#if i can find my fucking enthusiasm. ugh i have to make one of my classes read a paper and i have to work with someone abt find it. she

[opens-up-4-nobody]

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[mediumgayitalian]

“Hide me hide me hide me hide me hide me.”

Nico blinks, watching blankly as Will ducks under his arm, situating himself behind the door and peeking around it. When Nico doesn’t move, he cranes his neck to look at him, face urgent, and says, “Close it, dude, hurry up!

“Solace!”

“Fuck,” Will curses.

Nico blinks again. He squints across the common, trying to suss out what Will’s staring at. It doesn’t take long. She’s hard to miss, especially in full armour.

“Are you…hiding from Clarisse?”

“Am I hiding from —” He scoffs. “No, I’m just behind this door for fun. Fucking obviously I’m hiding from Clarisse, Nico, now get with the program and close the damn —”

“Solace!”

Both of them jump. When Nico looks, Clarisse is already way closer than she should be. Before he can process enough to slam the door, and heedless of Will’s increasingly-harried oh my gods oh my gods oh my gods fuck fuck fuck fuck, Clarisse is closer, and closer, and then suddenly she’s barging inside, pushing Nico aside like it’s not his damn cabin.

Will groans. “Aw, come on, Clarisse!”

She doesn’t bother to humour him with words, choosing instead to grab him by the collar and drag him bodily out. Will does not make it easy, going completely limp and getting his clothes grass-stained beyond belief, because Clarisse tugs him along like a sled behind her, bouncing over every stone. Nico follows, on the grounds that it’s not being nosy if Will dragged him into it technically.

“You have siblings! You have a boyfriend!”

“And yet I’m choosing you,” Clarisse says easily. “I’ve already told Chiron. It’s a done deal, weatherboy. You’re chariot racing with me.”

Will groans, trying in vain to squirm out of Clarisse’s grip. “There is no reason for me to be your partner in the stupid chariot race, I am a healer, I am at camp to heal —”

She shakes him a little to shut him up. “All the more reason. You focus too much on one thing, brat. All you do is heal and study like a big nerd. You need to get out of your comfort zone.”

“Um, no way. I’m very comfortable in it. That’s why it’s called a comfort zone.”

“You could use some training,” Nico pipes up, and the betrayed look Will gives him would be more effective at making him feel bad if it wasn’t so funny. “Last time I tried to teach you how to use a sword you almost sliced off your own face, so.”

Clarisse looks at him with appraisal. “Maybe you do have some sense in you, di Angelo.”

Nico chooses to take that as the compliment it is.

“Ugh,” Will says dramatically, and finally manages to wrench out of Clarisse’s grip in order to embed the appropriate level of drama in his face-down flop to the floor.

Clarisse kicks him. “You’re pathetic.”

“Ugh.”

Notably, he stops protesting. She kicks him again, affectionately this time, and stomps away.

———

“If I work myself into another coma, I don’t have to chariot race,” Will says gleefully, shoving the bottles of nectar Nico hands him onto a shelf. He’s been buzzing around the infirmary all day, healing things he is meant to be healing with a band-aid and a stop being a clumsy dumbass, dumbass with hymns and salves. “I’m gonna try to cure cancer again.”

Kayla, walking by, reaches out and smacks him. “Try it and I’m crack your country CDs in half.”

Will turns to her, opening his mouth —

“Every single one of them,” she stresses, green eyes narrowed.

— and closes it again, huffing.

“I’ll find a way,” he says glumly.

Nico pats him delicately on the back. “There, there.” A pause. “I mean, personally, I can’t wait to watch you fall out of a chariot.”

The look Will shoots him is nothing short of wounded. “You think I’m so uncoordinated I’m gonna fall out of the chariot?”

“Gracefully!” assures Austin from across the infirmary, smiling supportively. He grins brightly when they turn to look, nose scrunching with the force of his smile. “I’m sure!”

Will’s scowl twitches in the face of his brother’s blind enthusiasm. (It is impossible not to be endeared by Austin. He is genuinely the sweetest kid in the entire universe. Nico even gets, to his horror, the occasional urge to squish him. Gently.) He sighs.

“Thanks, Austin.”

“Of course! Love you Will!”

The twitching scowl melts into a full smile. “Love you too, kiddo.”

———

Watching chariot race practices, very quickly, becomes Nico’s favourite pastime.

He sees, now, why Achilles would bring them up, unprompted, wistful look in his eye, every time Nico visited. There’s a beauty in the rawness of it; the whipping winds, wild horses. Squealing wheels and bending axels, open-backed and inches from death at all time. Dangerous, exhilarating. Humanity, at it’s most thrilling and old — some of the first tools, the first domestic animals, the first machines, all at once. It’s pure, raw excitement.

Also, Will falls out of the chariot, like, eight whole times. And there’s nothing funnier than watching him lose his shit at a splintered pile of wood that was once a carriage, helmet thrown to the ground in a fit of rage, accent so thick he’s literally incomprehensible. Nico never gets to see him like this. His stomach actually hurts from laughter on several occasions.

Slowly, though, he starts to get the hang of it. He’s smart — incredibly so — and when he stops spending half his time complaining, and the other half pouting, he actually gets pretty decent. He’s fast, after all, and quick to observe, to respond; the other teams struggle to land hits on him, in practice runs, and sabotage is difficult when your opponent seems to have an almost prophetic gift to see things coming.

He can’t, however, steel himself to hit back.

And therein lies the trouble.

“For fuck’s sake, Will, I’m not asking you to kill anybody,” Clarrise snaps. “You need to get your head in the game!”

Will’s shoulders curl defensively. “I know! I’m trying! It’s just —” He kicks at their broken wheel, in two clean pieces on the ground. “Do no harm.”

“Do some harm. Or I’m gonna kick your ass.”

Will brightens. “And then ask somebody else to be your partner?”

“No, and then make you my partner forever.”

“Oh.”

Will’s sullen face is hard to look at. He’s got those big, puppy dog eyes, round and sad and pouty. Not even Clarisse is immune. (And certainly not Nico, who finds himself halfway off the spectator’s stands and jogging to the tracks before he wonders what exactly, the fresh fuck, he is doing, and sprints right back.)

“Shit, Solace, don’t look like I killed your goddamn mother.” She cuffs him on the shoulder, sending him sprawling with a muffled oof. “We’ll figure it out. Let’s go again.”

Accepting the spare chariot someone wheels towards her, she pulls herself up, making space for Will to do the same. He doesn’t get on immediately, still looking miserable, but concedes eventually.

His forearms look kind of nice when he grips onto the rails for dear life, Nico notices. From a totally objective perspective.

The four practicing teams guide their horses to the starting line, running a few last minute checks. To avoid spilling any secrets or strategies, everyone uses the same practice-issue wooden chariot and wears the same armour, but it’s still obvious who’s who.

The Hephaestus team’s chariot, despite being standard issue, gleams like it’s brand-new. The wood is polished and looks to be altered, barely; a carved groove here, a sharper wing there. Nothing that could really be considered an upgrade, but definitely making the whole thing look smoother. The spears they hold promise a plethora of untold ability hidden within.

The Hermes chariot looks deceptively beat up. There’s a chunk missing from the top of the left side, and one of the wheels appears to be just slightly out of alignment. Upon careful inspection, though, Nico can see clear, hollow tubing attached along the rails and open to the back — definitely a quick rig of some sort. Base (not acid, Cecil had happily lectured him on the benefits of using a base rather than an acid when dissolving anything from steel to human flesh), if Nico has to guess, or maybe Greek fire.

The Aphrodite-Iris chariot doesn’t have to do much to look great. The whole thing seems to coast gracefully to the beginner line, and neither charioteer looks particularly bothered or preoccupied with the competition — if Nico recalls correctly, and he does, their goal is to win through “gay audacity”, which Nico does not understand but supports wholeheartedly.

Will and Clarisse’s chariot, by comparison, is pretty run-of-the-mill. They haven’t done much training with the Ares horses or the Apollo flying chariot, because Clarisse is primarily concerned with training Will — she knows the equipment is fine.

Lacy, standing at the edge of the track, puts a sparkly pink whistle to her lips and blows loudly. It’s not nearly as loud as one of Will’s sonic whistles, but it does the trick, and the teams are off in a blur of movement; Will and Clarisse in the lead, Hephaestus behind them, Aphrodite-Iris in third, and Hermes lagging slightly behind.

As they turn their first corner, positions largely unchanging, Nico hears footsteps from his left — Lou Ellen smiles at him as she climbs the stand, settling into the space he makes next to him.

“What’d I miss?” she asks, brushing dust off her hands.

He shrugs. “Not much. They were in the lead the last practice round, too, but on the last lap Hermes caught up.” He gestures to the heap that was once their practice chariot. “Julia had her sword at their wheels. They were on the inner ring, nowhere to move; the only way to get rid of them would have been to knock her arm, probably dislocate her shoulder. Will couldn’t do it.”

Lou Ellen winces. “Ah.”

There’s a ripping sound, followed by cackling — the Hermes chariot has finally made use of their hasty rigging, setting off an explosion behind them that rockets them forward. It has the added bonus of shaking the ground, slightly, unsettling the other drivers for just barely long enough for them to pull into third place. Far ahead, still in first, Nico can see Clarisse yelling instructions at Will, although he can’t hear what they are. His grip on the rail has tightened.

“Why,” starts Nico carefully, and based on Lou Ellen’s pinched face she knows exactly where he’s going, “does she make him — well, you know.”

Lou Ellen is silent for a good long while, watching the practice chariot race with eyes that aren’t paying attention. Hermes is gaining, but Hephaestus is gaining faster.

“Clarisse has always liked Will,” she says eventually. She meets Nico’s incredulous expression, snorting. “Well, as much as Clarisse can like people. I got here way after he did, so I don’t have any more details there than you do, but he’s never been afraid of her, and she likes that. He’s never been mean to her, either. I mean, I know she can be a bully, but people aren’t exactly light on her, to be fair.”

The Aphrodite-Iris chariot turns out to have some tricks up its sleeve — it starts to glow; barely at first, but quickly blinding. At its crux, everyone has to look away, allowing them to pull into first.

Well, except that Will doesn’t seem nearly as staggered as everyone else. In fact, he doesn’t look bothered at all — for the first time that Nico has seen, there’s something like competition pulling a crooked smile on his face. He stares straight at the still-too-bright chariot, reigns wrapped around his arms as he yanks them forward.

“Is that why she drags him away sometimes?” Nico asks. “To train?”

“Something like that. Most of his training was with —” she falters. “Well, you know who. Medicine and some archery.”

They’re both quiet for a while. Neither of them ever knew Lee or Michael well, if at all, but over time Nico has found himself almost clamming up at the mere thought of them, the way one might tiptoe around an authority figure when they have something to hide. Forbidden subjects, where before Nico simply didn’t think of them often.

“You can’t just not train, though,” Lou Ellen murmurs, eyes trained on the chariots. Hephaestus throws one of their spears, lodging it in the spokes of the Aphrodite-Iris chariot. They come to a very abrupt and very screechy halt, knocking them out of the race in any real capacity. “Not at Camp Half-Blood. She taught him hand-to-hand because she was the only one strong enough to physically drag him to the arena. Everyone else gave up after the first few tantrums — I think she was kind of amused by the challenge. Or something.”

“Or something,” Nico agrees. Privately, he thinks that there is something about Will Solace that makes you want to protect him. Not frailty — he is not by any means incapable — but something about his smile, his genuineness. The stubborn belief that people are good and kind and worthy of everything he has to give. A naivety, except someone who’s been through what he has (what they all have) cannot be naive — his hope in the world is hard-earned and well-won. It makes people want to protect his hold on it, by any means necessary.

Even, Nico reasons, ornery old fuckers like Clarisse LaRue.

The three remaining chariots start the last leg of the race — Apollo-Ares, barely squeezing out in front; then Hephaestus, quickly gaining; and finally Hermes, lagging slightly but not to be discarded. As they round the bend, Nico watches as Clarisse cuffs Will briefly on the arm, clearly proud. This is the farthest they’ve made in first so far, after two weeks of training. Will, reigns safely transferred back to Clarisse, beams at her — bright enough that Nico can see it from dozens of yards away.

With sudden, calculated speed, the Hephaestus chariot surges forward.

As if coordinated, Nico and Lou Ellen inhale sharply, leaning forward. He sees the scattered few other campers so the same in his peripherals, watching with single minded focus as the chariot levels exactly with Will and Clarisse. Nico eyes the spear nervously — of all weapons, they’re the easiest for Will to dodge, to fight off. More impersonal.

But the sons of the smartest god around would know that.

For at least a hundred feet, nothing happens. Ares-Apollo and Hephaestus stay neck in neck, every urge forward matched, every pesky road-blocking stone avoided. The finish line is dangerously close, but no one pulls ahead, nothing changes. Four shoulders remain tense, four helmets stare resolutely forward.

Then, in a quick movement, the taller Hephaestus charioteer hands the spear off to the shorter, swiftly taking the reigns, and the shorter lunges — aiming right for Will’s shoulder. Will’s quick, though, and has his own spear poised to parry in an instant. There’s a barely perceptible nudge from Clarisse, and then Will’s eyes harden, and he lifts his spear to jab right back, needle-thin tip gleaming in the late afternoon sun, right for the chink in the charioteer’s armour and then —

The charioteer rips their helmet off, dropping it at their feet.

It’s Harley.

Hephaestus’ darling; hell, the camp’s darling. One of their youngest and brightest, with big, mischievous brown eyes, contagious smiles, endless enthusiasm. Cute, clumsy Harley, the only one of Hephaestus’ children Will doesn’t have to nag to get treated, who walks dutifully over the infirmary every time he gets so much as a second-degree burn and treats each one of Will’s overcautious instructions with utmost seriousness. Who Will sends away each time with an affectionate kiss on the forehead and a prized purple sucker — who Will, frankly, favours. Who Will would never, in a million years, even consider hurting.

A dirty trick by the Hephaestus cabin.

But an effective one.

Immediately, Will flinches back, spear dropping from his hand and splintering under thundering hooves and spinning wheels. Without a second of hesitation, Harley launches his spear in the same move as before — sticking it in the wheel’s spokes, inertia sending the charioteer’s sprawling, knocking them out of the race.

Except, maybe it’s different when the chariots are so close. Or maybe the chariot was faulty to begin with. Because as soon as the spear gets wedged, the fragile floor of the chariot seems to implode — sending Will and Clarisse under the still-moving machine, instead of flying over. The horses, disoriented from the sudden change, rip free of their harness, adding more force to the already precarious tumble.

There’s a sharp, sickening crack, so loud Nico can hear it as if it’s next to him. In the brief nanosecond immediately afterwords, he closes his eyes, sending a prayer to his father: please be the axle. Please be the axle. Please be the axle.

As the Hephaestus and Hermes chariots rocket past the finish line, Clarisse lets out a shrill, blood-curdling scream.

———

Nico’s off the bench and halfway towards the crashed chariot before he can blink. He’s not the only one — he processes, barely, everyone else’s quick convergence, including the remaining charioteers — but he’s there first, diving into the wreckage seconds before anyone else is close enough.

There’s not a lot of actual debris, chariots being as small as they are, but the dust cloud from the track is so huge and the pieces of wood are so splintered that it feels like there is. As the dust settles, and he kicks some debris out of the way, he starts to see the shape of Will, kneeling, in front of a prone Clarisse and an ever-growing pool of blood.

There’s a bone sticking straight out of her thigh.

As the rest of the campers converge upon them, Will looks up and meets Nico’s eyes. His own blue eyes are dark, steely — determined, but afraid.

“I don’t have time,” is the only thing out of his mouth before he braces both hands on Clarisse’s leg, immediately starting to sing urgent hymns.

Nico understands.

“Lou, Julia, Chiara,” he barks, taking charge in absence of Will’s voice. The three girls snap forward to him immediately. “Sprint the the infirmary and tell them what happened. Austin’s on duty — make sure he doesn’t come with you, we need him to prep a surgical suite. Send everyone else and send them fast. Bring a stretcher.”

He turns to the Hephaestus kids. “Jake, Harley, start clearing the debris to make space. Damien, join them; move the big stuff first, small stuff is secondary. We need a space for Will to work and a space to lay the stretcher. Jen, Butch, Lacy —”

He barks off a list of orders, doing his best to channel the commands he’s watched Will give dozens and dozens of times. In minutes, he has the track cleared, Will’s medical bag dragged over from the stands, and everyone who is not helping stabilize out to the infirmary to help as needed.

As soon as there’s an opening, he rushes over to Will and Clarisse, kneeling by her head.

“Help is coming,” he promises, watching the glow dim and flicker in time with the rhythm of Will’s chanting. The bleeding has slowed, marginally, but he can tell from the volume of blood alone that this was an arterial hit. It’s going to take more than Will’s raw healing power, although there is a lot of it, to keep Clarisse alive and keep her leg functioning in recovery. He needs tools, he needs nectar and ambrosia; he needs the surgery suite. He needs time.

“Is it helpful for me to knock her out?”

Clarisse, of course, is still conscious. Barely — and in so much pain Nico will be surprised if she’s processing anything at all — but enough that every few seconds she lets out an agonised shout of pain, writhing and flinching so hard Will has to focus on steadying her as much as healing her.

Without breaking his song, eyes still trained on the injury, Will nods. Nico breathes, squaring his shoulders, then shuffled forward to rest Clarisse’s head gently in his lap, fingers pressed to her temples. He presses, hard enough to feel the beat of her heart — weak — through his fingertips, and squeezes his eyes shut.

He’s no son of Hypnos, but dreams are the Underworld’s domain. Are his domain, as heir and prince of the Underworld, in every way that matters, that can be counted.

He lets himself sink into careful limbo; body in physical space, mind and soul elsewhere. Not too much — he’s no use if he falls unconscious — but enough to slip into Clarisse’s mindscape, step into her subconscious.

The whole place bleeds white, hot anguish.

Nico stumbles when he first walks in, nauseous despite being nothing but his own mind. It’s been a while since he’s experienced this kind of pain, his own or not, and he has to consciously beat back memories of brimstone and rot; liquid fire, endless red, red, red.

“Clarisse?” he calls, softly as he dares.

She doesn’t respond. He’s not sure she knows how to respond, even if she could. Cautious of the memory and emotion swirling around him, he steps forward. If he focuses, her anguish is pointed — is central. She will be at the centre of it.

He has volunteered, but he’s not sure he wants to follow.

Steeling himself, he shoulders through swirling masses of pain, of hurt, of fear. It’s blisteringly hot, and feels not unlike the sandstorm he was once stranded within, in the middle of the New Mexico desert four years ago. His face prickles; he’s blinded.

He trudges forward.

“Clarisse? Clarisse! Can you hear me? It’s Nico!”

Desperately and uselessly, he wishes he had more practice. Will has offered, the few times he’s needed to anaesthetize someone, but for the most time Nico has foolishly declined. Why on Earth he would pass up a much easier mindscape to navigate through in preparation for something like this is a mystery to him. Fuck.

“Clarisse! Try to — focus on me, can you hear me?”

He forces himself forward, a few more — well, there’s no distance in a mindscape, nothing measurable, anyway. He forces himself to look up, braving the assault to his face, and try to scan his surroundings. The swirling mass is more centralized, now, almost hurricane-like and conal. He’s closer than he was before, but if he can only find…

He looks up, and almost cries in relief: weak against the roaring storm, but still present, is a flickering, golden light. A very familiar light. Nico squeezes his eyes shut, thrusting out his own energy in an uncoordinated mass — boy, is that going to be uncomfortable to extract later — and flails wildly until he finally feels the warmth of Will’s energy entangling with his own, grounding him. He opens his eyes, and suddenly everything is clearer.

Clarisse kneels in the centre of her mindscape, hands pressed tightly to her ears, eyes screwed shut, mouth open in a silent scream.

“Hey,” Nico murmurs, kneeling in front of her. It takes a few seconds, and a few moments of gentle coaxing, before she looks up.

“It hurts,” she croaks.

She’s more vulnerable than he’s ever seen her — eyes brown and big and wet, pained, face twisted and chin trembling and achingly, unbelievably young. She is nineteen years old, but in that moment she appears almost childlike. The years of warrior’s hardness has abandoned her; she is armourless.

Nico swallows the lump in his throat. “I know.”

“Help me. Please.”

“Come here, Clarisse.” He reaches out and wraps a gentle hand around hers, tugging her close. The knee jerk discomfort at close contact is barely a flicker — he is so entwined in her right now that her fear has started to bleed into his; her rawness. He needs this comfort almost as much as she does. Right now she is a person, in agony, and so is he, and it is unbearable.

He holds her until the pain slowly stops.

———

Will is in the surgical suite for seven straight hours.

“Bed,” Nico says softly, rising up to meet him as he exits. It says something about how exhausted he is that he doesn’t even protest, letting Nico place a hand on the small of his back and guide him past the on-call room, past the patient cots, past the Big House living room couches, past Cabin 7. He leads him across the common and right into Cabin 13, with its double beds and blackout curtains, with its insulated, soundproof walls. With Nico.

He helps him out of his bloodstained scrubs, peeling them off his skin and tossing them directly into a trash can. He’d guide him to the shower, usually, but there’s a — glassiness, to his eyes, that there usually isn’t after surgery. Nico chooses instead to skip it, guiding him into the sweatpants he left behind the last time he was here and an oversized The Doors t-shirt of Nico’s, and then to the spare bed he always uses, across from Nico’s. He peels the covers back for him like he’s a child, tucking him in, brushing the hair out of his eyes. He’s asleep in minutes, curled tightly around a pillow, furrowed crease not leaving the space between his eyebrows, even in sleep. Nico smooths it away with his thumb.

“Goodnight, Will,” he murmurs, brushing the backs of his knuckles across his forehead.

He watches him sleep far past what is normal, and then slips back out of the cabin.

———

“On the bright side,” Will says, squeezing the hand that has left to leave Clarisse’s arm, “you’re free from your chariot race obligation! As am I!”

Predictably, she only glowers.

“Not a chance, Solace,” she rasps.

Will helpfully gets her a glass of water, fussing over her blankets while she drinks until she bats him away. Chris watches the whole thing with great amusement, shoulders brushing Nico’s.

“He’s a mother hen, isn’t he,” he comments, tilting his head in Will’s direction, who narrowly avoids having his fingers bitten off trying to feed her a square of ambrosia.

Nico snorts. “Yeah.” He watches the fussing for a few more seconds, making note of Will’s shaking hands, his shakier smile. “He’s guilty.”

“He didn’t do anything. She doesn’t blame him.”

Nico meets his dark look, mouth twisted in understanding. They both know this logic is futile.

“Yeah, well, someone tell him that.”

“Will — stop it.” In a startlingly quick move for someone on as much morphine as she is, Clarisse darts out and clutches Will’s fluttering hands. He hesitates, wondering if it’s worth it to pull out of her hold and possibly jostle her leg. “I’m fine. And you’re still charioting.”

“You’re not fine,” Will frowns, conveniently ignoring the part of the sentence he doesn’t want to deal with. “Your femur snapped in half and tore through your femoral artery on its way out of your leg. You’re going to be on bedrest for a week at least, and it’ll be tender for a good long while besides. That’s what we in the medical business call a Big Fucking Deal.”

She tightens her hold, staring at him until he finally meets her eyes.

“Will.” She narrows her eyes. “You are still participating in the chariot race. I’m not asking.”

“It’ll have to wait until you’re better,” he says lightly. “Besides, we’re focusing on you right now.”

Nico can see in her face when she decides to switch strategies.

“Okay,” she says, stubborn glean in her eye, “then I’m asking you, as a personal request, to stay in the race. Or else I’ll drag myself onto a goddamn horse myself, killing myself in the process, and that will be on your head.”

The tactic works.

Will scowls. “You can’t tell me what to do.”

Clarisse doesn’t bother repeating herself, letting go of his wrists and readjusting her blankets.

“I am done talking now. I believe it’s time for morphine-induced unconsciousness. Please remember that I took down a drakon with my own bare hands; it is well within my abilities to drag myself out of heroin-haze and onto a chariot with no legs, let alone one. Good talk.”

As soon as the words are out of her mouth, she leans back on her pillows and passes out. Genuinely, actually passes out — not closes her eyes, not behind to fall asleep; she is unconscious. Snores ring through the air.

“Well,” Chris says carefully, unfolding his arms. “It might be time to let Clarisse rest for a while.”

Will, healer that he is, cannot exactly argue with that. Will, drama queen that he is, decides to make his fury known by stomping out of the room, a feat in flip-flips possible by him alone.

“She is so infuriating!” he shouts the second they’re in the main room, startling several people. He either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care. “I put effort in! I failed! She can’t even — it’s not even about spending time together, obviously, since I still have to do it! What does she want from me?!”

Chris, like Nico, has wisely decided to let the hypothetical questions remain hypothetical and stay silent, lest his fury be turned onto them. Ten minutes into Will’s rant, Chris excuses himself to go sit by Clarisse. Nico waves him off.

“Will,” Nico suggests the next time he takes a breath, “let’s maybe go for a walk.” He glances at the group of wide-eyed patients. “I think you’re scaring people.”

Deflating, Will nods, following Nico out the door. “Yeah. Yeah, let’s go for a walk.”

The fresh air probably doesn’t fix things, per se, but as they lap around the cabins, Will seems to droop further and further, curling in on himself. The anger recedes from his features.

“I feel really shitty,” he admits softly. “Just, like, generally.”

Nico softens like a goddamn slab of ice cream on hot pavement. For the second time in three days, he opens his arms in offering, although this time it’s significantly less difficult.

“Come here.”

Without even a beat of hesitation, Will collapses into him, arms around his waist, head tucked under his chin. Nico fights the urge to wince — Will, usually, takes quite a bit of pride in his height. He likes to be the one to wrap around people, not the other way around. Nico has been indoctrinated into Will-affection, in the time since the Giant War, and if Will is the one curling into him, seeking comfort, than he is struggling.

Nico hates it when Will struggles. He always feels out of his depth.

“There, there,” he hedges, feeling a good bit like an NPC. “It’ll be okay.”

Will makes a small, wounded noise. “You don’t know that.”

“Um, yes I do, I know everything forever. I’ve never been wrong even one time in my life.”

His awkward attempt at lightening the mood is rewarded by Will’s laugh. It’s slight, and nowhere near the brightness it usually is, but it’s there and it’s genuine and that’s all Nico wanted, really.

“You good?” Nico asks softly, squeezing his arms.

Will nods. “Yes.” He hesitates. “Can I stay here a little longer?”

Nico wraps his arms impossibly tighter, aching at the quiet vulnerability in his voice.

“As long as you need.”

———

The last practice before the chariot race is nowhere near as fun to watch as the others. In fact, it’s not fun at all.

