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cylidae · 4 months

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Peter Didn’t Actually Stab Edward (Divergent)

I know what you're thinking. Either "The books say he stabbed Edward, you dumbass," or "Nobody cares about this," or even "Who the fuck are Peter and Edward?" These are all valid responses, but they are also all wrong. If you want to hear me excuse one of Peter's worst actions because I love him, keep on reading! I've put too much thought into this.

Prefacing all of this by saying I do not excuse Peter’s actions as a whole. He is my favorite fictional character of all time, but he has done some unforgivable things that aren’t debatable either in morality or whether they happened. This is mostly for fun. I know what the narrative intent was, but the book leaves it open to interpretation, whether intentional or not.

I suppose the title is a bit clickbaity. It’s more “It isn’t proven that Peter stabbed Edward and when you think about it, it doesn’t make a ton of sense in some regards,” but that’s not as fun.

BIAS IN THE TEXT:

The first thing that we need to address in any discussion of the Divergent series is that, whether intentional or not, Tris seems to be a mildly unreliable narrator. Not to the extreme extent where we can't trust what events happen and how they happen, but we can't always trust her people reading skills. For example, let's look at something obvious. Her perception of people's appearances.

Here is Tris' description of Christina, her best friend.

“She is tall, with dark from skin and short hair. Pretty.”

Here is Tris' description of Will, another friend.

“He is blond, with shaggy hair and a crease between his eyebrows.”

Here is how she describes Four, her love interest.

“He has a spare upper lip and a full lower lip. His eyes are so deep-set that his eyelashes touch the skin under his eyebrows, and they are dark blue, a dreaming, sleeping, waiting color.”

And Caleb, her older brother.

“He has my father’s dark hair and hooked nose and my mother’s green eyes and dimpled cheeks. When he was younger, that collection of features looked strange, but now it suits him. If he wasn’t Abnegation, I’m sure the girls at school would stare at him.”

In contrast, here is how she describes Molly, a rival.

“Molly is tall like Christina, but that’s where the similarities end. She has broad shoulders, bronze skin, and a bulbous nose.”

And in a separate instance:

“She has a large nose and crooked teeth.”

And Drew, another rival.

“Drew is shorter than both Peter and Molly, but he’s built like a boulder, and his shoulders are always hunched. His hair is orange-red, the color of an old carrot.”

And how she describes Eric, the "evil" initiation instructor.

“His face is pierced in so many places I lose count, and his hair is long, dark, and greasy. But that isn’t what makes him look menacing. It is the coldness of his eyes as they sweep across the room.”

Even Peter, who is generally regarded as objectively attractive by Tris gets descriptors like this incredibly often:

“…he hisses, his face so close to mine I can smell his stale breath.”

While in terms of real life, I believe the explanation here is simple (Veronica Roth, the author, has subconscious biases) in the book's universe, these biases become Tris'. Those she dislikes are immediately deemed unattractive and described with generally negative phrases like "stale," "the color of an old carrot," "greasy," and "bulbous," while those that she's fond of are described positively with words like "A dreaming, sleeping, waiting color," (whatever that means) "pretty," and "dimpled." This attitude is even lightly referenced in Allegiant:

“Peter leans against the wall and laces his fingers over his stomach. ‘I’m just saying, if she decides someone is worthless, everyone else follows suit. That’s a strange talent, for someone who used to be just another boring Stiff, isn’t it? And maybe too much power for one person to have, right?”

This is not to say that Tris is wrong to have these biases, of course. People's actions and personalities do affect attraction. However, when discussing anything that takes place from Tris' perspective, her biases affect how events are read. These biases need to be kept in mind in cases like this.

And you could argue that maybe Molly, Drew, and Eric are ugly and Four, Christina, and Will are not. You're certainly entitled to that belief, of course, but it seems a bit coincidental that everybody Tris likes is described with positive physical attributes while those that she dislikes are not. For example, "the color of a old carrot." Well, let's look at some stale carrots, shall we?

There's no way the books mean to imply that Drew has spotted hair. Could it be the browning part? No, because his hair is described as orange-red, and that's dark brown. So it'd just be the color of the body of the carrot, right? But... wait.

That part's the exact same color as a normal carrot. So, essentially what Tris has done here is add the word "old" to her description of Drew's hair color despite that not actually changing anything. It makes it sound more negative than his hair just being the color of a carrot, so an old carrot it is. It doesn't have to make sense as long as it demonizes those she dislikes.

If you think I'm reading too much into this, you may be right. I've certainly never thought this much about carrots in my life. Obviously, the author just didn't know what an old carrot looks like. But mistakes on the author's part do affect Tris and how she's perceived as a character, and whether intentional or not, these biased descriptions occur quite often.

LACK OF CONFIRMATION:

With all of that said, let me drop what may be a shock. The books never confirm that Peter stabbed Edward. Tris and her friends assume that this is what happened, but Edward didn't see who stabbed him. Peter never confesses to being the one to stab him. There is never actually any evidence that it was Peter that hurt Edward besides "Tris doesn't like Peter, therefore it was Peter." In addition to this, if we actually look at textual evidence, it suggests that Peter is not the most likely candidate for the attack on Edward.

Let me start by just putting the entirety of the scene where Edward gets stabbed right here. I'll be going back to it a lot (obviously) so I need it as a point of reference.

“And then a wail that curdles my blood and makes my hair stand on end. I throw the blankets back and stand on the stone floor with bare feet. I still can’t see well enough to find the source of the scream, but I see a dark lump on the floor a few bunks down. Another scream pierces my ears.

