#if she took me fishing she had to be the one hooking the bait on my gear

[selamat-linting]

so anyway, there used to be this girl staying in one of the rooms our neighbor rented. lets call her F. one day F had to move and instead she stayed at my old house. i was too young for my mom to explain why but over the years i managed to connect the dots on my own. she got pregnant out of wedlock, her mom doesnt approve of her relationship and its not like the guy is eager on taking responsibility anyway. abortion is illegal here. and i guess somewhere along the way she had to lose her job?

anyway, F was living at my mom's place for a few weeks. i was a severe insomniac even as a kid and its nice to have someone to play with when i couldnt sleep. we watched animal documentaries and she taught me how to play board games like monopoly. during those days, she liked to talk about her siblings. especially this one girl who is a bit younger than me. F said she was a tomboy, and has always been a good, easy kid even in the womb. you see, when her mom was pregnant with her sister, they went through some marital problems that forced her mom to start working again. F was grateful her sister didnt make her mom sick so much and she was never a particularly fussy baby.

one day, F gathered the courage to see her mom again. she took me to her house. we met her little sister. at first i thought she was a boy, until i saw that she's wearing a necklace. it was the girl F liked to talk about. and she told me to play with her sister.

so we set off. this girl, lets call her C, she told me all of her favorite play spots. we walked around the fish market by the sea, we played in this park that used to be an old training ground for the military, it was amazing. i was ten or eleven years old at the time, and i thought C was the coolest girl alive. she could walk through an obstacle course without struggling, she knows how to fish, and she went on adventures almost every day. all i had going for me was that im good at browsing the internet and playing video games.

i wondered why C didnt have other kids waiting right by the door just to play with her. she was nice. definitely nicer than the ones i see at school. but then when we're in the middle of walking back, a bunch of kids saw us together and they start calling us a lesbian. C's cheery demeanor drops a bit and when i turned my head, she told me to just keep walking and ignore them. i remember feeling like i had to say something but i just didnt know what. years later, i think i know what kid me wanted to say, but by then it was too late.

anyway, we played again some more, and went back to her house. i promised next time we see each other its gonna be my turn to show her my stomping grounds (the internet). i ate dinner at their place, and F gave me a ride home. that was the last time i ever saw her.

okay no, not really. we met again. F decide to send the baby up for adoption to a relative of her ex-boyfriend. it was really sad. she couldnt stop crying. but after that, she seems to recover. at least she got herself a new job, a new place to stay, and the problem was over. on eid, she brought C at my house. yeah, C wore boy clothes on eid too. i was a bit envious of her ngl. we went on an arcade, met a kid who beg on the road outside the mall and she spent such a long time talking with them. i think C almost cried. she was a good kid. And then we played with toy guns, and C pranked a woman walking besides us by whistling at her. it was kinda mean ngl.

but thats it. there's no grand resolution. or any answer if F get to see her baby again one day. i went to middle school and liked another girl. F's visit got rarer and rarer and eventually become none as my mom moved out of our old house. with her gone, so as my continued friendship with C. we dont really have personal phone numbers as a kid and i cant find her on facebook.

when i was working at my first job, whenever i get terribly lonely, i'd get on a bus and stop around the fish market we used to hang out at. i walked by the bridge where she used to fish, near a row of stilt houses perched on top of the sea. it was almost like a pilgrimage. i hoped i'll came across C while walking around, or that i'll remember the way to get to her house. no such luck. pretty sure i'll never see her again, but i do wish her well. who knows man, maybe she'll taught me how to fish for the first time. i might know fish facts but i dont know shit about catching them.

[justsescape]

[Since I'm sick, how about a throwback drabble?]

“Oh, so that’s what you like, anon?“

Your soul sunk through the floor; it’s too bad your body couldn’t follow suit. There was no getting around it. Your hand was trembling far too much to click away from the breast expansion sequence on your computer screen. “Wouldn’t her back break with giant jugs like those?” Misato leaned over your shoulder. You couldn’t bear to face her, but you heard the cheshire cat grin in her voice nonetheless. “Honestly, you are so weird, nonnie...”

You thought you felt her hand on your shoulder – like that of a teacher comforting you over a failed test. But what slipped into your peripheral vision removed all doubt of what she was doing. There it was, an erect nipple tenting against her black shirt with every intention of piercing the threads. One of her heaving tits was draping itself over your shoulder like a sash. “Though you know, anon,” she continued, leaning even further forward, “I suppose it is normal to like huuuuge boobs...” Her voice trailed off, but her rack certainly didn’t. More and more of her breast was creeping down your collarbone and toward your ribcage. But it wasn’t just gradually descending; her flesh was also bulging against your neck like a pillow you might wear on an airplane. If you were sweating before, you were drenched now.

“Oh, whoops! Sorry about that,” Misato feigned, groping at the underside of her overgrown boob and hoisting it up. You felt her supple skin rub against your neck and chin. “I’m still getting used to… all this~”

The captain’s heels tapped on the floor as she took to a stand, and your gaze was reeled in behind her like a fish hooked on bait. Just a moment ago, you couldn’t bear to look her in the eye… and nothing had changed now. Why look her in the face? A bust as big as hers demanded your attention, and Misato was cupping them in her hands like she was volunteering them for show-and-tell. She was far, far bigger than ever before. Bowling balls would surely be envious of their size and their weight alike, but the way they plunged in her shirt was almost more breathtaking than if they were simply round – though, they were getting close to that shape as the captain presented them like she was lifting watermelons.

“Soooo yeah, I may have snooped on your PC,” Misato giggled. She let one of her breasts fall (and jiggle) against her torso to reach into her jacket pocket. After a bit of rustling, she produced an empty vial. “And I have privileged access at work, so... you know the rest! It’s not the most powerful dose so it’s very gradual, but I’ll be growing and growing for hours~”

Misato released her other boob from her grasp and then plunked the container into her cleavage. “Won’t need this anymore,” she teased – and with two fingers, she pressed the vial down until it nearly disappeared. Fortunately, her cleavage eagerly did the rest; that dark, deep line lengthened and swallowed it up like it had fallen into quicksand. “Ooh, they’re hungry~!” Misato’s boisterous laugh only served to make her colossal boobs sway to and fro. “Hope you enjoyed that little display, ano-... whoa, what? Something’s... there’s something else in there?” Misato dove wrist-deep between her breasts, sifted around for a moment, and then... she slowly fished a bra strap out. The cups following behind it were impressive in their own right, but they had been practically maimed. Perhaps this is what her shirt would look like once her nipples reached their goal.

"Oh, I almost forgot that I was wearing this before I started blimping up," she mused, letting it dangle from her hand like a recently caught trout. "I must have had it since college, and now it's all broken and worthless... guess I'll need to get resized and refitted..."

You couldn’t ignore her eyes anymore. They looked at you in the same way a supervillain looks at a hero imprisoned in their lair. “And I know just the person who can help me with that~...” A broken bra in one hand, and an unspooling measuring tape in the other; Misato sauntered toward you, her unsupported rack swaying back and forth like the swings on a swing set. Forget bowling balls; they were rivaling beach balls now, and her shirt was paying the ultimate price. Holes peppered the fabric and revealed bulging, creamy skin underneath. Her midriff would have also clearly been visible if not for her gigantic bust obscuring it. It wouldn’t be much longer until you wouldn’t even be able to see her thighs.

"If you promise me that I'm the only big boobed woman you'll chase, maybe I'll have a little fun and give the breast expansion formula to all the girls at work too!” The measuring tape dragged across the ground behind her. Every passing moment rendered it more and more ill equipped for the task. All you could hear was her voice – and your heartbeat pounding in your ears. She stopped in front of your chair, her head now fully hidden behind the expanse of her underboob. If you rose your head only a few more inches, her tits could envelop you completely. “Just promise me that you won't try any funny business with them, ‘kay? Now get to work, anon! These honkers won’t measure themselves~!”

[siderealscribblings]

99 Years, 6 Months, 13 Days

It took Furina roughly an hour to get dressed every morning and roughly thirty seconds to get naked after her bedroom door was closed. 

Her shoes landed in a basket near the closet for her melusine housekeepers to sort out in the morning. Her jacket landed on a peg on the dresser (much to her satisfaction) and her white ruffled blouse landed next to her shorts in the hamper. She had been in three layers all day as an uncanny heatwave descended on the capitol and she was in dire need of a wash and a change of clothes before Neuvillette returned home. 

With each shed scrap of cloth, she could feel the weight of her duties slide off her shoulders until she was humming under her breath as she slid under the spray of a piping hot shower. She couldn't resist groaning as warm water rolled over her aching shoulders, washing away a day that consisted of eighteen exhausting appointments without so much as a madeleine to nibble on in-between.

By lunch she was feeling absolutely despondent, exacerbated by the fact that Neuvillette was tied up in litigation and couldn't eat with her as had become their custom. Furina had allowed herself a three minute sniffle-fest in the coat cupboard before pulling herself together and pulling through the rest of her day with as much grit and faux-determination as she could muster. But now that the day was done, she allowed herself to indulge in a long shower and watch the sunset through the window overlooking the lake. 

I guess I have a lot to be grateful for, Furina thought, closing her eyes as she traced her fingers through her hair. It didn't always feel that way; not when so much rested on every word she spoke and every slight gesture. Not when the one thing she really craved continued to dance tantalizingly out of reach. 

"Furina?" Furina snapped out of her trance as she heard a soft knock and her name called through the door. 

"I'm finishing up!" Furina called back, switching the shower off and shaking her hair out. "Go ahead and get started without me!" 

Furina dripped on the carpet as she perused her wardrobe for something to wear for the evening, settling on a pair of calf-length cotton bloomers and a half-buttoned sleeveless top. It was nothing racy by any stretch of the imagination, but it was certainly more skin than she had shown Neuvillette in previous years. The memory of pure, pulsing Hydro energy snaking over every inch of her naked skin never failed to make her shudder; after being caressed in such an intensely intimate way, she felt no shame in being less than fully clothed around him.  

Furina considered her selection of bras, chewing on her lower lip for a moment before tucking them back in her wardrobe and slipping the top over her head. Three buttons held the top of her blouse together; two weeks ago, she stopped buttoning at two. Today, she stopped at one, watching her pale skin flush with warmth beneath the collar as she tugged it open just a little. Just far enough that someone might accidentally catch a peek if she were to accidentally lean too far one way or the other.  

One couldn't be hasty when trying to catch a prize fish, but one also had to properly bait the hook.

Read More...

[total-lost-boys-simp]

Water Might be Thicker Than Blood

TLB!Poly! x Fem Reader

Chapter 4

Chapter 3 / Chapter 5

The obnoxious warm beams of the sun forced their way through the thick patterned curtains. “Ngh…what time is it?” (Y/N) asked herself as she sat up in her bed. Her bed? When did she come home last night? She just remembers the boys & her brother going out and them never coming back, but nothing about going home.

Looking down at her bedside table (Y/N) picked up the little analog alarm clock. Squinting her still tired eyes she saw the big and little hands telling her it was seven thirty-three. “God, why is it so early?” (Y/N) asked herself as she put the clock down and headed down to the kitchen. 

She had narrowly missed her mom heading off to work as she heard her pull out of the dirt driveway. “Well that’s one lecture avoided for now,” (Y/N) muttered as she opened the fridge. (Y/N) felt her life flash before her eyes when a voice jumped out from behind, “What’u doin’ up so early?” 

“Jesus, grandpa!” (Y/N) exclaimed as she whipped around. 

“Better not be goin’ through any of my root beers & oreos, ya hear?” Grandpa aggressively pointed his finger at the still open fridge.

“I don’t plan on it, just gonna make some breakfast. Do you want any?” (Y/N) queried as she rummaged through the fridge. 

“Nah that’s all you kiddo, I’m goin’ back to my handy work,” grandpa laughed as he walked to his taxidermy room.

“...Okay then, bacon & eggs for one it is then.”

After breakfast (Y/N) spent some time basking in the vibrant warm glow of the daylight while reading a book in the sun room at the front of the house. She still couldn’t believe how different her life had become in just a short couple of days. Going from having no one but her mom & brothers to have six new, exciting, adventurous and untroubled people in her life. As she was thinking about the changes she started thinking more about the boys and how they were kind of…hot? With their leather clad looks and wind catching bikes. They just lure you in with their standout features and wild personalities. At least they lured (Y/N), like a naive little fish to a worm on a hook…Or maybe she’s the one luring them? No, she’s definitely the one that took the bait…especially as she thought of everytime their briskly cold fingers grazed her body. It was like nothing she had ever felt before. 

(Y/N) was so lost in her thoughts about the boys that she hadn’t even noticed her brothers whining at each other upstairs. What is it this time, she thought as she stood up going towards the stairs. “What’s going on up there?” She shouted from the base of the staircase. “Mom’s on the phone!” Sam shouted. (Y/N) walked up just to see what her brother’s were getting up to. “Uh yeah…hey mom, (Y/N)’s here…you should talk to her too,” Michael suggested with a smirk on his face extending the phone to (Y/N). His sister just knew he was too hungover from last night to talk to their mom…why else would he be wearing sunglasses inside? She snatched the phone out of his hands before flipping him off and walking a foot or so away. 

“Oh hey mom…what’s up?” (Y/N) asked, cautious about what’s to come. 

“Hi sweetie, I was just telling you brother that I’d like the two of you to watch Sam while I’m out tonight,” Her mom’s sweet and soft voice sounded fuzzy over the landline. 

“Well I was kind of hoping to go meet up with some friends…” (Y/N) demurred.

“(Y/N) you know how it’s been, I’d just like to have a night for me. Could you two please just watch your brother?” 

“But mom-” 

“(Y/N), you and Michael can’t just be going out all night whenever you want, I already told your brother all of this. I’d just like to be the one going out tonight,”

(Y/N) sighed, “Yeah of course mom. Stay safe tonight, okay?”

“Of course sweetie, I’ll be a phone call away.” 

“Alright, love you…bye,” (Y/N) said as she hung up the phone and handed it back to Michael. 

“I’m going back down stairs, no one talk to me for the foreseeable future,” (Y/N) huffed as she stomped down the stairs. She was just so frustrated. Sam is a teenager at this point, he can be by himself! Why should (Y/N) have to stay cooped up in here keeping an eye on him? This girl just wants to use up what little bits of freedom she has left for the summer before she has to go back to college courses and part time job hunting. It’s not that she’s upset with her mom, she’s just upset that her mom told her to stay with Sam as if he were still a baby. 

Day turned to night as (Y/N) disgruntledly went back to her book and calmed herself down. At this point the sun had already set and the radiant moonlight seeped into the glass room she was resting in. Barely realizing what time it was (Y/N) looked up from her provocative page and saw the wind picking up, forcing trees to lean their way back and wind chimes ready to take flight. “I haven’t eaten since like 8am…,” she mumbled to herself as she got up and walked to the kitchen where her brother was. 

“Hey, want a sandwich, I’m making some for me and Mike,” Sam asked. 

“Yeah sure,” his sister sighed as she leaned on the table. 

“Still upset?” Sam questioned as he pulled out the bread. 

“No, just annoyed now.” 

“Yeah of course you are,” Sam snickered. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Before (Y/N) could get an answer Grandpa came rushing in harshly setting a couple things on the counter as he asked, “Hey anything around here that might pass for uh- a aftershave?” 

Sam started looking around before reaching and saying,”How bout some Windex, Grandpa?” he suggested, sniffing the bottle. Oh my god, this is ridiculous (Y/N) thought as she watched this ludicrous scene play out in front of her. “Yeah yeah, let me get some of that, huh?” Grandpa said as he hastily walked towards Sam. Grandpa let out a weird, “Yeahhh…” before rubbing a few spritzes of windex on his face, causing Sam to let out a laugh. As this was happening, Michael sauntered into the kitchen asking, “You got a big date tonight, Grandpa?”  

“Yeah hahaha,” Grandpa let out as he walked over to the counter past Michael, “Just gonna drop by some of my handiwork to the widow Johnson.”

“What you stuff for her, Mr. Johnson?” Michael mocked with a smirk. 

“That wasn’t funny Mike!” Sam exclaimed as ‘La Cucaracha’ honked outside. 

“Yeah, maybe get off your high horse and be respectful a bit?” (Y/N) suggested as she sat on the kitchen counter. Michael glared at his older sister.

Looking up at his older brother, Sam insisted, “I’m going to make you a sandwich.” to which he responded, “Don’t bother.” (Y/N) watched as her brothers bickered and grew ever so slightly more upset and annoyed with each other. Before she could jump in the three were caught off guard by roaring motorcycles, glaring bright lights and the wind causing everything window to open and clatter. “What the hell?” Michael shouted walking closer to the windows. “What’s causing this?” (Y/N) exclaimed as she hopped off the counter and went into the living room with her brothers. The revving of the bikes was not met with whooping and hollering even a faint calling of an all too familiar domineering platinum haired biker. (Y/N) ran to the front door and flung it open with Michael right behind her and Sam shouting, “(Y/N) what are you doing?! Don’t!” but as soon as they all looked outside things went silent, still, mysterious. 

“What’s going on guys?” Sam asked as Michael closed the door.

“It’s nothing, don't worry Sammy,” (Y/N) tried reassuring her little brother. 

“Go take your bath,” Michael quietly commanded his little brother.

After Sam went upstairs (Y/N) asked, “Michael, what’s going on? Really? Did something happen last night with the boys? Did you get into some kind of trouble?” She followed her brother around expecting an answer. “Leave it alone, (Y/N),” Michael tried hush his sister's interrogation. “No, not until-” she was cut off by her brother whipping around inches away from her saying, “Leave. It. Alone.” Mildly intimidated and extremely annoyed (Y/N) exclaimed, “Fine, whatever! I don’t give a damn anyways,” and stomped upstairs. 

(Y/N) decided now was as good a time as any to try and drift off to sleep while reading her book. It’s something that always helps her when she’s stressed, ever since she was a kid. Flopping down on her bed she heard something clamor to the ground. What was that, she thought as she peered over her mattress. It was a walkman, the same walkman she was using when she was in the cave. While (Y/N) got this warm feeling inside, she also had a rush of chills. So the boys really were here? That revving and shouting and screeching was actually them? But how did they disappear so quickly? How did they get the walkman into (Y/N)’s room on the second floor? Things that probably would make sense at any other time but just didn’t at the moment with all that just happened. “I don’t want to think about this anymore,”she murmured to herself, “I’m not sure I really want to,” putting the headphones on, hitting play and opening her book. 

There was an atmosphere of tranquility in the air for a few minutes letting (Y/N) enjoy her thrilling novel before she heard a rambunctious thud outside her room. “What the hell?” She whispered as she took off the headphones and got out of bed. Walking out into the hallway and to Sam’s door (Y/N) knocked asking, “Sam, is everything okay?” Without an answer Sam launched open the door and pulled his sister into the room. “(Y/N) he’s a vampire, like a real vampire!The one’s in the movies! He wants to drain our blood! He’s going to tear us apart!” Sam shouted nonsense in his older sister’s face. “What are you talking about?” She asked. She didn’t get an answer, instead Sam picked up the phone right when it rang. 

“Hello,” he asked, “Mom, I think we have to have a real long talk about something.” Sam kept going as screaming could be heard from Michael’s bedroom. What the hell, is all (Y/N) could think. “Mom…uh-oh” Sam stammered into the phone, “No,” he paused, “Now we should stay calm,” he paused again, “Oh nothing, nothing,” pause, “Mom, I can’t talk about it over the phone it’s about Michael,” instead of a pause Sam looks past (Y/N) and screamed bloody murder! Thinking this is a prank now (Y/N) looks behind her- NOPE! Her other brother is FLYING OUTSIDE THE DAMN WINDOW. “Holy crap! What is going on?!” (Y/N) shouted as she grabbed onto her not-flying baby brother. Sam kept screaming into the phone and panicking causing their mother to panic as well. 

(Y/N) on the other hand wanted to scream but she just sat there in shock trying to make sense of all of this. She wanted to think rationally, maybe it was a prank her conniving little brothers pulled…Sam’s acting was never that good though. Michael doesn’t look like he’s attached to any rope either. Was her brother really flying? Was he really outside a second story window with nothing preventing him from floating off except a telephone cord? When did this start? How did it start? What’s going to happen? All the questions raced through (Y/N) head as she sat in a silent state of panic while both her brothers went crazy. 

She snapped back to reality once she heard Michael begging for help, “I’m your brother, open the window!” he screamed hysterically. Running to the window (Y/N) opened it immediately pulling her brother through and keeping him grounded. Sam sat on the ground next to his older siblings. In a huff Michael said, “We have to stick together.” To which Sam asked, “What about mom?” (Y/N) looked over at him and said, “Don’t worry, we’ll think of something.” Sam started to panic again, “I don’t know guys, it’s not like getting a D in school or something.” Michael reassured his little brother that he and (Y/N) would figure it out. 

Just as the three of them quieted down their mother came rushing into the house, “Sam?!” She shouted repeatedly running into the house. “Oh Sam are you alright?! You had me scared to death!” Lucy exclaimed, coming up to her son. “He’s fine, mom, he just got frightened by one of his comic books. I’m sorry he called you, I should have checked up on him,” (Y/N) said, putting a hand on her brother’s shoulder. “Yeah, I guess I got a little carried away. That’s all,” Sam said with a shrug.” Oh the look on this poor woman’s face right now…”You got carried away by a comic book?!” oh no. “It was a scary comic, I’m sorry,” Sam was trying his best at least? 

“You know, I just about had it with all three of you! You know that?” Lucy jabbed at two of her kids. They knew better than to talk back, everyone in this room has been in this situation one too many times. Lucy turned her head to the kitchen and walked over asking, “What is this mess?!” she continued, “You spill milk all over the kitchen floor and you don’t bother to clean it up?” picking the white milk carton off the floor. “We didn’t-” (Y/N) was cut off as her mom went on to say, “I can’t believe you people, and the refrigerator door-” Blah blah blah, was all (Y/N) as she tuned her family out. She didn’t want to deal with any of it anymore so she walked up to her room ignoring her mother’s shouts and modest threats of “punishment”. She just knew her mom wouldn’t follow, she never does.

Instead of staying in her room (Y/N) snuck out of the house closely behind Michael. She startled her little brother as her shoes broke dried branches and leaves. Whipping his fluffed brunette curls around, “What- damn it (Y/N) be quiet. What are you doing here?” he asked his sister. “You’re going to get your answers, I’m going to get mine. We’ll see who has better luck,” she proclaimed, causing Michael to roll his eyes. “Fine, get on. I’ll drop you off at the boardwalk.”

Everything was as lively and exciting as it usually was down here. The carnival rides and the illuminating neon lights of the arcades & shops made (Y/N) almost nauseous after the night she had. She walked up and down the boardwalk a couple times without seeing any sign of the boys. Where are they? What else could they be doing right now? She mentally asked herself. Suddenly, a cold breath and smooth voice nipped at her neck behind her saying, “Didn’t expect to see you here.” Snapping around (Y/N) was met with David less than an inch from her face.

 “I came looking for you,” she revealed with uncertainty in her voice. 

“Oh yeah?” the scruffy bleach blonde asked with one eyebrow raised. 

 “Yeah…where are the others? I want to talk to them too,” (Y/N) shakily demanded looking David in the eye.

 “They’re with the bikes, follow me,” David ordered, grabbing (Y/N) by the hand. 