Clarisse, casted and upright, appoints her brother Sherman to race in her place, much to both his and Will’s very vocal complaints. Will’s, because he still doesn’t want to race at all and especially not now that Clarisse is out of the running, and Sherman’s because, well, when isn’t Sherman complaining about having to breathe the same air as someone or whatever.

Clarisse silences both of them with a glare. “Do it,” she orders.

They comply, stomping over to their practice chariot.

The practice race is awful. Nico is surprised, frankly, that they managed to finish at all, as badly behind as they managed. He could practically hear their squabbling all the way from the stands. For as much as Will is generally easy to get along with, he’s impossible when he’s stubborn, and worse when he’s petulant. He takes every command from Sherman like it’s a personal offence, and Sherman, being who he is, does too. Every shout to veer right or deflect an attack somehow sounds like a jab at Will’s speed, or a remark about his general intelligence. When they stomp off the track, helmets thrown in a heap with the rickety chariot, Nico is almost relieved.

“We’re going to lose, tomorrow, and I can’t wait,” hisses Will darkly, fists curled at his sides.

Nico watches him warily. “You’re not even going to try?”

“What, so he can remind me that even when I’m trying I’m a useless idiot? Not a chance.”

Nico has to almost jog to keep up with him, striding as powerfully as he is. He’s not even sure where he’s going — he seems to be, mostly, going away from the track and from Sherman, wherever that may be.

“You’re not a useless idiot,” Nico offers, when some of the stormcloud has lessened its hold on Will’s usually sunny face. “Nobody thinks you’re a useless idiot.”

Will closes his eyes, sighing. “I know.”

“And Sherman is just a generally grouchy person.”

“I know.”

“It feels very, very weird to be the optimistic and comforting one, right now.”

Will snorts, finally meeting his eyes. “I know.” He flops onto the ground, cheek resting in his knees, and pats the space next to him. Nico sits much more delicately. “I’m sorry I’ve been such an asshole lately.”

“You’ve been stressed,” Nico points out. “A little assholery is warranted.”

“I’m still sorry.”

Nico knocks their shoulders together. “I forgive you, then.”

Will smiles. “Thank you.”

For a while they sit in comfortable silence, watching the hustle and bustle of camp. Will’s presence is a comforting one, even though Nico can feel the turmoil leeching off of him. Strangely because of that, actually — sometimes Nico feels like he’s the only one who struggles out of the two of them. Will spends so much of his time smiling and joking and lecturing, hands on his hips, that Nico had almost forgotten that he doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing, either. He’s just good at faking it.

“I’ll be watching, tomorrow.” He bites his lip. “And I won’t, like, bring pom-poms, or anything, but I’ll be cheering you on.”

Will grins tiredly. “Silently and in your head?”

“Uh-huh.”

His smile softens considerably, melting into something almost shy, before he turns back to face forward.

“Well, then, damn. I guess I’ll have to try.”

———

On the morning of the chariot race, Will acts like Nico is escorting him to his goddamn execution.

“It is a race that will last a maximum of twenty minutes,” Nico says with no small amount of exasperation, “including prep time.”

Will looks no less grim. “A twenty minutes that will never be returned to me.”

Nico rolls his eyes and decides to stop humouring him.

He drops him off at his chariot with a quick pat on the shoulder, jogging back to the stands. They’re full, today, as expected, with every camper and countless others cramped into the minimal space. Nico looks at the shoulder-to-shoulder crowd, and is about to consider breaking his promise and fleeing back to his cabin before he sees a doodled-on hand stick in the air, waving wildly. He exhales in relief and heads over to sit in the spot Kayla and Austin have cleared between them.

“How miserable is he?” Kayla asks brightly, tapping her purple shoes. “He left before we woke up this morning. Assumedly to sprint around camp a few times like a feral cat.”

“Pretty miserable,” Nico answers. He reaches over to pat Austin’s head when he rests on his shoulder, knowing he’s nervous even if he tries not to show it. “A lot of it is self-induced, though. Like, yeah, Sherman is going to be a dick and it’s going to be stressful, but I feel like, in the grand scheme of things, this is among the least stressful things he’s ever been forced to deal with.”

“There was that one time he had to remove a brain tumour in the middle of the forest,” Austin muses. “I think that was probably pretty stressful for him.”

Nico opens his mouth. He closes it again.

“Demigod life is a nightmare,” he settles on eventually.

“Hear, hear,” both siblings mutter.

They lapse into silence as they turn back to the racetrack, evaluating the turnout.

Competition will be hefty.

Sherman has finally arrived, Ares horses in tow. The garish things look almost wrong next to the brightness off the flying Apollo chariot, but that may just be the tension between the team’s charioteers that’s so potent it seems to warp the air around them. Nico is vaguely surprised that they’re managing to stand so civilly next to each other, even if they could not be more visibly uncomfortable. Will, at least, tries for a smile, which drops immediately when Sherman mutters something too quiet to be picked up this far.

Nico sighs. This is going to be hard to watch.

There are about twenty other chariots lines up. Hermes, Hephaestus, and Aphrodite-Iris, like at practice, but Athena is competing too, as well as Nike, as per usual, and Tyche. In fact Nico, and by extension Hades, is one of the few cabins not participating — everyone else seems primed and ready for a chance of laurels and extra dessert. And, of course, settling personal rivalries via bloodshed, et cetera, et cetera.

The biggest competition, if Nico had to quantify it, will be Hephaestus, tricky as they were during practice; Athena, for obvious reasons; and Will and Sherman themselves will be their own worst enemy. He can’t tell if it would be better for them to fail out early to avoid racketing tension up further, or last close to the end to keep things at a healthy simmer.

In the end, it doesn’t matter. The second warning whistle goes off, and the chariots rush to the starting line — Will and Sherman at third position, Demeter to their left, Dionysus-Hypnos to their right. The stands go silent, the charioteers get in position, and with a sharp, shrill whistle, they’re off.

The first few seconds, as always, are chaotic.

In the ground with the settling dust are three separate chariots, including, surprisingly, Hermes, whose rigging backfired and sent their entire chariot up in smoke. They are luckily unharmed due to their unusually well-prepared fireproof armour, but neither Julia nor Connor seem too pleased about being out so soon.

The rest of the race continues on without them. Athena has a decent stretch of first place, but Nike is following fast. Behind them, barely a hair’s breadth of distance, is Will and Sherman, rocketing forward smoothly. Unlike Clarisse, Sherman does not care for giving Will any learning opportunities — despite the horses being Ares’, Will is on the reigns. Sherman is armed with his sword and his spear, slashing and jabbing at anyone who gets too close. Neither Ares or Apollo is big on tricks, not like some of the craftier cabins, but together they’re fast and strong and make a formidable opponent.

Or, well, they would. If they were working together, rather than two people simply being in the same chariot.

They cross into the second lap, Will guiding them across the innermost ring to move them up past Nike. They’re gaining on Athena, now, but that won’t be an easy task — challenging the camp’s wisest never is.

Kayla hisses through her teeth. “Shit.” She purses her lip at the trailing Nike chariot — they’re gaining, and they’re seething. Damien — at least Nico thinks it’s Damien, it’s hard to tell with the helmets — has an arsenal of throwing knives poised in his left hand, and as his teammate steers them steady, he takes aim. Nico has to resist the urge to shout a warning.

As the short knife sails towards the reigns wrapped around Will’s hands, though, aim ringing true, Will’s spine goes ramrod straight. Almost as if he can feel it. With an eighth of a second to spare, he shifts and jerks his hands out of the way, avoiding the knife and managing, somehow, to stay on track.

With a skill and ferocity that has Nico’s jaw brushing his toes, Will dodges all eight of the knives lobbed in his direction. In one memorable manoeuvre, he rips his left hand from the reigns, holding them in his teeth, and uses it to shove Sherman down behind the wall of the chariot right before a knife would have lodged itself in his uncovered cheek. Out of weapons, he steers their chariot right next to Nike, allowing Sherman to sever their reigns and send them rolling to a sad, victory-less stop.

Without pausing to look behind them, they race on.

Athena’s chariot has a lead, but their chariot is built for stability, not speed. They’ve accounted for every possible sabotage and built accordingly. They have not accounted for, however, stubbornness and sheer force of Will. The Ares-Apollo chariot gains on them, helmets glinting, skeletal horses gaining faster, faster, faster. Both Sherman and Malcom, Nico believes, have their spears drawn, ready, as the space between them gets smaller and smaller, to fight barbarically for first — for honour.

Nico doubts even Rachel, powers of prophecy fully restored, could predict what happens next.

Either too furious to accept a loss or simply deciding to throw the game, one of the Nike charioteers crawls out from their carriage, darting onto the live track. They scan the ground, looking for something. When they stand in the dead centre of the track, body perfectly tense, gripping something glinting in their hand, Nico gets it.

Austin gasps, nails digging into Nico’s arm. “Oh, no.”

Before anyone can say anything, they take aim. They measure once, twice, and then let the knife loose with deadly precision, knife cutting through the air with ease and hurdling with impossible power towards to two finalists chariots.

If the knife hits the Athena chariot, it will slice clean through the axle. Architectural wonder it may be, the chariot cannot withstand Celestial bronze at terminal velocity, and it will give, and the chariot will crumple. In an effort to lesson the chariot’s load, the Athena charioteers have largely forgone armour. Their fall will be painful and disastrous; as deadly as Clarisse’s, if not moreso. A hit to the Ares-Apollo chariot will be similarly as race-ending, but both Will and Sherman are in full armour. It will be bruising, but not deadly. They will lose, but they will survive.

All they need to do to win is shift, just slightly, so that the knife hits the Athena chariot.

Will, like with all the others before it, seems to feel this knife coming. Unlike the others, he glances backwards, looking at the knife, looking back at the Athena chariot. Sherman follows his gaze, and seems to realize what Will has calculated a split second after he does. He shouts something — presumably an order to move, to shift, to sabotage.

Will hesitates.

The knife hits the Ares-Apollo chariot, slicing through the left wheel.

It careens around, unbalanced, dragged into a heap by untethered horses.

The Athena chariot pulls forward to victory, the remaining functioning chariots quickly following.

The Ares-Apollo canon is left broken and humiliated only a few feet from victory, the almost-first-place.

———

As soon as they come off the track, things get messy. Both Will and Sherman are covered in dirt and grime, striped with grease from the broken wheels, bleeding sluggishly from various scraps. Sherman has his non-flailing hand clamped to an oozing wound on the side of his neck, and Will is limping.

“—and I cannot fucking believe you, Solace! All I asked for was effort!”

“Oh, forgive me,” Will says sarcastically, finally close enough to hear. “In the hustle and bustle of being shot at, I made a couple errors.”

“That gonna be your attitude in battle? ‘Oh, sorry, there was a monster chasing me so I lost all focus —’”

“Battles are not usually fought on a chariot going a hundred fucking miles per hour!”

“That’s no excuse! You need to be —”

“What, Sherman, fucking what? What indisputable flaw do I have, oh great one, that needs to be so desperately remedied?”

It’s startling when Will’s composure cracks. When he goes from bitey and sarcastic, eye-rolling from his usual distance, to right in Sherman’s face. It’s eerie to see him at his full height, no slouching, reminding anyone watching that yeah, actually, their laidback medic is six-two, strong, capable, in more ways than what they’re used to.

Sherman, in usual Ares kid fashion, doesn’t even flinch.

“Your reflexes, for starters,” he says coolly. “No matter what you do, Solace, you’re always one second too fucking late.”

A collective gasp ricochets through the gathered campers. The tension rackets up so rapidly that Nico coughs, lungs suddenly constricted. Will rears back so violently Nico is half-convinced Sherman actual punched him.

Sherman, for his part, seems to realise he’s crossed some kind of line. The cold look on his face twists into a scowl, uncomfortable and apologetic at once. “Look, Will, I just mean —”

“You don’t get to say that to me.”

Will’s quiet voice seems to echo through the entirety of the valley, cutting through laboured breathing of charioteers, pegasus neighing, even the crashing of the waves in the distant shore — everything goes silent.

Nico likes to think he knows Will pretty well. He knows what he sounds like when he’s giggly, watching his siblings argue about nothing; when he’s excitable, rambling about his newest obsession; when he can’t choose between amused and stern at whatever dumb thing Nico has gotten himself into. He knows what he sounds like when he’s exhausted, too, overworked and done with everything; when he’s annoyed, when he’s hurt and sad.

But he’s never heard Will sound so dangerous.

“Of all people.” His words are articulated, deliberate. The usual warmth of his eyes is gone. He’s completely still in a way he never is outside of surgery — no shaking in his perpetually trembling hands, no bounce to his curls, none of the constant energy that seems to constantly exude off him. Still, cold. Icy. “You do not get to talk to me about being one second too late.”

Sherman looks stricken. Guilt is written across each of his features, and for a second he steps back — as if afraid.

“Will, I —”

The son of Apollo turns without another word, striding over to the distant tree line and disappearing into the woods. No one chases after him.

No one even moves.

———

Predictably, the silence does not last long.

“You fucking idiot!” Clarisse explodes, the second Will is out of eyesight. She bats Chris’s hand away from her, and he, surprisingly, lets her go easily — his usually understanding face has hardened. She hobbles towards her brother, remarkably quick with her clunky cast, and starts truly tearing into him. “I asked you to do one fucking thing! One!”

Sherman quickly gets defensive under the scrutiny. “Well, you didn’t make it fucking easy! Just because he’s your protege doesn’t mean he’s my fucking problem —”

Nico doesn’t stick around to listen to their argument. He searches around the gathered crowd until he meets Kayla’s eyes, flicking his head towards the woods. She nods frantically. Knowing he’ll make sure they have privacy, he takes off, aiming for the same place Will went, barely slowing down once he enters the forest.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Will?” he calls, well aware he’s not going to get an answer. “Where are you?”

While there’s definitely no response from Will, he damn near jumps out of his skin when a dryad melts from her tree, shuffling towards him.

“Blond boy?” she asks, leaning close so he can hear her whisper. “Tall? Crying?”

Nico swallows. Fuck. “Yeah.”

“Headed down southeast, ways past Zeus’ fist.“

“Thank you,” he says, hoping she understands how much he means it.

She nods, then disappears back into her tree.

Following her directions, Nico jogs down beaten paths, heading in the direction that he is vaguely sure is southeast and mostly praying that he’ll find Will eventually. He shouldn’t have that much of a head start, since Nico left maybe five minutes after he did, but who knows. Will’s fast, and sometimes this forest seems bigger than it really is. It’s easy to get lost.

He searches for what feels like hours, and might actually be hours; sky darkening as the sun disappears into the lake. The temperature drops significantly. Nico is hoping that he won’t be spending the night sleeping in the dirt when he hears sniffling.

Heart pounding, he freezes, focusing on the sound. It’s muffled, sobs choked-off and sound hidden behind cupped hands. The echo sounds strange, too; it’s close, that much is obvious, but Nico almost can’t tell if it’s coming from the left or the right. Truthfully, it doesn’t sound like either.

On impulse, he looks up. Almost invisible in the branches of a large oak tree is Will, stained clothes blending in with the scratchy bark, leaves covering the rest of him.

Except, perhaps fittingly, his bright, golden hair.

Worried that calling out to him might startle him right off the tree, Nico begins to climb. He’s not great at climbing — he doesn’t have a natural sense of what is and isn’t a good foothold — but oak trees are easy. Every half-step has a branch, and this tree is old enough that the branches are thick, sturdy. He’s twenty feet up before he even realizes, barely breaking a sweat.

He pauses a few feet shy of his target, straightening until he’s standing on an almost flat branch, arm looped tightly around the trunk.

“Will.”

Will startles. He looks around frantically, struggling in the dark, until his bloodshot eyes finally land on Nico. He bursts into more tears, shoulders shaking as he sobs.

Alarmed, Nico crawls all the way up.

“Woah, Will, breathe, vita, breathe —”

He’s not sure what tree-sobbing etiquette is, but regular sobbing etiquette often involves some kind of comforting physical touch, so he goes with that. And Will, he knows, likes to be crowded, likes to be almost suffocated with the sights and touch and smells of other people, to remind him he’s not alone, even if he feels it. So Nico scoots as closely as he dares, legs wrapped around the branch, and slides one arm around Will’s back, one against his chest, and tugs him closely.

Will comes easily.

With a bit of manoeuvring, he’s tucked under Nico’s chin, shoulders hunched and shaking, enveloped entirely in Nico’s arms. He can feel a wet spot growing on his left sleeve, and honestly he should be at least a little bit disgusted, but he barely even notices. He’s too busy fighting the lump in his own throat, blinking back his own tears.

“It’s gonna be okay,” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to Will’s curls. “Let it out, Will. You’re allowed.”

Will wails, a deep, choking, broken sound, and Nico loses the battle with his own tears. He’s never heard Will like this. He’s never heard anyone like this, except himself, in the echo of this same forest, years ago. It hurts like biting ice.

“It hurts, they’re gone, they’re gone, and I hate them, I hate them so much —” he heaves, dragging in breath like it cost him to say it, like part of his soul was dragged out of his vocal chords — “and I hate myself for hating them, I hate, they’re gone, I’m never —”

He dissolves into sobs, again, words breaking into nothing understandable, crying around the same repetitions over and over again. Nico hides his crumpling face in Will’s hair, wincing at every broken cry, every hitched breath, every moaned word. His heart feels like it’s breaking into a million fractals. He’s never felt so out of depth in his life.

“Let it out,” he whispers again, for a lack of anything else to say. “Let it out, sweetheart, let it out.”

For a long time, Nico had no one to hold him.

When he lost Bianca, he was by himself. And when he thought he had someone to guide him, someone to fix him, he was wrong — he was vulnerable and easy to manipulate. He had no one to hold him until he was too bitter and too closed off to let himself fall apart, anyway, and losing Bianca stayed somewhere rotten inside him, a bruise that never, ever stopped aching.

Until Will.

Last December he had cracked like an egg. He hadn’t meant to — it wasn’t even in the back of his mind — but he’d opened the door to Will’s smiling face on the morning, cold and sad as it was, and just started bawling. Some part of him, some deep, buried part, stomped it’s way from the prison Nico had kept it in and took the hell over, yanking open the floodgates, forcing him to expel every last drop of shadowy, strangling pain that had stayed inside him so long. He thought he was going to die. His entire body shook and jerked like a rowboat in a deep ocean storm, and it had been Will’s lighthouse, his endless, light eyes, his warm hands, his firm hold that had held him steady until he’d dragged himself out to the other side. It was and is the most painful thing he’d ever done in his life. And the most important.

He doesn’t think Will has had anyone to hold him, before, either. Not ‘til right this moment. Not Chiron, not his mother, and certainly not an older sibling. Will has been running on empty for as long as Nico has known him. Longer.

“Let it out,” Nico whispers again, and holds him tighter.

———

By the time either of them move again, it’s pale, early morning, and they’re damp from the dew and Will’s tears. Nico is as stiff as the tree he’s sitting on, but doesn’t dare say a word about it.

“I don’t want to go back,” Will croaks, the first either of them have spoken in hours.

Nico tucks a strand of hair behind his ear, resting a gentle hand on his cheek. “Okay.”

“We can’t stay here forever.”

“We can stay a while.” Nico pulls away slightly, just enough so that he can cradle Will’s face in both hands, tilting his chin up to meet his gaze. “I mean it, Will. As long as you need.”

“What if I’ll never have enough time?”

“Then I’ll stay with you until time runs out.” He presses a tentative, careful kiss to the centre of his freckled forehead; staying when Will shudders, leaning into it. Against his skin, he murmurs, “But you’ll have enough time, vita. You’re the strongest person I know.”

“I don’t want to be strong.”

“So don’t, I gotcha.” He presses another kiss slightly above the first, and another, resting again at the crown of his head. “But you can be.”

They stay like that until Nico’s face starts to go numb, and even then he doesn’t go far, shifting so his cheek lays on the top of Will’s skull. He ignores the slight tickle of his curls against his nose, focusing instead on the brand of his hands on his waist, the shakey but constant inhales, holds, exhales, again, again, again.

“Clarisse is my friend,” Will starts. “She was as important to me as — as Cass, before the war.”

Nico hums. “But she betrayed you.”

“All of us.”

“And you resent her for it, a little.”

Will nods. “It’s disgusting.”

“It’s human, Will, Christ.” He moves them around so they’re both sitting facing each other, Nico’s eyes firmly meeting Will’s. “I will never fully forgive Percy for letting Bianca die. Never. It’s not fair to him, and I love him anyway, and I am choosing to move past it. But I will carry that burden. Am I disgusting for that?”

Will glances away. “No.”

“Will, you — look at me.”

He does.

“Clarisse actively chose her pride over her people. So did the rest of her cabin. She’s not fully responsible for that choice, and the blame, as always, lands on Kronos’ shoulders, but —” Nico laughs, a bitter, defeated sound. “Out of all of us, you lost the most. No one lost as many as Apollo. No one burned as many shrouds. You’re allowed to be hurt, allowed to be angry.”

“I forgave them,” Will admits. “I did it publicly and called off the stupid rivalry right after the war. It was the first thing I did as head counsellor.”

“Trying to do what Michael would have done?”

“Are you kidding me, he —” Will scoffs, swiping at the tears trickling down the corners of his eyes. “If Michael were alive, and he found out I forgave them after what happened to Lee, too Diana — he would have been furious. He would stop speaking to me. If I was trying to be like Michael, I might’ve refused them treatment.”

Nico tries to imagine that for a second — Will refusing anyone treatment. It makes something sour uncurl in his stomach, something unsettling.

“You would never refuse someone treatment. I didn’t even — I didn’t think you guys were allowed.”

Will shrugs. “There are no rules to our practice. I just never made refusal an option, and the kids are too young to know any different.”

‘The kids’ — as if Kayla and Austin aren’t as old or older than Will was when he was in charge, when he held the bashed pieces of his brother’s brain as it oozed out of his skull. As he sat, exhausted, hands shaking, next to Nico, and embroidered twelve shrouds. As if Yan and Gracie are his, rather than Apollo’s.

“You forgave them so your siblings wouldn’t grow up bitter,” Nico realises. “Oh, gods, Will.”

He shrugs again, picking at his nails. “For me too. Grudges aren’t healthy.” He tries for a teasing smile. “You’d know.”

“I would.” Nico tries to smile back. It’s easier than he thought it would be, although it fades back into something serious quickly. He reaches out, linking his hands with Will’s to stop him picking before he bleeds. “You can be selfish sometimes, you know.”

“Not in front of anyone.”

“You’re admitting it in front of me,” Nico points out.

Will hesitates. “That’s — different.”

“How?”

“You get it.” He looks down, voice quiet. “You get me. I can —” He meets Nico’s eyes again, a kind of helpless smile on his face. “I dunno. You’re safe. You’re okay with me, even when I’m ugly.”

“Even then,” Nico echoes quietly. He reaches up and tucks a strand of hair behind Will’s ear again, even though none were loose. His fingertips linger, and the skin under his touch warms. “Especially then.”

“You can, too, you know, I lo —”

“I know.”

Will exhales in relief. “Good.”

He slumps forward until his forehead rests on the swell of Nico’s shoulder, breaths warming the air between them. Nico tries to match his rhythm — in, out, in, out. Hold. Out, in.

“Can we — hide here, for a little bit? Just a little longer.”

“Of course,” Nico murmurs, squeezing his wrists. “I’ll hide you as long as you need.”

[romerona]

All Y/N ever wanted to do was sing her songs and be free. Yet somehow, after offering to pay for the meal of a certain boy in a straw hat she finds herself causing havoc through the East Blue.

Masterlist - Next.

Trigger warning: Harassment, canon violence. Word count: 8K

A/N: The only thing I will be describing about Y/N is her hair colour. Everything else you can imagine her as you wish.

Disclaimer: The songs I will be using in this fic aren't mine bc I have 0 creativity. I'm sorry.

Shells Town, 153 Marine Branch.

Y/N, huffing and puffing, speeds walk through the townspeople, she was late for her shift at Food Foo and all because of that absolute idiot.

That little fucking weasel, he is. Ugh!!! just thinking about it makes her blood boil even more. Whatever, it’s her own fault, she should have known better than to get close to Cygnus or any man really.

She scoffs to herself. ‘She’s no good’ As if he was any better. Both of them had their own things, their own faults, Y/Nthought that was part of why they connected in the first place but it seems she was mistaken. And Y/N would have believed that was his reason for 'dumping' her but she has heard the rumours. She has heard the whispers of him charming up the daughter of one of the lieutenants...

It doesn’t matter anyway, she has been in Shells town for about 6 months now, and she should probably leave soon.

When she finally arrives at Food Fo, Y/N sends Ayana a guilty look when the owner of the restaurant sends her the ‘warning’ look.

Y/N didn’t wait for her to start scolding her, she quickly walked behind the counter, left her guitar there and grabbed her apron, wrapping it around herself and muttering as she did. “I know I know. I’m sorry, Ayana,”

“At least you're here. It seems today is going to be a busy day,” the woman said from the bar, nodding at the plenty of marines, most already falling in their cups.

“Lovely,” Said Y/N with no enthusiasm.

The Marines are the worst. The very fucking worst, they are vile and foul.

Ayana hums in agreement as a cook passes a platter of dumplings, she takes it and then passes it to Y/N before pointing at the table on the back. “Table 5, then take these drinks to 11.”

“Got it,” Y/N nods and quickly makes her way to it, smiling at the customers, a couple, charmingly. “A plate of dumplings for you, a couple of peanuts. Let me know if you need anything else, okay?”

With that, she left to take the drinks to table 11 whilst greeting her coworkers with a smile as she walked past them. Hours pass and Y/N continues her shift, ignoring the shameless flirting and other hiccups…

“Here are your pork chops and Oden Soup, and not to be biased but our Oden Soup is the best in the whole town,” Y/N said as she softly laid the plate on the table before smiling at the couple and parroting, “Okay, let me know if there’s anything else I can help with, okay?”

“Yeah, thanks,” said the guy.

“I wasn’t aware they hire about any skank from the streets,” the girl says under her breath before glaring up at Y/N.

“Bree!!” The boyfriend looks at his girlfriend With exasperation.

The girl, scoffs crossing her arms, “What? Don’t tell me you didn’t notice the way she’s parading herself around? Everyone here notices it,”

“Bree, please can you not?”

“Can I not what, Laurent? Can I not call her out for her attitude, huh? Why are you defending her?”

Y/N purses her lips, holding back the words that want to escape her lips and takes a couple of steps back, “I’m going to go now…”

“Yeah, you do that,” sharply said the girl, once again her narrow eyes on Y/N.

The girl simply turns and makes her way back to the bar. She leans against the bar and closes her eyes, a tired sigh leaves her.

“Bad table?” Asks Asimi, one of her many coworkers and friends.

Y/N shrugs turning to her, “Nothing unusual, but today has not been my day…”

“I’ll switch mine with yours,” said Rei, another waitress, as she passed a new order to the cook. “I have the most entitled Marines right now, they had me return their meals 3 times already because it's just 'not like what they’re used to' like one would think they got their swords stuck up their ass or something,”

Y/N and Asimi laugh.

