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thecuriousbeauty · 3 months ago

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Under His Watch- Part 2 (Harry Styles x reader)

Series synopsis: Y/N, an ambitious FBI intern, joins the homicide department, where she catches the eye of the brooding head detective, Harry Styles. As they tackle high-stakes cases together, Y/N uncovers a side of Harry no one else sees. Are they just boss and intern, or something more?

A/N:- This is picking off from where we left, so I highly suggest you read Part 1 first. Thank you for all the love and comments about the series, I appreciate you all so much.

Warnings: Talks about gun shot wound, smut. Fingering, spitting, penetration(p in v)

Word count: 9.3k

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The cold hum of the ambulance filled the small space as it sped down the winding road, sirens wailing outside, slicing through the night. Inside, the soft beeping of medical equipment was the only other sound. Harry sat close to the cot where Y/N lay, her face pale from having a bullet through her arm. She winced with each bump, but her eyes remained locked on him, half-lidded and tired.

The moment replayed in his head over and over, each second more unbearable than the last. He hadn’t reacted fast enough, hadn’t shielded her like he should have. He managed to tackle the man and shoot a bullet through his shoulder who was aiming his gun at y/n, but he wasn’t quick enough. The guy had shot y/n at the same time. I should’ve done more. I should’ve moved. I should’ve protected her. She was just starting out, an intern under his watch, and he had promised to keep her safe. But now she was hurt, and he had let it happen. It’s my fault, he thought, as the weight of the guilt pressed down on him, leaving him powerless and hollow.

Harry’s jaw clenched as he fought to keep his own emotions in check. His fingers hovered near her hand, the urge to reach out strong, but he hesitated, not wanting to make her feel vulnerable, yet all he could think of was how much he cared.

“You should have stayed in the car.”, he finds himself muttering.

“And let him shoot y-you?”, she asked, her voice raspy and her eyes flick to the white bandage on her arm, quickly tainting red. Harry noticed her breath hitching and a little bit of fear running through her eyes even though she tried to mask it.

Harry gently turned her head back to him, index and thumb finger holding her chin, “Don’t look, y/n. Stay with me, okay?”

Y/N managed a weak nod.

“You got hurt because you tried to protect me.”, Harry says softly, shaking his head. “I was just doing my job,” she whispered, her eyelids fluttering as the adrenaline began to wear off, exhaustion creeping in.

“C-Couldn’t let the mission go s-south..” She offered a weak smile, her voice raspy. “Are you mad that I didn’t listen to you?”

He swallowed hard, the weight of his feelings pressing against his chest. How could he ever be mad at her, when in that moment, she had shown him exactly what kind of person she was? She was brave, unyielding, and selfless, and every one of those qualities only made her more admirable in his eyes.

“No,” Harry said, his voice soft, almost too soft. He leaned forward slightly, his expression genuine. “I’m not mad at you.”

Her eyes flickered up to meet his, searching his face for any hint of dishonesty, but all she saw was sincerity.

"You didn’t listen to me, and I shouldn’t have let you even come along," he continued, his voice barely above a whisper, yet his words held a depth of emotion he wasn’t sure he was ready to express. “But I can’t be mad at you. Not when you were doing what you thought was right… Not when you were doing it to protect me, to protect that little girl, to help catch a criminal.”

Her hand shifted just enough to brush against his, the touch soft but intentional. Harry finally allowed his fingers to set

tle over hers, squeezing gently, his thumb brushing the back of her hand in a silent promise. “You’re one hell of an intern,” he murmured, his words more tender than he intended. His gaze softened as he studied her, noting the way she tried to fight through the pain, the way she still cared about their mission, even now.

Harry leaned closer, his breath catching for a moment. "And promise me next time you'll let me do the heavy lifting."

Y/N gave him a small, knowing smirk before her eyes fluttered shut again, the exhaustion of the mission and her injury catching up to her. Harry sat silently beside her, his presence a silent assurance.

________________________________________________

The sun was beginning to dip below the horizon as Harry carefully navigated the streets, the next day. Y/N sat in the passenger seat, her arm in a sling, but she was looking better than the day before — a little more alert, though still a little pale. The bullet had only grazed her arm, so recovery wouldn’t take too long. She had insisted on going back to her flat, not wanting to stay in the hospital any longer, but Harry couldn’t shake the feeling that she shouldn’t be alone just yet.

“You sure you don’t want me to stay for a bit?” Harry asked, glancing over at her as they neared her building. “At least until you’re settled in?”

“I’ll be fine, Harry,” Y/N replied, her voice soft but steady, the same determination that had led her to ignore his warnings the day before now pushing her to insist on independence. “It’s just my arm, not my whole body. I can manage.” She gave him a small smile, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “You’ve done enough already.”

He parked the car in front of her building, but his concern was still evident. “I don’t know, Y/N. You’re injured. You’re not supposed to be lifting anything, and what if something happens? I’d feel better if I stayed for a bit.”

Y/N bit her lip, feeling guilty for pushing him away. “I appreciate it, really,” she said, meeting his eyes. “But I’m okay. I don’t need to be babied.”

Harry let out a slow breath, still unconvinced, but he didn’t press the issue further. Instead, he got out of the car and went around to open her door, offering her a steadying hand as she carefully climbed out. “Alright,” he said reluctantly, “but I’m still making sure you have dinner. And maybe a little something extra for tomorrow.”

Y/N’s heart softened at the thought. "Harry, you don’t have to—"

“I know,” he interrupted with a grin. “But I want to. So, where’s your kitchen?”

Once they got upstairs, Harry settled her on the couch with a blanket, making sure she was comfortable, while he busied himself in her small kitchen. Y/N tried to offer help, but he just gently shooed her away, telling her to relax. She couldn’t help but watch him, the way he moved with such care, every gesture deliberate. He wasn’t just making food — he was making sure she had enough to eat, enough to last. It was as if he was taking care of her in ways she hadn’t known she needed.

By the time he finished, a warm, hearty meal of pasta and grilled vegetables filled the apartment with a comforting aroma. Harry set the table, a little extra portion already packed for tomorrow.

"Here you go," he said, sitting down across from her, his eyes meeting hers. “It’s not much, but I figured it’s better than hospital food.”

Y/N looked at the plate in front of her, but it wasn’t the food that caught her attention — it was the thought behind it. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had cared for her like this. Sure, people had helped her out in the past, but it wasn’t the same. Not like this.

“I—thank you,” she said quietly, her voice almost a whisper. “This means a lot.”

Harry smiled, picking up his fork and digging in. “You’ve been through a lot. The least I can do is make sure you’re fed and taken care of for a night.” He paused, his eyes softening as he watched her. “You really don’t have to do everything on your own, you know. You’ve got people who care about you.”

Y/N met his gaze, her heart suddenly feeling like it was too full. She wasn’t used to feeling this vulnerable, this open, but with Harry, everything seemed to fall into place. "I know," she said quietly, finally allowing herself to let the walls down. "But it’s hard to let people in sometimes."

Harry nodded, understanding, his eyes not leaving hers. “I get that.”

They ate in comfortable silence, the conversation flowing easily between them — about the case, about small things in their day-to-day lives, and even a few personal stories shared between bites. It felt… normal. Natural. Like they’d known each other far longer than they actually had.

When they finished, Harry cleared the dishes and made sure everything was put away for the night, leaving her apartment neat and tidy. He didn’t rush. He wanted to make sure she had everything she needed before he left.

As he finished up, Y/N sat on the couch, her arm resting gingerly on a cushion. Harry turned to her, standing near the door, his hand resting on the frame.

“Well,” he said, a slight hesitation in his voice, “I should probably let you get some rest.”

Y/N looked up at him, her heart racing. She couldn’t deny the warmth she felt whenever he was around, the way he seemed to care without even asking for anything in return.

Before she could say anything, Harry moved closer, bending down slightly to press a soft, lingering kiss to her cheek.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he murmured against her skin, his voice barely above a whisper, and then, with a small smile, he turned and left, leaving her with a heart full of warmth and a lingering feeling of something deeper between them.

As she sat there, hand resting on her cheek where his lips had just been, Y/N couldn’t help but smile to herself. She was beginning to realize that Harry wasn’t just her partner in the field; he was someone she could trust — someone who cared for her in a way that made her feel safe, even when the world was anything but.

And maybe, just maybe, she was starting to care about him, too.

____________________________________________

Two days later, Y/N was back at her desk in the FBI office, much to Harry's dismay. He had insisted she take a full week off to recover from the gunshot wound, but Y/N had pushed back. There was too much work, too many files to go through, and far too many lessons to catch up on.

As soon as she walked through the door, the team of detectives greeted her with a chorus of smiles and welcoming remarks. They had all been concerned about her recovery, but now that she was back, the playful teasing began almost immediately.

Eliza, who had a knack for teasing everyone in the office, was the first to speak up. “Look who’s back!” she said with a grin, crossing her arms as she leaned against a nearby desk. “We didn’t think we’d see you until next week! Did Harry finally stop hovering long enough for you to escape?”

Ethan, always quick with a joke, added, “Yeah, I’ve never seen him so worried. He was practically pacing yesterday. Thought he might’ve had a panic attack waiting for you in the hospital.”

Y/N’s cheeks immediately flushed at the mention of Harry’s concern. She had caught glimpses of his worry during her recovery, but hearing it from her colleagues made her suddenly feel self-conscious.

Nora raised an eyebrow with a slight smile. “I think Harry’s got a soft spot for you. It was kind of cute seeing him so protective.”

Cole, ever the playful one, gave a chuckle. “Oh, definitely. You two looked like an old married couple when he was fussing over you. I’m just saying, we all noticed.”

Y/N shot him a mock glare. “You guys are ridiculous,” she muttered, trying to hide the fact that her heart was racing a little faster at their teasing.

Eliza grinned widely. “I ship it,” she said dramatically, her voice teasing. “I think you two are the perfect match. Don’t try to hide it, Y/N. The way Harry was looking after you? That’s textbook romance material right there.”

Y/N’s face went from pink to crimson in an instant. “Stop it, Eliza,” she said, covering her face with her hand in embarrassment.

The team burst out laughing, all of them thoroughly enjoying her discomfort. Just as the teasing reached a peak, the office door swung open with a soft creak, and Harry walked in. The moment he stepped into the room, the energy shifted. The playful chatter stopped abruptly, and the entire team grew quiet. Y/N’s heart skipped as she turned to face him, still feeling the warmth on her cheeks from the teasing.

Harry looked around, his brow furrowing slightly as he noticed the sudden silence. “What’s going on here?” he asked, his voice neutral but with a hint of curiosity. His eyes flicked over the group, landing on Y/N, who was still trying to compose herself.

Ethan leaned forward with a smirk. “Oh, nothing, Harry. We were just talking about how much you were hovering over Y/N when she was at the hospital. You know, the whole ‘I’m so worried I can’t stop pacing’ thing.”

Y/N could feel her face burning as she glanced up at Harry. His expression softened at the mention of his concern for her, though he quickly glanced back at the team with a small, knowing smile.

“It’s my job to take care of my team,” Harry said with a shrug, though his eyes lingered on Y/N for a moment longer than necessary. Then, with a glance back at the team, he added, “I’d rather worry too much than not enough.”

The playful teasing began to die down, but Eliza wasn’t quite done yet. “So, when’s the first official date, you two?” she asked, her voice full of mock sincerity.

Before Y/N could react, Harry gave the room a long, pointed look. “Enough, Eliza,” he said with a smile, his tone warm but firm. “Let’s get back to work.”

With that, Harry turned and left the office, his footsteps light as he disappeared into the hallway. The moment the door closed behind him, the team erupted in laughter once more, their teasing only escalating.

Y/N sighed and shook her head, trying her best to appear unbothered, though she couldn’t help but feel a little giddy from the whole interaction.

__________________________________________________

Y/N walked down the hallway, coffee in hand, a stack of files tucked under her arm. She knocked lightly on Harry’s door before stepping inside, her usual warmth filling the room despite the slight sadness that had been lingering in her chest all day.

"Hey, I brought you those files you asked for," she said with a small smile, placing them on his desk. She set the coffee down beside it, the steam rising in soft tendrils. “And your coffee, of course.”

“You’re a lifesaver.” Harry’s fingers brushed hers as he took the coffee, and Y/N couldn’t help but feel a flutter in her chest at the simple touch. She had been trying to ignore how much she cared about him, how much her heart raced whenever he looked at her, but moments like this made it harder to deny.

Harry caught the fleeting moment in her eyes, his expression softening as he looked at her. "Thanks, Y/N," he said, voice quiet, sincere. There was something in the way he said her name, a tenderness that made her stomach do a little flip.

But the moment passed, and she cleared her throat, pushing the thoughts aside. She wasn’t here to get lost in her feelings. “I should probably let you get back to work,” she said, her tone a little more businesslike, though there was an undercurrent of something deeper.

As she turned to leave, Harry’s voice stopped her.

"Y/N," he said gently, standing up from his desk. "You okay? You seem… I don’t know, a little off today."

Y/N paused, her back to him, a brief silence stretching between them before she turned back around. Her eyes met his, and for a moment, she felt a pang in her chest.

"I’m fine," she lied, but Harry wasn’t buying it.

He studied her for a moment before walking over to her, his expression concerned. “Come on, I know you better than that. What’s going on?”

Y/N hesitated, not wanting to burden him with her feelings, but something in the way he was looking at her made it impossible to keep the truth to herself. “It’s just… well, these are my last two days with the Homicide department,” she said, her voice quieter now. “I’ll miss the team, and… I think I’ll miss working with you the most.”

Harry’s heart tightened at her words, and for a moment, he just stood there, unsure of how to respond. He hadn’t realized how much her leaving would affect him until now.

“You know, Y/N,” Harry began, his tone softer than usual, “we’re all still going to be in the same building. We won’t be far apart. And, hey,” he added, his voice a little lighter, “after your internship is over, you could always join the Homicide department for real. We’d love to have you.”

Y/N’s eyes flickered up to meet his, and a small smile tugged at her lips, though the sadness didn’t quite leave her gaze. “I don’t know. I’ve learned a lot here, and it’s hard to think about leaving. But maybe I’ll consider it… if you’ll still have me.”

Harry’s smile was warm, genuine. “You cracked some of the cases we couldn’t in the short time you were here, and you’ve learnt so much, so quick. Of course we’d have you, y/n.”

Y/N’s chest warmed at his words. “Thank you, sir..”

He nodded, head turning to the phone as it rang, but not before he asked her, “Are you going to Ethan’s party tonight?”

His question was casual, but there was a hint of something in his tone, something that made her heart skip a beat.

She paused for a moment, surprised by the question. She hadn't thought much about the party, not with everything going on in her head, but now that Harry had mentioned it, the thought of spending more time with him — even outside of work — made her feel both nervous and excited.

"Yeah," she said, a small smile tugging at her lips. "I’ll be there. Ethan’s been reminding me about it every day this week."

"Good," he said. “I’ll see you there.”

________________________________________________________

Y/N walked into the lively party, the soft hum of chatter and the clink of glasses filling the air. The warm glow of fairy lights adorned the walls, and the scent of fresh flowers and cake lingered in the air. Her eyes scanned the crowd until she spotted Ethan, who was laughing with a group of friends by the punch bowl.

“Hey, happy birthday!” Y/N grinned, making her way over to him.

Ethan looked up, his face lighting up with a wide smile. “Y/N! I’m so glad you made it! Thank you, thank you for coming!”

Y/N chuckled, giving him a quick hug. “Of course! Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

As they chatted, Y/N’s gaze subtly drifted across the room. She hadn’t seen Harry yet—her boss, and the man who made her pulse race every time their paths crossed. She had dressed up tonight. The red dress she wore hugged her curves in all the right ways, its fabric flowing slightly at her knees. The color made her stand out among the crowd, and for once, she didn’t mind the attention. But deep down, she couldn’t help but wonder if it would catch Harry's eye.

And then, there he was.

Harry stood across the room, talking to some colleagues, but his eyes met hers almost immediately. His gaze lingered longer than usual, his expression unreadable for a moment before it softened. He gave her a small wave, his lips curling into a subtle smile, and she felt her heart skip a beat.

Y/N tried to remain composed, turning back to Ethan to finish her conversation. But she couldn’t help the flutter in her chest. When she finally turned back toward Harry, she could see him making his way toward her, his tall frame parting the crowd effortlessly.

"Looks like someone’s popular tonight,” Ethan teased, nudging her with an elbow, his voice playful.

Before she could respond, Harry reached them, his presence commanding the room even as his tone softened with her.

“Y/N,” he said, his deep voice wrapping around her name. He took a step closer, his eyes never leaving hers. “You look… stunning.”

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat at the unexpected compliment. She hadn't been ready for it—not like this. She had never heard him speak to her like that before. He wasn’t the type to be openly affectionate, especially at work. His gaze, though, was warm, and there was something undeniably intense about it.

Harry is absolutely stunning in this look. His silky gold shirt catches the light, adding a subtle glow that highlights his natural charisma. The shirt clings just enough to emphasize his physique, while the loose, effortless vibe still makes him look laid-back yet polished. The jeans fit him perfectly, showing off his figure without being too tight, and the boots give the whole outfit a bold edge, with just the right amount of ruggedness. His hair, styled into loose curls, frames his face in a way that feels so natural and effortless, giving him a touch of rockstar flair. The tattoos on his arms are on full display, adding an extra layer of intrigue to his look, hinting at a deeper personality and experiences. He looks effortlessly chic, like someone who's confident in their own skin and doesn't need to try too hard to captivate.

“I—uh… thank you,” she stammered, feeling the heat rise to her cheeks. “You… you look great too.” She cursed herself inwardly, knowing how awkward she must’ve sounded.

Harry chuckled softly, the corner of his lips curving up. “I wasn’t talking to you,” he said, his voice teasing as he glanced at Ethan.

Ethan just rolled his eyes, knowing better than to interrupt whatever was about to unfold between them.

“Anyway,” Harry continued, his tone more serious as he looked back at Y/N, “I really meant it. You look beautiful.”

Y/N’s stomach did a little flip at the sincerity in his voice. It was the first time he had ever said something so direct to her. His words hung in the air, and she felt a sudden rush of warmth spread across her skin. She was definitely flustered now, her usual calm composure slipping away.

“Thank you.”, she said, hoping that she wasn’t blushing too much.

For a moment, the space between them seemed to grow heavy, the world around them fading into the background. Y/N found herself looking up into his eyes, and it felt like the chemistry between them was undeniable now. The air hummed with tension, and she could feel her pulse quicken.

Ethan, sensing the growing awkwardness, excused himself with a grin. “Well, I’ll let you two catch up.” With that, he was gone, leaving them alone together.

"So," Harry began, "Care for something to drink?”

"I think that’s a good idea," she said, her nerves slowly easing. "Maybe something non-alcoholic, though. I’m not sure I trust myself with anything stronger tonight."

Harry nodded, clearly amused. "Fair enough. I’ll go easy on you." He motioned toward the bar area. "How about a soda or something?”

"That sounds perfect," Y/N replied, smiling as they made their way over to the bar. The soft chatter of the party still buzzed in the background, but the closer they got to the bar, the more the noise faded, leaving only the hum of conversation between them.

As they reached the counter, Y/N ordered a cold lemonade, Harry opting for iced tea, and they leaned casually against the bar, the glasses in front of them clinking lightly as they were placed down.

Y/N took a sip of her lemonade, enjoying the cool refreshment, and then she realized she was rambling, the words tumbling out before she could stop them. "I’m sorry I’m late," she said with a sheepish laugh. "I meant to get here earlier, but, well, the neighbour’s cat somehow got in my flat, I ran out of mascara and some last minute outfit changes. I swear, if the universe could find a way to make me late, it would."

Harry, who had been quietly listening to her explanation, couldn’t help but smile as she continued. There was something endearing about how she seemed to get lost in the details, her hands gesturing as she spoke, her eyes wide with the intensity of her words.

"Sounds like quite the evening," Harry said, his voice warm, but his expression was softer than she expected. He was looking at her with this amused, almost fond expression, as if he enjoyed hearing her talk. “It’s good that you made it, though.”

Y/N, now realizing she’d been going on a bit too much, suddenly stopped herself, feeling a little embarrassed. “Sorry, I’m rambling. I just—I don’t know why I’m telling you all this,” she said, her face flushing slightly as she tried to compose herself.

Harry chuckled, his gaze never leaving hers. "You don’t need to apologize for that," he said, his voice low and reassuring. "I don’t mind listening. It’s nice hearing you talk about… well, anything, really."

Y/N blinked at the sincerity in his tone. It was unexpected and, in a way, incredibly grounding. It wasn’t just the usual polite conversation, he was flirting with her.

So she decides to do it back.

“So, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in anything other than work clothes. Is this a new Harry I’m seeing?” she asked, a teasing smile tugging at her lips.

Harry laughed. “What, you think I only own suits and vests?” he teased back, a slight smirk of his own forming.

“No,” she replied, his gaze never breaking from hers, “I’m just surprised you’ve never let us see this side of you before. You clean up pretty well.”

Harry smiled. “Thanks. Guess you’ll just have to get used to it,” he said, her voice light but with an edge of confidence.

“What does that mean?”

“That I’d love to hang out with you some time.”

She takes a sip of her drink, before replying, “Are you asking me out?”

“Would you like that?”, he questions her back.

“I think I would.”, she smiles, and he grins, going to say something but a guy comes and slaps his shoulder. “Styles! Long time!”

Harry catches up with his friend for a few minutes, but y/n notices that he’s looking at her most of the time, his eyes flick down to her dress, her legs and quickly back up. When he leaves, Harry leans in to tell her, “I have to say. You’re making it hard for me to focus on anything else tonight.” He didn’t elaborate, but his tone was heavy with meaning, making the space between them seem all the more charged.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, trying to deflect the heat she could feel in her chest. “I’d say I’m not the only one causing distractions around here,” she shot back with a playful smile, scanning the room, but she could feel his gaze still on her.

“You’ve got me there,” Harry replied, his voice dropping slightly, playful but tinged with something else. “But it’s hard to focus on anyone else when you look like that.”

“You’re impossible,” she murmured, though her lips curled into a smile.

Harry smirked, eyes twinkling with mischief. “You like it.”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat, and she suddenly realized how close they were. Knees touching, and his lips were so close. So close she could kiss him. Before she could think about it some more, Eliza appeared at her side.

“Alright, enough of the talking,” Eliza said with a playful glint in her eyes. “Time to get you two on the dance floor!” Without even giving them a chance to protest, she grabbed Y/N’s hand and pulled her toward the crowd, a smiling Harry reluctantly following behind.

Y/N tried to laugh off the sudden shift. “Eliza, we don’t have to—”

“Nope!” Eliza interrupted with a wink at Harry. “You’re both going. It’s happening.”

Y/N couldn’t help but smile at her friend's persistence. “You really think you can play matchmaker in the middle of a party?”

Eliza’s grin widened. “Absolutely. Now let’s dance!”

Before Y/N could protest again, Eliza had them both at the heart of the dance floor, the music filling the air. The crowd around them moved to the rhythm, and so did they, y/n swayed her hips to the beats, raising her arms in the air. Harry’s hands graze her waist, like he was testing waters and when she moves back against his back, his hands hold on to her hips as he moves with her. She can feel him press against her, and the sexual tension is now hard to ignore.

His tattooed hands, clad with rings, wrapped around her, lean fingers that she’d love to have elsewhere. As the song changed, she turned around to keep her hands on his chest and he looked down at her. Harry's gaze was steady on hers, but it wasn’t her eyes he was focused on anymore. She could feel his attention shift slightly, his eyes drawn down to her lips, and for a brief moment, everything else in the room seemed to blur out of existence.

Y/N’s breath hitched, caught in the intensity of the moment. She couldn’t tear her gaze away from Harry’s face either, watching as his eyes lingered on her lips with an almost palpable intensity. It wasn’t subtle—there was no mistaking the way his gaze softened, his lips parted slightly, as though he were struggling to resist the urge to close the space between them.

For a moment, neither of them moved, the air between them thick with something unspoken. She could see the way his eyes flicked from her lips to her eyes, as if weighing the decision, the choice he hadn’t yet made.

“Do you..wanna get out of here?”, he finally whispers.

y/n found herself nodding, “Let’s go.”

With that, Harry’s hand moved to slide over hers, gently grasping it as they weaved through the crowd and out. They were moving so fast, Harry almost tripped over twice, making her giggle.

As soon as they were in his car, both of them didn't hesitate. Harry’s hands cup her cheeks as their lips mold together. The kiss was soft at first, tentative, like a question being asked and answered in the same breath. Y/N’s heart fluttered as she felt Harry’s lips press against hers, a warmth spreading through her like nothing she had ever experienced. There was no urgency, no rush—just the quiet exchange of something deeper, something they had both been holding onto.

“About time we did that.”, he says, still breathless and wanting more of her. She hums in agreement as his tongue swipes against her bottom lip. She parts her lips, letting his tongue slip in and leans over so she can get closer to him, her hands weaving into his hair. He makes it easier by quickly moving his hands to her hips so he can effortlessly shift her to his lap and she squeaks in surprise, making him laugh into the kiss.

He groans as he feels her press herself against him, and he grows so hard, it’s almost painful. He’s been trying to calm his little friend all night.

“Bloody hell, if you keep doing that, I’m gonna cum in my pants.Let me drive us home first, alright?”

She laughed, moving back to her seat. “Alright.”

The car ride was quiet, brimming with anticipation of what was about to happen, and Harry’s hand rested on her thigh, making her squirm in her seat. She just wanted to press his hand to where she most needed him.

“You okay, love?”, he asks, taking the turn that leads to his house.

“Uh huh.”

The minute they make it inside his house, y/n’s pulling him close, connecting their lips again. “Feisty, I like it.”, Harry mumbles against her lips, his hand tracing up her thigh while the other holds her hip.

“Harry..”, she whispers his name, different from all the times she had called out to him, and he loved to hear it.

“Don’t worry y/n, I got you.” His hand finally moves to her centre, fingers directly pressing onto her clit over the material of her panties making her breath hitch and a small moan escape her lips. “Oh baby, you’re so wet. No wonder why you were squirming in the seat.”

“All for you, Harry.”, she replies, parting her legs a little as he taps against her inner thigh. His fingers move the panties to a side and he slides two fingers inside her, fingers sleek against the wetness.

“Oh fuck..”, she moans, her back pressing against the wall. “Please Harry..”

His skilled fingers move in and out of her, curling inside and hitting just the right spot, pleasuring her perfectly. “Wanna taste you, baby, come on, let go for me. I bet you taste so sweet.”

Her eyes roll back and her knees grow weak, but Harry holds her as she reaches her high. He takes his hand from out of her dress and brings his fingers to his mouth, licking each finger clean while looking at her.

“Knew it, sweet as honey.”, he murmurs, and y/n giggles, catching her breath before moving her hands to start unbuttoning his shirt. “That was amazing.”

“Yeah? I can show you more.”, he smirks, watching as y/n runs a hand over his abs, tracing his tattoos. “Show me. Take me to bed, Harry.”

“With pleasure.” He scoops her up, hands splayed over her ass.

“Wait! Let me take off these heels.”, she says, making both of them laugh as she struggles to unbuckle it and Harry helps, strong enough to hold her up with one hand and help her remove the heels with the other.

“Okay now, let’s go.”, she giggles.

“As you wish.”

They share kisses on the way to his bedroom, while she works on the button on his pants, now that she’s thrown his shirt somewhere on the way. “I like your tattoos, makes you look a lot hotter.”

“Thanks, love. Oh shit..” He moans as she palms him over his boxers. “Can I take this off?”, he asks, his hand moving to her back to the hook of her dress.

“Sure.” She lifts her hips so he can slide it down her legs, and he slides down her panties as well. His boxers are on the floor as well, and they both just stare at each other for a minute.

“Fucking hell, you’re a beauty. Gorgeous.”, Harry’s eyes rake over her body, one hand moving to cup her breast in his hand. Every inch of her was beautiful. Her smooth, soft, skin, her breasts were the perfect size to cup in his hands and her nipples were perked up, he earned a soft moan when his thumb brushed over it.

“Is that gonna fit inside?”, she finds herself asking, looking at him quickly rip open a packet of condoms from the night stand and roll it on to his dick. He laughs, loving the ego boost. “We’ll make it fit.”

He lines himself up with her entrance, eyes admiring her glistening pussy. “That’s the prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen.”

Her cheeks redden under his gaze, and she takes in a breath when he pushes inside her. Slowly at first, letting her adjust.

“Fuck me, Harry..”, she moans, the slight pain turning into pleasure.

“That’s just what I’m gonna do.”, he promises, hand squeezing her breast and the other gripped her hip as he started to thrust his hips. y/n didn’t want him to stop. She wanted him, all of him. His weight on top of her. She wanted to squeeze him in further and further. She watches his face. Hair sweaty, the beautiful features of his face contorted in pleasure and she loved that she was the one making him feel like that. She wanted to watch his sweat drop onto her.

“You feel so fucking good.”, he grunts, going faster and she holds on to his back, wanting to say the same thing back, but her mouth doesn’t know how to form words at the moment.

“L-Louder, love, wanna hear how good I’m making you feel.”, he demands, and she doesn’t hold back on her moans. The hand on her breast moves to her jaw. “Open.”

She opens up for him, just as he asked, and his lips pucker a little before he spits, right onto her tongue. She moans, something like electricity zapping through her body.

“You like that, don’t you? Such a dirty girl. Swallow.”

She does, then pulls his face down to press their lips together again. “I-I won’t last much longer.”, she warns.

“Me neither.”, he agrees, quickening his pace.

They cum with their lips locked together, helping each other through their orgasms, riding it out. “You okay?”, he grins when he finally pulls away and she grins back at him, tired, but feeling amazing because she just had the best fuck she’s ever had in her life.

“I’m great. You?”

“Me too.” He smiles, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

___________________________________________

The morning light streamed softly through the curtains, casting a warm, golden glow across the room. The air was still, peaceful, as though the world outside had paused for just a moment. Harry and Y/N were nestled together in the bed, the soft sheets tangled around them. Y/N rested her head on Harry’s chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat lulling her into a contented state of relaxation.

Harry’s fingers gently stroked her hair, his touch tender as he traced slow, gentle circles on her scalp. Y/N shifted slightly, her eyes still closed, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips as she felt the warmth of his embrace.

“So,” Harry murmured softly, his voice still thick with sleep. “Do you always look this cute in the mornings, or is it just me?”

Y/N chuckled, her lips brushing against his chest as she laughed. “Oh, I’m sure it’s just you,” she teased, her voice playful. “I’m usually a total disaster before coffee.”

Harry grinned, leaning down to press a soft kiss to the top of her head. “You’re a total disaster? I find that hard to believe.”

“Well,” she said, her voice muffled against his chest, “you’ve never seen me before 9 a.m. on a Monday. It’s a whole other level of chaos.”

Harry let out a soft laugh, his fingers gently tracing the curve of her back. “I’m sure it’s cute chaos.”

Y/N lifted her head slightly, her eyes meeting his with a playful glint. “Maybe. But only if you can tolerate it.”

He raised an eyebrow, his smile widening. “I think I can tolerate a little chaos, especially when it looks like you.”

She couldn’t help but smile, warmth spreading through her chest. “Flattery will get you everywhere.”

Harry leaned in, brushing his lips softly against hers in a gentle, lingering kiss. It was slow, tender, the kind of kiss that didn’t rush, but simply savored the moment. When they pulled back, their eyes met, the unspoken connection between them more evident than ever.

“You know,” Harry said, his voice soft and teasing, “if you keep looking at me like that, we might have to start the day over.”

Y/N laughed, resting her head back against his chest, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on his skin. “I think I could be convinced to stay here a little longer.”

“Well, I’m certainly not complaining,” Harry said with a soft smile, pulling her in closer. His lips brushed against her forehead in another gentle kiss, his voice low and sincere. “This is perfect.”

But something inside her turned as she came back to reality. He was her boss, and she was his intern. How could they make it Harry, sensing the subtle change in her mood, paused in his movements. He had been so focused on the softness of their time together, the easy jokes, and the warmth of her presence, but now, he could feel the shift. Her breathing had become just a little more uneven, the tension in her body noticeable despite her efforts to remain relaxed.

“Y/N?” Harry’s voice was gentle, but there was an edge of concern. He shifted slightly, tilting her chin so that she met his gaze. “What’s on your mind?”

She blinked, momentarily caught off guard by his question. She hadn’t realized how much she had been lost in her own thoughts. She tried to smile, but it came out a little weak, and Harry wasn’t fooled. He’d always been able to read her, and now wasn’t any different.

“It’s nothing,” she said quickly, brushing it off. “Just... thinking.”

“Thinking about what?” Harry pressed softly, his fingers gently brushing a strand of hair from her face.

Y/N hesitated, her gaze dropping to his chest for a moment.

“I... I just keep thinking about how this is... complicated,” she finally admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “You’re my boss, Harry. I’m your intern. And I don’t want to make things difficult for either of us.”

Harry was silent for a moment, his thumb brushing lightly over her skin, his gaze thoughtful. “Today’s the last day you’re my intern, y/n. We won’t be working with each other as much in the next few months. So it wouldn’t be a problem.”

“What if I decide to work in homicide after my internship and exams?”

He smiled softly, pressing a kiss to her nose. “Then we’ll figure it out. There is no rule that we can’t date co agents, you know.”

“There isn’t?”

He shakes his head. “And if they make one by that time, I’m the head of my department! Leave it up to me. But I’m not letting you go.”, he tightens his arms around her and she slowly smiles. “No?”

“Never.”

She smiled softly, resting her head back on his chest, her fingers lightly tracing patterns on his skin as she let the quiet comfort of his embrace settle over her.