After a short walk to the rest of the group (Y/N) could feel the pit forming in her stomach, scared of what’s to come.

“Hey mama, where’ve you been?!” shouted Paul as he spotted (Y/N) and David. 

“Man, why does David get special treatment but we don’t?” Marko pouted, seeing David and (Y/N) hold hands.

“Stop making her uncomfortable, guys,” Dwayne quieted the two boys up. 

Standing there (Y/N) felt stuck, she was frozen nervous…completely different than how she was just one night ago. She snatched her hand away from David, not realizing he still held onto it. She tried to look anywhere except the boys, her refusal to speak didn’t help the situation.

“Hey, what’s wrong? Are you alright?” asked Marko with what (Y/N) hoped was a look of genuine concern. 

“I- uh yeah, I’m just feeling a little off tonight…” she trailed her words. 

“Why’s that?” David asked, peering down at her as he lit a cigarette. 

“I don’t know…some stuff just happened tonight that made me a little…worried, I guess?”

“Like what? Hope it was nothing too, rev-viting,” Paul snickered as his comment earning him a hard nudge from Dwayne. 

“What? Uh no- Actually. You know what? Sort of, it was crashing and loud, then confusing, then shocking, then mildly frightening and I feel like you all have something to do with it!” (Y/N) shouted waving her hands about emphasizing her frustration. 

“Someone catches on quick,” David huffed out with his smoke. 

“What?” (Y/N) asked.

“Yeah, I thought it’d take her at least a few more days. Like three,” Paul shrugged, grinning down as (Y/N).

“Huh?” was all she could belt out in her confusion.

“Really? I thought a week, maybe more,” Marko chuckled, his stare becoming darker. 

“Just let me-,”(Y/N) couldn’t get another word in among the boys. 

“C’mon, you don’t give the girl enough credit. We all know she’s smarter than that,” David jested to his friends, swinging an arm around the tense girl next to him, “You’ve figured it out by now, haven’t you, (Y/N)?”

“Most likely,” her voice felt small and deaf to her ears. 

“You can say it, don’t be shy,” he assured her, coming up behind her ever so close, enough to just feel his presence as terrorizing as it was right now. He leaned down, his surprisingly warm breath met her ear, “No one will hear you.”

“Oh just stop, you’re vampires,” (Y/N) attested in false confidence, really she was about to barf in her mouth, she was so nervous. “Everything got weird the night you took us to the cave…I kept racking my brain trying to figure out what happened that night that could have made my brother like you. I thought it was something stupid like you lacing our food or the weed making us trip out when we got home. That wasn’t it obviously since Sam was Michael flying too. Then I realized, “Wait, this is only happening to Michael?” then BAM it hit me! The wine wasn’t wine-” Let’s be real no 19-20 sum year olds are going to drink wine to get blasted with friends.

Paul jumped off his bike and up to (Y/N)’s face exclaiming, “We never said it was,” grabbing her waist and bringing her in tight. David pushed the dirty blonde punk off of her, to (Y/N)’s relief, in what could have been a spur of jealousy? No, these guys are staring at this poor girl like she’s table scraps being thrown on the floor for a group of starving caged wolves. Why would they get jealous over who gets to touch her? 

“Anyways,” (Y/N) continued, “you gave him blood, who’s blood? I don’t know but it definitely wasn’t human so it must’ve been one of you. And you know what, I don’t care! I don’t care that you’re angry I figured it out! I don’t care if you feel threatened since I know your secret! I don’t care if you drain every once of blood from my body because after the night I’ve had I don’t care about anything right now! I’m scared, I’m frustrated and I’m just really pissed off! How did I go from having a safe, secure normal life one state over to possibly getting eaten by creatures that shouldn’t even exist!I hardly know any of you, I don’t know how you got to Santa Carla, I don’t know where you’re from, who any of you used to be, how many people you’ve killed!? How could I be so naive!? I just- how did I end up here?!” (Y/N) felt her face heat up as warm salted tears kept streaming down her eyes like a river. With every gasp for air between sobs she could feel the lump in her throat getting larger making it more and more difficult to breathe. (Y/N) didn’t realize just how much anger and heartbreak she had built up in her until now, this was just what pushed her over the edge. She tried wiping away her tears with the hem of her sleeves but every rub of fabric made her eyes itchy. 

(Y/N) didn’t bother looking up once she felt the secure embrace of a leather dressed vampire with his arms wrapped around her upper back and his chin resting on the top of her head, “We don’t want to “eat” you, you don’t have to worry about that, ever,” Dwayne’s smooth voice, comforting, fixed hold and rhythmic “breathing” were enough to keep (Y/N) from choking between hysteric sobs. 

           “Let’s go for a ride,” Marko suggested, resting his hand on (Y/N) shoulder. His sudden touch made the poor girl flinch. That may have been the first time Marko ever experienced heart break in his undead life. “Hey man, she’s scared and on edge, let’s chill,” Paul leaned down and whispered to his short curly fry of a friend. “No, it’s cool, I’m down…sorry Marko,”(Y/N)’s voice was hoarse and slimy from all her crying. 

“So where are we going?” (Y/N) asked as she jumped up and threw her leg over the back of David’s bike. 

“You’ll see,” was David’s only response from the bleach blonde vamp. 

“How can I trust you?” (Y/N) asked again, wrapping her arms around his waist, interlocking her fingers tight. 

 Before speeding off Marko shouted, “You got on the bike didn’t you?!” 

The boys came to a screeching halt causing (Y/N) to thrust her body onto David’s back, “Holy fuck guys, are we here?” she exclaimed, confused by the very sudden stop…why are they at a convenience store? “No, just figured we’d get you something to eat for later,” Paul replied, hopping off his bike. “For later? Why not now? (Y/N) asked, pushing up on David’s shoulders to get off his still hot and revving motorcycle. “Trust us, you don’t want to eat right now,” Paul honestly seems like the only one willing to say any words and also seems like the only one willing to go into the store with the puzzled girl of the group. “You guys need to stop being so vague all the time,” she said before walking in with the sandy blonde biker. 

After getting food and continuing their ride it wasn’t long before the spirited group reached their final destination; a secluded beachfront park. “Hey Paul,” (Y/N) called out. “Yeah?” the sandy blonde shot back. “Were you just messing with me?” the delish girl asked, fidgeting with her jacket. “Wha’ do you mean?” The bronze medallion chain on his jacket glimmered as he turned towards (Y/N). As the group walked on (Y/N) didn’t notice the boys falling back and slowly disappearing one by one. “I mean back at the convenience store when- Paul? Paul, where you- Paul, Marko, David…Dwayne?” The now disconcerted and very perplexed girl was frantically searching for the group she had arrived with. Distant screams rang out just a few yards away. Instantly (Y/N) started chasing the noise, she just knew it had to be them, it had to be the boys…well they had to be the cause. 

What (Y/N) had come across was enough to make anyone throw up the turn tail in fear, but (Y/N)...she couldn’t even move. She felt stuck, like her feet were glued to the grass. Actually, not just her feet, her whole body was frozen solid. It was like if she moved…she’d be next no matter how many times they told her she wouldn’t. “(Y/N)!You made it just in time,” David called out as soon as he saw the petrified girl. He dropped the body, of what looked like a young teenager, onto the ground…a spine tingling crunch could be heard as David needlessly stepped on the kid’s knee cap deforming the body part causing parts of the femur and tibia to peak out amongst torn muscle and flesh. What little blood left in the teen oozed its way out from the injury and the puncture mark on their neck. “Why don’t you come get a closer look,” David announced, raising one of his arms while using the other to wipe blood off of his face. “I…” was all that (Y/N) could muster before the rest of the boys emerged, each doused in rich crimson hemoglobin smothering them from mouth to chest. “(Y/N) it’s alright-” before Dwayne could cautiously continue, “Boo,” Marko whispered in the poor petrified girl's ear. In that very moment she was from pure stone to jelly as she let out a blood curdling shriek and fell to her knees as she tried to run. I’m never going to survive an apocalypse (Y/N) thought to herself. She sat on her knees, hands to her side, head to the sky, her chest rising & falling- lungs gathering as much air as they could. David and the rest of the boys walked up to her, their leader getting down on one knee before grabbing (Y/N) by the chin and pulling her face close. The stench of iron made (Y/N) nose’s burn and eyes water with how strong it was. “You’re cute when you’re scared,” David bit his lip and whispered before shoving the timid girl into the grass and walking away. 

“Are you okay?” Dwayne asked as he and Marko trudged over to the meek girl, Paul following close behind. “I…yeah? But no? I don’t know?” she responded just really upset and confused at this point. “David gets off on eating people and scaring them but we didn’t think he’d do that,” Marko explained as Dwayne and himself helped (Y/N) up. “Yeah...I noticed,” was all she could get out at that moment. Marko threw his jacket around (Y/N)’s shoulders revealing his fit yet not overtly muscular arms. That’s a little surprising, (Y/N) thought as she felt a blush creeping across her cheeks. With a smirk as if he knew what she was thinking, the short curly haired biker asked, “Something on your mind?” Averting her gaze she replied, “Nope, we should get back to the bikes.” 

The three vamps and their frustrated friend walked back in silence. Even when they met up with David…silence. The ride home…silence. Everything about that night became awkward and silent as (Y/N) let it all sink in. 

“Hey, we’re sorry about tonight…It was supposed to be a joke, really,” Paul said as he helped (Y/N) off the bike and to her Grandpa’s front door. “Yeah sure…I’ll see you guys later,” she responded, not even making eye contact before heading inside.

taglist: @sadslasher13 @crowleydeclare @bdudette @sophiaj650 @henhouse-horrors

[dsireland86]

The Things We Could Never Change

Chapter 2 Part 1

****warnings: sexual content and language

If you want to be tagged in the next chapter, let me know :)

tags: @lma1986 @nyxthedestroyerofworlds @missduffsblog @bngurngheart @thatamazingvampirestory @myownthoughts12

NOAH AND SOPHIE HAVE MOVED ON FROM THE PAIN AND FOUND THE BEAUTY THAT COMES THROUGH TRUST AND LOVE.THE PAST IS NEVER REALLY THE PAST AND THE FUTURE IS UNKNOW.THE ONLY THING THEY BELIEVE IN IS THERE'S SOMETHING ABOUT THE OTHER THAT THET'RE SCARED TO LOOSE BECAUSE THEY KNOW THEY'LL NEVER FIND IT IN ANYONE ELSE.MAYBE LOVE REALLY IS THE DEATH OF PEACE OF MIND.

--LINK TO CHAPTER 2 PT.2 AT THE BOTTOM--

Folio:

"I don't think this is the way I'm supposed to bait this hook, Nick! Can you help me, please before I chuck this stupid thing in the water?"

I turned around and couldn't resist laughing. Sophie had the line tangled around the pole with only a few inches of room for the hook and the most distraught look on her face. There was no way teaching her anything today was going to work.

"Here, give it to me," I chuckled, setting my bottle of water down, and taking the pole.

"First," I said, glancing over at her. She was watching my hands, but I could tell she wasn't feeling any of this. I began untangling the line that was tightly secured around my favorite fishing pole, wondering how in the hell she managed to do this. "We're not baiting any hook. They're trout; not bass." I grinned at her, but she just rolled her eyes. 

"Secondly, all of this just takes a little patience, Soph. If you have it, then things will go smoothly. If you don't well, this happens," lifting the pole and shaking my head.

"I'm sorry," she apologized, her countenance falling.

"Hey, don't apologize. I'm just happy you want to spend time with me and at least try to learn." I felt my face redden a little

"You know I love spending time with you, Folio. You're one of my favorite people," she admitted with a shy smile. I felt a pang of jealousy hit my heart.

"I don't freaking know what happened though," shrugging her shoulders. "I was just trying to put a stupid worm on a stupid hook and the stupid pole didn't want to work with me." I looked over and saw how upset she was.

"Wow! Easy killer. It's no biggie. Fixable, see?" I held up the pole in the same condition I had brought it in; perfect. 

Sophie gave a half smile, kissing my cheek before walking away and throwing herself in a camping chair. 

"I have a feeling this isn't just about a fishing pole and bait."

"No," she answered flatly.

"Right, well, I think this calls for something a little stronger," I announced, opening the cooler next to me and retrieving two beers. I cracked one open and handed it to her. She accepted it gratefully, taking a long sip before I even had the chance to open mine.

"Soph, what's going on? You look stressed and exhausted. Is the new medicine not working?"

I brought over another camping chair and sat in front of her, making a statement I was ready for details. She sat back and took another long sip of her beer before placing it in the chair holder.

"I don't think so," shaking her head and fiddling with her thumbs. "I told my doctor, but he said I just needed to give it time. I feel like by the time it does start working I might be past the point of exhaustion and having sleep for dinner instead of food."

"Hey, that's my line."

She grinned at me before rolling her eyes again, propping her legs up on my lap.

"Seriously, though what's wrong?"

She hesitated before speaking.

"Do you know a girl by the name of Sarah?"

Holy fuck. Where did that come from?

Hanging my head, I adjusted my black Harley Davidson hat, trying to think of a way out of this conversation, but failed.

"Um, yeah the name sounds familiar," admitting, knowing I knew a whole lot more than I was letting on.

Here, Sophie leaned forward, resting her arms on her knees. 

"Folio, why didn't you ever tell me Noah had a fiance?"

And there it was; the very thing I was trying to avoid.

"It wasn't my place I guess. You should know by now how private Noah is. He would have killed me if I told you." 

I may have been exaggerating a little, but if I had said anything to Sophie before Noah did, shit would have hit the fan.

"Nick, tell me honestly; should I be worried? Because Noah seemed pretty worked up when he found out."

I took my hat off and ran my hands through my hair, only to put it back on.

"How did Noah find out?" 

As I drank more of my beer, I listened to Sophie explain what happened the other day when Matt called Noah. 

"Who in their right fucking mind would hire her," I yelled, tossing mine and Sophie's empty bottles back in the cooler.

"That's exactly what Noah said. He and Matt are trying to figure it out. They think it might have something to do with the label and someone who works there who knows her."

"Yeah, that sounds like something Sarah would do."

"She's that bad?"

I looked over at Sophie, noticing the worry on her face. 

"If Sarah was still the same as I remember, then yeah, she's that bad if not worse. Did Noah go into any detail about what happened between them?"

Sophie shook her head. 

I went over to her, taking her hands and pulling her up. She was the prettiest thing I'd ever seen and smelled like a summer flower. Noah was a lucky guy and if he did anything to fuck up what he had going with Sophie, I promised myself I would beat the shit out of him. 

I was thankful to have Sophie's friendship at least; most of the time it was enough for me. But deep down, I kept my true feelings for her hidden, knowing how much it would wreck if anyone found out.

"I'm sure he'll tell you when he's ready, Sophie, don't worry," pulling her in for a big hug. "What happened between them was a long time ago. Noah's had plenty of time to heal and move on from Sarah. It'll all be fine."

"And if it's not?", she asked, her head laying against my chest. 

I paused to think about this for a minute. What would happen?

"Then I'll be here to protect you," I answered, full of reassurance. 

Sophie looked up at me that sweet smile but the clouds of distraught were still there. She wasn't convinced by my words and to be honest neither was I.

Noah:

"This is fucking bullshit and you know it," I yelled into the phone at the stupid idiot on the other end. I was beyond pissed by now, having been on the phone most of the day trying to sort out the deliberately fucked up situation that was straining my nerves to their very ends. "I don't fucking care about contracts. Your girl did something wrong, something illegal, and it's going to affect our band in a very bad way. I want it fixed!" I slammed the front door shut, ignoring all the faces turning to look at me as I marched up the steps to my studio, slamming the door closed behind me. "So what you're telling me is that this chick on your end, the label's end, managed to have a contract written up for her friend that would guarantee her a job working with band crew, and it just so fucking happens it's my band she gets sent to? That's not a coincidence and you know it." I pinched the bridge of my nose to alleviate some of the pressure in my head but to no avail. I glanced down at my desk, setting sights on a recent photo of me and Sophie together and a sudden ache of guilt slammed into my heart. I was trying to avoid having to drag her into this fucked up drama with my ex, but was failing miserably. 

"Look, I can't work with this woman. She's a toxic person that I have a horrible history with and having her work with the Bad Omens crew is going to be the worst mistake ever." I paused, giving the asshat on the other end a chance to speak, but all he said was the same thing as before. "My hands are tied Noah, I'm sorry," hanging up the phone and leaving me hanging.  

"Argh, motherfucker," I screamed, rage pulsating through me, almost throwing my phone against the wall. I was fuming with so much anger, that the vein in my neck was bulging, and my jaw was hurting from how hard I'd been grinding my teeth together. 

This was a fucking nightmare; a mess I never asked for. I felt trapped, suffocating as thoughts of my past reared their ugly faces once again, threatening to destroy everything that Sophie and I were building, and suddenly I found myself on my way down of feeling low, losing grip on my mind. I never wanted Sophie to see this side of me; the side that made me feel like a letdown to everyone. I had to tell her; to be honest with her about what we were up against. Sarah was a force to be reckoned with. A fucked up, delusional, human being who knew all too well how to manipulate the right people to get what she wanted. Running my hands through my hair, I took a long, deep breath, realizing I needed a release from the tension that had built up inside me; a strong, decadent release from the emotions and thoughts warring within my mind. A soft knock suddenly came from the other side of the door along with Sophie's sweet voice calling my name, answering my silent plea.

Sophie:

I was almost asleep on Jolly's shoulder when the booming sound of Noah's voice followed by the harsh slamming of the front door, startled me, jerking my eyes wide open. Noah was yelling at someone about a girl, the label, and other inaudible words as he climbed the steps two at a time disappearing into his studio upstairs; the second slamming of a door echoing through the house.

"Holy fuck, what's his deal," Folio bellowed, appearing to be almost asleep himself. 

"One guess," Nick stated without looking up from his book.

"What?" I sat up, wiping the sleep from my eyes.

"What? Noah's been on the phone most of the day with the label, trying to get them to fix the whole mess with Sarah being hired on as crew. I haven't seen him this pissed since,"

"Stop," Jolly interrupted, glaring a Nick with a raised eyebrow,

"I wasn't going there, Jolly. Calm down," Nicholas laughed lightly.

My hands rested on my lap nervously, as I thought about the whole situation with this Sarah person and what I was in the dark about. I hadn't even met her, yet I hated her, and watching Noah struggle the way he was with all of it was painful. He still hadn't told me their history, but I was hopeful he would soon.

"I should probably go check on him," I asserted. Jolly removed his arm from around me, making me already miss the comfort of his warmth, as I made my way upstairs to see what was wrong with Noah.

"Look, I can't work with this woman. She's a toxic person that I have a horrible history with and having her work with the Bad Omens crew is going to be the worst mistake ever." 

The regret I could hear in Noah's voice was crushing. Whatever happened in his past must have been not only devastating but detrimental too. Noah screamed, in the same manner, he would when he was on stage except this time with actual frustration. 

"Noah," I called, quietly knocking on the door. I was surprised by how fast the door opened and was instantly pulled into the room with the door closing behind me. Noah locked it and turned to me. 

His face was clouded with a perplexed look, but the magnetic appeal in his eyes held a sort of desirable darkness I was familiar with.

"Do you remember when you told me you were ready for me to have all of you?"

Closing the gap between us, Noah towered over me as he slid his hands around my waist and under my shirt, pulling me into him. My heart fluttered, immediately beating fast the moment his skin touched mine. "Yeah, I remember, and I meant it," I said, gently taking his face between my hands and tracing his bottom lip with my thumb.

He placed a moist kiss on the inside of my palm, leaving a dampness on my skin. The way he stared at me, dark eyebrow arched as he dragged his lust-filled eyes up and down my body, made me shiver. His breath was shaky either from the anger he was battling or that his self-control was wavering despite how hard he was resisting. 

"You can talk to me, you know. Whatever you have to say, I won't judge you or do anything that will hurt you, Noah. I just want to listen like you've always listened to me." 

He took my lips in his, kissing me softly, but I could feel his muscles flexing and grip tightening around me as he fought the urges his body was going through. He was tense and the breath he took when he kissed me was quick and loud. I needed to finally give this man the one thing he desperately needed from me; the one thing he'd been most respectful of.

"I don't fucking deserve you, Sophie," he confessed, laying his forehead on mine and closing his eyes. My hands wandered to his back, aching to feel his skin beneath them. I wanted his shirt off and tugged on it so he'd get the idea. After tossing it to the floor, Noah gathered me back up into his arms as I ran my hands up his chest, wrapping them behind his neck.

I laughed silently to myself, knowing how crazy he sounded. If anyone didn't deserve anyone, it was the other way around. I owed Noah the world after everything he'd done for me in the past year. In so many ways, he saved me.

"Yes, you do," kissing his cheek and brushing his hair back out of his face. I was eye-level with his chest, the dull colors of his tattoos so close I could see every detail. The word "desolate" stared me right in the face. It hurt to think that at some point in his life, Noah felt that way; empty, desolate. I prayed he still didn't. 

He shook his head, disagreeing with me. 

"Noah, look at me." He opened his eyes, no longer hiding the tears that lurked in their corners.

"You can't keep acting like if you let your guard down the world is going to end. Why don't you trust me enough to let me in?" 

He shrugged, quickly wiping away the one tear that escaped. I pulled him down and kissed his face. "I don't know why you seem to think you have to hide your pain from me; you don't." 

Noah clenched his jaw, hands moving up my body until they reached my shoulders and he pulled my shirt off, throwing it to the floor next to his. He pulled me in close, our chests pressed firmly together, and his hardness, which said he was hungry for me, pushed tight against my belly. His long fingers danced over the skin on my shoulders and back sending all kinds of signals between my thighs, making my muscles tighten like never before. I wanted him now more than ever and if I didn't get him soon I was going to internally combust. 

"You warm my soul, Sophie," he whispered in my ear, taking it in his mouth and sucking it lightly. A soft moan escaped me as I felt myself crumpling in his hands. 

"Whenever I'm around you, I feel alive," he continued, sliding his large hands under my bra and pulling it up, over my head, exposing my bare breasts to his hungry eyes. "And for a while, I can forget about my demons."

Noah's lips found mine again. They were desperate and needy and full of longing.

His hands found my breasts, their size completely engulfing them as he massaged and played with my nipples which immediately hardened at his touch. I couldn't hold back the sounds escaping me, but Noah didn't seem to mind.  

"I wanna fuck you, Sophie. I need to. Is that okay?" 

Noah's bluntness shocked me but didn't surprise me. I understood what he was feeling because I was feeling it too. I knew it was time to let him have my body as he had my heart.

I nodded my head, but he wouldn't accept that. "I need your words, Baby," he demanded in a tone I never heard before. I swallowed, hard. "Yes."

Like a switch that went off, Noah's face went from sweet to feral in a matter of seconds. He seized my hips, clamping down on them so hard I was sure there'd be bruises later, slamming his lips to mine and his tongue in my mouth. I knew at this point that he was in complete control and I was all too willingly surrendering.

"I want to cum inside you," he said bluntly, yanking my leggings down, forcefully until they were off and in the same pile as our shirts. "You're still on birth control, right?" pushing me against the desk, indicating me to sit. I nodded, too overwhelmed with what was going on to speak, sliding my bottom on top of the cold hardness of the desk like I was told. 

"Good." 