‘Turn on the lights!’ Someone shouts.

I walk towards the sound, slowly so I don’t trip over anything. I feel like I’m in a trace. I don’t want to see where the screaming is coming from. A scream like that can only mean blood and pain; that scream that comes from the pit of the stomach and extends to every inch of the body.

The lights come on.

Edward lies on the floor next to his bed, clutching at his face. Surrounding his head is a halo of blood, and jutting between his clawing fingers is a silver knife handle. My heart thumping in my ears, I recognize it as a butter knife from the dining hall. Myra, who stands at Edward’s feet, screams. Someone else screams too, and someone yells for help, and Edward is still on the floor, writhing and wailing. I crouch my his head, my knees pressing to the pool of blood and put my hands on his shoulders.

‘Lie still,’ I say. I feel calm, though I can’t hear anything, like my head is submerged in water. Edward thrashes again, and I say it louder, sterner. ‘I said lie still. Breathe.’

‘My eye!’ he screams.

I smell something foul. Someone vomited.

‘Take it out!’ he yells. ‘Get it out, get it out of me, get it out!’

I shake my head, then realize that he can’t see me. A laugh bubbles in my stomach. Hysterical. I have to suppress hysteria if I’m going to help him. I have to forget myself.

‘No,’ I say. ‘You have to let the doctor take it out. Hear me? Let the doctor take it out. And breathe.’

‘It hurts,’ he sobs.

‘I know it does.’ Instead of my voice I hear my mother’s voice. I see her crouching before me on the sidewalk in front of our house, brushing tears from my face after I scraped my knee. I was five at the time.

‘It will be all right.’ I try to sound from, like I’m not idly reassuring him, but I am. I don’t know if it will be alright. I suspect that it won’t.’

When the nurse arrives, she tells me to step back, and I do. My hands and knees are soaked with blood. When I look around, I see only two faces are missing.

Drew.

And Peter.”

Here we get to see Tris' biases in action. Peter's absence is immediately given more credit than Drew's. Don't believe me? Here.

“As I reach for the door handle, Christina says, ‘You know who did that, right?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Should we tell someone?’

‘You really think the Dauntless will do anything?’ I say. ‘After they hung you over the chasm? After they made us beat each other unconscious?’

She doesn’t say anything.”

They don't directly state Peter's name here, but the assumption is, for the rest of the series, that Peter stabbed Edward. Here are some quotes that make it clear that this is what every character we see believes:

“‘I’m the one who’s threatening you,’ Shauna says, almost in a growl. ‘One more violent outburst and I’m going to teach you a lesson about justice.’ She holds the knife point over his eye, and brings it down slowly, pressing the point to his eyelid. Peter freezes, barely moving even to breathe. ‘An eye for an eye. A bruise for a bruise.’”

(The notable quote here is "An eye for an eye" paired with the mention of justice. It is clearly not being used as an expression here.)

Before you dare tell me that Peter didn't deny it here, he had a knife to his face. And I quote, "Barely moving even to breathe." You really think he's going to say "Well actually, I never stabbed anybody's eye out." No. Absolutely not. He might if that's what he was being confronted for, but he was in trouble for trying to kill Tris, not stabbing Edward.

“I don’t want to cry for Edward—at least not in the deep, personal way that you cry for a friend or a loved one. I want to cry because something terrible happened, and I saw it, and I could not see a way to mend it. No one who would want to punish Peter has the authority to, and no one who has the authority to punish him would want to.”

Here is another quote where punishing Peter is directly tied to the attack on Edward, clearly implying that Peter would be punished for the attack. Note that Drew, the other initiate missing that night, was not brought up at all.

“I should be pleased that I’m ranked first, but I know what that means. If Peter and his friends hated me before, they will despise me now. I I am Edward. It could be my eye next. Or worse.”

Here is yet another where Tris assumes Peter will stab her eye out like he did Edward's, despite being completely unable to prove it was Peter who did that.

“‘Yeah, and Peter is all about what’s fair. That’s why he grabbed Edward in his sleep and stabbed him in the eye.’ Christina snorts and shakes her head.”

Here is a quote from Christina (a very biased person considering Christina has directly stated her hatred for Peter and Co here:

“‘Those three’—Christina points and Peter, Drew, and Molly in turn—‘have been inseparable since they crawled out the womb, practically. I hate them.’”

Why would we trust Christina's opinion to be any less biased against Peter than anybody else?

“Peter sinks to his knees. His face glistens with sweat. For a second I almost feel bad for him, but then I remember Edward, and the itch of fabric over my eyes as my attackers blindfolded me, and my sympathy is lost to hatred. Caleb eventually nods.”

This quote is especially upsetting to me because it's the deciding factor in whether or not Tris feels any sympathy toward Peter. She's convinced herself that he's done something he hasn't. This teenager who is shown later to be incredibly mentally troubled, could have been shown some degree of mercy. He may have gotten that one chance to change that he's wanted for the entire series. But because of an action that nobody has anything but speculation on, he is not given that chance. He is seen as "undeserving."

THE LOGISTICS:

So far I've done a lot of complaining about Tris as the narrator, but I haven't presented anything that actually challenges her assumption. Well, strap in, because there is a lot.

Starting with the most basic and unconvincing piece of evidence, here is a quote from Will the morning after the eye-stabbing incident. Tris and co actually went out that night because they didn't have anything to do the following day.

“‘This is going to sound weird,’ Will says, ‘but I wish we didn’t have the day off today.’”