“I’m being serious, Y/N, switch tables with me. They’ll be less dickheads to you thanks to that pretty face of yours.” Rei said pinching Y/N's cheek.

Y/N shakes her head, moving away from the girl's fingers, “Thanks for the compliment babes but I’ll take my chances with the match made in heaven,”

“Worth a shot,”

Ayana places two cups in front of Y/N and points at the group in the back, “Table 3, please Y/NN,”

Y/N takes the cups and walks to the table of Marines. She once again smiles at the men as she sets the drinks down. “Here you are! Two beers for the gentleman’s.”

“Hey sweetheart, can I get another round of sake?” Said an older Marine from the next table to them.

Y/N nods, “Sure thing, sweets, anything else you want?”

“Is a kiss from you on the menu?” Laughs the old Marine earning chuckles from others.

Ugh! Disgusting!

“Not on this one, fortunately for me!” Y/N said as he picked up a few empty cups. “However, If you read the menu closer there’s your captain's number in there somewhere maybe you can call it so he can give you that kiss you want? Hope you don’t mind steel, though,”

The Marines around them laughed and so did the older man, Y/N was slightly relief because there had been instances where the Marines did not enjoy her… sense of humor.

Y/N didn’t wait for a response she simply took the last empty cups and made her way back to the bar. She turns to Ayana “A bottle of sake for table 4”

Ayana nods as she looks for the bottle, and Y/N lets her head fall back. She pressed her hands on her shoulders.

Gods, she hates working. Why does she continue working in this job?

Then, as if on cue, Y/N felt two tiny arms wrapping themselves around her middle. Ah, yes, because she’s a softy…. And money.

“Y/NN!!” Rika, Ayana’s daughter, looks up at her.

“I was wondering when you’ll show up,” Y/N laughed as she leaned down to return the hug. “How was school, Rikis?”

“It was alright,” Rika shrugs stepping back, she grins. “I practised the cup trick you showed me,”

“Did you? Well, in that case, you have no choice but to show me, little miss,” Y/N smiles at the girl, she nudges the girl with her elbow teasingly as Ayana places the bottle of sake on the bar.

“Nooo…” Rika chuckles hiding her face under her hands.

“Rika, go change,” Ayana tells her daughter motioning the door that leads to the kitchens.

“We’ll talk about it,” Y/N takes the green bottle and winks at Rika as she moves to take the sake to the Marines.

A couple of more hours pass and the bar thankfully the customers flow in and out with ease. Y/N was glad that her shift would soon be over so she could finally play with the band.

“Take the orders from 16, Y/NN, then you're off,” Ayana says with a nod at the two boys who had just sat down at a table.

“Right on,”

Y/N makes her way to the two boys, one of them has pinkish hair, and round glasses and the other a dark curls under a straw hat and a red vest.

“Hello guys, welcome to Food Foo!” Y/N smiles at them like she does with all her customers. “Can I get you, handsome gentlemen, some drinks to start before deciding what to order?”

The boy with pink hair turned a shade of deep red, a shade Y/N had never seen very little in her life, it was kind of funny. “Uh… I- I…”

“No need, I want one of everything and a milk, please.” Said the boy with the straw hat, smiling back at Y/N.

Y/N was slightly surprised but nodded nonetheless, “A big appetite you’ve got there sweets.”

“Ah, I just love food,” the boy said, tapping his stomach with a grin.

“Who doesn’t?” Y/N nods, writing on her pad, “Food is the best part of life, I’ll say.”

“Right?!! It’s just amazing,”

Y/N laughed at his excitement, he was like a puppy. He was cute. She then turns to the boy in round glasses, “What can I get you to drink, pretty boy?”

“Uh… a- a water would be nice, thank you,” the bright red was still displaying itself on the boy's cheeks.

“Alright, everything will be ready in a few minutes, boys,” She told them, “If you want anything else, please don’t hesitate to call for me,”

With a last smile she left them. She then went to do a few more rounds, cleaning away the dishes and cups, collecting money and such before she was called to pick up the food for the two boys.

“Alright, here you are!” Y/N places the plates on the table. “One of everything,”

Before she even finished putting the plates on the table the boy in a straw hat was already almost finishing his first plate.

“Thank you,” the boy said, his muffled by the food in his mouth.

The boy with pink hair sends her a small grin, “Thank you, miss.”

“No problem boys, call if you need anything else,”

As she left, she glanced at the clock and let out a sigh of relief. Her shift is over, thank the gods. She walked behind the counter took off her apron and took her guitar before walking through the kitchens, where she greeted the cooks.

“You playing today, Y/NN?” asks Gunny, one of the cooks, offering her a plate of chips.

She grins at him as she takes one chip, “Yeap, and I better see you at least once, dumpling. Even if it's peaking.”

“Y’know I never miss your performances,” said the man returning her grin.

Y/N walks to the back of the bar where there is a small room for employees, to change into her clothes. She put in a bit of makeup, some light colour over her eyes, a bit of pink in her cheeks and painted her lips a soft red shade.

“You look so pretty, Y/NN… can you paint me too?” asks Rika, she had slithered her way into the small room a few minutes ago and was watching her do her makeup.

“Last I did, your Ma wasn't happy about it, Rikis,” Y/N told her looking at the girl through the mirror as she twisted her silver locks in a loose braid. “And considering she's the one I'm renting my room to and my boss, I’d rather not risk it.”

Rika huffs in disappointment, leaning against the wall. “You think one day I'll be as pretty as you?”

“What do you mean?” Y/N smiles at her and pulls Rika to look at herself in the mirror next to her. “You are the prettiest girl I know, Rikis.”

“Really?” asks the young girl.

Y/N stands from the old vanity table and sits the girl on the chair. “You so are, sweet girl,” She takes the girl's hair to pull it on a half-up style. “See? You have the prettiest face, and a pretty smile and pretty eyes… and most importantly a pretty heart."

Rika smiles at herself in the mirror, and a giggle escapes her. Rika was such a good child, so very kind. As she stares, Y/N wonders with longing if she has grown to be kind and nice, she should be a couple of years older than Rika if Y/N recalls correctly…

“Are you going to play a love song?” asks Rika, snapping Y/N out of her train of thought.

Y/N wrinkles her nose and shakes her head, “Don’t think so, Rikis.”

“Why?”

“I’m just not feeling it,”

“How come? Did something happened with Cygnus? Did you broke up with him?” The young girl inquires, her eyes twinkling with intrigued.

Y/N let’s out a chuckle, “You are very noisy, sweet cheeks.”

“I’m just informative,” Rika shrugs innocently.

“Of course, you are.” Y/N scoffs a laugh, she nudges Rika’s shoulder. “Come, let’s go out.”

“Oh, please Y/NN,”

“Nope. How about you go make me something sweet for after the show?”

They walk outside, Rika complaining about Y/N not telling her but the older girl simply ignores her and leaves her near the counter before walking to the bar band.

“Hello, dears, ready for tonight?” Y/N said as she approached the three older gentlemen, they had been letting her play a few songs a night with them since she arrived, always practising new songs on the slow days and late nights.

Duke, the violinist, nods as he takes a large gulp of his beer. “As always, lovey.”

“Never expect any less,” Y/N grins, she moves to the small wooden stage, guitar on hand and her charm full on.

As soon as she did, a few cheers echoed around the bar.

Using a Den Den Mushi, Y/N’s voice rings out through the room, with a charisma and ease that speaks of years of practice. "Why, hello everybody!" she exclaims, gazing at the growing crowd of Marines and civilians. "How’s the day been treating ya lot? Better than me I hope.”

The audience cheers, and Y/N’s smile grows wider and lets out a laugh. “Very good, very good.. but how about a song to better it, aye?”

She launches into her first ballad, her voice rising with the rhythm of her guitar.

“I've been sleepin' in my mind

But now my heart is risin'

Risin' with the tide

Floating on a wave

Buoyed by the sea

Carry me away 'cause the world is not for me”

The crowd claps along, lost in the music and the charm of the girl on stage. It's a moment of pure joy, as Y/N’s voice fills the room with sweet melody and a spirit of celebration.

As she continues her song, Y/N noticed someone in between the crowd, a blonde pain in the ass. It took everything in her not to roll her eyes at the sight of Helmeppo.

Out of everyone, the son of the captain (as he always likes to remind everyone about) was the most spoiled, disrespectful, persistent and annoying guy she had come across in her short years of freedom and best believe she had met some annoying people but no one can compare to the blonde with the bad hair.

No matter how many times Y/N has asked him to fuck off, he simply refuses to. It’s as if he couldn't understand the words that come out of her mouth… honestly, she’s never one for violence but she’s getting to a limit.

“No matter where you land or how far you may fall

You have heart, you have hands

And the highest calling of our lives

Is to find the grace at the very place we stand”

With the final chords of her song, she finishes with a flourish and a cheerful smile. The crowd erupts in applause and cheers, ready for more of Y/N’s enchanting performances.

“How’s that for starters, eh?” Y/N’s chuckles at the cheers.

She gives the crowd a cheeky grin and strums her guitar with an extra dose of gusto. She launches into another lively tune, her fingers dancing across the strings as she belts out the words. The crowd is absolutely hypnotized, swinging their heads and tapping their feet to the beat. Y/N’s energy is contagious, and it's not long before the whole bar is rocking with cheer.

The vibe is electric, and it's clear that Y/N is the star of the show. Unfortunately, it didn’t last long because just as she was making her way to the second verse there was the loud distinguish sound of a sword being drawn and the loud pompous voice of Helmeppo ran through the bar.

“Oh, come on, tough guy. Three swords?”Y/N saw him pointing his sword at a green-headed guy who didn’t seem to care as the spoiled blonde teased. “I only need one.”

Y/N tried to keep going but it was almost impossible when the guy with green hair deflected Helmeppo's attack and easily pushed him down, and soon after, a brawl between five or so marines and the one green-haired guy with… what looked like three swords. The guy fought them with ease, he never even drew any of his swords only using his hands as a defence.

It would have been impressive… if he hadn’t thrown one Marine towards her drummer, knocking him back onto the floor.

“Holy- Stu!!” the band gathered around the man who was under a groaning Marine officer.

When Stu is being helped by the other meme era of the band, Y/N turns to glare at the green-headed guy only to see him grab Helmeppos from the floor and pin him against the bar.

“Don’t kill me, please.” Helmeppos pleads with the guy, showing his true colours. “My father will give you anything you want.”

The green-haired guy asks “Who’s your father?”

“Captain Morgan. He’s in charge of the Marine base.” Whimpers Helmeppos.

“Then he owes me money.”

And with that, the green-haired guy dragged Helmeppos and a sack… of something out of the bar followed by a few other Marines.

“Fuck, am I bleeding?” The voice of the Marine woman. She wasn’t bleeding but there was a big red spot in her head.

Y/N helps the woman up and sits her on a near by stall. “No, you're alright.”

“Hey, Y/NN bring some ice for Stu, looks like he got a bump.” Said Duke.

“Yeah,”

As she made her way to the kitchen, she came across something more interesting… an orange-haired girl taking the uniform off a knocked-out Marine and hiding it under her clothes, nothing subtle about that.

The girl didn’t seem to have noticed Y/N, much to her surprise, until she spoke. “Y’know if you walk out of here with that uniform you’ll get arrested, right?”

The girl jumps up and turns to Y/N. “My boyfriend, he got hurt fighting off the drunk guy, I'm just taking it off to prevent it from getting dirtier.”

Y/N looked down at the middle-aged man with receding hairline and then at the orange-haired girl who was definitely too pretty to be the fallen Marine anything but… she’ll play along.

“Right, well, in that case, let me bring you a bag so you can put it there instead,” Y/N said, she turned to leave but was stopped by the girl. She grabbed her arm and turned her back around.

“I don’t need—“

“Believe me, pumpkin, you do!” Y/N motions to the bar exit which is surrounded by other Marines who seem to have already forgotten about the fight. “And unless you don’t want to get dragged to the cells I’ll recommend you wait for me here and let me bring you a bag, I promise it’s not a trap or anything.”

“That’s exactly what someone who’s planning a trap would say,” the girl with bright blue eyes said, still not letting go of her arm.

Y/N shrugs, “Maybe so, but I don’t have any reason to do that.”

“And you don’t have any reasons to help me either,” the girl replies instantly.

“Ah, but I do,” Y/N got closer to the girl and whispered without breaking eye contact, “Fuck the Marines,”

With that Y/N backs away from the girl's hold and moves to the kitchens. She swiftly takes some ice from the freezer and wraps it around a napkin and then a paper bag. She only hopes the girl actually listens to her.

Why are you helping, you might ask well, Y/N has a history with them beyond her interactions with them in the bar and knows their lack of morals. They are good for nothing and always abuse their power… so, fuck them.

Thankfully, the girl did listen to her. When Y/N went back to her she was met by the sight of a pant-less Marine. “Oh, no honey. You do not want to use his pants.”

“Can’t you just give me the bag and move on?” Said the girl, clearly annoyed.

Y/N sighs as she passes her the paper bag. “Sure but I’ll just say that if you wear his pants you’ll look like a clown.”

“Why do you care what I look?” The girl says ripping the bag out of her hand.

“I’m just helping a girl out, that’s all.” Y/N shrugs glancing at the girl's legs. “Listen, I know it’s none of my business—“

“— you’re right, it’s not.”

“— but whatever is it that you’re planning will be ruined because of a pair of pants. So, if you need some pants that go with that shirt, I might have something that could work for you.”

The girls look at Y/N suspiciously “What do you—“

“Y/N, what’s taking you so long?” Duke shouts earning the girl's attention.

“Yeah, coming,” Y/N turns to the girl with the orange hair, “I’ll be out in about an hour, if you want you can meet me in the fountain just a few houses from here,”

With that Y/N makes her way to the stage and gives the napkin to Stu. “Here! Press it firmly because it seems like you're growing a horn, dear.”

“Quit messing with me, girl!”

After a few more minutes of helping Stu out, it was more than decided he couldn’t play anymore so, they cut the show short. Unfortunately.

So, to kill time, she ordered herself water (Which she dumped a large amount of salt when no one was looking) while listening to Rika theatrically replay what happened with Helmeppos and the guy with green hair, a pirate hunter. It seems Helmeppos finally meet the ass-beating he’s been looking for…. Good.

She should give the guy in green her gratitude.

“And he also said my chocolate cover rice balls were delicious,” Rika blushes.

Y/N chuckles, placing a hand on her head, “Don’t tell me little Rikis has a crush on the pirate hunter,”

Rika blushes even further, she swaps Y/N’s hands off her head. “Stooopppp, Y/NN, it’s not funny,”

“Right, sorry.” Y/N chuckles, and she takes a sip of her salty water. “So, are you going to let me taste those delicious chocolate rice balls or those are only for the hunter?”

“Mom said I can’t do that anymore,” Rika said with a huff of dissatisfaction.

“Shame, I really wanted to try it.” Y/NN pouts.

“I can make you something—“

“You should go home and get ready for school tomorrow,” said Ayana from behind the bar.

“But mom-“

“No, go home, Rika. It’s getting late.”

“Fine,” Rika huffs as she stood up from her seat and turns to Y/N, “Night, Y/NN.”

“Nighty sweet girl,” She said back, waving as the young girl leave.

Y/N sighed taking a sip of her water and looking around the bar, it wasn't her first time working as a waitress but this one bar, she had become accustomed to. It was a nice place, she’s never really appreciated it but it was, people here were friendly, caring, kind… Y/N almost does not wish to leave but she has to, she has to keep moving otherwise the past will soon come knocking banging her door down.

“Y/NN,” calls Ayana, making the girl turn to her. The older woman places an envelope in front of her. “This month's pay plus tips for the performances.”

“Thanks,” Y/N takes the envelope and looks in it. A happy amount of berry…. This should be enough. “Hey, Ayana,”

The woman hums in response as she passes a bottle of rum at a Marine before moving to wipe something off the bar.

“I think it’s time for me to go,”

That made the woman stop and turn to her with a frown. “What? Why?”

“It seems now the time,” Y/N smiles at the woman, “I did tell you I’ll be here temporarily,”

“Yeah but… I thought you’d stay a bit longer, it’s been what two-three months?” Ayana moves to face Y/N.

“Six but y’know what they say, time flies by when you’re having fun,” Y/N grins at the woman who in return rolls her eyes. “But, I do need to leave, Ayana. I’m sorry.”

She regards Y/N for a moment she purses her lips before nodding, “If it can’t be helped, I suppose I let you go.”

“You’ve helped me immensely, I really don’t know how to thank you for all that,” Y/N tells the woman honestly.

“Don’t,” said the woman as another waitress came to give her something, “You’ve been a delight to— what do you mean they won’t pay?”

“I reckon the boy with the straw hat said he’ll come back to pay you once he’s king of the pirates.” Said the waitress.

Ayana huffs, and she shakes her head. “Bring him here because I swear to the all four blue seas today it’s not the day to fuck with me.”

The waitress leaves to bring the poor soul who’s about to get their ass handed today. Ayana scoffs crossing her arms, waiting which she hadn’t had to do for long because the waitress returned not seconds after with two familiar boys in tow. One looking oblivious and the other nervous.

“Hello!” Said the straw hat guy.

Ayana narrows her eyes, “Don’t hello me, you little punk, where’s my money?”

“You see, I don’t have it yet but I promise I’ll come back once I find the one piece to pay you. With interest.”

“The one piece?” Scoffs Ayana, “Who do you think you are, boy?”

“I’m Monkey D. Luffy and I will be king of the pirates.” The boy, Luffy, said with pride and too much conviction that if Y/N didn’t know any better she’d actually believe him.

Ayana shakes her head in disbelief, “Well, Mr future King of the Pirates, unfortunately, I can’t let you leave without paying so either give me the money you practically inhale in food or I’ll have to call the Marines to take you, your Highness.”

“I do need to get inside the base—“ Luffy was cut off by the pink-haired boy.

“No, please, listen is there something we can do to make up for it?” He asks, fidgeting where he stands, obviously nervous under the woman’s gaze.

As Y/N watched the two boys she couldn’t help but chuckle. There was something about this Monkey D. Luffy… he is so unique. So, she decided.

“No need to do anything, pretty boy,” Y/N said earning everyone's attention. She puts a few berry bills on the table. “That must cover it, right?”

“Y/N, you don’t have to pay for them,”

Y/N smiles at Ayana who was frowning back at her. “Call it my last good deed on this bar,”

Ayana huffs, she stares at the Berry before shaking her head. “Keep it, kid, for your travel.”

“No, honestly, Ayana—“

“I won’t hear anything else,” Ayana sighs, massaging he sides of her head as she walks Into the kitchen. “I need a drink,”.

After a moment of silence, as Y/N was reluctantly pulling the Berry back into the envelope Luffy speaks.

“Hey, thanks for that,” he said causing Y/N to turn her head to him.

“No problem, Monkey D. Luffy.” She grins at him.

The pink haired boy walks forward cheeks comically still red, “W-why did you offered to pay for us? It was quite a lot.”

Y/N shrugs, “I’ll scratch your back you’ll scratch mine, right?”

“You want us to scratch your back?” Luffy tilts his head making Y/N laugh.

“No, stud,” Y/N shakes her head as she moves to her feet, she smirks at Luffy placing a hand forward. “However, I do hope you remember my name when you become the King of pirates,”

Luffy takes her hand in his and shakes, “Why don’t you join my crew? We’ll need a musician on board to keep the spirits high, you’ll be perfect.”

Y/N chuckles and shakes her head, “I’ll swallow my own guitar before becoming a pirate,”

“What? Why? Being a pirate is awesome,” asks Luffy, the boy was still shaking her hand.

“Because I have had bad experiences with them, so, I’ll much rather not be part of that life,” Y/N said, looking down at the hands that still shake. “You can let go of me now, stud.”

“Oh, right!” Luffy let’s go of her, “But just because you’ve had bad experience with Pirates doesn’t mean they are all like that, we can be different.”

Y/N smiles and looks behind the boy at the clock in the wall. “Maybe but I’ll rather not find out the bad way again. I’ve to go now, Monkey D. Luffy, it was nice meeting you.”

She turns to the pink hair boy with round glasses “You too…”

“Koby,” the boy informs.

“Koby. It was nice meeting you lot,” Y/N says before moving to the exit, ignoring the cat calls from drunk Marines.

As she walks to the fountain, she can’t helped but scoffs at the thought of her being a pirate out of all things. Pirates took everything from her, in what world would she ever become in the thing that almost destroys her?

“Took you long enough,” The familiar voice makes her head snap up.

Y/N grins as she approaches the girl, “I know, sorry. Would you believe me if I told you I just met the future king of the pirates?

The orange-haired girl scoffs, "Another fool who believes they can find the one piece? Right."

"Ha!" Y/N chuckles, shaking her head. She does share the sentiment. "He seems very determined, perhaps he’ll actually do it, though I doubt it,"

"I'll belive it when I see it," The girl scoffs again, she then seems to sober up to ask Y/N, "So, the pants you mention?"

"Right, they're in my room, it's not ar from here just a few houses down," Y/N tells the girl who narrow her eyes.

"Convenient,"

"You can stay here if you want?" Y/N offers, with a tilt of her head, "I have no problem in getting them for you, pumpkin,"

The girl stares at Y/N for a moment, trying to figure out if she's lying or not. "... Fine, I'll wait."

"I won't be long," Y/N calls as she continues her walk to the space just in between a shoe shop and a gardening store.

As soon as was inside her room, Y/N lit up a few candles to light the small room. She puts her guitar down and goes to the dresser to search for a pair of pants, she did own quite a bit of clothes so it would take her a minute. Ever so often, Y/N comes across the few vials of poison she stacks in her clothed for safety and a few of her modified hand fans reminding her that she has to buy a few more vials just before leaving Shells town.

After another minute she finally found the black pants and was on her way back to the girl with orange hair.

"Here! They should fit,” Y/N said, leaning against the fountain and watching as the girl unfolded the pants and placed them over her legs.

When she was satisfied she nodded before folding it back again, narrowing her eyes at Y/N "Why are you helping me? And don't bullshit me with that fuck the Marines excuse. Even as someone who hates the Marines, you're going out of your way to help, why is that?"

"Is it too hard to belive some people just like to see them burn?" Y/N chuckles, she sighs, stiffing a little as she speaks. “The Marines fucked me over, more than once… I just want to make their life miserable even if just a little,”

“And what do you want? Nothing ever is for free in this life, so tell me. I’ve got berry-“The girl huffs crossing her arms.

“I don’t need Berry,” Y/N interrupts, she shrugged thinking for a moment, “Unless you have a boat I don’t think there’s anything you can give me,”

“Say I do, what do you need a boat for?”

Y/N gazes at her, “A ride to the next town,”

“Fine, be at the docks by 12, and not a minute late or I’ll leave you,” the Orange-haired girl said sternly.

“Deal,” Y/N holds her hand out, “I’m Y/N, by the way.”

“Nami,” she shook her hand once.

Y/N nods with a wink and starts to walk away, “Right, well, good luck tomorrow, Nami. I’ll be thinking about you,”

Y/N thought she saw a smile on Nami but it was gone as soon as it came.

When morning rolled around, Y/N, with her one bag packed and guitar in hand made her last errands, which included saying her goodbyes to Riki and the employees of Food Foo, it was a teary one but it was better than leaving without saying goodbye. She then needed to get some poison…

There is where everything went to shit.

She needed poison and to get it she had to buy it from Cygnus, unfortunately. Cygnus owns a fish shop in the market street but it was a cover for other more illicit sells.

When she got there Y/N was met with her ex-fling and his new and very hostile victim. Y/N knew who she was, the girl was the daughter of an influential lieutenant of the base, and she like Helmeppos made sure to use it as a threat.

The girl was known for getting people she didn't like in jail for the stupidest things and out of fear most people rather stay out of her way or let her walk all over them.

Y/N, in all honestly, didn't care about her but it seems she should have at least been a bit careful because it wasn't even 10 minutes into the awkward and tense negotiation when she was being dragged to the marine base because the girl started screaming that Y/N was trying to rob them. And for what? Because she told the girl to mind her business after being spoken over once again.

Foolish on her part, because now, she's in Captain Morgan's/Axe hand Morgan’s office when she ought to be waiting for Nami in the docks.

"Trying to rob someone, I heard?" Said Morgan, a large man with a steel jaw. "Didn't think a pretty girl like yourself would commit that petty crime."

Y/N purses her lips, "Because I didn't. Either way, I didn't think the Captain of this entire Marine base would oversee the case of a petty crime, which once again, I didn't commit."

"Only on special circumstances. Take a seat,Y/N," Axe's hand told her, and he motioned with his head to the chair in front of his desk.

Y/N didn't move her gaze from the man with the steel jaw, "I'm okay standing,"

Morgan laughs, "How stubborn of you but I respect it."

His eyes shone with something Y/N had seen many times before and didn't like at all. Desire. Shit, she should’ve known when she was allowed to keep her belongings.

“So, care to tell me why were you attempting to rob the fish shop?” The man asks.

Y/N jaw clutch as she held back an eye roll, “I wasn’t.”

“Then why Kaori accused you of it?” Morgan inquires, his eyebrows shooting up in expectation though, to Y/N it felt as if he was mocking.

“Because she’s insane and a spoiled brat,” snaps Y/N, narrowing her eyes at the older man.

“We’ll, she does has the tendency to exaggerate,” Morgan said as he slowly got up from his seat and made his way around it, “Buy still, it’s her word against yours, a girl that’s been in Shells town for around what? Six months? You see how I can’t simply ignore the statements of my lieutenant’s daughter. However…”

Y/N’s gaze didn’t falter as the man stood in front of her or flinched when his axe hand moved a piece of hair away from her face. It was all very familiar, unfortunately.

“It would be a shame to string you up in the yard… good thing for you I’m willing to come to an agreement that can benefit us… that is if you manage to convince me, pretty girl,”

Y/N glared up at him, her eyes hardening as she prepared to send him away but thankfully for her, before she could, there was a knock on the door.

“I’m busy.” Scowls Axe hand Morgan.

The door opened and a meek Marine girl peeked through. “I-I’m sorry, Captain Morgan but this situation needs your immediate attention.”

Morgan sighs tiredly, he nods at the girl waving his normal hand dismissively. “I’ll be there,”

The Marine girl nods and closes the door, leaving Axe hand to look down at Y/N, “I’ll be back in a minute so we continue where we left off, sweetheart, don’t worry.”

Y/N didn’t respond she simply watched him leave and of course, he locked it behind him.

“Shit,”Y/N sighs, still stiff feeling her heart pound in her chest.

She takes a deep breath, not knowing how much time she has until Morgan comes back, she quickly looks around the very… ugly, self-centred office. No wonder why Helmeppos is the way he is.

Y/Ntried opening the windows with all her might but the damned thing didn’t bulge. She tried the door, despite knowing it was futile. She tried and tried but there was no way out.