Noah paused for a moment, looking me over as I sat in only my panties on the top of his desk, waiting for him.

"You have no idea how long I've dreamed of fucking you like this," he said, sliding his joggers off. His hard cock was clearly visible through his black briefs, the length, and size of it making my eyes widen. Noah smiled, chuckling softly. 

"Do you think I won't fit?" My cheeks grew warm, snitching on my insecurities. Spreading my legs, Noah planted himself in between them, reaching for the tops of my panties, pulling them off, and placing them in the right side drawer. 

"Those are mine," he stated firmly. 

I didn't argue.  

"Don't worry, Baby. It'll fit perfectly inside your sweet little pussy; like a glove." Noah winked. I whimpered over the feeling that hit me as I watched Noah remove his briefs and yank me closer to him. He pumped himself a few times spreading the precum over the tip, preparing to slip it inside me. My breath caught in my throat over knowing this man before me and everything that came with him was mine, and the emotions that hit me were a lot. I couldn't think straight and didn't even notice when Noah reached behind my head and grabbed me with his free hand until I felt his kiss.

"You are fucking lethal to my self-control, you know that," I expressed, just as he slid two fingers inside my wet pussy, making me cry out. I threw my hand over my mouth to keep quiet, but he quickly pulled it away.

"Don't cover your mouth, I want to hear you." 

"But everyone downstairs," I whined, his fingers hitting the very spot inside me that felt heavenly, pulling another loud cry from me. With my hands behind me, palms flat on the desk, I tried to contain the sounds that were escaping but was failing miserably. 

"I don't give a fuck if they can hear us. I want to hear you scream for me, Princess." He gave me that smile that sent the butterflies in my stomach flying while pushing his strong fingers in and out of my sex harder and faster than ever before, never taking his eyes off me, making my moans grow louder. Our lips found each other as the version of me that once suggested we were meant for anything but this, melted away. 

"Noah," calling to him from the blissful part of my heart. 

"What is it, Baby?"

I was letting my emotions get the best of me, but he needed to hear how I really felt about him. 

"Noah, for the longest time, I believed love was a myth, something I didn't deserve because the only thing I had to compare it to was the life I had with Perry. But then you came along and proved to me that myths can sometimes be real too. Noah," I paused, licking my lips knowing I was about to take a huge risk, "Noah, I'm in love with you and I can't deny it anymore; I don't want to." 

I couldn't hold back the tears anymore as they slowly rolled down my cheeks. I was laid open like a book for Noah, exposing every vulnerable part of me. Noah stayed silent, reading me with his lustful eyes. His face was void of emotion, making it hard to know what line I'd just crossed. 

"Say something," I said, searching his eyes for some kind of response. He smiled, running his tongue over his bottom lip.

"Fuck this foreplay shit. You deserve the real thing," pulling his fingers out of me. Noah slid his fingers which were covered in my juices over his cock, pumping it a few times before lining it up to my pussy's entrance, plunging inside me with no warning, making me scream out his name in a lustful moan.  

"There it is," he said, grabbing my leg and holding it to his hip while wrapping his hand around my neck, lips finding mine as he began to thrust long and deep inside my wetness that was just for him. It took me a moment to adjust to him. It had been a while since, well since I was intimate, and to be perfectly honest, Perry was no match for Noah. The way Noah filled me was complete and I wasn't left wanting for anything more; just him, and at the moment I couldn't get him deep enough in me. My walls tightened around him with every thrust and pull he made, earning him a moan or a cry that I had no control over. 

"Goddamn, Sophie you're so fucking wet and tight, I can't," but he cut his words off, pushing his cock further into me. A low savage growl came from deep inside him. 

He leaned further into me, his hot breath covering my neck and head almost against my chest, as he savagely gathered me into him so that I could finally wrap my arms around him. 

I ran my nails across his shoulders, feeling the sweat that was already building on his skin, holding him to me in hopes that for a brief moment, I could make him feel safe, and from the way he clung to me, he did. Eventually, our steady speed turned into an unrelenting tempo and I couldn't hear anything but his grunts, my moans, and the sound of our skin slapping together.  

"I can't believe this is real; that you're real. I've been aching to be inside you," he breathed between each hard thrust. "I've needed this for too long, Sophie, and not just the sex, but sex with you." I managed to peer down and watch as his thick cock disappeared into my body, bringing my eyes up to meet his and see the enigmatic look on his face.

Noah was relentless against my pussy that was craving everything he was doing to it and I couldn't get enough of him inside me. "Sophie," he said softly, finally slowing his pace for a moment and letting me catch my breath. He took my face between his hands, pulling me to him, and dragging his lips across the skin of my neck and throat, sucking one specific spot until I could feel it bruising. He let go, bringing his eyes up to meet mine.

"God, why are you so fucking beautiful," kissing my lips violently. I couldn't resist the urge to smile. 

"This is going to sound corny as hell."

"Just say it."

"It wasn't until I met you that I understood I'd never been in love before." He brushed the strands of free hair out of my face. "I'm in love with you too, Sophie, and I want to spend every day proving it to you." 

I grinned, moving my hips around to feel his thickness inside me. I watched his eyes close and that satisfying look fall over his face again. 

"You like how that feels, my love," I cooed.

Noah nodded sluggishly. I sat up with him still inside me, latching on to his tight bottom and pushing further into me. His low grunts triggered another round of endorphins that made my pussy wetter.

"I don't need you to spend every day proving it, Noah. I already know. You've done things for me, and to me," I snickered, "that I've never experienced before." I ran my hands up his sides, relishing the feeling of his soft, tight skin beneath my fingertips. 

My body squirmed, begging Noah to continue what he started, and whimpered as his hand found my neck again. With his lips on mine, he whispered in my ear, "You are mine and only mine. You are my girl. Understand?" His fingers tightened around me, squeezing lightly until I was feeling a sort of high. 

"As long as you know you're mine and I'm not the kind of girl that shares. I will fight her for you Noah, and I'll win." 

Noah chuckled tightening his grip on my neck. My airwave was constricted, but I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing how fucking good it felt as he started his thrusting pace back up, massaging my inner walls even harder than before. "Your jealousy is already too fucking hot. She'd be a fool to cross your path." 

By this time I was pushing so hard against his thrust, craving the feeling of his cock inside me, that I was a writhing mess in his hands. My body was dying to reach its climax and was willing to do anything at this point to reach it. I braced myself against the bottom of the desk again, allowing Noah to use me as he needed to reach his release. My body was shivering and the built-up pressure in my stomach told me only one thing; I was almost there. 

Just thinking about this made my back arch and cries fell mercilessly from my mouth like rain. Noah quickened his pace, grabbing both my legs and locking them firmly around him. I felt completely surrounded by him, safe inside the dome of protection he created around us. Slowly, the fire in my body concentrated on the fire building in my core. My body started to shake and I was growing light-headed.

"Noah, fuck, baby, I'm almost there," I said gasping, taking a handful of his hair and tugging it. 

"That's it, my Princess. Fucking cum on me. I want to feel you. I need to feel you," he begged, taking his thumb and pushing it lightly on my clit. The circular motions he began made me moan louder.

"I love seeing you like this Sophie; so spread open and vulnerable in my hands. You don't know what you do to me, how fucking crazy you make me. I love you, Sophie." 

It was the first time either one of us said those exact three-letter words and the way it made me feel was unexplainable. I cried out harder than before, feeling like my entire body was on fire and about to explode. "Harder, Noah. Please, harder," I panted, almost reaching my climax. I knew I was being too loud, but I couldn't stop myself. "You look beautiful, Princess. I'm so fucking in love with you," he laughed. Finding his eyes, I saw the adoration for me in them and it was enough to pull one last cry from me before my walls collapsed around him, flooding me with such a beautiful release that my eyes welled up with tears. My orgasm hit me like a massive tidal wave, crashing into me without mercy, and I could feel myself cumming. "Fucking hell, Noah," I cried, grabbing his arms and digging my nails deep into his skin. He growled, hissing through his teeth as continued to lightly fuck me, pulling every last drop of my climax out of me.  

"You sound so damn beautiful, baby," Noah praised me, leaning over and latching his lips to one of my nipples. He sucked the hard peak first, lapping the tip before nipping the end, and then worked his tongue to the outside area, circling the skin and dragging his teeth over it. Switching to my other breast, Noah repeated his work as his hands roamed my body as if trying to memorize it. 

"Noah," I stammered, trying to speak the words that formed in my head but were impossible to say as he worked my body, trying to pull a second orgasm from me. My hands found his hair and I ran my fingers through its softness, sighing at the feeling 

"You think you have another one in you?" he asked, pulling me up and lifting me off the desk. "No. I'm drained," confessing as I wrapped my body around him, placing small kisses on his face and neck. He set me down carefully on the gray couch and a huge smile appeared on my face at the memory this couch held. "That look says otherwise," he said with a smirk, kneeling in front of me. 

"Noah, what are you doing?" His tattooed hands slid up my thighs, the darkness of them bringing out the paleness of my skin, and parted them, exposing my swollen sex to him. His nostrils flared and his jaw clenched as his deep dark eyes took in the sight of me.  

"You know, I thought that your pussy looked delicious before, but now that I've properly fucked it, it looks so mouthwatering, a could almost cum without even tasting you." Noah licked his lips before wrapping his arms around my legs, tugging me down toward his face, and plunging deep inside me with his mouth that I just about saw stars from the intense rush it gave me. I forced my hand over my mouth, this time covering it to save myself even more embarrassment. I moaned against my skin, biting any flesh my teeth could find. Noah let up, taking my leg and draping it over his shoulder to get a better angle. "I thought I told you not to do that," he scolded, pulling my hand away from my mouth. "I want to hear your sweet moans." "Yeah, but I'm so embarrassed. The others are downstairs and I'm sure they don't want to hear us." 

The look on his face was priceless and it made me giggle. "It's impossible for you to not overthink anything isn't it," he chuckled bringing his wet lips to mine, and kissing me until I could taste myself on him. "I said I don't give a fuck if they hear. They'd better get used to it because they're going to hear it a lot more than just tonight." He rubbed our noses together and tickled my side, making me laugh and squirm beneath him. We stared at each other for a moment, drinking one another in and trying to memorize every detail. I felt his cock, which was still fully hard, rub against my center, stirring the arousal inside me, and suddenly I wanted his mouth on me again. "Make me cum again, Noah," I whispered, pushing against him as I wiggled my hips and watched his lips curl into his precious smile. 

"Yes ma'am." Kissing my thighs and biting them, I jerked, the feeling intense, but welcoming. At first, his fingers parted my folds, and he slipped a finger inside me, but when he applied his mouth and worked my core so gently, a rush swept over me. I clawed at the fabric of the cushion, bucking my hips at every flick and circle his tongue made. He lapped up my wetness, sucking as much of it as he could before swallowing. "I'll never get enough of the way you taste," he muttered against my tightly clenched pussy, which was almost on the verge of cumming again. I just needed one more thing.

"I'm almost there, Baby. Use your fingers," I moaned, panting so heavily at the feeling of my second orgasm. As soon as Noah did what I asked, it only took a few pumps of his fingers to draw it out, and soon I was a shivering, shuttering mess in his hands again. Noah didn't even give me time to recover as he pulled me to the floor and slid himself gracefully between my legs, filling me with himself once more. This time I was able to properly hold onto him and allow him to take what he needed to find his own release. "God, you feel so fucking amazing wrapped around me, Sophie. I want this forever." "Forever?" I asked, surprised. His eyes met mine and he grinned, pecking my lips quickly. "You're making me cum, baby, I'm almost," he grunted, yelled, and then spilled himself inside me, coating my entire insides with his release. 

"Holy, fuck," collapsing into me so I could wrap him up in my arms. He was sweaty and sticky, and completely out of breath, but I loved every part of it. I didn't mind the pressure of his body against mine; I was just happy to have him. All of him.

"I'm sorry it took me so long to get to this point, Noah," I confessed, running my hands up and down his back. "I'm sorry if you ever felt I didn't trust you enough." 

"No, don't do that," he mumbled into my neck, planting soft kisses. "Don't apologize. You were healing. I understand that." He pushed himself up, holding his weight off me by the strength of his arms. His silver chain dangled down, and I couldn't resist the urge to play with it. "Sophie, you never have to apologize for guarding yourself because of what that piece of shit did to you." Standing up and slipping his briefs on, Noah grabbed a blanket and a pillow from the couch along with his shirt and laid back down next to me. He cleaned me up the best he could considering where we were with no access to a bathroom, and when we were finally settled, I snuggled into the crook of his arm, throwing my arm over him and hugging him tight. It was so warm and soft next to him, reminding me of the perfect spot you'd find in your bed, surrounded by a bunch of pillows. Bringing his arm around me, Noah began to caress my shoulder, letting his fingers slide across my skin lazily as we both began to grow tired. 

Even though we both knew where each other stood now, confessing our love and refusing other people at this point, there was a deeply hidden fear that began to latch itself in me. It was the kind of fear that was just about as terrifying as the thought of Perry; paralyzing. 

"Noah, can I ask you something?" 

"You know you can," he replied, sleepily. 

"Are you ever going to tell me what happened with you and Sarah?"

I felt his body go rigid and his hand squeeze my shoulder. I was suddenly worried I'd crossed a horrible line the second he pulled his arm out from under me and sat up. I was afraid to look at his face, fearing I had made him angry. 

"You deserve to know," Noah agreed with a sigh. "I can't avoid it, can I? We share everything now at this point," reaching over and taking my hand. I gave him my best half-smile, earning me a sweet caress of his fingers across my cheek. Pulling the blanket with me, I nestled myself in between his legs like he asked me to and leaned back against his body as he began telling me the story of his relationship with Sarah and how it all went wrong. My heart wasn't prepared for what I heard and I now understood why Noah was the man he was today. She broke his heart.  

CHAPTER 2 PT.2

[spaghettificationandpretzels]

If you haven’t received a Guero ask yet, I would like him with with prompt #4: 'I'm cold, and you're warm, you should do something about that." Pretty please!

Even though I love his dad more, he’s still a really cute guy!

Masterlist

Eventful Outing

Contains: Fishing (killing fish for food given a two-word mention) fluff.

1.4 K words

“When it rains on the ocean it rains on fish too.” - Matshona Dhliwayo.

As you stood in the rain with the river flowing by you, you wondered why you had agreed to this, "I brought plenty of food, can't we go inside until the rain eases up?" 

Guero snorted, "No fucking way, I told you I was going to catch us a fish for dinner and I am." 

You looked to his father, who shook his head, "The young man had a plan y/n, I'm sure we won't be waiting long." 

When Guero got you to agree to go on a fishing trip up north with him and Ibarra, you didn't think that would mean being stuck in the rain while they struggled to catch dinner, "It's not Salmon season so the only fish you're going to get now is Bass. You need to put different bait on the line." 

Guero glared at you, but there was no fire behind it, "You could have told us that an hour ago." 

His father huffed, "I tried to son, but you wanted things your way, telling me you read a book and shit. But now a pretty woman tells you and you're rushing to do what she says." 

Guero walked towards the shore, making sure to flick water at you as he took different bait from the box, "You wanna tell me how you know all of this and I don't?" 

You blinked, "I wasn't the only one, it's not a my fault you don't listen to me or your father." 

Guero smirked, "I listen to you where it counts." 

Despite your best efforts, you couldn't ignore the snicker that his dad gave, "Please shut up before I drown you." 

He turned to his father and inhaled in fake offence, "Do you hear how she talks to me Pops?" 

Ibarra shook his head, "You deserve it son, you got a big mouth." 

Your eyes widen in agreement, "Doesn't he? Holy shit, sometimes he won't shut up." Guero gave you a look and you held up a hand, "I know what you're about to say and if the words come out of your mouth I'm going to drown you for sure." 

He chuckled, "I wasn't going to say anything." 

Ibarra's hearty chuckle followed, "Yes, you were, it was as obvious as something can be." 

You shook your head, "Ok if this keeps going, I will drown myself." Still, you knew that look on Guero's face, "You are incorrigible." 

He smiled, "You love me." 

You sighed, "Yes, I do. Now please catch us food. I'm freezing my ass off over here and I know for sure I packed enough food to last us, so I'm only standing here to preserve your ego." 

He hands his father a chunk of bait before baiting his hook and throwing the line, "How did you know about the bait anyway? You hate camping." 

"One, we're not camping, we're staying in a cabin and two, I like to be prepared, so I talked to the bait shop attendant." You pointed to the box, "There's even stuff in there for crayfish since I bought a pamphlet for how to build traps from sticks and leaves and I thought you might like to try it." 

Ibarra smiled, "How thoughtful. That would be great y/n, I love crayfish." 

Guero turned to you and mouthed, "Kissass." But his eye betrayed how much he appreciated the amount of investment you had put towards this vacation. 

There was a change in the light and you looked up, the clouds growing even more ominous, "We're about to get a storm so you two better hurry up." 

Guero chuckled, "So you can predict the weather now? Tell me oh wise one, what other powers do you...." The skies opened in a torrent of water, "I stand corrected." 

You sighed, "I'd say you've got about twenty minutes before the thunder starts." 

"We'll have a fish by then." Guero sounded so sure of himself that there was no point in dissenting and sure enough, when the first crack of thunder came across the sky, Guero's rod jerked, "I told you." 

After a few mighty heaves, it was out of the water and dispatched humanely and Ibarra reeled in his line and sighed, "Alright then, can we go inside before we're hit by lightning." 

"Please, I'm freezing to death." You were so cold you swore your fingers were going to fall off. 

 Guero chuckled, "Hell yeah." 

Everyone headed inside and wrapped themselves in towels, "I'm going to clean and prep that fish and have a shower, no touches it." 

"I caught it, don't you think I should be the one to cook it." He was as smug as ever. 

Your eyes went wide, "No fucking way. A light and sweet river fish this fresh only has two preparation, baked with crispy skin or poisson en papillote. The oven here isn't powerful enough to bake it properly so poisson en papillote is it." 

Guero looked at you with such affection that you felt your heart might burst, "I have no idea what poisson en papillote but there was enough passion in your voice to let me know I should give up." 

Ibarra smiled, "It's French for fish in paper. It's really nice." 

Guero snorted, "Since when did you two get so fancy?" 

You sighed, "Please finely slice some onions. If you've got time to be all judgy, then you have time to help." 

Guero smirked, "I can do that." 

****

"Thish is sho good, you have to coo thish all the time." 

You shook your head, "Guero, don't talk with your mouth full, it's rude." 

"It is very good, all that time in the rain was worth it." You could tell Ibarra was trying extra hard, he knew how much his son loved you, and he wanted to make the most of the time away. 

You nodded, "I don't think I've ever cooked with fish that fresh, maybe tomorrow we can try and get some crayfish."

Guero suppressed a smile, "Look at you two getting along, and here I thought y/n was rude to everyone. I guess it's just me." 

You huffed in mock offence, "I am not rude to you, I just don't worship the ground you walk on like the other women you've spent you time with." The glare you fixed him stopped him from quipping back, "Yeah, that's what I thought. You're big mouth is going to get you into trouble one day." 

Ibarra, "It's already got him into plenty. Do you know about the time he landed in the principle's office for talking shit to a cop that came by the school to give a career talk?" 

"No, but I'm hoping you're going to tell me now." You weren't going to lie, you were hoping Ibarra would provide you at least one embarrassing story before you made your way back to SP. 

Guero chuckled, "Oh, you're having so much fun aren't you." 

You nodded, "Fuck yeah." 

****

The night wound down, this fish picked clean and the bread pudding Ibarra gone in one sitting. You tended to the fire in your room and shivered as Guero came up behind you, "Let me do that Mi amor." 

You pressed your lips to his cheek as you headed to the bed, moaning as the warmth from the heated blanket surrounded your skin, "You turned it on?" 

He nodded, "Of course. I can't have you going to bed cold now, can I?" 

With the fire stoked, he climbed into bed and rested on his back next to you and just as he got comfortable, you stretched your cold foot across the bed and brushed him with it, "Jesus Christ." 

 You flipped onto your side, "I'm cold, and you're warm, you should do something about that." 

Guero sighed and freed himself of his shirt before reaching over and manhandling yours off, after that, he pulled you into his arms so your skin was pressed again his, "Better?" 

You nodded, "Yep." 

He ran a hand up and down your back and rubbed your nose with his, "This is the closest we've been all day." 

You pecked his cheek, "Yeah I know, but I don't really want to make out with you in front of your father." 

He smiled, "It's not like he hasn't seen some shit." 

You huffed, "Next time he can bring someone and then it won't be awkward." 

Guero's eyebrows furrowed, "On second thought." 

You shook your head, "I have spent the whole day missing touching you." 

"Yeah?" He sounded so smug, "Maybe there's something I can do for that?"

"Nope, we're going to bed." As much as you wanted to, you had no idea how thin the walls were. 

He buried his nose in your hair and inhaled, "Alright Mi amor, I love you." 

"Goodnight Guero, I love you too." 

Fin

@withmyteeth @daydreaming-belle

[handspunyarns]

You Were Marked: Day Three.

pairing: din djarin x fem!O/C   

word count: 6.6k   

summary: The Dahls rise to mate. 

warnings: 18+, MINORS DNI! , Mando'a and English cursing, unprotected PiV sexual situations, non-con sexual situations 

You Were Marked: Masterlist 

<-You Were Marked: Previous Chapter 

Din awoke the next morning the same way he had the previous morning: flat on his back, floating in a fragrant cloud of herbs and dried flowers.  He slowly opened his eyes to see golden diffused sunlight streaming in angles across the dark curtains that surrounded him.  A light breeze luffed the fabric panels, revealing triangles of bright sunshine. He felt warm from a deep, dreamless sleep that was restful rather than restless.  He heard the clatter of a metal pot lid, the hiss of meat hitting a hot pan.  He sat up, rolling his left shoulder that was always stiff upon waking up, the shoulder that would always make a hard click noise when he moved it.  He tilted his head to the left side, then to the right, relishing the series of cracks his spine made, realizing that his usually sore back did not hurt at all this fine morning.  Rolling to his feet, he parted the curtains, and looked down to see the carcass of a partially eviscerated dead furry animal of some sort on the floor.   

Well, good morning to you too, he thought.  He looked over to the fire to see Marathel cooking with her usual brisk efficiency.  Grogu sat on the table, playing with what appeared to be some smooth stones.  His gaze returned to the dead critter.  “So . . . What happened here?” 

Marathel took a quick glance over her shoulder.  “The Dahls brought you a gift.” 

“This is their idea of a gift?” 

“There were actually three of them.  I’ve already got two skinned and gutted, but I thought you’d like to at least see one of them.” 

Din nudged the carcass with the toe of his boot.  “What was this thing?” 

“A gochgoch.” 

“Well, that tells me nothing.” 

Marathel shrugged.  “I don’t know what to tell you, other than that’s the noise they make, and they’re not good for much other than dried meat.”  Din picked up the carcass between his thumb and forefinger, bringing it over to Marathel.  He laid it on a wooden board on the counter where she had processed the other two critters.  “You should feel very privileged.  Dahls are not known for sharing food.  You must have impressed them much.” 

“I’m sure that has more to do with Grogu than it has to do with me.” 

“Perhaps, perhaps not.  He is easy to love.  You, however . . .” She left the thought unfinished and went back to her cooking pots.  “Are you hungry?” 

“Not especially.” 

