs. 

“What’s a ten letter word,” Miss Laryan begins, starting her own line of questioning. “Fourth letter ‘R’ seventh letter ‘T’- for the bendin’ of light as it passes through somethin?” 

Barely seems crabby, frustrated with the change of topic and also perhaps being stuck on a train all day. But in all his politeness, and perhaps, his teacher's pet-like quality of always wanting to seem intelligent, he gives her crossword honest thought. He scribes down a few possible words, frowning, before he lands on one.

“Try Refraction, Miss.” He says. “Maybe we should think harder about motive. Why’d someone wanna hide a land receipt? Do you think…” He trails off, wishing he got to question more people in Baskertop. “Maybe a cowpoke was lookin’ to stop rentin’ from the mayor..?”

“It was older than that” She huffs. “I can’t remember the exact date- But. Musta been at least a half a sweep ago. Nothin’ recent.” 

Barely sighs, biting so forcefully at his necklace Miss Laryan grimaces, worried he’ll break the pretty little thing.  

“Don’t worry ur little pan too hard, Barely” She reassures. “I’m sure we’ll figure it out together.” 

“...Thank you, Miss” He says. But doesn’t sound altogether convinced. Loose, scrambled thoughts tangle in knots in his head, his leg bouncing on the train's floor and tail twitching idly conveying his restlessness, like a cow swatting flies on a field. He’s trying to distract himself, watching the world go by. He’s seen the distance turn from slow rolling plains to hills dotted with farms, the green lushness of the river peaking in and out by the tracks. Shercattle seems a bit more populous than Baskertop, but not by much. Neither town could have more than 200 trolls. Something was hiding here, in plain sight. Desperate to keep a hold of a grip of control that was fragile enough to be toppled by a single paper. 

“Three letter word” Miss Laryan says, “For a conscious thinkin’ subject in philosophy, last letter ‘O’”

Barely blinks, watching the landscape slow as the train pulls into the Shercattle station. He doesn’t need to write down test words this time. He knows this one. 

“Ego” The Detective says. 

.

.

.

.

.

A farmhive sits on the edge of the road. The lawn seems to have been trimmed and weeded almost obsessively. It looks to have been recently painted, a uniform alternian black, but if the moonlight hit it just right, Barely notes, you could see the traces of the original purple coat. He doesn’t think too hard or too long on what the reason for the remodeling could be. Because, well, it’s obvious. On the edge of the path leading up to the door, a sign on a small pole reads- “OPEN HIVE! YOUR NEIGHBOR REALITY”. They must’ve spruced it up to be sold.

Miss Laryan is taking in the sight of this a great deal less calmly than Barely seems to be. 

“Why would Damial move??” She says, having started a frantic pacing, again. “Was he in some kinda money trouble, why, we coulda helped him! Why didn’t I hear about this!”

“Miss Laryan,” Barely says. “Didn’t you say him and Vekeso had a fallin’ out?”

“You think maybe that was because of this?” She stumbles. “You think that receipt has anythin’ to do with it?”

“Well” Barely says. “Half a sweep seems a frightful long time to wait to putta hive on the market” he says, gesturing. “And this is an open hive.” He thinks. “Don’t work yourself up, Miss, he coulda bought ‘imself a nicer farm, right?”

“Right” She says, her shoulders losing a little bit of their tension. “But… where will we stay today? He coulda moved all the way to the city for all we know.”

“Why don’t we head downtown?” The teenager shrugs. “And ask around about what happened here” He says. 

She pauses. “...Alright” She says. So the two of them begin a trek back towards the heart of Shercattle. 

“Everythin’s been so strange lately” She mutters. “I can’t help but think somethin’ awful’s happened. Messiahs put a curse on these towns.” 

The rustblood pauses, something incomprehensible passing through his expression. One might’ve thought he was a touch too smart for superstition. But on a world like Alternia, well, sometimes the smart thing to do is to pay folktales some mind. 

“There are many kinds’a curses, Miss Laryan” He says. “Some Messiahs, some witches, some good ol’ fashioned chance.” He lists. Sure acting like he knows a lot on the matter, curiously. “And some,” he says. “Just a regular troll movin’ his hands so fast and so quiet when your money disappears it feels like magic.” 

“Not much a detective can do about the first three.” She sighs. “Maybe i shoulda found a lil’ priest.” She jokes, ruffling his hair. 

Barely huffs, allowing this fond action on her part only because he really did like Miss Laryan, even though trolls treating him his age often made him feel kinda silly.

“You’d be surprised-” he says, and then pauses. “-Hey!” he says. “That's the same store that was in Baskertop” the child says, hurrying over to peek into the window of another DUNNERMART. “And the same guy” he says, glancing at Dunner, who waves.

“Oh,” Laryan says, rushing to keep up. “That fish is everywhere” She surmises. The bell dings as Barely enters the shop, both eager to integrate Dunner again now that it seemed he could have eyes on so many places, and a little hungry. 

“Fancy seein’ you here,” Barely grins. 

“I’m the CEO, son. I check in at a lot of the locations.” The fushia chuckles, pausing his restocking of a wiener rack. 

“Interestin’” The kid says, gnawing on his necklace as he walks over to look at the candy. 

“What’re you doin’ up in Shercattle?” The man asks. Barely pauses, suddenly acutely aware Miss Laryan had not followed him into the store. A quick glance out the window confirms that she, just as Barely had, had recalled her possible fugitive status, and decided not to enter. 

“Just passin’ through” Barely says, picking up a bag of those gummy sharks. “On my way to the express line.” 

“Lil’ guy like you headin’ all the way to the city alone?” Dunner frowns. 

“I’m somethin’ of a wiz kid, Mister Dunner.” he says. “I can handle myself” 

“If ya say so” Dunner shrugs, adjusting his employee ‘hi my name is dunner’ tag on his white uniform. 

“You see the open hive down the road?” Barely asks. 

“Yeah, I seen it” Dunner sighs. “A damn shame. Damial used to be an upstandin’ gentleman, back in the day”

The detective exhales. This did not seem to bode well for Miss Laryan’s friend, and he didn’t look forward to telling her. 

“What happened?” The rust asks.

“There was a big illness” Dunner sighs. “Tore through the milkcows a season ago. Lotta farms went outta business.” 

Barely frowns.”I didn’t hear about that from any of the cowpokes down south” He inquires. 

“Well, thank the messiahs, we quarantined,” Dunner shrugs. “I shut down my dairy factory as soon as I heard- it didn’t make it in any cows there either. Baskertop was fine. But all the same. Damial’s farm didn’t make it. Cows died. Ran outta business. I offered him a job at my factory, but he didn’t take it. Had too much pride in ‘em. He-” The shopkeep pauses. “I dunno if I should tell you til you’re grown, son.” he sighs. 

“I can handle it” The teenager insists, standing up as tall as he can over the counter, notebook clenched in his hand, hangin on every word. Dunner looks to the side, breathes out, and then turns back again. 

“Let’s just say he started goin’ down to Lar’s a bit too often” The clerk says, delicately, mentioning Shercattle’s only bar. “Musta kept her in business, a guy that big. Musta took a lot to make ‘em drunk but he managed. Started lashin’ out at everynight people who didn’t do nothin’ wrong. Always groanin’ about his jadeblood sweetheart down the way who did ‘em wrong. And well you didn’t hear it here, but the two of them never even dated. Probably smart of Vekeso to walk away from that one. Damial, he’s well, mostly just a sad sight and general nuisance to the folks in town now.” 

“I see…” Barely says, pausing his scribbling. 

“I’d stay away from that one, if I were you son. You know what they say about purples.” Dunner warns. Dunner seems to be full of these kinds of warnings. Maybe he was paranoid, maybe he was on to something, it was yet to be seen. 

Barely, the end of Dunner’s sentence echoing in his mind, grips the candy in his hand. 

“Is the first candy also on the hive…?” he asks, hopefully. 

“No,” Dunner says. “You gotta pay for that one.” 

The rust checks his pockets, and sighs, before pausing. 

“Mister Dunner” He begins. “You may not know this, but I’m a high class detective. You wouldn’t happen to have a mystery that needs crackin’ I could solve in exchange for this, wouldya?” 

The seadweller’s eyebrows raise.

“Well…” he pauses. “Matter of fact, I do.” He says. “I’ve been tallyin’ up the math overday, and it seems like sometrolls been takin’ money outta the register when I’m not around. It’d save me a pretty dollar from havin’ to buy a camera if you could find out who” 

“Gladly, Mister.” Barely says, perking up. “When do you switch shifts?” 

“In two hours” he says, a tiny frown appearing on his face as Barely pulls open the bag, despite what he had just agreed. 

“I’ll be back then” Barely says. 

“You’re gonna just walk outta here” Dunner says slowly, “And never come back, Detective Barely? I might have t’call the sheriff if you did such a thing, and I don’t wanna do that.” 

The rustbloods ears flatten, he pops his necklace out of his mouth and pops a gummy into it. This bag couldn’t cost more than three bucks. 