When she heard the sound of the keys unlocking the door, Y/N tensed as she reached for her War fans that were hidden into her waistband and waited. It wasn’t until she saw the familiar Orange hair and straw did she let herself calm.

“Nami?”

The girl's eyes widen as she enters the office, “Y/N?”

“Y/N?” Calls Luffy a smile gracing his face as he follows Nami inside the office. “Oh, hey! What are you doing here?”

“Yeah, what are you doing here?” Nami asks, locking the door behind her. “You know him?”

Y/N looks between them, and sighs. “Long story. What are you doing here. Is it part of your plan?”

“We’re here for the map,” Luffy exclaimed excitedly as he looks around the office mumbling “woah, this guy really likes himself.”

“No, I’m going to find the map.” Nami said as she moves near Y/N, where Captain Morgan desk is. “Let’s pretend he’s not here.”

“But I am here.” Luffy says.

“Wait, what map?” Y/N asks looking at Luffy and at Nami who was scooping through Morgan’s things.

“The map to the grand line,” Luffy said, a grin on his face.

Y/N blinks, ignoring the bickering of the two as the information processing. The grand line? They’re going to steal the map to the grand line… her hearts starts to pound again but for a different reason.

"Every idiot dreams of finding the One Piece." Nami's voice snapped her out to another piece of important information.

Looking at Luffy, Y/N asks, "You're planning to travel to the Grand Line?"

"Yeah!" Exclaims Luffy with his usual grin, "To find the one piece,"

"People like you believe in something and you don’t even know what it is." Nami huffs as she continues to scoop through Morgans's belongings.

"Well, yeah. Don’t you?" Luffy fiddles with the telescope, pointing at Nami, "So why did you decide to become a thief?

Nami spares him a glance, "I didn’t decide. I needed to eat. You do what you have to, to survive."

"Ain't that the truth," Y/N mumbles as she as well gazes over Axe-hand Morgan things.

"You’re right. Nothing more important than food." Luffy moves around, touching just about everything in his way before he turns to Y/N. "And why did you decide to become a singer?"

"I've always enjoyed singing," Y/N shrugs as she decides to help Nami and opens a drawer. "There was a time when I couldn't, so, I made it my mission to sing all I wish anywhere the sea takes me,"

"Is that your dream? To sing around the world?" Asks Luffy.

Y/N shrugs, opening another drawer, "For the most part, I suppose,"

"Can you all just shut up and find the map?" Nami scowls looking through the pages of a book.

"Where you reckon he has it-"

Y/N was cut off by the desk suddenly sliding out of place, displaying a large hidden safe. They all looked at each other before Nami dropped beside it and placed her head near the lock.

Suddenly, an alarm started to blast, echoing all around the base.

"Shit," Breaths out Y/N, she moves to the window again, trying to pull it open.

"Uh… Do you think they know we’re here?" Luffy asks as he lowers himself next to Nami.

"No, I think they’re after the other thief and idiot pirate trying to steal a map." Nami scowls sarcastically.

Luffy grins, "What are the odds of that?"

Both Y/N and Nami, stop their doing to stare at the boy in a straw hat.

Luffy looks between the girls before uttering with an innocent chuckle "Kidding."

"Nami, not to stress you or anything but can you work a little faster?"

As soon as those words left her there was a banging on the door making the three of them jump.

"Open up!" Morgan's voice rang through the door along with the bangs "By the authority of the 153rd Marines!"

"You need to hurry," Luffy stresses.

Nami grunts, her ear still near the lock, "I can’t rush this!"

Morgan was now using his axe hand to get inside the office.

Y/N moved next to Nami, "There's no time for that,"

"I have an idea," Luffy tells the girl forcing Nami to move as the straw-hat boy grabs into the safe and starts to pull.

"Are- are you trying to pull the safe out?" Y/N asks in disbelief, trying her best to ignore the growing hole Axe-hand Morgan was creating on the door.

"Yeah," Luffy grunts as he continues to pull and pull and much to her surprise his arms were starting to... stretch?

Y/N tilts her head in confusion and amazement. She and Nami shared a look when the safe actually seemed to bulge.

The door bangs again and Y/N doesn't waste a second, she grabs Luffy's waist, Nami following her after her. Before Y/N is aware of what is happening, she feels her stomach rise to her throat. They were falling out the freaking window.

"Fucking..." Y/N grunted when they reached the ground, she felt her side hurting from where she had landed but there was no time for that. She quickly dropped the annoying bags off her shoulders and stood up, shaking off the pain.

"How did you do that?" Asks Nami as she rips the Marine's shirt off.

However, before Luffy could answer, they were surrounded by Marines. Y/N quickly pulled out her two war fans and took a defensive stand next to Nami who was holding onto her staff.

She used her quick reflexes and agile movements to evade their attacks while landing swift blows with her fans. With a quick flick of her wrist, she knocks one Marine to the ground and uses the momentum to twist her body, dodging another. Her movements are as graceful as they are deadly, and she slips through the chaos of battle with remarkable ease.

Meanwhile, Luffy and Nami are in their own battles, each utilizing their unique skills to take down the Marines. Luffy, with his fists and legs, dodges and attacks at will, while Nami wields her staff with expert precision, taking in multiple Marines at once.

However, more and more Marines kept coming. It was starting to get overwhelming. Y/N suddenly felt a sharp pain in her back making her stumble, she turned to fight off the Marine but to her surprise, someone else had joined the fight and sliced the Marine off of her.

With a final fierce strike of her fans, Y/N takes down the remaining Marines and is quick to meet with Nami, Luffy and-- "Hey, aren't you the guy from the bar?"

"The drunk?" Nami added to the question.

"Glad I made an impression." The guy said, sparing the girls a glance.

They turned their attention to the man who had just entered the yard. Axe-hand Morgan.

"The imposter, the pirate hunter, the thief and the prisoner." Called the Captain as he approached them, looking between each of them. "Fancy that. The four of you working together."

"Yeah. We’re a crew!" Luffy declared to which the three others were quick to deny.

"Nope, not a crew."

"Nah-uh,"

"Not together."

"No enemy has ever escaped my wrath. I alone defeated the Black Cat Pirates." As he brags, Morgan begins to take off his Marine vest, displaying his scars from past battles, "I alone captured Kuro of the Thousand Plans. And I alone keep Shells Town safe from the scum of the East Blue."

He takes a fighting stan and so do the four others.

Y/N held into her sharp war fans, hoping some of the paralyzing poison she had covered the blades with hadn't all worn off.

Morgan's first strick was met with the guy with green hair swords but was thrown off, then Luffy tried to strike him but was unsuccessful. Y/N was going to slice his face off but a grunt from Nami stopped her, noting she was fighting the upcoming Marines off herself Y/N decided to help because even if all her impulses were yelling at her to cut Morgan's dick off she wasn't about to leave Nami to fend for herself.

Nami uses her staff to block the Marines' attacks, while Y/N uses her fans to deflect and dodge their strikes. The two work in unison, their teamwork making them a formidable force to be reckoned with.

Nami strikes out with her staff, taking down one Marine after another. Her strikes are powerful and precise. Y/N uses her fans to take down the others, she strikes with precision, her movements fluid and graceful and when all of the Marines are down, Y/N turns to Nami, both girls sharing a look of respect for one another.

"Gum Gum Whip!" Luffy's voice rang through the yards forcing them all to turn to watch as his leg stretched inhumanly before kicking Axe-hand Morgan, knocking him off.

"Whoo!" Luffy celebrates his victory.

Y/N shares yet another look with Nami as both girls put their weapons away.

"Gum Gum Whip?" Asks the green-haired boy.

Luffy nods excitedly as he approaches the other guy, "Yeah! All the great fighters call out their finishing moves."

"No, they don’t."

"Some do," Y/N breathes out, turning to him, "What's your name, Hot Shot?"

"I'm Roronoa Zoro, pirate hunter," The guy, Zoro, said as he put his three swords away.

"And the future greatest swordsman in the world," Luffy added with conviction.

"Well, I'm Y/N. Nice to meet ya,"

Nami interrupted, looking over at the safe, "Hate to break up this beautiful moment, but we need to get this safe out of here."

"Some rope might be useful." Y/N hums, looking about while taking back her disregarded things.

But then, as if it were nothing, Zoro grabbed the safe and hauled it up into his shoulders.

"Or we can do that." Y/N mumbles, gazing at Zoro, impressed. It was kind of hot.

Soon, the four of them were jumping into Nami's small boat. She gave Y/N instructions to pull up the anchor as she unfolded the sails

"Careful with that!" Nami scowls Zoro when the guy all but throws the safe down.

"Whatever you say." Zoro tells her as he continues to roughly move the safe into the small boat, "Oh, wait. I don’t work for you."

Nami glares at Zoro prompting Luffy to speak. "I’m sensing a little bit of tension amongst the crew."

"Not a crew!" They all rebottle.

Ignoring them, Luffy stands on the dock looking around, "I can’t leave without my friend."

"Koby?" Y/N asks as she finishes pulling the anchor up.

Luffy nods, "He should be around somewhere,"

"Can’t wait,” Zoro tells him, "The Marines will be here."

"The Marines are here already." The annoyingly familiar voice of Helmeppos made the four of them turn to him, he was holding two guns up, "You’re under arrest."

"What happened to you?" Y/N, unfazed by the guns, laughs.

Luffy nods, laughing with her. "Yeah, what’s wrong with his hair?"

"Yeah, I might’ve done that," Zoro informs them, proudly.

"Nice work, Hot Shot" Y/N chuckles approvingly.

Helmeppos fires a shot near Zoro forcing a shriek out of Y/N, however it seems that she was the only one to have a reaction to a gun being fired because not even that fazed the pirate hunter, Nami or Luffy.

"I won’t let you make a joke of me. I’m taking you in and handing you over to my father." Helmeppos said, an air of superiority oozing out of him. "I’ll be the hero. I might even get a medal or something--"

Helmeppo's rant was cut short by Koby, who had satisfyingly punched the blonde down.

"Koby?" Luffy exclaims, impressed by his friend's actions.

"God, that hurt!" Koby looks down at his fist but then he smiles, "It also felt really good too."

Luffy swiftly urges Koby near the boat, "No time to explain, but we gotta go. This whole island is trying to kill us."

"I’m not coming with you," Koby said causing Luffy to halt his steps.

"You sure?" Luffy asks.

"Before we met, every choice was made for me. But now I’m gonna do what I want to do." Koby said with determination making all the others stare at him, "I’m gonna be a Marine. I want to help people that can’t help themselves."

Y/N smiles at him. She can tell he has a kind heart which is more than what half the Marines will ever have. She can only hope that he protects it.

"Next time we meet, we might be enemies," Koby tells Luffy but the straw hat boy didn't seem bothered by that.

"But for now… we’re friends."

Luffy nudges Koby in a friendly manner before getting into the boat where Y/N, Nami and Zoro are working to unravel the remaining sail to begin their travel.

And the boat finally starts to sail, leaving the decks and island behind. Y/N looks back at Shells Town, what was her home for six months, half a year, is now a memory. Usually, leaving a town leaves her with a bittersweet feeling until she gets to the next one to do it all over again but now, knowing that the Map of the Grand Line is within reach, she has a new plan in mind.

Find her sister.

A/N: I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Lots of love, be safe.

Divider by @cafekitsune 3

[taeyamayang]

CALLING THEM BABYGIRL

ft. miya atsumu, bokuto koutarou, & iwaizumi hajime

ㅡyou tease them by calling them babygirl.

this is inspired by a conversation with an irl friend who finds it hilarious that i call hayakawa aki (chainsaw man) babygirl i mean, how can i not!! lol

tw: mentions/use of mommy, cursing, anddd nothing more ig. if there's anything let me know

(haikyuu!!, jujutsu kaisen, tokyo revengers)

˚⸙͎۪۫⋆ Miya Atsumu

atsumu is a bit unpredictable

one time he's up for a teasing (he initiates most of the time) but other times he's sensitive and overly dramatic

hence, curious of how he would react, out of the blue, you try it

he sits across from you with his back facing you

and his lower body tucked under a wooden table as he pretends to participate in the online meeting of MSBY

you scream-whisper,

"hey, babygirl!" to get his attention

he twists his neck to side, wondering if he has heard something

(or is the meeting too boring hence causing his brain to imagine things)

but when you repeat it, he finally turns around, brow arching as if asking you if it was indeed you calling him

he doesn't even question the pet name, please 😭

and when you repeat the term of endearment,

instant regret flashes before your eyes

this is why we don't play with fire, folks

a cheeky smile clads on his lips and behind his foxy eyes is mischief

he's definitely up to something

his volleyball-filled brain has thought of something that will bring you to instant K.O.

thus, he rolls his tongue over his bottom lip, supressing a growing smirk as he responds in a low seducing tone,

"yes, mommy?"

and just like that he renders your cheeks beat-red, floored, and caught of guard

he's enjoying it

he. fucking. enjoys this

he loves watching you internally scream and struggle to let out a single word

all to his doing

he leaves you wordless as he winks at you before shifting his attention back to the meeting as if nothing happened

˚⸙͎۪۫⋆ Bokuto Koutarou

bless his soul because this man has the most endearing reaction of all

in all honesty, if he isn't six foot something the bbygirl term endearment fits him so well

his pure heart, naivety, enthusiasm, and positive outlook in life is soㅡ

ugh, i want to keep him in my pocket!!

but, yeah, going back

when you called him a babygirl he shoots you a look beyond confised, head tilted to the side, and his lips protruding into a pout

he questions,

"i don't get it, (y/n). why are you calling me that?"

and when you tell him because he is your babygirl

he laughs at you like you're a standup comedian who had just dropped a punch line

and says, "you are the babygirl. i'll protect you from anything that could harm you and spoil you with everything i have. and i'll love you with the way you deserve."

he bends down to level his glimmering eyes with you

and adds affectionately, ruffling your hair gently and his smile reaches his eyes

"am i right, babygirl?"

i mean...

how could you noooottttt fsndgs%@&#^!!

˚⸙͎۪۫⋆ Iwaizumi Hajime

this one is a challenge

it's not like he dislikes pet names but the thing is

he doesn't want to admit that term of endearments make his stomach do backflips

so calling him a babygirl means trekking an unfamiliar path you don't want to be in

but still, you did

an absolute nuisance!!

he catches you on your first try, almost immediately because the next thing you know is that he's scowling at you

like you said a word he has never heard of that sounded nowhere near pleasant

"what?" he asks, eyes never leaving you

"i called you and said babygirl."

gulp

he's squinting his eyes on you now

but luckily he turns his head away and chooses to ignore his pesky other half

but that won't stop your teasing bc you're a lil shit

you repeatedly call him the nickname while lightly poking his sides,

"come on, babygirl. don't be shy and answer me with a polite 'yes'."

he counters with a strong flat, "no."

which, unfortunately for him, only gets you going

"go on look at me, babygirl. i know you missed me." your point fingers travels from his flexed bicep up to the crest of his cheek

a light tap was enough to bring his attention back to you however he keeps his mouth sealed

you run your thumb over his cheek and point out a lie in a whispering tone, "you're blushing. you like it when i call you babygirl, don't you?"

but a lie soon turned true as he feels his entire face heat up

iwaizumi hajime is embarrassed

damn you!!

as soon as you see the pink on his face, you burst out into a fit of laughter

only to be stopped when he says,

"we are over."

a joke, of course, bc your laugh is too contagious that he couldn't help but mask annoyance with a loving smile

you dramatically protest by lightly hitting his toned torso with your fist

"no! no! no! nooooo!!"

it is then iwa's turn to chuckle

he catches a flying fist with his hand before pulling you into an abrupt embrace

his chin rests on top of your head after giving you a peck on the side of your temple

"it's a joke but don't ever call me that again."

with the way he reacted, this definitely won't be the last of it

as usuallll rbs and likes are very much appreciated! thanks for reading, stay hydrated mwa! <3

masterlist | hq.list

[forgodsgoddamnsake]

Belly Dancer - 10

Warning: smut - spitting - rough sex - kink (good stuff) - domrry -language

I'll tell you all about Michael in next chapter so don't come after me.

Harry was on the phone with you as you were packing your suitcase. Jessica was helping you out because you let Angela go pack her own stuff.

"I booked two suites for Jessica and us, one bedroom for Angela." He said, and there was a sound of a zipper so you figured that he was closing his own suitcase.

"Okay, baby, I need you to fetch Angela first, I still have a lot of packing." You said, trying to make room in one of your suitcases.

"Because someone should have packed before and not start packing at the last minute." Jessica huffed, placing your makeup bag in the suitcase.

"H, I have to go now so I can kick her ass in private. Bye!" You said and he hung up. "Why are you a bitch?" You asked, facing her.

"You should've packed like two days ago, and yet here we are!" She huffed, placing some of your suits in one of the suitcases.

"I was with Harry and I completely forgot, Jess." You kept your eyes on the ground with a little shyness that she caught right away.

"Wait a minute! What the hell happened between you two?" She paused for a moment.

"Nothing we just, um, we had, ugh-" You muttered and her eyes widened and her mouth opened.

"Holy shit! You gave it to him?" She tried to maintain her enthusiasm and worry.

"Yes, Jess, he threw rose petals everywhere, lanterns, candles, and he painted this huge painting of me above his bed. It all felt so right, you know? He asked me if I still wanted to give it to him and I really wanted to." You never stopped packing your stuff for a second, but maybe your steps were getting more clumsy.

"So, are you sure about it? Do you feel happy?" She asked, hand on her waist, thinking.

"Very much, yeah. Do you think it's too soon?" You stopped at your track before zipping one of the suitcases close.

"It's not too soon to give up your virginity, that's for sure. There are no timetables, you know? But I think you should spend more time with him, get to know him better and then you should ask him where you're standing. You're staying in the same hotel room, but not calling yourselves boyfried or girlfriend, that's kinda odd?" She said, finishing up packing your second suitcase.

"You know what? I think you're right, but I'm so new to this here." You started taking off your clothes to put on new ones.

"If you want my advice, I think you should spend more time with him in Miami, get to know him better before taking things to the next step. But if you're speaking about sex, fuck it, y/n, fuck his brains out." Jessica said, zipping your second suitcase close.

You chuckled at her phrasing as you started putting on your clothes. You got into a pair of leggings and a baggy white sweatshirt. You got your sneakers on and pulled your hair up in a messy bun.

Jessica's words made sense to you, after all.

You both got down to find Harry and Angela in the car while Noah, Jessica's boyfriend was in his own car, waiting for her.

You raised your middle finger to Noah as Harry got out of the car to help you out with the suitcases. Noah saluted you with a middle finger as well, getting out of his own car to help Jessica out.

"Both of you stop it!" Jessica warned both of you just when you were raising both of your middle fingers at him.

"Tell her! She's the one being bitchy to me!" Noah said, pointing at you. Harry was already done with your suitcases.

Harry chuckled at you both and walked over to Noah to help him with Jessica's suitcase. When they were done Noah thanked Harry.

"Thank you, man. I'm Noah, Jessica's boyfriend." Noah shaked Harry's hand.

"Not at all. I'm Harry, y/n and I are dating." Harry smiled politely and shaked Noah's hand back. They pulled their hands away and Noah looked at you with a raised eyebrow.

"How in hell did you get yourself a british man with that attitude, y/n?" Noah smirked.

"My shitty attitude is only exclusive to you, Noah." You said and got into Harry's car.

Harry chuckled and looked at Noah as he closed his car trunk. "I think it'll take about 4 hours, so if we stay close on the way that'll be better. In case there is an emergency." Noah said and Harry nodded.

"Yeah, sure. Let's get going then." Harry said and went over to his car, got into his driver seat and started the engine.

You were fixing the little makeup you had on in the car mirror, Harry smiled at you and started driving the car.

"Angela, did you pack all your stuff?" You asked, looking over at her.

"Yes, y/n, sorry about the delay, I know I should've packed earlier and helped you with your own packing." She answered, looking kind of embarrassed.

"Don't ever be, honey, you never let me down. You just had an emergency, emergencies happen. But you need to promise me something."

"Sure?"

"You're part of our group, so don't crawl into a corner, I want you to have fun with us as long as we're not working."

"I don't wanna be an intruder." She said, shyly.

"Fuck's sake, Angela, you're my friend. The only intruder here is this shy attitude of yours." You said, patting on her knee to assure her. "If you ever need or want anything, I'm there for you." You lowered your voice as if Harry couldn't hear you.

He smiled at you, just like Angela smiled at you as well. You turned again and faced the road, connecting your phone to the car so you'd listen to some music on the road.

'Thrift Shop' by Macklemore was ringing in the car as you sang along and Harry followed along.

I'm gonna pop some tags

Only Got twenty dollars in my pocket

You turned your head over to get Angela to sing along with both of you, she smiled at you shyly and sang a little.

I'm in this big ass coat

From the thrift shop down the road

After a while of dancing and singing, Harry was laughing hard every time you were acting based on the song lyrics.

Everything you wished the guy of your dreams to notice about you, Harry had all of it without you noticing it.

He noticed the way you flick your hair, the way you move your hands to the rhythm of any song, the different smiles you had, the feelings behind your eyes, and the way you treat the people around you. You could be rude to someone and be the most polite at the same time.

You got lost in your sleep for a while, legs on Harry's lap and a pillow behind you, Harry's hand was massaging your calves and ankles from time to time. You felt Harry wake you up,

"Y/n, wake up, baby, we are at a stop if you want to go to the bathroom." He gently rubbed your legs to wake you up. "Angela, come on up, you too. Girls wake up!"

Huffing, you stretched and looked over at Angela who was yawning.

"We're only two hours away now." He said, still rubbing your ankles.

"I really need to take a leak." You pulled your legs from Harry's lap and opened the door and got out to stretch your legs.

Harry and Angela followed. You watched Jessica walk towards you, tired as fuck. "I wish I was a lesbian." She commented and just stopped.

"Wanna explain why?" You chuckled.

"Nothing, I just feel like it." She looked at you with no expression and that just got both of you burst into laughter.

You three girls went to the bathroom and Harry followed in the men's bathroom. He got out after he was finished and ordered a coffee and some snacks for you and Angela, Noah went over as Harry was waiting for your drinks.

"One cappuccino and one black, please." Noah told the cashier and when he was done he stood next to Harry waiting for their drinks. "Hope we become friends, if you're gonna be with y/n we have to like each other." Noah smiled and Harry smiled back.

"Do you guys hate each other or what?" Harry asked looking at his smartwatch for a second.

"Oh, no, not at all! It may seem so from the outside, but actually y/n and I are good friends. She likes annoying me and I like annoying her, it's our own way of friendship." Noah said, as Harry's drinks were complete.

Harry waited for Noah's drinks with him and they both held their drinks and sat at a table waiting for you.

"Have you known each other for a long time?" Harry asked, sipping from his drink.

"Jessica and I got together a year ago, she was already friends with y/n. They're inseparable, I think the only reason why Jessica won't move in with me is y/n. At first y/n was super polite and we just became friends, especially when she helped Jessica at the hospital." Noah said while Harry's attention was completely with him.

"What happened, y/n never told me?"

"Not surprised, they don't talk about it. Jessica was having issues with insurance, she had to have an operation but it cost a lot of money, we were trying to find a solution but once y/n knew, she just paid for it. Didn't even think twice and didn't want Jessica to pay her." Noah sipped from his drink. "I love Jessica, I can't even imagine seeing her sick again. That's why I appreciate y/n. It's nice to know that there's someone for Jessica besides me."

"I can't imagine how that situation was for you." Harry gave an empathetic smile.

"It's alright now, hope I get Jess to move in with me, but-" He was finishing his sentence when you three girls appeared and went to sit at the same table. "-that bitch called y/n won't let her move in with me." He finished, smirking at you.

"It's only been less than half an hour and you're already telling him about us moving in?" Jessica rolled her eyes, taking her cup in her hand.

"You son of a bitch! Break up with him, Jess." You stuck your tongue out at him.

"We're over, Noah." Jess said and gave you a high-five.

"See?" Noah said to Harry who chuckled.

Harry grabbed your drink and sipped it for you, "Don't drink it now." He told you, setting the drink aside. "Here, your drink Angela, got you a latte. Didn't know what to get you, sorry." He said to Angela who grabbed the drink with a shy smile and said a small thank you.

Chit-chat.

"So what's the plan when we get there?" Noah asked, finishing his drink.

"Two parties and three performances at one of the clubs in Miami. I can bring you all for free to the parties, but we don't have to be together all the time." You said, letting your hair free.

"Today's off right?" Jessica asked you, sipping from her drink.

"Yeah, we can sleep in and then meet at the beach. How about that?"

--

You were on the road again, Harry driving, he said you could drive them back home. Angela rode with Jess and Noah this time. His hand on your thigh as you were speaking on the phone with Sam preparing the plan of the week. When you finished with Sam, you looked at Harry, "I'm getting tired of all the work. I have to take some time off soon."

"You should, babe. You work too hard." He said, eyes on the road.

"I love working, but it feels too much sometimes. Plus, I bring Angela along with me everywhere, she needs some time off, too."

"Is everything okay with her? She seems off."

"That's Angela, she's so shy. She has her own issues, she should have packed my stuff, but she was having some problems with her son."

"Angela has a son?"

"Oh, yeah, she got him so young. He's ten years old or something."

"How old is she again?"

"26."

"Oh my fucking god, she's had him when she was sixteen! I hope she's doing okay, that must be a lot of responsibility."

"It is. I need to give her some time off so she can spend more time with him." You said, thinking of ways to help her.

"You know that you're the most considerate person I've ever known?" He said, eyes still on the road.

"I'm ordinary, H."

"Oh, hell no. That's far from true, you care about people so much. That's one of the things I like about you." He looked at you for a moment, grabbed your hand and kissed your palm softly.

"How are things going between you and your family?"

"All's well. Gemma is actually pregnant."

"Wow, that's so good to hear. How is your mother feeling about that?"

"She's over the moon, she was dying to have a grandchild. Still, she wants to see my own offspring." He chuckled to himself.

"That's how it goes, H. Once they have a grandchild, they want the next right away. How are you feeling about becoming an uncle?"

"Can't believe it actually. I really want to see what her child will look like."

"Do you like kids?" You asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I love them! How about you?"

"I love them as long as they're not mine." His face dropped a little at your statement.

"You don't want to have kids some day?"

Huffing, you answered, "I don't know, it's not easy as it sounds. I have to choose my partner right so my kids can have a good father figure in their lives. Then comes along my job, imagine a pregnant belly dancer, funny, isn't it? And last but not least, the responsibility. I need to make sure that I'll be capable of taking care of my child."

"Touché. I think if you find the right father figure for your kids, it'll be easier to make up your mind about it." He said, shrugging. You nodded at his words and dropped it.

--

You reached the hotel, all five of you checked in and decided to sleep in and then catch some time at the beach.