“Gochgoch guts too much for you?” 

“No,” Din said, turning to the table.  “I just feel that I am being too idle and eating too much.”  He stacked three of the stones for Grogu to knock over.  Grogu squealed.  “Grogu, on the other hand . . . I sometimes worry that he does not have time to play.   To be a child.” 

Marathel looked over her shoulder to see Din stroking the child’s ear.  Grogu purred with contentment, gazing up at his foster father.  The sight tugged at her heart, reminding her that her own childhood was far different.  A thought occurred to her.  “Have you taught him how to fish?” 

“Fish?  Not yet.”  Din hadn’t gone fishing in years.  The idea was tempting. 

“The boys here learn to fish and hunt.  I sometimes fish myself, but I don’t often have time.”  She rummaged around in her stack of baskets until she found her lengths of dry line and hooks.   Within a few minutes, she had packed a bag with the fishing gear, some food, a jar of water, and a blanket.  “This should work.  If you keep going past the necessary, you will see a path.  Follow that past my vegetable garden, and it will go down towards the sea.  There is a river that feeds into it.  There are tidal flats that Grogu will enjoy running on.” 

Din reached for the bag.  Their fingertips touched.  Time stopped for a moment. Din recovered first, taking the bag from her.  “Bait?” 

“I put some gochgoch meat in there.  It should be enough for you to catch some bait.”  

“What will we be catching?” 

“At this time of day?  Probably just bait.”  Marathel shrugged with a smirk.  “Do you have a knife in that basket of weapons?” 

Din wasn’t going to tell her he had a knife in his boot.  Possibly two.  “I have a knife.” 

“Then you’re set.  I must tend the garden, but I will come down later to make sure you don’t get dragged away by the Great Godynferth.” 

Din tilted his helmet.  “I assume there’s a story there.” 

“Maybe you’ll get to hear it.  If you’re lucky.” 

Din and Grogu followed Marathel’s directions and found the tidal flats that she described.  It seemed to be an ancient lava field that had flowed from the mountain where the Mist originated.  The tide had gone out, leaving the tidal flats empty, save for the occasional low wave that spread out over the rocks.  The river was a sizeable one that fed into the sea.  Din talked Grogu through the process of tying a hook to the line, and how to bait it before casting the line into the river.  After a few false starts – Grogu had thrown the entire line into the shallows a few times – Grogu toddled through the shallow water, dragging the line behind him, enticing small fish to nip on the gochgoch bait.  Din found a long reed to use as a pole, cutting a slice to thread the line through the end, wrapping the line down the pole so that he could feel with his fingers if there were a bite on his line.  Marathel was correct: they only caught the kind of fish that was good as bait.  Grogu, of course, preferred to eat the fish, instead of allowing Din to cut them up.  Then Grogu realized he could just levitate the little fish out of the water using the Force, abandoning the fishing line altogether.  Din lost count of how many times he said put it down, Grogu as Grogu happily splashed in the water, surrounded by little flying fish.  He eventually gave up and removed Grogu’s robe and pants so he could play unencumbered.  Din set his pole between two rocks beside him, in case he got a bite – and settled back against a large boulder to watch Grogu scamper over the tidal flats.  The child brought Din little treasures: some pretty shells, a crab, a curled piece of driftwood.  Din traded these for the bits of dried fruit and meat Marathel had packed for them and arranged the shells and driftwood on a large flat stone next to him, allowing the crab to scuttle away. 

It was sometime later when he felt the ping of a small stone hitting the top of his helmet.  “Wake up, Bounty Hunter.” 

“Wasn’t sleeping.”  This was technically true.  Resting his eyes was not sleeping. 

Marathel came up beside him.  She had a light wrap around her head and neck to keep the sun off her, and she carried a large basket of vegetables in one arm and a wooden rake over her shoulder.  She looked out at Grogu.  “Well, if that isn’t the cutest little bare green bottom I’ve ever seen.”  She set down her load and sat down next to Din, stretching out her legs and crossing her dirty feet in front of her.  “What did you catch?” 

“Bait.” 

“Unfortunately, there’s not much on this side of the Hold.  They fish on the far side of the Hold, away from here.  Big fish over there.”  She found the clay jar of water and took a long drink from it.  “Your armor must keep you terribly warm.”  

Din shrugged. “The sun is always shining when you’re wearing a metal helmet,” he said sagely. 

Marathel burst out laughing, finishing with a most unladylike snort that caused Grogu to turn to her.  Upon seeing her, he ran towards her, giggling.  He leapt into her lap for hugs, which Marathel was more than happy to give.  She picked out a large orange berry-looking fruit from her basket and tore it in half, giving a piece to Grogu.  Grogu relinquished the clam shell he had been playing with, took the fruit, and toddled back to the tide flat.  Watching him go, she bit into her half of the fruit, juice dribbling down her chin.  Din gazed at her while she wiped her chin with her sleeve.  “How ever did such a charming child end up with the likes of you?” 

Din turned his eyes back to Grogu.  “He was a bounty.  Some . . . very bad people wanted to cause him harm.  I kept him with me instead of turning him over to the bad people.” 

Marathel frowned, trying to think of the words.  “It was good of you to keep him safe, even though I do not understand what a bounty is, or why you hunt them.” 

“I do it for the money.  It pays well enough.”  He didn’t feel the need to discuss how dangerous it was. 

“Money?  I don’t understand.” 

Din was not surprised in the least that she didn’t know what money was.  “When I find people, I receive a reward.” 

“So,a bounty has . . . worth?”  Din nodded.  “And when you bring me to the Hold, with the eggs . . . you will receive a reward?”  He nodded again.  “What is my worth?” 

Din was silent for a moment.  “I was offered 167 Ossum Aurodium coins for you.” 

“Is that a lot?” 

“If they are in fact Aurodium, from Ossum, minted into coins, that would be worth an exceptional lot.”  Marathel looked down to her hands, dirty from digging in the dirt.  She slipped them into her sleeves.  The fact that The Bishop would offer a stranger from another planet what was apparently something so valuable for her . . . it added another layer of dread to her thoughts.  So much for the thin thread of hope that The Bishop would forget that she existed.   Her eyes drifted closed in despair. “What I don’t understand, though,” continued Din, “is . . . why . . . there would be Aurodium coins here.”  Marathel’s eyes flashed open.  That was not what she expected him to wonder about.  “It doesn’t make sense that this self-sustaining Hold you have here would have anything like Aurodium to trade or offer.  You know nothing about the history of your planet, right?  How your people got here?” 

Marathel looked down to her knees.  “No. Nothing.  The Hold has always been there.  The Elders have always been there.” 

Din was tapping his finger in irritation on one of the shells next to him.  “The Elders.”  He turned to her.  “Were you . . . betrothed to this Bishop?   Why is it so important that you go back to him?” 

Marathel opened her mouth to answer, but then closed it again.  After a long time, she said, “I was . . . supposed to be a Whyn, but when Diwhyn Olba realized I could hear the Dahls when no one else could, she knew it was . . . safer for me to be out of the Hold.” 

“That also doesn’t make sense.  And what is a Whyn?  There’s something more to it than just a girl who has grown up, isn’t there?”  Marathel lifted her head, but then her attention was suddenly and completely stolen from Din’s words.  He noticed that she was no longer listening to him but was focused on Grogu in amazement.  He looked over to see Grogu levitating a tentacled creature, larger than he was, over his head.  The creature was slowly twirling like a gyroscope. 

“Frith in heaven,” she breathed.  “What . . . How . . .” 

Din sighed.  “Yeah, he does that too.” 

“He can . . . heal, and he can . . . lift things?” 

“Grogu has powers with the Force.  His people were Jedi.” 

Marathel frowned.  “Magic, then?” 

Din tilted his head.  “Well, no, not magic at all.  The Force is . . . an energy that flows through the universe, and certain people, they can . . . harness and use it.  I don’t understand it much myself.” 

“That must make your life interesting.” 

After a moment, Din answered, “It is an adventure.” 

They sat quietly for a long time.  Din wanted to keep asking her questions, but when he turned to look at her, he saw such sadness in her face that he remained silent.  She drew her legs under her to stand.  “We should go, so that we are not caught out in the darkness.  The Dahls are restless, and when they’re restless . . . they can be dangerous.”  She walked out to collect Grogu, removing her headscarf to wrap around the little green body.  Din pocketed the shells and driftwood and collected Marathel’s basket and rake.  She raised her head to look at him, standing on one hip, holding her basket like it weighed nothing, the rake over his shoulder, armor reflecting the sunlight.  She felt a hitch in her heart, and then chided herself for thinking foolish thoughts.  If only the straight-line path of her life could go in a different direction.  She may be currently sidetracked, living Holdless as she was, but her future loomed larger as she heard the Dahls louder and louder in her head.  Tired, Grogu’s head clonked against her shoulder.  She pressed her cheek to his, and a single tear dropped from her eye to land on his petal-soft ear.  Grogu lifted a tiny hand to her mouth, which she kissed, and felt better. 

It took a while to walk back.   Marathel seemed to get more distracted as they walked along.  She kept slowing her pace to gaze out over the distance.  Sometimes she just stopped walking to close her eyes and take deep breaths.  Din frowned at her under his helmet.  Had he managed to upset her with his questions?  Was she falling ill, or experiencing some after-effects from the Mist?  He finally ended up walking ahead of her, depositing the heavy basket of vegetables in the kitchen, replacing the rake, and then meeting her back at the steps to collect Grogu.  He took Grogu from her, headscarf and all, accidentally taking hold of her tunic as well.  He muttered “Sorry,” under his breath, but then kept out a hand for her to assist her up the steps, which surprised her.  Surely, he didn’t think I needed help to go up three steps? she thought. Still, she took his gloved hand, and he did give a slight pull on her as she ascended into the hut.  Dropping her hand, Din unwound the wrap from Grogu.  “He really should have a bath,” he said.  “Is it all right if I bathe Grogu in the sink?” 

Marathel nodded.  “Of course.”  She set about adding hot water to the reservoir, finding towels, bringing the jar of soap off its shelf.  She noticed that Din kept his gloves on to bathe the child rather than remove them in her presence.  As she chopped vegetables for dinner, she stole glances over to the sink on the other side of the hob, smiling as Din created stand-up curls of soapy hair on the green child’s head.  “You are a good parent to him, Bounty Hunter.” 

Din considered that high praise, coming from her.  “I try.”  He poured a cup of water over Grogu’s head.   He didn't know why it was so easy to speak to this woman, but being around her loosened his tongue.  “I wish my own parents had lived longer, so that I could have learned more about how to parent from them.” 

Marathel was immediately saddened.  “You lost your parents when you were young?  I am so sorry.” 

Din lifted Grogu out onto a fluffy towel.  “A foundling raising a foundling seems appropriate.  You probably got to grow up with your family in the Hold.” 

Marathel put her knife down.  “I actually don’t know who my mother is.”  Din paused in his drying of Grogu to look at her.  “All the children are raised together in the Hold.  All the Whyns who give birth raise all the children together.  There are no families.” 

This struck Din as incredibly sad.  In the covert, although the children were also all raised together as a village, each child who had parents in the covert knew who they were and lived in their family units.  Even the foundlings had the fortune of being apprenticed to an adult Mandalorian who served as a foster parent.  “Diwhyn Olba was not your mother?” 

Marathel moved on to slicing meat.  “She might have been.  If she was, I never knew.  She did not tell me.” 

“What of your father?” 

Marathel stood still for a moment.  “I know who my father is, yes.”  Her tone indicated to Din that she would not continue on this subject, and she returned to her slicing.  Din went back to drying Grogu.  Then he heard Marathel hiss, “Oh, for the love of Frith!”  Din looked over to see that Marathel had cut her fingertip quite badly.  He took a step towards her.  “I’m fine!” she snapped, sticking her finger in her mouth.  Din did not offer to help her again and dressed Grogu in clean clothes.  She wrapped her finger with a bit of towel and began slamming things in the kitchen in irritation.  She couldn’t find the herbs she wanted; the meat cooked unevenly; the pot of grains boiled over.  Din stayed silent, entertaining Grogu on the steps, giving her wide berth.  She finally served the dinner, and Din fed Grogu on the steps.  Grogu seemed to be happy about what she had made, but then he would eat anything that would remotely be food.  Din set the child down to run around the yard, and he brought the dish back to the kitchen.  He saw Marathel sitting on the bench closest to the fire, her back to him, elbows on her knees, her face in her hands.  He didn’t want to raise her ire, so he placed the dish in the sink without a word, the clunks of his boots making his presence known.  Marathel sat up and sighed.  “Forgive me.  I am . . . cranky.” 

“Naas baatir.” 

“And that means . . .?” 

“’It is nothing.’” 

“At any rate, thank you.” 

“Naas baatir.” 

She softly snickered at that and got up to make their late afternoon tea.  His with a saucer, hers without.  Din was already at his usual place on the steps; Marathel placed the tea at his hip and sat at her usual place on the other end of the steps.  The late afternoon shadows were already creeping across the yard.  Marathel held her mug in both hands, hunched over, her elbows on her knees.  Her head was bobbing slightly as if she were hearing a staccato drumbeat in her head.  Din watched her out of the corner of his eye as her thumbs began tapping on the edge of her mug.  This went on for some time.  He finally turned his head to ask what the shab was wrong with her, but she must have noticed his movement, as she turned her head and snapped, “It is . . . It is naas . . .Naas . . .” 

“Naas baatir.” 

“Naas baatir.  As you say.”  Marathel put her mug down on the step -- a bit harder than she had intended -- and pushed herself into a standing position.  She ran her hands roughly through her hair, piling it up on top of her head with her hands, then letting it fall.  She closed her eyes and took a deep calming breath, before walking out to Grogu in the yard.  Calmer now, she sat next to Grogu and began to weave the pile of flowers he had picked into crowns and necklaces, all of which she draped over him.  By the time she was done, Grogu was twice his size, the floral crowns piled high on his head, bracelets from his shoulders to his hands, and so many necklaces only his eyes were visible above them.  Grogu happily trotted off to show Din, who laughed, stood up and then bent into a deep and formal bow, proclaiming, “Your Majesty!”  Marathel laughed too as Din picked up Grogu and held him high above his head, flowers falling and bouncing off his helmet.  Din lowered the boy and tucked him into the crook of his arm.  Marathel sat where she was, elbows wrapped around her knees, watching the armored man interact with tiny green child, her smile falling from her face.  She closed her eyes and swallowed.  The Dahls were getting noisy again in her head.  She grimaced and looked out towards the tall grasslands, wondering how she was going to get through the night.   Finally, she stood up and walked into the stream up to her ankles, the setting sun to her back, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, forcing herself to breathe as naturally as possible.  

Din watched her as she stood ankle-deep in the cold stream, her shoulders rising and falling with each breath, the sunlight reflecting on her silver hair, turning it into a burnished gold color.  Something was wrong with her; he knew that much.  She had said the first day that eggs would be coming in four or five days, and this was day three of his time here.  He decided that she was nervous about having to go to the Hold to deliver the eggs; it was more than obvious she feared The Bishop.   

He felt Grogu growing heavier in his arms; the child had a long, exciting day, and the flowers were lulling him to sleep.  Din carefully removed all the garlands from Grogu and made a bower of the floating pram, laying the dozing child in the center of the flowers.  “Sweet dreams, buddy,” whispered Din as he shut the lid of the pram.  He wondered for the briefest of moments if there might be insects in the flowers, then figured that Grogu could have a midnight snack if that were the case.  By the time he looked up again, Marathel had left the yard.  Looking around, he noticed that she was walking through the stream, past the hut and away, deep in her own thoughts.  Din picked up the mugs and took the opportunity to lift his helmet enough to drink his tea, thinking that he needed to find out what herbs were in it before he left this planet.  He put a little hot water in her mug of tea to warm it up, leaving it on the table.  After a moment’s thought he put the saucer over it.  After another moment’s thought he put one of the fallen flowers on top of the saucer.  Then, worried that she might misconstrue the gesture, he removed the flower.  He was standing there, overthinking a silly flower, when Marathel stepped back up onto the platform at the back corner.  “What are you doing, Bounty Hunter?” 

His head snapped around as if she’d caught him stealing her entire stash of bread.  “I, uh . . . warmed up your tea.” 

She stood there, staring at him silently with a quizzical look on her face.  She reached over, removed the saucer, and took the mug.  “I think I will lie down.  Excuse me.”  She turned and disappeared behind her curtains.  Din glowered down at the little yellow flower in his hand, as if it were the source of his confusion and irritation.  With a small sigh, he walked over to the steps the furthest away from her curtains as possible – as loudly as his steps could be, for her benefit -- and sat down.  After a while, Din tucked the little yellow flower away in the inner pocket that held the shells and driftwood from earlier that day.   He leaned against the post, and stared into the sky as the stars began coming out, listening to the yip-yip-yehs of the Dahls in the far distance. 

Marathel could not sleep.  She could not relax.  She tried to stay as quiet as possible, knowing that the Bounty Hunter was probably still awake and able to hear every move she made as the rushes in her sleeping tick crackled.  Damn these rushes, she thought.  Damn my desire to be comfortable. She wished for her worn-out pallet that she had in the Hold.  It had been very thin, and she had felt every stone of the kitchen floor underneath it, but it didn’t make any noise to announce that she was not sleeping.   She rolled to her back, stretching her arms out, trying in vain to let her body receive any cool breeze it could, but the air was still, and the yip-yip-yehs of the Dahls carried easily in the night air, but they were even louder inside her head, reverberating with her heartbeats.  With a soft grunt, she rolled to her feet, giving up on any kind of sleep.  She left her curtains on the kitchen side, hoping not to attract attention.   She wanted cool water, but all she had was what was left in the reservoir.  The fire had gone out, but the water there was still too warm.  it was too dark -- even with the moonlight -- to see if her hanging waterskin still held water, so she grabbed the small lantern that she kept above the dry sink, shaking it to wake up the glow worms inside, giving off a pale light.   

It was the light source that made Din turn his head in her direction.  He had been sitting quietly, still leaning against the post, facing her curtains.  He had been listening to her toss and turn, and heard her get up.  The floating pram was quiet.  He was surprised to see that she had any kind of lantern.  She lived like a farmer – up with the sunrise and down with the sunset.  The lantern hardly gave off any light at all, and all he could really see was her outline as she held her hair on top of her head with one hand as she held a wet cloth to the back of her neck with the other.  As his eyes dragged down her back, he could see that she was wearing a thin gown with a wrap over it.  He stood, hoping not to startle her, his boots announcing his presence on the wooden plank floor.  She took a deep breath, dropped her hair, tossing her cloth on the counter, moving past her curtains and out of sight.  He followed her.  He turned to his left, just past her curtains, when he saw her leaning against a post, her back to him.  Her arms were wrapped around the post tightly as she hugged it. 

Din crept closer.  “What is wrong?” 

Marathel gave a raspy sigh.  “It’s the Dahls.” 

Din stood quietly, listening to the cries of the Dahls. “They are very loud tonight.” 

She dropped her forehead to the post.  “They’re rising to mate.” 

A long pause. “I see.” 

Marathlel’s breath grew faster and more ragged.  “I can hear them.” 

“I hear them too.” 

She shook her head vigorously.  “No!  I . . . hear them.  Not just in here,” she said, indicating her ears.  “But here . . .” she put her hands on her head.  “In here,” her shaking hands crossed over her chest, and her wrap fell to the floor, leaving her only in a whisper of a nightgown.  “And here . . .” her hands slid down her breasts to her belly.   

Din took in her words, the full truth finally getting through to him -- then he breathed out, “Oh.”   

Marathel panted, wrapping her legs around the post, pulling herself close to it with a low moan.  Din stepped forward and bent to retrieve her wrap.  As he straightened up, Marathel suddenly leaned back, holding the post, and her spine met his beskar cuirass.  Her head shot up with a gasp, and she immediately tried to press harder against him.   

“I’ve . . . always been alone before . . .I don't . . . I haven't . . .” she whimpered. 

Din stood motionless, holding her wrap with one hand.  He closed his eyes tightly, knowing that he should back off, that he should leave her, that he should just take Grogu and walk off into the night, but just then she dipped her knees, rubbing her backside against the front of his breeches, where he did not wear beskar.  His eyes opened, his penis twitching into life against his will, and from that moment, there was no existing force that could make him leave. She mewled deep in her throat, grabbing at the cuisses he wore on his thighs, pressing her round buttocks harder against him.  She turned around slowly, taking hold of whatever piece of armor or flight suit she could grab, desperately pressing whatever part of her body she could against his.  She scrabbled at his cuirass, pulling him towards her against the post, her teeth bared, her eyes gone dark and glazed, her breasts heaving against the thin fabric of her gown.  Din grabbed at the post with the hand holding her wrap over her shoulder, his own breath growing ragged.  He heard her growl as she clawed at his chest armor, breaking her fingernails.  He reached up with his free hand to release the catches and the armor fell to the floor.  She clutched at his now-exposed flight suit, straddling his thigh, rubbing herself hard against the armor there, her own thigh pressed firmly into his crotch as his erection grew.  He automatically rutted against her thigh, pressing his whole body against hers, pinning her to the post, feeling the weight of her breasts against his flight suit.  She quietly growled again, sliding her hips to his center, curling her spine, thrusting her pelvis against his, her barely covered vulva against his clothed tumescent cock, matching his rhythm.  His knees were slightly bent to accommodate her, so she wrapped her own legs around his, placing her bare feet on the backs of his calves, and climbed him like a tree until her thighs were wrapped tightly around his ribs, continuing to thrust her hips against his, her arms clutched around his shoulders.  Gasping, he reached under his helmet to rip his glove off his free hand with his teeth, and he reached between them, shuddering at her heat, her wetness, her unspoken pleading against the back of his bare hand.  He could barely register the thought that he was touching her with his bare skin as he clumsily loosened his breeches and opened them enough to let his cock spring free, aching, desperate for her.  He felt his tip touch her hot wet center, thinking that he should go slow into her, thinking that he should be gentle, thinking that she didn’t have control of herself, that this wasn’t Marathel before him but a woman with a mind and body possessed, when she lowered her chin, her dark eyes flashing at him, her teeth bared in a snarl, and she dropped her weight enough to impale herself onto him, forcing his cock as deep into her as it would go.  She gave a small cry, throwing her head back against the post, her knees squeezing his ribs hard enough to break them, her thighs going into spasm as she immediately, powerfully, exquisitely, came. He felt the flutter of her quim against his cock, and he thrusted madly against her, pinning her to the post, his hand not holding the post clutching a cheek of her round, sweet, soft, ass, losing all control of his previous thoughts of gentility.  Her thighs continued to squeeze, her quim continued to clutch, her cries continued to peal against his helmet, as she rode out not so much a series of orgasms as one long continuous one that seemed to ebb and flow as she moved her hips in counterpoint against his.  With every thrust, Din grew weaker and weaker, the greyness that had been just around the very edges of his vision growing stronger and stronger.  Her return thrusts grew more determined against him, harder, faster, her quim clasping his cock as if she were sucking the very life out of it, and Din began to feel that he might just pass out before he came if she kept this up.   