How unreasonable is it, then, to suggest Peter was also out doing something? Tris never notes him to be in the room after she gets back from hanging out with her friends, and the stabbing seemingly occurs not long after she returns. Why is it so ridiculous, then, to think that the reason Peter may have been off somewhere was because he stayed out just a little bit later than Tris? Why is he given this uncharitable assumption for doing the exact same thing as our protagonist? What if Tris had come back to the dorms a little bit later instead? Then would she be the one assumed to stab him? Of course not, because this isn't actually about who's in the room. Tris hates Peter and wants him to be evil, therefore he is evil. Evidence doesn't matter to her, because she is only seeking information that furthers her own hatred.

More importantly, the narrative has repeatedly made one very important thing clear. Peter is not stupid. He’s able to manipulate Al into betraying his friend. He comes up with a rather complex plan to save Tris in book 2 and carries it out successfully. Peter is established to have quite a few negative traits, but being stupid just isn’t one of them. So why then, would an intelligent person carry out this crime the way that he did?

The initiates have access to real, sharpened knives. Ones good enough that only Al failed to hit the target and have the knife stick.

“A half hour later, Al is the only initiate who hasn’t hit the target yet.”

So why then would Peter choose to use a butter knife? If you've ever used a butter knife, you know that they don't stab very well. Peter, as somebody with knife experience, would know this. he would be able to get an actual knife. a butter knife may take multiple tries to actually stick. This would leave more opportunity for Edward to wake up and see who stabbed him before they could make their escape. While whoever did stab him got lucky in this regard, somebody experienced with knives and described repeatedly as intelligent wouldn't make this mistake.

Even more damning, the knife is still in Edward's eye when he's found. Pulling the knife back out wouldn't add any time at all to the process and would increase how much it injured him greatly. that leaves us with two options. Peter, somebody who is known to be incredibly clever, just forgot what he would have to do to make a stab wound bleed the most, or Peter showed mercy and specifically didnt want Edward to die from this. the first answer is unreasonable and doesnt line up with characterization shown previously and the second answer actively makes Peter into a better person, which is clearly not the intention of this event.

The book is also definitely aware of the fact that pulling it out would worsen the injury, as evidenced by Tris telling Al the doctor had to be the one to remove it.

“‘No,’ I say. ‘You have to let the doctor take it out. Hear me? Let the doctor take it out. And breathe.’”

I also find it very odd that Peter and Drew are both noted as missing and it’s implied they did it together. What, did they hold hands and stab on the count of three? This is not a two person job. Having another person honestly just makes it much more likely you’ll get caught, because that’s another person you have to get out of the room before the lights turn on. I can’t think of a single benefit to having Drew help, but I can think of plenty of downsides to it. It seems more likely that neither were involved than both of them were.

Lastly in the “Peter is not stupid” argument, why would he leave the room after stabbing him? This is instantly seen as a sign of guilt from the others, and Peter would know that running off after doing this was a bad idea. What if somebody turned the lights off and saw him running? Instantly caught. And him just being the only one missing from the crime scene is seen as very suspicious. (I do think that’s rather stupid. Since when is not being at the scene of the crime something that makes you guilty? But I digress, because it does within the narrative so that’s what we’re going with.)

To contribute to the bias argument and counter more evidence the book presents, Peter being pleased with second place is also treated as proof of guilt. Why? Tris and her friends were excited about her sixth place ranking. Peter has every reason to be pleased with how high he ranked, especially considering that Eric, who ranked second two years ago, is now the youngest faction leader. its a good ranking and one he has reason to be proud of. This "Peter could never be satisfied with second place" sentiment is something that Tris has invented about him. she uses this to justify everything he does, but in addition to him showing no signs of being upset with second place:

“Peter didn’t say anything when the rankings went up, which, given his tendency to complain about anything that doesn’t go his way, is surprising. He just walks to his bunk and sits down, untying his shoelaces. That makes me feel even more uneasy. He can’t possibly be satisfied with second place. Not Peter.”

He also confesses to hurting people because he enjoys it.

“‘I’m sick of doing bad things then liking it and wondering what’s wrong with me.’”

He enjoys doing bad things. he likes hurting people. The only other instance of him doing something that could be percieved as for his rankings was his attempt on Tris's life. You mean to tell me that this man who we know hated Tris from the moment they met couldnt have done this for any other reason? We dont know why he despised Tris so much (and I’m trying to stay away from my personal headcanons here) but that targeted bullying started long before she beat him in the rankings. This is his first interaction with Tris:

“‘Ooh. Scandalous! A Stiff’s flashing some skin!’

I lift my head. ‘Stiff’ is slang for Abnegation, and I’m the only one here. Peter points at me, smirking. I hear laughter.”

Peter hated Tris when she was last place and hated her when she was first place. We cant pin his attempt to kill her on only her beating him in the rankings when he physically harmed her prior (no pun intended) to that.

Anyways, "what about the quote where he's mad tris outranked him," asks nobody because nobody else scans every line of this book to prove Peter’s innocence.

“‘I will not be outranked by a stiff,’ he hisses, his face so close to mine I can smell his stale breath. ‘How did you do it, huh? How the hell did you do it?’”

“I will not be outranked by a stiff." he's not upset about being outranked, but seemingly upset at being outranked by somebody from Abnegation. Erudites, on the other hand, he seems to have some level of respect for. he joins them in book two and seems to at least midly agree with their ideals. his hostility towards Tris is due to her faction, but Edward, being an Erudite, gives Peter no reason to be hostile in that regard.