Harry's hand held yours as you were reaching your suite, he unlocked the door and you got in. The suite was huge, there was this big ass glass window that showed a beautiful view of the ocean. Your luggage was already there and you were ready to unpack, so you started unpacking.

"I've got you a gift." Harry said, a small smile on his face.

"What's the occasion?" You smiled widely, finishing up your unpacking.

"We're on our first trip together." He said, walking towards you. "Close your eyes."

You did as he asked and you felt Harry's fingers on your ankle.

"What's going on?" You asked, not wanting to break the rules and snap your eyes open.

"You can open your eyes now." He said. You opened your eyes and looked down around your ankle only to find a golden anklet with your initials and a few small diamonds.

"Holy shit!" Your mouth opened as you sat on the edge of the bed to get a better look at the anklet.

"Is this real or just an accessory?" You asked, brushing your finger on the anklet.

"It's real gold, and the diamonds are also real." He smiled, kissing your forehead. "You like anklets, must as well have a precious one."

"Harry, you didn't have to. It must have cost you a lot."

"I wanted to. It suits you, y/n."

"I like you, Gatsby." You smiled up at him as he smiled back.

"I like you, too, lioness." He whispered as he cupped your cheeks and leaned in to kiss you.

The kiss was passionate, even romantic at first, then things escalated into a deep, french, and a fight over a dominance kiss.

His hands were crawling on your body, feeling you through all the layers of clothes. You bit his bottom lip lightly, and let it go softly, looking into his eyes.

He grabbed your cheeks in between his hand and titled your head so you could look at the mirror next to the window in the corner of the bedroom.

"What do you see, y/n?" He whispered in your ear.

You doubted your voice at first but the words got out a little shaky from the situation.

"I see us in the mirror."

"I'll take you right in front of that mirror, how about that? Would you like that, babygirl?" He growled in your ear, his voice raspy.

"Yes, Harry." You answered looking back at him.

He hummed and sighed deeply before he let go of you completely, he straightened up, got your hand and walked you over to the mirror.

He let go of your hand, stood behind you, just inches away from his touch.

His hair, his jawline, the dominant look he gave you, and the way he put his hands in his pockets made your panties wet.

You loved it. You loved being submissive for him.

"Strip." He ordered.

"But, Harry, the window." Your voice looked through the mirror.

"We're on the 30 something floor. No one's going to see you. Though I like the idea of taking you in front of the whole world, I won't like other people seeing you naked." He assured you in his dominant voice. "Strip." He repeated.

You looked at him in the mirror and pulled your hair down, letting it fall on your shoulders and back. Slowly, you began taking off your sweatshirt, then slowly you took off your leggings, making sure you rub your ass against his crotch as you pulled your leggings off completely.

Then, you straightened up, looking at yourself in a white lingerie and a white thigh band. You knew that he couldn't get his hands off of you, so might as well become prepared.

He grabbed your neck from behind, pressing his body against yours, looking into your eyes and body.

"You had this on the whole time?" He asked in a raspy whisper.

"Yes." You looked at his eyes with a daring look.

"Who did you wear it for, babygirl?" He brushed his fingertips all over your body, stopped a little to play with your thigh band.

"Some guy I'm seeing." You winked. Two can play this game. If you were going to be submissive, you should be doing it your way.

"Oh, really? What a lucky guy! What's his name?" His other arm held you by the belly to press you against him even more. You could feel his bulge pressing against your ass directly.

"Don't remember."

"Is that so? Didn't he do a good job sticking in your head?" His nostrils flared.

"Not so much." You shrugged.

"You are slutty, aren't you?" He looked at your eyes with lust mixing with dominance. "On your knees. Now."

He let go of your neck and took off his shirt. You turned around and got on your knees, legs apart. You looked up at him with innocent puppy eyes. He growled and ran his fingers on your lips, "You have angel looks with a slutty mouth."

You opened your mouth so his fingers could enter. You sucked on his fingers, not letting go of his eyes.

He growled and pulled his fingers away, hands on his waist. "Take it out."

You nodded and unbuckled his pants, unzipped his pants and helped him out of it and then he was left in his boxers.

"No teasing." He warned and you smirked at him.

You took his boxers off, and took his shaft in your small hand. You played with the head a little with your tongue, drawing circles all over it, sucking at it lightly. His breaths grew louder as you took his cock into your mouth, taking him in and out of your mouth a couple of times. You took it out of your mouth and spit on it. Harry's eyes looked at the mirror to see your sight, on your knees, your ass on display, sucking on his cock. The sight made him twitch a little.

You jerked him a couple of times, taking him in your mouth to the maximum you could, then taking him out completely with your saliva smudging your face along with his cock.

"Holy fuck, babygirl! You're getting so good at this, so good for my cock." He moaned loudly grabbing onto your hair, guiding you on his cock.

You felt a little bold so you motioned to him to fuck your mouth just when you were playing with his balls.

"What? Want me to fuck your mouth?" He asked and you nodded. "Words, babygirl. I need to hear them from your slutty mouth." He breathed, collecting your hair in his hand.

You took him out of your mouth, saliva connecting your lips to the tip of his cock.

"Fuck my mouth, Harry. I want you to fuck my mouth, please." You mumbled, giving small kisses to his veins.

He hissed and guided his cock into your mouth again, you opened your mouth and protected your teeth with your lips. And he started fucking your mouth and damn! His moans turned into growls.

You kept playing with his balls as he was thrusting in and out of your mouth, you gagged but could handle it. He kept his cock all the way down your throat for a couple of seconds, your nose brushing against his pubic area, gagging.

"Oh my fucking god! That's so good, babygirl, you're so good for me." He growled before pulling you away from his cock.

Your face was messy, hair was messy, panties messy, but he fucking loved it. He loved it messy. He helped you stand on your feet, turning you around, holding your hair in one hand.

"You see this face? This is your face after sucking my cock, don't ever fucking forget that!" He growled in your ear, pulling your breasts out of the bra, squeezing them and twisting your nipples gently to get them to stand tall.

He grabbed your panties down so they were middle thigh, he got on his knees.

"Look in the fucking mirror, watch your slutty mouth moan my name."

And with that he began devouring your pussy. His lips sucking on your pussy lips, he opened your pussy a little to lick on your little clit. You supported yourself with a hand on the glass window.

"Shit, yes, Harry!" You moaned.

He nibbled on your clit, drew circles with his tongue all around it.

"Yes, like that, please!"

His tongue dove in your hole while his thump played with your clit, rubbing it.

Your legs were shaking and you could barely maintain your posture.

"I'm gonna cum, Harry, don't stop!" You screamed but only to be surprised he pulled away.

You started whining but he stopped your whining as he stood tall and grabbed your cheeks with one hand, his lips next to your ear, eyes looking at you in the mirror.

"If you wanna cum, you fucking say my name! You tell me who's making you feel this good." He said in his dominant voice, his fingers playing with your clit from behind.

"Yes, Harry. You're the one, please, baby let me cum." You begged, eyes blurry from the tears of pleasure.

"Look who's begging now." He smirked, two fingers entering you.

"Goddamnit, yes!" His fingers were curled in you, pressing on your G-spot every time he thrust them in.

Your ass was shaking with his movement, he had to look at it to get a good view.

"I want you to cum on my fingers, hear me? I want your tight pussy to cum all around my fingers."

"Don't stop, don't stop, don't stop. I'm cumming!" You screamed and felt like you burst or something.

His fingers were pulled out and he rubbed your whole pussy roughly as you were cumming. Your whole body shook violently, you almost fell, but Harry caught you with his arm around your belly. Your head was titled down and you saw this puddle on the floor.

Still hazy, you asked while panting, "What's this?"

"You've just gained two titles, a screamer and a squirter." He smirked as he kissed your neck, rubbing the tip of his cock between your folds.

His cock entered you in full force, "You're so tight, babygirl." He smirked looking at you in the mirror, grabbing your face to kiss you passionately.

His thrusts were rough as if he was trying to make a point. His hands were holding you by the waist. He would take out his cock and then thrust back into you.

"Yes, Harry, yes, just like that." You screamed, feeling nothing but your pleasure.

He grabbed your neck, "Look at yourself, open your fucking eyes!" Panting, you opened your eyes to look in the mirror. "Who's fucking you? Who's making you feel good?" He asked, his thrusts not stopping for a second.

"You, Harry, you're the only one fucking me and making me feel good." You replied with an innocent, yet slutty voice. Tears of pleasure rolling down on your cheeks, the mascara also rolling down. His athletic body fucking yours.

"You're goddamn right." He said, pulling you against him so your back completely is pressed against his chest. One arm holding you by the thigh band, the other spanked you hard. "You shall remember this, babygirl." He growled and spanked you again.

"Yes, please, Harry. Let me cum." You screamed feeling your body shaking against his.

"Cum, babygirl, you've learned your lesson, cum all over my cock." He mumbled in your ear and that was enough for you to scream his name as you came from your high around his cock. He tightened his grip around you as he was about to cum as well when he felt you clench around him.

"I'm going to cum, baby, where do you want it? Tell me."

"In my mouth, baby. Fuck my mouth again." You moaned.

"On your knees." He ordered, pulling out of you, stroking himself.

You got on your knees, didn't waste a second and put him in your mouth and he started fucking your mouth in full force. You moaned around his cock and that was enough for him to cum in your mouth.

His voice. God, his voice came from heaven.

You opened your mouth to show him his cum. Panting, he bit his bottom lip, brushing his fingers on your lips.

"God, wish I could spit-"

Without letting him continue, you nodded and he smirked at you.

"I've got myself a kinky slut of a woman." He bit his lip again before he spit in your mouth. "Swallow."

You swallowed and opened your mouth again to show him.

If it was another guy, maybe you'd be disgusted, but you never was disgusted by Harry. Everything with him felt good. Maybe sex was something that made you feel like you were his.

[jamneuromain]

Jam, in honor to the song I was just listening I propose a battle for our reader.

😠 + 😉 with Andy VS Steve. Steve was your first love, Andy is your current amazing love. Fight fight fight (not physical obviously lol🥊!

hmmm.... It's such a tough call! But since Andy is your current amazing love, I rule for-

Ugh I hate ex-bf being all gloating and smug when you meet again

Not Him

Previous Steve Rogers x You; Andy Barber x You

Warning: Ex-Steve, Reader is in her late 20s, Andy a few years older than reader (but not mentioned specifically). None?

Summary: You met someone unexpected, your ex, Steve, on your way to your class. What's the worst that could happen? Answer: Andy happened.

A/N: Hiya! Sorry it took so long to get it out :( I've been clearing my draftbox as best as I can.

Someone called out your name behind your back, and you instinctively snapped your head in that direction.

Blonde, built, and that smile-

"Oh, Steve. Hi." You instantly recognized the man from your past.

You met Steve when you attended high school. While he was the famous football quarterback for the school team, you were practically nobody, and if it weren't for a class you shared, you wouldn't even know each other in your separate lives.

One thing led to another, and you became high school sweethearts, before breaking up a few months later.

"Hey." He jogged up to you. That sunshine-dazzling smile nearly splitting his face in two, "It's been... what, ten years? Wow..." He exclaims, carefully observing you from head to toe.

"Yeah, I mean, I haven't seen you since ... the prom?" You casually switched the pile in your hand to the other, smoothing your T-shirt.

Oh yes, the high school prom where you had two dances before he spent the whole night with the pretty British girl with a posh accent. What's her name? Petra? Penny? Next day, your phone was blasted with Instagram notifications telling you from all aspects and angles how they kissed as Prom King and Queen. Not that you didn't know it already, when you were there, under the stage.

"You-uh heading somewhere?" He pointed at your stack of papers, teasing ever so slightly, "I've seen you still not giving up on studying, huh?"

"Well, I-"

"I'm working as a coach now," He interrupted before you could finish your sentence, flashing his team jacket before your eyes, even tapping on the chest where the team name is visible to any man within eight feet if they weren't complete blind.

"Wow." You nodded, playing along, "Uni team, impressive."

Too bad you were never a decent sports fan that could share Steve's enthusiasm as to which legendary figure saved the day with a ball in their hands - nor did you find being a coach "impressive" ... or intrigued, for that matter, because being in front of glamouring Steve fucking Rogers made you shrink back to your high school self-image again: a small, inconspicuous, socially unidentifiable shadow of a being that you could barely recognize. And yet, the contrast between Steve and you reminded you every single time, that you do not belong to a world of his, a world where books and glasses are symbols of "nerds" or "geeks" and are perfectly fine to make fun of, a world where if you don't like sports - or not being a potential athlete, you should be eliminated in every social context.

"Yup." He popped the "p" with his full lips, "If you want the tickets next season-" Steve pointed towards himself with both thumbs, the lop-sided smile made him look smug as ever, "This guy is your go-to-guy."

More like your never-go-to guy. You scoffed, adjusting your expression to a small smile as soon as he turned his focus on you, "Sorry, I think I need to head to my next class."

"C'mon-" Steve dragged his tone almost annoyingly, "Skip it. Don't you have some time for me, for old time's sake?"

You could have ten more minutes for him before the next class. But you didn't want to. Which was the point.

"Hey, honey." Came a voice behind your back, startling you just a little. An arm draped around your shoulders, squishing you into a familiar embrace, "I've been calling."

You let out a sigh of relief. More so when the owner of this familiar voice took the stack of papers from your arms into his own, and rubbed your sore arm for having to hold the pile for quite a while.

"Sorry." You apologized to your beloved boyfriend Andy, "I must've silenced my phone during the class."

" 's okay." Andy pressed a kiss to your temple, whispering, "Wanted to ask you about lunch anyway. Nothing important." Andy slowly moved his eyes away from yours, and acted as if he had just seen Steve, a 6-foot man who appeared out of nowhere, "Who do we have here? Honey, would you mind introducing?"

"Sure. This is my ex, Steve, from high school. Steve, this is Andy, my boyfriend."

The moment the word "ex" escaped from your lips, you became aware instantly that your boyfriend had entered his suit mode, every available muscle tensing up in his body, and like a good huntsman, ready to strike when he sees the glimpse of a failure of his opponent. Where you hoped that "high school" from your introduction would calm his nerves, it certainly achieved the opposite when you heard your boyfriend say: "Oh..." in a thoughtful way, "the quarterback-captain, am I right?" as he extended his hand to shake Steve's.

Yup. It definitely made Andy slightly on edge.

"I'm part of the coaching team on campus, actually." Steve flashed his identity proudly before Andy, shaking Andy's hand in an equally firm grip, "Go Falcons."

"Oh..." said Andy again, more thoughtfully, "I'm a professor here in the Law School - You wouldn't happen to be the coach assistant of Karl?"

This just turned more competitive than you would think. Yet, it did bring a tinge of amusement when Andy confirmed your suspicion that Steve was too young to be made a coach, while the position of coach assistant was for brainless jocks who did all the dirty work coaches didn't want to, the heavy-lifting and paperworks, for instance.

"Well," Steve sneered, "I thought dating a student was improper conduct, Professor."

"Excuse me?" Andy raised his brows. So did you.

"You heard me." Steve nodded towards you, "Her, a student, obviously. It would be a great unfortunate if the dean might hear about such a rumour somewhere, wouldn't it?"

He said almost challengingly.

Wow. Typical Steve as ever. The girl he dated after prom, the British girl, was rumoured to have had a bad break-up previously. According to gossip that ran in the school bathroom, the British girl was told that her ex was cheating - which turned out to be a false alarm, but they broke up anyway.

Now you guessed you knew who was the little birdie that shared the false information with that poor girl.

Andy snorted out laughter. The corner of his lips could barely contain themselves as he struggled to keep a straight face, "Marvelous." Andy clapped - more like tapping his palm with the other hand, before asking for your permission, "Should you do this or should I?"

You scoffed. Really scoffed in front of the glorious quarterback that you liked a decade ago, "For your information, Steve, I'm working as a lecturer at this university. So, go start your devious little plan elsewhere. If you don't mind, I have a class to teach - C'mon, Andy."

You dragged Andy by his arm and led him out of the battlefield.

"Nice." Andy commented, not bothering to look back at his opponent, with a pleasing grin that was probably going to mold on his face for all eternity. "Did you see the look on that guy's face? Spectacular. So proud of you, Honey."

"Yeah, not my best moment having to face a dickhead-ex." You huffed out, "Jesus, why didn't I know he was that big of a jerk when I started dating him?"

"I know," Andy said, sympathetically, "Don't worry though, I noticed that your choice of man has had a significant change for the better."

You shot him a dirty glare, which Andy took, feigning he just got hit on the chest.

"Sorry, no joking, got it." Andy made a pained face which caused you to involuntarily grin. Quickly abandoning the idea of the ex in his mind, Andy finally returned to the topic for which he came to find you, "What's for lunch again? Cafeteria?"

Find Jammy's 500 Follower's Celebration here 👈

Questions? Comments? Requests? 👉Send them to my inbox 👂

[mayakern]

Just jumping in here to add that support - it’s so difficult to find a well-fitting, comfortable skirt when you are fat and that difficulty goes up significantly when you want it to be ADORABLE too.

Ugh and shopping online is JUST as frustrating sometimes because not every size chart is made equal and not every size chart is made accurate. Shops will be like “we are plus-size 😏” and only go up to a 1x (😒) Sometimes I get stuff in the mail that SHOULD have fit but it doesn’t! And that’s so absolutely demoralizing when I already can’t shop at the average fucking store because of my size.

And then prices!!! I can afford it! $60 isn’t chump change for a lot of people - but it is so much more accessible then a lot of shit out there and I feel so fucking grateful that I can purchase what you lay out.

Especially because I love pastel fashion! And you actually have shit I can wear!!!! And it’s not just a basic skirt - (here hello it’s our 18th skirt in the same shade of mauve or plum 😬 just for you larger sized ppl lol) they’re GORGEOUS. They’re varied!!!! They’re different!!!!!!

I have eyed your skirts for such a long time and I finally just bought the beautiful ocean one and I feel SOOOO happy that I can wear something that cute and I feel CONFIDENT it’s going to fit even before it’s here and that I can afford it.

I get where people are coming from with natural fabrics I guess but I feel so protective of you every time that comes up as a consistent complaint because ugh you can’t solve every problem! You’re a small business that’s already doing what you can!

Every time I see this stuff roll across my dash, I’m like “shhh…. shhhh let me buy the pretty and affordable and inclusive skirts in peace, we understand, it’s not gonna happen right now, Maya’s already talked about this….omg look at the pretty waves take my money now.”

Sorry for all my swearing I just!!! You’re doing a good job!!! I swear all of it was just vehement enthusiasm for your good job. 💖💖💖 Thank you for what you do.

aw thank you this is incredibly sweet 🥺🥺

honestly i deal with this in my own life. i’ve been trying to find a cute and comfortable yellow crop top for a summer time version of my wario costume (which i usually wear a turtleneck for) and the shein/romwe/alieexpress listings have infected EVERYTHING making it so hard to search for anything bc all the listings will have a 3X option but then you’ll realize the 3X is, at most, a size 18 👹👹👹

obviously letter sizes mean NOTHING and we try not to use them too much in the store as your precise measurements will always give a MUCH better fit, but still that’s goddamn ridiculous

ANYWAY thank you for the kind words and i hope you love your skirt. also, as a general note, on the off chance one of our garments doesn’t fit you, especially if it is too small, we are always happy to do exchanges (if we have the appropriate size on hand) or returns. i would always rather people have a garment that fits and is comfortable or nothing, vs something they can’t wear.

[therealtruealiyah]

NOVA - the enlivening

Raine stirred slightly, engulfed in her Egyptian cottoned white blanket on her extra wide bed. She reached to the other side of her bed only to find it empty and cold like before. Raine blinked sleep out of her eyes as she realized her predicament. She was all alone — and what's worse... Nova was gone.

Raine sat upright in her bed and threw her face into her hands.

"God, I'm so stupid!" She exclaimed to herself. After a few minutes of attempting to compose herself, Raine got out of bed and began making it.

Back to business as usual. She thought, fluffing the final pillow in her set. Just then, a note on her nightstand caught her eye. With wide, hopeful eyes, she lunged for it and began reading.

Raine sat on the edge of her bed holding the note to her chest. There were a lot of emotions rushing through her at once. Some were strong and definite and the others, she couldn't quite gauge. One thing was for sure, though... Nova had completely changed Raine's life. She knew that she’d never be able to carry on without her and she was perfectly ok with that.

________________________________________________

Raine had it bad. Every time she heard the front door's bell, she rushed into view of it to see if it were Nova. But it never was and that royally fucked her up.

"Welcome to The Ridge." She would greet the strangers in monotone with zero percent of enthusiasm. This was unlike Raine. Before yesterday, she was the most energetic, upbeat person that Mr. And Mrs. Ridgemore has ever placed upon their payroll. They were damn proud of it, too, as they named her employee of the month for eight months in a row.

"What's going on with you today, Rai?" Raine's co-worker and good friend, Chantel Moore nudged her gently in the side, halfway snapping Raine out of her funk.

"I just... got a lot on my mind." Raine mumbled, busying herself by refolding the same display of polo shirts for the third time today.

"I see that. You've been folding these shirts for half an hour now." Chantel joked. "Tell me what's going on."

"Okay, but you have to promise not to judge me." Raine turned to her friend with pleading eyes.

"I promise I won't judge you. I'm here to support you." She placed her right hand over her heart and lifted her left hand up to the gods as a symbol of trust and truth.

"So, last night, while I'm cleaning and getting ready to head out, I hear someone enter the shop and immediately I'm like shit, I didn't lock the door. I walk up and, I shit you not, the most..." Raine sighed with heavy adoration, "gorgeous being I have ever seen is standing within 15 feet of me."

"So, naturally, you froze." Chantel chimed in.

"I froze, Chantel. She was so tall and beautiful and intimidating!"

"And that turned you on."

"Ugh! You cannot begin to comprehend how turned on I was! And I felt so wrong about it because I didn't know this woman and I was already feeling all of these— things."

"Naughty things?" Chantel cocked a playful eyebrow and leaned closer, invested.

"We went to Luigi's and had an absolute blast! But then, we went back to my place..." Raine trailed off, looking at Chantel expectantly. Immediately, Chantel's jaw dropped, her mouth forming into a smile.

"You didn't!" She hit Raine gently on the arm.

"It was the most amazing night ever. Nothing I have ever experienced can compare to the way she made me feel."

"Ohhh! So that's why you've been pouting at the door every time it opened! You've got the fever!" Chantel teased.

"Oh, come on, I do not have the fever." Raine lied. She knew she had it and she had it bad. She needed more of Nova.

More of her touch.

More of her kiss.

More of her everything.

Raine was obsessed with the sublime magical beast she had only met less than twenty-four hours ago. She craved more.

_________________________________________________

Later that night, when Chantel and her other coworkers went home and the store was now closed, there Raine remained with the front door unlocked hoping that she'd walk through it once again.

It was now fifteen minutes past 9, an hour fifteen past closing, and Raine was just about ready to call it quits. With a heavy, disappointed sigh, Raine cut off the lights and made for the exit. Then is when it happened... the door swung open. Raine's heart picked up speed, for the door seemed have been swinging in slow motion. The world around her warped to a blurring halt as the person opening the door came into view.

"Hello, my love." Nova grinned. "Have you missed me?"

There she was. Her hopes, her anticipation, her super Nova— In the flesh.

[threadsun]

Sleepy Asks: "ayo sleepy here back from a beach vacation! Now I have a totally unrelated prompt for you!

For your blorbos: .... What if we kissed 🥺👉👈"

Zander - "Sure thing, love! Where d'ya want me to plant one on you?"

He's very affectionate, so he's always down for a kiss! It's rare for him to initiate, but he'll eagerly reciprocate and probably slip you some tongue while he's at it...

Lee - "I'm down to find out if you are~"

His kissing style is pretty desperate. Lots of groping and generally being all over you. He's not got much experience, but he makes up for it with enthusiasm!

Mav - "Yeah, I think we could do that."

They're not used to kissing, but they're pretty good at it. It's rare that he gets involved with anyone, but he's immortal so "rare" still means quite a lot of people.

Charles - "Us? K-kissing? I... I don't know..."

He sucks at kissing. Straight up just awful at it. He's always trying not to let his fangs in the way, and he's too proper to actually do anything fun or interesting unless provoked.

Lin - "Kissing? How wonderful! Come here, pet~"

He's an eager, sloppy, handsy kisser. Honestly, he'll leave you too dizzy and breathless and confused to know whether or not he's actually a good kisser.

Etienne - "How sweet. Sit in my lap and I'll show you what happens~"

He is, objectively, an amazing kisser. Seriously, he'll blow your fucking mind if you let him. It'll never stop at just kissing though, not with him.

Lucky - "A snog? Alright."

He's not bad, but he's definitely rough with it. His lips will press hard against yours, and they're chapped and warm. It's nice, but not soft or sweet.

Ash - "Then we'd be kissing?"

It's not super good at reading social cues, but it's good at the actual kissing part. Just the right amount of nipping and sucking and slipping you tongue.

Glitch - "'What if we kissed?' Ugh."

It takes a lot of work to get him to kiss you, but when he does... Look, Glitch was literally made to pleasure people. He's a good kisser, even/especially with the rough tongue~

Callum - "Sounds like a fun time~"

His kisses are sloppy and messy and overeager, like a dog. He'll be all over you, lots of tongue and drool and wandering hands. It's gross, but... pretty hot, if you're into that!

Fergal - "Worth a try, no?"

His kisses are soft, warm, sweet. At least at first. He lets you take the lead somewhat, but once he's sure you're into it, he'll let it get steamier and more intense.

Yofi - "How delightful. I'm sure I can indulge you~"

Kissing her is like... well, kissing an angel. Warm, gentle, just the barest brush of lips against yours that leaves you wanting more, even as they build up to fully making out.

Yana - "Yeah, not gonna happen."

She finds kissing gross. She doesn't want your mouth anywhere near her unless it's so she can knock your teeth out. And her mouth will only get near you to bite.

Azza - "One of my favourite things to do~"

He loves making out with people, he could spend hours kissing you breathless and hours more lavishing kisses across your body. You'll have 100% of his attention the whole time.

Aisling - "Sounds gross, I'm in!"

She doesn't really know how kissing works. He's done it before, but no one's been brave enough to tell him he uses too much teeth and tongue. They're just here for fun!

Gin - "When and where?"

She's always up for kissing! I hope you don't mind sharp teeth, because she loves the taste of blood~ She'll make sure to soothe your lips with her tongue after biting them.

Missy - "I so wish I could..."

No skin on skin contact means no kissing, unfortunately for her. If y'all somehow found a way to make it work though, you'd need to take the lead. She has no idea what she's doing.

Izzy - "You want a snog? I'm game."

She's a good kisser! A bit exciteable, but she'll match whatever energy you're bringing really. She might get a bit giggly though, especially if she really likes you!