At that moment, she thrust her hips furiously against him, squeezing her thighs even harder than he had thought possible, locking her ankles together, driving her heels into his spine, rendering him motionless with a ragged cry before she dropped her face against his chest, biting him hard through the flight suit as she trembled and fell apart at the peak of her long-riding orgasm.  The pain of her teeth sinking into his chest sent him right over the edge, grunting, his hips convulsing against her as he finally released into her.  First spasm, second spasm, gasping against her shoulder as he willed his body to finish before he fell to the floor.  He twitched his hips, he had more that he desperately needed to fill her with, when he sensed, he felt, her body change against his.  Her gasps of frantic pleasure were now gasps of panic; he felt her whole body stiffen, her head drawing back against the post, her hands pressing against his chest with a need to escape as Marathel came back into herself, displacing the raw need of the mating Dahls that had just completely possessed her.  All this happened in the tiniest of moments, but he needed a bit more time, so he kept her captive, whispering, “Wait, wait,” into her ear, as he felt his pelvis and testicles clench.  Third spasm.  Marathel gasped.  “Shhhhhhhh,” he breathed.  He grunted again as the fourth and last spasm finally went through him and into her.  Marathel gasped again, this time with a little cry.  “Shhhhhhhh”, he whispered again. “You’re okay.  You're okay.”  He kept himself pressed against her, his upper arms holding her thighs against his sides, willing his breathing back to normal, as his erection faded.  Her body was still completely tensed up, ready to spring away at the slightest opportunity.  He slowly, carefully reached between them, the back of his hand touching her again, causing her to whimper as he removed himself from her, tucking his now-flaccid penis back in his breeches.  He then used that same hand to gently remove her trembling left leg from his waist, carefully setting her foot back on the floor, smoothing down her nightgown against her thigh.  He switched hands on the post, performing the same task with his other hand on her other leg.  Still keeping her captive against the post, he pulled his head back to see her staring with wide eyes at his left pauldron.  He took the wrap, miraculously still in his hand after all this, and carefully draped it over her shoulders, covering her front to grant her some modesty.  He looked down at her.  She continued to stare at his shoulder, trembling, biting her lips.  “Hey,” he said softly.  Her wide eyes shifted to his helmet.  “All right?”  She nodded and looked away.  He took a half-step back, turning his head so that he would not see her gown, which had been captured at her waist, fall back down to her ankles.  Finally released from his grasp, she turned and launched herself off the platform and into the night. 

Din took one shaky breath, then a second, and then collapsed with his shoulder against the post.  Dank ferrik, he thought weakly.  It hurt his shoulder, but at that moment he was thankful for that damned post, otherwise he would have face-planted on the floor.  He released the catches on his helmet and quickly pulled it off, feeling the cool air on his face and hair as sweat dripped into his eyes.  He looked off to where Marathel had run and saw nothing.  The lantern was much dimmer now, but he figured he didn’t have much time before she came back.  He went to the sink, grabbed the cloth she had used on her neck, resoaked it in the now-cool water from the reservoir, and quickly wiped his face, head, and neck before replacing his helmet.  He took a quick glance over his shoulder and still didn’t see her, so he quickly opened his breeches to clean himself up, making sure the cloth ended up in her dirty laundry basket.  He replaced his glove and reached down to pick up his cuirass when the fabric of his flight suit dragged across his chest, reminding him that she had wounded him. 

He went to the lantern, which was now almost completely dimmed out.  He gave it a shake as he had seen Marathel do, and the glow worms within glowed brightly again.  He opened his vest to find that she had indeed bitten him rather badly. As he sought out a clean cloth and her jar of soap, he saw Marathel returning, clutching her wrap around her tightly.    He turned his back to her so as not to expose the wound – or his bare chest -- to her as he cleaned the bite mark.   A ridiculous move, he thought, considering that they had just fucked like blood-hungry womp rats against a post, but he did it anyway.  She climbed up on the platform, decidedly not looking at him, and went to the sink to wash her hands and brush her teeth.  Glancing over his shoulder again at her bent form, he said, “You bit me.”

She froze for a moment.  “Is it bad?” 

“It broke the skin.” 

“I, um. . .”  Putting down her toothbrush, she reached up past his shoulder and brought down a jar that looked familiar.  Her breasts brushed against the back of his flight suit, and she jumped back.  “Use this salve. It will keep infection away.”  She went back to the sink and her toothbrush. 

Din used the salve as directed and closed his flight suit.  Lifting his cuirass over his shoulders he asked, “Does your cycle follow the Dahls’ cycle?” 

Marathel fell still again, and her face grew hot as she realized what he was asking her.  She swallowed and said, “No.  No, it does not.” 

Din nodded.  “You should be okay anyway; I’m fixed.” 

“I’m sorry?” 

Din clicked the last of the catches on his armor.  “I’m shooting blanks.” 

Marathel softly said, “Oh,” and went back to brushing her teeth.  She didn’t understand what he was talking about, but she knew that she did not have the courage to ask.  She returned her toothbrush to its proper place.  Din walked back to the floating pram, glad that it was still completely shut.  He was not ready to have that conversation anytime soon.  They each moved to their curtained partitions, but they both paused, both knowing that words were being left unsaid and both unsure if they would – or should -- stay that way. Din turned to look at Marathel.  Marathel had half-turned, but her eyes were downcast.   She stammered, “I . . . good night,” and escaped behind her curtains for the second time that night.   The pale fabric fluttered closed.  Din stepped behind his dark curtains and laid down, flat on his back, and linked his fingers together across his stomach.  He blinked into the darkness and thought, Well, that was different. 

Marathel sank down to a sitting position on her sleeping tick, staring off into space for a long time after the Bounty Hunter had fallen asleep.  Over and over in her head she thought, dear Frith in heaven, what have I done? 

You Were Marked: Next Chapter ->

[rubydracogirl]

Siren's Treasure

Mermay/Gravity Falls story

Siren!OcXFord Pines and Stan Pines

Rated M just in case. This chapter isn't spicy but later parts probably will be

Part one is here if you missed it

Chapter 2

Shells

Stan was starting to get pissed off as he hauled back another empty line with his bait completely gone.

“Not again!” He hissed as he reset his hook with fresh bait. As he tossed the new line into the water, he settled in his chair, watching closely. He’d be damned if he lost another fish to whatever was taking it.

He’d always enjoyed ocean fishing, though it was certainly a different beast from fishing in the lake in Gravity Falls. 

Often, he had better luck catching fish off the boat then he ever did at that stupid lake-

His rod jerked slightly and he sat up, peering into the water as he pulled back, trying to hook whatever had grabbed onto the bait.

“C’mon, come to papa-” He chuckled as his rod jerked, a sign that he'd caught whatever was there. He let the line go, his excitement growing.

The line went slack, and he began to reel again, only for the fish to fight him, more spirited than ever.

This went on for longer than he would have liked. Sweat beaded on his brow, and he found himself bracing against the side of the boat.

“Ford!” He shouted as he nearly went over the rail. He braced himself and pulled back hard-

All at once, the line went completely slack and he went bowling over, nearly head over heels. 

Luckily for him, Ford broke his fall. Unluckily for them both, the deck broke their collective fall.

“Holy Moses,” Stan groaned, cursing colorfully under his breath as Ford helped him back to his feet. 

“What the-” Stan took a confused look at the end of his line. Attached to the hook was a giant, conical shell. It was a deep, golden brown color with creamy white dots scattered over its glossy surface.. 

“How the devil did you manage that?” Ford asked, impressed as he picked up the giant shell, untangling it from the hook.

“I dunno, I-”

Stan’s bewildered look became a scowl as they both heard a loud splash. Poking her head up from the water was the Siren. And in her mouth was a sizable fish-

“YOU DIRTY THIEF!” Stan shouted, shaking his fist at her as he lurched to the railing, “THAT’S MINE! GIVE IT BACK, YOU FISH FLOOZY!”

She only grinned, making a show of taking a huge bite out of the fish. Stan sputtered in rage, shouting at her as she chewed lazily, staring at him with an unimpressed expression before ducking down under the water.

“That overgrown tuna took my-”

“Stanley, do you know what kind of shell this is?” Ford interrupted.

“Should I?” Stan fumed as he glared at the water.

“It’s a Junonia shell, probably the biggest one I’ve ever seen…” 

“So?” 

Stan was still scowling at the water. The Siren poked her head back up, obviously chewing. He inhaled to yell at her some more, when Ford’s next words struck him.

“These are extremely rare. The biggest ones I’ve seen are less than five inches long and sell for a lot of money. This one’s damn near two feet long and in pristine condition-”

“How much?” Stan whipped around, taking another look at the shell.

“Smaller ones sell for something like fifty to eighty dollars last I was aware. I’m not an expert but I’d guess- hey!”

Stan snatched the shell, looking over it with renewed interest. 

“Just our luck there’s probably something in it-”

But the shell was completely empty.

“More than likely, she ate the creature inside.” Ford mused as he looked back at the water. “I thought perhaps she was following us to scavenge, but maybe not?”

The siren was back, peering at them with a grin. Stan coughed as he held up the shell for her to see.

“You keep bringing me shells like this, you can have any damn fish I hook that you want!” He shouted with a big grin.

She didn’t reply, but she didn’t look confused. Ford’s brow furrowed as he studied her. That had to be a sign she understood English, at least…

So why wasn’t she talking to them?

8~8~8~8~8~8~8~8~8~8~8~8~8

In the weeks that followed, Stan collected almost twenty different kinds of shells from the siren. Each time he reeled in his line, there’d be a new seashell waiting, each as rare and beautiful as the first.

Ford was deeply puzzled by the whole thing. The whole time she’d been following them, he had not once heard her sing or speak. The siren he had dated in Gravity Falls had been the exact opposite. She sang often and was a vociferous companion. Ford hadn’t minded; her being chatty was especially helpful for his research.

“Shelly’s late today,” Stan commented, watching his fishing line with pretended disinterest.

“Shelly?”

“Yeah. Y’know, the cute fish lady that’s been hanging around? Can’t keep calling her ‘the siren’. Sounds dumb.”

“Very creative,” Ford replied dryly.

“Alright, smartass, what would you call her?”

Ford took a moment to think, his eyes wandering over the waters before he shook his head.

“She most likely has a name already.”

“She’s not opening up about it if she does. Besides, Shelly’s not a bad nickname.”

Ford huffed in annoyance but reluctantly agreed.

“You’re right, it’s not a bad name.”

“Heh, damn straight.” Stan puffed his chest. “How much d’ya think I’ll get for these shells?”

“Probably depends on where you take them.” 

There was silence for a moment before Stan glanced at his twin. Ford was staring off into space, his brow furrowed.

“What’s eatin’ ya?”

Ford didn’t reply for a moment. The sounds of the water around them permeated the atmosphere as his thoughts percolated.

Stan glanced away and he brightened as he saw his fishing rod bending slightly.

He eagerly began to reel it in…but instead of a shell, there was actually a fish on the line.

Stan frowned for a moment before shrugging.

“I caught our dinner.”

They didn’t see her at all that day.

[dubiousduskwight]

Day 5: Stamp

Fishing off the edge of Pier #2 was an everyday kind of farce in Kugane. A good catch wasn’t impossible, but the anglers that congregated around the dock stuck near boats where they were unlikely to get a bite. Many didn’t even bother to bait their hooks. During the day it was a place for those with someone to avoid and nothing better to do beyond gossip with the locals. At night, it was a useful place for calm and quiet, and many a henpecked spouse stayed out late “fishing at the pier” only to come home empty-handed.

Calm and quiet also made the pier a useful place for clandestine nighttime meetings, something the Sekiseigumi also knew, which is why Suzume only went fishing during the day. Despite the bustle of daytime business, it was harder to be observed among the business at the docks. Don’t do anything outlandish, focus on the rod and water, and every so often, cast and recast, and blend in. Few would notice a ragged-looking peasant woman in a frayed and old-fashioned sugata, and fewer would care. The common folk of Hingashi were much like those of Doma in their desire not to trouble themselves with what did not concern them. She appreciated that.

Beside her, Ryūsai was trying, and failing, to avoid outlandishness. He’d made the effort to blend in, trading his robes for a cheap outfit from the shops, one so bland and grey she felt inclined to ask after the tailor. The failure was in his reaction beside her. She’d delivered the prints to him for review as planned but his loss of composure was not: From the corner of her eye, she could see his curiosity change to revulsion as he flipped between each thin piece of parchment in the pack. By the third one, his mouth was half-open and his brow had knit in upon itself in disgust, lip curling up his and hiding his thin mustache, and by the fifth he looked as if he might retch.

Wordlessly, she took one hand off of her rod to place it on his left shoulder. It wouldn’t do if he dropped them the goods off of the pier. He didn’t bother looking through the rest of the papers in detail, simply packing them back up with shaking fingers and placing them back in their case. “It’s perverse,” he said, his voice trembling to match his hands, which carefully tied a set of twine string and wrapping paper back into place around the set.

Suzume shrugged, drawing back her fishing rod. “It’s art.”

“It’s sick. How could you stand to see it?” “I didn’t look for long.” She had seen worse in the Resistance, but there was no point in mocking Ryūsai for his reaction. Suzume envied his disgust; when she had reviewed each piece of the set, in detail, she had felt an anger, a tightening of her chest and a desire to strike the artist that she still suppressed. She would gladly have traded that for disgust. “But they work, don’t they?”

“I don’t see how they won’t get a reaction, no,” said Ryūsai. “Put them in the right places with the right people and the Enclave will have no end of complaints. It’s a small set, though, so we’ll have to be careful.”

“What do you mean, small?” Suzume tipped her head just far enough to get a better look at him, her mouth twisting to the side in irritation. “The artist said the same thing, but that’s nine-hundred pages.” “Right, and they’re nine to a set, so you have a hundred sets. That’s not bad, but it’s mass distribution. And the people who use these most, they hide them away. It’ll work for a test run, and that’s what we asked, but soon enough we’ll need ten times this many.”

“Oh.” She looked away from Ryūsai, keeping her eyes fixed on the water. “I thought he was trying to gouge me.”

“...Did you tell him that?” Ryūsai asked, but Suzume didn’t respond. He turned his head and bent forward to look her in the eye, causing her to twist her face farther and farther to the left to avoid his gaze. He gave up when looking any further would risk him tumbling off of the pier. “Do I have to apologize for you?”

“No.” Her sigh was soft and exasperated, and some chatter on the pier behind them, and the call of a ferryman looking for passengers, filled the silence. “Maybe.” “If he’ll still take our money, I’ll check with him after the test run. I meant to see how he block prints anyhow, or get something designed.”

“Fine. When you see him.” Suzume’s lip curled and nose twisted in frustration. Without warning, her head fell to the side, landing on Ryūsai’s shoulder and loosening the ill-kempt bun that tied up her hair. “I want to see her again,” she murmured.

“You’ll see her soon, you know that.” Ryūsai’s shoulders tensed, and he continued looking straight ahead. His voice dropped to match hers; the moment she had made her request, secrecy trumped the need to blend in. “It won’t be much longer.” “You see her all the time. It’s been weeks for me.”

“Not as often as you say,” he replied. Suzume kicked the side of the pier with her feet in response. “I know, it’s tough. You have the worst job. Somebody has to keep an eye on things here. Please, endure it.”

“We don’t endure.” Her reply was sharp and icy, and Ryūsai flinched, seeming to regret his choice of words. “Stay in my place,” she continued. “Just for a few days. I’ll deliver the prints and come back right after.”

“Right after, of course.” Ryusai placed a hand in the folds of his kimono. Shortly after, a small card passed from his hand to Suzume’s, that of a bright, white full moon on a red background over a dark hillside. She was quicker with her hands when she placed its identical counterpart in his palm.

“Thank you.” She lifted her head from Ryūsai’s shoulder, and looked back at her fishing pole. “Why didn’t you bring your own, anyway?”

“Was I supposed to? I thought we were only making the exchange.” “We were, and we did. You can’t just get up and walk away right after, though, that’s suspicious. Here,” She passed the cheap bamboo rod into Ryūsai’s hands. “Just cast for a little while. Anyway, you still look a little pale, it’ll take your mind off of things. Please, just end - “ She stopped herself mid-sentence, and Ryūsai gave her a wry smile. It was a difficult phrase to overcome, beaten into both of them as citizens of Doma.

“We don’t endure,” he said. “But it’s a nice day. Show me how to use this.”

[deans-baby-momma]

Law & Love Chapter 3

THEN

Y/N it's not what you think. Please call me (406)321-5879

NOW

I don’t call him when I clock out. I don't call him while I take a cab home. In fact, I don't call him at all. 

I am angry! Angry at myself for letting him in and angry at him for asking me out when he is clearly unavailable. 

I don't know how they do stuff here in Montana but I was raised to be faithful and true.  That's probably why I endured Eric's lack of attention and overlooked his cheating for so long.

Yes, I knew my boyfriend was out fucking anything with a vagina almost weekly. I discovered it when I found a hotel receipt in his pocket. 

I did a little amateur sleuthing and found out that he had used that certain hotel for years. He had an open account with the seedy fleabag accommodations; he paid after the use of their room, usually with cash that I still didn't know where it came from. So, I tolerated his cheating and laziness because that's what I was taught to do. 

But now? Now was different. I am not that same girl I was then. I was aware of the obscenity of the world and knew very few people abided by the 'old ways'.

So, I'm not about to let some philandering womanizer get the best of me. He cannot have his cake and eat it too! 

It’s been a few days since the sheriff and his girlfriend/wife/whatever had visited the diner and I was ever so grateful. I didn’t want to see his cheating, conniving face at all! Everytime I thought about the audacity he had to ask me out when he was clearly taken, my blood pressure skyrocketed. The nerve of him! The gall to manipulate the situation to his advantage was mind boggling. 

After the lunch rush was over, I set about getting the remaining tables and chairs back into their proper order when the bell rang and someone stepped in. I smile as I see who I know now is a regular at this time of the day, Joey. Joey would come in when the rush was over and keep Deb and I amused with his stories of different things. He seems to be a nice guy who lived alone and simply desired social interaction.

I smile at him as he walks to his usual spot and settles in. Deb writes up his normal order. As I pass by headed to the kitchen, Joey smiles and speaks. “You look nice today, Y/n.”

“Thanks Joey.”

Deb and I listen to Joey as he regales about the time his uncle took him and his cousins fishing at Park Lake Campground, southwest of town.

"So, here we were standing alongside the lake. We could practically see the fish swimming around, waiting for us to throw our lines in. Marco and Luis were baiting their hooks as ole Uncle Paul was sliding the earthworm onto mine.  He didn't trust me not to try to eat the lure." He pauses as Deb and I give him a look of disgust. He laughs and continues.

"Ladies, I was 4 years old okay! I probably would've tried to eat it," he laughs. "Anyway, he gets the hook ready and hands me the pole. I watch my cousins cast their line out into the water so I pull back and throw……hook, line, sinker and pole. It floats on the water for a second before it sinks. Uncle P starts yelling and running toward the water. No one caught anything that day."

The bell over the door rings and a woman walks in with a brown paper bag with handles. There is no writing on the nondescript back. She smiles at us and asks for Y/N. I groan as I realize exactly what that means.

The fucking sheriff has sent me another goddamn gift. I mask my irritation and I step forward with a smile and take the bag.

Inside is a stuffed animal. I pull it out to see it's a gray squirrel holding an acorn in its paws. On the acorn are the words "NUTS FOR YOU".

Yea, he's nuts if he thinks I'm going to keep accepting his little gifts and trinkets. Not when he's a two-timing jerk!

I stuff the stuffed animal back in the bag and take it in the back room, where we keep our personal items.

After my shift, I'm making a pitstop at the Sheriff's office and putting an end to his treacherous ways, once and for all!

The taxi driver can tell I’m on a mission as soon as I slide into the backseat and utter, “Take me to the sheriff’s office.”

As we pull up outside of Helena P.D. I can see the red truck that I know belongs to the sheriff sitting alongside the other cop cars in the lot. I can’t help but sneer at it as I pay the cabbie and exit the vehicle.

I open the door to the building and am met immediately with the smell of donuts and coffee. I want to laugh at  the plain and simple stereotype of it all but before I can even twitch my lips, I look through and see Sheriff Arlen and his companion through the glass that divides the front of the station with what is apparently his office. They are both smiling and talking and I see him throw his head back and laugh at what she just said.

“Can I help you?” 

I bring my focus back to the front to see the same officer that had come to collect the sheriff and his companion that day at the diner; the day I realized just what a swindler the man in charge is.

“I need to speak to the Sheriff, if you can pull the lovebirds apart,” I jeer. The man looks at me questioningly and goes to open his mouth but evidently Beau has noticed my presence and comes out of the room.

“Y/N?” he calls as he approaches, a smile on his face. What the fuck is he smiling for? Does he not realize I know what a fraud he is?  His ‘whatever she is’ is standing right there behind him, leaning against the door frame of his office. Her arms are crossed over her front and her head is sort of cocked to the side. Does she know who I am? Does she know he asked me out when he is obviously involved with her? Why is she not fuming? Why does she look as if she could care less?

Beau finally gets to the front desk and he nods at the officer who was still standing there. “I got this Popcorn.”

‘Popcorn’ nods and heads back to his desk.

“What’re you doing here?” the Sheriff asks. “Having more troubles?”

I clear my throat and straighten my stance as I pull the brown gift bag from my purse. I reach inside and grab the stuffed animal and remove it. I look at it one more time before I lift it and throw it right in his face. 

“I don’t want your stupid gifts! I don’t want anything to do with you! How dare you try to take advantage of me in my time of need! You’re a fucking asshole and a cheat! Fuck. You!”

I turn to leave but not before I notice the look of confusion on the sheriff’s face.  As I push the door open, I hear his voice. “Y/N! Wait!”

@lostinaseaoffictionalbliss @spnbaby-67 @tftumblin @sea040561 @delightfullykrispypeach @larajadeschmidt13 @atc74 @vicariouslythruspn @squirrelnotsam  @sandlee44 @blacktithe7 @hoboal87 @mogaruke @deanwanddamons @supraveng @deandreamernp @akshi8278 @lyarr24 @kazsrm67 @chriszgirl92 @fanfic-n-tabulous

[depravitymoon]

Bruno x Reader Valentine's Special One-Shot

((Author's Note: Oh boy, oh boy, if this wasn't extremely late! This was sitting in my drafts for awhile because I was trying to be a perfectionist. So here's a simple wholesome one shot for y'all.))

You have no clue how your Nonna pulled this off. You were fine with this Valentine’s Day blind date set up. After all, you wanted to try dating again, and she promised your date wouldn't be some unhinged ‘sigma’ neckbeard. What you weren't expecting was to come face-to-face with the local Prince Charming. Bruno Buccellati was like Italy’s most eligible bachelor. How did Nonna drag him into this?!

As you sat across from Bruno in the seafood restaurant, you tried to focus on the conversation. But your mind was racing. You couldn't believe you were on a date with Bruno Buccellati of all people.

You realized you had spaced out as Bruno called your name. "Sorry Signor Bucceriati! I have a lot on my mind! It won't happen again!" you blurted out, feeling embarrassed.

He gave you a gentle smile. "No need to be formal. Bruno is just fine," he said reassuringly.

"Oh okay… Bruno!" You giggled nervously, feeling your face turn red.

You excused yourself to go to the bathroom, hoping to compose yourself. When you returned to the table, you found that Bruno had ordered a bottle of wine and two glasses.

He poured you a glass and raised his glass in a toast. "Here's to a great evening," he said with a smile.