“I won’t Mister Dunner, I promise” He says, flipping to a new page on his notepad and scribbling down the words 

‘DUNNER TRUSTS NO ONE’.

.

.

.

.

.

In the two hours before he had to go keep an eye on the DunnerMart, Barely decides to head down to Lar’s Bar. He had found some kind of errand with which to distract Miss Laryan, who he both didn’t want to break the news about Damial too, and worried she wouldn’t let him go in a bar because he’s six. He had asked for ten caegars for lunch. He contemplated just going back and paying Mister Dunner, who he wasn’t sure was serious or not about the sheriff thing, but in the end decided he was too much of a cheapskate. And the register case would probably be easy. 

So there he stood in front of the dingy lil’ place. The parking lot was sparse, it was still early in the night, at the time Barely hoped that it would be easy to talk with a resident alcoholic without being overheard. LARS BAR reads the neon sign, but the R has gone out, making it LA S BAR. Which, Barely briefly thought, was almost spanish for ‘the bar’. He shakes his head, trying to get himself back on track. Dunner’s warning still rings in his ears. He knew well enough not to bother most highbloods. But the store clerk had given a similar ominous statement regarding Miss Laryan, who wouldn’t hurt a fly. And Barely had often found that trolls that have something bad to say about everyone often had not much of substance to say at all. Easy to look down on a man out of hive, the rust had reckoned, when you are CEO of a chain company.

Barely entered the bar, the squeaking door announcing his presence. There are a few trolls, but most had the good sense to raise an eyebrow at him. The bartender, and two women at a table stare. The only troll that doesn’t even seem to notice is a hulking mass in a plaid shirt in the corner. Faint music is playing. The teenager swallows, straightening his back, and with all the courage he could muster, walks over to the bar, close up to that huge troll, pulling up a seat. 

“Shirley Temple” Barely says, pointing at the table, in the lowest voice he could muster. “On the rocks. One extra cherry.” He says, sliding a five caegar bill to the bartender. The woman just stares at it. The kid might have imagined it, but he thinks he might have heard the troll in the corner snort. 

“Are ya serious?” Says the bartender plainly. 

“Virgin Shirley Temple” Barely adds, with extra emphasis. “On the rocks. One extra cherry.” he repeats, adding another five caegar bill on top of the first one. “Missus bartender.” 

The heap in the corner laughs. 

“I know how to make a shirley” She huffs. “Mister Grown Up. You wouldn’t happen to have an ID? You know you’re supposedta find two other pupas and a trenchcoat at least, right?” 

The purpleblood in the corner rises from his slumber. 

“Oh, let him have it, Gon.” He laughs. “Kid’s thirsty.” 

Gon stares at Damial, as if, for good reason, her patience with the man was already rather thin. But then looks at the ten caesars, and sighs. She takes the money. 

There goes my lunch, Barely thinks. 

“Woulda thought your name was Lar’s” He enquires, having honestly mistaken the bartender for the owner, simply due to the commanding presence she had over the room. 

“HA!” She laughs, self righteous. “Lars is my moirial. Lazy ass. I do all the work around here. We should change the sign, ya hear? Little man knows it's my bar.” She grins, as if speaking to some imaginary audience. 

Barely smiles in return, only to see the expression fall from Gonnae’s face, as if she had just recalled he wasn’t supposed to be here. 

“But that don’t earn ya no points, oliver twist. I see a single pinky over the counter” She threatens. “You lose the finger. Ya hear me kid?” 

“Loud and clear, Missus Gon,” Says Barely. 

“Uh Oh” The drunk muses, idly stirring a plastic straw in his bourbon. 

“You too, basket case” Gon threatens, flicking the man upside the head. “I see Tiny Tim sneakin’ sips of your four roses I’m kickin’ you out and I MEAN IT I mean it this time” She growls, walking of to go make a shirley. 

“Sureeeeeeeeee” Damial slurs, and then says, to Barely, aside, “She don’t mean it. She loves me. She bought a new horse last week.” He whispers. 

“Some service” Barely jokes, glancing at the prices on the menu board, “For a generous tip.” Perhaps purposefully playing along with Damial to endear himself to the man. The purple cracks up again. Gon re-enters with a Shirley done up all fancy with a squiggly straw and everythin’, and a single extra cherry on a napkin. Barely is glad at the inclusion of the silly straw- it means he doesn’t have to take the necklace out of his mouth. She frowns.

“He’s funny before 2,” The bartender warns, of Damial, setting down Barely’s drink.  “But wait ‘bout three more glasses he gets nasty. Best be outta here by then.” 

She turns to the highblood, “Don’t be messin’ with that kid, Damial. I’m not playin’” She says, before exiting to go help the ladies down the way. 

“I pay your morgageeeeeee Gon” Damial drags out the word as Gon walks away. “You’re compliciiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit” He grins, stupid smile not leaving his face as he raises his glass to Barely. 

“L'Chaim” He says, to the rustblood. 

“L’chaim” Barely echos, clinking his shirley with the bourbon. 

The Detective briefly wonders where Damial gets the money, being outta a hive and job and all.

“What’s your name, kid?” 

“Barely Shyeck, Mister” He begins, “I’m a detective-” but the purpleblood is laughing at him again. 

“What on Alternia is a Shyeck” He stumbles. “‘N how can somebody be more er less of it?”

“You’d have to ask my lusus” Barely huffs, having had to have had this conversation about his name with more trolls than he’d prefer. 

“Lemme guess” Damial says, poking the boy’s forehead. “Cowwwwwwww” He says, in a remarkable observation of the kid’s ears, horns and tail. 

Barely swipes at his hand. 

“Wow” he says sarcastically. “Are you sure you’re not the detective Mister Damial?” 

“Soda’s a lot cheaper” Damial says, seeming to have either not heard or ignored the childs sarcasm, glancing at his fruity little drink. “An’ less hassle. Gon’s got a sharp eye, kid. Ya just wasted ten caegers. You ain’t gonna get nothin’ past her.” 

“Well, I didn’t come here for the alcohol” The detective admits. “Actually, Mister Damial, I came here to speak with you.” 

The man frowns. 

“If yer lil’ friends dared ya to pour a drink on me or somethin’, run back out before I change yer name to Barely Alive” He dismisses. 

“That’s not it,” Barely says softly, his tail twitching nervously. Thinking on the best way to approach this. All the best lies have a little bit of truth in them. 

“I was just talkin’ to the clerk down the road, Mister Damial, and he spun me a long yarn about you that didn’t regard you very kindly.” He pauses, made anxious by Damial’s silence. 

“Bein’ an educated young man” He says. “I don’t like formin’ an opinion on a troll til i’ve heard both sides of the story. And if you don’t mind, I’d like to hear yours.” 

Damial stares at the little guy, as if at a complete loss as to whether to take him seriously. If this was some kind of scheme the neighborhood pupas had fashioned to make fun of him it was a great deal more complicated and psychologically taxing than usual. 

“Ain’t nobody who wants to hear me monologue” He huffs. “Everyone in town knows.” 

“I wanna hear” Barely asserts, scooting his stool closer, attempting to sound confident. “I’m new in town, Mister Damial.” 

“You cared enough to waste ten caesars on it?” He slurs. 

“It’s not like I didn’t get soda and cherries outta the thing.” 

“For one cherry,” Damial jokes. “You can hear the whole thing” 

Barely frowns, gnawing on his necklace, frustrated, having asked for that extra cherry specifically and had been looking forward to it. Begrudgingly, he hands it to the ex dairy farmer, who promptly drops it in his bourbon, which must taste completely awful. 

The older troll sighs. For as much as he had insistantly told this tale to many a more hesitant audience, he felt strangely on the spot having been asked so nicely and by a child no less. There was enough decency left in him that recalled he liked to behave respectfully around pupa’s, if given the chance.  

“I used to know this cowboy down in Baskertop” He says quietly, looking to the side. “Mosta the dairy farmers up hereeeee… hav’a deal with one of the cowpokes for spring. We’ve got all cows- on account of bein’ dairy farms. They’ll ask one of the herders to lend them a bull for a spell, to breed a cow and get her producing more milk, and then come fall either give the too old mama to the ranchers or the bab, usually dependin’ on their gender. Partnership as old as time.” 

“Most farmers and cowpokes also argue and hassle and switch around and bargain and shit. But me and Vekeso didn’t really consider wandering about between traders worth our time and had a good deal of trust in each other and decided we would only ever trade amongst ourselves. Easy to grow fond of a man you only see once a season. We started makin’ a whole thing of it. We’d be havin’ each other over for dinners and drinks and just enjoyin’ each other's company even after business was done. I’ve never been one for quadrants” He says, pausing, and finishing his drink, struggling to articulate. 