[mariaofdoranelle]

Golden Tattoo

Rowaelin Month 2022 — Day 1: Songfic (Dress by Taylor Swift)

I’m posting this exactly at midnight (in my time zone) because it’s TS inspired and she only gave us one word to prepare for the new album lol.

Anyway happy Rowaelin Month! (Is saying this a thing? Is it a holiday? TOG fandom holiday??)

Warnings: language, NSFW (very)

Word Count: 3,8K

⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹ .・。

“Fuck, Aelin, I can’t take this anymore.”

“Come on, Buzzard, just a little more.”

“We should take it easy.”

“But I want my arm to look just like yours.”

They were currently alone in their apartment, chewing an insane amount of bubblegum so Aelin could use their tattoo stickers. She was temporarily tattooed from the shoulder to mid-forearm, they had already gone through the worst part.

Rowan sighed and picked another bubblegum, but they both froze when Aelin’s phone pinged a very familiar sound.

He cleared his throat. “So... You’re still in the app?”

Aelin immediately blushed. It was completely normal to talk about your Tinder activities with the friend you have a crush on. No need to act weird.

“Hardly.” She read the lockscreen. “Ugh. It’s just Ilias. Can you believe he ghosted me for a week after I told him I don’t like fish?”

“Wow,” he said with raised eyebrows. “That’s one way to waste an opportunity.”

An opportunity, as long as he wasn’t the one taking it, right? Aelin didn’t even want to date right now, but she had to get over Rowan, and sharing an apartment with him wasn’t helping. Still, Aelin wouldn’t blame him for having unrequited feelings, she just needed to find someone else and get her friendship back on track.

“Well, Buzzard, at least I’m giving people an opportunity to waste.” She raised her eyebrows at him.

Rowan sighed. “I know what I want, I won’t find it on the app.”

Aelin unwrapped three bubblegums and resumed her chewing. Aelin wanted the best for her friend, but if he didn’t want to look for someone now, she wouldn’t insist on it. He just grumbled something about this being a terrible Saturday activity and went back to their work.

Rowan extended his hand at Aelin and she frowned, confused. Then he sighed and pulled her wrist to him, making her skin burn where he touched. He placed the temporary tattoo on her, and Aelin’s heart was going a mile a minute the whole sixty seconds he pressed the damp cloth against her wrist. Aelin was ready to mourn the loss of his touch, but they were both frozen in place.

A golden tattoo.

“We won!” She threw herself at him without further notice, which made him give on of his rare belly laughs.

He immediately started reading the tiny text on the bubblegum package. “Here it says that whoever gets a shiny tattoo must collect the prize at a official store.”

Aelin got up in a heartbeat. “Let’s go, then!”

“Now?”

“How long do you think the tattoo will last?” She arched an eyebrow.

Rowan just snorted and grabbed his keys. He knew better than to come between Aelin Galathynius and her bubblegum prize.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“We’re here to collect the prize.” Aelin showed Grave, the bubblegum store’s employee, her tattoo with a wide grin on her face. Rowan was trying to hide his enthusiasm, but his lips would tug every time her voice got too bubbly or she got impatient to get there.

Grave barely looked at her golden tattoo before saying, “Fill out these forms, I’ll be right back.” Rowan mentioned to get the papers because he always did the bureaucratic part of things, but Aelin was too excited to just sit and watch. Indeed, the only thing that made her look up from the papers was Rowan’s chuckle.

When she looked up, Grave had brought a very tiny bicycle and a box. “The golden tattoo gives you all prizes, which are copper, silver and golden. Which means you get dinner at Luca’s, a bike and a Nintendo Switch.” Aelin would think about how dull he was for someone who gives prizes for a living if she didn’t have more important matters at hand.

“But these are meant for kids.”

“Not all of them.” Rowan frowned at her while sliding the video game closer.

Grave sighed. “Ma’am, you bought the kids pack of gum.”

Aelin looked at her tattooed arm. Just like Rowan’s, but there was no denying those tattoos were meant for kids. Her shoulders slumped, and Rowan was immediately on her side, one hand rubbing soothing circles on her shoulder and the other protectively holding his new video game.

“Maybe Elide can fit in this bike. Or one of your cousin’s kids,” Aelin muttered, “And we can go to dinner at Luca’s, right? There will be a lot of screaming children, but it can’t be that much different from a Whitethorn barbecue.”

Rowan chuckled. “Too scared of having dinner in a spaceship, Ace?”

Aelin anchored a hand on her hip and gave him a teasing grin. “I hope you’re as excited to go there as you sound. You should see the ice cream tower I’ll make you eat.”

There was no way of knowing if Rowan’s expression was amused or terrified, but he turned to Grave and questioned, “Isn’t Luca’s and Emrys’s from the same chain? I was wondering if we—“

“Yeah, yeah, I’m going to ask my manager. Stay here,” the man grunted.

Aelin needed a few seconds to process the information. She gawked at Rowan, in complete disbelief of what he had done. While Luca’s was the kind of restaurant you left with a major headache because of the screaming kids, Emrys’s dangers were much greater. Like bankruptcy. Aelin had never gone there, but she had reliable sources that their chocolate cake was dreamy.

Rowan was looking down, fidgeting with his game’s box when Grave came back once again.

“It’s an odd request, so I’ll have to call Emrys’s and let them know you’re coming. Can I make the reservation for tonight?”

After everything was settled for hers and Rowan’s non-date, they went home and Aelin started getting ready immediately. She was so happy she even pretended not to notice how Rowan played on the new video game for most of the time she was getting ready—while Aelin bathed, shaved, moisturized, curled her hair and fixed her nails—and then got fully ready while she did her eyebrows and makeup. No, this wouldn’t be the day to complain about society’s gender inequality and double standards. By the time Aelin was finally ready and had a picture posted on Instagram, Rowan was back on the living room couch. She had yet to decide if her heart was beating faster because he looked incredibly hot in his formal attire, or for how cozy and domestic he looked waiting for her dressed up in their couch.

“Buzzard, is this Animal Crossing?” she teased.

“Shut up, it’s relaxing.” While turning off the TV, he asked, “Are you ready?” and finally looked up. His body was frozen on the couch.

Aelin swallowed down her nerves. She loved to dress up just to feel good about herself, but her feelings for Rowan made it impossible not to think about him too. She got used of thinking about him in dressing rooms, at the hairdresser, in her bathtub. Aelin was absorbed on thoughts about Rowan when she picked this silk golden dress, so it was fair that she wore it for the first time with him.

She wondered what the flush he wore on his face now meant. Did she go too far and make him embarrassed? Can he see how starved she is for a different kind of attention from him? Does her dress makes him want to take it off?

Rowan got up and walked towards her with steps as careful as his eyes were intense. He tilted his head while brushing back her hair. “Fireheart.” Rowan slipped one finger behind her spaghetti strap and slid it down a little, making her shiver. His eyes followed the movement, but snapped back to her face after reaching the neckline. The dress wasn’t too daring, but it was definitely something. If she wasn’t as red as Rowan already, it definitely changed when he looked deep into her eyes and croaked, “You look breathtaking.”

She would think about how three words could undo her so badly the next time she could think straight. Aelin carefully placed a shaky hand on Rowan’s chest, and his heartbeat was as fast-paced as hers. He licked his lips, and she mirrored the movement. “You smell amazing too,” he said as his face came closer to her neck, which she arched for him. Rowan took a closer whiff of her perfume, and when his mouth was the closest from her neck it ever has been—

Her phone rang.

The loudest, most heartbreaking part of All Too Well by Taylor Swift started playing, and Rowan pulled back. When Aelin saw the name on her screen, she didn’t know if she wanted to laugh or scream.

“Hi, Rory. How’re things?”

The phone was on speaker. Aelin didn’t think Rowan could get any more flushed, but he did when he realized the person who interrupted their moment was his own mother. She could see his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed, and Aelin’s stomach dropped because there was a chance he was starting to regret it.

Oh, hi, dear. I’m good, how about you? Are you at the party yet? I hope I’m not interrupting. I just saw your Instagram post, you look lovely in gold!

Aelin wanted to scream in frustration, but she liked Rory too much to be angry. While she would sometimes go out of her way to get her best friend to notice her, his mom would randomly call just to compliment something Aelin posted online instead of commenting like most people do. Rowan offered to stop his mom multiple times, but Aelin’s ego would die without Rory’s calls by now.

She laughed, but it was a bit strained. “Thank you. It isn’t a party, Rowan and I are going to Emrys’s.”

Rowan’s taking you to Emrys’s?

His mother sounded so hopeful it hurt. Aelin would be too if she didn’t know better. She didn’t have the guts to look Rowan in the face now, but he sure was mortified. Just like he did every time someone in his family said something about the two of them getting together. Sure, they had a moment, but having physical attraction doesn’t really mean anything.

Aelin cleared her throat. “The dinner is actually a prize we won. It’s a bubblegum thing.”

Okay, we can chat another time. Be safe! Bye.

It didn’t take a genius to know why Rory ended the call in a rush. Rowan cleared his throat and took a step back.

“I’m going to request our ride.”

Aelin arched an eyebrow. “Are you drinking tonight, Buzzard?” she teased. Aelin needed to get rid of the awkwardness between them immediately.

He just sent her a tight-lipped smile. “I’m not turning down free wine.”

The restaurant was intimate and elegant. The pianist was Aelin’s favorite part of the restaurant, making her miss her pianoforte days. She had monthly wine tasting hangouts with her group of friends, and Rowan looked very proud as he used all the knowledge he acquired there into talking with the wine steward.

“Is this a piss-poor attempt of flirting with the sommelier? You know we’re drinking half of the wine list anyway.”

Rowan gaped, offended. “Do you have a problem with finding the perfect wine for this pizza?

Aelin giggled. “How many matches did you find? Because I can’t remember the amount of glasses I had so far.”

“It’s not about the glass count, Ace, it’s about the experience.”

“I do feel like the universe is balanced again by giving me back the pizza it stole,” Aelin mused, referring to the day they met. A mugger robbed Aelin’s pizza, Rowan saw it and threw a frozen chicken at him. They’d been best friends ever since. She noticed the silly smile he was wearing and gaped. “Is that why you ordered pizza?”

Rowan flushed, but he was grinning at her.

After making sure the chocolate hazelnut cake was as amazing as she heard (it was), Rowan requested their ride back home.

“Farewell, free dinner. Farewell, free wine,” Aelin said, waving at the restaurant as soon as she entered the car.

Rowan chuckled, draping an arm behind Aelin’s shoulders. When he started caressing her hair, she leaned on the touch and sighed, closing her eyes.

“Tired, Ace?”

The memory of whatever happened earlier that day, Rowan’s eyes on her exposed neck, and all the wine she drank made Aelin bold enough to rest her hand on his thigh. “Not at all,” she whispered with bedroom eyes. Rowan licked his lips, and the hand that was on Aelin’s hair brushed her arm. She shivered, hoping he didn’t sense how her traitorous skin burned for him.

Rowan held Aelin’s hand to help her leave the car and didn’t let go. When they entered the elevator, Rowan pulled her towards him with their conjoined hands and she wouldn’t dare breathe as he tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. His soft eyes searching for something she knew the answer for years. Aelin was sure he didn’t reciprocate her feelings. However, in that moment, she knew his body was feeling the same kind of pull towards each other, and that was all the cue she needed.

With embarrassingly shaky hands, Aelin gathered all the courage she had, cupped Rowan’s face and kissed him. She only had a second to be hesitant about it, because he grabbed her waist, pulling her closer almost immediately. If Aelin thought Rowan’s scent was intoxicating, that was because she had never tasted him before. As dizzy as their kiss made her feel, his urgent grip tethered her to the present in the best way. Everything she gave, Rowan took and asked for more. Kissing Rowan was perfect. He was—

The elevator doors opened, its sound shattering their moment.

Unfazed, Rowan took her hand and rushed to their apartment. Fumbling with the keys, he opened the door and pressed Aelin against the wall as soon as she entered home. Their kisses soon turned frenetic. When Rowan picked her up and snaked his hands beneath her golden dress, Aelin realized she loved the way he claimed her. Rowan’s touches were as possessive as his kisses.

“Are you sure?” he asked a little breathless.

“Very.” When she tried to resume the kiss, he leaned away again.

“But we’re drunk.”

“Sober Aelin wants you as much as Drunk Aelin.”

“Really?” His slow smile built like she’d just said the most romantic thing. “I feel the same. In fact, Sober Rowan must be really happy now.”

Aelin started fumbling with the buttons on his shirt. “Tell me more.”

“Sober Rowan.” He kissed her jaw. “Is aching,” he whispered on her ear, nibbling it too. “To do this.” And then he slid his thumb under Aelin’s underwear, running it across her slit and pressing against her clit.

Aelin’s brain short-circuited for a moment, making her do nothing but chase that friction. At least, until she moaned, “Take me to bed. Please.”

Rowan didn’t hesitate this time.

He sat Aelin in his bed and took her dress off himself. Rowan’s lips parted by the sight of Aelin’s naked upper body, and her heart was pounding when he pushed her into the bed, pinning her wrists. It was like he left trails of fire everywhere he touched. Rowan’s knee between her thighs. Rowan’s teeth biting her neck. Rowan’s tongue flicking her nipples. This was complete torture, the way he made her clench around nothing in the sweetest way.

“I need you,” Aelin breathed.

Rowan kissed her once more and started distancing himself from her face, but she stopped him by hooking her legs around his waist. Aelin couldn’t believe she was going to turn down oral sex, but there was a first time for everything. Just like fucking your best friend.

“Are you going to make me beg for your cock, Ro?”

“Don’t worry, baby. You won’t be begging much when I fuck that sass out of you.”

“Was that supposed to be a threat?” Aelin’s eyes sparkled as she rose to the challenge.

Rowan smirked, put on a condom from the bedside table in an instant, and carefully buried himself inside her. When Aelin watched his cock slowly disappear into her body, the only thing she could think about was how big he was and how long it had been since the last time she had sex. Rowan must’ve read her thoughts when he purred “Good girl” into her ear and started setting a pace.

Aelin kissed him between cries of pleasure, and she didn’t know how his back was taking her nails’s gentle stab. It was too much, and she still wanted more. Each thrust made her close to feverish, and even when Rowan slammed into her, they were never close enough. Rowan was the only thing she could feel, smell and see, but somehow it didn’t seem to be enough for neither of them.

“Oh my— Ro, I’m gonna—“ time slowed down as Aelin’s pleasure built and shattered on itself, making her cry out his name. Rowan held her and kissed her face until she recovered, and began chasing his own orgasm as soon as she recovered.

He kept a merciless pace this time, and Aelin wasn’t going to hide how turned on she was by Rowan using her for his own pleasure. Aelin’s muscles tensed, and they came down together, her shattered breaths hard to hear because Rowan was repeatedly whispering her name, praising her.

Rowan laid by Aelin’s side and tugged her close, breathing in the top of her head. Her face was resting on his chest, and she tried not to acknowledge the sound of his heart hammering against it. She wondered what he was thinking now. If he regretted it, or how long it’d take until he did. It was funny how Aelin would do anything to have post-sex cuddles with Rowan every day, except tell him how she felt.

Aelin mentioned to get up, but he pinned her on the bed and gave a long, tender kiss.

She brushed a few rogue strands of Rowan’s hair out of his forehead. “I need to shower.”

After having her shower delayed for several more minutes, Aelin finally went to the bathroom, but not without swishing her hips a little to make Rowan pay for it. When he joined her a few minutes later with a bottle of wine, she realized the three minutes they spent apart were the only ones of this night she didn’t enjoy.

Aelin started pouring a glass for herself, but it was a bit hard to hold the full bottle with only one hand, so she ended up spilling wine in the bathtub.

Instead of being mad, Rowan just laughed. “Are you still drunk?”

“I’m offended. You should try to pour a glass of wine without a table to help.” Except that he did. Without spilling a single drop. Aelin was giggling, but it became a full belly laugh when Rowan scooted closer to kiss her face, making the bathtub water slosh over the side.

He swallowed. “So. That happened.” It wasn’t hard to tell Rowan’s mood sobered up a little.

The neat freak Buzzard. “It did. I hope the water evaporates by tomorrow, I really don’t feel like drying it.”

Rowan shifted on his seat. “I mean us. Having sex.” He gave her a hesitant smile and sipped his wine.

Aelin could immediately feel her heart racing, but not in a good way this time. She knew they would have to talk about this eventually, but she hadn’t really thought about what she’d say. It was too soon for her, but delaying it was actually a stupid hope. Rowan was usually a careful person with his love life, and Aelin knew he wasn’t looking for a relationship. Despite her being terrified about telling him how she felt, she didn’t want to ask for too much of him and ruin what they already had. Even if it was just a tiny, earth-shattering sex bubble.

“You don’t need to worry,” Aelin blurted.

Rowan tilted his head. “How so?”

“Um,” Aelin stammered, “I— we’re not in a rush to define anything. Right? I mean, it’s fine. This happened, and we’re fine with it, right?”

His shoulders slumped a little, probably in relief, and he gave her a small smile. “Sure.”

Aelin had no idea how to make it less awkward, so she grabbed the first thing she saw to scrub her body and later realized it was his pine soap.

Rowan tapped Aelin’s side with his foot. “You’re too far.”

“Is that so?” she teased, thrusting out her chest so Rowan could see it above water. If everything went to shit, Aelin could always count with her bravado. Despite the last uncomfortable minutes, his eyes sparkled.

With that, Aelin was on her knees in front of Rowan, and she positioned herself until they were aligned, face to face. His eyes darkened in a heartbeat, and he kissed her while holding her hips, helping her sink in his already hard cock.

“You,” he muttered into her temple, “Are better than my wildest dreams.”

Aelin started moving, and they both moaned. The roll of their hips was languid this time, but the gentle pace didn’t ease any of the burning between Aelin’s legs. She was kissing, biting Rowan’s neck, and they way he started pressing her nub told her about how close he was. When Aelin went still and started crying out his name, Rowan started to roughly thrust himself from underneath her, not stopping until he emptied himself.

Still on the tub, Rowan was caressing her hair and stroking shoulders with his fingers. Aelin nuzzled her face on him. God, he gave such amazing cuddles. The three orgasms definitely drained her, Rowan wouldn’t even notice if she stopped to rest her eyes for a minute.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Aelin was sat, and her arms were being held up, a soft cotton fabric going around them. And then her head. Cracking her eyes open, the room was dark, but she could see Rowan’s silhouette in front of her. She grunted.

“You fell asleep on me, Ace.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Aelin couldn’t see his face, but the softness of Rowan’s voice was enough to soothe her drowsy worries.

Realizing she was already on her bed, Aelin adjusted whatever she was dressed in and laid down. She heard his footsteps, and saw a light coming through the door. “Ro?” The footsteps stopped. “Cuddles?”

The corridor lights being turned off. Soft footsteps coming to her. Rowan’s weight on her bed, and his arms pulling her closer. Aelin hummed, immersed in his pine and snow smell. Time to go back to sleep, then.

⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹ .・。

Part 2 is out! Or you can read how they met before the plot thickens.

A/N: I just found out I love making Rowan feel like an Augustine?? Am I a terrible person?

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[ellieknows]

High Cheng - Xu Minghao x Reader StonerAU (On-Going) Chapter Two

What happens when you get dragged to your best friends boyfriends party and end up getting high with a hot stranger, whom you got along with very well, only to realise the next day, you never got his name?

PLEASE READ AUTHORS NOTE AT THE END

Feedback/Constructive Criticism/Concerns can be given VIA comments, email (ellieknowsstories@gmail.com), or private messages.

Read Chapter One: All Big Parties Suck

CHAPTER TWO: A Smoking (hot) Stranger

MASTERLIST

DISCLAIMER: Drug Usage, Mentions of SA, College Party, Smoking

"Do you wanna, uh join me? On my balcony I mean."

I stay silent.

"I'm just saying cause, I get what you mean by finding my balcony relaxing. Its the sole reason I chose this to be my room. And I wouldn't want to overwhelm you more by forcing you back into that hectic mess."

I think for a short while. I mean, it's better than going back out there and crying more.

"Uh, yeah. Sure. That would be great."

"Cool! Let me just grab some beanbags I have in my closet so we aren't just sitting on the cold hard floor." He says as he makes his way to his closet pulling out two beanbags and bringing them out to his balcony.

I follow him in silence before sitting down on one of the beanbags and stare at the night sky.

A few minutes of silence passes by.

"Are you cool if I uh, smoke? It just my way of relaxing... If you aren't cool with it then I won't. I just wanted to ask" The hot stranger asks, breaking the silence.

"Oh, yeah! Go ahead. I don't mind."

"Are you sure? I just don't want the weed smell and all to annoy or affect you in any way."

"No, no. You're okay! I used to smoke so I'm used to all of that anyways."

"Used to?" He inquires as he pulls out a little box with pre-rolled joints and a lighter.

"Mhm! I used to smoke a fair bit, but then school got harder, and took up more time and brain power until smoking wasn't a thought anymore. I just didn't have time. Plus, schools gotta come first, no?"

By now he has lit the joint, taken a puff and now the smell is starting to become familiar.

"I guess so. But having fun is also something that should come first. I mean, if all you do is work, wheres the fun in that." He takes another hit. "I mean, don't get me wrong. I only smoke in moderation, unless its school break. I mean I can't let it affect my school life. But, we're also in college. We're supposed to be drunk or fried half to time."

I laugh. "I guess so. I mean, it did help with the stress. Especially whenever I'd have Mr 'Havoc' Harrison. I swear he's the sole reason I used to smoke so much. Fucking annoying as hell. Never let us have a break"

"You mean Gary Harrison? Teaches communications?" he inquires with enthusiasm.

"Yeah, why, you've had him before?" 

"Fucking hell, of course I have. I had to take one of his courses for my major or some shit. He's a shit teacher, no wonder he'd give us so much homework and assignments, cause the asshole never taught anything himself."

"Ugh, I get what you mean! Once I got super sick and couldn't turn up to classes and although I was emailing him about the lectures if he could forward me them or just tell me what we learnt, he just didn't! So when I approached him about it, he responded with 'Oh! I saw them. But you should've turned up to class instead of flaking on my classes. I'm not giving you resources for free.' Like, free! Dude I pay for your classes and all your stupid materials that we never use."

"Woah, really? Jesus, that must've sucked tenfold for ya. I still have no idea why he still teaches at this school."

I sigh. The anger in the rant, plus all the added emotions from the previous scenarios from this party, not to mention the smell of this guys joint, it's making me wanna-

"Hey." He says cutting off my thoughts. "You wanna hit?"

I look at him. "Huh?"

"I mean, today sure as hell must have sucked for you to be sitting out here in my balcony. Not to mention all the emotions rising in you after that rant. Plus you said you used to smoke to relax or destress, right? Why not smoke a joint?"

"Oh, I mean. I don't know. It's been a while."

"Just give it a try. I'll give you wanna my pre-rolled ones if you want?"

I look at him, unsure what to do.

"If you're still unsure, why not just take a few hits from my joint and if you don't want anymore, I'll happily smoke the rest."

If it were any other person in this world offering me this, offering me a joint, a total stranger. I would say no in a heartbeat. But, I wanna say yes. This man, this very attractive man, just makes me feel safe. Heck if it was anyone else, I wouldn't be here on a random balcony. But here I am. Making stupid choices. And this next choice might be one of them.

"You know what, sure. I'll take some hits from your joint."

Read Chapter Three: A Cry Fest

A/N: Please give me feedback on my writing! Two more chapters are posted (as of 23rd Feb 2024) however, the story is on-going.

This book is still in the works, and I desperately want to finish it this year. However, I'd like to make everyone aware of three issues. a) There are only three chapters published right now as I want to receive feedback from my audience on my writing style and plot building. Despite having been writing for many years, I am not confident in the style that I use for my stories and would appreciate constructive critique to help me improve future chapters. After a month of posting the chapters, further content will be added throughout this trail, I will collect the feedback, delete this section of my disclaimer, and apply my audience's feedback. Second, I am in my final year of school, therefore school comes first. Furthermore, my weekly schedule is extremely hectic, so many of these will be written during my rare free time or at times when most people are sleeping (don't worry, I will prioritise my health). Finally, this book covers mature issues like as drug usage, smoking, alcohol use, cheating, references to SA, and more. These will all be addressed at the start of the chapter so that you are aware in case triggers arise. Furthermore, I have never used drugs or any of the other topics discussed in this book, so I apologise if anything is incorrect.

Feedback/Constructive Criticism/Concerns can be given VIA comments, email (ellieknowsstories@gmail.com), or private messages.

[alliseaisfandom]

Wordtober day 4: Dodge

using the the official inktober prompts

People say opposites attract. People also say best friends should be like two peas in a pod. Maybe starting with what people say isn’t a great idea, because people also tended to say Deanna was a weirdo. And those were the people Isadora ended up punching.

Rubbing the other woman’s back with one hand and the other laid flat on the duvet, Isadora waited. For Deanna to stop shaking slightly, for her hand to grasp back in a sign she was back from the other side, for her eyes to roll back to the front of her skull, whichever came first.

Being an Oracle wasn’t easy. Deanna took it with extreme dignity.

A sharp gasp brought Isadora’s mind back to the present: The hand on the duvet was swiftly squeezed as Deanna grasped for an anchor and the other reached back for the glass of water they’d brought with them when Deanna felt “another one on the way”.

“Hey, it’s Isa. I’m here. You’re home, you’re okay.”

Deanna nodded, eyes still shut and sipping the cold water through the metal straw, the clinking of it against the glass the only sound in the room.

When she spoke, it was a bit hoarse, barely over a whisper. “It’s one of yours again.”

Isadora sighed. Being a Chosen One wasn’t easy either.

It certainly helped that her best friend had an insight on just what she was Chosen for. In the same way it helped Deanna make sense of her visions if she had been present for most of the life of the subject.

Opposites. Peas in a pod. Take your pick.

Once Deanna was back on her feet, she drew aside the curtain on the far wall of her room, revealing a white board full of two very distinct and equally tiny types of handwriting, a couple books worth of post it’s, and the occasional news clipping. The board was used for most prophecies, but only the really important (and unrelated to them) stayed.

“Why is it me again?”

“I do not know! Ask your weirdly big family if they have a tradition of signing fates off to the supernatural!”

“This is what, the third time this year? Fourth?”

Deanna grimaced “Fifth.”

“Fifth??”

“Yea remember that time I changed my mind and we went rock climbing instead of on a beach trip?”

“Yea?” Isadora raised her head from where she’d flopped down on the bed.

“Yea.”

“Ugh! How do you block the Universe’s number?”

“I’ll tell you what, when I find out you’ll be the first to know.” She basically sighed the sentence.

Isadora got up. She didn’t really know how to answer other than slide her arms around Deanna and hold tight. “I’m sorry, Dea.”

“It’s fine, it’s not like you made me an oracle. And it’s not bad when they’re you. It means I can help you.” She tilted her head, lightly headbutting Isa. “Dodging time?”