________________________________________________

The cafeteria buzzed with the usual midday noise—the clinking of trays, low murmur of voices, the hum of casual conversation. But for Y/N, it felt like everything had slowed down, the noise fading into the background as she stared at the pile of study materials in front of her. The detective exam was coming up soon, and despite all the hours she’d put into studying, her nerves seemed to have a life of their own, making it harder to focus.

She was trying to hide it, trying to keep the tension in her shoulders from showing, but she couldn’t stop the anxious fidgeting. Her fingers drummed against the table in a rapid rhythm as she flipped through her notes one more time, but the words were starting to blur together. The pressure of the exam, the weight of the expectations, it all felt like too much in that moment.

From across the table, Harry watched her, a soft frown forming as he noticed how tightly wound she seemed. They didn’t work in the same department anymore, but they still met for lunch at work whenever they could. She’d been quiet the past few days, and it was clear why now. He could see the nerves written across her face.

“Hey,” Harry’s voice was gentle but firm, drawing her out of her spiraling thoughts. “You’re overthinking it. You’ve been studying for this for months. You know this stuff.”

Y/N glanced up at him, trying to force a smile, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I don’t know. I’ve been feeling... I don’t know, stuck. Like, I can’t get everything to stick.”

Harry’s eyes softened, his usual playful demeanor replaced by something more serious. He leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on the table, his gaze fixed on hers. “You’re going to be fine, Y/N. You’ve worked hard. You’re one of the smartest people I know. Don’t let a little stress make you doubt yourself.”

She sighed, her shoulders slumping as she finally allowed herself to relax into the weight of his words. “I just keep thinking, what if I mess it up? What if I’m not ready? I’ve been preparing so much, but what if it's not enough?” Her voice was almost a whisper, the anxiety creeping into her words.

Harry gave her a reassuring smile, his eyes warm and steady. He leaned closer, his hand resting over hers on the table, giving it a comforting squeeze. “You’ve been doing this for a long time now. You’re more than ready. You know your stuff better than anyone else in that room. And even if you make a mistake? It’s not the end of the world. You’ll bounce back, like you always do.”

Y/N took a deep breath, feeling the tension in her chest ease a little as Harry’s calm presence wrapped around her like a shield. She let her eyes linger on his hand over hers, the steady warmth of his touch grounding her in the moment.

“You always know how to calm me down,” she said, her voice a little quieter, softer. It wasn’t the first time Harry had been there for her in moments like this, when doubt and pressure threatened to overwhelm her. It was one of the many reasons she trusted him, not just as a colleague, but as a friend. Someone who had always supported her.

Harry gave her a crooked smile, his thumb gently brushing over the back of her hand. “It’s easy when you’re this easy to calm down,” he teased lightly, trying to get her to relax a bit. “But seriously, you’ve got this. I’m not worried, so you don’t need to be either.”

She managed a small smile, feeling the weight on her shoulders begin to lift. “I wish I had your confidence.”

“You do,” he said, his voice steady. “Maybe not always about the exam, but I know you have it in you. Just breathe. Take it one step at a time. You’re not alone in this, alright?”

Y/N nodded, her chest feeling lighter as she looked at Harry. His words had a way of breaking through her walls, reminding her that she wasn’t doing this alone. They had been through so much together, and even if they didn’t work in the same department anymore, his presence in her life still meant everything.

“I guess I just needed to hear that,” she admitted, feeling a bit vulnerable but also grateful. “Thanks, Harry.”

“No problem,” he replied with a smile, his fingers giving hers a reassuring squeeze before he pulled his hand back. “Now, let’s get back to work. You want me to quiz you on the most difficult stuff?”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, a playful challenge flickering in her eyes. “You really think you can handle it?”

Harry leaned back in his chair with a confident smirk, clearly not phased. “I’m pretty sure I’m the right person for the job. You ready?”

“Bring it on,” she said with a grin, her nerves starting to settle now that the pressure didn’t feel so heavy.

The next few hours passed in a blur of study sessions, laughter, and Harry’s teasing as he quizzed her on everything from case law to criminal psychology. By the time they finished their lunch, Y/N felt a little more confident, the weight of her nerves lightening with every bit of encouragement Harry gave her.

_____________________________________________

Y/N smiled as she unpacked the basket, feeling a sense of relief wash over her now that the exam was behind her. “I still can’t believe you packed all this,” Y/N said, grinning at the spread Harry had prepared. She eyed the selection of sandwiches, fresh fruit, crackers, and a couple of chocolate bars he’d included, the treats neatly arranged in front of them. It was simple, but everything looked perfect for a relaxing evening.

Harry chuckled as he poured them both a glass of sparkling water. “I know you like the little things, so I figured we’d go all out for the first time you’re free from that exam. You’re allowed to relax now, you know?”

Y/N laughed, reaching for a sandwich. “I think I could get used to this.”

They ate together, talking about everything and nothing. Harry teased her about her overthinking during the exam, saying that she’d probably over-prepared and knew more than half the people who’d be taking it with her. Y/N rolled her eyes, but her smile betrayed her.

Then they just laid on their blanket, picnic basket forgotten for now as they looked up at the night sky.

The sky above them was breathtakingly clear. The stars were scattered across the heavens like diamonds, twinkling in the vast blackness. The full moon bathed the landscape in silver, casting soft shadows on the grass around them.

She could feel the quiet comfort of his presence next to her, the warmth of his body next to hers despite the coolness of the air. There was no rush, no need to speak, just the shared silence between them, peaceful and full of unspoken understanding.

For a while, they didn’t say anything, just stared up at the stars. Harry’s hand, resting on the ground near hers, brushed lightly against her fingers, a casual touch that made Y/N’s heart flutter unexpectedly. She turned her head slightly, catching him glancing at her with a small, almost unreadable smile, before he returned his gaze to the sky.

“So many stars,” Harry said softly, his voice low and thoughtful. “It’s hard to believe how far away they all are.”

Y/N nodded, her gaze shifting to his profile. The soft glow from the moon casting shadows over his features.He looked so beautiful. She couldn’t help it—everything about this moment felt perfect. Harry, beside her, always there for her, always steady.

It felt like the right moment, the perfect time to finally say the words she had been keeping in her heart for so long. Turning her head, she met his gaze. His eyes were soft, watching her with a curiosity that made her heart swell. “Do you know something, Harry?”

“What is it, love?”

“I love you.”

Finally, Harry smiled, a soft, affectionate grin, and he reached out, gently kissing her lips. “I know, silly. I love you too.”

She grinned, kissing him again. “It’s nice to hear you say it.”

“I’ll say it a thousand times for you, and more. I love you, I love you..”, he kept saying as he kissed every inch of her face and she giggled, knowing that this was just the start of something beautiful.

__________________________________________________

The echo of her footsteps rang through the hallways of the FBI building as Y/N hurried down the corridor, her heart racing in anticipation. The results of her detective exam had just been released, and the moment she saw the passing mark, she couldn’t waste another second. She needed to tell Harry. She needed him to know that all the late nights, the stress, and the pressure had finally paid off.

She passed.

Y/N smiled to herself, the excitement bubbling in her chest, but it quickly faded as she spotted Eliza and Ethan ahead. Her friends waved at her, but her focus was fixed only on one thing: finding Harry. She raised her hand in a quick, distracted greeting, but she couldn’t stop. Not now.

“Hey, Y/N!” Eliza called out, but she was already on the move, her footsteps quickening as she tried to get past them.

“What's the rush?” Ethan asked, raising an eyebrow. “Come on, we’ve gotta celebrate together—”

But Y/N was already a few paces ahead, not wanting to waste another second. “Later! I’ll catch up with you guys later!” she called over her shoulder, her mind racing toward the one place she needed to be: Harry’s office.

When she reached the door, she didn’t knock, instead pushing it open and stepping inside, breathless and flushed with excitement. Harry sat behind his desk, speaking into the phone, his posture relaxed but his attention fully on the conversation. His office was as immaculate as ever, the view from his window stretching out over the city. But for now, none of that mattered. The only thing that mattered was the result of her exam.

She paused, standing there for a moment, waiting for him to notice her. Harry’s eyes flicked up at the sound of the door opening, and his smile bloomed instantly when he saw her. He waved her in, his gaze flickering with a mix of curiosity and affection.

“Hang on a second,” he said to the person on the other end of the call, a brief but polite interruption. “I’ll call you back in a bit,” he finished, ending the conversation and setting the phone down on his desk.

“Y/N,” he said, leaning back in his chair with an amused glint in his eyes. “What’s got you running in here like this?”

“I... I passed,” Y/N said, her voice breathless as she stepped into the office, her hands still trembling from the rush of nerves and excitement. “I passed the exam, Harry. I did it.”

Harry’s expression softened, his smile widening as he stood up from behind his desk, clearly just as thrilled as she was. “I knew you would,” he said, moving toward her with long strides.

Before she could say anything more, Y/N stepped forward, her arms wrapping around him in a tight, spontaneous hug. She felt his arms go around her immediately, pulling her close. For a moment, they stood there, simply holding each other, the quiet joy of the moment enveloping them. All the tension, all the uncertainty, it was gone. All that mattered was the accomplishment, the love and the shared happiness between them.

She pulled back slightly, looking up at him. Harry smiled down at her, his hand gently cupping her cheek. “I’m so proud of you, Y/N. I knew you had it in you.”

They had another minute of silence before Harry interrupted it.

“So,” he began, his voice low, “now that you’ve passed... you’ve still got to decide what comes next, right?”

She nods, pulling back. “That’s why I’m here.” She looked up at him with respect, and admiration. During her internship, being part of no other department gave her the rush like how she felt being part of the homicide department. That was where she wanted to work. The group of people she loved working with and she hoped she could bring a lot of cases to justice and just do her best. She would be working alongside Harry, if everything worked out. Her mentor. The one who had guided her, taught her, and believed in her from the very beginning.

“I’d like to join the homicide department, if you’d have me.”, she tells him.

Harry grins proudly. “I told you we would always be open to having you on board, y/n.” He extends his hand, professionally. “Welcome to the department, Detective Agent y/ln.”

She clasps his hand, smiling wide. “Thank you, Detective Agent Styles. Thank you for everything.”

________________________________________

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xzaddyzanakinx · 10 months ago

Text

Not That Kind of Guy

Part Nineteen: Stalker!Anakin Skywalker x femme reader series

Warnings: stalking, weirdo behavior, psychotic/delusional behavior, possessive/protective, sexism/misogyny, sexual content/fantasizing, pervy behavior, panty/scent kink, mask kink(Ghostface), gaslighting/manipulation, public/semi-public, spitting, cumplay, nude vids/pics, masturbation, oral, PIV, dick piercing, forced orgasm, bondage/blindfolds, biting/slapping/ spanking/cutting, rape kink, NONCON/DUBCON/CNC, Somno, blood, knife, GEN. SMUT, [All possible tags listed, all may not apply] GORE, MURDER

Info: Anakin is thoroughly enjoying making you squirm, also, how dare another man look at you [diary entries from Ani] extremely not proofread. MDNI 18+

Your heart stopped and your skin turned cold, every hair on the nape of your neck stood up straight. Scream? Anakin wants to watch Scream? You can’t tell him no, right? You’d mentioned ages ago that you liked the Scream movies, it would be strange to deny that now. Right? You had no choice, you had to act normal, as normal as possible.

“Scream? Oh! Right.” You nodded, cringing internally as you heard your words aloud. “Yeah, let’s watch that. The original?”

”Duh, that one is the only one worth watching.” He chuckled, looking down at you cuddled up against him. He just adored you so much, even now, watching as you awkwardly cleared your throat and darted your eyes toward anything other than the TV or him.

”Yeah,” You laughed nervously, Anakin smirked but hiding it with a quick lick across his top lip. “Yeah the original is my favorite too.”

”Huh, really?” He asked, trying to sound more thoughtful than teasing. “Why’s that?”

”Why is it my favorite?” You asked, meeting his crystalline eyes for a split second. “I don’t really know, I guess maybe it’s the nostalgia?”

“Sure.” Anakin snorted, bringing his knuckles to his mouth to hide his downturned smile.

”What?” You scowled, pulling back from your position against his chest so you could see his whole face. “Well why is it your favorite?”

”Geez, defensive are we?” He snickered, pinching your rib playfully. “I’m teasing doll, no need to be ashamed.” He sucked in his cheek on one side of his face, biting down lightly while he let out an amused puff of air through his nostrils.

”Ashamed?” You bolted up and quickly remembered you shouldn’t be acting so jumpy, the more on edge you seem the more suspicious he will become. Right now it seemed he had no clue about Ghost, he was simply being your stupid goof of a clueless boyfriend.

“I bet you were one of those little freaks who fawned over Billy and Stu even after the masks came off.” His voice low and taunting, like he already knew the answer.

”What?” You squeaked, wiping the shocked expression from your face to replace it with feigned amusement. “Ha-ha very funny.” You rolled your eyes and dropped your head back to his shoulder, hoping that would signal the end of his teasing.

”S’okay sweetheart.” He whispered as his arms encircled you in a quick squeeze, his hands laced together to rest on your waist. “I’ll quit.”

You felt a mixture of emotions as you watched the movie, the most prominent being embarrassment. It was so difficult to sit there with Anakin who continued to lavish you in affections, while watching people with the face of your lover (who you absolutely did not miss) slash people to death. Why can’t you just be normal? Why can’t you just watch this movie and not be so distracted by the memories you’d been replaying in your mind for days. They were coming back in full force and worse.

It was like watching your Ghost on screen. It was so much more attractive than it ever should be. You hadn’t watched this movie since well before Ghost was officially introduced into your life, the film used to be kitschy and just good old horror movie fun. Now it was more like porn with a side of stabbing. You kept thinking back to that night at the lake, how sick to your stomach you were, how awful you felt for pulling that trigger. How easy it was for Ghost.

You’d never admit it aloud but deep down, in that terrifying corner of your mind that you squirreled away these darker thoughts containing Ghost, you had stored a different feeling that you’d refused to acknowledge until now. It wasn’t normal, it wasn’t right, this was real life, not fiction. Ghost killed real people, you killed a real person. It wasn’t shits n’ giggles and bad fake blood.

Real blood, all over everything. You had always thought that scary movies over did it with the blood, that there couldn’t possibly be that big of a puddle, but now you knew for certain, they didn’t use enough. A real gun, real knives, real bodies who used to be real people who had real families.

So why the hell did you feel so… hot under the collar when you disobeyed his orders and took a peek at his handiwork in the trunk of that car? Was it the confidence in what he was doing, the way he seemed so completely unphased by the situation? Was it the way he was able to stay the same Ghost you’d come to know and love? It was so hard to be scared despite knowing what he was capable of. He made you feel safe and protected, cared for and loved. Even as he was elbow deep inside a corpse.

He cracked jokes, he hummed and laughed, he got down on your level and comforted you the best that he could all while cleaning up the mess you’d both made. You might’ve almost puked, went into a state of shock, and spiraled for a few days… but with your new perspective it wasn’t really all that bad. Except that it was bad. Illegal, horrid, and a gory mess. Which is exactly why you were having a hard time coming to terms with the fact that watching the killers wearing Ghost’s mask… using that same humor and attitude, had you soaking wet and blushing.

“Where ya going babydoll?” Anakin asked, his hands falling away from you as you stood up.

”I’ll be right back.” You said, thankful the room was dark as you gave him a quick reassuring smile over your shoulder before disappearing into the bathroom.

Once inside you splashed your face with cold water, begging the pink tint in your cheeks to dissolve. You felt for your phone but realized you’d left it in the living room, probably for the best anyway. You didn’t come in here to text Ghost, you came in here to stop thinking about him. So you left the bathroom and went to Anakin’s room, grabbing the stuffed animal you kept there and returned to Anakin’s lap. Maybe the distraction and quick walk would help to reset your brain.

”You okay pretty girl?” He asked quietly, kissing the crook of your neck lightly as you settled back down.

“Yeah I’m okay.” You nodded, giving him a soft smile, trying to keep yourself under control and watch a simple movie with him.

“M’kay.” He hummed, resting a hand on your stomach while the other found its way to your hair, tugging one lock teasingly before playing with it by twirling it around his finger over and over again.

“I don’t understand how she doesn’t realize that’s her boyfriend.” He scoffed, watching the scene playing out in front of you. “Like you’d think she’d notice the shoes right?” He asked, his hand gently trailing up and down your arm as he watched the movie.

“His shoes?” You asked, paying attention to Ghostface’s feet as he burst out of the bathroom stall.

“Yeah, both of ‘em they wear the same shoes in and out of costume. Those girls have some shit observation skills.” He said, waving his hand flippantly.

“I think she’s a bit too busy trying not to get murdered to notice his shoes, Ani.” You rolled your eyes, taking a sip of your drink before sitting it back down.

“Hey I’m just saying they should’ve been smarter.” He said, pointing at the screen. “It’s stupid to wear a full consume but not change your damn shoes.”

“It would make sense yeah.” You agreed without much thought, watching as Sidney ran down the hall and trampled down the stairs.

“I always thought he should’ve got one good jab in.” He said, pushing his hand forward in a stabbing motion. “Have her stumble out into the hall holding her guts.”

”That’s disgusting.” You grimaced, looking up at him to see him take a swig of a fresh beer, he only answered with a shrug and his mouth pulled over to one side.

”Just sayin’ would’ve made a damn good scene.” He said, tilting your chin up with his ringed fingers to plant a soft kiss to your lips.

”You went into the wrong profession.” You joked awkwardly. Anakin often made comments like this during movies, sometimes you even added your own too, but it just felt so odd to hear him talk about Scream like that.

”Psycho killer?” He snorted, giving you a mischievous grin.

“No!” You scoffed and smacked at his arm, that same blush returning to your cheeks. “No I meant movies and stuff.”

“Movies and stuff?” Anakin repeated, feigning thoughtfulness. “I’ve never considered going into the film industry. But I bet it would be fun, so long as you’re my final girl.”

”Aw how sweet.” You joked, feeling uncomfortable as a familiar jolt of guilt and curiosity ripped through your chest.

”What’s wrong baby?” He asked, brushing hair from your face and cupping your cheek with the palm of his hand. “You got all tense on me.”

”Oh it’s nothing.” You shook your head, trying to force yourself to relax in his arms again.

“You can tell me princess, did I upset you?” He asked, a worried expression forming on his face as his eyes scanned your features. Anakin was always so considerate of your feelings, times like now reminded you of how horrible you really were.

”It’s really nothin’ Ani, just me being me.” You sighed, at least that wasn’t a lie, you thought.

”I like it when you’re you.” He smiled, kissing the corners of your mouth to make them tip up into a tiny smile. “But I also like it when you tell me what’s on your mind.”

”Ani, really it’s no big deal.” You said, trying to keep the little smile you’d managed. “Just thinkin’ about… about the movie that’s all.”

”Ah.” Anakin nodded, looking back up at the screen and then back to you. “I get it.” He smirked.

”Get what? There’s nothing to get.” You huffed, getting defensive. You didn’t like how you were losing control of the situation.

”S’okay baby, I know.” He whispered, shifting your weight in his lap, scooting out from under you to hover over your smaller frame.

”What?” You asked, furrowing your eyebrows in a panicked concern.

”Mhm.” He nodded, his eyes locked on your lips as they twitched, desperate to form an excuse that just wouldn’t come out. “I know your little secret.”

”Wait, Anakin- I can explain.” You said, sitting up quickly as your heart raced in your chest.

“No, its alright doll.” He shook his head, a firm hand on your wrist to keep you seated. “I understand. Luke explained everything.”

Luke? Luke sold you out. Luke has ruined your relationship, your life, your one chance at real love. It was devastating to realize your oldest and truest friend had turned on you.

“No.” You stuttered, floundering helplessly as Anakin’s free hand reached behind his back. “No, Luke has no idea what he’s talking about Anakin, I-“

”Sweetheart, you don’t need to be embarrassed.” He said, frowning slightly.

“Embarrassed? I- well,” You were so confused, why wasn’t he yelling? What was happening? Why did Luke betray you? “Why aren’t you angry at me?”

”Angry at you?” He asked, taken aback by your question. He sat back on his haunches and looked a little deflated. “Babydoll, I’m not angry at you. I would never be angry at you over a little crush.”

”A crush? It wasn’t! It was nothing I swear.” You said, holding up your hands that he gently took in one of his.

”C’mon, everyone has weird little crushes on movie characters.” Anakin said with a small amused smile, “It’s okay sweetheart. So, what if you think Ghostface is a little hot. Nothing to be ashamed of.” He teased, bringing your hands to his lips so he could gently kiss your knuckles.

You stared at him in silent shock. He wasn’t talking about Ghost. He wasn’t about to tell you to get the fuck out and not come back. He was teasing you about a crush on a movie character. You almost gave yourself up, you almost ruined the relationship you’d went to Luke to fix. Although you felt awful for jumping to conclusions and assuming Luke had marched his ass over and told Anakin what you had done… You felt more betrayed that he had only shared your horror movie crush.

He couldn’t have known that your movie crush was also your real-life side piece. He would’ve had no way of knowing that telling Anakin about something to trivial would send you into such an upset. But that’s beside the point. He’d told Anakin a secret of yours that was on the same high-security tier as Luke being in love with Dwayne from Lost boys, how he made you rewatch the carousel scene so many times just because someone grabbed at his ugly necklace.

”I was just thinking…. It’s October, we’re having a movie marathon, Walmart always has cheap props.” He shrugged, slowly bringing his arm from behind his back to show you a big rubber knife and a cheaply made Ghostface mask.

The air turned stagnant around you, like everything in the room was waiting for your reaction. Even you.

“What do you say princess?” He asked, his voice low and smooth as he slipped the mask over his head. “Wanna play a game?”

Diary Entry: October 3rd

I’ve given so much thought to how I would tell you about Ghost and I simply can’t decide on my approach. So in order to ensure that I’m on the right track i think it’ll be a good idea to do a bit of a trial run. Going back to my roots now with the pre-planning and lengthy thought process. Impulsivity is not my friend.

So after a very interesting chat with your very best friend I know have an excuse as to how I know about your love for Scream. I won’t have to mention that I read it in your diary. I can blame it on Luke. Truly, so thankful for that guy in so many ways. He’s such a good friend to you and he’s certainly a good friend to me as well considering how he willingly offered up your dirty secret to me when I asked him his opinion of my Halloween costume ideas.

“You wanna know what she’d really love? Be the guy from Scream. She’s got the hots for Ghostface.”

Yes indeed you do.

October 4th continued.

”Anakin… are you sure?” You asked, unable to comprehend exactly what was happening. Anakin was offering to dress up as Ghost Ghostface? Why?

“Yeah, it’ll be fun.” He said, his voice muffled and so unlike the one you loved to hear when seeing this mask hovering over you.

”I-I don’t know,” You stuttered, the feeling in your gut churning on the brink of arousal and the precipice of nausea. “If you’re sure…”

”Don’t you trust me sweetheart?” He cooed, taking the rubber knife and running it along your forearm. “If you don’t like it, we’ll stop.”

”Of course I trust you, it’s just…” Your voice was shaky and uncertain as Anakin ground his bulge against you, nudging your thighs apart. Anakin was making it so difficult to say no, so difficult to do anything but give in like you wanted to. He may not be Ghost, he may not have his voice, but god did he have a dick that was just as good as his.

”There we go, atta girl.” He whispered, watching the hesitation in your expression fade into something more malleable. “Just let me make you feel good.”

You nodded, afraid to speak and say something you shouldn’t. His big hands tugging your pants down your thighs and peeling them off as quickly as he could, not bothering to remove your panties. His hands fumbled with his belt and jeans, finally releasing his throbbing cock.

“Finally got out that new jewelry.” He said as he stroked himself, looking down at you through the eyes of the cheap plastic mask. “Think you’ll like it?”

He twisted the silicone ball, turning on the gentle vibration. You watched as the new sensation made him shiver, goosebumps prickling at his toned, tattooed arms. Pulling aside your panties he guided his cockhead back and forth through your folds, making sure to pause over your clit and put pressure on the sensitive little nub.

”Mhm, I-I think I will.” You whispered, your breath hitching in your throat as he continued his teasing movements. He grasped the base of his cock firmly, notching the tip at your entrance to slowly rock his hips.

With a tortuously slow pace he pushed against your weeping pussy, only going far enough to tease you with his girth before easing up again. His calloused thumb making its way to flick over your clit, making you jolt and gasp.

“You gonna let me fuck you?” He asked quietly, kneeling between your legs as he kept up his work. “Or am I just going to have to take what I want?”

The tip of the rubber knife lifted up the edge of your shirt, pushing it over the swell of your breasts, allowing him the view of your bra and the soft hills and valley of your chest. Anakin left the fake knife on your lower stomach as he slipped his fingers under the cup of your bra, gripping the soft flesh beneath as he gently kneaded it in his palm.

”Ani…” You whimpered, the added stimulation from the vibrations and his gentle but firm hand was clouding your mind. It felt good, but it was difficult to relax, it all felt so forced and not in the way that you enjoyed. “I-I don’t think-“

”So I’ll just have to take it then.” He growled, his voice gravely and rich as he pushed inside your cunt, feeling your walls contract around his thickness. The jewelry paired with the blunt tip of his cock made for an oddly satisfying experience as he hit your cervix when he bottomed out. Despite your hands on his chest in protest, your stomach tensed with pleasure.

”Anakin, please I-“ You started to object, to tell him this was all too strange, but he silenced you by pressing down on your lower stomach, feeling his cock bulging in your tummy. You squeaked, involuntarily clenching around him when you squeezed your eyes shut tightly. “B-but Anakin I-“

”Shh, c’mon babydoll.” He hushed you, moving his hand up your body until his palm rested over your throat, his fingers wrapping around to gently squeeze. “S’okay I know you want it.”

”No, no I-“ He squeezed harder, cutting off your air supply until your words crumbled in your throat.

“Don’t lie to me.” He snapped, though you could tell he wasn’t actually mad, there was a hint of amusement tainting the harsh tone. “I know what you want, what you need.”

”Yeah… yes.” You nodded, biting your lip. This just kept getting worse and worse. You wanted to let go, to enjoy yourself. But the guilt of literally being face to face with your lies made it nearly impossible.

”I can see it in your eyes sweetheart.” He whispered as he thrusted deep and hard, taking his time to drag his cock out and ensure the vibrations rubbed over the sweet spot deep inside of you. “You need this, huh? You love it. Don’t you?”

”Uh huh.” You nodded, your eyes fluttering closed again as you sucked in a deep breath through your nose.

“No way princess,” He chuckled, giving you a light tap to your cheek, not nearly hard enough to call it a smack. “Keep your eyes open for me. I like seeing how big those pupils get when you look at me.”

Not only did you have to worry about your mouth getting you into trouble, now you became hyper aware of every movement in your body. You couldn’t control your eyes or the way they reacted, but you could try your best to keep everything else in check.

“Don’t be like that.” He teased, running his thumb across your jaw. “Just relax.”

”Ani, I can’t.” You whimpered, your hands coming up to cover your face as it flushed bright pink.

“You can, you just won’t.” He retorted, ripping the mask off with a huff as he shook his head in frustration. “Turn around baby.” He breathed as he pulled out, smacking your hip to hurry you along.

On your hands and knees you positioned yourself for Anakin, thankful you wouldn’t have to look him in the face and thankful he’d taken off that stupid mask. He pushed back inside, this time he was hell bent on using you until you came, regardless of what you thought you wanted. His hips slamming against yours in a punishing pace, the wetness of your folds coating his length and dripping down his balls.

“I was- was just trying to spice shit up a little.” He panted, spanking you with a loud *crack* to make you yelp. “Thought you’d like it? Liked it enough to tell Lukey all about it. Just not enough for me to make it happen for you?”

“I’m sorry.” You whined, your cunt fluttering around his length from the sting left by his palm.

”You should be.” He grunted, one hand tangling in your hair to pull roughly, each strand tugging uncomfortably on your tender scalp. “I had a whole schtick worked out for you doll.”

”I… am.” You panted, your words coming out clipped. “Sorry, I’m really sorry.”

“Was gonna take this stupid thing and hold it right here.” He grumbled, taking the rubber knife and pressing the blunt, pliable tip just under your jaw, if it were a real knife, one slip, one knick with too much pressure…

“M’s-sorry.” You moaned, his grumpy comment holding a pinch of something else that made your insides flip.

“I know you are.” Anakin’s condescending tone meeting your ears with a sharp edge. “It’s alright darlin’, just need you to cum for me. That’ll make it all better won’t it?”

“It’ll be all better.” You tried to nod but found that he was gripping your hair too tightly. The way he was fucking you so hard, so deep… no. No that’s not right, you can’t think of Ghost right now, that’s exactly what you were trying to avoid.

“Yeah? Well let’s speed it up, huh?” He panted, reaching down to roll your clit between his finger and thumb, pulling and twisting it with a gentle but insistent pressure. “This… this fucking jewelry- I, fuck.”

“Sh-shoulda bought some fuckin’ numbing cream or some shit, Jesus.” Anakin hissed through his teeth, feeling his balls drawing up tight as he fought off his orgasm, clenching his teeth so tightly that they squeaked.

You braced yourself against the couch’s armrest with one hand, the other staying firmly planted on the cushion below you as you looked to the side, catching a glimpse of that stupid plastic mask, so unlike the one you’ve grown so used to seeing. It was all wrong, this was all wrong.

You couldn’t concentrate, you couldn’t relax, you couldn’t push it all away and focus on the only thing worth paying attention to. Anakin was fucking you into oblivion, your body unable to fully enjoy the experience because your mind simply could not come to terms with the reality of your situation.

Yes it felt good, so good. Yes you were on the brink of orgasm. Yes Anakin was talking you through it just how he loved to, always guiding you through your big, overwhelming orgasms. But this wasn’t big or overwhelming. If anything it was lackluster and flat, a moment of bliss followed by a horrible longing that tugged behind your bellybutton. Anakin’s cock slowing inside you as he pumped you full of his hot, sticky seed.

He leaned forward to rest his forehead between your shoulder blades, the gesture feeling more intimate than the sex you’d just had. His arms wrapped around your waist as he held your back to his chest, allowing his cock to slip from your folds, leaking cum and slick down onto the couch below. Though he didn’t seem to care, he was more concerned with you getting back in his lap and covering you both up with a big fuzzy blanket.

“I’m… I’m sorry that didn’t go well. I shouldn’t have sprung it on you like that.” He whispered, tucking your hair behind your ear.

“No, no it’s okay. I was just overthinking it.” You said quietly, not wanting him to feel bad for something that was entirely your fault and completely outside his realm of knowledge.

“Still, that was unfair of me.” He said, nuzzling into your neck, kissing under your jaw and along the curve of your neck. “Won’t happen again baby I promise.”

“Well, Anakin, I don’t know about using the mask… or any mask. But… but the other stuff would be okay.” You offered, gesturing to the rubber knife and the cock ring he was currently removing.

He wiped his hands off on his discarded shirt, placing the silicone jewelry on the coffee table before snuggling back up against you. He gave you a curious look, his mouth turned in a half smirk but his eyes spoke of something different.

“The knife?” He asked with a snicker, picking it up and bending the tip back to release it and watch as it wobbled back and forth. “You think that’s hot?”

“Well no, that’s not…” You squeaked, scrambling to correct yourself.

“Good.” The word coming out in a low tone, sounding serious. “I do too.”

“Wait what?” You furrowed your eyebrows, your mouth parted slightly as you waited for him to repeat himself, needing to hear it again just to be certain.

“You heard me.” He raised an eyebrow, his lip curving up in a cheeky smile.

“That- its kind of dangerous don’t you think?” You said quickly, immediately regretting your poor decision to dig further into this conversation.

“Not if we don’t use a real knife. Don’t be silly.” He snorted, patting your thigh before stroking it with light fingertips. “We can try that another time, or not at all. But there’s no reason to stress now, let’s just have a quiet evening like we planned.” He said softly.

“Okay,” You nodded, accepting his words for what they were. It’s not that you didn’t trust Anakin with a real knife, you just weren’t certain that anyone could wield one as expertly as Ghost. “that sounds like a plan.”

He hummed in agreement, savoring the feel of your warm flesh against his. He held you, pet you, kissed you and loved on you until the previous encounter was nearly forgotten, save for the pit in your stomach that screamed out for your attention.

The movie was picking up speed, getting to the more important and more interesting moments where the Ghostface duo was picking off cast members at Stu’s house. Anakin sat back and propped his feet up, stifling a light laugh as Tatum was lifted into the air via the garage door. He made a crunching sound to mimic the noise of her neck cracking under the pressure of the doorframe and the garage door mechanism, poking you in the side to make you giggle with him.

”I always thought this bit was so fucking funny.” Anakin snorted, gesturing to the TV where Ghostface has just slit Kenny’s throat and is patiently waiting for Sidney’s reaction, not attempting to immediately attack her when he had the advantage of her shocked state. “And like, dude really? Trying to crawl out the van after her like that? The back is open, just walk around.”

”He was probably trying to pull her back inside.” You shrugged, glancing over at him.

“Should've just walked around.” He mumbled, making a circle motion with his pointer finger.

Diary Entry: October 4th

I’m really confused by your reaction to tonight’s activities, I wasn’t expecting that at all. I thought you’d be thrilled, seeing ‘Ghost’ after going so long without hearing from him. I thought you’d let loose and enjoy yourself, I thought maybe you would let yourself be a little more kinky with me.

You’ve always saved that for Ghost and I know you’ll be completely unsatisfied with our sex life if we don’t incorporate that into our bedroom. If Ghost isn’t going to be around anymore then you’ll just have to share that part of yourself with me. I was trying to show you that, trying to show you that I can do what you need, what you want and crave. I’ve been giving it to you for how long now? Just let me do it this way alright?