ALTERNATIVES:

“So,” I hear the strawman asking because nobody has read this far. “If Peter didn’t stab Edward, who did?” Well, I’ll be the first to say I don’t really know. I feel that Peter being the one to do this goes against his character, isn’t proven, and doesn’t really make logical sense, but I’ll be the first to admit that the author almost certainly intended for him to be the one to do it. But since we’ve already come this far, why not explore some alternatives? For the purpose of this question, I’ll only be including the Dauntless transfer initiates and their two intructors at the time. Them, Eric, and Four are the only people with any investment in Edward that we’re aware of as readers. Some of these are obviously more ridiculous than others. I’ll rank them in order of least to most likely.

10. Tris

I don’t think I even need to explain why this is downright impossible. We read from her perspective. What Tris knows, the reader knows. If she stabbed him, the reader would know. That’s not even bringing up how distressed she is when he gets stabbed and how wildly out of character this would be.

9. Four

Four is also pretty much impossible, because we hear from his perspective in the third book. During one of his conversations with Peter in that book, I think it’s impossible he wouldn’t have thought of what he did at least once throughout that book if he was the one to do it. Not to mention that, like Tris, this is laughably out of character for him.

8. Christina

This, like the other two, is just out of character in every way. She seems genuinely angry at Peter for doing this, and I just can’t get behind the idea she would be the one to stab Edward instead. The only possible theory I could come up with here is that she wanted to frame Peter because of her hatred for him, but that doesn’t even come close to being convincing.

7. Eric

I’m not sure if anybody will be surprised that I put Eric so low on the list compared to some other much less evil characters. While Eric is definitely awful, he’s the neglectful kind of awful. He refuses to take action against the initiates. He says this to Four after Tris was nearly killed.

“‘Competitive environments create tension, Four. It’s natural for that tension to be released somehow.’ He smiles a little, stretching the skin between his piercings. ‘An attack would certainly show us, in a real-world situation, who the strong and weak ones are, don’t you think? We wouldn’t have to rely on the test results at all, that way. We could make a more informed decision about who doesn’t belong here. That is… if an attack were to happen.’”

But he doesn’t show any bias and doesn’t seem to care about who wins at all. He does dislike Tris, seemingly due to this world’s version of xenophobia, but he doesn’t have anything against Edward that we’ve seen. I can’t find motivation here whatsoever.

6. Will

Yeah, it’s taking us a bit to get into the actually viable theories, huh? Will is shown to be a caring person, if a bit logic driven at times. He tries to avoid conflict, even with people he doesn’t like, such as Molly.

“She lunges at me, her hands outstretched, but she doesn’t get far. Will grabs her collar and pulls her back. He looks from me to her and says, ‘Quit it. Both of you.’”

He isn’t shown to have any relationship, negative or positive, with Edward, and seems sickened the next day, saying he almost wishes they didn’t have the day off. We could maybe twist this into a sign of a guilty conscience if we try hard enough, but it isn’t convincing.

5. Edward

I may have to explain this one being on the list at all, especially since it isn’t even at the bottom. Do I think this is a ridiculous theory? Yes. But we’re going through them all, so. We aren’t necessarily given a reason why Edward would stab himself, but it’s the simple idea that there could be reasons. With most of the previous characters, we would know if they secretly hated Edward. Edward himself, however, is far from a narrative focus. He could have any number of things going on away from the reader’s knowledge.

I will say, I doubt this was a case of secret self hatred. This would be one of the worst attempts at suicide I have ever seen. He didn’t stab himself in a vital area, he used a butter knife despite being from Erudite, and by extension, not stupid, and he chose a ridiculously painful way to go about it. It’s a little more likely that he just wanted a way to leave Dauntless without judgment, but still very implausible.

Not even bringing up the fact that he beats Drew nearly to death for supposedly being involved

“‘That Drew guy, who helped Peter preform that butter-knife maneuver,” Tobias says. “Apparently when he got kicked out of Dauntless, he tried to join the same group of factionless Edward was part of. Notice that you haven’t seen Drew anywhere.’

‘Did Edward kill him?’ I say.

‘Nearly,’ Tobias says.”

Which is the only time Drew is brought up as a part of this incident apart from initially being noted as missing, which is appreciated.

In general, this is a very stupid theory, but it’s still a bit less stupid than the ones below it.

4. Myra

It’s always the partner. I mean, I don’t really think it was in this case, but her being Edward’s partner already gives her some suspicion. We don’t know much at all about her. Shes shown to be bad at most Dauntless things, and implied to have only joined to follow Edward. However, during the knife throwing scene, it is stated that only Al failed, so she isn’t completely helpless.

Edward and Myra could have any number of things going on that we would never know about because the narrative doesn’t focus on their relationship to any extent.

She seems more likely for the theory of “wanted to leave Dauntless without judgement” too. She didn’t have to get hurt this way, and would be seen as a good person for following her boyfriend.

This is compounded by the fact that she breaks up with him pretty soon after. Edward says that it’s because he got violent because of his anger about being stabbed, but who knows?

Pretty silly theory, considering Myra is shown to be kind in the few glimpses of her we see, but this is the first one on the list that has any merit to it in my eyes.

3. Al

This is not one I planned on putting this high at first, but after thinking about it, I can kind of buy into this one. Al is shown to get more and more desperate about rankings the longer the book goes on. During section two of initiation, he goes as far as to attempt to murder (or if he’s to be believed) scare Tris. (More like traumatize, but I digress.) If he’s willing to so horribly betray Tris, one of his closest friends, what’s to say he wouldn’t harm somebody who wasn’t close to him at all?