“...Made a damn fool of myself a couple times when I was young, and got… scared to try again. Vekeso’s no… socialite in his own right. But eventually I realized I harbored some kind of feelin’s fer him. And most other people in our lives noticed how close we were as well and really seemed ta think I had an honest chance… But I was a coward” Damial stops, his voice cracking, he runs his hand through his hair. He stays still for a moment, before flagging down Gon. “Another one” he calls. “Put it on my tab.” 

The woman walks over, already pulling the bottle off the shelf to refill his drink. 

“What’s the magic word?” She mocks. 

“Ffdsssss…” he stumbles. “I have more caegars.” he jokes.

“Please” she huffs. 

“Please” He repeats, mockingly, sipping his new drink.

“What happened then?” Barely asks quietly. 

The purpleblood shuts his eyes for a moment, and then opens them again. 

“Every season” He says softly, but with a voice layered over with disdain that could only be for himself. “Every season I’d wake up and promise myself this’ll be the sweep I tell ‘em. Easy thing to say. Damn harder to do. I kept playin’ chicken.” He says, hand trembling as it grips that glass. 

“Then the illness came through.” he says. “Wiped out everythin’ in a single perigee. Poof.” He gestures. “Gone. I was fucked. I was panickin’. I started puttin’ all my hopes in that meetin’ coming up with Vekeso. Hoped he’d take pity on me enough to at least lend me a moobeast to get back on my feet…And if not that, at least have a piece of advice. I had never needed a hand to pull me outta a ditch more in my entire life” He says. The regret and moroseness of his previous statement solidifying into a harder anger. 

“What does he do…?” Damial slurs, lifting the glass and downing the rest of it, cherry and all. 

“He never shows.” The man growls. “Not even a warnin’. Not a word. Not an apology. Not an explanation. Just gone. And I’m left here wonderin’, what on heaven and alternia did I do wrong?”

“The townfolk already figured me a little messed in the head, fer turnin’ down a fancy job at Dunner’s damn factory. I don’t wanna supervise nobody. Treatin’ employees and cattle like machines ain’t the way I’ve done dairy, or my ancestor before me, or his ancestor before that. I But I really believed Vekeso smarter than to pay townspeoples muttering any mind. So I wrote him a letter. And maybe it was angry and hurt but so was I. I said everythin’ I wanted to say,” He cursed. 

“And he never deigned this worthy of a reply neither.” He growls, staring daggers at the bar wall. “One more, Gon” he calls. 

The young detective pauses his scribbling, flipping over a few pages of his notepad, back to the night he’d spoken with Vekeso, and stared. He turns his necklace against his teeth. He looks at his writing, and then back at the highblood, who looked ready to throw something. Trying to remember just how many glasses Damial had had now and what was his ratio of funny to nasty according to Gon’s metric. Barely wasn’t above a well placed lie, even a quiet one by omission, but sometimes, it just feels like the truth is owed to somebody, and it seems long, long overdue for Damial. 

“If you’d hear me out, Mister Damial” The child says. “I think I know why.”

The man turns his head to the kid, staring, not with much curiosity but more annoyance as if he could not imagine this to be true. Barely swallows.

“I talked with him just yesterday, Mister.” He says. “Did you know that after the Fleetrail went in, Vekeso and the other cowpokes had been grazin’ on that Redgrass Ranch, the mayor lent to em?” He says, pausing for an answer, and upon getting none, continues. 

“He told me offhand,” Barely says. “That since it was the Mayor’s land, there were all kinds of rules and restrictions on it” he says. “One of them bein’ rules on who you could sell cattle too” He stumbles. 

Damial stares blank eyed at the wall, and Barely begins to ponder if he was even sober enough to comprehend what was being said to him. Suddenly, his face lights up and he throws his glass at the wall with full force. 

“motherFUCKER” the purple raises his voice, “I HOPE HE DIES IN HIS STUPID SHIRT.”and Barely flinches. Gon’s eye’s widen with rage, and she sets down the bottle she’s holding. 

“Out” The woman insists, pointing at the door.

“Fuck off, Gon” The man curses. 

“You have ten seconds” She hisses. “To get out of my bar” 

“Or what?” The purple mocks. 

Slowly, the woman pulls a pistol from her pocket, aiming it squarely at Damial’s head. 

“Ten” She says. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” He hisses. 

“Nine” She says.

“I didn’t even throw it AT somebody” says Damial, as if this makes it better somehow. 

“Eight” She growls. 

“Bitch” 

“Seven” the bartender insists. 

Damial stares into her eyes for a moment, and then slowly, raises to his feet, tossing his stool over. 

“FIne” He hisses, storming out of the building. Gon watches to make sure he’s really gone for a moment before lowering her gun. 

“You okay kid?” She asks. 

“Yes Missus Gon” Says Barely, dropping his necklace temporarily and downing the last of his shirley and walking out to follow the highblood.

“Kid!” Gon pleads. “Don’t be an idiot!” She says, but the young man is already gone. 

Damial is sitting on the curb outside. “I fucking hate that bitch” The man is muttering to himself. “He thinks he’s so much better than everyone. If I could kill him, I would.” 

“Vekeso…?” Barely asks slowly. 

“THE MAYOR” Damial snaps back. 

“Don’t Shercattle have a different Mayor than Baskertop?” The kid asks timidly. 

“It’s a fuckin’, muni-cip-pall-ity” Damial slurs. “The three towns are too small, fleet gave us one bastard for all of em. BUT WHO CARES. I’ll kill him. Vekeso too. Who gives a fuck.” 

The child stares, before sitting down next to the much larger man. 

“I’m not sayin’ you did nothin’ wrong, Mister Damial.” He starts. “But did you mention how dire things were up in Shercattle in your letter?”

“No. It wasn’t ‘bout that” The man says, hands gripping his sides, as if restless with the lack of drink in his hand. 

“I’m just tryin’” Barely says. “Too look at this from another pointa view. I didn’t talk with Vekeso for long, but… From what I saw, he really seemed to be a very private person, the kinda troll who thinks long an’ hard on what they’re sayin’ before sayin’ it.” He dares. 

Damial holds himself close. With the tired look in his eyes of a troll who had given a great deal of thought to Vekeso, and all his mannerisms for a long while, and couldn’t argue.

“And somethin’ like some regulation tearin’ apart a friendship he’d had for sweeps, really seems like somethin’ to toil about. I ain’t sayin’ it was right of him to not tell you nothin’. But…” Barely exhales. “You didn’t really give him a lotta chance to give ya any grace, not mentionin’ yer situation in yer letter. He’d have no idea how dire things were. All he’d know is you’re suddenly very very angry with him, and that could easily put a troll off a conversation he mighta already been scared and guilty to be havin’.” 

Damial seems to ponder this for a long while. Staring up at the pinks and greens of the night sky, where, in the distance, impressive storm clouds had started to gather, cutting off the view of the moons with color tinted stripes and clumps that danced across the horizon like a painting. Even a troll as big as he was, could feel small under a view like that. 

“It don’t matter” he says finally, his voice cracking. 

“Vekeso could hand me a hive an’ a cow and farm back on a silver platter. I don’t even know if I could work it” He says, struggling to keep his voice even. 

“Even if he wanted me then- big IF. I’m not the troll I was a sweep ago. What could I even offer a lover, or a friend, even if everythin’ smoothed out with a bow on top. No farm, no hive, no job. Jus’ layin’ in the hole I dug wishin’ I could feel somethin’ again. If there was anything to love about me, it’s long gone.” The purpleblood chokes, staring at his shaking hands. “I’m hardly a troll anymore.” He whispers.

Perhaps this was too much for a troll as young as Barely to handle. But he was nothing if not ambitious. And nothing if not committed to his deep desire to help others. A childlike desperate want for the world to be more fair than it was. A trait Alternia works hard to steal from his children. 

“It’s one thing” Barely says, “To be true to your values when the going is easy, Mister. It’s another when things are hard. A lotta highbloods would jump at an offer like Mister Dunner’s, morals be damned. But you stuck yer feet inta the ground when you had anythin’ and everythin’ to lose. That’s not somethin’ somebody who’s nobody does. I can’t speak for Vekeso” He pauses, standing and offering a hand to the purple who was crouched over the side of the road, blinking back tears. 

“But I think you’re a great deal more offa troll than a lot of people are.” 

Damial shuts his eyes for a moment, and wipes his face, but then slowly, takes the young man's hand and stands up. He struggles to pull himself together for a bit, at a complete loss for what to say, before changing the subject. 

“Where’d you say you were from again, Barely?” He asks. 

“Well, you never asked” The rustblood pauses. “I’ve been makin’ my way up from from Umbra” He admits. 

“Umbra?” The purple repeats. “Are ya serious? How’d a proper little gentleman like you spring from a sinkhole like that.” He retorts. 

“Hey!” Barely says, playfully punching the older man’s side, which probably hurt him less than a mosquito bite. “Be careful how ya talk about my sinkhole.” He warns. 

Damial laughs. “Right. Right. Sorry.” He says, raising his hands in surrender. 

“Me n’ my brother owned the place” Barely threatens with extensive hyperbole. “We were cleanin’ it right up.” 