You clinked your glass against his and took a sip of the wine. It was delicious, and you felt yourself relaxing.

"Is everything okay?" he asked with a concerned look.

You took a deep breath, "I'm sorry. I just can't believe I'm on a date with you. You're like Italy's most eligible bachelor!" you admitted.

Bruno chuckled. "Well, I'm just a regular guy, really. But I'm flattered you think so highly of me."

You smiled, feeling a little more at ease.  You talked about your interests, your family, and your favorite books and movies. As the night went on, you found yourself enjoying Bruno's company more and more. He had such witty and interesting responses.

"My father, Paolo, was a fisherman," he said, "and when I was a kid, he used to take me out on his boat." You notice eyes ultramarine eyes lit up.

Bruno continued, "It's one of my fondest memories. We'd spend hours out on the water, just the two of us. He taught me how to bait a hook and cast a line. We'd talk about everything and anything, and I loved every minute of it."

"That sounds really nice," you said with a smile.

"It was. My father passed away a few years ago, but I still feel his presence every time I'm near the ocean," Bruno said with a touch of sadness in his voice.

"I've never been fishing before," you admitted.

"Really? We should go sometime. I'm sure you'd love it," Bruno suggested.

You smiled at the thought of going fishing with Bruno. "I'd like that."

As the night wore on, you found yourself getting lost in conversation with Bruno. He was so charming and easy to talk to. You definitely needed to give nonna a special gift for there birthday for this pleasant surprise.

[allfandomxreader]

Back to You | 3

Pairings: Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Summary: Eight months ago, you swore you would never step foot in Hawkins again. When Robin begs for you to come home for spring break, you find yourself agreeing despite better judgment. You’ve missed everyone, you could endure one more week in Hawkins if that means you can see your friends again.

Words: 8.5k sorry

Part: 3/9

Warnings: Language, alluded depression and anxiety, I think that’s it?? 

A/N: ahhh I just love this series so much and I have been DYING to write episode 4 so I will start on it asap. This part is loosely edited sorry but I’d love to know your thoughts and opinions on it so far :)) 

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist  

You slam the door to your childhood bedroom cringing at the loud bang it sends throughout the home out of habit. Your mother’s shifts changed from morning to night in the early years of middle school. She griped for months about needing her rest during the day. You grew accustomed to tiptoeing and whispering around the house in an effort to make your presence unknown. You learned how to make your own meals and set the table for one at a young age.

Sure, in high school it made things easier. You never had to sneak out or people in. She never bothered to ask about where you were going or whom you were going with. Curfews didn’t exist in your household and because of that, fellow classmates said they envied you. You didn’t tell them how she never came to science fairs or spelling bees, and that you stopped asking her to come to any event because you already knew her answer. Maybe that’s why you were adamant about supporting the kids. You’d be the first to volunteer to drive them to or from. You always sat front row in the audience at whatever it was they were doing. You knew how it felt to look into a crowd of faces and nobody was there to cheer you on.

You always wished it had been different. You couldn’t help but wonder how life would’ve been if she were present. Steve understood this, his own lack of parental guidance started around the same time. You often wondered if loneliness was the foundation of your friendship. You would find yourself on his doorstep when the silence of your house grew too loud at night. He’d spend weeks at a time sleeping on your bedroom floor when his parents went on vacation and he wasn’t invited. The two of you always had each other.

Six weeks into the first semester of college your mom took another job. An almost constant 9-5, no weekends, no holidays. You felt like you had been ripped in two at the news. She missed the most crucial years of your life and as soon as they were over, she could finally be the mother you needed. It’s been hard trying not to hold it against her.

Your body deflates with a sigh of relief at the emptiness of the house. You rush towards the living room, throwing your backpack strap over your shoulder with haste. Picture frames clatter to the floor, glass shattering onto the hardwood.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” You grumble. You’re already running late. Everyone decided to meet at the corner of Shirly Street at ten o’clock sharp to check on Eddie. You didn’t mean to oversleep, and you definitely didn’t mean to knock down pieces of your mom’s beloved memory wall. It was only for show of course, at least to you. Documentation that she was there when it mattered, even then, it never felt like enough.

Delicately, you pick up the photos, careful not to cut yourself on glass. Staring back at you were two children with toothy grins. You were ten at the time, Steve had just turned eleven. His arm was thrown around you and you held a fish in the air, proudness written across your features. It was the only thing you caught that whole vacation all those summers ago. Steve argued for years that it was technically his fish; he was the one who baited your hook after all. You’re certain he’d still argue that point if it were brought up today.

Your mother always adored Steve. He had her wrapped around his finger ever since he walked you home from the bus stop after the first day of kindergarten. Even after what he did eight months ago, she still believed he could do no wrong. In her letters, she’d update you on his life despite your pleading for her to stop. You reminded her that you didn’t care, deep down, you think both of you knew that was a lie. It was always small things of course; she was only ever informed through their conversations while she rented a movie or when running into him at the supermarket. On the rare occasion when she called, she’d ask if he wrote before hanging up the phone. The answer was always no.

You shouldn’t have been surprised to see Steve hanging proudly on the wall, there was almost as much of him as there was of you. You hadn’t realized until now just how inseparable the two of you truly were. It only made sense that he was present in so many moments frozen in time, he was a big part of your life, maybe the biggest. Even so, you wish your mother would take them all down.

You place the first picture back in its rightful spot, kicking the glass toward the wall and out of the way. It’s crooked but you decide to straighten it later, you don’t want to keep the others waiting longer than they had to. You quickly grab the second frame, lazily hanging it back on its nail.

Your breath hitches as you step away. It was the last picture the two of you took together, one you thought your mom never got developed. Steve stood behind you with his arms awkwardly wrapped around your waist, careful not to crush the corsage on your wrist. It was the nicest either of you had been dressed up.

You didn’t want to go to prom. The first time Steve asked you to be his date you laughed. You didn’t understand the appeal of it all. The thought of spending an evening in a gym that’s too hot in a dress too tight was not by any means your ideal night. The second time prom was mentioned he promised it wouldn’t be lame, that he’d try to make it the best night of your life. The third time, he told you that he just wanted to be normal, to go to a shitty high school dance and see his girlfriend in a fancy dress. You finally relented.  

Back then, Steve was true to his word. He had bought your favorite flowers, requested your favorite song, and spun you around on the dance floor until you were dizzy. He didn’t take his eyes off you the whole evening. He had a way of making you feel like the only girl in the world. It wasn’t the first time the two of you had danced together, no, that happened the year prior. To this day, that was the best night of your life.

Max stood on the pavement before you, rocking back and forth on her heels. It wasn’t often that you saw her nervous, quite frankly, you thought she wasn’t capable of that emotion. And yet, there she was, biting her lip and twiddling with her fingers.

“Do we really have to do this?” She groaned.

“I know, I know. I’m sorry, but I promised your mom I’d get at least one picture of you.” You lifted the polaroid to your eye, centering the lens onto her. “Can you at least look like you’re not in pain?” She rolled her eyes and forced a smile, squinting when the flash went off. You hoped it’d be good enough for Susan, you knew Max wouldn’t let you take another. “Now was that so hard?”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. I’ll see you later.”

“Oh, wait, before I forget.” You dug into your jean pocket and pulled out your lucky tube of strawberry-flavored lip gloss. “I brought this for you.” Her eyes grew wide as she took it. She complimented it the night before while you practiced her makeup for the dance. You had told her that it was your secret weapon, that every time you wore it you ended up kissing a cute boy.

“Think it’ll work?” She asked, applying a thin layer.

“Only one way to find out.” You laughed. She tried to pass it back to you, but you only shook your head. “Keep it, it’s yours.” With one last smile, you jerked your head toward the school. “Knock ‘em dead.” She grinned before she spun around and jogged away. “I’ll pick you up at 9:30!” You called after her. She flashed a thumbs-up behind her, not bothering to turn around before she reached the school doors.

“They grow up fast, don’t they?” You heard Steve’s voice and the rumble of his car beside you. Your body froze. You thought you had a few more days before you had to see him again. You weren’t planning on seeing him here, the middle school parking lot was the last place you expected him to be that night. “Guess we’re both on babysitting duty tonight, huh?” It hadn’t occurred to you that Dustin would ask Steve to drive him. You would’ve been lying to yourself if you said that hadn’t stung.

“She’s nervous” was all you could say, “just trying to make it a little better.” You willed yourself to face him. He stared at you through his open window, smiling when he caught your eye. You thought he looked as handsome as ever in that maroon sweater you always loved, and you kicked yourself for it. Without a word, you watched him pull into the empty spot next to your car and hop out.

“Hi,” he said once he stood in front of you. He was so close you could smell his cologne. “Long time no see.”

“Yeah, I guess it has been a while.”

“Thought you might’ve been avoiding me.” He forced a chuckle, but his eyes pled for you to reassure him otherwise.

“I’m not avoiding you, Steve.” You were. You were still scorned by his actions from Halloween, but by then that night had become an afterthought. You knew it was a stupid grudge to hold onto, especially since everything that happened with the Mindflayer the month before. Even in the midst of that, you saw how he looked at Nancy every time she came into his view. His yearning for her was evident through the way he talked and the way he moved. It was painful to be around almost twenty-four-seven for a week straight. On the nights he called, he only spoke of her, spilling his heart out to you while you listened with tears in your eyes.

The pain that came with loving Steve Harrington almost consumed you. You needed space, you needed time to grieve a relationship that never happened, to move on. So, you kept him at arm’s length. You ignored his calls here and there and made up excuses to not hang out. You weren’t sure what hurt more, being there to pick up the broken pieces of his heart or not being there at all.

“I’ve missed you.” He admitted sheepishly.

“Missed you too.” There was a beat of awkward silence that hung in the air. “I should probably get going.” You said finally. You noticed the frown that tugged on his lips before he spoke.

“Well no, wait, what are you doing right now? We could go grab dinner or watch a movie back at my place before they need to be picked up.” He offered.

“No, that’s okay. I was just gonna wait here and read until it let out, I have a feeling she’ll want to leave early. Wouldn’t want to make her wait in the cold.” Another lie.

“I’ll wait with you then. Who says the babysitters can’t have some fun of their own?” Before you could protest, he offered his hand out to you. “May I have this dance?”

“We can’t even hear the music out here.” You laughed. He ran to his car quickly, turning up the radio until you could hear the vocals bleed out from the windows. “Problem solved.” He said walking back to you, his hand still outstretched. With an eye roll, you placed your hand into his and he pulled you close. You swayed in the parking lot in silence. You had missed his sporadic ideas, the comfortableness in the quiet, but above all, you truly missed him.

“Look, I know I haven’t been the bestest of friends to you lately,” he began. You could hear his heartbeat quicken under the fabric of his shirt. “I don’t know what happened, it’s like ever since Nancy I completely pushed you onto the sidelines and I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to, I just got so wrapped up in trying to be the best I could be and…” He trailed off and shook his head as if to rid the words on his tongue. “I feel like I don’t even know you anymore and that’s completely my fault. I just hope you’ll forgive me someday.”

“It’s okay, Steve.” Was all you managed to say, your words muffled by his shoulder. As much as all of that hurt, you just wanted your friend back.

“It’s really, really not, and I know that.” He chuckled but there was no humor behind his laugh. “Could we just start over? Pretend that I haven’t been a complete loser of a best friend for the past year?” You pulled away from his embrace to look at him fully. His eyes searched your face trying to read your features. Even after the things you’ve been through together, he never looked quite as scared as he did at that moment.

“I don’t ever want to start over with you, Steve. We can pick up right where we left off.” You said with a smile. The look of relief washed over him, his muscles relaxed in your arms.

“You have no idea how happy I am to hear that.” He whispered and pulled you into him tighter. Your breath was knocked out of your lungs when you realized how close the two of you were standing. His eyes darted from your own to your lips. He slowly leaned in. His eyelids fluttered closed.

“What are you doing?” You snapped, shoving his body away from you.

“Oh, come on,” Steve groaned, “don’t act like you haven’t thought about it.” You scoffed, shaking your head. Your blood boiled as you looked at him.

“I have thought about it every day for the past year and a half, Steve. I have wanted nothing more than for us to finally be together but not like this. I’m not ruining fifteen years of friendship just because you’re lonely.” You spat. “I know you’re hurting right now after Nancy and I’m sorry, but you do not get to use me to fill that void. I will do a lot of things for you, but I won’t do this. I’m not going to be second best to her anymore, and I’m certainly not going to be her rebound.”

“You think you’re second best?” His voice was softer than before. He stepped forward, running his hands through his hair in frustration. “I think I have been in love with you since we were eight years old.” You stopped breathing. You swore your heart was going to beat out of your chest. “It took me so long to finally realize it and by the time I did, you were flirting with Thomas Morrison or Craig Tolliver. I never thought we’d get the timing right but we’re here now and I don’t want to waste another second not being with you.”

“You love me?” You said breathlessly.

“God, I am so in love with you it’s almost unbearable.” He laughed, taking steps to reach you. “And I know I’m not the greatest person and I haven’t always done right by you, but I promise, cross my heart and hope to die, you have never been second best.” When he said it, no matter how hard you looked for a sign of dishonestly, you only found sincerity behind his eyes. “Can I kiss you now?” And you could only nod.

Loud bangs on the front door pull you out of the past and back into the present. You shake your head to rid the memory as you move towards the sound. Dustin, Robin, Max, and Steve all stand on your porch. You look at them in confusion before checking your watch. You still had five minutes before the designated meeting time.

“Change of plans, we’re raiding your fridge,” Dustin says with a grin. You step aside to let the group in, Max following Dustin toward the kitchen.

“Dingus here thought it’d look suspicious if someone saw us all buying groceries,” Robin explains with an eye roll but continues down the same path after them.

“It would!” Dustin shouts already tearing through your mother’s cabinets. “Anything off limits?” he asks, peaking his head out from behind oak to look at you.

“Uh, no, help yourself.” You say. You’ll tell your mom you’re stocking up for your apartment, she won’t bat an eye. You turn to Steve who still lingers in the doorway. He looked at ease taking in the familiarity of your home, almost nothing had changed since the last time he had been inside. He looks like he belongs here.

“Sorry,” he says, finally looking your way. “He wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

“It’s fine.” You sigh, pursing your lips together. Steve’s head tilts in confusion looking you up and down.

“Is that my sweater?” He asks staring at the maroon fabric that hangs off your limbs.

“No,” it is. It was the one you wore each night you found yourself sleeping beside him. You finally stole a few months into dating. At first, it was a keepsake, a reminder of the night when your love story finally began. You’ve had it for so long now it lost his scent and the memory of him went with it. You had forgotten it never belonged to you in the first place. “I do have my own wardrobe these days.”

He doesn’t get the opportunity to respond before the others join you back in the room, each of them holding a bag full of food. “Okay, now we’re ready to roll.” Dustin states and leads the rest of you outside and to Steve’s car.

Dustin gives no warning as he kicks the door to Eddie’s hideaway open. You flinch at the sound, too paranoid that someone lurking in the woods will see you out there. Even though Reefer Rick’s abode resides in the middle of nowhere, the main road is still too close for comfort.

“Delivery service.” Dustin says trudging through the doorway. You spot the broken bottle clutched in Eddie’s hand. His fingers are wound so tight around the glass that his knuckles are white. He relaxes at the sight of the five of you, his breathing already starting to slow as he makes his way to Dustin, snatching the bag of food out of his grasp and taking a seat inside the boat.

“So, we got, uh, some good news and some bad news. How do you prefer it?” Dustin’s voice is cautious as he begins.

“Bad news first, always.” Eddie says between mouthfuls of Honeycombs.

“Alright, bad news. We tapped into the Hawkins PD dispatch with our Cerebro, and they’re definitely looking for you. Also, they’re uh, pretty convinced you killed Chrissy.” Dustin continues.

“Like, 100% kind of convinced.” Max chimes.

“And the good news?” Eddie asks, looking between the two youngest.

“Your name hasn’t gone public yet. But if we found out about you it’s only a matter of time before others do too and once that gets out, everyone and their shallow-minded mother is gonna be gunning for you.”

“Hunt the freak right?” Eddie asks, staring off into the distance.

“Exactly.” Robin finishes.

“Shit.” Eddie mumbles. Your heart breaks for him. You wish more than anything that this could all be over, that you could put your days of saving the world behind you. As much as you hate it, you don’t care that you’re up against an unknown creature again, at this point you should be used to it. You’ve made peace with the fact that your life is forever tainted by the Upsidedown, it’s taken everything from you already you don’t have much else to lose. Eddie doesn’t deserve this though, and neither did Chrissy. You wish that they both could’ve been left out, blissfully unaware of what grows in Hawkins beneath them.

“So, before that happens, we need to find Vecna, kill him, and prove your innocence.”

“That’s all, Dustin? That’s all?” Eddie snaps.

“Yeah, no, that’s pretty much it.” Even you roll your eyes at that.

“Listen, Eddie,” Robin sighs, “I know everything Dustin is saying sounds totally delusional, but we’ve actually been through this kind of thing before. I mean, they have a–a few times,” Robin rambles. Eddie’s eyes lock with yours, softening as she speaks. “And—and I have once. Mine was more human-flesh-based and theirs was more smoke-related, but bottom line is, collectively, I really feel like we got this.” Robin smiles.

“Yeah see, we rely on this girl with superpowers, but, uh, those went bye-bye so, uh,” Steve trails off.

“So, we’re technically in, in more of the—" Robin moves her hands looking for the right word to finish her thoughts.

“The brainstorming phase.” Max nods.

“Brainstorming.” Everyone agrees.

“There’s, there’s nothing to worry about.” Dustin tries his best to be reassuring but he’s never been a good liar. Eddie looks at you then, you stand a little straighter under his gaze.

“You’ve been quiet.” Eddie points out, everyone’s attention lands on you.

“It’s nothing.” You shrug.

“Look, I know I’m new to this whole thing, but I’d like to know the full picture, at least most of it, the good and bad.” Eddie pleads.

“It’s just this is so different. Yes, we’ve been through this kind of thing before but not like this. We’ve dealt with possession and weird slimy dogs, and–and Russian labs. This feels so much bigger. And we’ve always had El, she has saved us every single time, how do we do this without her?” You look at your friends, each of their faces crumbling at your words. They know you’re right. “And whatever it is, it wants to be known, it’s not hiding anymore. It’s not taking people and killing them in the Upsidedown, it’s out in the open. It’s not contained in one spot like the lab or the mall so how do we know where it’ll be? And let’s say we do kill it, even though the entire town isn’t looking at Eddie a few people are. How do we convince them without telling the truth? They won’t believe anything we say about what we know.”  

Before anyone could answer sirens blare in the distance. Everyone scrambles at the sound. “Tarp,” Robin exclaims, “Tarp, tarp!” You hear the rustling of Eddie disguising himself as the rest of you run toward the window. Your heart races watching the cars. You can see it now, they’ll turn into the driveway, and one group will search the house while the other searches the boat house. They’ll find Eddie, place him in cuffs and take him to the station. They’ll take the five of you there too, questioning you for hours until inevitably, you’re behind bars as accomplices.

They all keep driving, not giving this place a single thought. Even though you’re relieved, you know it’s not a good sign.

“Let’s go,” Steve says, keys already in hand. Eddie’s head pokes out from under the tarp at the commotion.

“You’re safe for now, don’t leave until we get back!” You say, running after them and into Steve’s car once again. Steve drive’s through the backroads quickly, an eerie silence settles in the air.

“What do you think it is?” Dustin asks quietly from the other end of the backseat. He bounces his knee while staring out the window.

“Someone else is dead.” You say. You don’t have the energy to sugarcoat it.

“How do you know?” Max whispers, though deep down you think she knows it too.

“Because the last time I saw that many first responders was Starcourt,” Max gulps beside you, still haunted by the memory. Maybe you should’ve sugarcoated it. “And the time before that was when Pastor John had his stroke two years ago. This is too much of a coincidence to need that many people. Someone else was murdered.”

“I hope you’re not right about this.” Steve glances at you from the rearview mirror.

“Yeah, yeah me too.” Was all you could say before looking back out the window.

“Holy shit is that…” Steve mumbles pulling the car to a halt. All of you pile out of the car, taking in the scene. Nancy Wheeler stands in the midst of it all surrounded by police. Her face brightens at the sight of everyone. She offers a small wave, forcing a smile.

You lean on Steve’s car, all of you in silence watching her movements from a distance. You see Chief Powell flip his notebook shut. A lump forms in your throat as you take in the beige uniform, the one you’ve grown used to seeing Hopper in over the years. The constant reminder of the people you have lost is growing more unbearable by the second. With a final nod, Powell releases her from his questioning. She walks with her head down, clenching her fists together as she makes her way toward you.

“What are you guys doing here?” She says standing before the group. She looks each of you over waiting for someone’s answer.

“What are you doing here?” Steve responds. You watch as Nancy gulps, looking at the pavement before speaking.

“Fred was killed.” She whispers, unable to look anyone in the eye. “He was right there, and then he was just gone.” She shakes her head, trying to understand how it happened. You know she’s already blaming herself. Nobody knows how to fill in the silence.

“Shit,” Dustin mumbles. “I’m assuming that’s not a coincidence.”

“What do you mean?” Nancy looks up then.

“We should probably go somewhere a little more private to explain.” Dustin nods to the police, already making his way back into Steve’s BMW.

“I have to get my car, it’s back at the trailer park,” Nancy trails off, glancing at the five of you. “And it looks like you guys are out of room… I’ll walk back and then I can meet you anywhere.”

“I’ll walk with you,” you blurt. “I need some air anyway.”

“Whoa, another person just died out here and you just want to skip through the woods right now?” Steve asks looking between the two of you.

“Not like we really have another option.” You shrug. “We’ve fought off literal monsters, I think we can handle a two-minute walk, Steve.”

“I just don’t like the idea of you out there all alone.” Steve sighs, shoving his hands into his jeans.

“Since when do you care about sending me places alone?” You snap, unable to stop the words before they came. Steve’s face falls, heat rising to his cheeks out of anger.

“That’s not fair.” He bites back.

“Isn’t it?” You cock your head to the side, waiting for him to argue.

“You know what, forget I said anything.” He throws his hands into the air. “If you end up dead, that’s on you.” He seethes, yanking the door to the car open and throwing himself inside. You wince hearing the slam echo through the trees. Robin shoots you a glare before getting in herself. Steve starts the engine, his tires screeching as he peels off down the road.

Awkwardness settles over you and Nancy as you begin the short journey. You didn’t mean for an argument to happen, especially not in front of everyone. You really are trying to keep things civil between the two of you for Robin’s sake, Dustin’s too. You can’t help it, you’re already on edge, and being around Steve only made it worse.

“Sorry you had to see that.” You say. You don’t know why you felt the need to apologize, maybe it was out of embarrassment, or maybe you just want someone to be on your side.

“Don’t be, I totally get it.” The two of you are quiet again, only the sounds of your shoes scuffing the concrete fill the air. “I heard about what happened.” She says softly, as if asking permission to continue. Surprisingly, you’re relieved at the news. Even after all these months, you’re still not ready to tell the world what happened from your point of view. You’d rather them assume, to hear through the grapevine and write their own conclusions than relive your heartache. “It was fucked up. You’re allowed to still be angry.”

“Thank you, I needed that.” You say with a smile. Her words are nice to hear, you just wanted someone to justify your feelings, to be given the space where you don’t have to pretend that being around him isn’t sucking the life out of you.