The rankings were just posted. Al is dead last and Edward is first. No matter who he attacks, Al gets bumped up a spot. The lower on the list he attacks, the smaller the range of suspects gets. If he goes for whoever was directly above him, he’s automatically the prime suspect. Two places above him, then him and the other person are the only suspects, so on and so forth. Aiming for the top makes it so that anybody could be a suspect.

Plus, getting rid of Edward specifically also got rid of Myra. Al couldn’t have known for sure this would happen (unless he asked Myra about it off screen) but it’s a pretty safe assumption to make considering how much she didn’t want to be there. If the attackers goal was rankings, which Al’s would be, this would be the best place to strike.

Additionally, this actually helps his character arc to some extent. Rather than him snapping all of a sudden, it’s a gradual decline. Starting with a non-fatal attack on somebody he isn’t close to, then a fatal attack on a close friend.

And in a piece of evidence I forgot about until I reread, Al actually stays in his room the night before, seeming very upset.

“‘We should go celebrate.’

‘Well, let’s go then, then,’ says Christina, grabbing my arm with one hand and Al’s arm with the other. ‘Come on, Al. You don’t know how the Dauntless-borns did. You don’t know anything for sure.’

‘I’m just going to bed,’ he mumbles, pulling his arm free.”

I’m sure this was intended to be him worrying about rankings, but since we can’t see his thoughts, it could be anything. Considering how he reacted to what he did to Tris, it seems guilt shuts him down. This would be a very in character reaction to feeling guilty for what he’s about to do.

Al also seems much more likely to make all the mistakes that Peter wouldn’t. He would use a butter knife considering his shown inexperience with real ones. He would stab the eye rather than a vital part in an attempt not to kill. He wouldn’t pull out the knife (whether because he doesn’t want to hurt Edward more or because he doesn’t know that it would.)

And to top it all off, this does work. Edward and Myra leaving bumps Al up just enough to stay. Considering Al’s reaction when he almost got kicked out of Dauntless the second time, I find it hard to believe he would sit still and rely on luck.

This is the first one that really got me to think. Is it meant to be true? No, definitely not. But could it be? Yes, and there’s actually an odd amount of evidence for it.

2. Drew

This one and number one were really a toss up for me. They’re tied at first place in my mind, and I went back and forth a lot. Seriously. While I was writing this intro paragraph you’re reading right now, I switched the name up there three times.

I ultimately decided to put Drew a bit lower than Molly because of this one quote:

“‘Drew is just his sidekick. I doubt he has an independent thought in his brain.’”

He doesn’t make decisions on his own, at least according to Christina. And since we’re working under the assumption that Peter was not involved in this, that’s automatically a point against him doing it. However, it’s kind of the only point against Drew. He’s a prime suspect.

For one, the obvious. He was also missing from the dorm when Al got stabbed. But unlike Peter, this actually seems very in character for Drew. He’s shown to be very flighty, running when Four approaches them at the chasm (well… starting to run.) He’s also shown to be not very smart, so he may not have put together that this only made him look more suspicious.

Actually, all of the intelligence points I put against it being Peter contribute towards it being Drew. He’s dumb enough to use a butter knife, to not pull it out, to leave the room.

He has motivation too. He gets kicked out of Dauntless later, so he could have been trying to save his own ranking. Due to his intense loyalty to Peter, he also could have been trying to impress/help him.

Drew also antagonized Tris right before this incident.

“Drew shoves me into the wall to get past me.”

Normally an antagonist doing something so small and… antagonistic wouldn’t be anything to write home about, but Drew is an incredibly minor character. He only gets a few lines and actions throughout the series. Most of what we know about him is through the one line Christina says and his choice of friendships. Everything else he does is sort of just saying “yeah, that!” to everything Peter does. However, this is his first time being a solo antagonist. It’s small, yes, but its proximity to the stabbing in the text and the fact it never happened before or since makes it worth including for me.

Theres also the fact that Drew nearly got killed by Edward over this incident. While I don’t believe Edward quite saw what happened (his eye was otherwise occupied) I did think it was worth throwing out there that Edward believed he was responsible to some extent.

1. Molly

Molly is a weird one in this situation. On one hand, she’s shown to be an accomplice to Peter pretty often, but on the other she’s absent from Peter’s two largest crimes (those being the butter knife incident and the chasm incident) At first I assumed Molly wasn’t brought along to the chasm because she’s a girl, and as such wouldn’t be strong enough to carry Tris. Until I remembered that being incredibly buff is one of Molly’s only features. It’s presented negatively/unattractively in the text, but she’s given the nickname “The Tank.” This girl is ripped.

She also was not noted to be missing from the room after Edward’s stabbing. In a way, this makes her more suspicious to me. The book presents three antagonists in this group who work together in every situation up to this point (considering the chasm hasn’t happened yet) and are described by Christina to be inseparable. When one of those three does something different from the other two, especially considering Molly isn’t the leader or focus of the group, it makes me ask some questions.

Her being set apart by the narrative like this has always been really odd to me. Not just in the sense of it being suspicious, but it just not making sense. Shes a much bigger antagonist than Drew. It’s one of Tris’s defining character moments when she beats Molly in a fight. Molly has more lines than Drew does, and does more to directly hurt Tris (more on that later.) She seems to be more than “one of Peter’s lackeys” to some extent, and acts separately from him more often than Drew. That’s what ultimately pushed her to first for me.

And the most clear indication of her acting separately from Peter is the event with the Erudite reporter.