Now, let me rant for a minute because I’m still a little upset that you turned off your phone when you went to Luke's, that’s the whole reason I had a chat with him the other day in the first place but the guy had his lips locked up tighter than Fort Knox. Like I’m glad he’s such a good friend to you but damn that is real inconvenient for me. I wanna know what you felt was too sensitive to share with me.

Are you just being petty?

Date: October 10th

”Anakin no, that’s hideous.” You giggled, covering your mouth as you grabbed the packaged costume from his hands and shoved it back on the shelf.

”What do you mean?” He grinned, his hands squeezing your hips from behind as you flipped through the rack in front of you. “You’d look smokin’ as a sexy little Dalmatian. I’ll be your big strong fireman.”

”As much as I would love to see you in a fireman’s uniform, I’ll have to pass.” You squeaked as his nipped your neck and let his hand run over your ass when he continued on past you to continue looking for costumes.

“Your loss babydoll.” He clicked his tongue, glancing over at you as you pulled a skimpy fairy costume from the rack.

”No ma’am.” He scoffed, taking it from you and putting it back, “That’s a single girl get-up. You can’t go out like that.”

”Oh c’mon I was just lookin’.” You rolled your eyes and patted his cheek with a little smirk, it was nice having someone like Anakin be so protective for the right reasons.

“Should we do something like as a couple?” You asked, looking at the back wall where a large collection of duo costumes were on display.

”I don’t know darlin’… wouldn’t make much sense for half a sandwich to be behind the bar and the other half roamin’ around with dumb and dumber.” He flashed you a grin, nodding toward the other side of the room where Luke and Han were piling on an unnecessary amount of ugly costume accessories just for shits and giggles.

”Oh my god, we are never getting out of here if they don’t start actually looking!” You said, progressively getting louder until Luke’s head turned on a swivel and his face revealed a startled ‘oops’ expression.

”Why do you think we drove separate?” He snickered, squeezing the back of your neck affectionately.

“You’re awful.” You snorted, pulling him along to another rack of costumes.

”Let’s just do these.” He said, plucking two of the thick plastic bags from the rack, flipping them around to show you the old timely baseball uniforms.

“I’ve never played baseball a day in my life.” You giggled, taking it from him and glancing over the items listed inside. A dress, long socks, a belt, and a baseball cap.

“I played at camp.” Anakin said, toying with his lip ring using the tip of his tongue. “For like three games.”

”Really?” You asked, raising your eyebrows. “What happened?”

”Summer before middle school, Mom wanted to go on a girls trip so she shipped me off for a week. It was pretty fun actually.” Anakin said, taking the package back from you and laying it over his arm. “I was good at it too, just… just swung my bat a little too hard and a camp counselor ended up with a chipped tooth.” He winced.

”Did it go flying out of your hands?” You asked, eyes wide as you tried to hold back a laugh. “Happened to me when I used to help Lauren practice for tennis.”

”Mmm, yeah somethin’ like that.” He snorted, pulling you into his side to plant a kiss to your forehead. “So this is what we’re going with?” He asked.

”Yeah, i think those will be fine.” You hummed, walking beside him. “We’ll be matching but we won’t have to be standing right next to each other for it to make sense.”

”Good girl.” He nodded, his hand rubbing up and down your back soothingly.

“I can’t believe girls wore dresses to play baseball.” You commented, tapping the plastic bag.

”Why?” Anakin asked, guiding you up to the register and tossing the two packages down on the counter for the woman at the register to ring up. “Girls used to only wear dresses. Why wouldn’t they wear ‘em to play ball in too?”

“Cause what if they flipped up and flashed everyone?” You laughed.

”That’s why they wore spanx you goof.” He snorted, handing over his debit card to pay for the costumes.

“I don’t think spanx was a thing back then.” You shook your head with a little frown.

”Well then I guess they just wore their ugliest granny bloomers and hoped no one looked.” He grinned at you, taking the bag from the cashier and pocketing his wallet.

You shook your head at him, dragging him along by his shirt sleeve as you walked past the counter and through the store. You pulled out your phone, shooting off a text to Luke to let him know you were leaving the Halloween store and going to roam about the rest of the mall before meeting up again for lunch together. After a minute or two your phone buzzed while you were waiting loyally by Anakin’s side as he filtered through posters, records and cd’s.

“Oh god.” You gasped, looking down at your phone as you burst into laughter. “Oh my god, the only costume big enough for Han is a ketchup bottle.”

“What?” Anakin spun around, looking at you as though he wasn’t sure he’d heard you correctly.

”Look.” You giggled, showing him the picture of a very unamused Han in a giant ketchup bottle and a much shorter, giggly looking Luke in a hot dog costume.

”No fuckin’ way.” Anakin laughed, zooming in on Luke’s costume. “Dude gross, his hot dog has relish on it.”

“No, it’s gross they went to the changing room and tried the stuff on.” You shivered, remembering how you’d peeked your head in earlier to see the trash and discarded costumes that hadn’t fit other customers.

”Have you seen the size of that guy? He can’t not go to the dressing room.” Anakin retorted, shaking his head in amusement.

“No shit.” Snorting as you thumbed through a very thick stack of discount records with damaged sleeves. “Hey, do you have this one?” You asked, holding up a brand new record of the Pain Remains trilogy by Lorna Shore, the only blemish you could see was a long straight line down the back of the sleeve, presumably from a box cutter when the workers were unboxing the shipment.

“Oooh no ma’am I do not,” He grinned, plucking it from your hand and inspecting it to make sure the record inside was still intact. “Oh I just love you, I’ve been looking for this one.” He squeaked, tossing his arms around you from behind and kissing the nape of your neck.

“You know, you could just order th-“

”Mmm, no. Stop right there.” He silenced you with a finger to your lips, his breath hitting the back of your neck. “I will never order a record **or CD. That takes all the fun out of my little treasure hunt.”

“Treasure hunt?” A smile tugging at the corner of your mouth as you tilted your head to kiss his cheek while you clumsily walked as he shuffled along behind you, not letting you out of his embrace.

“Yeah, that’s the best way to collect stuff.” Anakin nodded seriously. “It’s no fun if you don’t have to work for it.”

You laughed, not understanding the appeal of having to wait for something you desperately want, when you could order it and have it in your hands the very next day. Whereas Anakin could have to wait weeks, maybe months to find the one thing he was searching for.

“Don’t knock it til you try it.” Anakin said, nipping your shoulder as he finally released you to jog down the aisle in front of you with a giddy laugh, skipping for the last few steps to the back wall. Doing his very best extra exaggerated Vanna White impression as he gestured to a CD before picking it up excitedly.

”See?” He jumped in place, tapping the case rapidly with one finger. “It’s the very last one! That makes it even better, knowing I’m now the proud owner of the last new Angelmaker album.” His mouth dropped open in exaggerated shock. “At least until they restock.” He added with a shrug.

”I’ll admit it’s very cute to see you get so happy over some plastic.” You teased.

“Did you hear that? She thinks I’m cute.” He whispered shouted from behind his hand at what you assumed was an imaginary person until they appeared near Anakin. A random guy around your age, with an extremely thick septum ring, appraised your appearance.

”I think she’s cute.” He stated very boldy as he flashed you a bright smile and stuck out his hand toward you.

“Seriously?” Anakin huffed, flicking the guy on the forehead. “That’s my girlfriend you little shit.”

”Oh, oops.” The guy turned beet red with embarrassment and profusely apologized. “I had no idea, I just assumed…”

”Yeah, yeah.” Anakin grumbled, possessively putting his arm around your shoulder, grabbing your face to very sloppily kiss you in front of the guy. Making it very clear that he was enjoying every second of it while he tongue fucked your mouth.

“Anyway.” He sighed, pulling back from the kiss to show off his devilish grin, complete with his dimples on display, obviously very pleased with himself not only for his display but also for the way you responded to it with buckling knees and immediate submission.

“Ring these up will you Ferdinand?” He glared, shoving the record and CD into the guy’s hands, only then did you notice he was wearing a name tag and a lanyard with a set of keys attached, marking him as an employee at the store.

”I hate it when you call me that.” He grunted, taking a step back from the force that Anakin used to thrust the items at him.

“I hate it when you hit on my girlfriend.” Anakin retorted in a mocking tone, muttering something under his breath as he watched him walk toward the register.

”You know him?” You asked awkwardly.

“Used to think he was pretty alright. Name’s Eric, I talk to him just about every time I’m in here.” He said, glaring over at him as you both slowly gravitated toward the front of the store. The look in his eyes bringing a chill to your flesh, that look you hated, the one so icy cold you’d swear it could freeze over hell. As always, the moment he blinked, it was gone. The warmth returned to his sea-blue eyes.

”It’s alright though, he didn’t know. He’s a hopeless flirt anyway.” Anakin chuckled, patting your ass as he pulled out his wallet, his pants chain jangling as he dug around in his deep pockets. “The guy’s type is ‘anyone who will pay attention’.”

“Well that’s just sad.” You snickered under your breath, quieting yourself when you reached the register.

“I know.” Anakin smirked. “Isn’t it? A real shame huh?” He prompted Eric without giving him context.

He looked up from the magazine he had laid out in front of him, sliding a paper bag across the counter in exchange for Anakin’s cash. It struck you as odd considering how he’d used his debit card at the last store. But you didn’t think too hard on it, you were too busy trying not to laugh when Eric blindly agreed with Anakin.

”Huh? Oh yeah, I know right?” He nodded nonchalantly, in that all too common way that retail workers do when they weren’t listening to a lick of what was happening around them, continuing to fish change out of the cash drawer.

“Thanks man.” Anakin grunted, taking the cash and stuffing it messily into his wallet. While he was distracted with that, Eric handed you the receipt. You accepted it without a second game and tucked it in your back pocket. Ready to leave, Anakin looped his thumb through the back belt loop of your pants and steered you to the door.

“Luke and Han are going to BoxLunch,” You said, stooping down to pick up the receipt that fell from your pocket when you checked your phone. “They want us to meet them there, then we can go to Charley’s for lunch.”

You handed the crumpled receipt to Anakin as you spoke, continuing to walk after shoving your phone back in your pocket. Suddenly you felt Anakin’s hand fall away from it’s comforting resting place, turning your head to the side to see what was the matter. You saw Anakin standing still, his phone in his hand, furiously typing as he held the receipt.

“Ani?” You asked, reaching out for his elbow to prompt him to follow you.

“Just a sec.” He mumbled, eyebrows furrowed as he tongued his labret. “Sorry darlin’, all good to go. BoxLunch?” He asked, slipping his hand into your back pocket as he walked beside you in the direction of the shop.

“Uh, yeah.” You nodded, giving him a second glance that he must’ve picked up on because he gave you a ‘hmm?’ in response. “What was that?”

“What? Oh, I just needed to scan that receipt for the shop rewards or whatever.” He shrugged, his free hand coming up to scratch the side of his nose. “Had to do it before I forgot, gives me discounts n’ all that.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t even realize.” You said, leaning into him. “ Well I'm glad I didn’t toss it.” You chuckled, hearing him let out a humored puff of air.

“Me too,” he whispered, turning to press a soft kiss to your temple. “I would’ve hated to miss out on this week’s perk.”

“Oh?” You smirked, hearing the sarcasm in his words oozing out.

“Mhm,” pairing a short nod with a snicker, “shit’s killer.”

Diary Entry: October 11th

You know what I can’t fucking stand? Misjudging someone. I hate being wrong, especially when it comes to a person’s character. I’ve spent so long, so many hours watching, researching and practicing mannerisms and expressions. I’m practically an expert.

Or I thought I was an expert. Dead fucking wrong about Eric though. I even gave him the benefit of the doubt, thinking maybe it was truly just an accident. He seemed apologetic enough, but I regret not being able to see his face when he expressed his ‘apologies’.

I hadn’t ever looked into Eric before, I felt no reason to, he has always just been the hollow, depthless NPC type of person in my eyes. He didn’t exist outside of that record store, kind of like how when you’re a kid and you see your teacher out in public and you’re like ‘Oh my god? That's a real person with a life outside of the classroom?’.

Yeah, Eric was that. Until he used his grubby little hands to scrawl out his mother fucking phone number on my goddamn receipt and hand it to my fucking girlfriend. You were too stupid to even notice! Once again I’m asking myself how the hell did you survive this long without me around to protect you? He could’ve handed you a giant manilla envelope labeled ‘ANTHRAX’ in bright, bold letters and you’d have just bobbed your ditzy little head and tucked it under your arm.

It’s not your fault, don’t think i’m mad at you. I’m not, I’m just frustrated because Ghost has taught you better than that. I have taught you better than that. You should know to be more aware of your surroundings. But then again, that’s my fault too isn’t it?

While I’ve taught you that valuable lesson, I’ve also gone right ahead and deconstructed it for you too.

Because I love you. I care about you and I will always and forever do everything in my power to make sure you are as healthy and safe as humanly achievable. And because you are well aware of that fact, you become a small, frail, pocket mouse when I’m around. You know good and damn well that you don’t have to pay attention to a thing when I’m with you. You’re safely tucked in my pocket.

Both Ghost and I have made it so fucking easy for you to be at peace, while I’m so glad you feel so secure in my presence (and in my absence as we both know, Ghost is always there in some capacity) its also mildly irritating that you rely on me and my observation skills so much that you missed the red ink on the nearly translucent receipt. Like, come on baby. It was in your hand.

You’re so lucky. So lucky that I love you more than life itself. I’m so lucky to love you that much. Although it’s proven to be a right fuckin’ mess on the rare occasion, it’s all worth it. You’re worth it.

How many girls can say that their man would kill for them and mean it?

I’m back on my meds and feeling so much better, the busy little office guys in my head have reorganized all those filing cabinets. Not to brag, but I think they’ve really outdone themselves this time, I feel so put together. I think they may have even upgraded to a nice conveyor belt to avoid lugging all the unwanted files to The Pit. Isn’t that neat?

Or maybe I’m just more comfortable with myself now. After all, you do love me. Both of me. If I have the love of my very own goddess, why shouldn’t I accept more of myself? Even the undesirable bits. A dash of unconventionality is healthy. Everything is healthy in moderation.

It’s most definitely the latter, but it’s fun to think that those little office guys are putting in overtime, maybe even the janitor too.

I think I need a bit of fun, one last yeehaw before I finish this shit, you know? I thought maybe that I'd be done after those frat assholes. But it just wasn’t satisfying. Not like with the delivery guy. He was fun, those frat bros just made shit difficult and sucked the fun out of what was supposed to be a nice night with you and I'll never get over it. I still feel bad about it occasionally, poor girl. But, I'm just rambling so I’ll shut up about them.

So, like I said, one more. Last time, I promise. Then it’ll just be me and you alright? I swear. I’ll bury Ghost with this, I’ll combine the best bits of me and him and get rid of the rest. Taking out the trash as I take out some trash.

—------------------------

Diary Entry: cont.

I cannot believe how shit the security at the mall is. That Paul Blart looking ass doesn’t even have a taser or anyone else to help him. It took me three minutes to make my way into the security office, checkout camera feeds and video the entire room to look over again later, then get out and back to you before you even realized I wasn’t in that Lunchbox place. By the way, that’s my new favorite things and stuff store. Back to business, there’s only one working CCTV camera in the record store and it doesn’t stream a live video, it takes pictures every thirty seconds and my phone is now set to alert me of that (for later I have it silenced for now).

I have the whole store memorized by now anyway so I don’t have to worry about that. Plus I know that Eric never fucking locks the back entrance, all i have to worry about on that matter is that the CCTV outside actually does work and streams a live video. But I’ve got a plan, not to worry.

Date: October 12th

“You gonna come over when you get off?” Anakin asked, dropping you off at The Bluebird. “I can come pick you up, I really don’t like it when you walk home in the dark sweetheart. Makes me nervous.”

“Why don’t we go to my place after?” Eyes flicking up to look at his furrowed eyebrows. “Boogs gets sad when I don’t stay home.”

“Alright, I can do that baby.” He nodded with a soft smile. “Maybe I can go sit with her while you’re workin’.” He offered with a shrug.

“Oh, yeah I’m sure she’d love that. Just… The kitchen is a mess right now so-”

“Don’t fret, I’ll get it.” He cut you off with a chuckle, walking with you up to the doors of the restaurant.

“No, don’t do that.” You shook your head, turning to face him with a hand on his chest. “I’ll get it when I come home.”

“It’ll be late and I’ll be there with nothin’ to do.” Anakin insisted, giving you a raised eyebrow as if to say he would do it regardless of your wishes.

“I’ve made a big wreck of the kitchen. I- the dishes have all piled up so quick.” You said, shaking your head again with a slight frown. “I’ll do ‘em.”

“Hush, I’ll do it-” Anakin started, seeing you open your mouth to interrupt him he paused and curled up the corner of his mouth disapprovingly. “Thank you, that’s much better.” He chuckled, leaning against the side of the building when you sighed, admitting defeat and letting him take over the chore that had suddenly become so daunting.

“Yeah, yeah.” You mumbled, smiling slightly even as you did.

“Good girl, that’s more like it.” He grinned, pulling you into his chest for a tight squeeze. “I’ll take care of all the scary dishes, don’t worry.” He teased.

“Doing the dishes is just so gross.” You complained, “I was doing so good at keeping it picked up, I guess it just got out of hand. I hate touching food bits.”

“Got out of hand, hmm?” He snickered, kissing the top of your head. “No big deal, I’ll reign it in for you. Maybe get all the dust and cat hair while I’m at it.”

“Hey!” You huffed, trying to pull back so you could chide him to his face, but he kept you held against him as his chest rumbled with a laugh. “Not my fault, I just don’t vacuum as much as… well I just need to clean more I guess.” You sighed, not realizing how much you’d fallen behind until having this conversation.

Ghost had been keeping things tidy for so long and now that he’d stopped it was as if you had completely forgotten how to take care of the place on your own. You’d gotten used to only being tasked with your laundry and the occasional few dishes. Only vacuuming once a week and mopping even less. It was astonishing really, seeing how quickly your daily life had begun to unravel without him.

You were honestly shocked that Anakin hadn’t keeled over last time he was at your apartment, you’d been staying over at his rather than yours. Even on nights that he worked. You didn’t like being alone in your own home anymore, it felt all wrong, uncomfortable. Unsafe. There wasn’t someone watching over you every hour of every day anymore and it left you feeling vulnerable. Yeah of course he still looked out for you, you knew that. You knew he had audio access to your phone, but it wasn’t the same, it felt so… impersonal.

You didn’t catch the smirk on Anakin’s lips while you spoke, too caught up in your own thoughts. He was enjoying seeing you realize how much you’d come to rely on Ghost. He was happy to step in and take over that role as himself, he had always helped out, just not to the extent that Ghost did.

“Vigo has been eyeing you ever since we came up to the door.” Anakin tipped his head toward the kitchen where you could see Vigo peeking around the corner. “If you don’t get in there soon he might blow a gasket.” He snickered.

“He’ll be just fine.” You snorted, leaning in close to plant a sweet kiss to his cheek, he turned his head to give you his other cheek for the same. “I love you.”

“God, you don’t know how good it feels to hear that from those pretty lips,” He sighed, beaming brightly at you as he brought you closer. “Give ‘em to me.” He teased, giving you a soft and tender kiss, his hand tucking you hair behind your ear as he did.

“I love you too darlin’.” He hummed against your lips, releasing you with a little swat to your ass to get you moving toward the main entrance. He watched through the window to ensure you made it back to the kitchen to clock-in before he pushed off the wall and strolled back over to his car.

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

October 12th 5:54pm

Anakin had the perfect amount of time to enact his plan. Thanks to his newly revisited obsession with pre-planning and prepping for his actions, he’d devised a fool proof way to make his entrance and exit into the mall nearly undetectable. He’d even solidified the perfect way to get a concrete alibi, complete with photo evidence and time stamps.

He was on camera at 5:27pm in front of The Bluebird, having a cutesy goodbye with his sweet, innocent girlfriend. He drove the regular route back to the apartments, stopping at the gas station for cigarettes and gum, paying with his card and making sure to store his receipt in his wallet, then he continued home. He rarely used the sidewalk beside the parking lot, usually opting to weave through the parked cars until he reached the front doors, though this time he seized the opportunity to be seen on camera again. The lamppost outside the parking lot, which had been recently updated to included CCTV picture, would snap a photo of him doing his duty as a civilian to pick up a stray piece of trash that a no-good litterbug had dropped and tossed it in the trashcan near the lamppost.

He’d been so careful in the past and it had always worked out for the best, so he was more careful this time, taking mental note of the back roads to the mall, luckily it wasn’t too far, he could walk there and stay relatively out of sight. Win-win kind of situation in his opinion. So Anakin made his way up to his apartment instead of yours and quickly got changed into his self imposed criminal activity uniform. All black everything. The same clothes he used to play Ghost, sans mask of course. He can’t go traipsing about the city in the afternoon like that, he’d be spotted within seconds.

Anakin stood in the bathroom, taking out all of his facial piercings, as well as removing his gauges and other earrings. He planned to leave his phone in your apartment along with the Tv playing something on Netflix, should it come down to anything serious and he might need to prove himself. That gives him 90 minutes before Netflix gives the ‘Still Watching?’ notification, hopefully, plenty of time to do what he needed to and return. If not he had around 30 minutes before the Tv shut itself off because the remote hadn’t been touched. It’s easy enough to say he fell asleep, the poor guy is a bartender, he takes a little nap whenever he can. Working nights is rough stuff.

He’ll have his alibi back on track when he goes to pick you up after all, he’ll even drive through your favorite take-out place and make sure to pay with his card. He can prove his whereabouts and take care of his hungry girl at the same time.

After grabbing his bag, he set up your apartment as it should be, returning to his quickly to hurry on with his plan. Anakin slipped out his living room window and left down the fire escape, making the trek on foot to the mall via his pre-ran route. Keeping his head down, his empty phone case in his hand to appear busy as he passed a few people on the sidewalk. Making a speedy right turn into the alley between two office buildings, jay-walking across the street when he came out the other side.

He kept an eye on his watch, making sure he was well within the timeframe he’d given himself. Finally arriving at the mall he swung wide, staying out of the 100 foot radius of the high-positioned CCTV cameras outside the mall, perched atop the corners of the buildings. They were pointed to conjoin and overlap in the middle of the back parking lot. Unfortunately that made his life a little harder and he had to do a little more math.

His research and his calculator proved pertinent in his carefully determined path to the staff entrance of Revival Records. Providing him an almost eight foot wide straight line of a blind spot if he were to come in toward the middle of the building’s left side, exactly what he was doing at that very moment. Tucking himself against the brick wall, he made his way through the blind pathway beneath the cameras along the side and back of the building. Skipping one, two, three, and stopping at the fourth, thick metal door.

He took a deep, calming breath as he pulled up his hood. Then tied his bandana securely around his face, tugging it until it sat just beneath his eyes. Anakin checked his hoodie pocket, taking his knife from it and placing it beneath his bandana, biting down on the silicone covered handles so he could easily use both his hands, then pulled the can of black spray paint from the side pocket meant for water bottles on his bag.

Prepared and mostly confident in his ability to spray the camera lens positioned next to the door that had a perfect view down the service hall without looking, he tugged on the door handle, a sense of relief washing over him when it turned and opened easily.

Shoving his arm in through the cracked door he angled the can upwards, pressing down on the nozzle and smiling when he heard the aerosol can hiss. He covered his eyes and peeked through his hands, not wanting to look directly into the camera–-cameras if he’d missed it completely. Thankfully he checked and saw that there were two, side by side and pointed in opposite directions.

He huffed and sprayed the left corner lens to make sure it was covered as well, only part of the lens was obscured from his original paint job. After surveying the hall and determining the other cameras in the hall would be pretty much useless considering they were so far away, and angled straight down the hall. He figured there was a reason they had the double camera in the middle of the hall like that, the other two must not reach that far.

He crossed the hall in one long step, carefully and quietly opening the second door in front of him. This one would lead directly into the storage room, which housed the very tiny office and staff bathroom as well. The sound of Bolt Thrower filled the space, playing as background noise while his target cleaned and closed up shop for the night.

Anakin could do this quick and easy if he wanted. The breaker box was right there on the wall, just within reach. It’d be easy enough to pop it open and flip off all the lights to lure him right where he needed him. A nice clean slice of his throat from behind… But that was too easy. If this was to be his very last, he wanted it to be his very best.

So instead, he grabbed the key ring off the hook beside the office door, flipping through them and inspecting the labels. He turned and flicked the lock closed on the hall door. Entering the office he looked over the various items. His eyes pausing over the computer screen where he could see the employee registry, shipment details… he could just stay right there and wreck Eric’s life just by using this information. He could tap into his boss’s social security account, steal the banking information from whoever the hell Amanda was, then slip right back out. No one would know or even suspect him. It’d be the stupid little toad he’d come to visit who’d get shipped off to federal prison.

He licked his lips, shaking his head with a scoff. Returning to his plan, he went ahead and pulled the phone jack from the wall and disconnected the emergency button that would notify security if pushed. Then, he found the right key to lock the office door, just as a precaution. Maybe Eric would be slimy enough to slip through his fingers, but he was really only doing it for peace of mind, checking off his mental to-do list. He knew he didn’t have a damn thing to worry about.

He moved carefully to avoid the boxes and various crap laying about the floor, silently thinking of the monstrous lawsuit that waited for Revival Records if their next hire slips and breaks their back on some of that slick packaging plastic. He shook his head, reminding himself to focus because this needed to be perfect, so perfect. Near impossibly perfect for it to work. As he reached the inner door, his final one before facing his acquaintance turned enemy, he cracked it open and peeked inside, watching Eric close the cage and lock it down at the front of the store.

Anakin’s ‘ugly’ analog watch was coming in handy as it ticked rhythmically, every thirty seconds. It took a few tries but he finally synced it perfectly with the pattern of the store camera’s timed pictures. He’d clicked those two tiny knobs so many times that he’d considered going out to the store just to buy a new watch just for this, but his old one had never failed him before. Cliegg always said something about ‘never changing your technique’ before a big game when Anakin had briefly entertained his stepdad’s wish for him to join the delinquent school’s baseball team after he’d enjoyed it during summer camp.

This might not be baseball, but it required a refined technique, so he assumed the sentiment translated.

He crouched, watching Eric saunter back and forth through the store, reorganizing the shelves and doing some very poor cleaning. Not only was he protecting you, he was keeping disease off the streets as far as he was concerned. After a few more agonizing minutes of watching him play janitor, finally he made his way behind the counter. Time for him to count the cash drawer, time for Anakin to make his move.

Hugging the wall, Anakin moved slowly, keeping low to the ground, pulling out his butterfly knife and flicking it open loudly, the handles clanking together as he spun it in his hand. Eric whipped his head around, not seeing anything, he assumed it was just the store settling, maybe one of the employees from the neighboring stores making a bit of noise.

Anakin rose from behind one of the displays, keeping in line with the very edge of the shelving unit that stored all the newest releases. He would be out of sight from the camera and close enough to the counter to properly intimidate Eric. The store was very poorly planned out, save from that one unit. It made sense to keep the new releases near the register to deter theft.

Just a shame for them that Anakin was using the layout for something far worse than simple theft.

Using his knife blade, he tapped the shelf beside him, making a sharp metallic *ping ping ping*, that caught Eric’s attention. He turned his music down, as if he were trying to hear it more clearly. So Anakin repeated the motion, grinning behind his bandana as Eric started to slowly turn around.

“Stay.” His voice stern and commanding. “Don’t turn around.”

“I’ll call the cops.” Eric said, trying to fight his curiosity to peek over his shoulder, lifting his hands slowly.

“Put your hands down. Keep doing your job.” Anakin said harshly, his tone cold. “I won’t hurt you. I just want you to listen to me. Very carefully.”

“Y’know there’s a Zales just a few doors down. Y-you’ll get better shit there man.” Eric said shakily, returning to his calculator and recording receipts.

“You don’t think I’d be stupid enough to rob a record shop if I was only after money, do you?” Anakin snarked. “I’m right where I’m supposed to be.”

“If you don’t want money, what do you want?” Eric squeaked, wetting his lips nervously.

“I want you to take a little break. Have a seat.” Anakin said, leaning against the shelving unit and crossing his arms over his chest.

He watched as Eric blindly reached behind him and pulled the stool up. Sitting slowly like he was worried it might be some sort of trap. It was. Eric got out the key from the drawer beneath the counter, unlocking the register and rapidly tapping the emergency button hidden just under the lip of the formica tabletop. Nothing happened, no red light flashed beneath his fingers and no beep was heard.

“Too bad.” Anakin sucked his teeth. “I bet Paul Blart could’ve used the exercise.” *Tick*

“Feet up on the rest there buddy.” Anakin shrugged off his backpack and grabbed a package of saran wrap and a roll of duct tape. Unrolling and ripping off a good size of saran wrap, he waited.

*Tick*. He stepped forward and wrapped the plastic around his lower legs and feet. Anakin stayed kneeling, his leather gloves sticking to the adhesive as he picked at the tail end of it, the *Scrrriipt* of him pulling out a nice length of tape made Eric wince.

“What are you doing?” He asked quietly, Anakin could practically smell the fear coming off him and it made him feel… annoyed.

“Introducing you to my second favorite hobby.” Anakin sneered back, before duct-taping his feet and legs to the stool, over the saran wrap.

“Take off your jacket.” Anakin demanded, staying crouched down as Eric awkwardly unzipped his jacket and tossed it on the counter. *Tick*. “Hands on the counter.”

“Listen, I can help you out.” Eric pleaded, laying his hands flat on the counter. Anakin rolled his eyes as he saran wrapped and taped his wrists together, shoving them into Eric’s lap. If only he had a dollar for every time someone tried to use this trick on him he would have enough to buy you a Venti Cold Brew from Starbies on his way back home.

“All I need you to do, is shut the fuck up and be still.” Anakin grunted, pulling out another long length of tape and a roll of garbage bags from his backpack, *Tick*, he secured the plastic to the floor, wrapping the chair legs in saran wrap, as well as Eric’s thighs, then waited for another *Tick*.

“Who are you?” Eric asked, attempting to look down but Anakin’s hand shot up and smacked him for interrupting his task of taping his arms to his torso. “Ow! Fuck, I’m sorry.”

“You don’t recognize me?” He asked, faking a pouty voice. “C’mon you know me Ferdinand. Thought we were pals.”

“Fer-Ferdinand? Anakin?” He gasped, *Tick*.

“Can you just sit still please? Be quiet.” Anakin huffed, jabbing him in the side with a fist.

“What the hell are you doing man? What the fuck?” Eric squeaked, suddenly even more freaked out now that he knew his attacker.

“I tried to give you the benefit of the doubt Ferdie.” Anakin sighed, grabbing some brand new, dollar store microfiber towels and setting them on the ground, *Tick*, Anakin reached for his bag again when Eric turned and yanked at his hood.

“Touch me again. I’ll cut off your hand and shove it up your ass.” He growled, springing up into a standing position and fixing his hood. Anakin took a calming breath and shoved one of the microfiber towels into Eric’s mouth before crouching down again. *Tick*.

Anakin moved a few random items on the counter and shifted Eric in the chair, then returned to kneeling as he cut strips off one of the microfiber towels, slicing them up smaller and wadding them up. *Tick*.

“Quit fuckin’ around. You’re making this difficult.” Anakin grumbled, rising up to grab his large septum ring and hold him steady so he could stick those microfiber wads in his nostrils, dropping to the ground again for the next *Tick*.

He rose again slowly and stood in front of the mostly helpless man, anchoring the chair in place with his foot on one of the rungs, he reared back and punched Eric square in the face, then dropped to the ground, holding his wrists down so he couldn’t try to instinctively bring them up to his face. *Tick*.

“Man, that’s my favorite way to make sure no one can hear a pig like you squeal.” Anakin smiled.

As Eric groaned, Anakin’s grin grew, enjoying the fact that his gag was effective. Although he was unsure if he’d actually punched him hard enough to break his nose, so after the next *Tick* he did it again, snickering when he heard and felt the cartilage crunch. Eric tried to suck in a breath, his eyes welling up with tears from the pain as the microfiber towels soaked up the blood that spurted from his nose. Only a trickle or two escaped down his lip, no problem, Anakin didn’t care, he’d clean it up.

“So, you’re probably wondering why I’m doing this.” Anakin sighed, sitting crosslegged in front of the stool, staring up at the man before him. “I love a good villain speech. But you’re no hero and I didn’t plan on letting you trample around the room while I beat you to a pulp, so I didn’t prepare one.”

“If you don’t mind, I’ll just give you the short and sweet.” Anakin tilted his head to the side, excitement flashing across his eyes as he pulled the bandana down to bare his beaming smile to Eric. “Well?” He prompted, smacking his leg and getting a nod in agreement along with panicked eyes. “Good, long and detailed it is.” He chuckled.

“I love my girlfriend, she is just… man I almost feel bad for you. You’ll never experience a love so pure.” Anakin said, feigning wistfulness. “Not that you’d be lucky enough to coerce a girl into loving you anyway, even if I did let you live.” He shrugged, laughing to himself.

“Nope, you’re shit when it comes to that aren’t you?” He smiled. “So shit that you decided to give my girlfriend your phone number, on the receipt for items that I paid for, after I so graciously gave you a bit of leeway for your ‘Oopsie I didn’t know she was yours’ flirt.” Anakin’s face dropped, the smile wiped from his expression.

“I’ve killed for less.” Anakin said flatly.

“You’re gonna be my last.” Anakin said, curving up the corner of his mouth but leaving the rest of his face unsettlingly expressionless. “So take pride in knowing that you will be my best work.”

“The police around here are shit.” Anakin shrugged, “They’ll be trying to figure this out for years.” Anakin grinned, *Tick*.