“Sorry. My bad.” He  grins. “Didn’t even ask you what case yer workin’, detective.” Damial realizes. “But thank you kindly for speaking with me. Yer a good kid” He says, his gaze softening as he stares at the child, who beams. 

“I owe you anythin’ for figurin’ that all out?” He asks, referring to the situation with Vekeso, and the reason why he hadn’t showed. 

“Well,” Barely pauses. “Usually, but I know how your money is, Mister Damial” He dismisses. 

“It’s no thing” Damial says, touching his cheek. “One of the cashiers down the road takes pity on me. She keeps sneakin’ me twenties while her boss ain’t around. I could get one for you.” 

Barely freezes, staring down at his notepad, and back at the purple. Processing what Damial has just told him. 

“Really- you don’t have to do that, Mister” he stutters. 

He was a great deal good at solving cases, maybe even too good. But he hadn’t been a detective long, and had not yet run into the conundrum of solving a case that every moral bone in his body did not want to tell his client was solved. His pan tosses and turns over this problem, before he glances at a clock in a shop window, and quickly replaces it with another problem. 

“I’m late” Barely says, paling. 

“What?” Damial frowns, as the kid starts speedwalking down the road. 

“I gotta be at the DunnerMart ten minutes ago, Mister Damial, I’m sorry!” He squeaks. 

“Here” Damial says, picking up the kid and hurrying him along with his own legs, which were longer and faster. They must have made it back to the main street by the train station at no later than 3:13. But as the DunnerMart gets closer,

“Wait!” The boy pleads suddenly to the purpleblood, and he stops. In the distance, he can see Mr. Dunner himself conversing with the fleet sheriff.

“Why, it was two hours ago, I really thought he’d show” Dunner says. “I guess the thief played me like a fiddle, officer. He couldn’t have been older than six. I’m too soft for children.” 

No, Barely thinks. Come on! He wasn’t even fifteen minutes late! He looks further down the way, to where Miss Laryan is sitting at the station working on her crossword. But there was no getting to her without going past DunnerMart. In the distance, a train horn blows. Here was the crossroads. He could turn Damial in right now, and set everything right with the shopkeep. Or… or… what?? What could he do? He could not even think of a second option.

“His red looked rust enough, but honestly, he had a unique set of ears and tail. He coulda been a mutant, but you know, it’s never polite to ask” Dunner grins. 

Barely hears his heart beating in his chest as he stays frozen in Damial’s arms. His ears are pulled flat and back as the child panics. 

“They talkin’ ‘bout you, kid?” Damial frowns, looking at the sheriff, and then the train. 

“The train!” Barely stumbles. “We gotta get on the train! Mister Damial,” He says, gripping his new friend. “Come with me and Miss Laryan to Creekturn” 

“It stops to load for like ten minutes, kid. They’ll just follow you on.” Damial deduces.

“Why” Dunner says, suddenly turning directly to face them in the distance. “That’s him right there” He says to the fleet trolls, who also turn. 

The purpleblood sets him down. “Listen kid” He stumbles. “I’ll distract them, okay? I’ll keep them off the train” He says. “You run to Laryan,” he orders. 

“No!” Barely squeaks. “Come with us, Damial, you’ll get in trouble!” 

“They’ll just follow you on the train!” Damial snaps, raising his voice. “Can’t you piece that together, detective? I gotta distract them, GO!!!” He shouts, and Barely stumbles backwards as the giant purple charges towards the sheriff. He remains dazed for a moment, before, tears leaking from his eyes, Barely sprints off to Laryan.

“Barely-” She stutters. 

“We have to GO” He begs, choking on the words, pulling her towards the train. She seems to catch on quick, and the two of them run and run, not looking back, they go from cabin to cabin to cabin down the train til they must be right next to the engine. Barely curls up in a ball, shutting his eyes and burying his face in his hands, sure that the fleet officials had gotten past Damial and would be barging in after them at any moment. That necklace must be made of something sturdy, the way it doesn’t dent even when his jaw is that clenched. Come on, he pleads, come on, and finally, after what feels like ages, the vehicle lurches into motion. Only then does he open his eyes, catching his breath, scooting close to the window and looking back at Shercattle. 

Damial is still visible at the station, fighting off all three other trolls. They didn’t make it on the train. For a moment, the purpleblood keeps his upper hand, maybe just due to his size, but… he is still drunk. And thus slow, and clumsy, and eventually, he is tackled to the ground, and Barely blinks, hand pressed to the window, as Damial gets smaller and smaller in the distance until he can’t make out the troll at all. 

.

.

.

.

.

A couple hours later, he has calmed down, but not by much. The Detective is frantically sorting through his notes, organizing them on the train by some logic that could not be easily deduced. Miss Laryan is watching the rain throw itself at the window, distant flashes of lightning illuminating the night, thunder echoing over the sound of the train. 

“Barely” She says softly, having been frantically explained the situation, with Dunner, and Damial, and everything, by the frantic child hours prior. 

“Remember when we talked earlier?” She says. “About curses, and you said some of them were plain ol’ chance?” 

“It all fits together somehow!” The child insists, raising his voice. “I know it! I'M SO CLOSE!” he snaps. 

“A cow illness, darling?” She says, resting a hand on the teenager's shoulder. “What else could that be but an act of the Messiahs?”

Barely opens his mouth, and then closes it. 

“I understand,” She says quietly. “How badly you wanna solve this, find the reason for it all, but can it really be worth it to put yourself in so much danger, for somethin’ that might not have an answer at all? Howsa ‘bout we go up to Creekturn, and just send you on your way to the city, baby. I can sort out the mess with people suspectin’ me and Damial myself” 

“Miss-” Barely chokes, “Don’t say that” He stumbles, and doesn’t make it further, burying his head in her shoulder and starting to cry. Laryan wraps her arms around him, rocking him back and forth as she holds him close. 

“Sometimes” She says. “There is no mystery, love. There is no conspiracy. There is no one troll to point at and blame no matter how badly you wish there was. Sometimes bad things happen to good people without any rhyme or reason at all. And there's no point to tearin’ it all apart” She says, rubbing his back. “And this might just be one of those”

Barely does not answer for a moment, his nails dig into Miss Laryan unconsciously as he stares out the window at the violence of the ongoing storm, eyes tight with enough fury to crack glass. He spits out his necklace.

“Not this time” he growls.

[shifty-fics]

Here's a little bit of scrapped writing that was originally going to be in Chapter 3

This scene was supposed to take place after Francis, Steven, and Angus bumped into MC in front of their hideout

It was scrapped because it felt a little too side tracked and I couldn't find a way to make it flow naturally out of the bar and to the street. I'm a little disappointed it never made the final draft but that's okay, I was never good at writing idle chatter anyway

I think I'll still consider it canon to the story in my heart though

♡

Francis found himself spending the evening at the local tiki pub after being invited by Angus Ciprianni and Steven Rudboys while running errands that afternoon. He figured it wouldn’t be a bad idea to relax a bit before getting back to work. His boss agreed to ease up on the hours and let someone else cover for David, so he would actually be able to spend time at home after work during the week instead of heading straight to bed every night. It was about time, his apartment was in a rather neglected state and it would be great to have time to cook a real dinner instead of late night frozen meals.

He made sure not to drink too much as he sat with the two. Steven and Angus, as talkative as they were, were carrying on their own conversation, and Francis was content idly listening to the two while losing himself in thought.

“Earth to Francis.” His attention was brought back by Steven. “You’ve been dead quiet this whole time, what’s new with you lately?”

“Oh me, nothing at all. Work’s been exhausting as usual, though I got my boss to agree to cut some hours. I was so tired one night I thought I saw our doorman’s eyes glowing.” Francis answered.

“That’s great to hear! Maybe you’ll be able to stop by and play some cards now. My dad always invites Angus and the Peachmans over every once in a while, and you’ve always been out too late.” The pilot said with a smile. “I wonder if the doorman would like to join, what was their name again?”

“Y/n.” Angus answered.

“Yeah. They don’t talk much, I was thinking a friendly game of cards could bring them right out of their shell.”

“Hmmmm maybe. Don’t get your hopes up.” Francis said, his mind wandering back to the door being slammed in his face. “I don’t think they’ll be up for it if I’m there at least.”

“Is this about that commotion from last night?” Angus asked.

“What commotion?” Steven asked.

“Oh, he chased the doorman to their apartment trying to get them to talk about something I assume happened that night. They weren’t in the mood but our stubborn ‘ol pal Francis just kept asking.” The businessman explained. “What was that about by the way?” The milkman let out a heavy sigh.

“I got attacked on my route last night. They dealt with the doppelganger, but they were very adamant about letting me take them to the hospital or the DDD headquarters. Said they could take care of themselves, and when I insisted on giving them a ride they just bolted and vanished.” He recalled.

“I didn’t know our doorman could take down doppels like that! I feel even safer having them at the door now.” Steven interjected.