“Peter continues. ‘Molly Atwood, a fellow Dauntless transfer, suggests a disturbing and abusive upbringing might be to blame. ‘I heard her talking in her sleep once,’ Molly says. ‘She was telling her father not to do something. I don’t know what it was, but it gave her nightmares.’’”

So this is Molly’s revenge. She must have talked to the Erudite reporter that Christina yelled at. She smiles.”

(Note that nothing said about Tris’s father here is true. That is why this act upsets Tris so much.)

This is a pretty large moment of bullying done by only Molly. Peter was not shown to be involved in feeding the reporter any information, only reading it out loud to tease Tris. This was all Molly. Drew doesn’t have any moment like this. The book’s repeated effort to set Molly apart from her two friends really feels as if it’s building up to something.

I will cover the only thing hurting this theory quickly before I go into its strengths. Molly is not stupid. The event with the Erudite reporter confirms this. She may not be especially intelligent - we aren’t shown that - but is she stupid enough to use a butter knife? Well, she is rather sadistic. Maybe she wanted to have to stab multiple times for it to stick? Or maybe obtaining a butter knife was less suspicious or easier? Those both seem a little unlikely to me, but that’s kind of the only downside of the Molly theory. Other than that, it makes more sense than Peter in my opinion.

She is shown to be very upset about rankings. Much more than Peter.

“‘What?’ demands Molly. She points at Christina. ‘I beat her! I beat her in minutes, and she’s ranked above me?’”

While Peter gets upset specifically when beaten by Tris, Molly is outraged to be low at all. She only turns her fury to Tris when Eric recommends she “stop losing to low ranking opponents.”

“The words sting a little, reminding me that I am the low-ranked opponent he’s referring to.

Apparently they remind Molly, too.

‘You,’ she says, focusing her narrowed eyes on me. ‘You are going to pay for this.’”

She then promises revenge. This is only a few pages before the stabbing. While her “revenge” is implied to be feeding information to the Erudite reporter, that does nothing to help her rankings. Considering how upset she was about her ranking even before Tris was brought into the picture, it seems likely that she would choose to also seek a way to bump that up, such as taking out the highest ranking initiate.

Molly is shown specifically to be terrified of getting cut towards the very beginning of the book:

“‘What do we do if we’re cut?’ Peter says.

‘You leave the Dauntless compound,’ says Eric indifferently. ‘And live factionless.’”

[Irrelevant reactions omitted]

“‘But that’s… not fair!’ The broad-shouldered Candor girl, Molly, says. Even though she sounds angry, she looks terrified. ‘If we had known—’”

Molly is also specifically singled out by Christina to be sadistic during the scene she describes the trio, saying she’s the type to hold a magnifying glass to ants just to watch them flail.

I see no reason to suspect Peter over Molly aside from Tris’s own biases. She’s just as, if not more, suspicious than Peter once you separate Tris’s monologue from the actual events.

JUSTIFICATION:

Now, switching gears a bit, I hear your cries, strawman. Well, I don’t actually know what you’re arguing specifically, but I’m sure there’s something stupid I said. Let’s say none of that convinced you. You still fully believe that Peter stabbed Edward. But now the question is, would he even be wrong to do that?

This probably sounds like a stupid question to you. Stabbing somebody’s eye out over rankings is a very wrong thing to do. But you’re forgetting one tiny detail, because I’m the only one who reads these books with a wordsearch on Peter’s name. It wasn’t over rankings.

This isn’t me shoving my theories in either! Edward directly states himself that it was not because of rankings:

“‘I seem to recall hearing rumors that you provoked that attack,’ says Tobias.

‘What are you talking about?’ I say. ‘He was winning, that’s all, and Peter was jealous so he just…’

I see the smirk on Edward’s face and stop talking. Maybe I don’t know everything about what happened during initiation.

‘There was an inciting incident,’ says Edward. ‘In which Peter did not come out the victor. But it certainly didn’t warrant a butter knife to the eye.’”

And Four was aware of this before Edward said anything. At first when I read this quote, I assumed it implied something stupid. Like they got into a fight or the like. But then I thought about it a little harder.

In Dauntless, it is not only socially acceptable, but socially encouraged to beat the shit out of each other. If it were just a fight, Four wouldn’t have been informed of this. Whats more, there isn’t a single place in the book that mentions Peter having a suspicious injury. For it to be worth stabbing an eye out for Peter, I’d imagine it’d have to be pretty serious. Something that either doesn’t leave a visible injury/limp/etc or an injury that is so minor Tris doesn’t see it as worth mentioning? Even if that would upset Peter enough, I doubt Edward would attribute something so small to why he got stabbed. If it was a small altercation like this, Edward would believe it was due to the rankings like everybody else.

And again, Four was informed of this. We don’t know who told him, so let’s go through a few options. Only the most likely ones for times sake.

PETER:

This seems most likely at first, but Peter is a proud person. He’s willing to manipulate to get his way, sure, but he would never go to Four just to admit to losing a fight. For him to tell Four, it would have to be serious.

EDWARD:

For Edward to feel the need to inform his training instructor, it would again have to be very serious. He doesn’t like Peter. If it was survivable (which I’m assuming it would be based on Peter’s lack of visible injuries or limp) he wouldn’t tell.

FOUR WALKED IN:

The last option that feels reasonable enough to explore is that Four walked in on something. Four attributes the stabbing to this event, not the rankings. Therefore, it’d have to be something so obviously bad at first glance that Four immediately knew that’s why Peter stabbed Edward.