Anakin hummed along to the music still playing quietly through the speakers while he moved Eric’s chair to make him face the wall with his back to the camera and moved the mouse on the computer to prove Eric was still ‘active’. Then remembered he needed to move a few things on the counter again after the *Tick*.

“Remember when I said this was my second favorite hobby?” Anakin asked, not expecting an answer. “My favorite is fucking my beautiful girl.”

“Something you will never, ever have the privilege of thinking about doing again.” Anakin sneered. “The way you looked at her made my skin crawl. You’re creepy, you know that? That’s why you’re alone.”

“I could see it in those shifty, beady eyes of yours Ferdie. You were thinking of all the ways you’d like to get her beneath you.” Anakin’s face grew red, the vein in his forehead beginning to thump against his skull.

“Disgusting.” He spat, taking off one leather glove and shoving his left hand down into a surgical grade glove. *Tick*.

“This is gonna hurt.” Anakin stood, gripping Eric’s skinny neck tightly as he dug his nitrile covered fingers beneath his left eye lid and and pulled, kneeling again as he shoved Eric over, letting him fall while keeping a grip on the slippery organ in his palm. He grinned down at him, dangling the eye over his face by the stalk.

“So, I’ve heard you can still see for a second, as long as the stalk is still attached to the eye socket. Is it true?” Anakin asked, plucking it out, severing the connection as easily as one might pop a grape off the vine. “Simple yes or no.” He asked, an exasperated look on his face when Eric wriggled and fought against his bindings, sobbing, trying to multitask remembering to breathe and trying to get away.

“God, why is it that people are so fucking useless?” Anakin grumbled, smacking him across the face to shock him into paying attention. “Could you see or not?” A small shake of Eric’s head gave Anakin his disappointing answer, then he promptly passed out.

“Well that’s no fun.” Anakin huffed, shoving a microfiber towel into the eye socket to staunch the bleeding while he went ahead and scooped out the other eye, repeating the process before dropping the eyes into a ziploc bag for later.

“Arts and crafts aren’t meant to be done alone.” He snickered to himself as he prepared his neck task, wrenching out each of Eric’s teeth. Literally.

With an old wrench he stole from someone’s work truck, he pulled the entire top row of teeth while Eric flitted in and out of consciousness, his victim only managing to moan and cough from the saliva and blood soaking the towel shoved into his throat. Anakin tied the teeth together with floss and sat it aside for later, needing to sit Eric upright for a few *Ticks* and move a few things.

He propped Eric up by duct taping a broom to the backless stool and resting his back against it while he wiped down the wrench with alcohol and lysol wipes. Placing it on the counter in plain view of the camera before removing it again.

“You are no fun.” Anakin grunted, pulling Eric back down to the ground. “I’ve never had someone stay passed out like this. You might as well be dead already.”

Anakin hummed to himself, pursing his lips together in thought. Thinking on his feet, Anakin needed to change his plan. He hadn’t expected Eric to be so weak that he’d be unconscious for the entire time. It put a damper on his original plan but he thought up something just as good. All he needed was something tube like.

After taking off his gloves and changing into a fresh pair, he dug through a few drawers until he found just the thing he needed. A marker. Popping off the lid, Anakin made the hole at the top of the lid a bit bigger with his knife, then pried open Eric’s mouth, pulled out the wadded, blood soaked towel and shoved his fingers down his throat.

Feeling around for the right flap of skin before finding it, the epiglottis. He grimaced, feeling Eric choke and gag around his fingers, before quickly removing them and trying not to gag as well. He shivered, rolled his shoulders and got back to work by quickly shoving the marker cap beneath it, effectively propping open the airway. Keeping Eric flat on his back, Anakin took a pair of scissors from the same drawer and grabbed the tip of his tongue, cutting through the thick muscle and mutilating the floor of his mouth as best he could. Performing a purposely sloppy Glossectomy.

Eric roused as the steel blade sliced into the tender muscle of his tongue. Anakin pinched the tip of his tongue harder, making sure to keep hold of it as Eric instinctively bit down, accidentally biting his own tongue.

“I swear to god if you bite your tongue off before I cut it…” Anakin grumbled, having a mental flashback of the blubbering idiot at the lake house.

Eric tried to scream, but the marker cap in his throat pressed against the top of his vocal cords, lodged in place in a painful way, the pressure only allowing a pathetic squeak to eek out. Anakin smiled down at him, scrunching up his nose as he laughed.

“Try it again.” He taunted and was pleasantly surprised that Eric indulged him. He desperately tried to make noise, but it was muted, sounding far away and scratchy despite their close proximity.

“Aw, too bad.” He shook his head, looking down at Eric for a moment. The emotion devoid in his eyes as he had to adapt his plan to fit the circumstances once again.

He huffed and resigned himself to the easiest choice, continuing with his previous modified plan. He didn’t want to fish around in his throat while he was conscious, Anakin liked having all ten of his fingers. So he pinched the bridge of Eric’s broken nose, pressing down on it and watching as more blood oozed down into the wadded up towel pieces.

He was equally delighted to realize the muscles in the empty eye sockets were twitching beneath the towels as though the eyes were still in place, like Eric’s tiny brain hadn’t realized it couldn’t roll those eyes back in pain. Anakin pressed harder until the panicked, whistling of his victim’s breath through the marker cap evened out. Now that he was unresponsive again, Anakin was free to continue his work.

The mouth bleeds a lot and Anakin had always wanted to kill someone using only internal injuries. The lungs only need about half a cup of liquid to cause drowning, the body has around five liters of blood and the average pair of human lungs can hold six liters of fluid. No matter what, Eric was going to die and Anakin was thrilled that not a drop of that crimson liquid would be misplaced. Save for what he’d already spilled, technically still contained via three microfiber cleaning cloths, and the little bit he’d gotten on the trash bags and gloves.

He clamped Eric's mouth shut, leaving the fully dismembered tongue inside the mouth. Ripping off a new piece of tape, Anakin temporarily held his mouth closed with it while he super glued his lips together. He scooted back, watching him seize and convulse. Getting a sick satisfaction from watching the struggle, Eric was already unconscious, so it was more like a slug being salted, rather than a fish flopping on dry land. A bit anticlimactic but the end result would be worth the lackluster performance.

It didn’t take too long for it all to stop, Eric was now just another inanimate object in the room. An inanimate object that was very uncooperative while Anakin tried to put his jacket back on after cutting off the bindings on his wrists.

Anakin got out a new trash bag and began the clean up process, starting with clean gloves before pulling out the towels from the bloodied eye sockets and super gluing the eyelids closed. He couldn’t help but laugh at how odd it looked. Strangely full mouth and awkwardly empty eyes. After letting himself have a giggle, he started wiping down the corpse’s paling skin with an alcohol wipe, getting every last speck of blood and then doing it all over again with a lysol wipe just to be sure he’d gotten it all. Then he went about peeling up the spattered plastic he’d taped to the ground.

*Tick*. Anakin hefted the limp body back into an upright position on the stool, pushing him up to the corner of the counter before he cut off the saran wrap and tape, leaving him sitting slumped somewhat naturally against the counter, his head propped up on his hand. Anakin stood, quickly tying on Eric’s brand new bracelet, then dropping back to the ground before the next *Tick*.

He surveyed the area over and over again, striving for absolute perfection with his clean up and his staging. He felt the need to make up for the chaos of the last scene he’d caused. At least with the physical aspect of it all. The mental gymnastics the cops would be doing would be more than enough chaos for Anakin to enjoy for years. With a satisfied smile, Anakin repositioned his bandana and zipped up his bag for the last time.

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October 12th 8:56pm

Now that Anakin had showered, put his jewelry back in, disposed of anything incriminating and changed into suitable clothes, he went about your apartment, shutting off the Tv and giving the cat a quick pat on the head before retrieving his phone from the kitchen counter. Clicking it on he was surprised to see that he had a text from you. But it wasn’t for him.

He sighed, contemplating his options before he shoved his phone back into his pocket. He would have time to think about that later, right now he needed to get down to the Bluebird to pick up his girl. He jogged down the steps of the apartment building and strolled out into the parking lot, he noticed someone standing near his car as he approached it. With it being so dark, he wasn’t sure if it was a man or a woman, nor was he certain of what they were doing.

“Hey.” He barked, watching the person straighten up in surprise. “What are you doing?”

“Is… is this your car?” A girl’s voice asked nervously.

Anakin turned on his phone flashlight and shined it over toward the young woman, taking in her appearance. He hung back, wondering if he should just walk away. He didn’t like being questioned like this, especially right after what he’d done.

“Yeah, sure is.” He nodded, his voice casual enough to convey innocence.

“I’m really, really sorry.” She said quietly, looking like she was on the verge of tears.

“You okay?” He asked cautiously, taking a slow step backward.

“I’m okay, sorry.” She sniffled. “Um, it's just… I really fucked up the side of your car.”

“Oh,” Anakin chuckled, trying not to sound as relieved as he felt. “you’re okay though?” He asked again.

“Yeah I’m okay. I just dinged the bumper of my car.” She said, thumbing over her shoulder at the red SUV behind her.

“Alright, as long as you didn’t hurt yourself.” Anakin said, moving closer and peeking around the end of his car to see the damage.

“Uh, can you turn on your flashlight too?” He asked, not feeling very comfortable being alone in a dark parking lot with a strange female.

“Oh, that's not so bad.” He shook his head, assessing the side of his car. The paint was scraped and there was an obvious dent in the back door but it was only cosmetic. “Let’s see yours.”

He tipped his chin toward her vehicle and snorted, shaking his head. Her car barely had a scratch on it, just a bit of his car’s paint had transferred onto the chrome bumper, and there was a small dent, much less severe than the poor kid had made it out to be.

“I thought you were about to show me a fuckin’ hole in the door.” He laughed, flicking his eyes over to the younger girl. “It’s no big deal hon’. What’s your name?”

“Lacey Diggins.” She said, sticking out her hand for him to shake.

“Alright Lacey, I’m Anakin Skywalker. You live here or something?” He asked while taking a mental note of her name, gesturing toward the apartment building as he fished out his keys from his hoodie pocket to jangle in his hands while he talked.

“No, I’m just here visiting.” She shook her head, shifting on her feet. “I’ve never been in a car accident before, what exactly am I supposed to do, since it’s my fault?”

“Is this your car or your parents?” He asked, recognizing that she must’ve been highschool age.

“My mom’s, she’s gonna be so pissed at me.” She let out a humorless laugh, wiping beneath her eyes. “You know car insurance is more expensive for red cars? Now it’ll go up even more.”

“No it won’t.” He shook his head. “Look… that’s barely noticeable, don’t get all worked up. I can get my car fixed pretty cheap, I know a guy.” Anakin brushed it off casually, knowing that it could easily be fixed in the matter of a day or two.

“But-” She started to speak but Anakin cut her off.

“Go to the dollar store, grab some WD-40 and some magic erasers.” Anakin said dismissively as he pulled a twenty dollar bill from his wallet. “Spray some on the bumper and scrub it off, they’ll never know. As for the dent… I wouldn’t worry about it, I doubt your mom will notice. Let her think someone at the grocery store did it.” He snorted.

“What about your car?” She squeaked, unsure as to why he was trying to hand her some cash.

“Don’t worry about it. It’s not like you backed into it on purpose right?” He asked with a smirk.

“Well, no of course not.” She shook her head, “What’s that for?” She asked confusedly as Anakin shoved the twenty dollar bill into her palm.

“Alright, then.” He shrugged, patting her shoulder. “That’s for your clean up stuff.” Anakin said plainly as he walked around to the drivers side of his car and unlocked it.

“No, no it’s alright.” She insisted, trying to give it back to him. “This is all my fault, y-you’re being like way too nice about this.”

“Would you rather me be angry?” He asked with a laugh, shoving his hands in his pockets to discourage her from trying to give the money back. “It’s twenty bucks. You’re just a kid and I’m not the kinda guy who gets mad over little stuff like this. All that matters is you’re not hurt and you did the right thing by telling me what happened.”

“Well, be careful alright? I gotta go get my girlfriend.” Anakin said, giving Lacey a curt nod before getting in his car and starting it up.

As he pulled away from his parking space he watched as the girl walked into the apartment building through his rearview mirror. He clicked his tongue, smiling to himself as he hit the road on his way to pick you up. How convenient that he’d managed to get in a little good deed after the mess he’d made earlier. He knew something like this could really work in his favor, not only to corroborate his timeline just incase he might need to do so. But he doubted he would. After all, how could such a nice guy do something so… heinous.

TWENTY

Tag-List:

@tsugumiholic @kingdomhate @burnthecheshirewitch @exquisitcorpse @arzua10 @bby-imasociopath @depressed-kay y @aliciaasky @naty-1001 @mrsmikaelsxn @bunnylovesani @ausskywalker @angelsadmired @slut4starwars @chocolatepalacecloudhoagie @starkiller419 @hearts4mitski4 @lethargic @allhailbuckybarnes-blog @shadowhuntyi @mortalheartache @fallinlovewithevil @sythethecarrot @chaoticantihero @vadersslut @luvvfromme @sweetcheesecakesblog @luvskywxlker @angelsadmired @kaminokatie @anakin-pilled @graveyard-stray @chiaraanatra @jediavengers @zapernz @salted-snailz @queenofchaos99 @ellie-luvsfics @dazednstars141 @hopesworld @lonaah @guiltycherries @syralix @demieyesore @hemmoxloser @ahano @astarionsgirl @popcosmi @purriteen @honestlyatotalloser

THE TAGS LIST IS FULL! But if you want to be tagged I will comment ur username for you. Love you all so many.

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shadowed-dancer · 10 months ago

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Villains and Their Fates - A Tragedy Would Have Been Fine By Me

I've seen a lot of people who try to write off frustration with the league's fates by saying "you just wanted them to survive" or "you're just upset your favourite character died". And while that may be true for a few people, I know that it's at least not true for myself (which must mean there are others who feel the same way). So today I'm here to share my thoughts. Despite liking the villains and wanting them to be redeemed, I was also willing to accept a well written ending if they died. I just wanted to ramble a bit about the three main villains (mostly Toga) and how I felt a tragic ending could have been improved.

The only villain I felt should have lived is Dabi, but that's more because of the awkwardness his unconfirmed death caused for Shoto (read this beautifully written analysis for more). If Dabi had to die, he should have died on the battle field OR in the hospital surrounded by family where he gets a few last words in. Leaving his fate unconfirmed leads to the ruined Shoto arc, but is also just weird for a character who has existed for so long. You're telling me that even Overhaul gets a confirmed ending but DABI doesn't?

I've also talked a bit about how Endeavor's survival ruins the subplot, and in 426 he continues by making Touya's final appearance about him (rather than the two brothers) but that's something I've talked about too much. If Endeavor has to be alive and hogging screen time, the least Hori could do is imply Touya will survive rather than die, so at least Enji isn't literally stealing time from his other family members to have some interaction with Touya.

If Touya has to end up in that machine, an ideal ending would have been the doctor saying "it will be a gruelling and near-impossible uphill climb to recovery" and then Shoto can smile and say "he's done it before". Boom. Simple as that. Leave it open, but at least on a positive note so we can assume that the family will have plenty of time to reconcile, as opposed to an unknown (but limited) amount of time that Enji vows to use to talk to him (yeah I know it's supposed to be a sweet gesture but even Touya calls bullshit on it). Let Shoto and Touya eat their soba, damn it!

For Shigaraki, my grievances extend to the writing of the entire final battle between him and Deku. As such, I don't have much to say aside from that because it really is just a product of poor writing. Neither were really allowed to talk before the big moment (hell, the vestiges were narrating Deku's emotions half the time like "he must be upset, this quirk meant so much to him". Why not let him tell us???) and the back-and-forth of Shigaraki being destroyed and then not only to be destroyed again was too much. It felt sloppy and hard to follow, and once you figured it out it just felt dumb. It's as if each chapter needed some massive reveal, but the story had done it so much at this point that it just felt tired and like it was happening "because Hori said so", and that should never be what drives a story.

Speaking of "because Hori said so"...

Oh Toga. Out of all the villains, I actually liked her confrontation the most. (Lies. If Dabi vs Shoto was the end of Dabi's fight, THAT would have been the best. But the Endeavor fight ruins it). Despite having limited screen time, Toga and Uraraka had a surprisingly well-built dynamic. Their few interactions were actually meaningful and created a strong foundation for a fight, and at the very least they had more of a personal connection than Deku and Shigaraki ever did. I think that Toga giving her blood to someone she loves (as opposed to drinking/taking their blood like she had said the whole series) is a beautifully tragic end to her character, but still something that could have fit.

To me, the problem comes with how she died. Let me replay the scene for you: Toga stabs Uraraka in the stomach and Uraraka bleeds too much because she keeps moving around. Toga then realizes she doesn't want Uraraka to die. To save her life, Toga has to do a blood transfusion with herself as a donor and she dies because she has to give ALL her blood.

Now... sure. Ok. Fine. Yeah. Maybe by real-world logic this makes sense. I guess. Whatever. But within the world of MHA, this setup is laughable.

Here's a list of things characters survived (or at least, they survived LONG ENOUGH to get to a hospital rather than dying on the battlefield): Deku shattering his bones with 1 million percent, whatever happened to Best Jeanist when AFO attacked him, Nighteye getting a massive spike through the torso, All Might with "his entrails strewn across the ground", Bakugo becoming Swiss cheese, Grand Torino being punched so hard a crater forms beneath him, Touya being a literal flaming skeleton, Bakugo's heart exploding, Edgeshot becoming a worm. Mirko getting a limb ripped off and then running full speed at Shigaraki. That's just off the top of my head, I know there's probably more.

But you want to tell me that Uraraka getting stabbed and then moving was a fatal wound that required ALL TOGA'S BLOOD? ALL OF IT? The reason Toga's death bothers me is that the setup cheapens the actual moment of sacrifice. It feels preventable, so when she tells us that Uraraka is going to die without her blood, all I could do is roll my eyes because I'm not allowed to use critical thinking skills, I have to just accept what Hori says and take it at face value.

If the author wants you to live as Edgeworm despite saying you were gonna die, you can. But if the author needs a stab wound to be fatal and require ALL of someone's blood? Well tough luck bud, that's just how it goes. Mirko can run and move all she wants after having a limb ripped off, but moving a bit after one stab wound is fatal. Why? Because I say so.

If Uraraka's wound was actually serious then this ending would have been a beautiful tragedy. But as it stands now, the ridiculousness of her wound makes it all feel preventable.

Oh, there's also the fact that Toga switching blood types when she transforms was never established, but I've rambled enough.

That's it. Thanks for reading!

#bnha #bnha spoilers #bnha 430 #bnha meta #toga himiko #shigaraki tomura #touya todoroki #dabi

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milessunflowers · 4 months ago

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Part 2 though would you be adverse to writing the media's reaction?

And maybe the other drivers learn of their relatioship and their like 'is that all it took to get you two to stop pining after each other!?!? Should have just called the guy smh'. I'd find it even funnier if perrie (is that how its spelled?) Is just done with charles pining after both of them cause he's the one charles goes to with his woe is me bullshit, feel like max would have lando as his like 'gossip about my crushes' person and he's just done with him too.

Sorry if you don't do part two's, also awesome story love it so much.

–🍑

i can absolutely do a pt 2 peach!!

max verstappen x male!reader x charles leclerc

synopsis: it only took a few weeks for your relationship to make it to the public eye, mainly because your boyfriends can't stop yapping.

author's note: peach, i am kind of obsessed with this lestappen x male reader ideas because it's just like 😍 i have no words. it so funny and entertaining to me (trust there is dialogue in this one fr!). like always, feel free to continue to request!

you were hoping to keep things private for at least a couple of months. you should've known better. you did know better.

unfortunately for you, your boyfriends seemed to be allergic to shutting the fuck up. you weren't upset, though. in fact, you thought it was hilarious and adorable. however, charles and max didn't need to know that small tidbit of information.

you first heard that others knew of your relationship from pierre, who complained to you during the driver's parade.

"i can't believe you guys didn't tell me! charles was pining for you two for as long as i can remember! now he won't shut up about how much he loves you and how happy it is now that you guys are dating!" pierre whines, sending a teasing glare to the back of charles's head. charles was too busy yapping with carlos to notice.

"he told you now, did he?" you ask in return, a pinch in between your eyebrows. you had planned to tell everyone together, but your boyfriends tended to become mindless when they were chatting with the others.

"he told me the three of you barely fit on the bed since max takes up most of it, and how you make breakfast in the morning and how he gets the princess treatment!" pierre exclaims, sighing heavily. "it is ridiculous, truly."

the next time you found out others knew about your relationship was when you were on podium with lando and max.

"max here told me you three were together!" lando tells you in a whisper as max's eyes are trained on the race replays. the cool down room was almost quiet, save for max's comments here and there.

"of course he did," you remark quietly with a small eye roll.

"took you guys long enough," the younger man replies, nudging you with his papaya clad elbow, wiggling his eyebrows in a way that made you want to kick his shins. he was like your annoying little brother.

"you don't get to comment, mr. 'i am helplessly in love with my teammate but won't tell him'," you retort with a smirk as he blushes a bright red and laughs nervously.

"fair point," lando responds, dropping the subject entirely and taking up conversation with your boyfriend.

the next time another driver asked about your relationship with max and charles, it had been a surprise to you. lance, who you got on well with, gave you a knowing look after post-race interviews. you had gone directly to max and charles, striking up conversation while you all stood suspiciously close. closer than you normally did. you excused yourself when lance shot you that look.

"finally confessed?" lance asked as soon as you were right next to him. he was more subtle about it compared to pierre and lando. lance had been one of the people you were closest to, from the time you started the early formula series up to now.

lance knew all about your crushes on the other two. "that obvious?" you asks in return, grinning at your friend as he pats you on the back. you knew he was happy for you. "don't worry, stroll. you're still my best friend," you assure him, nudging him in the ribs. he grins and nudges you back.

the final time you heard of your own relationship was from none other than your number one nemesis: danica patrick. she addressed on sky sports, stating it was a rumor and making small, almost unnoticeable bacl handed comments.

hearing her agitating voice, you decided to pull both your boyfriends aside. you explained to them that they should go off the handles and let everyone know about their relationship during their next interviews.

most press rook this in stride. the gossip accounts all over tiktok and instagram were ablaze, the hottest topic being the three of you. of course, there was loads of hate but you could care less. you were happy and that's all that mattered.

TAGS! (if you want to be added, lmk!)

@op-81-lvr-reblogs, @koalapastries, @justaf1girl, @ghostking4m, @spoonfulofmilo

#f1 x male reader #f1 x reader #formula 1 x male reader #formula one x reader #max verstappen x male reader #max verstappen x reader #charles leclerc x male reader #charles leclerc x reader

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gretavanbrie · 2 years ago

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Landslide (J.T.K.)

Summary: You’ve loved him for as long as you can remember, does he feel the same?

Pairings: Jake Kiszka x F!Reader

Warnings: no smut for this part just pure ANGST ;), established friendship, swearing, unrequited love, light portrayal of anger, jake & y/n are a little dramatic but aren’t we all?? mentions of childhood, alcohol consumption… if I missed anything lmk, I’ll fix it no issue!!

A/N: I’m actually really excited for this one!! This is based on the winning answer of this poll I did, if you guys are looking for a bit more context on what this is about. I may have hurt my own feelings a couple times amidst writing this, I had my Jake lane friend read it and she was not too happy with me so hopefully this will strike a nerve for you guys as well!! If not that’s cool too! My writing is pretty sporadic so I’m gonna try and put out as much content as I can if you guys end up liking this story. I’m a waitress so my hours are long and unpredictable I do apologize in advance lol. I’m debating on if I should leave this as is, or make two long parts, or even start a mini series…not too sure yet but lmk what you think!!! Also this is vaguely proof read. If there are any mistakes, bare with me.

Part 2 | Part 3

Here you were, standing in front of the mirror, clammy hands nervously smoothing down the fabric of the dress you adorned. You made it a point to pull out all of the stops today, you’d washed and beautifully dried your hair. You gave one last look at your makeup before running your hands through your hair and heading to grab your bag. You let out a shaky breath picking up your phone.

The boys were back from tour and some mutual friends were having a little gathering as a welcome back. Any other time you wouldn’t have been so uneasy but the conversation you had with Josh had been replaying in your head the entire time they’ve been gone.

“Are you ever going to tell him?” You immediately recognize that voice.

Everyone was outside as the small farewell party for the commence of the tour had somehow migrated towards the backyard of Josh’s lovely home. You clear your throat in an attempt to rid the uneasiness in your voice.

“Excuse me?” You turn setting down the bottle of wine you were going to pour for yourself. He stood at the entryway of the kitchen as you feigned a confused expression to which he saw right through.

“Y/n..we may not hang out as much as you and my brother do but I still know you just as well. If not more, it seems” you just stared at him for a moment trying to find a good way out of this before quickly turning around and finished pouring yourself a glass. With your back still turned you speak up knowing there’s no use in hiding it anymore, if there was one person you could trust with this information it would be him.

“It’s just not a conversation to be had, he’s my best friend nothing more. It’s just a silly crush it’ll go away” you waved your hand to seemingly brush it off as you turned to face him. Not the whole truth, but not necessarily a lie? God you didn’t even believe yourself, how could you expect him to. You brought the glass to your lips letting the smooth red ease your nerves.

“A silly crush that’s lasted since senior year?” The minute those words left his mouth your eyes widened in shock. Quickly swallowing to refrain from spitting your drink all over his nice white shirt.

“What do you mean by that?” you stare inquisitively not knowing he was privy to just how deep this ‘silly crush’ had run.

“Oh c’mon don’t play coy. Like I said, I know you. We were friends first..lest you forget.” You giggled recalling the vague memory of 2nd grade recess, he stepped further into the room before continuing on.

“You keep too much to yourself, you’ve gotta stop sacrificing your own needs for the sake of what you think the other person wants. Disregard me as his brother for the time being, right now I’m coming to you as a friend. I’m not here to pressure you into telling him anything, that is your own decision to make. I just want you to ask yourself if this is what you really want. I mean come on your twenty-seven now y/n. You think I haven’t noticed that you’ve refused to see anyone since summer going into senior year?’

“That’s not true” you cut him off, defending yourself.

“I wasn’t completely celibate I was seeing that one guy Liam for some time… a-and Henry my sophomore year of college. I’m just not looking for anything.” Truth was, you were at one point. You convinced yourself getting under someone was the only way to get over another. Until you realized neither of them were Jake and that’s why you could never see them as a part of the long haul.

“And did you ever make it official with them? Or better yet, did they last any longer than 8 months?’ He challenged. You looked down at your feet defeated knowing there’s no use in denying any more. You know he knows. There was a beat of silence before you spoke up once more.

“I’d rather him be my friend than nothing at all, Josh.” you said quietly looking up at him as he embraced you in a hug running his hands through your hair.

You hear him sigh before he quietly speaks into your hair.

“I know.”

———————————————————————————

You shut your eyes and shook your head as if to rid the memory. You had wracked your brain enough about it. Josh was right and you knew it, it’s been nearly 10 years but you hadn’t always had feelings for Jake. For a while actually you would nearly gag at the mere thought. Albeit there wasn’t much room for romance during the pre-pubescent “cootie” stage of your life.

Your parents and the Kiszka’s became rather close throughout the years. You and the Kiszka clan wreaked borderline havoc growing up. With all the trouble you got into it was only a matter of time your parents would cross paths. Once they realized the five of you were inseparable they decided there was no use in staying strangers. Danny and his family soon came into the picture and you considered yourselves a bond to never be broken from that point on.

Although Jake had deemed you guy’s best friends summer going into 5th grade year, you were closest to Ronnie in high school. You were girls together. During the time of first periods and finding out boys can be attractive you migrated towards each other and found solace together within the testosterone-tainted group you had formed. You’d always struggled making friends, you didn’t normally speak unless spoken to. You weren’t necessarily shy, you just always felt like you didn’t really fit in with all the rest.

Once you crossed paths with Josh 2nd grade, he left you no choice but to be his friend. He was overly inviting and basically dragged you to join him on whatever crazy idea him and his twin had gotten into next. You chose to not complain given he was actually nice to you and took time in making sure to include you.

You had remained school friends for the years following, hangouts limited to recess and lunchtime until around the summer before 5th grade when you moved a few houses down from their own. You saw them playing outside from your bedroom window one day and begged your mom to run down there and greet your friends.

You and your ponytail came flying out of the house screaming “Josh! Jake! It’s me!!! From Ms. Crowley’s Class!!! I live by you now!!!”

“Y/n!! Is it really you!! We can play at home now!!” Josh exclaimed, his twins' smile growing ten fold.

“You have to meet my brother and sister, we can all play together now!” Jake said, calling out for Ronnie and Sam. You were quickly introduced to the two and although they were a couple years younger, you were kids, and found joy in whatever silly games you had come up with together nonetheless.

As you sat up against the tree cooling off from the intense game of freeze tag you all had just played, you saw Jake walk up and sit beside you.

“I can’t believe you moved close to my house, loser. Today was fun.” the boy said, ruffling your hair.

‘Hey! Quit! I’m not a loser.” you laughed pushing his arm away.

“Yea-huhh, that’s why you couldn’t catch me during tag.” he mocked, you squint your eyes at him playfully before pushing him away from you.

“That’s why you have cooties!” You retaliated feeling defensive now.

“See! Sore loooserrr” Jake sing-songed.

‘You’re being a meanie now Jakey, it’s just a game” you pouted looking to your feet. You probably were just being sensitive but you hadn’t known better. His expression softened realizing his words might’ve stricken a nerve.

“Oh come on, you know I’m kidding, you’re my new best friend. Especially now that we live so close” he said, lips tugging into a shy smile as he softly elbowed at your side. You whipped your head up to look at him

“You think I’m your best friend? You promise?” You said as hopeful eyes met his own. No one had ever made it a point to deem you as such. A friend is one thing, but a best friend was something far more special in your mind.

“Pinky promise.” he assured, hooking your smallest of fingers with his own.

————————————————————————————

The sentiment was sweet and you were thankful you had friends like them growing up, it made life a little easier knowing you had a constant. Easier until teenage hormones came into the picture and Jake was no longer your boy-ish ‘best friend’ and had started growing handsomely into his features. His face became more chiseled, his chest a bit more filled out, voice dropping a couple octaves lower and not to mention he grew taller. It all happened too fast for your awkward teenage self to process. One day he was regular old Jake and the next he was…hot.

So, you did what you thought was best. Denied any and all attraction and gaslighted yourself into thinking it would go away. It was Jacob for fucks sake, your life-long friend who you considered a brother to you. You and Ronnie had gotten suspiciously closer that year, you brushed it off as ‘needed girl time’ but as years passed you realized you were just trying to distract yourself from Jake in hopes that if you saw him less, the attraction would eventually metastasize.

Boy were you wrong because Jake was adamant on including you in every hangout as he began to gain popularity. You had convinced yourself things would drift off throughout high school, thinking the boys would deem themselves ‘too cool’ to hang with you now and the silly pinky promise he made would be brushed off as immature to him. But it wasn’t, he instead kept his promise. His friends soon becoming your own, girlfriends never lasting long because ‘you and Ronnie are more important to me than any other girl’ he says. Finding yourself at their house more often than you had expected for this new chapter of your life and before you knew it, you had grown closer than ever, and your growing crush more suppressed than ever.

You were shaken out of your thoughts as your phone began buzzing. An incoming call from none other than Veronica herself. You quickly picked it up, bringing the phone to your ear.

“Girl where are you?! You promised you’d be here by the time I got here” you heard her whine on the other end. “Everyone is already mingling, the boys are late yet again and I have no one!” You laughed into the line knowing she was just exaggerating.

“Oh come on Ron, it can’t be that bad you know Mike a-and Dave’s girlfriend.” You tried reasoning, knowing you’d be just as anxious if your friends hadn’t showed up just yet.

“I’m sure they’re already there, talk to them for a little bit okay? I’m sorry, I’m leaving now I just got caught up finding what to wear” you continued, not necessarily a lie although you didn’t want her to know the real reason you were stalling was because today could possibly change the entire trajectory of your life. Dramatic to say the least, but true.

“It’s okay y/n, I was giving you shit. I’ll be fine… wait a minute. Did you say you were looking for something to wear?? You’ve never cared about that stuff, who are you trying to look good forrrrrr?” she teased.

“‘Oh hush Ronnie, it's just been a while since I’ve gone out and felt hot. Just needed a boost of confidence today is all, no secret fella or anything” you giggled.

“Yet…” she laughed.

“Yea yea whatever, let me go so I can head over” you said grabbing your keys and slipping on your shoes.

“Okay okay, byeeee love you!” She said before quickly hanging up.

“Love you too” you said to no one in particular, smiling to yourself at your dear friend's abruptness.

There was no reason for you to be so nervous, it’s just the boys and Ronnie. It was Jake that had you so uneasy. You had replayed yours and Josh’s conversation enough times to knock some sense into yourself. You weren’t going to lay it on him full force but tonight was your chance to let your guard down and not shy away from him. Maybe even flirt, as best you could anyway, if things were smooth sailing. He’s been single for some time this was your chance to maybe plant a couple seeds. You wanted to see if there was even the slight off-chance he may just like you back and you’d be able to look back at how foolish keeping it from him was.

It was easier said than done as you started second guessing your entire look. You felt as though everyone would think you were trying too hard but that wasn’t the case, you’d gone out in more extravagant looks than the white linen sundress you settled on. It was flowy and stunning, casual but beautiful enough to make you feel at your best. Your hair cascaded beautifully down your back from your blowout, you put on your expensive perfume. You felt great, the only significant difference was that you wore a little extra makeup and you took the time to do your nails. You knew it was purely the anxiety talking. Plus, no one even knows how you feel about him other than Josh.