“I’ve known for a while. They’ve told me about their DDD training.” Angus replied. “Continue, Francis.”

“Right, that wasn’t the only thing. They told me they would go to the DDD headquarters, so I went after I left the hospital to see if they were there. When I was told they weren’t I waited for them, and they never showed up. After that I waited for them at the apartment and that’s when the whole ‘commotion’ started.”

“That is pretty weird, and also explains what happened earlier. Maybe they’re a lot more or a hermit than I thought?” Steven said.

“Maybe.” Francis stood up.

“Leaving already?” Angus asked.

“Hmmm, just thought of something I should probably take care of-

[themoleperson]

here's a thing I wrote a while ago! i think later imma post another horror type thing I wrote a bit ago

(Warning for "monster pretending to be person" type horror; idk what else to warn about lol)

INTERVIEWER (INT): Can you state your full name for the record?

PERCY: Is all of this really necessary? Can’t I just go home?

INT: I’m sorry sir, but we need to get your story down as quickly as possible to minimize possible loss of information.

Just to prepare you for how the process works; I will prompt you with questions, and you will answer them to the best of your ability. If you would like to skip past a question, you have the right to do so, but it’s better for both of us if you just answer all the questions I ask you.

PERCY: …okay.

INT: Let’s start again. Department of the Interior, recording testimonial of… state your full name for the record?

PERCY: Percival Briant.

INT: …of one Percival “Percy” Briant, interviewed by Mallory Scott. This recording is only for internal use by the Bureau of Missing and Found Persons, known internally as Division 6. The necessity for the privacy of this information is outlined in the Located Persons Act of 2018.

On the 25th of August, Mr. Briant and the rest of his group were discovered just outside of Olympic National Park. This was after 2 weeks of attempts by the National Park Service to locate them. Mr. Briant, can you begin by stating the names of each of the members of your party?

PERCY: Please stop with the “Mr. Briant” stuff. It’s just Percy, man.

INT: …Duly noted.

PERCY: Thank you.

It was me, Olive- I mean, Olivia “Olive” Grant, Rhode “Rhodie” Jones, Nadya Kira, Vijay Rajesh and Jonathan Dover. Hold on, speaking of, when can I see them? You said they were here. Are they okay?

INT: You may see them after you give your testimony. My associate is checking in with them as we speak.

PERCY: Thank God, Olive…

INT: Mr. Briant?

PERCY: Sorry, I just… I was worried I’d never see them again. Especially Olive.

INT: Understandable. Do you need a break?

PERCY: No, I’m fine, it’s… fine. Okay.

INT: Alright. Then I suppose just start from the beginning, and I will interject if needed.

PERCY: But like, where should I start? It’s kind of a long story.

INT: Just start from when you left for the park, and go from there.

PERCY: …okay.

It all started when we left my house in Vancouver to drive up to the park. We’d planned a 4 day camping trip in Olympic National Park, so we met up at my house on the 5th of August and Vijay’s dad let us use his van to drive up there. I’m pretty sure Olive suggested the whole thing, but honestly we were all like, “Hey, we should do a group trip since we’re all going off to college in September,”, so it’s hard to remember who came up with the idea. I’ve had a sort of a crush on Olive for like a year, so I said yes right away, and Nadya is gonna be their roommate so they thought it’d be a nice trial-run for living together. We ended up inviting Vijay as well a few days later, when the idea stopped sounding so out-there and we started planning stuff.

Originally it was just Olive, Nadya, Vijay and me, but Jonathan and Rhodie heard about the trip and asked to come along. They’re cool guys so we agreed and planned to meet up on the 5th.

Honestly, everything was really normal. We drove a few hours up to Olympia, got the campsite set up. We all brought one or two board games, so we played cards and a really intense game of Monopoly before we all decided to call it quits and go to bed. Olive had made the mistake of leaving their tent at home, so I offered to share mine with them, and I spent the whole night curled up in a little ball, terrified about the idea of sharing a tent with someone that I liked. You know, stupid teenager stuff.

The weirdness started in earnest the next morning. See, we’d found a spot pretty near to this really beautiful waterfall. We couldn’t see it from the camp but we could hear it just over the hill. It was constant, not quite loud enough to drown our conversation, but enough to be noticeable. Now technically it wasn’t an official camp site, but we’d asked the park rangers about it and they said it was fine if we camped there- people did all the time, they said, and the site was cleared out enough that we wouldn’t be disturbing any habitats or anything.

Anyways, the waterfall. See, I woke up at like 5am- I’d been having trouble sleeping the whole night- and I decided to get out of the tent for a bit to stretch my legs and get some coffee. I changed clothes, got my shoes, and sat on one of the fold-up chairs that one of us had brought. That’s when I realized; the forest was quiet.

INT: Quiet?

PERCY: Now that I think about it… no, not just quiet. It was silent. No birds, no bugs. I couldn’t even hear the waterfall. That’s what tipped me off honestly; I could rationalize birds and bugs, but that damn waterfall was constant, I hadn’t stopped hearing it the whole time we were here. And now it was just gone.

INT: Is it possible that you just got used to the sound?

PERCY: Maybe. I mean, that’s what I told myself. I couldn’t find anything when I tried to look up how long it takes for people to just stop noticing the sound of a waterfall, but there wasn’t much. It wouldn’t make sense anyways, I’d only been there for like a day. The only times you really hear about people getting numb to waterfall sounds are when they, like, live next to it for years.

INT: Noted. Did anything else happen during that time?

PERCY: Later, yeah, but not that day. After a few minutes I started hearing noises again, and Olive walked over to where I was sitting. They pulled up a chair and we talked about the noise. Or lack thereof, I guess. They were a little confused, said that they hadn’t heard anything, and asked me jokingly- or at least, I hope jokingly- if I was high. I laughed it off and we just sort of sat there talking until everyone else woke up and joined us.

INT: Was that the only strange occurrence.

PERCY: No. God, I wish it was.

INT: Interesting. Please, continue.

PERCY: Alright. So, we’d all just gotten up and we were sitting around, talking. I didn’t mention the noise thing to anyone else; it didn’t seem super important, and I guessed that Olive’s reaction would be shared by the rest of the group. So, I just sat with my coffee mug in hand, trying to nod along and focus on whatever we were talking about. Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something weird was going on. I managed to mostly block it out after a while, but still, something just felt wrong.

Eventually we decided to take a trip over to the waterfall and go swimming. I was a lot less distracted by then, and I’d mostly forgotten about whatever was happening in the morning. It was fun, we just got to splash around for a few hours and by the time we got back it was already evening. The whole day just passed so fast. Before I knew it, we were going back to bed. Everyone else made their way back to their tents. I saw Rhodie and Jonathan looking at each other weirdly and instantly knew that I wanted to be as far away from their tent as possible for a bit, so I decided to just chill out by the fire for a little bit.

The only other thing I remember from before I went to bed was Vijay coming over to sit beside me. He just came right over and propped up a chair. We stayed like that, just talking about nothing, until I suddenly started to get really sleepy. I apologized and went to bed. Or, I tried to.

See the memory itself is pretty mundane. Like, I don’t know why I remember it when so much other crazy stuff happened. But I think it’s because of the noises I heard.

At some point, I think I heard the tent open and close. I mean, I must have, because I distinctly don’t remember hearing Olive snoring beside me when I heard the other sound. It was a high-pitched howl, ringing out through the silent night. Something about it set my blood boiling. A shiver went straight up my spine and I froze. It repeated, sounding a little farther away the second time. For a reason that I can’t really explain, I got up, grabbed a flashlight and left the tent.

It was pitch black out, with only light from the stars and my flashlight lighting up my surroundings. The forest was dead silent, just like it had been that morning. Even the strange howl had stopped. Then, I felt a hand on my shoulder and I almost jumped out of my skin.

It was just Olive. They said that they’d heard me get up. I apologized for waking them, but they didn’t respond to the apology. Instead, they asked if I was okay. I guess my face was sorta giving me away? I nodded, took a deep breath, and explained what happened. They seemed more concerned than freaked out, but they told me that I was probably just hearing things. After that… All I know for sure is that we made it back to the tent, and I woke up at 5am again the next morning.

INT: One question before you continue; do you remember anything about how you got back to the tent?

PERCY: Not really, but I was super tired so I’m guessing I just forgot what happened. Like when you forget the moment right before you go to sleep, you know?

INT: Indeed. Now, continue, please.

PERCY: Okay. So, the next two days were basically normal. There weren’t any more weird silences that I could remember, and I sort of accepted the fact that I was probably imagining things. The only other weird event from that time was that my tent kept moving backwards by an inch every hour or so, but I think that was just Nadya and Vijay messing with me. It was kind of ridiculous- the tent ended up a decent distance from the others. They knew about my crush on Olive, and they’d been prodding me the entire trip. They were probably just trying to get me some “alone time” or something. Olive noticed, but they didn’t seem to mind, so I just laughed it off. I told Vijay to knock it off but he just pretended that nothing had happened. So did Nadya when I asked her about it later, actually. But that’s pretty normal for them.