Isa smiled against her.

“Okay, so! What do you have?”

“I have the sun, moon and rising constellation of your birthdate.”

“Oh so it’s me me.”

“Yeah. I also have…” She trailed off, brow furrowed.

They’d been doing this for years, so Isa knew not to push. Dea didn’t really have prophecies told to her as much as she was shown flashes of scenes culminating in a giant domino effect that was usually saving or ending some part of the world. Not always, though. Sometimes the prophecies were small like “Mr. Forin will be pissed off next Wednesday and deliver a surprise exam” – illustrated ever so helpfully by a family home, a detailed image of an explosion followed by falling drops and a roulette wheel- or “Old lady Ori’s cat will get tangled in spider webs and wander the neighborhood” – and nobody wants the vivid description of an anatomically correct spider-cat hybrid shared over lunch.

“The first daughter of the first daughter of the first daughter.” Dea almost yelled. But her enthusiasm was short lived, “Wait, that’s doesn’t fit you.”

Isa thought for a bit. “Oh that’s low.”

“What?”

“It does fit. My dad’s the oldest kid.”

“Your da- fucking transphobic prophecies!”

Isadora reached into the sides of the board and pulled in her picture and one of her dad to the small open space where they had for figuring out today’s message.

“Wait, we’ve established they don’t care about blood lines right?”

“Yea, there was that one about your witch aunt that turned out to be your mom’s best friend.”

“Does it have a date?”

“What?”

“The thing I will do. Is it dated?”

“I mean, there are definitely early summer vibes to the scene, why?”

“Because!” Isadora reached across the board again, this time picking up a picture of a woman in her forties, the name ‘Allison’ scribbled in blue ink “My dad is marrying my stepmom in three months on the 20th! And she has-”

“She has two kids older than you!!”

“So in summer, I will be the youngest child!!” Isa grinned.

“And the second daughter!” Dea smiled back, raising her hand. “Dodged!”

“Dodged!” Isa high fived her.

That was their thing. Sure, it wasn’t always this easy, especially when the visions weren’t about Isa. But they’d gotten good at figuring out the who and the what, and if it was worth making the effort to dodge. Sometimes they couldn’t. That’s what the news clippings were for. For every catastrophic train accident there was a front page spread on a miraculous save borne of chance. For every post it with scribbled out names when they got it wrong there were small notes thanking one or both of them for suspiciously well timed advice they’d given someone.

Isadora and Deanna had been best friends since the day they’d met. Isa had been there when Dea had her first vision, when the doctors couldn’t find reason for the “seizures”, when they finally realized her vivid dreams would step out into the world and when they stopped the first one. And she’d been sitting on this same duvet the first time Dea had a vision about her. And the second. And the third. And the on average 4.6 times – now 4.8 – she was featured on some big catastrophic event.

The world was still standing. This was their thing.

Many months after Isa’s dad’s wedding (which Dea attended obviously) and after the supposed coming of the vision (Dea tried to not give her details of the action if she had them, or even of the specific day, but she had looked up to Isa one late spring day, and said from where she rested her head on her lap “it would’ve been today” with a small  proud smile, before returning to her book) , it happened again.

They were in Isa’s dad’s kitchen. He and Allison had gone out for the weekend and Alex and Charlie were still at work, so Isa had dinner on her hands; which is to say Dea had dinner on her hands and Isa was on cutting veggies duty.

The speed with which Isa put down the knife and caught the bag of noodles off of Dea’s hand would’ve made records. And then she waited.

When Dea came back to herself, she was… different.

They did all the rituals and reassurances and then Dea wouldn’t really look at Isa all of the sudden. Eyes shifty and face flush and the nervous finger tapping was back, that had left around highschool, why was that back?

“So… Is it someone you know?” She tried

“Mhm.”

“Oh that’s nice! Is it one to dodge?”

Silence.

Okayy then. “Do I know who it is?”

“I- yea.”

“Oh cool, is it someone from work? That Jayce fellow in the lobby has biiig Chosen vibes.” Nothing. “Or maybe Tessa? I mean I wouldn’t say I know her since she’s your boss and all but-“

“It’s you!”

“Oh! Why didn’t you say so?”

“It’s- it’s also me… It’s tricky.”

“Ah. Well if it’s anything big, we got it right? I mean unless I have to go out into a tick infested backwoods somewhere to appease some fae anthropologists, that was not a fun month.”

Dea stayed quiet again.

“Dea? You there?”

“Hm?”

“You didn’t say it.”

“Say what?”

“You always say ‘tell me about it’ when I talk about that month, and then you tell me one more ridiculous excuse you came up with for why I wasn’t at uni then.”

“Right, yea. Tell me about it.” Dea’s eyes were unfocused. Far away.

“I’m not leaving.”

That seemed to do something. Dea snapped her head up, looking right at Isa.

“If it’s something like I’m meant to leave you or hate you or hurt you consider it Dodged! I would die before I did that.”

Dea opened her mouth a couple times, but her voice got lost on it’s way out and she closed it again. Isa took her hands in hers. “I know you can’t always tell me but- I’m geeing worried here.”

Dea closed her eyes for a bit. “It’s… You’re meant to… Sit alongside me.”

“Ha! Little late for that, started doing that in 6th grade!”

“No, that’s too literal, you’re… not supposed to leave!”

“Pretty sure we just went over that actually.” Isa chuckled.

Dea shook her head violently. Isa’s easy smile fell, she could see her friend was distressed but to not be able to help-

“Dea, I know it’s hard. But I can’t help if you din’t describe it to me, I need to know what I’m aiming for when i say stuff or I ca-”

“Marriage!” She almost yelled. “The closest definition in the english language is… marriage. And all it entails.”

Oh.

Oh.

Dea still wasn’t looking at her. And that just wouldn’t do, not now! I mean sure it was a tricky situation, it wouldn’t do that Dea was uncomfortable every time Isa was around for the rest of their lives, and Isa was pretty sure step one of a marriage was falling for someone and she had had that one down pat for ages so- wait a minute…

The nervous tapping. The flush. The silence at whether or not she wanted to dodge it. The way she wouldn’t look Isa in the eyes goddamnit.

Isa lifted one hand away from Dea’s own to curl it around her chin and gently turn her gaze back

“Hi.” Still nothing. “I have a question.”

It was silent permission but it was permission nonetheless.

“What would happen if I didn’t want to dodge it? Just this once?”

Turning Dea’s eyes to her was the best decision Isa could’ve made because the way the woman’s eyes widened was just about the most precious view she’d ever experienced.

“But it wouldn’t- It’s not you that wants it, it’s the-”

“Dea, you’ve known me for over ten years. In those you’ve had visions of me a total of 65 times. We dodged 57 of them, and the ones we didn’t were a choice. I think we’ve established the existence of my free will.” Isa smiled at Dea’s barely contained eyeroll, even now, at her head for numbers, “so I am not asking about the grand scheme of things. I’m asking you. What would happen if I didn’t want to dodge it?”

Dea took her time: searching Isa’s face, cataloguing every micro expression she’d grown up with, every millimetre of skin waiting for a catch she knew damn well wasn’t coming. And when she was secure enough, she finally answered, voice tiny and hopeful:

“No dodging.”

And Isa didn’t need prophetic powers to tell her that was the best decision they had ever made. Through that night’s dinner, holding hands under the table, through every kiss where they melted into each other as if it was their first again, through every night for the rest of their lives, from the one where they finally did a real proposal to the one where they exchanged teary eyed vows.

No dodging.

[ohwell-itsme-but-danganronpa]

DRS: Makoto Naegi

well, here we go

oh, he thought Naegi's luck would work the same way as Komaeda's

PERHAPS YOU LACK THE MEANS OF SELF-OBSERVATION I am saving that one

first roasting him then comparing him to a butterfly, still doubting that luckster wouldn't be a danger to others

they're on completly different pages, Makoto doesn't understand a thing he's saying and he doesn't believe what Makoto told him about his luck, somehow Gundham ended getting something out of this conversation

Komaru was in a closet once

Kaede commenting about Makoto being experienced as a brother made me think how this is typical Kaede problem-solving, she took the initiative to confront Masaru, but asked Makoto for help,

she knows when someone can handle a situation better than her and is open to inviting them to the conversation, but still has to take the lead and stays involved instead of letting Makoto deal with it on his own

so Makoto is a "complete newbie" when it comes to online games, huh. Chiaki offering to teach him was kinda cute

Kyoko interaction so marriedcore, they're gonna investigate together "We can each see things the other might not ;)", Makoto's flipping through reactions and she's just giving him that little smile the whole time

they didn't find anything and she still said it wasn't wasted time, oh they're not giving up on the investigation yet, but still, they spend the whole afternoon together and then the next event also starts with her

it's honestly a little funny how he's making nervous expressions so much while she's mostly smiling, even making that closed-eyes very content face, I don't remember Kyoko smiling this much in thh

them!

apparently they've been talking for a while, curious, oh it's the one where she tells him to be careful, okay it's my favorite this far

pfft

Tsumgi waging psychological warfare on Makoto for fun

out of his Potential of Talent options I have to say, I didn't even expect Sayaka to be there, but I ended up liking this one the most, it was interesting, also what was that with him telling Komaru he hasn't told their parents about his plans, I thought he was a good boy

ugh, Makoto has more events than others, it's the longest compilation, glad I started with it, it would be a pain to go through later when I'll lose my enthusiasm

It takes so long bc I am taking notes, I am fucking studying everything they're saying, taking it seriously, I am on a 7th page of notes and just getting into Hiroko & Kokichi event

When she said "Let's hear Kokichi out" never ever have a single sentence meant so much to me, I love her for that, this is so groundbreaking to me, if I were in his shoes I'd tear up but I am a weaker bitch with the same issues so

both of the fake origin stories he has here have him already in the area of the academy as a baby, that's really interesting, is it implying that he has no past prior to attending if so, is it a message to them not to pry or his feeling, was he raised there, what (screaming)

a little weird choice for Makoto to have so many events and then in several he's just sorta there for exposure, like, that's so very protagonist of him to be present during interesting situations so we can see them, adding nothing to them,

in Kyoko & Shuichi and Hiroko & Kokichi events it's super clear he's just there as a side dish, and in his event with Togami they just *subtly* explain to us who did what for a barbecue despite not being interested Togami entertains him long enough for Naegi to say what he has to

Junko's event was weird, guess I have to do her events next to try to understand, she said she's bored of her old shtick and that she wants an exciting, unpredictable future. When Makoto said she'll be fine, she called him a bad judge of character, but that's wrong, he was just

thinking of the other Junko he knows, it's not his fault or a bad judgement. I am thinking of the moment when she looked happy at the prospect of that hopeful future he believes she has, the deadpan reaction is delayed like it caught up to her that he's talking about

Mukuro, not her. At the beginning of their interaction he makes a comment he already told Mukuro, Junko has a wildly different reaction, then she shares that she has no hope and he reassures her, she smiles and then he brings up knowing her for 3 years, she gets angry

not saying that's exactly what happens, just trying to wrap my head around it, my theory is that she thought he knew he was talking to a different person, so she was disappointed when she realized he was talking as a Mukuro's friend and not as an ult hope giving even her a chance

I was also trying to guess why Komaeda was making that face in Makoto's "My Future" and all I came up with are those two scraps: 1)Makoto acted in a way he didn't expect, he's disappointed because he doesn't understand Makoto's hope?

2) he's jealous of what the other luckster is able to achieve? He said that luck is a lame talent, he never saw it as equal to others, but turns out it isn't as much of a setback for Makoto as it is for him and the other is still able to reach high in a way he wouldn't dare to

I am not one of the Komaeda specialists tho, so I'll leave figuring it out to them, my brain is too small and my heart even smaller and already filled with Kokichi, I am not gonna give myself a headache over this, have fun

First posted on December 9, 2021 (twitter) Detailed notes below (WARNING: since this was the first one I went through, I didn't know what to focus on and it ended up extremely long, none of the characters I'll be posting about next will have a comparable amount of notes, I am so sorry, keep reading at your own risk):

first event: Gundham Tanaka

calling Naegi a sinner

he thought Naegi's luck would work like Nagito's

assuming that luck has to be dangerous, if Naegi doesn't think he's dangerous then it's his obliviousness

Makoto doesn't understand Gundham at all

somehow Gundham ended up answering some existential question he had just by talking at Makoto (we don't learn what)

he let Makoto pet the Devas in gratitude (offered their "blessing")

second event: Kaede Akamatsu & Masaru Daimon

walked in on Kaede scolding Masaru for sleeping at the music venue

turns out she asked Makoto for help, he checked on other kids off-screen, they were in their rooms

WoH remind him of his sister so he's concerned for them and can't ignore them

Masaru taking their worries as trying to control him

did WoH really have a fight? It looks like they guessed right, judging Masaru's face

Komaru locked herself in a closet once

"intervening will only make him rebel more"

"I can tell you really have experience as a brother"

both Kaede quotes, I guess this scenario shows her personality well, she took the initiative, but relied on somebody who she believed was experienced to assist her

third event: Chiaki Nanami

sleepy... zzz (for real)

Chiaki! you're going to spill your soup, oh no, she doesn't hear us, she has air pods

jk, she woke up

pulled an all-nighter, I feel you

she met somebody other than Sonia that's from Novoselic online for the first time? Or was that Sonia all along, hm?

She always prioritizes the game over chatting, but not this time

she invited Makoto to play with her, he called himself a complete newbie, but he's interested

aww, she offered to teach him

he tells her to lower her expectations for his luck with drops

fourth event: Kyoko Kirigiri

so Makoto is investigating the island himself, something with the mysterious photo that probably wasn't taken by Mahiru herself since she "doesn't remember taking it" AND Kyoko offers to investigate together

those two are so marriedcore idc

she looks so pleased to spend time with him, while he's constantly making some nervous expressions

for Kyoko it's fun, not a serious investigation

they both look forward to seeing each other again (it's evening)

fifth event: Kyoko Kirigiri & Shuichi Saihara

they have been there for a while before Makoto joined

Kyoko was telling Shuichi detective stories from her investigations, talking about detectives she worked with, many are dead now, she rarely gets to talk with fellow detectives nowadays

she's looking out for Shuichi, Makoto adding that it applies to her too

sixth event: Maki Harukawa

she's accusing him of being "conspicuous" right off the bat

they got an idea that the picture might be of a ghost?

she said she'll tell his classmates that he's "up to something interesting" if she meets them, nice

seventh event: Tenko & Impostor

"Tenko, you look like you're in agony"

well, that was harsh of the Impostor, guess he was feeling very Byakuya today

it's good to see her trying to change

eighth event: Komaru Naegi & Sayaka Maizono

Komaru being awkward around Sayaka just like in the prologue

ah, she's mad at him for not getting it

they're annoyed at each other now

ninth event: Tsumugi Shirogane

they're going to watch a movie

bonding over being basic bitches

Tsumugi sends a psychic attack, plainly

A rivalry?!

Oh my god, psychological warfare on my Makoto

"teasing", you were torturing him, girl.

Potential Of Talent:

-Maybe I should talk to another lucky person (Komaeda)

"Aren't I lucky, getting sick on a school field trip?" bastard, what the fuck do you mean by that?

still calling himself a scum and thinking his talent is lame

they both think that the other's luck is more impressive

-I am lucky my sister is here! I'll talk with her. (Komaru)

uh oh, they're picking up where they left off

he's never been uncomfortable with ultimates, duh, he's one of them

Makoto is asking a big question, will they be back to ordinary after graduating from Hope's Peak? I think not.

She tells him their parents are stressing about what he's going to do post-graduation

Oh? he hasn't talked to them? One would think Makoto to be mama's boy, but guess not.

Makoto, does death flag mean anything to you?

-Who knows a thing or two about chasing dreams? (Sayaka)

Surprisingly cute, I like what she said, Makoto can work with anyone, doesn't have to limit himself to a group of related talents since they don't really exist

I am proud to be an idol, but...

she compared talents to weapons, people with tangible talents weaponize them, Makoto doesn't

she said that makes him different, but she also expects him to find "his weapon" eventually

she knew he was looking for advice and pulled the classic "I'm a psychic" joke

tenth event: Byakuya Togami

he gives Togami a ticket? To what?

a barbecue, Leon's idea. Togami didn't want a ticket before he knew what it was for

Mondo is involved, to prevent Monokuma interfering, that's why they need tickets too, those are illustrated by Hifumi and his idea (he def got from cons), important events should use tickets, looks like the event is group effort

Togami calls it pointless and Naegi a nuisance

Teruteru will help with cooking (so more of a boys night rather than their class like I first thought)

Teruteru and Kirumi's cooking is good enough for Togami, shocking.

eleventh event: "Junko" Mukuro Ikusaba

she loves swimming, got to move a lot

"guess models have a lot more stamina than you'd think" ha! Makoto... "More or less." girlie, I can't.

"I've never gone on school trips or anything like that before", "It was my choice", at least she gets to be happy now

the camp is a golden opportunity for ultimates who live very busy lives (like her)

stop frowning, Makoto! Now you've done it, she's embarrassed

Mukuro retreated into the sea (but dragged him along)

twelfth event: Hiroko Hagakure & Kokichi Ouma

Hiroko pointing out how wild Hope's Peak is as a concept

Kokichi calls her Hiromom

"Can't guarantee an answer though." I like her

Shut up Makoto, it's a good question. Hiroko is smarter than that and wants to hear Kokichi out

Hiroko being chill about Yasuhiro's talent and having a normal relationship with him, so good, so exceptional in DR universe full of fucked up people, bonus points that she knows how people can treat their talented kids (profiting or shunning) and goes back to acknowledge the issues can occur in any family, the status of an Ultimate doesn't change anything, parent's role stays the same (therefore it shouldn't matter whether a child is talented or not, parent's love should be unconditional)

but yeah, Ultimate households have a /slightly/ higher chance of those problems happening

"I was born from the big tree behind Hope's Peak Academy", "I often dream about what it'd be like to have parents. I want the clearest image possible!" (he makes a serious face here, slightly upset even) "Didn't you say you were abandoned as an infant in a coin locker at the station nearby the academy?"

Is Kokichi pointing at something more than not having parents in his life? Is it a message not to pry into his past? Is it a genuine feeling that his life started at the academy? Is it not a metaphor and he was raised at Hope's Peak?

she calls him a naughty kid for that outrageous lie and he changes from that serious face to his biggest smug smile

Summer Festival: (Live Street Performance)

-Fuyuhiko is performing with us. What's he up to?

so Fuyu tried playing instruments... and found out that it isn't easy to learn playing

they brainstorm what to do (non-described)

-Nekomaru is performing with us. What's he up to?

screaming wildly, apparently, maybe he's yodeling?

they also brainstorm, while doing vocal exercises

-If anyone has an answer, it'll be Ibuki!

"have you heard of body percussion, Makoto?"

"Ibuki gave me some valuable advice!" Idk about that.

Send-off bonfire

-I did manage to get along with Ultimates... (Hajime)

Hajime "Wait, aren't you an Ultimate too?"

yeah, yeah, basic bitches bonding 2, maybe no psychological warfare this time boys

-I've gotten a little stronger at least... (Mukuro)

time to get roasted by Mukuro ig

ok, at least he knows, "I am as scrawny as ever", he meant emotional growth, "your heart and will or some junk"

"you've been plenty capable from the very get-go!"

I'm glad they got to talk about memories and that she's being so positive

-I'm still not quite sure what luck is exactly... (Nagisa)

not Nagisa telling Makoto he's complicates

"Harsh evaluation", guess Naegi got roasted again

My Future...

two paragraphs? of "people working behind the scenes"?

a group of academy personnel entered this world to perform tests

what the photos have to do with tests?

Shuichi didn't understand Chihiro's "technobabble" aww (I wouldn't either)

Mahiru's embarrassed, she started all that drama, and it's leftover data from resets

enlightening experience: many people are involved that we don't see (allowing them the camp experience with all this unseen work)

Nagito's looking so disappointed, is it because Makoto acted in an unexpected way? Is he jealous of what Makoto is achieving with the same talent as him?

Thirteenth event: Junko Enoshima (real)

she can also swim a lot, but it bores her with how effortless it is

Makoto makes the same comment about stamina, but unlike Mukuro she flips out at him (So did he notice she's different? It's almost like he did for a moment, but then no) [I didn't know Junko and Mukuro aren't both at the camp and that there are 2 parallel timelines to include them until I was doing Junko's events]

bored of her old shtick? wants a future?

how cute that he tries to support her, thinking it's the same Junko

"you're a bad judge of character", no, he's just thinking of your sister. Is she upset because she thought he knew and he failed that expectation, talking as Mukuro's friend instead of ult. hope talking to her?

Somewhere in the main plot, out of events, Makoto gains the confidence displayed in "My Future", the investigation helped him figure out what he wants to do - work at Hope's Peak, this is exactly what he needed to gain his hope fragment

[dynamoe]

SUMMARY: Pete vents his spleen on his personal pirate radio. Billy proves his boy genius mettle with some after-school tutoring, but ends up getting schooled... in matters of the heart?

read part two on archive of our own | TOMORROW chapter index

← go back to part one | go on to part three

Trigger warnings: Comparable to parent series— swearing, slurs, implied xenophobia/racism, cruelty-disguised-as-affection and affection-disguised-as-cruelty

Pete eyeballed the stack of tapes on the kitchen counter before turning back to the dumpster-salvaged IBM clone he was defragging.

"Jeeze, more videos, pal? Can we take a break from movies and, I dunno, do some science?" 

"Chut chut chut chut-chut-chut," defragged the PC in agreement.

"Like I actually believe you want to work," Billy scoffed, unplugging the Sega Genesis and hooking up the VHS player.

"All of a sudden you're, like, Mr. Big Cinephile," White rolled his eyes, "I don't have time to watch all this stuff, fella."

"So, don't. I'll watch them alone," Billy dismissed, throwing himself onto the couch and feeling under the cushions for the remote.

He defragged a full 5MB before Pete finally put it together, "This is so you can see that girl who works in the video store?  Aw, man. You pathetic loser."

"What? What makes that pathetic?" Billy shouted angrily over the MGM fanfare blaring out of the TV, "We're friends!"

Pete shook his head, "As if."

↓ 📼 continues below the fold 📼 ↓

"Street of Crocodiles, The Third Man, and The Apple . That's quite a varied buffet you got there, Simply Red," the Riot Clrrrk remarked as she scanned each barcode into the register

"What complements a luxurious meal of caviar and filet mignon—" Billy explained, gesturing to the Quay Brothers and Carol Reed, "More than a dessert of rat shit and cocaine à la mode," and held up the VHS of The Apple like it was toxic waste.

Alison smirked hard and bit her lip. Was it a laugh? Maybe that's how she laughed – just too cool to laugh audibly.

Billy explained, "When we do a double feature, I let my roommate narrow it down from Class, Sass or Ass."

"Wow," Alison said sarcastically, looking over her Buddy Holly glasses, "You cool, cool guys sure have a jam-packed social life."

"Mock if you must, it only draws attention to your jealousy for not being on our exclusive guest list," Billy said archly, pushing his already upturned nose higher with his fingertip.

"You and that ersatz Winter brother don't party too hard this weekend. I don't want to read any obituaries on Monday."

"We will have died how we lived. Half asleep on our couch watching Cannon Films dystopian disco musicals."

She pushed his tapes to the edge of the desk so he could grab them easier.

"Have a good weekend, NYPD Blue."

Billy paused mid-stride on his way out the door.

"Why NYPD Blue?" Billy was stumped, "Sipowicz doesn't have red hair," 

"No, not Dennis Franz. The other one," Alison shook her fingers, searching for the name, "You know who I mean. His partner."

"David Caruso? He left after one season."

She shrugged, "I'm not really a regular watcher."

"Well, you should be. NYPD Blue's a great fucking show."

"Ugh, Get out of my store, Anne of Green Gables,"

Billy cheerfully waved, "G'night Alischon."

Billy conceded may have been overdoing it. He may have been going into Video Madness too often and  renting too many videos. He may have been coming off a little puppy-like.  He just had never had someone before he could just come by to shoot the shit with so casually. Someone who was generally happy to see him and remembered what he liked enough to recommend moves he "absolutely had to see." 

Even though she posed cooler-than-thou and spoke in a bored monotone, she was matching his enthusiasm in her own way. It wasn't one-sided. She even once ran out of her store to find him out on the strip mall's one bench, waiting for Pete to pick him up after work as usual, because she was so excited about Video Madness' new arrival.

"Oh my God!  Look what we just got in!" she waved the cassette an inch from his face.

"Skidoo?! I didn't think that was ever made on VHS," Billy admired, and then automatically quizboyed, "Groucho Marx's last movie. He dropped acid with Paul Krassner to prepare for the role."

"I set it aside for you," her eyes sparkled in delight, "It. Is. Horrible!"

Her passion, although bizarre, was infectious. He felt like she had permitted him to be a member of their secret two-person club— the only intellectuals sophisticated enough to appreciate the worst pop-cultural garbage that the squares overlooked. (And, as Groucho said,  no one would want to be a member of a club that would have them as a member...or something)?  

At home, White voiced the counter-argument.

"What really sets me off? She's a tourist," Pete circled the kitchenette as he gathered his thoughts, punching the air with his half-eaten sloppy joe in one hand for emphasis. 

"'Cause everybody hates a tourist," sang Billy under his breath, "Especially one who thinks it's all such a laugh…" Billy gave him a side-eyed glance from the breakfast table and then put the watchmaker's loupe back in his eye. 

Pete swung around, thrusting his sloppy joe accusingly, "A freak tourist!"

"Don't use that word," Billy scowled, guiding his scalpel through the wall of the left ventricle of the heart on the pie plate in front of him, "And you're getting Manwich juice all over the floor."

"No, pally, that's not me saying that. That's what it is to her. You're, like, her own personal sideshow. She comes around to gawk. See Jo-Jo The Pug-faced Boy! Shock! Alive!"

"You're full of baloney," Billy peeled back a membrane with tweezers, "Alischon has never treated me as anything other than a friend."

"To your smooshed up face maybe," White explained, "Behind your back, she gets sick thrills over how weeeihhhd you are. 'Ew, look at his big head. Gross! His ears are on sideways!' Etc."

"I'm not listening to you," Billy looked from the textbook diagram to the organ on his dissection tray.

"Bored suburban teenagers are boring," Pete stated authoritatively, " So, she decides she's going to go all Ally Sheedy in The Breakfast Club. Why have a personality when you can be 'so out there.'" White air-quoted with disgust.

Billy just let him rant. White sometimes went on a tear and it was best to let him peter himself out. (Peter. Heh.)

"So she dyes her hair rainbow colors. Wears ugly clothes and homemade jewelry. Claims only like annoying music and stupid TV shows. Stop me if I'm getting close, pally."

Billy flinched. White wasn't exactly wrong, in a nutshell.

"...And she needs to prove her freaky bona fides by having a weeeeiiiihhhhhd boyfriend."