In attempts to calm yourself, your hand reaches for your phone as you stop at a light. Opening your Spotify you hit shuffle on your playlist. You sighed and smiled as the familiar guitar from Cannock Chase by Labi Siffre started playing. You and Jake loved this song, singing it on too many drunken nights to count. It truly was a beautiful song. You decided to just enjoy yourself and let the evening take its course rather than stressing out about it.

————————————————————————————

You pull into the long driveway of your friend Spencer’s house seeing all the cars parked out front. You find a good spot and walk up to the door seeing a few others talking by the front steps, you recognize his fiancé and smile politely walking towards her.

“My god, y/n is that you? You look absolutely stunning.” She smiled as she wrapped her arms around you before pulling away and linking arms, guiding you towards the entrance of her and Spencer’s shared home.

“Mmm and you always smell amazing, have you been inside yet? We missed you like crazy, Ronnie’s been inside waiting. I think the boys are here already though-“

“Thank you Claire, I appreciate it. I’ll be sure to find them” you cut her off smiling gently as you gave her hand one last squeeze before stepping inside. Claire is a lovely woman but has a bad habit of rambling, you find it endearing but others seem to tire of her rather quickly.

Upon crossing the threshold into their home you’re immediately greeted by the short brunette.

“Finally! The boys are here, come on, we've been wondering where you were.” You nervously laughed as Ronnie grabbed your hand and dragged you towards the backyard.

You weave through the small bunch of people gathered in the living room and kitchen before you walk through to the sliding door, stepping onto the patio. Josh spots you and immediately heads over to give you the warmest of hugs.

“I knew it was you, I’d recognize that perfume anywhere. Glad you could make it little one” you smiled in his embrace at his terms of endearment, your cheeks warmed at the sentiment.

“Thank you Joshy, I’m so happy to finally see you. It’s been far too long.” you smiled up at him before you were quickly swept away.

You startled as you felt strong arms wrap around your waist from behind lifting you up and twirling you. You laughed recognizing the familiar cologne, you see his chestnut brown locks as he sets you down.

“And who might this lovely lady be?” Jake jokes, stepping back to get a good look at you.

“What an extravagant greeting, I see you’ve been gone long enough to forget about a girl like me” you joked back, hand coming up to rest on our chest as you feigned a look of hurt. Your favorite bit with him now taking it’s course.

“Ahhh, nonsense. A girl like you? Unforgettable'' he assured in his familiar cockney accent flashing you that infamous smirk you’ve grown to love. You looked down bashfully as you blushed yet again. You’ve almost grown sick of how quickly he can turn you into mush, you know he means nothing by it. You can’t help but wish maybe he did.

“Oh come on, you’re just saying that.” You laughed as you walked over to pour yourself some wine. Opting for a white this time given your attire. God forbid your nerves get the better of you and you spill it all over yourself.

You can’t help but notice you and Jake had accidentally coordinated outfits. He bore a cream colored blazer, akin to his cream colored pants. The muted brown button up he had on underneath was unsurprisingly left open with a couple of his pendants decorating his chest. He looked handsome, to say the least.

“Hmm you don’t sound so excited to see your lifelong friend, I’ve been gone for months and this is the treatment I receive?” He exaggerates, giggles escaping between words not able to take himself seriously.

“I thought we were besties y/n” he laughs, feigning a hurt expression knowing that would make you crack.

You can’t help but let a giggle escape your lips, the joke now running dry.

“Alright, alright. I guessss I missed you '' you say, wrapping both your arms around his waist. He gives the quickest peck to the top of your head.

“It’s good to see you sunshine, been too long” he gives you one last squeeze, you smiled at the old nickname he called you as you pulled away.

“Did you forget about us?!” You hear Danny exclaim. You whipped your head towards the back door sliding closed as the self-proclaimed “better half” of the band stepped outside.

“How could I? With the million random voice notes I’m sent a day…not a chance” You tease walking up to hug Sam.

“Glad I could aid, you look fantastic y/n. Definitely better than when we left” Sam teased tapping his chin as if in deep thought.

“Hey! Not cool man.” you jokingly retort as Danny comes up to give you a side hug.

“Yeah your hair’s longer or something or..you put on blush? Fuck, I tried. I don’t know what girls do but you look great” Danny says pulling back to examine you, you blushed at all the sweet gestures.

“She’s always been a looker!” Josh blurts in his exaggerated Midwest accent, raising his brows giving you a cheeky smile. You giggle at his candor.

“Yeah? You’re like…glowing, I’m glad to see you so happy. Also I didn’t tell you when I saw you but I don’t know why you were nervous on what to wear, this dress looks beautiful on you” Ronnie says smoothing out the flyaways on the top of your head. You and Josh make eye contact, he flashes you a look knowing exactly why you were nervous before averting his eyes and taking a sip of his mixed drink.

“Thank you guys I really really appreciate it, but this is a celebration for you! We haven’t seen each other in quite some time, let's make the most of it yeah?” You say raising your glass.

Jake would never say it out loud because he loved teasing you, but you did look rather beautiful today. Sam was right, you looked different. Good different. Maybe it was the hair, or maybe it was having some stress-free months without them. Jake knew they could be quite the handful and maybe this time away from each other caused this new glow, so he thought.

Whatever it was, he admired the way your hair blew softly in the wind. How the midday sun had created the perfect glow on your skin. He especially loved how the sweetness of your perfume matched your sweet personality. He was extremely proud to have you in his life.

“Cheers to that!” Sam exclaims raising his seltzer can.

“Alright! First order of business now that we’re all here "Josh butts in, waving a finger in the air. We wait patiently for his supposed plans, all you hear is the faint music for a second before he speaks up again.

“Yeah.. I’ve got nothing. Although it is a rather beautiful day..” he continues looking around at the beautiful midday sunlight. The six of us break into laughter at his wit.

“Doesn’t Spencer have a pool table? I say we play a couple rounds and catch up?" Sam offers looking around for approval.

‘I’m in, everybody down?” Jake speaks up, moving to stand beside you. Hums of approval circulate as we all migrate inside towards the billiards table. Before you fully enter Spencer’s spare room you feel a hand on your lower back. Turning, you're met with Jake's familiar caramel eyes.

“Hey.. whenever you’ve got time, you mind if I get a word alone with you?” He asks. You should feel worried given the question but he seemed…excited? You couldn’t precisely read the emotion clouding his irises.

‘Um, sure. I-is everything okay” you couldn’t help the anxiety that burned in your chest.

“More than. Just gotta share something special with you.” He says flashing you a warm smile, quickly easing your nerves.

“Okay then, I’d love that.” You smile before you two make your way inside the room seeing a couple of others have also decided they wanted a go at pool. You spot Ronnie sitting next to Danny on the loveseat and plop down beside her. Taking a long sip from your wine.

“Thirsty?” She laughs, boy she has no idea.

“Yea just needed some refreshment in my life, you know?” you wink at her before setting your glass on the table beside you. She giggles before continuing her conversation with Danny. You watch as the boys argue over who gets solids and who gets stripes.

“You ever gonna learn how to play pool y/n?” Jake teases knowing you’ve never been the best at it. You decide to entertain it.

“Only if I come across a good enough teacher.” You quip smiling up at him.

“Come on then, I think I know a guy” he smirks, reaching his hand out to help you up. You gently take his into your own, pulling yourself onto your feet. Josh takes your spot on the couch as Jake walks you both towards the table and hands you the stick.

You smile at Sam on the other side of the table. You immediately try and get into position going solely based on what you’ve seen. You hear a chuckle behind you as Jake presses himself against your back and adjusts your aim so it’s pointing towards the white ball. Your breath hitches in your throat at the proximity. He clears his throat before abruptly stepping back and shoving his hands in his pockets. Weird.

“Your position was correct, but you were pointing at the black one..you definitely don’t wanna shoot at that just yet” he laughs. “The white one does your dirty work, use it to bounce a striped ball into the closest hole. You and Sam will take turns shooting at your respective balls unless-“ you can’t help but snort, you quickly cover your mouth realizing you’ve interrupted him.

“Hey, get your mind out of the gutter” you just shrug as he smiles. He continues on demonstrating and explaining the rules until you feel confident enough to play a match by yourself. You were grateful Jake has always been so patient with you.

‘You got this y/n!” You hear Ronnie cheer, flashing you her bright smile. You blow her a kiss as Sam initiates the game. Your turn comes and you throw your hair over your shoulders and lean into position. Jake quickly averts his eyes to be respectful although Josh wasn’t shy with it at all.

“Damn mama, lookin good.” he playfully winks, raising his glass to you.

“Oh hush” you laugh before making your first shot that unfortunately didn’t go in but after a couple tries you got the hang of it and you and Sam were down to a close match. You hear Danny and Josh narrating the match like some football game as it comes down to the last few balls on the table until eventually only the 8-ball remains.

This was it. You were one hit away from winning, if you missed this Sam would win and you wouldn’t let that boastful man win any time soon. You may have calmed down over the years but you were still just as competitive as your younger self. You adjust the stick between your fingers, closing one eye to aim just right.

Point. Shoot.

The familiar thud of the ball falling in sounds. You swiftly turn to the long-haired man standing behind you.

“I did it Jake, I did it!!” You exclaim getting lost in the short high of your win. Letting your excitement get the best of you, you tackle him in a hug wrapping your arm around his neck.

“Can’t believe it took you so long to give in and actually play” he says, arms still wrapped around you, pulling back and staring at you. The realization settling in that you may be way too close for comfort. You swore you saw his eyes flicker down to your lips, you brushed it off as wishful thinking. You allow your eyes to run across his face a couple times. Seeing how the tour has treated him. His stubble subtly grew atop his lip, focusing on how soft they looked. His hands tighten around your waist as his breathing picks up. You realize you’ve lingered for too long as silence washes over the room.

You loosen your grip on him and step away from his embrace. You look around seeing everyone had dispersed talking with others. Suddenly feeling very awkward, you clear your throat adjusting the fabric of your dress before combing your fingers in your hair in an attempt to recollect yourself seeing as you now feel incredibly flushed. You clear your throat before speaking up.

“I think I’m gonna step out for a sec” you smile meekly, grabbing your glass.

“N-no yeah, by all means” he gestures towards the door adjusting the lapel of his coat that you had so desperately clung onto moments before.

————————————————————————————

You rush out smiling politely at everyone you pass on your way to the back deck. The sun has started to set, the beautiful golden hour shining brighter than ever across the yard. You step outside feeling the breeze brush past your skin, quietly thankful there was no one out here. You tuck a strand of hair behind your ear as you sit on the porch swing.

You stare off trying to process whatever the fuck that was. God, he just made your heart flutter without any thought. The way he leaned up against you. The way his eyes seemingly locked onto your lips for a split second. It was all too much, were you being delusional? Either way you needed a breather before you made any mistakes. He was your friend, he would never deem you as anything more. He’s seen all your ugly awkward phases, there’s no way he’d see you in any sort of romantic light especially with the amount of beautiful women he meets, he could have anyone.

“Can we talk?” You heard his voice as the sliding door shut. You turn and meet Jake’s eyes as he steps closer in your direction.

“Of course! Sorry, I didn’t mean to just run off. I think the riesling might’ve gotten to me a bit” you force a laugh.

“Come sit” you continue as you pat the spot next to you on the swing. He adjusts his coat before taking a seat and running his hands through his hair.

“Ahh don’t worry about it, I just figured I wanna tell you sooner than later. This is special to me and I’ve been meaning to tell you for a while” his tight-lipped smile showing as he toys with his bracelets before looking up and turning to face you.

He grabs both your hands in his and your heart beat quickly accelerates.

“You’re important to me, y/n. And I think it’s time I share this with you, I can’t hide it any longer. I've been avoiding it because I couldn’t find the right words to say…” he says as his eyes lock in on your own, his thumb gently rubbing over your fingers.

What the fuck is happening? You think to yourself.

“What is it, Jake? You can tell me anything you know..” you say hopeful eyes gazing up at him.

If this was going in the direction you’d hoped, all your dreams would come true. You quickly brushed it off not wanting to get your hopes up.

“I know, sunshine.” He chuckles softly.

“Um, I wanna start by saying I value how close we are which is why I need to make this known..”

Oh my god, is he…

“I’ve been deciding on wether or not I want to pursue this and I don’t think the answer could’ve been clearer, its been in front of me this whole time for fucks sake” he gives a breathy laugh as he scoots closer, eyes boring into your own. His eyebrows furrow for a moment like he’s unsure if he should continue but it's quickly replaced by a smile.

This is it.. is this his way of telling you he feels it too?

“Fuck it I’m just gonna say it..”

Please say what I think you're gonna say..

“Yeah?” You prod, the hope in your tone making you internally cringe.

“..I started seeing someone from our crew…i really like her y/n” he smiled looking at his shoes.

Oh.

The minute those words left his mouth your world seemingly went mute. Your ears rung like you had just been dunked under water. Your smile faded as your face became agonizingly hot and your throat tightened. How could you be so foolish? You should’ve known better. Of course he wasn’t about to confess his undying love for you as you would to him, you let your hopeless romanticism take over and now you’ve hurt your own feelings. Your dress suddenly feeling too tight on your body. You hair was touching all the wrong places. There probably was no need for the internalized dramatics but you wanted to crawl out of your own skin right now.

“Earth to y/n? Aren’t you gonna say anything” he laughs, scanning your face for any sort of emotion. You’d learned how to keep a good poker face dealing with his plethora of girlfriends. You faked a bright smile as tears threatened to spill over.

“Y-yeah!” You clear your throat realizing your voice has broken.

“Is everything okay?” He asks cutting you off before you could continue on. You still kept the insufferably wide fake smile on your face.

“Everything’s great! I'm just so happy for you Jakey, she must be a very special girl and I'm glad you’ve found someone who can put a smile like that on your face” you said, taking your hands from his grasp and rubbing his arm. You made sure to bring out your old nickname for him to convince him you were being sincere.

Jake was listening intently but knew you were lying. He’s known you for years, if he had know any better he’d say you looked heartbroken but decided not to press on it.

‘There’s no way she’s upset, she sees me as just a friend.’ Jake thinks to himself.

“Y-yea i just wanted to tell you today ‘cause she’ll be here any minute now and i’d love for you and Ronnie to finally meet her” he says, now seemingly unsure of himself.

“Wow! Y-yeah.. I mean I’d love to!” You say nervously running your fingers through your hair. God, how were you gonna get through meeting her so soon after the love of your life, who didn’t know he was the love of your life, had just single-handedly shattered your heart.

“Great, i'm so happy you’re my best friend sunshine” he says standing up opening his arms signaling he wants a hug. You rise and give him a quick embrace.

“Yea… me too.” You say as you try and fight off the tears once his arms wrap around you.

You excuse yourself to grab another drink. You rush inside but of course you just had run into Josh on your way to find the strongest bottle of alcohol this house could provide.

“Woah slow down little lady— hey… you okay?” he says, noticing your glossy eyes.

“Peachy. Now, if you’ll excuse me for just one second” you say trying to squeeze past.

“Ah-ah-ah, not until you tell me what’s got you in such a hurry.” He says grabbing your wrist.

“I just need a second alone, please josh..” your voice trails off into whisper, you were trying your best to stay composed but the more he kept poking and prodding at this fresh wound the more afraid you were of completely imploding.

“Oh, okay..” he complies, releasing his grip as he watches you snatch the entire bottle of wine and make your way to the guest bathroom. You were gonna need some liquid courage to withstand meeting whoever this chick is. You didn’t mean to be so sour but you felt foolish.

————————————————————————————

You sat down on the closed toilet seat after locking the bathroom door and thanked whomever that this wine bottle was a twist cap. You took a few sips before processing everything.

10 years.

10 years of convincing yourself that this would go away, but it somehow only grew stronger.

10 years of being irrevocably in love with one of your closest friends.

You were stupid enough to think he would feel the same way when he’s legitimately touring the world and has any girl he chooses at his feet.

Why couldn’t it be me?

I should’ve spoken up sooner. It’s all too late. Would he have even liked me back?

You let your head drop as tears clouded your vision, you succumbed to just letting them fall freely now that you were in private.

You wept for your inner teenage self knowing all she wanted got squashed right before your eye. Life can turn on a dime, you shouldn’t have wasted so much time hoping one day he just might make a move. I mean josh was right, you pathetically remained single because you only had eyes for his brother… for the most part. You’ve mingled but none of them could ever truly get your mind off of him. And for what? He’s just a guy. Albeit, a guy who is incredibly kind to you, knows all your in’s and out’s. How you like your coffee, all your favorite songs. He knew that you had to sleep with one extra blanket in bed because the only way you can fall asleep is if you're wrapped up in it. He knew that you would only ever accept flowers if at least one of the petals has wilted because lest we forget, we too are all but a little damaged. He’d grown to know all your weird habits as if it was second nature to him. He was what every girl desired.

You'd devoted yourself to him, built your life around him almost. Your earliest memories are plagued with him and his family and now everything has come crashing down faster than you can handle. You had a feeling deep down that you needed to get over him years ago so who are you to sit here and feel sorry for yourself. You knew better than to think he could ever love you back. You knew blind faith would come back to bite you in the ass.

It was stupid to wait so long with all these bottled up feelings towards him, you feel like you’ve wasted so much of your time helplessly hoping in silence and now who were you meant to seek advice from. You can’t tell your best friend he’s just broken your heart because you’ve been madly in love with him since you were seventeen. You can’t tell Ronnie because, although you’re incredibly grateful for it, she would come to your immediate defense and the last thing you wanted was a big fallout at their welcome home party. You’ve never been in more internal conflict than now.

You allowed yourself to shed a couple more tears before touching up your makeup and chugging down some more of the cheap Riesling. They would come looking for you any second now.

You collected yourself taking one last glance in the mirror before exuding a shaky breath as your hand reached to turn the knob. Stepping outside your met with Josh leaned up against the wall. Was he waiting for you to get out?

“There you are..” he whispered, swiftly grasping your arm and dragging you right back into the bathroom.

“J-josh what the fuck? What are you doi-“ you were cut off by him shushing you and locking the door.

“Listen, I’m so sorry. I didn’t think he would actually make it official with her. I thought she was some fling of his. If I had known I would’ve warned you.”

“So you know about our conversation?” You softly ask, trying to tame the lump growing in your throat.

“Yea, she’s here and Jake said you ran off after he told you he wanted to introduce you to her”

“Oh my god, I probably embarrassed myself. I wasn’t thinking Josh, I was just afraid I’d lose it in front of him” You say bringing your hands up to rub your temples. Josh reaches to grab your wrists, holding your arms in front of you.

“Hey, hey.. stop stressing yourself out. Everything happens for a reason, okay? You didn’t embarrass yourself, no one suspects a thing. I just wanted to make sure you were alright, it's pretty big news for you” he says, thumb rubbing gently on your forearms. The waterworks were conjuring up again, a small tear slipped as you met his eyes.

“I waited too long Josh…” you whispered.

“You were right. I shouldn’t have done this to myself. I-I mean, am I crazy for wishing someone could love me the way I love them?” You questioned rhetorically, your teary eyes staring into Josh’s pity-filled ones. You hated how he was staring at you. You didn’t need pity, you knew the mess you got yourself into.

"Not crazy at all, sunshine.” Hearing Jake's nickname for you coming out of Josh’s mouth felt wrong. Especially right now.

“Come on. let's take a deep breath and greet the guest, shall we?” He offers. You inhale a sharp breath before nodding your head in compliance, it was gonna happen one way or another, might as well man up for now and wallow in the privacy of your own home.

————————————————————————————

You both make your way into the living room seeing everyone gathered around the couch. A few people seemed to have gone home, there were a lot less people than when you showed up. Sam, Dan, and Ronnie sat on one couch.

Your eyes peered over to Jake in the kitchen talking to a beautiful blonde. She was wearing black silk blouse and some mom jeans. It was casual but elegant, you envied how effortlessly pretty she was.

“Hey.. stop getting in your head.” Josh whispered in your ear. Claire and Spencer waved for you to come join everyone. You took your seat as Ronnie got up from her spot next to Sam and came over to sit next to you.

“Where were you? You like..disappeared” she giggled. You smiled at her as best you could.

“The wine wasn’t sitting well, I needed a breather” you laugh hoping she believed you.

The only reason you never told any of your friends about your feelings for Jake was because at first you were convinced it would go away, so why embarrass yourself by telling someone something only for it to not be true in a few weeks and potentially jeopardize an entire friendship. Then as the years went on of you gaslighting yourself into thinking it would go away, all of a sudden 10 years had gone by.

“Ugh I feel you, Sam made me the nastiest marg earlier. I thought I was gonna yak” she says clutching her stomach. You laugh along with her, thankful she didn’t pry any further.

You were broken from your conversation as Jake walked in the room, his hand locked in hers as he guided her in.

“Alright everyone, this is Laura. My beautiful girlfriend.” He says leaning in to kiss her cheek. Jake seemed like he’s had one too many, his words slightly slurring but you don’t question any further. She politely smiled and greeted everyone. Jake notices you, his eyes twinkle before shining you a bright smile and gesturing for her to come meet you.

“Y/n, Laura. Laura, y/n.. this lovely lady has been one my best friends since elementary school” he introduces, slurring his words a bit gesturing towards you with an open palm. You smile wide and rise to give her a quick hug, Josh watching you intently. Your hospitality is admirable.

“Oh my gosh! You’re y/n! I've heard so much about you, I love your dress” she compliments.

Fuck. She’s actually really nice, it sounds terrible to say but you were secretly hoping she was bitch so you wouldn’t feel as bad for being so upset. Your moral compass however, refuses to allow you to feel negatively towards anyone undeserving.

“Thank you, you're so kind. It’s a pleasure to meet you” you smile bright as your cheeks flush from the sincerity of the compliment. She excuses herself to the bathroom, as Jake gestures for the two of you to take a seat yet again. The constant sitting and standing was starting to wear you out.

“Soooo what’d you think?” He says

“Short interaction, but she seems like a great girl Jakey. As long as you're happy I’m happy.” You give a tight-lipped smile, toying with a loose string on your dress.

“That’s it? That’s all you're gonna say?” he asks, stumbling over his words. There’s a certain tone he brought on that you didn’t like.

“W-well I don’t know what you want me to say… a-are you drunk right now?” You say, now adopting a confused expression.

“You could at least act a little more enthused for me. I mean do you even care at all? I was excited for the two of you to meet” he says, scooting back in his spot. He seemed offended, where was all this coming from?

“I-I’m sorry? I don’t know why you’re getting so upset with me. What do you want me to do Jake?” You say lowering your tone so the others around you do catch wind of whatever disagreement this seemed to be.

“You know what…just forget it, you could at least act like you care.” He spat, harshly grabbing his drink and abruptly leaving from his spot beside you. You sat there in shock.

What the fuck.

Your face suddenly felt hot, your throat tightened aggressively. You needed to get out of this house. You did care, too much. That’s why you felt your entire body go numb as tears clouded your vision. Why was he being so mean? Today has been the worst day ever. You swiftly get up from the couch and collect your things. You think you’ll make it with a successful Irish goodbye but of course with your luck, Josh catches you just before you slip out the front door.

‘Hey, where are you going” he asks.

“I can’t josh, I need to leave. I’m so sorry I just- I don’t know what came over him or how much he drank in the amount of time between our conversation and now but suddenly I’m the bad guy?? I don’t even know what I did wrong, apparently I don’t care enough? When you and I both know that’s far from the truth. I just wanna go home josh…please. I think I really fucked it this time and I need to process everything a little bit, okay? I really don’t mean to ruin your welcome home party, truly. I’m so glad to see you guys and maybe you and I could grab lunch this weekend to make up for me leaving so soon and bringing this drama.” You ramble, furiously wiping the tears streaming down your face. Josh doesn’t say anything, he just frowns and pulls you into a much needed hug.

“Alright mama, don’t worry about it.. you haven’t ruined anything. He probably had too much to drink. As far as I’m concerned I’m the only one who knows about this little fallout. Text me when you’re home, okay? Are you sure you’re okay to drive?” He questions.

“I’m okay, I was only kinda tipsy and that whole thing really sobered me up.” You let out a pathetic laugh at how humorous this all was. He rubs your arm before allowing you to make your way out.

You felt guilty for leaving so early, you didn’t mean to make it about you and you would’ve stuck it out but given Jake's newfound attitude towards you, you didn’t feel very welcomed anymore. Maybe you could’ve been more enthused but this was also heavy news for you. You start feeling regretful as you realized you had been a bit insensitive. You would have shown more joy for your best friend but how were you meant to give any more than that?? I mean she left for the bathroom in the middle of the greeting for fucks sake.

You sighed feeling at a loss. Granted, your feelings weren’t his responsibility but how exactly was he expecting you to react? You weren’t necessarily jumping with joy at the idea. But then again, he had no idea about your feelings. In his eyes, his best friend wasn’t matching his energy on something he deemed important. You start wracking your brain on everything you could’ve done to avoid this, essentially kicking yourself while your already down.

You make it to your car, hoping to just go home, have a night of reflection in a warm bath. As you sit down your phone vibrates in your hand.

Message from: Sam Wam Bam🕺🏻

-some friend you are..

Sam?? What the fuck? Why is he saying that?

Message from: Jake ❤️

-don’t even bother reaching out anymore.

wow.

He must’ve said something to Sam. Now sam probably thinks you were being a shit friend and ditched him and his brother at their own welcome back party after sharing the news with everyone.

You dropped your head to rest on your steering wheel as you realized you seemed inconsiderate to the people who didn’t know about your repressed feelings for the man. You felt like you ruined everything. You knew better than to get your hopes up, why did you think today would be any different and he would spontaneously have feelings for you? Foolish.

You let out a sob at their messages knowing this whole situation has been misunderstood. Because of it, everything was crumbling down around you.

So…thoughts? How we feelin’?

382 notes · View notes

luffyvace · 1 year ago

Text

AIZAWA’S KISSES HEADCANONS<3

The gif is blurry but I really like the angle/scene 😗

I did a post called ‘Zoro’s kisses’ a while ago and it did really well! So I’ve decided to make it a official mini series from @luffyvace w/ different anime characters bc y’all really liked those (ﾟ∀ﾟ)

Y’all probably haven’t kissed even if your already officially together

aizawa let’s it come naturally and doesn’t want to force it at a certain time

therefore it isn’t that he doesn’t want to,

he just waits for the opportunity

You two prob don’t kiss until like 2-3 months after making it official

Plus aizawa doesn’t wanna move too fast since this is likely his first relationship

he doesn’t wanna rush in and give you his first kiss and it doesn’t work out

Of course he’s thinking so rational like that

for your first kiss hcs

it’s def happening at yours or his house and no where else

he doesn’t wanna feel uncomfortable or be stared at right after it 🗿

plus he just isn’t for pda

he doesn’t wanna be that couple smooching away in a public place

let’s say y’all were at aizawa’s house on his couch chatting

you two were sitting pretty close but you didn’t realize it because you were used to it by now! Your a couple after all

The conversation kinda ended which woulda been awkward if you hadn’t noticed how close your faces were

you had a slight smile on your lips and then you both just sorta leaned in

his lips were soft and moist but his stuble beard was rough

You didn’t mind though with how passionately and gently he was kissing you

he was a natural!

you probably didn’t expect that!

actually—you didn’t expect this whole situation in the first place!

You were surely greatful though!

it was a rather pleasant kiss!

You drifted apart while softly smiling at each other before you laid your head on his shoulder

he brought an arm around you bringing you closer

you continued sitting there together in solidarity silence

grinning and replaying the scene over and over again in your heads

then kisses become a much more casual thing :)

dont try grand displays of pda in public tho

he sets the boundary that he doesn’t like it

he just thinks these things should be kept more professional especially while at work

he doesn’t mind a quick peck though

or gentle yet subtle touches

Yamada (present mic) teases him about how he went from a ‘emo loner’ to getting this fine looking s/o

LOLL

(even if you don’t think you’re fine yes you are I can’t express that enough—your personality shows and makes you attractive)

his ‘I miss you’ kisses are so much more romantic

say he or you went on a dangerous mission or one of you had your life on the line

As soon as you get home your getting a ‘I miss you’ kiss

an ‘I miss you’ kiss with him feels like

him embracing you in a hug as soon as you get home and not letting go for a while. him pressing you up against a wall, not even in a suggestive way and kissing you for long periods of time. Getting the most out of every second you spend together. him giving you little pecks in between long ones because he just can’t keep his lips off of you after not having you for so long.

After a life/death situation or hard mission he would be really caring and protective of you for a while

not that he isn’t always but you mind find yourself getting a few extra kisses and such <3

kisses on the temple become casual, especially when alone

hand and cheek kisses frequency increases as well

btw if your not into pda?

No prob! He isn’t either!

if you are?

his kisses are so gentle yet paced, making you crave them all the more

I hope you enjoy my new ‘character’s kisses series!!

364 notes · View notes

heygerald · 1 year ago

Text

Falling Without A Harness - Chapter 4

AU where Tom Ryder is still an asshole, just not a psychotic one. When he starts being less of an asshole, and more of a person, Parker finds that he isn't so bad. Not that she would tell him that, though.

read the story here: prev / next

Parker doesn't get much sleep. Not necessarily because she's so busy that she doesn't have time, and not definitively because of the sleep disorder she has self-diagnosed off of a sketchy website she found while browsing her symptoms one day.

In truth it's because she thinks too much.

She overthinks what her to-do list for the following week should be; overthinks the plot of her favorite tv series and whether or not they are going to kill off her favorite character in the mid-season finale; overthinks whether she should spend more one-on-one time with her brother while they're both in the same city, able bodied (with his career, there was no guarantee), and with the time to waste on stupid memories. On the really bad nights, Parker overthinks whether or not she made a mistake in purchasing an old, dilapidated bookstore that has drained her bank account over the last couple of years. She worries that her life is going nowhere, that she'll soon have failed at her dream venture, and that when she dies, she'll have no accomplishments to her name.

On those nights, she ends up washing down a handful of melatonin gummies with two boiling cups of sleepy time tea.

It helps, but it also leaves her floating in a state between unconsciousness and squirrely dreams that is hard to shake off in the morning.

Harder still to shake off when her phone lights up the room in the middle of the night, the shrill song of her ringtone bleating through the pitch black of her bedroom shocking her awake in delirious fright.

You gotta get up, gotta get out, gotta get home before the...

Parker swings her hand towards the nightstand in such a rush that she ends up knocking her cellphone onto the ground. It bounces on the hardwood floor—she doesn't even care if it breaks, the damn thing—before skidding underneath her bed. The light from it casts shadows in all directions.

What if I'm late? Gotta big date, gotta get home...

It takes her half crawling out of bed, sheets tangled around her bare legs, elbow braced on the cold floor as she blindly grapples for the device to find it. Colt always made fun of her ringtone—if you're going to pick a song, at least pick a good one, he would taunt while listening to Taylor Swift on replay—and while Parker had adamantly told him where to stick his opinion, at the moment, the song blaring in the middle of the night has her half-prepared to scratch out of her own eardrums in frustration.

The stanza continues: before the morning comes...

She grabs the phone and wrenches it—and herself—back onto the bed. The number isn't saved in her phone, and panic wells in her chest. She's gasping as blood rushes back down to her toes. "Hello?"

"Jesus, finally. I thought you weren't going to fucking answer."

Whether it's the tea, the overdose of melatonin, or the fact that she had just been woken up in the middle of the night, Parker can't seem to make sense of much. The only thing she can think about is how she has a brother who does stupid stuff for money, and has called her from the back of ambulance three times and counting.

Once on her birthday.

"Oh my god," she mutters, a hand already clutching to her chest as she can feel the cavity caving in. Clarity has no place in her spiraling panic. "Oh my god, he's finally dead, isn't he? Oh my god, Colt is dead!"

"What the fuck are you on about?" the voice interrupts her panic with a modicum of disbelief. It sounds familiar, but Parker is far more focused on regulating her breathing before she throws up than placing a voice through her half-broken speaker. The room, pitch black and without anything to see, is spinning. "I'm not even with Colt."

"Fuck," she curses, before recklessly scrabbling with her nightstand. It's a total fucking mess, and in her haste, she knocks a lamp and stack of books onto the ground. The least of her problems if her idiot of a brother is already fucking dead. "Fuck! Where are you? I didn't even know he was on a job right now. Um, what hospital is he at? Wait—shit—I need to find a pen and paper..."

"Parker, Jesus, Colt's fine. Stop spinning out for two seconds. Are you on drugs?"

She blinks, unsure if she just heard what she heard, and slowly withdrawals her hand as she tries to compute what is being said.

"He's... not dead?" she croaks hesitantly.

"He's fine. I mean, well, as far as I know," the voice drones on; it's clearly annoyed now. A scoff. "Why in the hell would you assume that he's dead?"

"Because—it's—" she wipes a hand over her face tiredly, sweeping tufts of hair off her forehead to peer at the clock in the corner. Large, red numbers blink at her showing that she had only been asleep for two and a half hours. Worse still when she makes sense of what she's seeing. "It's two thirty in the morning! Why the fuck would an unknown number be calling me in the middle of the night if it wasn't for Colt?"

"Are you—wait—are seriously his emergency contact?" the voice goads, teasing and judging all in one tone. She hates it. "That's a little pathetic, honestly."

Her left eye twitches. "Who the fuck is this?"

"It's Tom."

Parker doesn't know a Tom, she's never known a Tom in the entirety of her life, and as she struggles to clear her thoughts, the idea that some asshole with a stupid name like Tom would call her out of the blue at this time of night starts to really piss her off.

"Tom who? I don't know a fucking Tom!" she shouts into the receiver.