It was the 5th day where things really went bad. We’d decided to stay one more day so we’d have more time to pack up, so the plan was now to leave on day 6. Someone- I forgot who, but it was either Rhodie or Olive- texted a group chat we’d made with all our parents, telling them the updated plan. I don’t know how either of them would’ve had service, but I trusted them, so I didn’t really think much of it. We started the process of packing up and everyone got to work. We knew we didn’t need to hurry so we packed slowly, messing around and generally just trying to have fun with it.

Around mid afternoon, I noticed something weird. The forest was quiet again and the air was sort of humming. I noticed a flock of birds flying overhead but they weren’t making any noise. No chirps, whistles, nothing. And there were at least 2 or 3 different types of birds too. I tried to convince myself that I was just hallucinating again, but I felt the same sensation that I had a few nights ago when I heard the howl.

INT: Did you hear the sound again?

PERCY: Now that you mention it… I think I did. It sounded different this time, so I almost didn’t notice, but right before everything had gone silent, I’d heard the call again. I think the cadence was weirder this time too, it didn’t quite sound as animalistic as it had before.

I didn’t tell anyone about it- I didn’t really realize that I’d heard it until now, actually- but I called everyone over to where I was. We all gathered in the small clearing near my tent and I asked; “does anyone hear anything?”

I watched their faces. The first one to realize what I meant was Rhodie. I saw the moment he picked up on the fact that the whole forest was silent. I remember him saying, “Holy —. I can’t hear the waterfall. Why can’t I hear the waterfall?” That was when everyone else noticed as well. Nadya frowned, and pointed out that she couldn’t hear the sound of any bugs or birds chirping. Vijay looked nauseous.

Olive looked weirdly calm. They’ve always been good with stressful situations, and I sort of felt relieved, like whatever was going on couldn’t be that bad if they were unaffected. Jonathan, on the other hand, started freaking out a little bit. His voice was shaky and his eyes were darting around. I saw Rhodie grab his hand and whisper to him, probably calming him down. It worked, and he took a deep breath, steadying himself.

That was when I heard the scream. It was high pitched and desperate, and as our heads whipped towards it, that same shiver went straight down my spine. It was like I could sense that something else was gone, and I whipped around, eyes searching the rest of the group.

Olive was gone. They had been towards the back of the group and now, they were gone. There were just a pair of footprints where they’d stood, as if they had just disappeared. I shouted after them and heard another scream, this time coming from somewhere above us. Nadya pointed into the branches and we all saw flashes of color; something tan, and something light green. Olive’s hoodie was green.

Rhodie screamed, full of rage, and ran towards where we’d seen movement. Jonathan tried to pull him back but Rhodie shook loose, taking out his pocket knife and waving it wildly. Vijay and Nadya ran after him, Jonathan right in front of them, but I couldn’t move. I felt paralyzed, my whole body was frozen and that stupid howl was ringing in my ears.

I remember Vijay turning around to face me, and everything after that was just flashes. I saw the forest floor moving underneath my feet. I heard the howl playing over and over in my ear, sounding more human each time. Sounding more like someone screaming “Help” each time. I saw Vijay trip on a root and fall, screaming, to the ground. I saw Nadya try to help him and then stare in horror at something behind us. I saw a torn blue hoodie on the ground. I felt claws scraping down my back. And then it all went black.

The only thing I remember after that is being woken up. I remember someone- one of the rescuers, I think- throwing up on the ground a few feet from where I was laying down. Then I remember the checkup at the hospital, and now I’m here. That’s pretty much it. Now please, will you let me see my friends?

INT: I will do what I can.

[sound of knocking is audible on recording]

INT: One moment, if you will.

[Interviewer SCOTT leaves the room. Witness BRIANT fidgets anxiously. Skip 2:43 minutes of silence. Interviewer SCOTT reenters the room]

INT: You said that your friends were named Olivia Grant, Rhode Jones, Nadya Kira, Vijay Rajesh and Jonathan Dover, correct?

PERCY: Yes, why? Is one of them missing?

INT, sighing: No, but you may want to sit back down.

[Witness BRIANT sits down, clearly anxious. SCOTT, who is once again out of frame in her place behind the camera, can be heard muttering a prayer. The mic was able to pick up a few words; ‘God’, ‘just kids’, and ‘please’.]

INT: We could find no record, public or otherwise, of an “Oliva ‘Olive’ Grant” ever having existed.

PERCY: ..what? But-

INT: We also could not find any family matching the description that your friend Vijay gave. There are no Brian Grant or Emily Grant living anywhere around Vancouver Washington, nor is there a Susan ‘Suzie’ Grant enrolled in any schools or listed in any public records.

PERCY: No, no, that’s impossible. I mean for Christ’s sake, we got into the same colle-

INT: Furthermore, Olive is not present on any enrollment records in any college in Washington State, much less the University of Washington to which you were accepted. I’m… I’m sorry, Percy. Olive isn’t real. According to your parents, only the five of you- yourself, Jonathan, Vijay, Nadya and Rhodes- went into that forest. However, we found 6 people there- the 5 of you, and one unidentifiable body.

PERCY: …

INT: We have no idea what happened during the full week for which we have no records. None of you remember what happened. And, I’m sorry to say this, but… only yourself, Nadya and Jonathan made it. Vijay was deceased when we arrived, and we discovered the body of Mr. Jones nearby. He appeared to have had a standoff with whatever attacked you, whatever the 6th body was. He had somehow managed to fend it off, eventually killing him, but his injuries were severe. He died in the hospital as he was giving his statement. He said the creature…

PERCY: What? What did he say about it? F—ing tell me.

INT: He said that it almost seemed… that it looked like your friend Olive. I’m sorry.

[Witness BRIANT collapses, inconsolable. Recording ends with a freeze-frame of Interviewer SCOTT turning off the camera. Her eyes are tear-filled.]

[TESTIMONY ENDS]

Investigatory notes: I have reason to suspect that whatever creature attacked these campers was able to alter their memory, obscuring its identity and hiding in wait until it felt safe to attack. Further testimonial from Mr. Briant’s friends, Jonathan and Nadya, indicate a shared awareness that they were supposed to have been a group of 5, but neither were able to pick out which member of the group didn’t belong until the truth was revealed to them by investigators.

This is a strange case indeed. The creature displays an awareness of social dynamics and a predatory nature that is unique from any that I have encountered. I am unsure how Mr. Jones had been able to slay it, but I am thankful that he did. Unfortunately the remains decayed far more quickly than is natural and were unable to be studied by our forensic team.

I can’t help but feel the same sympathy that Interviewer Scott felt for these kids. The tapes are distinctly hard to watch even though they’re just testimonials.

God help them indeed.

[sangelune]

"maybe you should have thought of that before you decided to eye-fuck that woman!" aniela huffs at both johnny & simon as she storms off down the hallway and into the shared bedroom. / jealous ani???? :3

   it's  johnny's  stare  that  simon  catches,  and  he  returns  it,  confused.  a  light  shrug,  a  shake  of  his  head.  he  doesn't  exactly  understand.  he  had  stared  at  another  woman  -  but  she'd  started  it  by  oogling  him.  he  definitely  hadn't  considered  it  eye  fucking,  that's  for  sure.

   “och,  riley,  ye  damn  well  done  it  now,  dinnae  ye?”  johnny  reaches  out  to  punch  simon's  arm,  causing  a  glare  to  be  shot  his  way.  “nae  -  ye  dinnae  go  blamin'  me  with  the  feckin'  stink  eye.  ye  go  an'  figure  oot  dinner.  ah'll  explain  yer  weird  shite  tae  her.”

   “'ardly  weird.” 

   “fer  those  who  dinnae  ken  yer  a  wee  bit  off  kilter  -  aye,  it  is.” 

   “off  kilter?”

   “aye  -  now  go.” 

   johnny  wanders  off  before  simon  can  interject,  and  he  makes  his  way  to  the  shared  bedroom,  pushing  open  the  door  and  peeking  inside  with  an  apologetic  smile. 

   “bonnie.”  he  starts,  “ye  ken  yer  bein'  a  wee  bit  too  harsh  on  him,  aye?”  johnny  moves  to  sit  on  the  bed,  waiting  for  her  to  sit  next  to  him.  his  tone  is  gentle,  understanding,  and  carries  the  underlying  i  am  going  to  explain  this  statement. 

   “ye  ain't  seen  the  way  he  looks  at  some  folk?”  johnny  chuckles.  “that's  a  wee  bit  normal.  it  ain't  him  showin'  interest;  it's  him  tryna  intimidate  them  into  leavin'  him  be.  might  work  better  with  his  mask  over  his  face,  shite  used  to  put  a  wee  chill  down  even  my  spine.”  a  moment  where  he  cringes,  before  shaking  his  head. 