I’m not going to waste time trying to establish what this thing Edward did was. There are far too many missing variables for me to even begin to guess. Anything I say beyond this point would leave the realm of theory and be pure headcanon with no basis in the books. I just want to make it known that something that seems pretty severe did go down, so even if Peter did stab Edward, he may have a better reason for it than we thought.

CONCLUSION:

I am not the author of these books, and will never know the narrative intent. I can make educated guesses (the intent was almost definitely for Peter to have stabbed Edward), but I can’t know for sure. These events are never touched back upon or explained further, so what I know here is really all there is to go off of.

That being said, I hope I made you think about this event a little bit differently, and consider the possibility that Peter maybe didn’t do this one thing. He still did all the other stuff though so it’s pretty irrelevant. But I had fun!

#tw knife #tw sui #divergent #peter hayes #divergent peter #peter divergent #drew divergent #Molly Atwood #tris prior #tobias eaton #four divergent #Edward divergent

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gyozumaki · 3 months

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As I wait for my laundry and also because I'm not an asshole who withholds content, here is...

Can I beat up a chicken?

Y'all should know the drill by now; 5'7" twink, I know what I'm doing but have poor reflexes, vision, and hearing, and we have...

EXCLUSIONS - Help Wanted 1+2, AR, FNAF World, anything in the books/comics. Let's go!

Bottom of the list to nobody's surprise is Phantom Chica. Easy to avoid, doesn't kill, not even a challenge. Ms. Watermelon has nothing on my keyboard smashing abilities 💪

Possible hot take but Withered Chica is next. What's she gonna do, peck me? Kick me? Not that much of a threat with or without the Freddy head. She's freaky as hell but I'm a big strong man, I can scream while swinging a crowbar or something. Multitasking is my specialty!

Rockstar Chica, not the most memorable but more memorable than Rockstar Bonnie. I dump water on the floor and I'm fine. And if she gets me, what's she gonna do, smack me with maracas? That might hurt actually nvm. Withered gets freaky points and Rockstar has actual blunt force ability, giving her the edge between them.

Nightmare and Jack'O Chica, which my mom thought for the longest time were my favorite animatronics. They're awesome and certainly up there but Springtrap is too damn cool. Anyway, just flash them. Same deal as Nightmare Bonnie. Flash her, you're good. And she isn't a Bonnie so physically fighting her wouldn't be as difficult. I fear Nightmare Cupcake more than her. The designs are awesome though, some of my favorites in FNAF 4.

Again, possible hot take, but Funtime Chica is a menace to deal with. Flashbang, flashbang, flashbang, leave me ALONE JESUS FUCKING CHRIST! In a 1v1 outside of UCN, she's down instantly, but her in Ultimate Custom Night is so painful. My poor eyes, man.

I hate Security Breach and refuse to interact with Ruin but I do like the animatronics. Ruined Glamrock Chica is pretty gnarly to look at and I wouldn't mess with her. But can't you just throw a box at her to stun? I think I have a chance. Teleporting aside, I could probably walk away with a couple scratches.

Obligatory TJOC insert! Ignited Chica is... spooky. The Kubrick stare she has is both funny and freezes me in my tracks. And she actually pecks, good fuckin lord. She doesn't kill instantly and is relatively easy to deal with (in Story Mode) but I'm not fighting her 1v1 willingly. I could maybe trip her yet for some reason I just can't trust my reflexes and bone durability.

Putting my loathing for Security Breach aside, Glamrock Chica is pretty cool. Again, the animatronics are cool! Blob and Burntrap aside. She is a klutz but not really to be reckoned with. None of them are. I suffer from blond so I don't think I can really outsmart her.

Chica the Chicken! Remember when everyone thought Chica was a boy and a duck? Maybe I'm just old. Whatever, I'm not going to willingly fight her either. She's resilient, surprisingly fast, and can thundercunt Carl at me like a Wii remote. And she knows her way around a kitchen?? I do as well but I don't think I can withstand getting conked in the face with a skillet by an animatronic possessed by an angry dead kid.

This is definitely going to be controversial but I'm putting Toy Chica at the top. She scares me on every level. I guarantee, if I battered her with a baseball bat, she would laugh in my face before ripping it off. She's terrifying! You don't fuck with the It girl! I really look forward to seeing her and Withered Bonnie in the next movie (NOT FOR THAT REASON NO ABSOLUTELY NOT) Y'all really don't realize how creepy she is. Fuck that, I'm not fighting her.

Feddy Fazeballs is coming up soon!

#horror #horror games #fnaf #five nights at freddy's #chica the chicken

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hops-hunny · 3 years

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When He Sees Me

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Chubby!Reader

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 4.3k

Request: N/A

Summary:(Y/n) always thought she was too rational for love, until she wasn’t. (Based off of the song When He Sees Me from Waitress)

Warnings: Slight negative thoughts and angst but vast majority fluff and pining! Oh and positive use of the word fat.

A/N: Fred is a little OOC in this?? But I honestly just imagine him as the type of guy to be sorta whipped if he really falls for someone.

I stick with real things

Usually facts and figures

When information's in its place

I minimize the guessing game

(Y/n) had always been a rational girl. In her younger years at Hogwarts, as all her friends began to giggle and blush at their crushes, she kept her nose in her books. Although she was curious of what they were experiencing, the thought never lasted long in her mind due to what her mother had told her from a young age.

(Y/n) was about the age of 6, sitting on the floor near the couch as she colored humming to herself softly. She had noticed her mom was in a bad mood due to her being sprawled out on the couch many upon many empty bottles of alcohol littered the table. She wasn’t sure why her mother was so upset but ever since they had seen her father at the park with her babysitter last week her mom had been in this mood and her father hadn’t been back.