There's a thump against the wall, a muffled call of "shut the fuck up!" rings out from her roommate's room. Too many things are happening though, and Parker clutches her head between her hands while trying to stay on topic.

"Fucking Tom Ryder, smartass," the voice chides. "Who else?"

And—

Fuck.

Yeah, alright, maybe she did know a Tom, and, yeah, now that she thought about it, he was a raging, grade-A asshole that would call someone up in the middle of the night for no reason other than to ruin the first good sleep she had in a week. All while getting upset at her for her negative response to the impromptu gab-sesh.

You know, in the way that all assholes did.

"Why—?" she starts, before realizing that she is shouting. Parker clears her throat with a glance towards the wall and tries a second time in an angry hiss. "Why the fuck are you calling me at two in the morning, Ryder?"

"I finished the book and I want to talk about it."

The words don't compute for half a second, but when they do, Parker can feel a migraine spiraling behind her eyes. She sort of feels like she's having a seizure before realizing that it's just pure anger spiking in the bottom of her chest.

She's pretty sure this is how someone feels right before committing a violent crime.

"Are you—? I was fucking sleeping!" she hisses. "Good—fucking—bye!"

Hanging up the phone certainly isn't as satisfying as it used to be when flip phones were in fashion, and you could slam the top down to end a conversation. But pressing the big red END button on Tom Ryder does grant her a small moment of satisfaction. Even more so when she imagines the shocked furrow of his eyebrows or the crease of his mouth as he frowns.

Good, she thinks sourly while flopping back onto her pillows with a sharp huff, maybe Tom Ryder could use a few wrinkles in his life.

Her peace lasts all of twenty seconds.

You gotta get up, gotta get out, gotta get home before the morning...

Parker grabs a pillow and smushes it against her face hoping that it will drown out the noise. When it doesn't, she hopes that maybe suffocation will knock her out for a couple hours of sleep. But then there's another thump against the wall and she realizes that if she dies right here and now, the last person she would have ever talked to would be Tom fucking Ryder, and she's not so sure she's okay with that.

So, she removes the pillow to take a deep breath. Then she answers the phone.

"Did you just hang up on me?" he asks incredulously.

"It is two-thirty in the morning, and you want to talk about a book?"

A huff. "Yes. Why else would I ever call you?"

If she was more awake, Parker might have taken offense at the insult. She's much too groggy to do that, though. Besides, almost everything out of his mouth was some sort of judgement. At this point, she didn't think he would be able to speak without being rude.

"Couldn't you have called me during a normal hour?"

"My audition is on Friday," he said, as if that was any sort of excuse for his behavior. "I still have to read the other two books by then."

"Wait, I'm sorry," Parker interjects with a mean laugh, pausing to pinch the bridge of her nose. "Have you been up all-night reading?"

"You could sound a little less judgmental about it," he snarks. "I do read, you know. Bad scripts and the like."

She huffs. Not quite a laugh, but not just an expression either. It's a little hard to take anything serious when she's sleep-deprived and delirious. And, certainly, he can't be serious. That's her justification for giving up, anyway. "Okay, alright, fine. Which book did you finish?"

"Contact."

"That's a good one to start with," Parker murmurs, shifting on her mattress so she can cradle her PillowPet.

It has lost of all of its stuffing, an eye, and any joy it once had, but the penguin was a gift from Colt that she can't convince herself to trash. It mirrors her frown.

"No, not a good one. I didn't understand it at all."

"What didn't you understand?"

"Any of it, all of it. Why the hell did you tell me that Dune was too complicated and then hand me this shit?" he complains. There's something odd in his tone though. Something she can hear creeping through the syllables somewhere between annoyed and confused that reminds her of their conversation weeks prior at Gail's—you don't even sound like yourself, she had said. It's only now that she realizes he hadn't sounded like himself because he was doubting himself, which was the most un-like Tom Ryder thing anyone could ever do. She frowns at the thought as he continues. "It's all about math and pi and something called a transcendental number. I should have just watched Altered Carbon."

Parker sighs. "You're getting yourself all worked up over things that don't matter."

"Don't matter? It's all the book fucking talks about!"

"That's sci-fi," she says. And while it's a piss poor excuse, it's the truth. A moment later and Parker realizes that if he really had never read anything sci-fi before, he likely wouldn't realize the rules of reading it. Sighing, she takes some pity on him to explain, "okay, look. You know when you watch an action film and there's some ridiculous sequence that makes no sense; like when the ground is crumbling beneath their feet and the character jumps at the last second and is totally okay?"

"Like in the Fast and the Furious."

"Literally every single scene in those movies."

"Okay...?"

"Right, well, you watch those scenes and tell yourself not to take them seriously. They exist because it's an action movie, right? It doesn't have to be realistic."

"Sure," he agreed, but she could tell he still wasn't getting the point.

"It's the same thing when you're reading sci-fi. Okay? All the math and theoretical physics and calculations they do—whatever it is—they throw that stuff in there to build up a universe that feels real. The audience doesn't have to understand quantum mechanics to know that Chris Pine can fly a really big spaceship in Star Trek."

"You really have a hard-on for Chris Pine, huh?"

Parker ignored his comment entirely, barreling on. "The point of the book is not that the audience is stupid and needs to take some math classes even if that's how it feels sometimes. The point is that Ellie is a genius that no one else understands or believes in. When she talks about transcendental numbers and you have no idea what she means, that's exactly how the other characters in the book feel. They don't believe her because they don't understand her."

"So, it's... like an attempt to make the audience sympathize with her but also so the author can explain how everything happens."

Parker smiles. "Right."

"That's stupid," he says, and her smile immediately disappears behind a groan. "I just don' think the author needed to spend so much time trying to sound smart."

"It's a book about interstellar travel and the existence of intelligent life," she deadpans. "It's supposed to sound smart."

Tom mulls that over, and while he does so, Parker shifts once more in bed. The red numbers blink at her are only going up, but now that her heart rate has returned to a normal level, she finds it's far from the worst conversation she's had with Tom. Especially since she gets to talk about one of her favorite books.

Even if he is an ass.

"This would have been better as a movie," he finally settles on. It's not a sophisticated opinion by any means, but it certainly is him.

"Actually, it was originally written to be a screenplay. The movie got cancelled, and Sagan adapted it into a book."

"Seriously?"

"Sure," she shrugs. She spares a glance towards her nightstand where a copy of the book lays in tatters from how often she has read it. "Ironic considering the book became so popular that it got a second movie deal a few years later."

"...you're telling me that I could have watched this instead of reading it after all?" he barks. But, well, his tone isn't so annoyed as it sounds impressed. Parker hears the taping of buttons on a remote, before he's yelling. "Jodie Foster! Seriously?"

She can't help it. Parker laughs. "It's not a bad movie, but the book is way better."

"I have to watch this now."

"I have a copy you can borrow if you don't want to rent it."

"It's three dollars. How poor are you, exactly?"

She scoffs, an eye roll that has become habit when talking to the prick even though he can't see it. Snootily, she tells him, "I just rolled my eyes at you, asshole. In case you were wondering."

A harrumph. "I do think I caught something from your bookstore. I've been sick all day. It's disgusting—it's making my mouth all dry and it practically ruined my breakfast. I couldn't even eat my avocado."

"First the cappuccino, and now the avocado. Is there anything you don't blame me for?"

The teasing got the exact reaction she wanted, and as Tom starts complaining on the other end of the line, Parker smothers a laugh into her penguin. "It was a flat white! And—"

"I'm going to hang up on you now," she sing-songed. "And fair warning: if you call me again before eight am, I'm going to post your phone number on Reddit. Gail can eat shit with her lawsuit."

"Don't you fucking—"

Parker finds a lot more satisfaction in hanging up on Tom Ryder the second time, and when the phone screen stays dark, she plops it down onto her nightstand with an amused hum. It's past three am now, something she will be regretting come morning.

Then again, it seemed that Tom Ryder was all about regrets.

Right?

----

"Do you think I'm cool?" Parker ponders two days later, a glance tossed to her brother as she idly tries on a pair of sunglasses that are in the shape of trout. They're overpriced, but she's also incredibly bored, and about five minutes away from throwing a toddler-style meltdown in the middle of the bait and tackle shop.

"Of course you're cool," he says as he models a rash guard that he's been trying on for the last half hour. He twists in the mirror, left and right, before giving himself two thumbs up. There's something dangerous about the way he grins at her. "You have me for a brother, after all. Coolest kid on the block. Always have been, always will be."

"Right. Didn't they call you Shitpants in high school?"

A passing employee coughs into their hand to hide their laugh, and Colt turns a bright red.

"She's totally joking. They didn't call me that, my nickname was something totally different," he calls after the retreating sales associate, always attempting to save face but never quite succeeding. A moment later and he's glaring at his sister. "That was one time, and it was an accident. The potato salad was—"

"Bad," Parker finishes for him with an eyeroll. "Yeah, I know. I've heard the story."

"Then why do you insist on bringing it back up all the time?" he hissed.

There isn't much activity in the oceanfront store beside the pair wandering from aisle to aisle. It's a small shack that they've frequented for years. Colt pretends to be good friends with the owner, and Parker never minds because there's a great lemonade stand right down the block. It's usually the first stop of the day when they decide to hang out on the beach. Just a place to buy ice and snacks before moving on to better things.

Which is good considering there being little to no airflow when sitting inside, and the radio seems to be on a constant loop of Justin Bieber in his pre-puberty phase. It's not so good, however, when they spend more than five minutes inside.

Today, it seems to be the first and final stop given how long they've been there. She feels her bones getting weary from all the pandering her brother has done, and she's starting to suspect that his reasons for picking her up that morning weren't as innocent as he initially claimed.

Deprived of breathable air and sleep, Parker isn't all too enthused when she props the kiosk sunglasses onto her head with a pleading look towards her brother. "Because I'm bored!" she whined, in a way that was far too little-sisterly like for someone her age. Decidedly though she doesn't care when he makes no move to leave. "I thought we were just going to buy some sunscreen before heading towards the point. That's what you said, anyway."

"We are!" he says, arms thrown wide in exasperation. Parker doesn't buy that for a second, however, and her brother folds under her stare. "Just... in a minute. I need a new rash guard. Maybe some new board shorts."

"You don't even surf."

"I... do," he argues, his head bobbing up and down as if trying to convince himself of such a bold statement. "It's just been a couple of—"

"Decades?"

"Years," he corrects her with a glare. "It's like riding a bike. You know. Probably."

"Just with water and waves and the possibility of drowning or death by shark."

"You're not helping."

She shrugs. "I never said I was here to help."

Colt's response is a melodramatic pout, pausing in his nervous shifting to wave a hand in her general direction. "Well, this would be a lot quicker if you just helped."

He punctuates the statement by performing a full spin for her, hands stuck out before realizing that's awkward. To fix that, he props them even more awkwardly on his hips, but it only makes him look like he's a Ken doll pretending to be a real person.

Parker elects to keep that to herself sensing his anxiety was getting dangerously close to his own toddler-style meltdown.

"What do you think of this? Cool? Not cool?" he continues on muttering, head bobbing in every direction as he smooths the material down over his puffed-up chest. It deflates just as quickly as he turns back to her to ask, "pink's cool, right? I'm going for a laidback look, you know. But not too laidback. Somewhere right in the middle."

Parker returns the sunglasses to the rotating stand before plopping onto a stack of buckets. He seems awfully concerned with this particular task all of the sudden, despite spending the last three years avoiding the idea altogether. Every time he was offered a chance to get back out on the water by one of his stunt buddies, he miraculously came up with an excuse not to.

It all feels weird. And when her brother got weird, there was usually a girl involved.

Ah.

"You told Jody you still surf, huh?" she puts two and two together.

His peacocking in the mirror stopped entirely. A wince. Then a smile. Then a wince again in a ball of pent-up nerves. "That's... maybe one of the—she doesn't—you don't have to hang around here while I try these on. Don't you have something better to be doing?"

"If I had literally anything better to be doing, I would be doing it."

"Okay, ouch."

Parker rolled her eyes at her brother's whining. But really, she didn't have anything better to be doing at the moment than hanging around while her brother tried to impress a girl.

Not to mention she liked this girl.

Sighing, she decided to throw him a bone. Because, what else would she be doing? Parker peered at the rack behind him for a moment before pointing to the top. "Try the blue one instead."

Colt glanced down at his chest with a frown. "But... Jody likes pink."

"Yes, but blue will match your eyes better. Make you look tanner."

"And make me harder to see if I start drowning," he huffed. But, after a moment of consideration, stripped off the pink rash guard to pull on the blue one. Always a fucking argument with him, she thought with a bemused eyeroll. Especially when a moment later, "oh, this one does look better..."

She laughed as he spun in the mirror, attempting to get a three-sixty perspective of the potential garment. Only for the moment to be interrupted by a buzzing in her back pocket.

You gotta get up, gotta get out, gotta get gone before...

Her phone's ringtone broke through her relative boredom, and as Colt ran a hand through his hair and squared his shoulders in the mirror, she plucked the device out of her back pocket.

"You really got to change that ringtone," he said half-heartedly.

Parker stuck her tongue out at him and swiveled on her bucket, so she now had a view of the empty beach outside. It wasn't even that early—nine in the morning—but this particular spot was far enough removed from LA that people didn't tend to populate it unless it was a holiday weekend.

Phone pressed to her ear, she answered with a casual, "hello?"

"Was it not possible for you to give me a book from this century to read?"

A smile teased her face, and Parker returned her attention to the sunglass rack at her side just for something to do. Testing on an oversized pair of cat-eye sunglasses, she asked, "who is this?"

"Jesus, just save my fucking contact in your phone, already."

"Why would I do that when you could just stop calling me to talk about books?" she mused, stifling a laugh when there was a load of huffing and cursing from the other end of the line. He deserved it, though. Especially after ruining her sleep the other night and practically giving her a heart attack. "There are reddit forums for that exact purpose, you know. Maybe you could ask the nerds what they think. Go right to the source."

"You're such an asshole."

"Mhm. Takes one to know one, right?"

"Earthlight isn't a movie, is it?" he barreled on. She could tell from his tone that he was annoyed, and selfishly, Parker hoped that she was ruining his morning coffee and avocado toast. "It'd be a short movie."

"No, not a movie. Could be, I guess. You feel like self-funding?"

"You're hilarious," he deadpanned, and through the phone line she could hear the distant whir of a coffee grinder working. Knowing Tom, the thing probably cost more than her car. "Maybe you should quit your little bookstore and go into stand-up comedy. Probably make more money doing that. Granted, you'd have to sacrifice your dignity, but you don't have much to start with, do you?"

Parker tutted, but the overwhelming failure of her bookstore came back to mind full force at the comment, and so rather than keep up the joke, she moved the conversation on. "So, you liked it?"

"Well don't go sounding too smug about it," he chastised. "I liked it better, but still not much. They're both so outdated."

"Too much science for you?"

"This author really fucking loves the technical bullshit just as much as the last one. Pricks, all of them."

"Arthur C. Clarke is a prick?" she snorted. That was definitely a viewpoint she had never heard before. Leave it to Tom to dislike one of the best sci-fi writes in history because he spent too much time writing, well, sci-fi. "That's a hot take. He cowrote 2001 you know."

"A Space Odyssey?" She hummed. There was rattling and banging noises—the image of a hungover Tom stumbling around his kitchen came to mind—before the sound of a milk frother cut across the line. She jerked her phone away from her ear with a wince. Muffled, his voice returned. "Alright, that's not a bad movie. I'll give him that."

"It's only one of the highest-rated films of the genre," she retorted dryly.

More banging continued on the phone and as Parker tried not to let him blow out her eardrum, a hissing sound of its own came from her end of the line. She glanced up at the airshaft above her warily, but, if the sweat pooling on her back was anything to go by, it wasn't working. She glanced around in search of the noise before a rubber pool toy bounced off of the back of her head.

"Hey," the hiss returned. Pool toy in hand, she turned to find her brother waving a hand at her. The blue rash guard had been replaced with a yellow one. Worse still, he was now wearing a matching bucket hat. He gestured to himself as if he hadn't just assaulted her with a whale shaped toy. "What about this?"

She covered the phone speaker with her hand. "What happened to the blue?"

"This one is on sale!"

"Jesus, Colt. No girl has ever been impressed by that logic."

"I—" he started, then paused, and frowned at his sister like she had just burst his bubble. She might have felt bad if she hadn't been brushing off his puppy-dog eyes for the entirety of her life. The lip wobble was a new touch, though. "...is that a no to the bucket hat too?"

Parker responded by chucking the toy back at him. It bounced off his chest with a squeak.

"Yeah, alright..." he muttered, shoulders drooping, as he snatched the hat off of his head. It left his hair sticking up in tufts.

She kept that to herself.

"—are you even listening to me right now?" Tom's voice crackled back to life. If the incredulous lilt of his voice was anything to go by, he was not used to being sidelined for other people nor did he like it. "Who the hell are you talking to?"

"There was a bucket hat situation I had to deal with."

"...are you with Colt right now?"

She laughed. First, at the fact that Tom Ryder equated a bucket hat with her brother. Second because he sounded so disgusted by the fact that she would willingly spend her Sunday morning's helping her brother shop for bucket hats.

"You mean my brother?" she corrected.

"Did you tell him that I'm auditioning for a sci-fi roll? What does he think about it?"

"Why the hell would I tell him I'm talking to you?" she asked, echoing his sentiments from their last phone call. Parker was only teasing though, while she was pretty sure Tom had meant to be mean. Regardless, she moved on as she stood from the bucket to stretch out the kinks in her legs. "A bucket hat is a bad idea, right?"

"Is this seriously more important than what I want to talk about?"

"This may come as a surprise to you, but my world doesn't revolve around things that you want to talk about," she explained exasperatedly. Not necessarily because of what he said, but because she was fairly confident that he actually believed those sentiments. Worse still, she bet no one had ever told him that before. "Particularly not at two in the morning—thanks for that by the way. My roommate is pissed at me for waking her up."

A pause. Then, "you still have a roommate? How old are you?"

"I was serious about posting your phone number online you know," she threatened idly.

Colt disappeared into the changing booth, and Parker slowly started perusing the now abandoned hat rack. Despite her disapproval, she was bored. Plus, it actually had a fairly impressive selection.

Plopping an oversized sunhat atop her head, she ignored his insult to press on more important matters. "But seriously. Bucket hats. They're out of style, right?"

"Bucket hats have never been in style."

"Fashion is all made up anyway."

"That's just what poor people say who can't afford actual fashion."

She tutted, scrunching her nose up. Derisively, she asked, "did Gail tell you that?"

"Alright, that's it. I'm hanging up."

"It was a joke—!"

Joke or not, the dial tone was the only response that she got from Tom. She stared at the phone in her hand for a moment before huffing.

So that's what that feels like, she thought.

Something bright and ugly popped into her line of vision, and Parker glanced in the mirror to find her brother sporting a cheetah print body suit paired with a trucker hat that said Wine Made Me Do It in big, cursive lettering.

"Now, not to step on any middle-aged ladies' toes, but this is fashion," he clapped his hands with a goofy grin on his face. He gestured to the hat with a crooked thumb. "Get it? Two dollars!"

Parker laughed; couldn't not even if she wanted to.

Her brother was so innocent and idiotic and awful that while she once used to be embarrassed in public by him, now she just appreciated the fact that he was, always, unashamedly himself.

"Here, wait," she poked her tongue out of the side of her mouth while angling her camera at him. "Say cheese."

"Asiago," he cooed, making a Blue Steel type face that looked ridiculous when paired with his clothes.

The picture was even better, and Parker felt tears gathering in her eyes as they giggled. The employee from earlier shot them an annoyed look, but he was promptly ignored. If she didn't care about Tom Ryder's opinion, she certainly didn't care about his.

"That was good, right?"

"Oh, definitely. Jody won't know what hit her," she teased. Colt nodded, looking all too smug with himself, despite the fact that she was joking.

This smug version of himself reminded her of someone else that he looked a whole lot like.

An idea struck Parker, and as Colt started putting back the clothes where he found them, she quickly saved Tom's number in her phone before attaching the picture to the contact. Parker hesitated when she saw his name typed out.

Asshole, she typed in big letters. It was funny for half a second, though, before she realized it didn't quite feel right.

She deleted his name. Thought about it. Then replaced it with nothing more than a simple puking face emoji.

"Are you getting that?" Colt asked, drawing her from her reverie, and when she glanced up, she remembered that she was still wearing the ridiculous sunhat. "Because, you know... I'm not so sure that's something a cool person would wear."

Parker shoved her brother towards the cash register with a laugh.

They left the store with a blue rash guard, a pair of sunglasses, and matching bucket hats.

Twenty minutes later they realized they had forgotten to get sunscreen.

---

Paker had heard a lot of stupid and surprising things in her life; things that were so shockingly idiotic that she often wondered if they had been spoken as a joke. Most of the things on that list were quoted from her brother; a man she loved, but that didn't entirely think before he spoke.

When they were kids, he had argued that fish didn't need oxygen to survive. That's why they live under water, dummy, he had said with far too much confidence that she, younger and far less educated, could only blink at him. Then there was the time in his twenties that Colt had brought up the topic of furries at the dinner table in front of their grandparents. They're not, like, really having sex... are they? he had asked while trying to figure out what costume part would go where if they did do the dirty. And of course, there was the infamous baking soda as a cure all for wounds debate, but she tried to block out the sound of his skin literally sizzling as he screamed.

Tom, in the short time that she had known him, had also said some pretty shocking things that wound up on the list. He was, after all, an unapologetic asshole/idiot that didn't care if the world was flat or round so long as it revolved around him.

But out of shocking thing she had ever heard, it was fifteen-year-old California born and bred girl that topped the list.

"I want a job," Melissa proclaimed.

Parker's pen scratched an ugly line across her poor excuse of an accounting notebook as she glanced up wildly, big eyes blinking slow and dumb, as static hummed in between her ears.

"...what?"

"I want to apply for a job," she reiterated.

The bookstore was empty save for a pair of retirees that were slowly perusing her small selection of bird watching books. An oversized fly buzzed overhead, whizzing an uneven path between the two, as an irritable car stuck in traffic laid on the horn outside.

"Like—like here?" Parker asked. There was nothing fun or young or hip about her store. Just dusty bookshelves, a musty smell she could not get rid of no matter how many Bath and Body Works' scent infusers she plugged into the corner, and a ratty reading chair that had a Melissa-sized depression in the middle. She arched a brow. "You want to work... here. In my bookstore."

Melissa rolled her eyes, shrugging. Duh, the gesture said.

"Yeah, sure, obviously," Parker hummed, despite the fact that there was nothing yeah, sure, or obvious about the current conversation. Specifically given that Melissa, on more than occasion, had complained that her store was boring. "Just... why?"

"I need money."

"Suuuuure," she drew out the syllable, wooden stool creaking as she shifted in her seat behind the register. "But wouldn't you prefer to work somewhere a little more, er, fun?"

"This place is plenty fun."

The fly from earlier buzzed between them before smacking into the windowpane. It spiraled to the floor with a depressing zzzz.

Parker raised a second brow.

Melissa, in response, threw her hands up with a huff. "Okay, so, maybe I've been rejected from Jamba Juice and Target already. Which is so, totally crazy."

"That is crazy because I thought Jamba Juice went out of business—"

"And I can get my driver's permit in three months, and I want to get my license as soon as possible. But there's no way that I'm going to have Mom drive me everywhere, so I need to get a car. And to get a car I need to be able to afford a car—which, like, the economy is awful right now if you didn't know—so I need a job. Mom and Dad said they'll match whatever money I can put towards it. And as of today, that is a fat zero."

Woes of teenage girls, Parker thought.

"That's nice of them," she said instead. Not that she envied a teenager in the twenty-first century, but for her sixteenth birthday she had been given a bike. Not even a new one. It had been Colt's old one that he outgrew, and it still had flame stickers and duck tape wrapped all around it. "But, seriously, there has to be at least one other place a kid your age would want to work."

Melissa, having been slowly circling around the center of the room, paused in her ambling to cast Parker a suspicious look. "Do you not want me to work here or something?"

"No, of course I would want you to work here—"

"Great!"

"—but I have no money. Why do you think I'm the only employee here?"

Melissa considered that. "I just always assumed you were a little uptight and didn't like other people messing with your shelves."

"Uptight?" she cried. "Why does everyone keep calling me that?"

But Melissa didn't seem to notice that she had just quoted her celebrity crush, and so she instead turned her attention to the bookstore. She cast a critical eye over everything; though there was no smoke, Parker could smell the wheels turning between her ears, and slumped further onto the counter in preparation for what was to come.

"Don't get me wrong, Park, I love your store," she started. "But it could definitely use some updating."

"Updating?" she deadpanned.

"Some new paint for starters. I think it would be so cute if you painted it, um, maybe a soft blue. Then you could paint the bookshelves in different colors—pastels, definitely—and even some flowers here and there wouldn't hurt."

Parker made a face. Pastels weren't really her thing. "You want to paint the shelves?"

"It's just so brown."

"The natural color of wood, yes."

Melissa rolled her eyes, and with a waft of Vanilla perfume, trotted behind the front desk to examine the string of posters tacked onto the wall. Most of them were salvages from the dollar store, and while Parker thought they gave the store some character, Melissa clearly didn't agree. "These totally need to go too."

"Excuse me—"

"You could still keep them," she huffed half-heartedly. Clearly, she wasn't sold on the idea, but Parker would be damned if she pitched her Jane Austen posters based on the opinion of a teenager. "Just cut them down to a smaller size, put them in some picture frames—you can get them super cheap at the thrift store—and they'll make it look less packrat-like and more eclectic."

Parker glared, an argument on the tip of her tongue.

But, well, when she thought about it, it wasn't such a bad idea. And, well, maybe giving the store a new coat of paint wasn't either. It still looked like it had when she bought it from Larry. She had spent so much money on the loan payment, that she never considered really updating the place—mostly because, duh, she had no money—but paint and some dollar store frames weren't so expensive.

"How do you know all of this?" she asked with a quizzical look.

Melissa smiled, phone waved in hand as she tossed a plait of perfectly curled hair over her shoulder. "I spend a lot of time on Pinterest. What this place needs is a total cottage-core makeover."

"That sounds so made-up."

The girl frowned. "Well, duh. Everything is made up."

Parker opened her mouth, thought it through, and then promptly snapped her mouth shut. When did kids become so philosophical?

"So," said kid leaned onto the front counter with a conniving smile. She was a pretty girl with a clear complexion, bright white teeth beneath blue braces, and a deep closest of cute, but age-appropriate clothing. When she wiggled her eyebrows, Parker couldn't help but notice how well shaped they were. "Can I have a job?"

It was a tempting offer...

She glanced at the balancing worksheet she was doing, scores of numbers and ugly handwriting sprawled across her notebook, before taking a proper look at her empty storefront.

"I'll... have to think about it," she finally hedged.

Melissa's shoulders sank in disappointment.

"I don't have a ton of money right now," she explained, not at all liking how sad she looked. Colt's puppy dog expression had done nothing to prepare her for Melissa Abernathy's professional one. "So, I'll need to look things over first."

"But...?"

A sigh. "Are you free on Sundays?"

"I thought you were closed on Sundays?"

"I am," Parker nodded. "Which means it's about the only day of the week that I could try to paint this place. If you're serious about wanting a job and wanting to help, I'll consider bringing you in on the weekends to start helping me renovate."

A grin broke out on the girl's face, and she started bouncing on her toes. "Really?"

"Just temporarily," Parker threatened with her index finger. She wasn't sure how much was being heard and how much was going over the girl's head, however, and suddenly this was all feeling like a bad idea. "You can help me paint and decorate, and then I'll look at my finances."

"And you'll hire me?"

"If I can afford it, then... yes, we could work something out."

"Yes!"

"Just a few shifts a week!"

"That's perfect."

"And I'm not paying more than minimum wage."

"Totally fair. This rocks!"

"I said if—"

Melissa was already on her phone, texting and typing away as she bounced around. Parker felt a migraine start whirring between her temples, but—well—the kid was so excited that she couldn't feel too miserable about her decision. Tourist traffic was dying down as the season's changed, and she really needed to do something if she still wanted to be in business come the new year.

There was the sound of a camera clicking, and Melissa grinned from her corner of the room. "Oh my god, Park, you're so not going to regret this. We could totally do a beachy palette—blues and greens and, oh, orange—throw some rugs down, add some little details to the bottom of the shelves that you have to look for to see. Like easter egg, stuff. Oh, this is so exciting! I'm going to get Miranda and Abby to come, they have a great eye for detail."

She watched Melissa disappear down the MYSTERY aisle, all the while chatting to whoever she had already gotten on the phone.

Parker steepled her head between her hands with a sigh.

But, well, the enthusiasm was contagious, and after a moment she was laughing to herself. Maybe a fresh coat of paint would cheer her up.

Speaking of, how much did paint cost?

She was in the middle of a google search when her phone started to ring. The caller ID only showed an emoji and a picture of her brother modeling a ridiculous outfit, and she let out a childish snort in response.

A small smile in place, she answered. "Three books in a week. I have to say that I am a little impressed."

"Hm. I'm impressed you finally saved my contact. I was starting to think that basic technology was beyond your skill set."

"Hardy, har, har," she deadpanned, rolling her eyes. Melissa was somewhere in the back of store now, likely scaring off her only customers, and she decided to give up on her accounting for the day. Twisting in her seat so she was watching the street outside, she propped her elbow on her knee. "What did you think of Nemesis?"

He seemed hesitant to answer. "I... liked it."

Parker grinned. "Oh, you did, did you?"

A sound halfway between a groan and a whine. "You're fucking infuriating, you know that?"

"For recommending you good books?"

"You don't have to be so smug about it."

"I'm not smug," she said smugly.

He scoffed, and Parker couldn't help but grin even further. The idea that Tom Ryder, pain in her ass, was admitting that he liked her recommendation was the metaphorical cherry on the top of her cake. Even better, she got to be smug to him about something.

Parker continued on to say, "I guess I'm just happy that I recommended something you like. Especially since I didn't think you liked anything other than looking in a mirror, hair gel, and hot lattes."

"For fuck's sake, it was a flat white, and it was one time."

"Was it?" she teased, enjoying the conversation far more than she should be. This was the asshole that drove her brother insane every day at work, after all. But then again, what Colt didn't know, wouldn't hurt him. "You're just so memorable, I guess. Can't stop thinking about it."

"I would hope I'm memorable," he shot back, a whole lot of huffing and puffing from his side of the line that didn't fit the whole "perfect human being" sort of vibe he tried so desperately hard to give off. A dog barked in the distance. A second, more put-off and annoyed huff argued back. "Putain, calme-toi, Jean Claude."

Parker curled an eyebrow, impressed. "Was that French?"

"Impressed?" he said, taking a page out of her book to sound unnecessarily smug.

Catching a glimpse of her reflection in the window—a stupid smile in place, lip pulled between two teeth, eyes twinkling in a way that didn't suit the sleep-deprived bags beneath them—Parker straightened in her seat. "Hardly. It's an ugly language," she said, overcorrecting just a little by insulting what some considered to be the language of love. Not her best move. "Moreso wondering why you're imposing a foreign language on your dog. Seems cruel."

"He's French," Tom said, certainly rolling his eyes.

"Ooh, a French bulldog? I love those."

Something about the insinuation that Tom Ryder would own a bulldog managed to insult him, and she heard the scorn in his voice when he responded with a scathing, "I would never own a fucking bulldog. They can't breathe and can't run thanks to decades of improper inbreeding. What use are they?"

"...they're cute?"

She heard him mutter something in French, before another bark—as if his dog, the French bastard, was agreeing with whatever complaint he made against her—and Parker was so elegantly reminded of what a pain in the ass he could be.

Chin in hand, she rolled her eyes. "You want to tell me about the book or not?"

There was noise from his side of the line; music in the background kicked up, the sound of dog food being slung into a metal bowl, a faucet running, before things quieted down a bit. "I thought the idea of moon colonization is a little overplayed, plus there's the whole bit about the telepathic organism that is so fucking stupid," he said.

Despite his tone though, somehow Parker just knew that he was only complaining so he had something to complain about. She didn't wonder how she knew that.

"The book is from the eighties. I don't think moon colonization was overplayed when he wrote it," she protested anyway, sipping on her watered-down cold brew as she did so. "And the bit about the organism is fascinating to me. Everyone always writes about ET-style aliens, but I thought it was brilliant of Asimov to create something new."

"Brilliant is what I do. Not writing a short story about a family being separated in space," he grumbled. A moment later, "you're awfully hot on these writers. You've never called me brilliant before." Sore about it, obviously.

"That's not true. I think you're brilliantly self-centered and egotistical."

"Elle pense qu’elle est une comédienne, celle-ci," he muttered, much to her English-speaking chagrin. He switched back to say, "I'm the reason your brother has a career, you know. You could give me a little credit."

"Are you?" she mused, knowing it was a load of horseshit. Self-centered and egotistical horseshit that only further proved her point. "Interesting. I thought he introduced you to Gail."

A moment of silence. "He told you that?"

"We tell each other everything," she said. Though, that wasn't exactly true, was it? "Well, mostly everything, anyway."

"Hm. I could argue that's breaking our nondisclosure agreement. I could probably fire him for it, you know," he threatened, idly, though, and without any real heat to his words. There was the sound of water running in the background, and Parker really hoped that he was spontaneously washing some dishes and not talking to her while in the shower.

"Please. We both know that Colt is the best stunt-man out there. And you only work with the best, right?"

His lack of response proved that she was right; Colt was the best at his job, and he just so happened to look a whole lot like Tom Ryder. Not to mention that Tom's entire career was built around bragging how good he was, how talented the people he worked with were, how he didn't settle for anything but excellence. In fact, Parker was half-sure she could break Ryder's nose and the only backlash Colt would get would be a whole lot of bitching.