   “he's  nae  had  any  proper  mental  assessment,  bu'  ye  best  believe  he  doesn't  work  or  think  the  same  as  ye  or  i.  yer  gonna  have  to  trust  me  when  i  tell  ye  he's  not  walkin'  away  from  ye.  or  me.  noo  -  that  woman  on  the  other  hand  -  she  was  eye  fuckin'  him.  an'  trust  me,  hen.  i  wasnae  aboot  tae  keep  sittin'  and  takin'  it,  had  he  not  made  the  move  tae  leave.  he  knew.”  a  snort  passes  johnny.  “ah  make  scenes  -  neither  a  ye  woulda  been  happy  if  that'd  have  happened.  maybe  ye  mighta  enjoyed  it  a  wee  bit  -  but  i  bet  ye'd  have  been  right  embarrassed  at  the  end.”  a  shrug. 

   “jus'…  go  easy  on  the  big  fucker,  aye?  prob'ly  hurt  him  quite  a  bit  that  yer  thinkin'  he'd  go  choosin'  someone  over  ye.”  he  reaches  out  to  pat  her  shoulder  before  standing  up.  “ain't  sayin'  ye  cannae  get  a  real  nice  night  from  him  from  this.  tell  him  you'll  forgive  it  if  he  spends  the  whole  night  on  ye.”  a  smirk�� spreads  across  his  face.  “put  both  him  and  yerself  at  rest.  been  wantin'  tae  go  see  gaz  fer  a  night  anyway.  been  a  while  since  i  had  a  boys  night.”

[clevermird]

Title: Graduated Fallout, chapter 2

Prompt: What's in a Name? @shortfictionweeklychallenge

Rating: Teen

Characters: Jessasi Silver (female Smuggler)

Pairing(s): none

For some reason, Jessasi has been chosen to speak at her high school graduation. But instead of a bland speech, she has a much bigger announcement to make and her parents are not going to be happy with what she has to say. OR How the Smuggler's ship got its name.

Text under cut

“What the HELL did you do?” Koric Silver tried to keep his frustration from boiling over further.

It wasn’t easy. His daughter sat defiantly on an armchair in the living room, still wearing her graduation dress, arms crossed over her chest and an innocent expression on her face. “I bought a ship. With my own money.”

“That was your university money. It was your future!”

“But I don’t want to go to university! I want to be a starship captain.”

“Don’t you know how bad your chances of making it are?” He could feel an edge of pleading making it into his voice.

“I’m a good pilot, Dad. You’ve seen me fly!” She was gripping the arms of the chair now with an expression that he knew all too well. She wasn’t going to back down no matter what he said.

“You’re a wonderful pilot, Jess,” Khelbi interjected, moving to place a hand on her daughter’s shoulder. “But there are a lot of pilots out there and not enough jobs.”

“Somebody’s gotta be the one to make it. Besides, I already bought the ship, so you’re not going to stop me.”

“Koric felt the lid start to slide off his anger. “Do not talk to me that way, young lady.”

“Why not? You don’t even care about what I want to do. You’re not listening to me! You never listen!”

Jessasi jumped to her feet, tears streaming down her face. Ignoring Khelbi’s attempts to step in, she kept shouting. “I want to be a pilot, and I swear, that’s what I’m going to do, even if I have to dig my way out of this fucking apartment with a rusty spoon!”

Shoving her mother out of the way, she dashed toward her room.

“You just do that!” Koric yelled after her, then sighed and turned to his wife. “She’s going to get herself killed. Why do I try telling her anything?”

Khelbi rubbed at her temples. “Give her a little time and she’ll calm down. We’ll try again in an hour or two.”

“She’ll calm down, but I don’t think she’ll change her mind. It’s just. . . we put so much into making sure she grew up free and now she’s going to throw it all away.”

“I know.” Khelbi leaned on his shoulder and wrapped an arm around his waist. “I know. I’m scared too.”

* * * *

Jessasi fiddled idly with her datapad, looking at the ship registration form again. The thing still needed a name.

On a bit of thought, she’d probably gotten a bit carried away with her parents. But she’d meant what she’d said! She was going to become a starship captain if she had to take on the whole Empire single-handedly to do it.

Still, after three hours this whole self-imposed exile thing was getting old. She might have to apologize soon out of sheer boredom.

Someone knocked at the door. “Come in,” she said automatically before immediately regretting it.

Her parents walked in, her mother sitting on the edge of the bed and her father taking her desk chair.

Jessasi set the datapad down and looked at them. “Yes?”

“We just wanted to talk about your decision a little more calmly than we did this afternoon,” her mother said.

Her father cleared his throat. “We want to make sure you’ve thought this through.”

“I have, though!”

“Then why don’t you tell us about it, Jess? What are you planning?”

Jessasi frowned. Her mother sounded sincere, but was this going to turn into another fight? “It’s not really that complicated. I’m going to find someone with cargo to move and then charge them to take it where it needs to go. I’ll use the profit from the run to cover costs for the next one and put the rest towards repairs, upgrades, and fun.”

“How do you plan to crew the ship?”

“It’s small enough I can do it myself.” Jessasi found herself growing more confidant as she spoke. “It’ll be a pain to get cargo unloaded, but I can hire people to do that.”

Her father nodded. “And maintenance?”

“You know how much time I’ve spent in the garage – I can to that myself too.” Seeing the looks that her parents exchanged, she added “Or I can hire people to do it.”

“And how will you find cargo in the first place?”

“The normal way: I’ll look.” Noticing the exasperated look her mother was giving her, she elaborated. “I’ll start with the local holoads and work out from there.”

“You know it won’t be long before someone asks you to take illegal cargo. What do you plan to do then?” her father said carefully.

“I’ll take it, of course.” What did he think she hadn’t thought about this at all?

“Jess – “

“I know what you’re thinking, Mom. But this is what I love. It’s the only thing I’ve ever tried that I really wanted to do. Please, just let me try.” Her voice squeaked as she finished and she tried not to curse under her breath.

After a short pause, her father spoke. “We’re worried, Jess. The galaxy isn’t something to play around with, especially the underworld, and especially if you’re a twi’lek. You have – well, had, anyway – enough money to get started at the university and we think it would be smarter to – “

“It’ll be different for me, I promise! Just give me a little time and I’ll show you. If I don’t make it in – in five years. Yeah. If I don’t make it in five years, I’ll give up and do something else. But, just let me try.”

Her parents were silent. Jessasi could tell she almost had them.

“Five years?” her mother said. “Five years, and then you’ll get a job?”

“Yes, I promise!”

“I guess we can’t stop you. You’re nineteen and you already bought the ship.”

“Yep.”

Her father sighed yet again. “I guess we’ll see how it turns out, then.”

Her mother stood. “I’ll go start dinner.”

“’kay.” Jessasi was hungry, she realized.

As he stood to follow her, her father flashed her a sad smile. “You’re a fool, Jess, you know that? But who knows. Maybe it will work out.”

“It will.”

As soon as she was alone again, Jessasi picked up the datapad and looked at the ship registration. An idea was forming in her mind. Selecting the box for the ship’s name, she carefully typed a response and smiled.

The Fool’s Wager.

Perfect.

[wolken-himmel]

In which (Y/n) ends up in the infirmary because a child wandering around campus bit her.

It turns out that the feral boy is Floyd's and her child from the future.

Request by anon.

"(Y/n), we came as quickly as we could!"

A jolt ran through your body when the door to the infirmary was pushed open with an incredible force. Before you could even begin to recover from the awful noise the hinges produced, you found three figures surrounding your bed.

"What happened to you?" Deuce asked and pointed to your finger in worry. "Someone said you got bitten?"

Ace poked the band-aid that covered the tip of your pointer finger. "Bitten by a feral animal? By Grim?" he asked and began laughing, especially when the cat in question grumbled a few curses of protests.

Much to your amusement, Deuce shot the cat a stern look and wagged his finger in front of his disgruntled eyes. "Grim, what did we tell you?" the blue-haired boy scolded, narrowing his eyes. "Don't bite the hand that feeds you..."

"It wasn't me, I swear!" Grim threw his hands into the air while Ace and you merely laughed your souls out. Your amusement seemed to confuse Deuce, so much that the cat had to explain, "I don't bite people. I have class, you know..."

"Yeah, I was bitten—" you began slowly.

"But you're not bleeding out, are you?" Ace interrupted you and took precautionary step backwards. "And please tell me you didn't get rabies..."

By then, your left eye had begun twitching in frustration — oh, and your ears had begun hurting with all the excessive noise. Before the three could begin arguing amongst each other again, you had already raised your hands to shut them up. "Let me finish my sentences, you idiots!" They quieted down at once, all due to the angry glare you shot them. "No, I got bitten by a child... It was a boy, turquoise blue hair and very very sharp teeth. He couldn't have been older than seven..."

"How... did a child get on campus?" Ace asked with scrunched up eyebrows.

"I don't know..." you grumbled and sank into the soft infirmary bed again — it was much softer than the one back at Ramshackle. After a deep exhale, you closed your eyes and waved the three off. "Just ask Crowley or something."