“You know, I always thought the two of you would get married straight after graduation. Even when we were together, I never understood why he wasn’t with you.” She admits with a shrug. “When the word got out, I couldn’t believe it,” she shakes her head, “Still can’t. I don’t know how you’ve held it together so well.”

“Believe me, I am far from holding it together.” You admit.

“Oh, of course, I’m just saying if it were me,” she sucks in a breath, “I would’ve egged his house, or keyed his car, put Nair in his shampoo, something.” this makes you laugh. “You’ve always been good at that though, never showing weakness I mean.”

“I definitely thought about it, but it wouldn’t have made me feel any better.” The two of you are venturing into new territory, you’ve never talked about anything beyond surface level, and you’ve certainly never talked about Steve. “How are you and Jonathon?” You ask, desperate to think about something else other than your past.

“We’re good.” Her pitch changes but she says nothing else.

“Real convincing.”

“Honestly?” She sighs, “I don’t know how we are. He was supposed to visit over break but bailed at the last second and wouldn’t give me a real reason why.” Nancy folds her arms around herself as she talks.

“What the fuck?”

“I know, that’s weird right?” You nod in agreement. “And he’s been so distant lately and I don’t know if it’s because he’s nervous about his acceptance letter or if it’s the distance or if he’s found some other girl out there or what.”

“Have you talked to him about this?”

“I’ve tried but he always brushes it off, he’ll give one of his typical Jonathon excuses then hang up the phone. Now he won’t even answer.”

“That’s bullshit, I’m sorry.” You try to think of something better to say, to help comfort her in the same way she did you. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think he’s found someone else. There’s nobody better for him than Nancy Wheeler and he’s known that from the moment you got together. And if he has, fuck that and fuck him.” She chuckles giving a slight nod. “I’m sure he’s just scared. Everything has changed so quickly, and it’ll change even more once you both graduate. But right now, he’s supposed to be here and he’s not and I know how much that sucks. You don’t have to pretend to not be upset, not around me at least.” For the first time since you’ve started walking, you look at each other.

“I wish we could’ve been better friends,” she admits. “I feel like we’ve never had a chance to really talk.”

“Never too late to start.” Each of you smile, yet again bonding over pain.

“There they are.” She nods to the group of four, all of them sitting at a lone picnic table. Dustin waves at the sight of the two of you emerging down the path.

You slide into the edge seat next to Dustin, Nancy sits across from you as they fill her in on what you know. You can feel the tension in the air that falls over the six of you. Nobody can look you in the eye. Maybe you shouldn’t have snapped.

“So, you’re saying that this thing that killed Fred and Chrissy, it’s from the upside down?” Nancy asks, trying to process the new information.

“If the shoe fits.” Steve mumbles.

“Our working theory is that he attacks with a spell. Or curse?” Dustin explains. “Now, whether or not he’s doing the bidding of the Mind Flayer or just loves killing teens, we don’t know.”

“It’s like Y/N said earlier, this is something different. Something new.” Max says.

“Doesn’t make sense.” Nancy shakes her head.

“It’s only a theory.” Dustin tries.

“No, Fred and Chrissy don’t make sense. I mean, why them?” Nancy questions.

“Maybe they were just in the wrong place. They were both at the game.” Dustin shrugs.

“And near the trailer park.” Max adds.

“We’re at the trailer park.” Everyone looks at the surroundings at Steve’s words. “Uh, should we maybe not be here?”

“There is something about this place. Fred started acting weird the second we got here.” Nancy says. You can tell she’s reliving their final moments in her head, slowly piecing things together.

“Acting weird as in...?” Robin trails off.

“Scared, on edge, upset.” Nancy lists.

“Max said Chrissy was upset too.” Dustin says.

“Yeah, but not here. She was crying in the bathroom at school.”

“Serial killers stalk their prey before they strike, right? So, maybe Fred and Chrissy saw this Vecman—" Robin begins.

“Vecna.” Dustin corrects.

“I don’t know about you guys but if I saw some freaky wizard monster, I’d mention it to someone.” Steve looks around the group at his confession.

“Maybe they did. I saw Chrissy leaving Ms. Kelley’s office. If you saw a monster, you –you wouldn’t go to the police. They’d never believe you.” Max explains, “But you might go to your—”

“Your shrink.” Robin finishes. Max nods in her direction.

“Let’s talk to Ms. Kelley and see what she knows.” Max says, throwing her legs over the bench to stand.

“That’s completely violating patient privacy,” you say following her lead. “She’s not going to tell you anything.”

“Better than nothing, which is what we have right now.” she shrugs.

Everyone marches toward the cars in silence lost in thought. Nancy breaks from the group first, heading to her own vehicle.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, Nance!” Steve calls after her. “Where are you going?”

“There’s just something I want to check on first,” she waves her hand in dismissal.

“Something that you maybe want to share with the rest of us?” Dustin shouts from beside you.

“I don’t wanna waste anyone’s time. It’s a real shot in the dark.” She shrugs. “And I really don’t want to squeeze into your backseat. It makes more sense this way. You guys go, I’ll tell you if I find anything.”

“Yeah, no, it’s too dangerous. You need… You need someone too…” Steve trails off, you scoff at the scene. “Here. You go, I’ll stick with Nance, alright?” Steve says, tossing his keys to Robin. “You guys take the car, check out the shrink.”

“I don’t think you want me driving your car.” Robin says.

“Why?”

“I don’t have a license.”

“Why don’t you have a license?” Steve snaps, growing more irritated by the second.

“I’m poor.” She shrugs.

“Give me the keys.” You demand taking the keys just wanting the conversation to be over with. “I’ll try not to crash your car.” You flash him a snarky grin.

“Okay, no. Enough of this.” Robin snatches the keys from your grasp and takes a flashlight from Dustin’s backpack. “I’m going with Nancy,” Robin says, shoving the keys back into Steve’s hand. “You both are exhausting. You two need to figure your shit out, especially after what happened back there. I get it, you hate each other, whatever, get over it. We have bigger problems right now and we’re never going to solve anything if you two can’t get along for even two seconds.” She spins on her heel and heads straight toward Nancy’s car before you can even get a word in.

“Sorry.” Nancy whispers before following Robin’s lead.

“Be careful!” Steve calls after them.

“You just gonna stand there and gawk, Harrington?” Dustin giggles.

“Oh, shut up. Get in the car.” Steve groans, “Wipe your feet.” He demands as Dustin climbs into the front and rubs his feet on the floor mat. “On the outside, not the inside!” He starts the car with rage. “Always the babysitter, always the goddamn babysitter.”

Nobody utters a word as Steve drives. You busy yourself looking out the window watching the trees pass. It’s a weird feeling being sat behind Steve. Once upon a time, nobody dared to take your spot beside him. It was almost second nature sliding in through the passenger door and everyone else taking the back. Once, Dustin got into the front just to see how you’d react, it really didn’t faze you, you honestly didn’t care where you sat. He stood outside the car for five minutes straight demanding that you take back your seat because “it messes up the system!”. Now, you understand what he meant. Granted, so much more has been messed up since then.

“Be right back,” Max says, hopping out of the car before it even comes to a complete stop. She lingers in the doorway waiting for Ms. Kelley to answer, anxiously tapping her foot. When the door opens, Ms. Kelly seems surprised to see her standing there, you don’t really blame her for that. You try to make out what she’s saying but come up empty-handed, too far away to read her lips. Max throws a glance over her shoulder before stepping inside and shutting the door behind her.

“Okay, she’s in.” Steve says.

“I’m missing collar bones, not eyes.” Dustin comments. You smirk at this. You’re happy he’s found a way to joke about it after all these years, you know how insecure it made him growing up. “So, we gonna talk about it?” Dustin’s eyes are trained on Steve’s.

“Uh, sorry, talk about what?” Steve asks, tearing his head away from the counselor’s house.

“Your temporary insanity earlier today when you basically threw yourself at Nance.” You’re glad you’re not the only one who noticed, even so, a knot festers in your stomach.

“Okay, first of all, that’s not what happened.”

“Pretty sure it’s what happened. It was pretty public. There were like a lot of witnesses.” Dustin’s nose scrunches, fake embarrassment spreading through his features. “He threw himself at Nancy, right? You saw it too?” Dustin asks, turning around to look at you.

“Oh, I saw.” You want to throw up. You’ve spent years trying to force yourself into believing Steve had no feelings left for her. You’re starting to think you were wrong this entire time.

“Are you implying I still have a thing for Nance?” Steve snaps, looking at Dustin.

“No, I’m not implying. I’m stating. And, as it relates to your steadfast refusal to date Robin, it’s pretty much the only logical explanation.” Dustin says, looking back out through the windshield. You bite the inside of your cheek in an effort not to laugh.

“That’s not the only one.” Steve grumbles. “And as for Nance, I was just trying to protect a friend.” He explains but’s clear Dustin doesn’t buy it. “A friend, Henderson. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“I don’t wanna find her in the morning with her eyes sucked out of the front of her skull by this Vecna creep.” Steve defends. Even if his words hold truth, you can tell he’s coming up with it on the spot.

“You’re like bright red in the face right now.” Dustin teases.

“No, I’m not. I don’t wanna talk about it.” Steve says rolling his eyes. “Why does everyone think I haven’t moved on from her.” Steve mumbles shaking his head.

“Uh, maybe because she was your first love? Everyone knows you never really move on from that.” Dustin says. Steve glances at you through the rearview, holding your gaze with soft eyes.

“That’s not true,” he says quietly, forcing himself to look away. “I’m done talking about this. Not another word or I’ll punch you so hard in your face that your teeth will fall back out.”

“Steven James!” His name tumbles out from your mouth faster than you could stop it. It was like second nature, as if you fell back into the role of the girl you were eight months ago. He knew he’d said too much.

“Whoa. Too far.” Dustin warns. They stare at each other for a beat.

“Not cool. Sorry.” Steve apologizes.

“Not cool. It’s okay.” They bump fists to solidify their peace. “So, uh, Y/N, how’s your boyfriend?” Dustin says in a poor attempt to change the subject.

“Oh, we broke up.” You admit quietly. It had been a brief relationship, it started towards the end of September. You weren’t looking to date at the time, still tending to your wounds from Steve. You fell hard and fast despite being convinced you’d never fall in love with another man. That’s the thing about love, it has a way of sneaking up on you without you realizing it and disappearing just as fast as it came.

Even though the months you had spent together were limited, you had never felt more alive. It was so painfully normal, how you wish every relationship could be, how you wish your relationship with Steve could have been. You didn’t have to worry about saving the world, you only cared about whose turn it was to pay for dinner and which apartment you were spending the night at.

“What? Since when?” Dustin asks, turning around in his seat to look at you fully.

“New Year’s Eve.” You force a chuckle, shaking your head. You haven’t thought about him much since. You think you liked who you were while you were together more than you liked him. It was easy being with him, there was no shared trauma or a history of friendship. He was new, exciting, and you loved every second of it. You almost forgot Steve existed entirely for those four short months. “He had the worst possible timing for that one. Must be a trend.” You look back out the window, ignoring the look Steve sends your way through the mirror.

“If you’re trying to make this even more awkward Henderson, you’re succeeding. Stop talking.” Steve huffs looking back toward the house. “Here she comes, here she comes, here she comes.” He says sitting up straighter in his seat, watching as Max bolts from the backside of Ms. Kelley’s home.

“What’d she say?” Dustin asks the second she throws the door open.

“Nothing, just drive.” She demands breathlessly sliding next to you.

“Nothing?” Steve questions.

“Steve, drive!” She shouts.

“Okay.” Steve’s wheels screech for the second time today, speeding down the road and out of the neighborhood. “Where am I going?” He asks, eyes trained on the road.

“The school.” She answers.

“The high school?” You ask, watching her dig in her jacket pocket.

“Yeah, she didn’t tell me shit.” She rolls her eyes.

“Told you.” You mumble.

“So, let’s find out for ourselves.” She says, holding up a keyring labeled ‘office’. With a single glance at the keys, Steve makes a sharp left turn, rerouting towards Hawkins high.

“What happens when we get to the school and there are cops everywhere?” Steve asks no one in particular.

“Why on earth would there be cops at the school, Steve?” Dustin laughs.

“No, that’s actually a valid question.” Steve gestures to you with a thankful motion, glaring at Dustin from your agreement. “As far as we know, the cops don’t know Reefer Rick is Eddie’s dealer, that’s why they haven’t found his hiding place yet. He has no other family besides his uncle, and he can’t go back home for obvious reasons. Where else would a kid still in high school have to go?”

“But why would he go back there at all?” Max asks.

“Maybe they think he’d go back for his drugs.” Steve shrugs.

“That’s ridiculous. Where would he even keep them, his locker? Eddie’s not that stupid.” Dustin says. Your lips turn into the faintest of smiles, it’s touching to see how quick he is to defend a friend despite not being in their presence. He’s always been that way to the people he loves. He told you once that he learned it from you.

“Yeah, not anymore.” Steve grumbles.

“Our senior year, someone tipped off the police that he was dealing at the school. They came and raided his entire locker and everything. They found all sorts of stuff in there. It was a pretty big deal.” You explain to the younger two. “They let him off with a warning but held him for back another year.”

“So stupid,” Steve scoffs. “why would anyone choose to deal drugs.” He shakes his head thinking out loud.

“People who don’t have the luxury of mommy and daddy paying for everything.” You snap. You’re not defending the way Eddie earns his income, but you understand. You know how it feels to be desperate enough to do anything just to afford to scrape by all too well.

It’s dark by the time you pull into the school parking lot. You scope the surroundings, there’s no sign of anyone around. You peek through the trees to get a glimpse of movement to make sure police aren’t hiding in the shadows.

“Safe to say there are no cops.” Sarcasm drips from Dustin’s lips.

“Unbelievable,” Steve says looking around the abandoned schoolyard. “I mean what do they even do? We found Eddie in less than twenty-four hours. We do their jobs better than they do.”

“Is that a surprise to you, Harrington?” You laugh, leading the way to the entrance. “Since when has anyone on the force besides Hop done their job? Even he didn’t do much before all of this shit happened.”

“Who knows how to pick a lock?” Dustin asks once in front of the door, leaning down towards the handle.

“Why would any of us know how to pick a lock?” Steve rolls his eyes.

“I know how.” Max admits. Both of their heads turn to her in disbelief.

“Or,” you trail off, reaching for the knob and opening the door with ease. “After you.” You say to Dustin, gesturing for him to enter.

You and Steve reach for the flashlights stuffed in Dustin’s backpack, hands brushing for only a moment. You snatch your hand away as if you’ve been burned. Steve hangs his head, pulling the flashlights out himself. You don’t look at him as he hands one to you. You start walking, sweeping the light over the floors and walls. You’ve always hated this place, you hate it even more in the dark.  

“Dustin, do you copy?” Robin’s voice pierces through the silence. Dustin reaches for his walkie and brings it to his lips as everyone rounds a corner.

“Yeah, I copy.”

“So, Nancy’s a genius. Vecna’s first victims date back all the way to 1959. Her shot in the dark was a bull’s eye.” Even through the static you can hear her excitement.

“Okay, that’s totally bonkers but I can’t really talk right now.” The walkie beeps.

“Wait, what are you doing?” She asks.

“Breaking and entering a school to retrieve confidential and extremely personal files.”

“Can you repeat that?”

“Just get your ass over here, stat. We’ll explain everything.” He orders, jabbing the antenna back into its rightful place.  

Max shoves the key into the locked office. With one final look over her shoulder, she pushes the door open, and everyone trails in behind her. She makes a beeline for the file cabinet in the corner of the room, you’re hot on her heels.

“It’s like a mini Watergate or something.” Dustin whispers looking around the room. Max pulls open the drawer filled with manila folders. “Hawkinsgate.” He murmurs somewhere behind you. You pay no attention to his words as you hold the light for Max. She combs through files passing over Chrissy Cunningham’s name. Your heart stops when you spot your own.

“Wait a second, didn’t those guys get caught?” Steve whispers.

“Holy shit.” Max mumbles. Her hands stop moving. You look closer, her fingers hover over a file labeled with Fred’s name.

“You found it?” Dustin walks closer, abandoning his conversation altogether.

“Yeah, and not just Chrissy’s file.” She says pulling out Fred’s. “Fred was seeing Ms. Kelley too.” The four of you look at one another, trying to piece together a puzzle that doesn’t yet fit. Max turns, taking a seat in Ms. Kelley’s chair, flipping open Chrissy’s file. You peer over her shoulder, skimming through the notes. “Can I see Fred’s file?” Max says after a few minutes have passed.

“Yeah,” Steve whispers, passing her the folder, leaning down to get a closer look. Max looks up from reading and stares at nothing in particular on the table before her.

“Max, what is it?” Dustin asks, attempting to follow her gaze. “Max!” He tries again. “Max!”

You come out from behind her, turning the chair so she can face you fully. “Max, hey, look at me.” You plead. She doesn’t blink. She’s staring right through you as if you aren’t even there. “Max?” You call out to her. Frantically, you look between the boys, both of them just as worried as you.

“Max, come on.” Dustin urges.

“Max?” Steve shakes her shoulder in an attempt to wake her. Tears sting the back of your eyes, threatening to spill at any moment.

Without warning she jerks, coming to. Her eyes are wild as she looks between the three of you. She throws her arms around your neck, choking back a sob. Instinctively, you hold her tight, rocking her back in forth to calm her down.

“Hey, shh, it’s okay I got you.” You coo. Dustin and Steve share a collective sigh of relief at the sight. “You’re okay, you’re safe.” Though when you say it, it feels like a lie. You aren’t sure what just happened, what you witnessed, what Max saw, but you know whatever it was, it’s not good.

And even though you hate this town after everything it has done, after everything it’s taken from you, you’re happy to be here in this moment for Max’s sake. You know she wouldn’t cling to Dustin or Steve. She’d wear her confidence like a mask, her walls would become so high and she wouldn’t show a moment of weakness. She knows she doesn’t need to be brave, not around you. So, you’ll sit here, hold her, and let the mask fall as she weeps in your arms for as long as she needs.

Forever tags: @superfrankie111 // @rueinn // @lemonadeorange73 // @simplechicwithacrazedheart // @youshutthefuckupville // @captainpeggy40 // @alexdamereysmith // @llatpdnmm // @dummiesshort // @quaksonhehe

Steve Tags: @empathetic-vibrations // @loulouloueh // @soulmatecashton

Back to You Tags: @p-rspective // @gloryekaterina // @boomitsallie1​ // @sundarksposts // @themyththelegendthenerd​ // @gengen64​

[on-a-lucky-tide]

("Bees", a small dedication to the wonderful @quia-nominor--leo, who I only get to see in passing because they're busy saving animals and being awesome. Lambert & Ciri, hints of past Eskel/Geralt. Mention of teenage girl crushes that Lambert teases her about.)

“Hold the rod with your casting hand around the base of the reel—no, other hand, it’s your dominant hand, stop fucking around, yeah, there you go—“ Lambert curled Ciri’s fingers into place, bracketing her narrow shoulders as he adjusted the fishing pole, “put your index finger in front of the reel and wrap your others behind it.” There was about twelve inches of line, and Lambert had pain-fucking-stakingly shown her how to bind the bait in place. The princess was a quick study and he only had to walk her through it twice before she had the hang of it.

Ciri jutted her lower lip in concentration. “Like this?”

“Yeah, like that. Now here’s where it all comes together,” Lambert said, glancing over his shoulder. “Check behind you for obstacles. Once hooked a man’s trews clean off on the frontward swing.”

She chuckled. “No, that’s terrible.”

“Yeah, cock swingin’ everywhere, bad day for him to go native, right—“ Lambert slipped a foot back after tapping her heel lightly, urging her to follow, “point your rod where you want your line to go, swing the rod back—“ his voice hitched as he tugged the pole and made her arms lift, “behind your shoulder and then bring it forward in one fluid motion, and when we do—“ he held her fast as she tried to follow his words, “you’ll release your finger from the line at the peak of the swing, an’ off it’ll go into the briny deep.”

“Lakes are freshwater, Lambert.”

“Keep back-talkin’ me and the fishes will have something a whole lot nicer than mouse to eat, here we go, and—”

They moved together in one fluid motion, Lambert nudging Ciri’s index finger away just in time for the line to unspool. The whir of the reel ended with a satisfying plop as the baited hook hit the surface of the water. A respectable distance, not that Lambert would tell Ciri that. “Passable,” he sniffed, dropping into the creaky old chair he had dragged down from Kaer Morhen for their lesson.

“Now what?”

“Now, we wait. Don’t scare the fish off with your bellyaching.”

Ciri threw her hands up and flopped onto the folded blanket next to the chair. To her credit, she sat in silence for a good while. Lambert even managed to crack open one of the beers he had brought to pass the time, but soon the pointed sighing began, and the shuffling, and the—shit, well, Lambert knew what it was like to be a—how old was Ciri anyway? Nine, twelve? Difficult to tell. The mutagens made you age in a weird way. One minute you were baby-smooth, barely a hair on your jaw, next you looked like a crinkled ball sack. “Something on your mind, princess?”

“I wish you wouldn’t call me that,” she said haughtily, “I’m… I’m going to be a witcher.”

“A witcher, you think?”

“That’s what you’re training me for!”

“Yeah, about that,” Lambert took a swig from the ale and leaned forward, forearms sloping over his thighs, “the training’s all well and good, we’ll see you right, help you swing a sword like the best of ‘em, but being a witcher? That’s not a path you have to walk. Shit, you could go marry some mouth-breather in the north and have some crotch goblins of your own—”

“Urgh, no,” Ciri pulled a face, “I don’t think I even like men. Grandmama picked out one she thought was good, and he was fat, and ugly, and he smelled so bad.”

“Oh yeah, all men smell bad.”

“And they’re hairy.”

“So hairy,” Lambert conceded.

“And, and… sometimes not even in the right places? Like, their head.” She slid him a sly glance and he kicked her on the leg. “But I guess you think they’re smarter than girls?”

“Naw. I just say that to wind up Merigold,” Lambert took another swig of ale, “most people are dumb fucks.”

“Even Geralt?”

“Geralt is the dumbest of all fucks, never forget that.”

She looked a little deflated at that and Lambert knew he had stepped wrong. When they were training, she was resilient. She took his waspish corrections and bellowed commands in her stride, but in quieter moments she was vulnerable. Without the blood thundering in her ears, she had the time to listen to the voices of doubt and fear telling her to give up. Too difficult. Too dangerous. And while he never liked to miss an opportunity to take a punt at Geralt, he wasn’t quite settled with the idea of doing it at Ciri’s expense. So, he baited the hook.

“I can think of a few that might beat Geralt.”

Her ears perked at the prospect of a story. “Yeah?” Fish hooked.

“Oh yeah. I had a contract in Aedirn once. There was this peasant who’d dreamt that a swarm of bees had swarmed up his arsehole and given him a vision.”

“A swarm of bees?”

“A swarm of bees. Anal bees.”

“Anal bees.”

“Right, so,” Lambert continued, his smirk mirroring Ciri’s. “He says these bees—these bees have given him a vision concerning the iniquities of the local clergy.” He paused, letting her work the word over in her head rather than assume her ignorance. The poncy court education seemed to be good for something, because her eyebrows soon raised, imploring him to continue. “Local clergy claim he’s hexed. And what do you do when there’s hex fuckery afoot?”