Granted, she might get arrested, but at least her brother would be relatively fine.

"When's the audition, anyway?" she asked just to be nosy.

"Tomorrow morning."

Parker raised a brow, idly watching as some idiot failed to parallel park out front. "Cutting it a little close, huh?"

"I'm Tom Ryder," he said, in his typical sense of self-importance that she loathed. Though, this time, Parker didn't loathe it as much as she found it amusing. "I know what I'm doing and don't need your fucking opinion about it."

"Do you have that written on a motivational poster somewhere?"

"No," he said immediately. A little too quickly, in her opinion, and Parker narrowed her eyes with a sneaking suspicion that his house was just plastered with photos of himself. "Whatever. I have to go. Unlike you I don't just have all day to talk."

She scoffed incredulously, reminding him that, "you called me!"

Unsurprisingly, however, he didn't care. "I need to practice some more before the audition. Unless you want me to fail."

"I didn't think Tom Ryder could fail."

"Yeah, well," he hesitated for a moment, all that bravado he'd been displaying moments earlier gone in a flash. Parker wondered if he ever talked to anyone without it, and if he didn't, then what sort of friends he had in his life. He cleared his throat. "It's a big deal. Not just for me, but Colt too. This would be our biggest movie yet. Some extra practice doesn't hurt anyone."

Pride swelled in her chest; her brother had always impressed her with how he built his own career, moving to LA without knowing anyone and not leaving until he accomplished what he wanted. And while she was his biggest fan—number one, as she liked to joke—his success was his alone, not Tom's.

Still, without Tom it may have been less consistent, and without Colt, Tom may have been stuck doing rom coms. Parker kept that to herself.

Instead, she said, almost sensing that he needed to hear it, "yeah, well, I know you don't need it or anything, but—you know—good luck on the audition. I think you'd be really good in a sci-fi film. Despite what Gail seems to think, I might actually want to, er, see that movie. Pirated, of course. I don't go to the theaters for just any asshole."

The sound of water cut off, and for a long moment it was silent. Then, a scoff. "You're right," he said. "I don't need it."

Parker hummed, rolling her eyes, and biting back a smile at his blatant audacity. Gail was right about one thing; there was no one in this world quite like him. Maybe that was a good thing, too.

"Sure. You being Tom Ryder, and all. Guess you're a shoo-in, huh?"

"Well," he cleared his throat, "I do have the blonde hair and blue eyes."

A laugh bubbled up her throat, and she only managed to keep it to herself when the door jingled with the sound of new customers. A pair of teen girls strode inside with sweet, but nonplussed looks on their faces, and mindlessly Parker waved them towards the back where Melissa had disappeared to.

Watching them amble with her phone tucked against her shoulder, she asked, "did you just make a joke? Forget sci-fi, someone should call SNL right now and get you an audition with them."

"You're just as bad as Colt. You know that?"

"And now you're just handing out compliments," she teased. He laughed in response, wasn't quite quick enough to disguise it as a huff or a cough, and Parker bit her lip to keep from smugly grinning like a total idiot. "Just don't forget to send me that agent's fee when you get the part. I accept checks and DutchBros gift cards."

"Jesus Christ, you're pathetic."

"Am I? Because I just so happen to be popular enough to have the one and only Tom Ryder calling me three times in one week."

"Good-fucking-bye, smartass."

The sound of a dial tone came a second later, and when Parker glanced at her screen she was greeted with her own reflection. She didn't mind that he hung up on her. If anything, she almost wished that he had more time to talk. If only because he seemed to be in a rare, friendly mood.

Not because she almost actually liked talking to him. Asshole-ish tendencies notwithstanding.

"What are you smiling about?"

Parker turned to find Melissa and her two friends staring warily at her across the counter. Clearing her throat, she set her phone aside with pink cheeks.

"Er, nothing."

She harrumphed. Teenagers had never seemed so intimidating before, and with a self-conscious smile, Parker smoothed her hair down as subtly as she could.

"Need something?"

"Do you have any John Green books?" one of the girls asked.

Parker nodded, shaking off the conversation to switch into work mode, and smiled a little more genuinely at them all as she stood. "Sure, loads. Come on, I'll show you," she waved them after her, and as they browsed, they filled her in on what paint colors they thought would look best.

Melissa, she mused two hours later with disheveled hair, sweat-tacked curls on her neck, a stack of notes in one hand, and a long email chain of Pinterest posts on her phone, could rule the world one day.

She just needed a car first.

#plot bunny #the fall guy #tom ryder #original female character #tom ryder x ofc #tom ryder imagine #series?

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greetingfromthedead · 1 year ago

Text

Ghost of You (SingleDad!Vash x Dead!F!Reader)

Plot: Your death haunts Vash for years, filling his dreams with nightmares, but for his twins, he will put on a brave face and do whatever it takes to make their childhood a happy one.

Series: Not a series per se, but a continuation of Stormy Night

Pairing: SingleDad!Vash x Dead!F!Reader

Raiting: Everyone

Tags: post-Trimax (minor spoilers), no use of y/n, death, angst, funeral, widow Vash, single father Vash, kids, childcare

Word count: 3.6k

Author's Note: Seems like my only goal in life is making @biancalattei cry. But you brought it on yourself. This is a touch more lighthearted than the previous one, but still, it's mostly pain and should be enjoyed with a healthy side of sad music. that's just my opinion.

"Hold on. Just hold on. You will meet the babies. You have to. We have our whole lives ahead of us. We will be a family. We will see them grow up. You and I will get through this together. Just hold on." Vash's voice has lowered to a whisper as he presses his face into your hair. "We will make it through this storm."

This can't be happening. He clutches you tightly, his arms wrapped around your unmoving body. The moment your grasp on his human hand loosened, he knew that something was terribly wrong, so he did all he knew and pulled you closer. It is just the two of you in the empty room. Vash's ears refuse to hear the voices of the nurse and midwife; the cries of the children are drowned out too. The howling of the wind is nothing more than a faint whisper. The only thing he can hear is the pounding of his heart.

"They will run around the house, and we will play hide and seek until the sun goes down," he continues to whisper to you, the words slurring together where sobs want to escape. "Our home will be filled with laughter and sunlight. And we will live happily ever after. We will see to it that they never have to feel the hardships we did. You are my beautiful wife. I love you more than words can express. You have to hold on."

Vash repeats the same things over and over again, begging you to stay with him, to hold on for a moment longer. He holds on to hope until the moment the midwife speaks the truth, which he couldn't accept. You are gone. You never got to meet your children, the twin babies you had looked forward to meeting all these months. Anything he might try to say get drowned out by his sobs. Tears stream down Vash's face as he presses his cheek against the top of your head. The only sound in the room is his heart-wrenching cries of grief. He rocks back and forth, still clutching your lifeless body and holding you in his embrace. This cannot be true. How could you be gone? This has to be a lie, an illusion, a nightmare.

Vash cried in disbelief and grief. He hoped that dawn would never come because he is incapable of facing the rest of his life without you, no matter how long or short that might be. If the day breaks, it would mean that tomorrow has arrived, and he would have to confront reality without you by his side. He knows that he can't bear that thought. The screaming sobs scratch his throat and echo throughout the clinic, a haunting reminder of the void you left behind.

Vash suddenly sits up in bed, covered in sweat, and he wipes the tears from his face. It's still dark outside, and in a way, he is glad for the hungry cries of the babies in the other room, for they woke him up from the nightmare that, sadly, is a replaying memory. He swings his legs over the edge of the mattress and pushes himself up with a grunt. He is alone in the house with the twins. Luida went back to Home to take advantage of the cold sleep, and Milly and Livio returned to their own house too. They still visit during the day to make sure everything is alright and to help out with the twins, but Vash has now completely stepped into the roles of both mother and father.

He is still half asleep as he drags himself to the kitchen to prepare the milk bottles for the twins. The cries make his gut twist painfully, but he unfortunately only has two arms and can't comfort both of the twins at the same time while preparing their meal. He tries to hurry and finally manages to settle into the recliner with both the children to feed them. He thinks back to before he lost his powers, before his hair turned raven. Back then, he was able to do everything effortlessly, and while he got tired, he didn't get as exhausted as he does now. The hunger didn't hurt him as much either, and he barely noticed the sticky heat. Being truly human is tiring, but he has no choice but to brave through it and keep pushing forward, both for the children and you.

Things have settled into a rhythm; the first few months were the hardest, but now the twins just need to be fed once during the night. Vash tries to remember what he and his brother were like at that age; they grew up rapidly, and while he admired Rem for raising two kids by herself, he realized just how different human babies are. He was already speaking at that age and walked around by himself, while there was a long way to go until his darlings will start to crawl.

The little girl settles nicely into the crib after the diaper change, but the boy remains fussy. Vash holds him gently, with the baby's head on his bare shoulder. He bounces the twin lightly and taps on his back, but the cries don't stop. Vash paces around the room, shushing the child to settle him down, but nothing seems to be working. Suddenly, he hears laughter from the crib under the window. Vash goes closer to look at the little girl, and as he turns to her, the boy quiets down. The baby on her back still giggles, looks past Vash to the wall behind him, and reaches out her hands. The baby in his arms starts giggling too, but as he turns to look behind him, there is nothing but a chest of drawers filled with baby stuff. There are no toys or funny shadows in sight. As he keeps looking, the boy gets fussy again, and Vash carefully turns him around. He calms down immediately.

"What is going on?" Vash mumbles to himself as he settles the baby into his crib. Both seem content and start to yawn soon after. Their eyes largely remain fixed on something on top of the piece of furniture.

Is that really you? Part of him denies the possibility loudly. You don't look like that. Your skin is vibrant, your eyes are bright, and your smile warms his heart. The woman in the coffin resembles you, but her eyes are closed, her expression is neutral, and her skin is dull. He was never supposed to see a sight like this. You were supposed to outlive him in every scenario. How can he bury his beloved wife? How can he accept that once the lid is placed over your resting body, you will be lowered into a deep and dark grave, and he will never lay eyes on you again?

He keeps his blurry gaze on you, as if waiting for a miracle. Vash isn't sure if he has stopped crying since the day at the clinic. He doesn't see the crowd of mourners around him. It is just him and the coffin you lay in. He dreads the moment he has to say goodbye. The pain of loss feels like a physical weight on his shoulders; it wants to press him down to the ground and keep him there forever. Would it be so wrong to lay down beside you and face the future together? He doesn't want to be left behind. He knows he can't do that. Not here, not now.

One by one, faceless people stop in front of him. They shake his hand, they pat his shoulder, and they hug him gently, but he doesn't feel any of it. He is just numb with sorrow; it doesn't feel real. Their condolences fall on deaf ears, and he can't even truly bring himself to turn away his gaze from your body, lying there so still. He is lost in a sea of grief and disbelief. He watches as the people move to you, each one offering you tender words and well wishes as they honor your life.

Vash would remain standing there for the rest of his life, unable to move a single inch, if a hand didn't push him forward. It was Brad, signaling to him that it was time. Vash takes careful steps forward to stand beside the simple metal coffin. You lay in it, surrounded by white fabric, peaceful and unmoving. Vash takes a deep breath to steady himself before reaching out to touch your cold hand. The feeling sends a shiver down his spine, a stark reminder of your absence. As he stands there, memories flood his mind, each one a bittersweet reminder of the love and laughter you shared.

"If only I could have you back. I wish I could have you until I can put into words how much you mean to me. How much I love you. You would live forever because there are no such words. You were sunshine, and now there is only darkness. I couldn't save you. You were my everything." Vash can't hold back the tears anymore, and a sob escapes him. He wipes his face into the black fabric of his sleeve. The twin suns set on the scene, painting the sky with hues of red and orange. As dusk creeps near, candles light among the mourners, casting a warm glow over the desert sand.

"I never thought this day would come," Vash continues quietly as he clutches your hand, "where I have to lay you to rest. I thought you would be here forever, like the moons and the stars, a guiding light even in the darkest of nights. You will never be forgotten, and you will take my heart with you on this long journey. It is so very hard to say it, but I must." He sobs again, frantically wiping away the tears and snot. "This is our final goodbye. And for one last time, I get to tell you: I love you."

Vash bows down and presses his lips against your forehead, where he has left a million kisses before. As he stands up, he takes a deep breath and turns away, his heart heavy with the weight of his words. With one last look over his shoulder, he walks away, leaving behind memories that will forever linger in his soul. As he stands among the others, his hands shake too much to hold on to a candle; instead, he uses them to bury his face, muffling the sobs that press out of his spasming lungs. Someone holds him, their arm around his back, but he does not know who. He barely sees the lid being placed on your coffin, sealing you away forever. The world has gone dark, and he is lost in his grief as you are lowered into the ground, never to return. Vash remains there even as the sand is piled on top of your grave and the people surround your mound with candles before leaving. The flames flicker in the darkness, casting long shadows on the desert landscape as Vash kneels before your grave and sobs, much like the day you died.

His hand is lifted, and something nuzzles into the crook of his elbow. He has to blink a few times to clear his eyes and see his daughter settle in against his side. She looks up as he shifts slightly, and pain flares in his heart as the face looking at him is so much like yours. He recognized you in your daughter the first time he looked at her, and the resemblance has only grown stronger over the last two years.

"Don't cry, daddy!" she says, pulling out a teddy she had brought with her. She throws it on Vash's chest before nuzzling more against his arm. Vash pulls her closer to his side.

"Daddy wasn't crying. He was just sweating." He lies, not wanting his kids to see him like this. . His heart aches at the thought of them worrying about him. He wipes his eyes quickly into his other hand, only to hear pattering feet approach the bed in the dark room. Without saying anything, the older twin climbs into bed and crawls closer to Vash. He settles in against his dad's other side, pulling a cat stuffy closer against his cheek.

"I seep wit daddy too!" he says, throwing an envious look at his sister over Vash's chest.

Another painful reminder of a person he wasn't able to save. As he looks at his young son, he can't help but see the face of his brother. He knows that in reality it is his face looking back at him, but still, the reminder is there, making his gut feel heavy.

"You should both be in bed, asleep." Vash says softly as he holds them both close.

"I wan seep here!" The little boy exclaims and nuzzles more into the warmth of his father's chest.

"Me too!" answers the other kid with a stare so resolute that there was no arguing. She looked so much like you, it was uncanny.

"Alright, just for tonight. You do have your own beds, and this is daddy's bed." He looks tenderly at his two kids, happy to be here in this moment with them. "But no tomfoolery! I mean it, you two. Close your eyes and go to sleep."

He tucks the twins in and leaves his protective arms around them, gently stroking their backs until they fall asleep. He remains awake for a little bit longer, thinking back to the bittersweet memories he has of you. It is hard to believe that this grief will ever truly go away. Every day, he thinks about you, missing you with every breath. He can only hope he does justice to you in his own life. He tries his best to raise the kids you brought into this world, hoping that they will grow up to be just as kind and loving as you were. He still feels guilt for how their lives began and how he nearly abandoned them completely in hopes of keeping them safe. He carries the weight of his mistakes, but he finds solace in the fact that your love continues to guide him, even in your absence. Despite the pain of losing you, he is determined to honor your memory by being the best parent he can be for your children.

He slipped into a dreamless slumber and woke a few hours later, when morning had arrived and filled the room with golden light. He looks over to the empty side of the bed where you used to lay, feeling a pang of sorrow in his heart, but the dark hair of the kid to his left caught his attention. The little boy turns in his sleep, and that's what woke him up in the first place. His peaceful expression brought a smile to his face. On the other side, his daughter uses his forearm as a pillow; her black locks look like a mess, and Vash already knows it will be a struggle to get that sorted out. She has the habit of hiding all the combs in hopes she won't have to brush her hair. One of the little ponytails is sticking up at a strange angle, and the other is barely holding on on the other side.

He has his little family, and while you aren't with them, you are still in his heart. He wonders if he should visit you today, take the kids with him, and say hello. He continues to contemplate the decision, knowing it could bring both happiness and heartache. The main question is if he can keep from sobbing right then and there; he wouldn't want to cry in front of the kids. His thoughts stray to breakfast just as his son lifts his head from his arm and rubs his eyes with his little fist. "Good morning," Vash says quietly as he smiles at his son, hoping to hide the pain inside.

On the other side, his little girl makes fussy sounds as she turns, still half asleep. Vash leans down to gently kiss the top of her head, knowing that he has to be strong for his children despite the turmoil in his heart.

It turns out to be a slow morning. It takes time for the kids to completely wake up, and even more time for Vash to negotiate with them to get the morning routine going. The prospect of pancakes is what gets them all out of bed. Vash gets the twins ready for the day to the best of his abilities, but the nightmares are taking a toll on him. He could lay back down and sleep for the whole day, but he knows his family needs him to keep going. After a quick nappy change and dressing the children, he leaves them to play in the living room, in his line of sight, where he stands in the kitchen preparing breakfast.

As usual, the play that begins rather gently quickly turns into roughhousing and loud laughter as the twins chase each other around for one reason or another. As the chaos escalates, he can't help but smile at their antics. This is how he imagined things to be—a house full of giggles and love. It is just missing you. He longs for the day when you'll join in on the fun and complete their little family, but he is well aware it will never come. There is a tiny part that still feels as if you could walk through the door at any second and make everything right again.

"Hey! No running in the kitchen!" Vash calls out a little sternly as the twins start to chase each other around the dining table. Vash is worried he might have overdone it with that tone of voice and will now have two screaming toddles on his hands, but to his surprise, the two babies come to him, trying to peer up onto the stove with wide, curious eyes. As they are too short to see anything interesting, they resort to playing peek-a-boo with each other, hiding behind Vash's legs. They both hold on to his pants tightly, and soon enough, hang off them. Vash is glad he wears his belt tight nowadays, or they would have fallen down long ago.

"Hey now, kids! Daddy is making pancakes on the hot stove! You shouldn't be playing here!" But the kids continue to dangle from his pants, giggling and swinging back and forth as they peek at each other. "You must be hungry. I will give you your plates if you let go."

Vash's negotiations fall through, and instead the twins cling on to his leg, using his feet as seats. Vash lets out a deep sigh and surrenders to his fate. He resigns himself to the fact that his children are as stubborn as you and him put together. They will never let go. So he twists around to the best of his abilities, reaching out the plate filled with pancakes to place on the table and pushing anything potentially dangerous farther away from the edge of the counter. He lifts his legs, one at a time, with the children still clinging on, and makes his way to the cabinet with the plates. As he sets their plates down, he can't help but smile at the sight of his children's determined faces. Despite the chaos, he wouldn't have it any other way.

With some bribing in the form of syrup and whipped cream, he settles the kids into their high chairs, where they start to fool around with the plates they were given before they see the stack of pancakes waiting for them on the table. Their little grabby hands immediately stretch out towards the treasure that lay just out of reach. Vash smiles as he gives the twins a knowing look, already anticipating the mayhem that would ensue once the pancakes were within their grasp. Predictably, breakfast is just as turbulent as it is most of the time, but this time it is more sticky on account of the syrup. The twins giggle with delight, thoroughly enjoying the mess they had created, but are not that thrilled by the prospect of a bath.

Vash's life is not easy. Despite the sweet moments, there are all the sleepless nights, the nightmares and worries, and two sugar-high toddlers running around the house. His home is filled with noise and life, despite the shadow of death looming in the dark corners. Not a day goes by where he doesn't wish he could share it all with you—the joys and heartaches. He longs for your presence to fill the void in his heart; he misses you with every breath he takes. Yet in some way, it feels like you never left, like you are still watching over them all, guiding them through life's challenges, and celebrating their victories. It would explain why the twins first words were "mama", despite them not meaning him. He takes comfort in knowing that your presence is still felt, even in your physical absence. So he continues to do what he can—his best.

Did you like this? Go check out my MASTERLIST and drop a follow for any and all future projects!

And if you feel like reading more of my dad!Vash, but want to recover from this trainwreck, then I have the perfect thing for you: Little Feet.

#I'll just leave this here and crawl back into my cave of misery #trigun #trigun maximum #fanfiction #fanfic #vash the stampede #humanoid typhoon #x reader #plant boi #writing #angst

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xxresi-rotxx · 1 year ago

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Vampire Leon pt 2

Disclaimer:: This is not proof-read, but I really wanted to get something out and get myself writing again and I've been thinking of continuing my Leon vampire series so here we are! I love all of you so much who read my stories and interact w/ my blog <3 I'm always down for conversation, ideas, and fics to read so always feel free to reach out<3 Much love xx

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Leon had never felt the feeling he was experiencing right now.

You came to his defense. You cared enough, for a monster man you barely spoke to, to cause what Leon would only describe as a scene amongst your other coworkers.

Were you just a caring person? Would you have done that for anyone?

He kind of doubted it, not that you weren't caring, but he's never heard you do that for anyone else; and if you did, he would have heard it.

He needed to find out more about you.

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You were sitting at your desk, head in your hands, replaying the whole scenario. You groaned and let your head sink a little further.

You didn't regret standing up for Leon, hell you couldn't have stopped yourself if you tried. But mouthing off to agents who ranked higher than you was never a good idea. You could only imagine what the repercussions would be.

Not like your job could get any worse though. You were stuck monitoring over rookie agents who were either too cocky or too cautious to ever get a mission worthwhile; making your job as dull as could be.

You wondered what agent helped Leon while he was in the field. Was the agent nice to him? After your interaction this afternoon you couldn't help but wonder if everyone treated him that way.

Maybe you should have sought him out. Tried a little harder to be more accessible. He probably could have used a friend given his situation. Then again, the thought of him thinking you were only interested in him because of his newfound condition made your gut wretch. Maybe things were better the way they were.

"Hey Wesson," you looked up at the man in your doorway only to roll your eyes a second later.

"That's not my name Doug."

"Commander wants ya", he said, giving you a quick wink as he walked away.

You sighed as you pushed your chair away from your desk, bracing yourself for whatever bullshit you were about to encounter.

The walk down to the commander's office wasn't a long walk, after all the whole organization you worked for was on the smaller side, but it did mean walking past the room you told your fellow agents off in earlier.

Peaking your head in you were pleased to find it empty, maybe for once they listened.

Reaching your commander's door, you knocked the back of your hand against the wooden frame three times before hearing the familiar gruff voice greet you.

"Enter agent"

The second you opened the door you could have sworn all of the oxygen left the room.

Standing to the left of your commander's desk was Leon.

Black tee shirt, cargo pants, and more guns than you thought were necessary seeing as he wasn't in the field, but him nonetheless.

"Are you going to come in agent, or would you like another minute?"

Fuck.

How long did you just stand there?!

You shut the door and entered the room fully, moving to stand in front of your commander's desk.

"I have a special task for you agent." Your commander started, before Leon promptly cut in.

"Sir," his voice sounds the same, you noted, "I think we already have our answer."

"Don't mind Wesson Leon, I already told you that wouldn't be a concern."

Wesson. Couldn't that damn nickname die already?

"Wesson?" Leon's voice trailed off at the end, his eyes switching their interest from your commander to you.

"The gun I carry." You said answering his unasked question without thinking.

Fuck. You always did speak before you were supposed to. While your commander might have minded, thankfully it looked like Leon did not.

"You don't carry a Beretta?" The standard for all of the other agents.

"I don't."

You could have sworn you saw the corners of Leon's mouth twitch up into a slight smile.

"Hence the nickname, she gave us all hell until we let her have her Smith & Wesson, seems fitting still." Your commander added.

You turned your attention back to your commander now, feeling too jittery not knowing what he called you here for, and why Leon was a part of it.

"What can I do for you sir?"

"It's come to my attention that Leon hasn't had an agent assigned to him for quite some time."

You nodded, waiting for him to continue.

"I'm assigning you to be that agent."

The room fell silent, surely there was more to this than just that?

"Dismissed Wes, you too Leon."

"Sir," Leon nodded before brushing past you and moving to open the door.

You nodded as well, turning to see Leon holding the door still waiting for you to exit.

Not a second after the door was closed Leon spoke up.

"You can get yourself reassigned; it won't affect your position-"

"Reassigned?"

"It's okay really, most people tend to be scare-"

"Scared?" you finished for him, "of what?"

"Me," he responded, his face set in a way you couldn't tell what he was thinking.

You laughed, a quick loud laugh that you wished stayed in your mouth but unfortunately made it through.

"I'm not scared of you Agent Kennedy."

"It's Leon, and your reaction upon seeing me would say otherwise."

Oh right, being frozen in the doorway. Good going dumbass.

"I was scared I hurt you," Leon's brows furrowed into a look of pure confusion, "I had an incident earlier today and well, I thought maybe the commander had gotten you involved and," you trailed off realizing if you went much further you'd have to elaborate on your incident, and you really didn't wanna do that.

"It doesn't matter, I just thought I had caught you up in something that I shouldn't have. But being afraid of you?" You made an effort to emphasize to Leon that you were looking him up & down. "I'm afraid you aren't as intimidating as you seem Leon."

Your point Would have been easier to make had he not been equipped with so many firearms, but you were pretty sure you got your point across nonetheless.

Leon's answering smirk told you enough.

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vgperson · 1 year ago

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What Did I Do In 2023?

Whatever I wanted, mostly.

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As I mentioned last year, my site now has an RSS feed with basically everything I've done back to 2020, so this will mainly be going over the same stuff from that, just with added context.

In January, I finally sat down and properly realized an idea for a short story I'd had sitting around for a while: From the Sidelines, about a fantasy RPG expedition going sideways. I remain very proud of it in both concept and execution, and hope people read it.

In February, Your Turn To Die was released on Steam Early Access, receiving character profiles and some bonus mini-episodes, adding two more later in the year.

After finishing From the Sidelines, I carried that momentum to revisit my Ut0p1a story series about funny computer animals. I'd always meant to continue it - and conclude it - but hadn't been satisfied with the ideas I had for it until totally rethinking them this year. In March, I posted the remaining stories one after another: Right to Code and Left to Code. I'm very proud of these as well. Also in March, Kenshi Yonezu released LADY. (Video, interview)

In April, Uri released the Data Book of the Strange Men Series, a big collection of the writing she's done on the games in the series, with a lot of new parts as well, all translated by me.

Then in May... uh, well, let's see. In April, Capcom released the Mega Man Battle Network Legacy Collection. I always adored the Battle Network games, and was initially excited that they finally did the thing... but by the time it came out, I was pretty disappointed by how, while you certainly couldn't call them low-effort ports, the effort didn't extend everywhere I thought it should, with the biggest offenders being the total absence of any "convenience features" except Buster Max Mode, the bad font, and the almost entirely untouched translations.

So, I ended up deciding I might as well just replay the originals, and that was a fun time (aside from the parts that were bad). Doing this, I couldn't help but notice how... turbulent the translations were, even if I'd always known they were less than ideal. I mean, the first two games just used periods for ellipses despite the tight character limits, then in BN3 they had an ellipsis character... but it's center-aligned, Japanese-style? Aside from the intro, which has normal ones? Gosh, somebody should fix that - it's simple enough to find and edit in YY-CHR. "JapanMan" is silly, too - I wonder if anybody made a patch for that? Wait, what do you mean there's just a tool to extract and insert text in all the Battle Network games including the Legacy Collection???

Thus began a journey that sort of occupied the rest of my year. First I did the BN3 Translation Revision, trying not to worry too much about cross-referencing the Japanese text unless something seemed wrong, so that I didn't spend too long on the project. Then I began to consider BN2, with its unfortunate "foreigner" text that would need some more significant reworking. I established more convenient tools for comparing with the Japanese script, and thus did a much more thorough job with it, releasing the BN2 Translation Revision in June (AKA Princess Pride Month).

Finally, after giving myself time to recover and actually finish replaying the series, I knew what I had to do to close things out. With the BN4 Translation Revision, you can finally play Battle Network 4 with a translation that isn't such a mess. Whether you'd want to is for you to decide, though if you can get over the structure, I don't think it's the worst game in the series by any means. (Oh, and in December I also updated the BN3 Revision to 1.1, doing a thorough pass with the methods I'd honed. But I think I'm pretty much good on MMBN translations now.)

Anyway, backtracking to other things that happened during my Battle Network haze... June had Kenshi Yonezu's Moongazing (video, interview), and July had Globe (video, interview, interview).

Last but not least, released in November, I translated Refind Self: The Personality Test Game, a short game from Lizardry (creator of 7 Days to End with You) with a fun concept.

----

Obviously I was right to have said "no promises" last year. But really, Your Turn To Die should get its final part on Steam sometime next year, maybe even early-ish in it. That's certainly the goal.

I'm also hoping to buckle down and finish one of my own games, but as usual, who knows how that'll pan out. Letting my whims carry me this year let me finally finish From the Sidelines and Ut0p1a, which was great, and it also led me down a Battle Network rabbit hole, which was... fine, but definitely for a narrower audience. I'd always like to get back to more free game translations and the like, too, but it takes effort to find things I'd want to translate. For now, I think my increasing desire to be able to let loose some of these original games I've been planning, and the stories in them, might come out on top.

#vgperson

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escapingrealtiylovinginsanity · 10 months ago

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Rewind, Remix, & Replay Jay & Kim 6x5

You can read the rest of the series here

This one is pretty short but it should hold you over. I’m so excited to write the next four chapters. I have big ideas! That being said it might just be one chapter next week.

The team had all gotten together for brunch. Trudy was celebrating her twenty-five years as a cop. Playing two truths and a lie was always fun and competitive when it was a table full of cops. “And go,” Trudy sat back in her seat waiting to see what the tables consensus was.

“Okay, Dickin’s don’t do Karaoke so that’s the lie.” Kevin is confident and Hailey points at him agreeing with his words. But Kim shakes her head dismissively thinking she knows her mentor better than that.

“No definitely not. It’s soccer. The woman hates moving.” Trudy scoffs at the comment crossing her arms over her chest. Her sharp eyes watched the way that Kim leaned into Jay. Their chairs were pulled close together and his hand was resting on her thigh with her hand on his forearm absently caressing it with her thumb. The familiarity spoke of a long relationship in its natural movements and shared looks.

Jay laughed, “Yeah, there is no way you play varsity soccer in high school.” The table continued their roasting. The team was in high spirits and the last week had been running smoothly. The tension between Jay and Adam had faded along with his impressive shiner. They all lingered even after they finished eating, enjoying the company and teasing of one another.

Jay got up to order another mimosa for Kim at the bar. It was a Saturday and they may have another round if they were going to be there for a while. A shadow fell over him. “You want another drink Sarg?” When Trudy didn’t respond he turned to look at her. Her gaze is still on the table the team is sitting at.

“I haven’t seen her that happy in a while.” Jay’s blue eyes followed her gaze to Kim. She had a huge smile, and Antonio said something that made her throw her head back and laugh. The sound brings warmth to his chest. It’s infectious and makes him smile too. “Don’t screw this up, Halstead. That is my girl, you better take care of her. I promise you, you won’t find better.”

Jay turned to fully face her. Her eyes held a seriousness that he matched. “I know. I have every intention of keeping that smile on her face.” Life was finally settling down. Work was back to normal. Everyone was getting along and had fallen back into a seamless understanding and camaraderie.

Kim’s sister had spent two weeks in rehab. Zoey had been staying with Kim and in turn with him. The pair didn’t sleep apart well anymore. Nicole had gotten out and was more like herself. Zoey had gone home. A peace in Kim that had been missing for too long had returned. She seemed lighter. Less worry furrowing in between her eyebrows. “She is my girl too.” Trudy gave him a short curt nod of acceptance. If Jay didn’t know any better, he might have thought she had teared up a little.

“Good because I like you, Halstead. I would hate to have to kick your ass.” Jay couldn’t contain his bark of laughter. “I mean it Chuckles. You hurt her and you’ll pay the price.” It wasn’t the first hurt her and I’ll kill you spiel he had gotten but he did not doubt that it was the most dangerous. And that was saying something considering he had gotten it in various degrees from Kevin, Antonio, and Voight. Kim was well loved in the team and the men within were protective of the females. Apparently, that protection was limited to outside the group. Jay didn’t mind it though. Honestly, he was happy there were so many people who cared about Kim. If that meant he had to deal with a little more third-degree he would take the tradeoff.

“I do not doubt it. And if I do- I'll let you.” A silent understanding passed between the two. It was broken by the bartender setting a bright orange drink on the bar. Jay pulls out his wallet fishing out a few bills before handing them to the server. “Thanks, man. Her next drink is on me too.”

“A Bloody Mary,” Trudy told the man who nodded and pulled a short thick glass. Jay laughed as he shoved his wallet back into his pocket.

“I should have guessed.” He tapped the bar top before grabbing the drink and heading back over to the table. Trudy kept facing the bar but watched in the mirror. She watched as Kim turned in her seat as Jay approached her, their fingers grazing as she took the glass from him. She watched Kim’s chair slide closer after Jay sat down closing the distance between the two of them. Her hand went to his thigh as he threw his arm over the back of her chair.

The bartender set her handsomely garnished drink on the bar as he spoke, “Ah, to be young and in love again.”

#chicago pd #jay halstead #kim burgess #kim burgess x jay halstead #jay halstead x kim burgess #jay halstead and kim burgess #jaykim #jake x kate #jake and kate #burgstead

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gascon-en-exil · 4 months ago

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Sixty-Four Ways in which Octopath Traveler II Improves Upon the First Game

In honor of Octopath Traveler II's second anniversary, I've put together a list of the many ways in which this game excels above and beyond the solid foundation laid down by its predecessor. Why sixty-four? Because it's eight squared...or eight to the second power, if you will. This series practically begs for lame numerical jokes.

Obligatory disclaimer: I am not claiming that the original Octopath Traveler is a bad game.

I played and enjoyed OT quite a bit when it came out, and I completed another full playthrough during the last few months as I was starting to put this post together. Around half this list came about from stuff I'd only remembered in replaying OT for the first time in years. I do still think it's a good game, and I had a fun time going through it again - but I also think that OT2 surpasses it by just about every objective metric.