Billy exploded angrily, pounding  his fist on the table, "I'm not her boyfriend. Friend! We're friends."

White ignored him, affecting a 'girl voice,' "Oh, she's so avant-garde she's fucking that albino kid from our literature seminar. Wow, such out-there taste makes her so cool and different and whatevah."

Billy collected himself, "Now you're projecting."

"And you're supposed to be so grateful that this normal is lowering herself to be seen with you twisted genetic monster. And she gets off on your worship. It's all a big ego boost."

Pete shouted right in Billy's face, "Don't you get it? You're an accessory to a lifestyle. You're not a person, you're a handbag."

Billy sputtered, "I'm not a handbag!"

The commotion shook the table enough to knock the dissection subject over into a mushy pile with a squish-thud. Pete finally noticed what Billy was working on.

"What the hell is that?!"

"A sheep's heart. I bought them from the butcher at the supermarket to practice."

"To practice... open sheep surgery?"

Billy blinked. "Unless you have a ready supply of human corpses, this is the best I can do."

Pete thought a minute, then realized something. He started to speak, "Actually—"

Billy cut him off," No. No. I'm sure you could find a dead body, but I don't want to even know who you know. I strike the question from the record."

Pete tossed the remains of his sandwich in the trash and opened the fridge

Bill called out preemptively, "Don't open that Tupperware in the fridge. It's full of cow's eyes."

"Aw, you're making my favorite dinner for our anniversary!" Pete cooed mockingly.

Billy tapped his anatomy textbook, "I'm doing ophthalmology in the next chapter."

Pete bypassed the stay-fresh box of bovine eyeballs and grabbed a Fresca, "I'm going to the studio."

"You mean the shed?" Billy taunted.

"The broadcast studio, you dink."

"When you ordered it from Sears was it in the 'broadcast studio' section or the 'garden shed' section?"

Pete grumbled. 

Billy dropped it, "Whatever. Go play with your HAM radio. "

"Goddamn it, Billy. It's not HAM radio, it's pirate radio. HAM radio is for weird lonely dorks."

Billy stared. "I'm not touching that set-up. Too easy."

Pete scowled at him and snapped the cordless phone from its cradle, "Stay off the modem for the next hour. I'm taking calls."  

He harrumphed out the front door, attempting to slam the screen door, which only weakly squeaked shut behind him.

"Calls from who?" Billy asked the empty room*. 

II. CIRCUIT BREAKER BREAKER

As much as they argued, it never ended with a huge blowout. The trailer lacked doors good for slamming required for an angry flounce. It also didn't have enough isolated spaces for solitary brooding afterward – just one long room. There was the bathroom, but occupying that any longer than necessary was both gross and cruel to the other party. Pete could climb on the roof to "get away" but he had already ripped one hole in the ceiling by doing just that. Driving around on the Conjecture Scooter to cool off was out with the price of gas as high as it was. Wandering in the desert was far too Biblical and carried too big a risk of getting lost – one sagebrush shrub looked a lot like another –  with the sun coming up.

Buying a shed was an imperfect solution but was within their shoestring budget— a  little prefab corrugated aluminum tool storage building so small he had to duck fit into it. It was originally just a sulking shed, but as he moved in more of his recording and broadcasting junk and then his full record and CD collection, it gradually transitioned itself into a broadcast studio without him trying. Building the aerial was a weekend project and with that up, he was in business, pirating frequencies within a 20 km radius to blast his European Only-release Duran Duran B-sides plus the latest in DIY bedroom label lo-fi off into the ether. 

Was anyone listening? No idea. He gave the fax number and the PO Box on the air every show but never heard anything back.

"Okay, down to business,"  White cracked his knuckles over the transmitter, "Got my Wild Cherry Fresca and I got my Black Jack gum," he popped a stick in his mouth and then spit it out immediately, "Oh god, that's horrible! Why do I keep buying this?" 

Every night at 10, he sent out his signal. 

His college radio show was "The White Room." In his brief and inconsistent commercial radio career, he tested tryout shows under titles "The White Void," "White Noise," "Pale Shelter," and "Unto Whited Sepulchres" (during his embarrassing goth/Christian phase), none of which found an audience and were canceled immediately.  The whole world was his audience now so he referred to the show as "White Nation." (It never occurred to him what that phrase actually implied; it sounded cool to him and that was as much thought as he gave it.)

"You're listening to the Evah Populah Pete White on White Nation, commandeering the airwaves from the powers that be. A lone voice in the wilderness, screaming." 

He usually just plunged into his playlist, only coming on to name tracks once every 5-10 plays, but he needed to vent to somebody. The open airwaves were his best option. 

He pulled the mic arm over to his mouth, set a bed track (Yellow Magic Orchestra, Firecracker)  and growled "We are under attack, y'know. Don't get complacent that you got a good thing going. The outside is always trying to break in, ruin what you've got. INVADING your space."

Yeah, it was little melodramatic, but what's wrong with a little showmanship? He vamped while trying to pull the next LP out of a sleeve.

"Your happiness is under constant assault! These OUTSIDERS want to take away what's yours and even your closest friends will call you a LIAR for telling them the TRUTH that they can't see."

Damn, the record was really stuck in there. He didn't want to rip the cover. 

".... these...seductive women...with their...colored hair and their...um...pigment. Turning your closest family against you. Somebody oughta do something…"

Got it. Must have caught on some old glue seepage inside  the sleeve. He slid the platter out and onto the turntable. "Coming up— Talk Talk, Alphaville, Gary Numan. Now here's Blancmange's 1983 track Living on the Ceiling. He gingerly placed the needle on the spinning disc and faded the input from mic to LP-1, letting out a breath. He felt a little better. 

In between Tears for Fears and Spandau Ballet, the power suddenly cut out, plunging the shed into darkness. He could hear Billy shout from back in the trailer. They were putting a lot of demands on one home-made generator. Being a self-taught engineer with little interest in "best practices" or "basic electrical safety," Pete expected his equipment to short out regularly. 

"Turn it off and turn it back on again" always worked in computing...why not here?, he thought as he flicked a power strip (with 27 different fraying extension cords plugged into it) on/off button with his toe. Everything back up, no problem. It even activated a rainbow flashing party light, an executive desk toy of a tsunami in a box, and a rock tumbler he hadn't even realized were plugged in, mixed in with the piles of old junk. He could just barely make out a tiny crackling voice through static coming  from somewhere in the shed.

"... fzzzt….Breaker Breaker…crrrckkkkkk."

He looked through the shelf for the source, then under piles of boxes and  shifted over a stack of CDs and a bin of hex-nuts, digging to find a dust-crusted CB Radio he got for Christmas 1976. How the hell did he still have that? How the hell was it still working? Why the hell did he have it plugged in?

The CB scanned the local airwaves picking up on truckers too traditional or too cheap to upgrade to car-phone, picking up casual conversation and speed trap alerts from anyone in range. He picked out three or four different voices and CB handles.

"Get your ears on, Dinner Plate – White's broadcasting again. 97.88 AM" "I can't stomach that haircut music. I'm 10-10 on the side. Over." "Negatory, good buddy. That boy's spitting some truth. Dial in." "He's taking back the airwaves from the man, Soap Suds. 10-4."

Hey, someone was listening. 

"Oh, you're listening to the Evah Populah Pete White, reclaiming the airwaves from our corporate overlords. If you're listening...if anyone is listening, you can call our studio at ___," Pete gave the number for the fax line. He usually did as a matter of routine but never got a call before.

The cordless phone suddenly rang. It startled him. Pete reached for the phone and flipped some switches to couple the line with the transmitter.

"Uh, hello?"

"Is this the Ever Pop'lar Pete White," a gruff voice with a heavy Texas accent asked.

"You've got White and you're on the air. What can I do for you, caller?"

"Oh man, that's awesome," the voice drawled, " I'm restin' at a truck stop just outside Pueblo. I drive the Juarez to Saskatoon  run and I always scan my radio for your signal when I'm passing through Colorado on I-25. Tell all my friends to listen, too."

"You play them songs that remind me of high school. Y'know just 'cause I'm a trucker doesn't mean I can't like the New Wave. Driving a big rig don't mean I'm required to like country music or...or…or...CW McCall. I hate that shee-it. That is a rank ster-eo-type. Oh, sorry. Can I cuss on the air?"

"Do whatever you want, pally. This is PIRATE AIR. No rules."

"Damn straight. Anyway, truckers can like electro pop."

"Right on."

"Duran Duran really takes me back. Some of the other stuff you play, well...it's kinda faggoty."

Pete winced. Things were going so well up to this point.

"But it's really the stuff you were saying, about invaders and protecting what's ours? It just speaks to me, man. I feel the same damn way. I wanna send y'all some tokens of my appreciation."

"Stay on the line, caller and we'll take it off air. For the rest of the White Nation out there listening, here comes Orchestral Manoeuvers in the Dark."

He dropped the needle on the 45, faded in the record and switched the caller to a private phone call.

"Still there, caller?"

"Yeah, but I gotta get back on the road. Lemme get that PO Box you said on the air. I wanna send y'all stuff you might find purty interesting."

III. HAVING FUN ISN'T HARD WHEN YOU'VE GOT A LIBRARY CARD

"Alischon!" Billy said, so startled he toppled a stack of returns he was scanning into the computer as soon as he spotted her approaching the checkout desk of the North Mesa Junction Branch Library.

"I finally learned how t' read so I thought I'd celebrate by getting me a library card," Alison belted far too loudly in her best hillbilly-moron voice.

"I'll take care of this patron, Mrs. Schebeliusch," Billy cut off one of the senior librarians circling behind him. 

"The tables have turned. A real reversal of fortune we got going on, Cherry 2000 " Alison pointed out, looking up at him for the first time as he lorded over the checkout desk while standing on a kik-step stool.

"Now you're in my world and the advantage is mine," Billy pronounced nefariously but at library-appropriate volume, robbing it of impact, "Eh, I'm not great at supervillain patter."

"Too much of a hero, right?"

"I'd like to be a good guy but I'm more of a neutral guy. I don't do enough to be good or evil."

"Making some brownies later?" Alison nudged Billy's oven mitt. 

"My hand sets off the bar-code reader," Billy explained, waving his mitt at the infrared checkout desk wand,  "I have to insulate it or the computer thinks someone's checking out 10,000 copies of The Bridges of Madison County.

He hopped off his stool and momentarily disappeared behind the desk to retrieve "new library card" paperwork. He walked Alison over to a side table and set out the forms for her to sign as he stuck a barcode sticker onto a card-blank. 

"I hate working at the front desk. I'm usually in the back." he explained as she filled out her contact info, "I sort the returns and inter-library loans."

"And the bandage?" Alison tapped a square of gauze taped over Billy's right eye with her pen.

"When I applied for this job I thought it seemed less depressing to make it look like something that could get better. I told the head librarian it was a T-ball injury."

"More hopeful," Alison nodded with appreciation.

"But I've been working here for four years and no one's questioned why it's still wrapped up. Maybe they think I'm accident prone in a very specific way and keep re-injuring it."

"Had your cornea bisected by a spat watermelon seed's errant trajectory?" suggested Alison.

"Exactly. Or targeted by a random rogue owl attack. Every day it's something else," Billy agreed to the strategy, "But people only ask about it if I'm at the check out desk, that's why I prefer to stay in the back."

"You're probably not much help at reshelving books, huh?" she stated the obvious, "Or do you only do the children's section."

"Goddammit," Billy scowled, "Why does everyone just pick on me constantly."

"Because you look hilarious when you're furious?"

Billy scowled even more. Alison lit up. "See?"

Billy released a breath and shook his head. It was just his lot in life.

Pete's arguments cycled in his brain, Billy hated himself for even asking, "You're not friends with me just to make fun of me, are you?"

"No, I'm friends with you because you're so goddamned sexy," Alison said completely deadpan with a blank expression.

"More jokes," Billy looked crestfallen. White might have had a point.

"Hilarious when angry. Adorable when hurt," Alison repeated while gesturing into the air like it was an advertising slogan. 

Billy was still mad, but couldn't fight breaking into a big stupid grin.

"And you're cute when you smile, too. You look like a Boston Terrier." 

Billy's ears blushed pink. She stuck out her tongue and flipped him the bird.

"Now, point me to the smut section, I'm gonna check me out ALL them Harlequin Romances. Woof!"

IV. EDUCATING ALISON

A week later at Video Madness, something seemed off.

Just going through the motions, Alison took Billy’s tapes (M, Malice and They Live!), scanned their barcodes and passed them back without eye contact

“No insulting nickname today?” Billy mocked, “No ‘Conan O’Brien?’ No ‘Judas Iscariot?’”

“Like from the Bible? Judas had red hair?” Alison asked vacantly.

“In some other cultural traditions,” Billy shrugged, “Shakespeare says he did. Medieval Jewish stereotypes are always red-haired and— are you OK?”

Alison had a thousand yard stare. “Oh, sorry I just…” Alison seemed to deflate, “I found out I might not graduate. I’m failing too many classes and I’m gonna get held back.”

“What classes?”

“Chemistry. Trig-B. AP US History,” Alison listed.

“Why are you taking an AP if you’re such a dumbass?”

Alison shrugged.

“I can tutor you,” Billy declared.

“As if. You’re just a little kid!”

“I’m a ‘little kid ’ with a high school diploma offering to help you get yours,” Billy snapped.

📼 – 📼 - 📼

Back in the stockroom, Alison perched on a shelf next to a pile of returned tapes while Billy skimmed her Chem test papers, wincing at the grades – 75%. 59%. 11%!

“Eleven percent? How did you get 11%? You get ten points automatically just for spelling your own name right.”

“I dunno,” Alison muttered, pushing another returned tape into the VHS rewinder.

“Are you failing because you don’t understand the material or you just don’t care?”

“I don’t really study.”

“Obviously,” Billy rolled his eye, “But can you cram enough to pass a make-up test or do you need to learn the material first.”

“I don’t know,” Alison said, embarrassed. She didn’t like this power dynamic at all. She was the one who made him uncomfortable, not the other way ‘round. Billy was hit suddenly by how young she looked, like a naughty kid told to sit in the corner.

“It’s been like ten years since I took high school Chemistry. Hand me your textbook,” Billy reached out behind him.

Alison fished it out her backpack and placed it in Billy’s metal hand. In one sweeping gesture, Billy pulled it forward and flopped it open one-handed. He traced his finger down the lines of text speed-reading, flipping the page every few seconds while his other hand mechanically filled a piece of paper with notes in precise tiny handwriting. He finished the book in a minute and a half.

He did the same with the Trigonometry and US History tests and textbooks. Each process took about five minutes from beginning to end: reading the test questions, skimming the text and  breaking down the material into an outline with appropriate sections flagged and noted.

“Jeeze,” Alison sighed, “I guess you really are a boy genius.”

“This is nothing. You should have seen me when I still had both eyes,” Billy boasted, “I could summarize and write breakdowns on two books at the same time.”

“Um… why do you have only one eye?” Alison asked tenuously. He brought it up first so it didn’t seem completely rude to ask.

“A Mexican rottweiler ate it because I shouted trivia at him,” Billy said dismissively, going over his notes.

Alison was too confused to even ask if that was a joke.  

“I can make 100 test prep lists with my eye closed, but if you don’t actually study you’re still going to fail. Are you actually going to make an effort?”

“Oh god, yes,” Alison assured him, “If it means I get to the hell out of school by June, I’d walk through a river of liquid shit naked.”

Billy tried not to dwell on the visual,  “No one’s asking you to do that,” Billy said haltingly, “Just… study, please.”

Alison crossed her heart with her fingers and held up three fingers in a mangled scout’s salute.

“When are your make-up tests?” Billy asked. Alison showed him her schedule. Billy made an outline for what sections to re-read and what to memorize for each test. They made plans to meet during her lunch break next week to do a review and take a practice test.

“Or you could just take my tests for me,” Alison suggested.

“I don’t have the right color wig to pass as you,” Billy said, “Or tall enough platform shoes.”

“Why do you bother even helping me when I’m nothing but mean to you?”

“We’re friends, right?" Billy said, closing the textbook and meeting her eyes, "I know you don’t mean anything by those names anyway.”

“Yeah, it’s just teasing,” Alison admitted without actually apologizing, “I’m only a massive jerk to people I really like.”

Billy's heart lurched.

V. PETE DROPS SCIENCE

“Alischon’s taking me to a show as a thank you for helping her pass her make-up tests,” Billy panicked, “What do I do?”

Pete grumbled, not looking up from the paperback of None Dare Call It Conspiracy that had come in the mail the day before.

“Please, White,” Billy pleaded, “Help me.”

Pete still had reservations about this girl jerking his best friend around, but Billy never asked him for help. It was so rare Pete knew more about anything and got to play older brother and explain how life works.

“You’ve never been to see a band?" Pete asked in disbelief, "Not ever?"

Billy shook his head. No.

Pete cracked his knuckles. By the time he was Billy’s age he’d been to about 8,000 rock shows. He went to even more when he worked at a radio station and was “on the list” to “scout bands.” Free tickets, drinking all night on the company account and makin’ it with sweaty girl bassists sticky with Aqua-Net on top of filthy bar bathroom sinks. Funny how unlimited access to cocaine and the man who could get them played on the radio made him irresistible to women. He never had it so good since.

He got lost in the memory until he noticed Billy looking up at him making puppy-dog-eyes, begging White to save him from doing something lame in front of a girl.

“Number one, never wear the band’s shirt to their concert.”

“Band shirts don’t fit me. They only come in XL. It’d be like wearing a dress.”

“And don’t buy a shirt from the merch stand and then put it on at the concert, especially not over a collared shirt. Absolute massive douche move.”

“These are all local bands so I don’t think any of them even have t-shirts. Any non-shirt related advice?”

“Ok, take these,” he pressed a small plastic snap-top container into his hand.

“What is this? Is it condoms? Are you giving me condoms?”

“Slow your roll, Casanova. It’s earplugs. Brand new pack.” Billy popped the gumball-sized case; six little silicone T-shaped blobs inside stared back at him.

“Find a spot towards the front but not closer than three people in, OK? Not in the direct path of any amps or speakers. Make sure you can see the exit, too.”

Billy wrote his advice down on a square of graph paper. Still a quizboy. What a dweeb. Totally uncool.  White rolled his eyes, but kept going.

“Offer her the earplugs first. It shows you’re thinking of her and you’re a gentleman . Then put yours in as the band first comes out. Just pinch and push them in with the big end facing out.”

Billy knew nothing should go in your ear that was smaller than your elbow but he also picked his nose with a metal finger until it bled so silicone earplugs seemed fine.

“They’re one-size fits all, but they’re designed for human ears. They oughta work in those stuck-on-sideways radar dishes on your head.”

Billy was too nervous to start a fight over baseline insults.

“If a mosh pit forms, move back but don’t surrender too much territory. Or, hell, jump in. Work off some of that anxiety. Just don’t clock anyone with the metal hand – lawsuit.  Head butts are enough. You’d be really good at those.”

Billy nodded and walked off. White called after him, “And don’t attempt to crowd surf— they will drop you.”

to be continued...

*Billy is a huge nerd but even he doesn't throw around "whom" rhetorically even if it is grammatically correct.

_____ ← back to part one | → on to part three | read on archive of our own

→ ask story/character questions here→ see all Billy & White posts

I didn’t even remember Ally Sheedy’s character was named “Allison” in The Breakfast Club (1985) until rewatching this clip. I just think of her as “Ally Sheedy in Breakfast Club."

Pete’s Radio Show Names

White Noise 

Pale Shelter 

Unto Whited Sepulchres (via Matthew 23:27) 

"Got my Wild Cherry [Diet Pepsi] and I got my Black Jack gum” - Pump Up The Volume (1990)

HAVING FUN ISN'T HARD WHEN YOU'VE GOT A LIBRARY CARD this "music video" was aired constantly on PBS. Almost unavoidable. It bores into your brain.

Torn between what line want to hear Billy say more: "Sass, Class or Ass" or "Det. Sipowicz"

[anaknglard]

I'm drunk.

To celebrate my birthday.

I'm 19 now, damn, I feel so old now... I mean I can drink legally! I can go clubbing! I can...

Do things.

This reminds me of when I first went clubbing in pinas. I remember getting so shitfaced all I knew how to say was "I miss ****"... the security even told me to shut the fuck up.

I don't blame them.

I remember thinking after that... if ever I were to get drunk with you or go clubbing with you, I'd always be by your side.

Alot of the stereotypes of being drunk is that you'd become flirty with other men. Fuck that. If anything, I'd get even more affectionate towards you. I imagined that, that day. I imagined that on my birthday, we'd go to a bar together, or a club. I'd buy you earplugs because Lord knows how much your hearing is declining. We'd drink, get drunk, and make out on the dance floor.

Haha.... maybe I'm too delusional now.

I understand why a lot of people develop addictions to this now.

It numbs the pain. It makes you forget everything and just holds you in limbo til you wake up the next morning. A throbbing, stabbing pain in your head that serves as a harrowing reminder that your problems are still in your life.

I get it. Maybe that's what I've been doing the past couple of weeks.

Trying to forget.

That's all I've known, haven't I? I mean, come on. Trust. Every single time you reminisce, it kills you. It brings you pain that that person isn't there with you anymore.

but that's okay.

You've been telling yourself that, right?

Maybe if you say it enough times it'll come to fruition.

And fuck all, I know for a fact in writing this you're reminiscing. Hell, I know that you're reminiscing about that one time you and him spent time at your dorm.

Stop it.

It hurts, doesn't it?

Fuck.

When I'm alone, I've always considered myself to have two personalities. Not separate enough for a mental illness, but separate enough for me to rationalize them both.

I'm writing this in the serious, blunt personality one. The other one is much more childish and playful. A hopeless romantic. A delusional one.

In real life, I'd like to say I'm a great blend of both. A dash of delusion, anxiety and cynicism, but a big helping of enthusiasm, eagerness and love.

Love.

Damn, didn't think 4 letters could twist my throat in ways I could never imagine. I can't even find myself swallowing my saliva now, the 4 letters finding itself to be too large to swallow.

Love... huh?

I'm... drunk.

I like it that way.

I remember the time I held you at the bus stop, telling you that I'd do anything to have you again. I'd do everything.

I still would.

That's my blunt self talking.

Not the delusional one. Although I know alot of your friends call you that too. Alot of mine do as well.

I don't give a fuck.

Whether it be the delusional or the blunt one, both of us are set on something.

The blunt one less enthusiastic about it, since it takes into account all the pain that we've been through.

It's okay, though.

That's what makes us so similar, you and I.

Yes, you and I.

We've gone through alot for the people we love. And we are willing to go through alot for the people that we love. That's just innate, isn't it?

But every single time... it just hurts even more. When will it be enough? When will the pain stop..

And love start?

Is it a love for each other? A love for ourselves?

Maybe both is needed.

This fucking doesn't make any sense.

Fuck.

You swear alot when you're drunk, huh?

Not you.

Me.

Fuck.

One small part of me wishes that you'll wish me a happy birthday when my birthday comes this Tuesday. I don't plan on telling anyone it's my birthday because I hate celebrating my birthday. It's so awkward when people wish me happy birthday out of nowhere. I hate when there are days just dedicated to me. Let me just live. Alone. I'm working on my birthday though. Ugh.

But I don't mind birthday wishes if they're from you.

I don't mind anything, if its from you.

Shut the fuck up.

Fuck you.

No, I'm saying that to myself. Not you.

I don't know what to say.

It's 12:30 am on a school night and I am sitting in front of my finished lab report, exhausted.

I dread looking at your social media.

I dread seeing anything that suggests that you might be seeing someone else.

Last time I did that... God.

I can't think about it now.

I'm always going to be here for you.

If your heart aches, let me be the one to cradle it.

If your mind is tired, let me be the bed in which it relaxes.

If the world lets you down, let me be the hand to pick you back up.

If everyone seems to be against you, let me be your sole ally to go against them with you.

It's us... against the world.

Shut the fuck up. You drunk, poetic, clingy fuck.

I typed cringy but it autocorrected to clingy. That's correct too.

Who knew a message about a cafe date would turn out this way?

I don't give a fuck what anyone says anymore.

I need to sleep.

Sleep helps me delude even more.

Maybe I'll dream of you. I've been dreaming of you consistently over the past few weeks.

In what context?

Me holding you. Me coming over to your house and watching RuPauls Drag Race together. Us having a cafe date. Us walking the same path I used to follow on February 14, but in a softer, much more gentle loving context.

I'd hug you, and I'd nuzzle my head into your neck. Your cheek brushes against my hair.

"A bit scratchy, but you love it".

And even though smell doesn't exist in dreams, I'd smell so hard that pinch of your value village smell comes through.

I always referred to value village as being home-like.

You smell like home.

You feel like home.

Your face... with them pimples. Hahaahahahhahaha.

But I love it.

And I love you.

Ain't no fuckign way I just shed a tear typing that last shit out.

But I mean it.

Fuck.

Imma cry.

Fuck this.

Drunk and crying?

Fuck.

I love you.

I miss you.

And I'd do alot to get you back in my arms again. (From my last diary entry.)

Til next time, my love.

Formerly,

your Nick.

[gopissbepis]

not doing so good today

this week was just long and tough and being a parent is not easy on your own - I can't be the friend and the villain, I can't be the one to punish her and comfort her and I feel like she's hating me for trying to help her become a good all round human being...I hate saying no but I know I've gotta. Tash and Boo have both said I need to have more of a back bone with her but I want her to be happy, she hates people being upset with her she will just cry :( and I'd rather compromise than straight up tell her what to do -but sometimes I know it's just gotta be a no and it's my responsibility as a parent to make that clear so that she learns to be independent but I'm so bad at setting and keeping boundaries even with my own child ffs. For the most part I am a good parent (I really do think I give her my all and do whatever I can to make sure she's happy and living a full life and being able to take every opportunity that she wants to) but I've focussed too much on us being a team that I've not rly established the whole parent/child dynamic. Fuck I hate responsibility. But I love her too much to let her grow up with no discipline.

Works just....ugh I don't even know I've just lost all enthusiasm for working there and the people are starting to do my head in cos they're so fucking square and bitchy I'm just over it and ready to leave now...4 more weeks.

I just feel rly alone. I know I'm not I've got so many amazing people in my life that I appreciate so much but day to day it's just me and I'm struggling to get back on track with doing everything alone again.

I've got big plans and I know I've got to step up and be the best version of myself now - but I feel like I'm not, at all... I'm trying, but I'm not doing well enough with any of it and that's just a shit feeling... I know I'm not gonna get all the way there all at once but I've put in my all and it's still not enough and idk how I'm gonna sustain this level of persistence let alone increase it when things really get going. Idk idk I need to be more but this is all that I am. How tf

Going on retreat again next month so hopefully that'll help me find some peace and clarity - a little break for my brain to stop doing and focus on healing for a minute, then maybe I can find some solutions.