“You call in a hedgewitch, or a witcher.”

“Correct. Yours truly happens to be in the area. I apply my not inconsiderable genius and I work it out.” He left a dramatic pause while he took another draw from the bottle. Almost out.

“Well?”

“Well,” he imitated her shrill intonation back, and her nose wrinkled at him. “Well, Cirilla, the local clergy had been partaking in the whorehouse three towns over. Not really a titanic-fucking-issue, hypocrisy of institutionalised religion isn’t something I really bother with most times, but they had upped their groundrent to subsidise their habit.”

“Ploughin’ bastards.”

“Language.”

Her mouth clicked shut.

“So, I tell the council that the visions were true. Bring a few of the girls over to point out their johns, and the priests are stripped of all their privileges. And I got to spend a night in a warm bed ‘cause Bum-Bee’s wife was ever so fuckin’ grateful to have him home.”

Lambert was pretty sure there was meant to be a moral to the story somewhere. Maybe something about not all dumb fucks being equal, or to not judge a dumb fuck book by its dumb fuck cover, or—

Well, fuck if he knew. This was Eskel’s department. You know, the whole educational story thing. Lambert was more… practical skills. Fishing, sword drills, alchemy. Those were his areas of expertise. He slid her a sideways glance to make sure she had been placated by the Anal Bees story, but sensed that there was still something bothering her. He weighed up ignoring it, putting it off until he could nudge her towards Eskel or Pretty Boy, but he had to ask, because she had that burdened look that tugged at something in his godsdamned chest. “There somethin’ else?”

“I lied,” she said.

“About?”

“I do like men,” she sighed, “I quite fancied Coën when I arrived. And—“

“Right, so what’s the problem then?” Coën was a good looking bloke, and Ciri hadn’t been the only one looking. Lambert had looked. He'd looked a lot and was batting around the idea of asking whether he could do more than look.

Ciri went red to the very tips of her ears and glared down at her hands.

“You don’t have to tell me, kid. But Merigold’ll notice if you go back lookin’ like you’ve chewed on a wasp and I could really do without that ballache, so—“

“I-think-I-like-girls-too.”

Somewhere in the vast space of lake and woodland before them, a fat toad jumped from a rock into the water, and the resounding plop filled the anxious silence. Ciri stared at Lambert with wide eyes, her lower lip between her teeth. Lambert nodded slowly. "Merigold?"

Ciri flushed an even deeper shade of red.

Lambert smirked. Oh, little cub had a crush on the pretty yet diabolical sorceress. Too funny. "Huh, Ciri and Merigold sitting in a tree—"

"Lambert!" Ciri squawked, shoving him hard in the shoulder. She had clearly been expecting this to go differently.

"What?"

"You can't tell anybody."

"Not even Eskel?"

"No! Or Coën, or—"

"Geralt?"

"Especially not Geralt!"

"You know, Geralt and Eskel used to dick about all the time. Like, literal dicks, you know—" Lambert pushed his tongue into his cheek and shook his fist next to it. Ciri's eyes nearly crossed.

"They—uh, I mean Geralt…"

"He was the Keep bicycle, he—"

"Lambert!"

"Yeah, alright, sorry, forgot you were a—"

"Girl?" She narrowed her eyes, accusing.

"I was gonna say princess, but, if the shoe fits."

She folded her arms, lower lip jutted in a pout. "You never take anything seriously."

Lambert looked at her sideways, taking a pause to swig another mouthful of beer. He got the sense he should have made a big thing out of it, maybe put his arm around her and told her it was all gonna be okay, like she had some kinda grave illness they should work through together. Lambert couldn't do that. It just wasn't in him to make promises he knew he could never keep. The best he could do was show that others had survived before her.

He drew in a deep breath, and puffed it out through pursed lips. "First man I liked was about two years out on the Path. About three or four summers older than me, broad, sandy hair, missing teeth, cauliflower ear, but he was the first person to show me kindness in… a long time."

She looked up quickly. "What did he do?"

"He gave me something to eat, sewed up my face," Lambert gestured vaguely at his eye, "then one thing led to another. Lasted a few years."

"What happened?"

"Smallpox."

"Oh." She frowned. "Lambert, I'm… I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"I didn't—"

"People die, Ciri," he said. "Life's shit like that. The least we can do is find the decent bits that happen in between. They're… well, they're worth the bullshit, you know? And it doesn't matter who the fuck it's with. Man, woman. As long as they're old enough, and willing. And no hooves, horns… unless that's…"

She shoved him again, the chuckle spilling over a small smile, and he smirked back. They sat in silence for a bit, staring at the fishing lure bobbing on the wind-rippled surface of the lake. When she spoke again, it was with a wistful sigh. "Maybe I'll find someone when I leave for the Path. I think I'd want them to have all their teeth though."

"So shallow, princess."

Before she could respond, the fishing lure dipped and the reel began to whir. Lambert fell forward and grabbed up the rod in both hands, steadying it before passing it across.

"Easy now, tug, and wind, tug, wind, that's it! C'mon, Ciri, focus, don't get too enthusiastic, patience. Patience."

They landed an impressive looking fish, with glistening silver scales and sharp, blue fins. As the sun set, Lambert rustled up a small fire and cooked it in his mess tin, white flesh seasoned with a handful of herbs and a slab of butter. They talked through mouthfuls of food and dried tac, and then Ciri, like any young cub with a full belly, went and fell asleep on him.

With an irritable sniff, Lambert scooped her up as gently as he could and carried her up the slopes to the keep. She didn't even wake as Merigold put on her nightshirt, or as Lambert came back in to tuck the threadbare blankets around her bony frame.

"It suits you, you know," Merigold said softly as they closed the door behind them.

"What does?" Lambert asked, lips tilted down. You never knew what you were gonna get with witches.

"Your heart." And with that, she turned and floated down the dimly lit hall in a cloud of auburn curls and self-importance.

Lambert rolled his eyes and stalked off in the opposite direction.

Heart, pfft. Kaer Morhen had beaten the last of that out of him years ago.

[tenishasblog]

I was born and raised in Tallahassee, Florida, but I've moved all over. In middle school I moved to Palm Desert, California but I only lived there for about a year. Then I moved to Greenville, South Carolina, where I graduated high school and made some great friends. Then we moved to Alabama to be close to my great grandmother. It wasn't supposed to be permanent, but I was in a relationship and had my son, and I ended up staying.

In Florida, I grew up on a farm. My mom had a horse, and she raised ducks. I was never indoors.

We had a barn and a creek. I would use my imagination and make my own fishing poles and try to catch crawfish. My cousins moved in next door, and there were three boys so they had go-carts and dirt bikes we would ride. I grew up fishing too; my dad took me. I'm not one of those girls who's scared to bait my hook -I love fishing! Even today, I would much rather be outside than inside watching Netflix.

[bearboiferer69]

Fishing fanatic

My father is a fishing fanatic. Half of the flat is littered with fucking fishing rods, it's horrible. Roughly once a month someone steps in a hook lying on the ground and have to go to the hospital cuz they're barbed at the end. In my 22 years of life I had this procedure done 10 times. A week ago I went to get some random checkup done and when the receptionist saw me she immediately told me to take my shoe off cuz she tought that it's the hook again.

The second half of the flat is fucking packed with Polish Fisherman, World of the Fisherman, Super Carp etc (polish fishing newspapers). Every week my father drives to every kiosk in the town to get every single weekly fishing paper. I was foolish enough to teach him how to use the internet cuz I tought that we would save some money on these papers, but now not only he buys them, he sits on old fishing forums and spins shitstorms with other fishermen over the best bait etc. He can scream into the monitor or throw the fucking keyboard out the window. One time he made me mad so I made an account on that forum and I started trolling him writing in his threads some random bullshit like "Carps eat shit". Mom wasn't cooking hunter's stew fast enough for him to calm down. Oh, and on that forum he has the CATFISH rank, for making 10k fucking posts.

When it's warm he fucks off to fish every weekend. For 5 years, every fucking sunday, I eat fish for dinner and my father yaps about how beneficial eating these watery fucks is. When I got into college my father kept saying that it's because of these fucking fish, cuz they have phosphorus in them and my brain works better.

Every week he and his friend Mirek wake up the whole family at 4 AM cuz they make a ruckus packing fishing rods, making sandwiches etc.

While eating he always talks about motherfucking fish and everytime the topic eventually comes to the Polish Fishing Association, dad keeps getting more and more mad and gets unreasonably angry "hurr durr they don't put enough fish they only steal hurr durr", he gets all mad with all of this and gets up from the table cursing, and goes to read the Big Encyclopedia of River Fish to calm himself down.

This year on Christmas he bought himself a pontoon. Of course he couldn't last until the 24th so he unpacked it yesterday and inflated it in the living room. He dressed up in that whole fishing outfit and sat in it the whole day, in the middle of the flat. He ate dinner (carp) in it too.

If they let me near every fish in Poland at the length of an arm I would fucking kill them all.

Some time ago, in primary or middle school, on my birthday, my father, as a present, took me fishing. Great fucking gift.

We went somewhere way off, far away from the city, we get closer do the lake and my dads eyes are already glistening and he licks his lips in excitement. He unpacked all the gear and we sit at the water and look at the bobbers. After five minutes I got bored so I turned on my discman and my dad fucking bashed me on the head with a fishing rod, because "the fish can hear the music from my headphones and are scared". When I wanted to scratch my ass he started screaming in whispers for me to stop moving cuz the fish can see me move from the water and are running away. I had to sit in complete silence and no movement for 6 fucking hours and look at the water like in some fucking Guantanamo. My birthday's in November so on top of all of that it was cold like a motherfucker. At some point dad got up, walked a couple meters into the forest and farted. He explained to me that you need to fart in the forest cuz otherwise the fish can hear and smell.

I mentioned that my dad has his friend, Mirek, whom he goes fishing with. Some time ago his fishing buddy was Zbyszek. A man the shape of a ball with a mustache, wearing a BOMBER vest 365 days of the year. They were like brothers, him and dad, he would come with his wife Betty to us on Christmas etc. One time on my dad's birthday Zbyszek came over to hehe "drink". They got piss drunk and, of course, talked about fishing all the time. I was sitting in my room. At some point they started fucking screaming over which is better, catfish or pike.

-DON'T FUCKING PISS ME OFF ZBYCHU, HAVE YOU SEEN THE TEETH OF A PIKE?! CHOMP, ARM GONE!

-FUCK OFF TED, CATFISH IN POLAND WEIGHT 80 KILO, YOUR PIKE CAN SUCK THEIR DICK.

-WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING, TALKING ABOUT CATFISH, WHEN YOU CAN BARELY PULL A BLEAK OUT OF THE WATER. THE PIKE IS THE KING OF THE WATER, LIKE THE LION IS KING OF THE JUNGLE!

And it ended with them wrestling on the living room carpet and me and mom had to separate them. From that point onward they lost contact. Last year Betty called to let us know he passed away and that she's inviting us to the funeral. Mom picked up, said her condolences, put the phone down and tells about it to dad, and he replies:

-That's fucking fantastic

That's how much he hated him over that catfish.

I also mentioned my father's archnemesis, that being the Polish Fishing Association. It became his utter obsession and when, for example, they talk about some earthquake on tv, he always says how they should say something about those motherfuckers from the PFA. He stopped reading non-fishing newspapers too because he got mad that they're not writing about polish fishing or any PFA affairs.

The head of the local PFA branch is mr. Adam. For my dad, he's the epitome of evil done to all polish bodies of water by the Association and father had a war with him for several years. One time he went on some fishermen meeting where mr. Adam was and father came back home with a ripped shirt cuz they had to remove him with force, that's how much of a problem he was causing.

After loosing in hand-to-hand combat with the private militia of the PFA dad started a partisan movement online by insulting the PFA and Adam on the forums of local newspapers. He was spewing some bullshit like how Adam was a secret UB agent (communist group, kinda like the FBI), or how he saw him scratching someone's car with a nail on the street etc. I didn't teach my father how to use TOR so cops were called and father had to pay Adam 2000PLN.

When he was paying that he was unbearable for a week, father kept insulting the corrupted courts, the PFA, Adam and the whole world in general. I could deduce from his ramblings that the PFA are some kind of fucking masonry that rules the whole country, pulls the strings and has their people everywhere. He counted that 2000 in fishing rods, hooks or boats and got an absolute headache over , for example, how much vanilla bait he count buy for those 2k (a couple hundred kilo).

Last year father said that we absolutely need to have a fishing boat because apparently renting is too expensive and everyone wants to scam him.

"sonny, on the water is where the real ones fish! That's where the element's at! (it makes no sense in original text either)"

But he couldn't afford it nor did he have a place to store it and he wasn't some hehe loser, so he wasn't gonna pay someone for keeping it, and so he met some local fishermen, they bought a boat together, it's gonna stay at some dude's place, because he has a house and not a flat like us, on the driveway on this guy's trailer and they were to share the boat or fish together.

At first this cooperation went well but one weekend father got sick and couldn't go with them and had a temper tantrum over this. To top it all off, his friends called him to say that fish are catching like crazy so my dad was just lying there, crimson red from anger on the couch and kept panting like an animal. The worst part was that he had no one to blame, like he usually does. Finally he came to the conclusion that it's unfair that they're fishing without him because they bough the boat together and saturday evening, when these dudes came back from their trip, he suddenly left the home.

He comes back an hour later and tells me to help him with something in front of the block. I go outside and I see our car with the trailer and boat. I asked him where did he get it from and he replied that he fucking stole it from that dude's house because they scammed him and told me to grab the boat and bring it into the flat. My explanations that it's gonna take all the space in the living room were fruitless. Luckily the boat couldn't even fit through the door to the staircase so dad decided to just leave it in front of the house.

Using some chains that he found on the boat and my bike lock he chained it to a lamp post and satisfied with his work he wants to go back to the flat when suddenly 2 cars roll up, with co-owners of the boat inside, because they put 2 and 2 together and realized where their property might've gone. An unreal fight started, co-owners are screaming why did he steal the boat and to give it back, father's screaming that they scammed him and he payed 500 PLN and didn't even swim this weekend. I tried to calm them down so that dad wouldn't get beat up because it was really close.

After several minutes the situation was as follows:

-My father lying on the ground, clutching the trailer and screaming that he won't give it back

-Co-owners screaming that he has to give it back

-One co-owner has a broken nose because he tried to pull father away from the boat by the leg, and he got kicked with the other

-Two officers are pulling father by the legs and saying that he's going to the station cuz he beat someone

-Neighbors are watching from every single window around

-My mom is crying and begging father to leave the boat and the policemen not to arrest him

-Me sadfrog.psd

Finally cops ripped dad away from the boat. I gave the co-owners the bike lock code and they took the boat, throwing 500PLN at dad and saying that he no longer has any right to the boat and it's better for him not to meet them on any fishing trip. Mom managed to convince the cops not to arrest dad. The dude with the broken nose said that he's not wasting his fucking time walking to police stations and that he doesn't care, he just doesn't want to see father ever again.

Dad to this day is spinning shitstorms on fishing forums because they made a thread there where they warned everyone about making any deals with my father. I was following that thread and watched as my father ineptly made troll accounts.

Steven54

Posts made: 1

This thread was made by morons! I know user anons_dad for a long time and he's a great dude and an incredible fisherman! They want to slander him because they're jealous of his catches!

Later he would use these troll accounts to stalk his old boat buddies. When one of them made a thread he would fucking burst in on that account and say that he catches shit fish and everyone can see that he can't fish.

From the same accounts he would post replies to his own posts

"well catch! I see you're an experienced hunter!"

and then he would get all happy and force me and mom watch how they cherish his presence on these forums.

[whatanightmaregrinch]

Deacon x Fem!Sole Survivor- unexpected

They’d been at a Red Rocket truck station, setting up camp for the night when Deacon approached her. She acknowledged him from her perch on the counter in the main area of the building, wafting the cigarette smoke away that had begun to collect in the air around her. He stood in the doorway at first, sunglasses glinting just slightly as the setting sun caught the lenses. He was still wearing an outfit he called his scavenger disguise, but had abandoned the coat in the garage adjoining onto the room they were in. “Hey, you got a minute?” He checked, and she shook her head, exhaling cigarette smoke. Deacon frowned unhappily, but she cracked a jovial smile, and he relaxed when he realised she was joking. “Go ahead.” She urged him, eyes darting out of the window to check the perimeter for just a second before returning her attention to him. “I just wanted to say, I’m used to flying solo. But I gotta admit, working with you makes me think I’ve been missing out. Having someone watching your back... is refreshing. Especially since you never know when the Institute is watching.” He confided, coming to lean on the counter directly opposite her. The conversation felt more intimate now he was closer, and she paused whilst considering how to respond. It didn’t seem like a lie straight off the bat, so she held her breath.  “The feelings... mutual.” She replied, also not a lie on her end. He was a good travelling companion, and he always considered their safety, if not a little too much sometimes. It beat having to worry about bringing Dogmeat into battle in any case. If anything happened to that dog, she would kill everyone and then probably herself. He smiled at her, but it made her feel strange; the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. “I gotta say, you make it look easy-” She opened her mouth with a confused look, but he continued through it. “-You have some built in advantages, though. Some people at HQ are jealous. You took the Big Nap and everyone you knew is gone.” Her nostrils flared at the very cheek of him, and her mouth shut, lips pressing together in a thin line as she intensely fought the urge to slap him across the room, chest painfully squeezing as she struggled with her buried grief. He tensed up slightly, hands gripping the counter just a little tighter than before. “Wait, hear me out on the silver lining.” He threw out his request and she took the bait; hook, line and sinker. She sucked some more of her cigarette down, the tobacco leaving an appropriately bad taste in her mouth, just like this conversation was. She eyed him, a silent request for him to continue.  “If a human in the Railroad slips up then they expose friends and loved ones to danger. You’re safe from that.” He pointed out, and she hated the way she agreed with him. If she were to leave traces of herself, then the Institute would have no-one to subjugate.  “Well, I guess I’m a little lucky, then.” She agreed with him. He took this as consent to move forward after his poor choice of words. “What’s done is done. Upshot is you’re in a position where you can act openly. If you go to ground, there’s little the Coursers can do about it.” She nodded in reply, fishing her lighter out when she realised her cigarette had fizzled out, flicking the lighter to get it to light. She watched the way the flame danced light across his face. He seemed tired, like he was bearing the weight of the world behind his sunglasses. She offered him a cigarette, he took it and they bowed their heads together, sharing the flame. He leaned back, inhaling. “It doesn’t matter much to me.” He rasped slightly, the smoke leaving his mouth as he talked. “I’m a synth. At least that’s what they tell me. So I really don’t have anything to lose.” She pursed her lips slightly at the revelation, staring at his face in silence. She flipped the lighter lid to it’s closed position, saying nothing. She’d heard from others in the Railroad already about Deacon’s lying habits, and the Commonwealth had never given her a reason to trust anyone, and Deacon had never given her a reason to  trust him either, outside of combat. She really didn’t know how to take his statement, so she kept quiet. Uncomfortable with the silence, he continued to talk. “For Glory and me, and the others, it’s easier to dedicate ourselves to the cause.” His hand wandered to his pocket, and he withdraw a piece of neatly folded paper. He handed it to her whilst he spoke. She took it in a hand, arm still slightly outstretched as she held it between them, displaying her concern at the note. “Since we’re travelling together, I want you to have this. It’s my recall code. If you ever want to know something about the Institute, read it to me.” Her brow furrowed. If she remembered correctly, she’d already heard of recall codes before. There was talk amongst settlers that Coursers could just walk up to people they didn’t even know were synths, shout some mumbo-jumbo, and they’d flop down; physically disabled. There would be no fight as the Courser slung them over their shoulder, in a true bogeyman fashion, taking them back to whatever dark crevice the Institute called home. Surely Deacon didn’t mean that type of recall code?  Her lips pressed into a thin line. Was this all he wanted to talk about? She’d wasted a cigarette on him, and for what- for him to give her almost direct access to ending his life? It was fucked if it was true, and fucked if it wasn’t. She scrunched the paper up in her fist and set fire to it with the lighter from her other hand, displaying how she felt about their exchange. His eyebrows shot up from behind his sunglasses as she dropped the burning paper on the broken tiles on the floor between them, watching the paper curl up and blacken in a short burst of flammability.  “Uh, listen-” He started, but she angrily stabbed her cigarette out on the side next to her, before slipping off the counter to stand up.  “No, you listen.” She commanded him, and he fell silent, the paper now burning a soft ember, starting to disintegrate. Her tone was flat, and serious. “If I wanted to murder you, I’d shoot you. Right here. You wouldn’t even realise you were dead.” She pointed a finger towards his temple, indicating her bullets pathway. He didn’t cower, but he tensed like he was expecting her to take her gun from her holster and shoot him the way she was showing him. His heartbeat was fluctuating wildly in his chest, he’d never experienced anything like this from her before, and he was committing everything to memory as he experienced it. He had no idea if she was telling the truth or not, but her eyes dug deep into his own, almost as if his sunglasses weren’t in the way. She even met his pupils. “--Not some stupid code that I don’t even really believe is real, Deacon. If I truly wanted to mess you up like you’re expecting, I wouldn’t give you the curtesy of reading the damn note to you. Are we done talking about this now?” She finalised with an expression he could not read, and without waiting for him to reply back to her, she scuffed the remains of the now burnt paper out on the floor and turned on her heel. She left him there to go fuss with her power armour in the garage of the truck stop, and he didn’t move from his position, lent on the side with a cigarette that had long gone out during their emotional siege. He didn’t know how to file the information he’d just received, and there was no way he’d be able to pick the conversation up again at a later date. Maybe he’d pushed her too far with the lie, but he told himself it was for her own good. Trusting people in the Commonwealth wasn’t a good idea. She didn’t get as far as reading his warning, but there was something in the way she destroyed it that set an uncomfortable train of thought in motion. He thought he’d judged her correctly, able to second-guess how she reacted. He assumed she’d believe him; maybe demand to know why he hadn’t told her before. He figured she would read his note, and accuse him of the one being secretive, despite the fact she’d broken his trust by reading the fake note. He’d been wrong. He wouldn’t have to wonder if she ever read the note, effectively ending his life in his pretend scenario, because she’d removed the factor from the equation. She’d put it in black-and-white terms for him. Whilst other people might have pissed their pants at their companion threatening them, Deacon saw what the words meant underneath the threat. There was no threat there, of course there wasn’t.  It was a facade, an act to distract him from her real feelings. It was her act of devotion to him, burning his lies up right in front of him- showing him without words that she wasn’t about to use something so personal against him, even when she didn’t believe any of the words that had come out of his mouth; that was what she’d wanted him to see. It was strange, the feeling of catharsis that rumbled through him. This woman was not to be trifled with, and Deacon would not make the same mistake with her again. He straightened, stubbing the cigarette that he’d barely touched out. He couldn’t know for sure, but deep in his chest, something began to stir. He couldn’t identify the feeling, but it tingled up his spine and seeped into his skull. His mind kept repeating over the way she looked at him, the way her eyes seemed to sparkle in a fiery refusal to do what was expected of her. The faintest smile touched his lips as he looked off in the direction she’d stormed off in, before pushing the door open to the dilapidated gas pumps outside, concerning himself with checking their perimeter.