"And where is the boy now?" Deuce piped up, his eyes flashing with concern. "What if he bites other people? He could seriously hurt someone—"

The red-head rolled his eyes. "It's just a child, you idiot..."

"No, trust me, Ace," you interjected seriously. A series of shivers ran down your back, and something akin to trauma darkened your eyes. "That boy is a menace to society."

"So what do we do now?" Grim asked, panicked.

His blue eyes flashing with utter determination, a bulb seemed to light up above Deuce's head. "We could put up some traps," he suggested while pacing up and down the empty infirmary. "You know, attach some thread to a branch and then prop up a cage. And then use candy as bait."

You clicked your tongue. "That's how you catch a stray cat, not a child..."

°

°

°

"Ugh, why do our professors always give us so much homework? I barely even have time to fulfil my daily squeeze quota anymore! Jade, my whole life is falling apart! What is the purpose of living if I can't have fun?"

"Oh Floyd... please tell me you're finished with the alchemy assignment for tomorrow."

The twins were walking side by side, traversing another courtyard to get to the Mirror Chamber for their shifts at the lounge. Yet, dread already pooled in the depths of Jade's stomach when he looked upon the moody frown on his brother's face. Floyd's mood swings and work didn't mix well at all — it was like throwing oil and water together.

"Nope," Floyd chimed innocently, "haven't even started yet with that stupid assignment."

"The deadline is tomorrow..." Jade furrowed his eyebrows in worry.

His concerned tone merely drew an annoyed scoff from Floyd's pursed lips. "I wasn't in the mood." A whine escaped his lips when he raised his long arms to stretch lazily. His lips twisted downwards into a pout when he suddenly complained, "I haven't seen (Y/n) all day! My little shrimpy would usually bribe me with hugs and what not to do my homework..."

Jade shook his head in disbelief. "By the Great Seven, Floyd..."

Before he could properly begin scolding his brother, a high-pitched voice reached their ears — someone was calling out to them, and the voice was drawing closer. "Daddy!" they managed to discern once the voice was close enough. And almost simultaneously, a young child threw himself into Floyd's arms while continously muttering 'Daddy' over and over again.

Reluctantly moving his arms around the boy to support him, Floyd furrowed his eyebrows in confusion and a tad bit of annoyance. "Huh? What do you want, little guppy?" The sharpness of his eyes softened up though as soon as he found the child's cheeks covered in dried tears. The boy continued wailing and clinging to the Octavinelle student. "Oh my, why are you crying?"

"I-I hurt Mommy earlier!" the boy confessed guiltily. "I bit her! I didn't mean to... I was just so excited to see her again! And I was so happy that I chomped down a little bit too much... It was meant as a love nibble..."

"And where is your mommy?" Jade asked hesitantly.

The boy's mood seemed to increase once he laid eyes upon the other twin. "Uncle Jade! You're here, too!" he exclaimed with a toothy smile.

Floyd and Jade shot each other surprised looks, astonished by the young boy's ease at telling them apart. Yet, with the way he addressed them, they both began to worry.

"I don't remember having a son, Jade..."

"Neither do I."

Before they could ask the child for answers, three figures came running towards them — two Heartslabyul students and a familiar cat monster. All of them were out of breath when they came to a halt in front of the twins.

"Floyd! Step away from that child at once!" Deuce exclaimed and extended his flat hand warningly. "He's dangerous..."

"This little guppy? No, he ain't dangerous at all." A bout of laughter escaped Floyd's lips when he began tickling the boy affectionately. "What's your name, guppy?" he cooed and cradled him gently.

"Nemo!" the boy chimed.

"See?" Floyd drawled. "So cute."

Grim shook his head hastily. "That boy bit (Y/n)!"

The remark caused Jade to tense at once. His limbs suddenly frozen, he only managed to slowly crane his neck at his brother, who was still busy playing with the mysterious boy. Now, on closer look, Jade managed to see the resemblance between the wild boy and the Ramshackle prefect. His disbelief still didn't lessen, somehow, when he carefully asked, "Wait... so (Y/n) is your mother, Nemo?"

The boy immediately piped up happily when that name reached his ears. "Mommy! Where is she?" His toothy smile showed off his razer-sharp teeth. "Is she alright?"

"Great," Ace grumbled under his breath, "so we bought the cage and candy for nothing..."

The revelation had Floyd perking up in utter delight. His bad mood from earlier had disappeared entirely, based on the way he was grinning widely. "Woah, so Shrimpy and I are gonna have little shrimpies together in the future?" Giggles escaped his lips while he threw the child into the air. "I love it! You're making my day, little guppy~"

"If that's the future, you should work hard for it..." Jade muttered mischievously. "Maybe this is a sign by the Great Seven to work on your assignment for tomorrow."

"Nemo, what do you know of alchemy?" Floyd asked, his laughter mixing with his son's giggles. "I'm sure you'll help your daddy work on his assignment, no?"

The question made Jade's smile waver. "Oh, he's hopeless..."

[7seas-of-ryy]

Happy Birthday

Author's Note: Today's my birthday!! So of course I had to write some birthday fluff <3

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader, Ellie Williams x Platonic!Reader

Summary: Joel and Ellie wanna make your birthday special!

Warnings: some kissing, a lotta fluff!

...

You wake up to the feeling of someone jumping on your bed.

“Wake up! Wake up! Wake up! It’s your birrthhhdayyyyy” Ellie says in a sing song voice

“Wha- how do you know when my birthday is?” You asked the young girl sitting next to you

She looks back over her shoulder and you follow where she’s looking to see Joel standing at the door.

“Uh you mentioned it once before and I let it slip to Ellie without thinking, sorry” he spoke quietly

“Don’t apologize, this is very sweet. I just don’t remember mentioning my birthday” you said, tryin to remember when you would’ve said that

“You definitely told me… anyways Ellie set up a whole thing for you… if you think it’s stupid we don’t have to do any of it-“ Joel started

“Hey you planned most of it!” Ellie interjected

Joel cheeks started to redden as you and Ellie giggled at the man's state.

"Well what're we waiting for, come downstairs!!" Ellie exclaimed, tugging your arm to get you out of bed.

You three headed downstairs and before you could enter the kitchen you heard Ellie speak.

"Wait don't go in there yet! Joel, do it!" Ellie stated

You looked at them confused as you heard Joel sigh and apologize under his breath. He slowly lifted his hands to your eyes from behind you.

"Ok you can walk into the kitchen, but you have to stay blindfolded until we say!" Ellie said

You and Joel shuffled into the kitchen, his arms around you with his hands covering your eyes.

"OK one...two...three!" the young girl counted down as Joel removed his hands from your eyes

Once your eyes adjusted, you saw ingredients on the counter. Flour, sugar, eggs, even butter. You were slightly confused and impressed they had all of these things.

"So we were going to make you a cake but then I remembered you said you used to love baking. I figured we could all bake the cake together today" Joel spoke hesitantly, keeping his eyes on the floor

You felt tears starting to form and you saw Joel's eyes widen.

"(Y/N) I am so sorry, I just thought-" Joel started

You cut him off with a hug. After a little bit, you pulled Ellie into the hug as well. You three stood in the kitchen hugging.

"This is the sweetest thing ever. I love it" You told them

"It was all my idea" Joel spoke with a little laugh as Ellie smacked his arm.

You three started baking and once the cake was done you all sat down and enjoyed something you never thought you would get to enjoy again. They even sang happy birthday to you, which did make you cry again.

After a while you spoke, "Hey Ellie, can you bring a few pieces to Tommy and Maria?"

"Sure!" She said and started to head out. Before she left the room she gave Joel a look, hoping he would take the hint to the tell you how he feels.

"Thank y-" "How was-" You and Joel spoke at the same time.

"Sorry you go first" the man spoke

"Thank you, for this and for everything. I never thought I would feel this much love and happiness again if I'm being honest" you told him

"To tell you the truth, you never told me when your birthday was. I found one of the pictures you carry around. You were celebrating your birthday in it and it had the date on it. I took a lucky guess that it was today. I just wanted to do something to show you how much you mean to us...to me" He admitted

"Well you haven't given me my birthday present yet, I was thinking a kiss would be the perfect gift" you said with as much confidence as you had

Joel brought both of his hands up to your face. He rubbed one of his thumbs on your lip as he slowly leaned in. His lips softly met yours. Once you pulled away, you both stayed put staring into each others eyes. He leaned his forehead against yours and closed his eyes, relishing in the moment.

"Happy birthday" He whispered to you

After a little bit he softly kissed your nose and you giggled. You both jumped apart when you heard clapping.

Ellie, Tommy, and Maria were all there cheering you two on.

"Hey, (Y/N's) birthdays isn't over yet. Lets party!" Ellie said

You all laughed at her excitement. You spent the night in the living room, tucked into Joel's side, sharing stories and laughing with your family.

And after everyone went home and Ellie was asleep, Joel gave you the best birthday present ever.