And that's a good thing! It's great to see game developers taking feedback on a first project and using it to make improvements to the follow-up. If there's ever an Octopath Traveler III I would only hope that they continue to do so and make the newest iteration even better in which case I'll then have to make a list of 512 reasons why it's better, God help me. I have however gotten angry anons in the past whenever I've praised OT2 too much over the first game, so this is my attempt at heading that off at the start. A bunch of these points are straightforward improvements in game design; it's only near the end where I start dipping into more subjective territory even though I do have my points to make there as well.

#64. Battle speed toggle

This is what you're going to notice first, no questions asked, and also why you should absolutely never play OT right after OT2. Double battle speed is something you won't realize you miss until it's not an option. As an added bonus, the x2 modifier isn't a basic fast-forward toggle but still allows the animations and audio to be fully enjoyable at double speed.

#63. No purple chests

This is one even the biggest OT defenders will concede. Forcing you to bring a specific character into almost every dungeon lest you miss out on some prime loot (or alternatively requiring you to awkwardly backtrack with Therion later) is just bad game design.

#62. More interesting Talents

Related to this, Therion's Talent slot being taken up by the purple chest feature is just one of several boring mechanics occupying that space, alongside Ophilia and Primrose's NPC summons, Olberic's group defend command, and Tressa finding money when entering a new screen. They're all functional, but it makes traveler Talents feel rather underwhelming on the whole. OT2 dispenses with this. Summoning is still present but not a Talent, and the others mentioned have all been replaced with more engaging stuff like AoE buffs/debuffs (Throné and Temenos), new mechanics for escort NPCs (Partitio and Agnea), and the ability to learn combat skills from NPCs (Hikari).

#61. Capture and Concoct are redesigned

Technically applies to the scholars' Analyze as well, but that only got a small buff in the second game. These two Talents on the other hand are vastly improved. Concoct in OT2 can now be boosted and also interacts with Castti's Latent Power for easier resource management, and is overall stronger and more versatile even if it lost three of its element-breaking options.

But Ochette is the real winner when it comes to Talents. H'annit's Beast Lore is a clunky Pokémon-esque system that's rarely worth using when there's a less awkward Path Action that does the same thing as hers (Olberic's) and when the limited summons on beasts discourages you from using them much outside of certain boss summons vs. Galdera or similar (and even then there are easier setups). In OT2 though beasts can be summoned any number of times, and Ochette has a chance to auto-capture them so she can build up a stable of summons even without going through the hassle of whittling down their HP and throwing a Pokéball spending turns trying to capture them. That beasts you don't need any more can be turned into consumable items adds yet another useful layer to the mechanic, and Ochette's companion animal and access to story-based summons grow along with her unlike H'annit's leopard.

#60. A recent inventory tab

Another small but appreciated quality of life feature. In OT items and equipment you obtain are immediately sorted into a set order within your inventory, which can make them tough to find if you just got a new weapon or armor piece and want to try it out on someone. OT2 has a tab organizing your inventory in the order it was acquired, so that's less of a hassle.

#59. Opening chapters are more organically handled

OT begins opening chapters for your non-starting traveler in medias res, allowing the rest of the party to come along for the combat segments and scaling up the challenge as you recruit more travelers. This would be nice for earlygame leveling...except for the nagging issue of your starting traveler being forced (something OT2 unfortunately does not fix) so it's impossible to keep everyone at equal levels even if you try.

OT2 improves this in several ways. One is that opening chapters for the other travelers are now optional if you don't want to bother with the easy early stuff. Another is that these chapters are now "instanced" in a sense, only available to their respective traveler. This allows their difficulty to remain evenly tuned for the specific experience of starting out with each character, and is also about as close as OT2 gets to acknowledging the disconnect both games have in their individual stories, i.e. that they're never written like these characters have an entire JRPG party behind them all the time. In their Chapter 1s (and Osvald's Chapter 2) at least, they don't.

#58. As well as being more fair if you start with one of the squishier travelers

Certain travelers are rough to begin with in OT because they're either glass cannons (Cyrus), lacking in offensive options (Ophilia), or both (Primrose). OT2 solves this by giving the travelers with these same starting jobs temporary party members who help them in their dungeons and boss fights and also do a good job of teaching the player how best to use these more group-oriented jobs.

#57. A smoother difficulty curve in earlygame

Even though the travelers can't tag along with the others' introductions anymore, OT2 makes up for this by reducing the challenge level of the early midgame. Chapter 2s in OT all have level recommendations in the 20s, whereas in OT2 they're all in the teens. This makes getting out of the earlygame and moving on to bigger things less daunting from the start, on top of several of the improvements coming up.

#56. Time of day acts as another difficulty toggle

The day/night system of OT2 impacts a wide variety of game elements, but one of its subtler effects is that the random encounter rate is higher at night. This allows you to more easily tailor your leveling experience to your party's current strength. Further, nighttime enemy groups generally being tougher can be counterbalanced by fielding Throné and/or Temenos with their night-based combat Talents.

#55. Redesigned job skill lists

Most of the base jobs have improved skill lists in OT2. Dancer has more offensive options like Ruinous Kick and Dagger Dance, scholar is more flexible both in terms of damage (Elemental Barrage) and support, hunter drops two low-accuracy, multi-hit bow skills in exchange for a more precise one and an actual axe skill, cleric can restore its own SP with Mystical Staff, etc. Warrior loses the easy opening cleave of Level Slash, but gets the arguably more versatile Aggressive Slash and the useful Vengeful Blade instead. The only ones that feel a bit weaker are thief for losing Share SP and merchant for losing out on its magical AoE option...but Sidestep, Donate BP, and Hired Help are all accounted for and just as strong as ever if not more.

#54. More flexibility with breaking and boosting

OT2 introduces a number of readily-accessible ways (ex. Ruinous Kick, Weak to Poison, Ochette and Temenos's Latent Powers) to break enemies regardless of their weaknesses, which cuts down on the annoyance of having to build teams around covering every possible scenario. There's also more uses for BP, such as the aforementioned Concoct as well as various other Latent Powers. Partitio's Latent combines with Donate BP and a support skill he can grab early on (see below) to make him into a reliable BP battery. As these are the two signature features of Octopath's battle system, these upgrades are much-appreciated.

#53. Earlier access to EXP/JP-boosting support skills and accessories

OT locks the support skills boosting EXP and JP behind secret jobs and the equivalent accessories behind post-story side quests. OT2 on the other hand provides the former from base jobs and the latter from chests in the late midgame, with the JP Augmentor in particular being accessible very early if you know where it is and don't mind cheesing your way through a certain area. There's additionally another base job support skill that increases gains in both at night, which makes early leveling even quicker.

#52. Overall stronger early support skill options

On top of these, Boost-Start (+1 BP at the beginning of combat) has also been bumped down to a base job. It's joined by powerful new additions like Full Power (full Latent Power at the beginning of combat), Vigorous Victor (30% HP and SP regen after each battle, which largely makes up for SP Saver now coming from a lategame secret job), More Rare Monsters (easier Cait and Octopuff hunting), and of course A Step Ahead from the early secret job Inventor which can break most encounters.

#51. The job license system

In OT no two travelers can have the same secondary job, but in the second game you can acquire up to three licenses for each of the base jobs for a maximum of four travelers using each at once if you choose. These licenses also provide some nice bits of optional gathering content, and apart from scholar and to a lesser extent apothecary - which require stealing rare drops off uncommon enemies - none of them are particularly frustrating to obtain.

#50. Caits (and Octopuffs) are more of an event but also easier to find

As mentioned, the hunter support skill More Rare Monsters exists to make these high-value enemies more likely to spawn, and there are additionally accessories that do the same thing (and stack with the skill, I think?). They also get their own distinctively quirky battle theme music so you're guaranteed not to miss them.

#49. More Path Actions offer more overall flexibility

OT2 doubles the number of Path Actions that serve the same purpose (obtaining info, escorting NPCs, etc.), which greatly increases the range of possible party combinations to cover whatever you might need as well as gives you more options for accomplishing specific goals, ex. getting items based on your level, or knocking out NPCs without having to fight them. The in-game time system does occasionally limit these options since not all NPCs are available both day and night, but all the same it's a welcome improvement.

#48. Variety in chapter and story structure

A common criticism of OT is that, with only one significant exception (Olberic's Chapter 2), every one of its thirty-two story chapters follows exactly the same format: town exploration, usually requiring the traveler's Path Action -> dungeon -> boss. In OT2 some chapters lack dungeons, bosses, or both. While less content might seem like a drawback, it really helps the structure feel less repetitive, and because there's forty total chapters, with the non-boss chapters being split evenly among the cast, the overall experience doesn't feel less substantial. It allows also for -

#47. Fewer random dungeons/bosses

A common problem of OT leashing its stories too strictly to the dungeon + boss structure is that several times one or both of those elements will feel tacked on purely out of obligation and not in service to the narrative. Take Ophilia's and H'annit's Chapter 2s, or Alfyn's Chapter 4...or both Chapters 3 and 4 for Tressa. Because OT2 is comfortable allowing certain chapters to pass without these, this is much less of an issue. Some of the game's most dramatic story beats come out of chapters that lack bosses, ex. Osvald's Chapter 2 or Castti's Chapter 3, while others like Agnea's Chapter 3 and Ochette's Chapter 2 (Cataracta) provide room for character moments by dialing back on the combat.

#46. More overall nonlinearity

That parenthetical up there is significant, because around half of OT2's stories have chapters that can be completed in any order. While this isn't executed perfectly - recommended levels will still railroad you in most cases - the greater variety of options at any one time gives you more choices when deciding which traveler's story to continue next in contrast to the strict linearity of each of the stories in OT. Further helping this is the fact that -

#45. Solistia is more geographically complex

Orsterra is so obviously laid out as a video game world that it could be called a deliberate stylistic choice: eight biomes in a ring around an inaccessible center, with all of its areas divided across three concentric circles starting from the inside and working outward. It's incredibly artificial, and opinions will vary as to whether that's charming or silly.

While Solistia still has the common video game issue of wildly contrasting biomes right next to each other (its western continent is especially bad about this), in all other respects it's a much less predictably-designed setting. There are no rings or obvious circular paths around the world, the regions are broken up across two continents and a large island, and chapters now jump around locations in a less blatantly linear way making the threefold division between early, middle, and lategame towns slightly less on the nose.

#44. The creepy RNG-dependent endgame previews

There's a lot of negative points to be made about how little effort OT makes in setting up its final boss that I'll bring up later, but one early quirk of OT2 is that you'll randomly enter a different screen only for it to be eerily dark and filled with strange shadowy monsters you won't fight anywhere else...and then once you beat them, the screen goes back to its normal state as if nothing happened. It's very unsettling the first time it happens, and even when you know it can happen it's rare enough to still catch you off guard.

#43. The ship opens up the world

And getting back to geography, once you buy a ship around the game's midpoint OT2's exploration opens up quite a bit compared to the first game. The Sundering Sea is a semi-open traveling space with treasure, distinctive enemy encounters, and optional dungeons and bosses all its own. It's an appreciated aesthetic addition as well, since it offers you a perspective on the world of Solistia that you wouldn't get to see otherwise. This is another worthwhile departure from OT's rigid wheel-and-spoke map layout.

#42. Fewer optional dungeons offset by more mandatory ones

Looking at raw data, OT has a larger array of optional dungeons: 28 vs. 19. Those numbers may vary slightly depending on how you define a dungeon in this series, but the point is that the first game has more of them. It doesn't really feel that way however, because with more chapters as well as the Crossed Path system OT2's overall dungeon count turns out to be roughly the same in the end. This also allows OT2's optional dungeons to stand out more as a group, with all but one of them by my recollection either having a boss, an associated side quest, and/or a unique piece of loot needed for one of the secret jobs. A handful of OT's optional dungeons seemingly exist only for level grinding as well as whatever's available in their treasure chests. But while we're talking about dungeons...

#41. (Slightly) more dungeon type variety

Try to name an OT dungeon, mandatory or otherwise, that isn't a cave, forest, sewer, ruins, or lavishly-decorated interior space. At times they'll vary based on which biome they're in, ex. the ones in the Frostlands will be snowy, but that's about it. OT2 brings back all of the above for its dungeon settings, but there are also some more inventive ones like a ghost ship, factories, a clock tower, a ruined castle, or canyon ravines. When there's over fifty such spaces in each game to explore, even that bit of extra variety is appreciated.

#40. Improved visibility in low light areas

Here's one I noticed only on my recent replay: OT is dark in a lot of places, particularly in many of the aforementioned cave and forest dungeons. While that's nice for atmosphere, the lighting can sometimes be so poor that it's hard to tell where you're going which is more frustrating than anything. In spite of its day/night system and its main plot about an endless night, OT2 is ironically the brighter game all around, with visibility noticeably better in even the darkest dungeons. The only times I can recall it being an issue are in the Cavern of the Moon and Sun where it's worked into exploration (you have to keep flipping between day and night to illuminate the path ahead) and in the dungeons you'll have to go into during the Final Story when everything is covered in dense purple mist. In that instance though the darkness matches the story, and additionally those dungeons are ones you've already entered before under normal conditions, so you're not fumbling around in the dark of a completely unknown space.

#39. More interesting rewards from chests

Another point I noticed only recently. An oddly large number of chests in OT contain either money or common consumables, which while undeniably useful also aren't the most exciting things to get when you open up a chest (especially if it's a purple chest!). OT2 largely fixes this by offering rare rewards from chests more often, whether that be equipment or less easily obtainable items.

#38. Major money sinks to make leaves more valuable

Money is more valuable in the Octopath games than in many other JRPGs due to everything merchants can do with leaves, but it's still fairly easy to amass a ton of wealth in both titles just from exploring and battling and getting most of your equipment from chests, stealing, etc. rather than buying it. It'll take longer to get to where you can thoughtlessly fire off a Hired Help every battle in OT2 however, because between the mandatory ship (100K leaves) and the two extra merchant job licenses (100K and 300K) there's enough big ticket items in the midgame to keep you watching your wallet.

Having three Path Actions that use money rather than just one also plays into that a bit as well, but to a lesser extent. On the subject of Path Actions, you likely won't need to shell out large sums of leaves as often in OT2 to restore your reputation in towns on account of there being more ways to get items, info, etc. without lowering it...but honestly the reputation system in OT2 feels like a vestigial, arbitrary relic of the first game. See, for example, why Agnea innocently attracting NPCs with her dancing can lower reputation, but Osvald mugging them or Temenos coercing them into confessions can't.

#37. Shops and inns can be entered

A minor point, but OT2 has so many more interior spaces in its towns. This not only helps with storytelling - recall the scenes in OT that take place in "inns" that are just a bare room with maybe one table - but it also allows for more architectural diversity like on Toto'haha as well as for the possibility that vendors appear out in the open like in Ryu.

#36. Party banters are easier to see

Another common complaint in OT is that it can be easy to miss party banters in chapters, and that there's no way to go back and rewatch them or see them at all if you didn't unlock them while going through. OT2 fixes these issues with the ability to watch them in the journal, even if you didn't see them at the time, and also removes some of the clunkiness of triggering them by spreading them across more chapters rather than needing each traveler to speak to all of the other seven in every chapter after their first.

#35. More thoughtfully utilized voice acting

Sadly, party and tavern banters are still unvoiced in OT2, which sucks because they're still the most frequent source of interaction between the travelers.

In all other respects though, the second game is much better in the ways that it makes use of its voice acting. In OT most NPCs out in the world choose from a selection of short voice lines to be tagged to their dialogue, while story cutscenes have a mixture of full voice acting and voice tags. The latter effect can be rather disorienting, especially when there's a mid-scene switch between the two styles for no apparent reason. OT2 scraps the voice tags for NPCs, but now every cutscene is fully voiced. The tradeoff is more than welcome and makes for a smoother, more cinematic narrative experience.

#34. The travelers are chattier in combat

In addition, the travelers have significantly more customized combat voice lines in the second game. This is especially noticeable in that they now react to the actions of their party members, such as when they break foes or get low on health. It's an extra level of banter that makes them feel more like they're fighting as a group, and allows for little character moments in the way they address each other. For example, Osvald is the only one of the travelers who doesn't refer to his allies by name, but he does have unique break lines for each of the others.

#33. As are bosses

Only a few OT bosses, like Darius and Simeon, have in-combat dialogue. This is far from the case in OT2, where a bunch of the story bosses - including all of the travelers' final bosses - have dialogue sequences with their respective characters. This can make the flow of combat a bit messy if you deal too much damage too quickly and end up getting rushed through different phases, but that mechanical hiccup aside this is a great way to layer on the dramatic stakes and work in some more character development for the travelers as they're facing down their greatest enemies.

#32. More diverse animations and weapon sprites

A simple improvement, but a nice one even so. Equipping different weapons of the same type is now more noticeable, and the travelers' combat sprites are overall more dynamic and expressive. Everyone loves the shamelessly horny Stimulate animation, just for starters.

#31. Bosses have more varied mechanics

Something I noticed on my replay of OT is that its bosses can be surprisingly simplistic. All the core ways the games have for ramping up difficulty are there - changing weaknesses, adding shields or actions per turn, inflicting status effects and massive amounts of damage - but with the obvious exception of Galdera that's more or less it.

OT2 compounds these mechanics with a wealth of new ones that turn many of the bosses into uniquely memorable experiences: concealing turn order, locking certain menu options, charming party members or copying their skills, countering boosted attacks, etc. There's even a pure puzzle boss in the forced solo encounter Karma, to say nothing of how the Vide fight actually allows you to use all eight travelers at once. This complexity is particularly noticeable with the optional bosses that appear in both titles, like the Monarch and the Dreadwolf, because if you compare their tactics across games they're much trickier the second time around.

#30. Secret jobs are more accessible before endgame

Each game has four secret jobs. In OT all of them are gated behind powerful optional bosses that you very likely won't be strong enough for until after you've completed most of the story. While these are indeed memorable fights, that leaves the problem of there being very little content left on which to actually use these incredibly powerful jobs. There's exactly three bosses with HP totals that surpass the gods that give you the secret jobs, and not much reason to try them out otherwise save for making the endgame grind faster.

OT2 locks one secret job (arcanist) behind a challenging lategame encounter and another (conjurer) behind a boss gauntlet that's only available after you clear arguably the hardest of the travelers' final chapters. But inventor can be unlocked as soon as you clear your starting traveler's opening, and it and armsmaster get their skills from turning in items acquired from the world and from dungeons meaning you'll get significantly more use out of them before endgame.

#29. Quality over quantity with side stories

This is another matter of raw numbers. OT has one hundred side stories; OT2 has only two-thirds that many. This does though allow for the second game's set to stand out a bit more overall, especially the ones that get creative with solutions. Additionally, when you factor in how many of OT's side stories are leadups to the final boss, or are three-part NPC mini-stories stretched out across each town in a single region, it rarely feels as though OT2 is really missing out. It's more than got that covered with -

#28. Scents of Commerce

Partitio comes with a unique mechanic that essentially amounts to three side stories just for him - only each of them gets the full cutscene treatment and adds something significant to the experience of the game: an in-universe sound test, a lore dump library, or the mandatory ship purchase that I've already praised for how it opens up the map.

#27. The Crossed Path system

Meanwhile, arguably replacing the multi-part NPC side stories are the Crossed Paths, four two-part stories that see the travelers broken up into pairs as they pursue unique narrative threads and add a few more dungeons and boss encounters to the total to boot. This is an extremely welcome addition that actually allows the travelers to interact with one another directly, and it's little wonder that it was such a big part of the game's prerelease marketing and so looked forward to among fans. The general consensus is that OT2 could have taken the idea further, but even so it's a massive step up from OT's travelers feeling completely isolated from one another for 98% of the game.

And hey, I turned the Crossed Path system into an entire partial AU for my fics, so it's safe to say it did something right!

#26. Traveler themes show up in their final bosses

Moving more toward lategame stuff now. Everyone loves how Octopath makes high-energy variations of its traveler themes to lead into their boss fights. OT2 though takes this a step further by having those "In Pursuit of..." themes come in as a bridge during their final story bosses, which makes each of those encounters feel a bit more personal. Agnea meanwhile goes even further with this idea. For her showdown against Dolcinaea she gets a unique vocal rendition of her theme music playing in the background, which is just one of many ways her final chapter builds on and surpasses Primrose's in fourth-wall-leaning theatricality.

#25. The credits don't roll after finishing one traveler's story

One of the first game's more baffling minor decisions is where it places its credits. In OT2 they're moved to the middle of the Epilogue, a much more fitting location that emphasizes that you're looking back on all of the travelers' journeys, not just your starting choice (or whoever else's story you finished first).

#24. EX skills

I didn't make a separate entry for Latent Powers because they're just a flat mechanical addition, but EX skills are different in that they either 1) provide a generally more interesting reward for tracking down the god shrines out in the overworld or 2) come in during or after the travelers' final bosses as an often powerful story-based upgrade, ex. Osvald unlocking the One True Magic, or Agnea putting together the Song of Hope. Some are just notably strong on their own merits, like a buffed Share SP, Prayer for Plenty repurposing a support skill from the first game, Windy Refrain for turn order manipulation, or Heavenly Shine as an endgame nuke with a massive damage ceiling. And even the ones that don't see a lot of use, like Negotiate Schedule or Disguise, usually have some interesting flavor to them.

#23. Lategame bosses have more even difficulty distribution

Optional bosses in OT at or above the levels of the travelers' final bosses are, with only a handful of exceptions, not all that impressive. This leads into the issue I mentioned with the game's secret jobs, where once you're strong enough to unlock them there's only three more bosses that will actually put up enough fight to warrant using them. OT2 has quite a bit more going on with late optional bosses built for endgame teams (Heavenwing, the Behemoth, the Scourge of the Sea, etc.) as well as the boss challenges that come out of the Final Story. And that's not even mentioning Galdera 2.0...

#22. And the endgame grind is less tedious

The snowballing effect of more readily-accessible EXP and JP-boosting skills and accessories is that grinding out jobs and levels takes significantly less time once the travelers' stories are done. In OT the lack of a true narrative finish means that around that point you'll hit a wall and have to do a bunch of grinding to get ready for Galdera (assuming you're not using some kind of cheese low-level strategy). But in OT2 there's just generally more to do and less needed to work on if you've been leveling consistently earlier on. Also, two of this game's secret jobs don't even require JP, so that drops the total needed for a traveler to max everything out by a hefty 30K.

#21. Next chapter NPC side stories get the full cutscene treatment

Both games have a selection of side stories involving story NPCs that unlock once the traveler stories are done, and which tend to be a bit more substantial than most others like them. This is even more true in OT2, where these side stories get fully-voiced cutscenes. A shame they're among the only ones of that sort to not get recorded in the journal...but still a plus.

#20. An actual Final Story

And yeah, I absolutely have to mention this too. OT's final encounter is locked unintuitively behind a number of sidequests, and it consists of a fairly easy gauntlet of reused bosses followed by an extremely difficult two-part fight with no way to save at any point in between. You get a short cutscene, and then a prompt like you've finished just another sidequest, and...that's it. Underwhelming doesn't begin to describe it.

In the second game though the Final Story has numerous cutscenes, a temporary new world state, multiple all-new boss encounters that you can save in between, a proper ramp-up to the final boss, and then of course the final boss itself which is powerful but not overwhelmingly so like Galdera is in OT. It's dramatic, cinematic, and gives all the travelers a chance to shine both in and out of combat, with callbacks to the Crossed Path system and the ability to use all eight at once against Vide.

#19. And an actual Epilogue

And once you're done with Vide, you're free to start the proper Epilogue sequence. The travelers bid farewell to each other, the appropriately-timed credits roll, and then everyone's back in New Delsta for a big party ending where all the surviving NPCs show up and give you a big sendoff. Needless to say, it's an ending that actually feels deserving of the label.

#18. Both of which give a bit of weight to your initial choice of traveler

It's nothing huge, but OT2's ending wraps back around to caring a bit about who kicked off your journey. Your starting traveler gets a handful of unique lines before and after the final boss, and they're also the last left behind in the Epilogue so they get to deliver a quick monologue once everyone else has gone on their way (in reverse order from how you recruited them, no less). This is most noticeable with Agnea, in that her sister becomes temporarily playable in the New Delsta sequence since Agnea herself takes the stage for the ending.

#17. Party members can be switched at any time after a point

Another small but very noticeable perk is that once the Final Story begins you can now switch travelers in and out of the party at any time outside of combat. No more needing to return to a tavern whenever you need a different Path Action or have to switch equipment between active and inactive travelers!

#16. Postgame challenges are harder but less frustrating

That's a big help for the bosses in the Final Story as well as those that surpass them in difficulty, because it's so much easier to prepare for them (on top of the aforementioned benefits of less EXP/JP grinding, etc.). Galdera is back and harder than ever, but you can save directly before the fight and there's no need to do a boss gauntlet first making the experience much less annoying.

#15. The Extra Battles update amps up the difficulty even further

And if that wasn't enough, OT2 got an unexpected free update in 2024 adding four new ultra-difficult boss encounters from the main menu. These handily put to rest the accusation that the second game is easier than the first because of how much stronger and more flexible your characters can be early on. True Vide the Wicked especially blows both Galderas out of the water in terms of challenge.

#14. While also working as an homage to the first game

Two of the Extra Battles are against the eight travelers of OT. Getting to see them all as incredibly powerful enemies working together to take you down can be quite entertaining, and their abilities combine direct nods to the first game with new material (like Crossed Path-esque paired skills) built off what OT2 adds to its mechanics.

#13. Solistia has more adventurous worldbuilding

Now onto some more subjective stuff. Orsterra is a stock JRPG fantasy setting, lovingly recreating the tropes and clichés of that type of media to get the whole HD-2D aesthetic off the ground back in 2018. It recalls the classics of the genre, as well as series that continue to make that its stock in trade, ex. Fire Emblem...but it's certainly stuff we've seen before.

That's why I was so pleased to see the second game move the timeline forward, pulling from 19th and early 20th century referents and giving Solistia more of an Industrial Revolution feel. There's urbanized cities, early modern tech just ignore the lack of firearms, and light prodding at themes like colonialism and income inequality. It's mildly less Eurocentric, from the Wutai-flavored Hinoeuma to areas that call to mind the 19th century US. There's also a society of infantilized animal people who are subjected to racism and colonial incursions, which...we're probably all better off not reading too far into.

#12. And also more substantial (if sometimes tongue-in-cheek) lore dumps

The Mercantile Manuscript, a reward from one of Partitio's Scents of Commerce, is a treasure trove of lore for Solistia. Some of it can be rather silly, like why there are still only the six weapon types from OT, but it's all in good fun - and unlike the first game, you don't have to go through a tedious boss gauntlet to get these lore dumps either.

#11. New Delsta is a huge step up for Octopath towns/cities

I've gotten a ton of mileage out of it in my fics, in part due to some substantial real-world additions of my own, but New Delsta really is a cut above anything else we've seen from cities in this series in size, scope, and narrative significance even in spite of it not actually featuring in that many chapters. Nowhere else better captures both the glitzy surface and seedy underbelly of large early modern cities; honestly, the likes of Atlasdam and Grandport from the first game can't even begin to compete. (This, incidentally, is a big reason why I find it so odd that both Octopath canon and fandom mash the two games together so readily, when it's immediately obvious just from looking at these cities that Solistia is centuries ahead of Orsterra technologically and socially speaking. I suppose it doesn't bother everyone.)

#10. The day/night system makes NPCs feel less static

Somewhat related, but another bonus of the ability to toggle between day and night is that NPCs are sometimes in different places depending on the time of day. This helps further the sense that they're not just stationary sprites delivering their canned dialogue and waiting for you to use your Path Actions on them. It's nothing on the level of, say, Majora's Mask or anything, but it's still appreciated.

#9. It also avoids the awkwardness of lategame sunset areas

And while we're back on time of day, most lategame areas in OT are blanketed in a perpetual sunset. One could say that this adds to the dramatic feel of those final areas...but it's also every bit as artificial as Orsterra's map, especially since it doesn't impact all regions (ex. the Woodlands). Almost every location in OT2 has both day and night lighting variants, with sunrise and sunset transitions between them, so that artificiality is a thing of the past. Funnier still is that the game nonetheless produces a similar effect by covering Solistia in perpetual night during the Final Story, so it gets to have its cake and eat it too.

#8. The traveler stories showcase more diversity in genre and tone

Like the setting as a whole, OT2 simply has more going on in terms of its narrative referents. This one game containing a rightful-king-reclaiming-his-throne story, a temporally-messy nod to the actual Industrial Revolution, a somber tale of a wrongfully-accused prisoner straight out of 19th century French literature that takes a hard right at the Power of Love right at the end, and a very dark family drama that ends on a note too overwhelmingly bittersweet for the game's overarching destroy-an-evil-god schitck to even handle. It's certainly not all perfect, but damned if OT2 doesn't go places.

#7. And (some of) the travelers themselves are less tied to stock archetypical traits

Along with that comes the game stepping away from some of the familiar clichés of fantasy JRPG characters. The premiere magic character is a buff bear daddy. The warrior is a lithe twink prince. The cleric is skeptical of everything and only pious in a very unorthodox sense. The dancer literally is just a stage performer and not a sex worker under some thin euphemisms. It really helps this cast stand out from that of the first game's, and with all the extra character moments these guys come off rather stronger overall.

#6. Select chapters go the extra mile in terms of structure and/or atmosphere

You can probably already pick out the chapters I'm referencing. Partitio's Chapter 1 is a self-contained bildungsroman that uses multiple time skips to convey the growth and decline of a town along with basically all of Partitio's character development in a very short span of time. Osvald's opening is a structurally and mechanically claustrophobic prison break sequence that hits the ground running with showing off how OT2 likes to vary its storytelling techniques. Castti's Chapter 3 is bleak and melancholy, letting flashbacks do the heavy lifting in a sequence with no significant combat but a ton of gruesome death. And Throné's Chapter 4 is the darkest thing Octopath has ever done, with an eerie ramp-up of a gondola ride leading to a nightmarish town area that's all the worse because of how much is left up to implication. The boss himself is even worse, and even if the story fumbles Throné's distinct lack of a happy ending you can tell that it at least tried.

There are others in here of course, like Hikari's climactic battle or the fourth-wall-leaning in Agnea's finale, but you get the idea. There's a ton of memorable story moments in this game.

#5. Actual narrative tie-ins to the Final Story

While the Final Story does hurt some travelers' individual stories, like Throné's or to a lesser extent Partitio's, the buildup is much more palpable and appreciable than it was for OT's series of seemingly innocuous side quests and 11th hour text dumps building to Galdera. The amount of thought that went into piecing together the actions of the Moonshade Order across all the stories and Crossed Paths is quite impressive, enough to where I can mostly forgive certain clumsily-handled threads.

#4. A better realization of the overarching theme of both games

The loose thematic concern of this series as a whole is, fittingly, the idea of traveling, of finding oneself and connecting with others through journeys both physical and otherwise. OT nods to this in a more literal sense as well at the end via a side quest in which the king of Marsalim vows to put on a play about the travelers' stories. It's the game's way of commenting on itself as narrative.

This is incredibly easy to forget about, as it passes with little fanfare through a minor NPC. Not so in OT2, where the last part of the Epilogue sees Agnea get up on stage and monologue this theme outright before putting on a show (not seen by the player) implied to be about her experiences traveling with the rest of the cast. Needless to say, that's much more thematically resonant and leaves you with a much stronger impression compared to OT's total lack of an ending.

#3. It's a good bit gayer

Me being me, of course I'm going to point this out.

It doesn't matter which level we're talking about; whether it's between the travelers, NPCs, or some combination thereof, OT2 lays on the gay subtext much more heavily...even if it's still quite mild, to be fair. OT has Leon and Baltazar; OT2 has Papp and Roque. OT has Lianna and Eliza; OT2 has Pala and Mikka. OT has Olberic and Erhardt; OT2 has Temenos and Crick. Castti and Malaya, Dolcinaea and Veronica, the Timberain princess and her female gardener, Partitio in general, crossdressing NPCs in the Brightlands...and then on top of that there's a distinct lack of no homo'ing arrangements in a lot of these cases, unlike disappointments like Alfyn and Zeph. Osvald and Clarissa are totally platonic, Throné and Temenos get a Crossed Path but no real shipping fodder, Partitio is kind of clueless and innocent about women, etc. Hell, just the fact that not all of the Crossed Paths are M/F helps a great deal with OT2 not feeling like it's trying to neatly and heterosexually pair off all the travelers.

#2. And just all-around shippier if you're into that

But even so, no matter what kind of ships you like the extra character interactions really add to the shipping content. That's true from the straightforward, ex. Hikari/Agnea, to the just-barely-shy-of-text, ex. Papp/Roque, to the obvious juggernaut and spawner of many a fix-it fic that is Temenos/Crick. Actually, that last one has more fanfics for it on AO3 than the most popular OT pairing...even with the first game having had an extra five years' worth of fanwork for it!

#1. Them

Look, if you know anything about my OT2 work, you saw this coming.

I have a lot of feelings about Osvald and Partitio, both as individuals and even more as a pairing that isn't exactly canon but nevertheless works incredibly well if you read it as such, from their Crossed Path to that one extremely gay party banter to how perfectly it works out for cute post-story family fluff to the ending CG sticking the two front and center and also touching. It's kind of silly that they're not even Partitio's most popular gay ship, because the game itself tees these two up beautifully. Osvald is just too much bear daddy for some people to handle, clearly.

I've had many OTPs over my years in fandom, but Osvitio is the first one that's actually gotten me to write fanfic. Go them.

#Octopath Traveler #Octopath Traveler II

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