“(Y/n) dear, promise me something.” her mother muttered to her half asleep. The girl turned around smiling at her mom. Her mom gave her a weak smile back as she pet the top of the girls head. “Never give your heart to a man. He’ll only leave it in pieces.”

At the time, the girl obviously had no clue what she meant but the older she got and the more she saw the people in her life get their hearts broken time and time again she had developed a clue. So, she simply focused on anything that wasn’t romance. School, plants, knitting, you name it and that’s what she gave her attention to. Even though it wasn’t a conscious action, it still affected her deeply.

I don't like guessing games

Or when I feel things

Before I know the feelings

How am I supposed to operate

If I'm just tossed around by fate?

Like on an unexpected date?

Although her friends described it to her many upon many of times, she still found herself absolutely clueless of what feelings of love was like. That's why when she saw him, she was confused by what was happening.

“Oh he’s simply lovely! He does this funny little things with his hands where-” Although (Y/n) was focused on her coursework, she was still listening to Diane as usual. She liked to listen to her friends retelling of experiences with lovers, soaking it in like a cheesy romance movie. She looked out the window needing a quick break from her work. Her breath hitched quietly as she placed a soft chubby hand over her heart feeling as it raced wildly in the chamber of her chest. Her body had a tingling sensation all over that she had never felt before as she felt herself get dizzy.

“W-who’s that?” she said in an airy tone, causing her friend to follow her gaze. There he stood, laughing and joking around with his friends pushing each other around. His ginger locks blew in the wind slightly and his skin glowed in the soft afternoon sun.

“You mean you don’t know who that is? That’s Fred weasley! He’s like one of the most popular guys in our year. I can’t believe you just asked that.” She snickered some, teasing her friend. She stopped once she noticed the girl who was usually quick to snap back was unusually quiet. She smiled softly at her expression, noticing that look in her eyes. Whether (Y/n) knew it or not yet, she was absolutely enamoured with none other than Fred Weasley.

“I don’t like him. He makes me feel funny.” she said, however the way she looked out the window still said otherwise.

“Funny how?”

“I don’t know, just funny.”

“Like laugh funny or like funny funny?”

“Obviously not laugh funny, are you an idiot?” She asked, glaring at her blonde friend. She looked out the window once more. She noticed him look back causing her to gasp, eyes wide with shock. He winked at her causing her to scoff, pick her things up before shutting the library blinds and run off to who knows where.

Diane laughed to herself as she began to pack her own stuff up to go after her friend. She sighed before running quickly out the library to catch up.

“Ah, young love!”

-------------------------------------

With a stranger who might talk too fast

Or ask me questions about myself

Before I've decided that

He can ask me questions about myself

He might sit too close

Or call the waiter by his first name

Or eat Oreos

But eat the cookie before the cream?

“For the last time Diane, I’m not talking to him!” she said, slamming her book closed as she tossed it on the table in front of her. Her, Diane and a few of her other friends found themselves in the common room as they usually did on friday nights talking and gossiping about anything that came to mind. Today’s topic of discussion was the girl’s apparent “crush” as they called it. Considering she had nothing to base off of whether that’s what the funny feeling she had mentioned earlier in the week was, she decided to trust her friends in them saying that’s what it was.

“What? Oh come on, give me one good reason why you won’t.” Molly said, facing her friend her sharp green eyes boring into (Y/n)’s (e/c) ones.

“Oh I can give you a PLETHORA of reasons why not!” the (y/h/h) girl exclaimed as she stood up. She began to pace, trying to rack her brain for good reasons on why not. “Aha! What if he butters both sides of his toast? Or-or what if he asks me too many questions on why I’m talking to him? Or if he’s as popular and well known as you say, what if he takes that as an excuse to ignore personal space boundaries and gets handsy?”

“He’s a teenage boy, not a serial killer. Someone’s been watching too much muggle crime specials.” Molly said as she rolled her eyes, sighing as she leaned back into the couch. (Y/n) glared at her friend, letting out an exasperated sigh as she facepalmed. It wasn’t like she didn’t wanna do anything about these feelings. She most certainly did. Whatever would get rid of them the quickest is the route she wanted to take.

“Well, you could always let him know another way!” Ronnie said as they looked up at their friend. “You’ve got so many skills and talents, why not take advantage of it?” Although Ronnie wasn’t very talkative, whenever they opened their mouth they always said something that made perfect sense.

“As per usual Ronnie, you’re the voice of reason. Merlin bless Ronnie for all of eternity!” (Y/n) exclaimed dramatically as she got on her knees, pretending to worship her friend like a god.

--------------------------

(Y/n) had been doing just that, making herself known to Fred without making herself known. The (y/h/h) girl had wanted to be anonymous about it, leaving things without her name however Diane pointed out the fact that (Y/n) had “the presence of a ghost” and that “even ghost had more of a presence then her” which meant that even if she did attach her name to the things left Fred would have no idea who it was. Because to be frank (Y/n) was, well, a nobody.

She noticed this little ‘talent’(if you could even call it that) first year when her teachers would mark her as absent despite her being in the front row of the class and having some of the highest marks. She seemed to fly by unnoticed by all but her small group of friends which they all found funny, especially with Diane being one of the most popular girls in their grade if not all of Hogwarts.

So, she started off small. She’d leave little notes for him in places she knew he’d find them, usually his first or last class of the day, and his seat in the great hall. She would watch him as he’d read them, flushing sometimes as he read them. However, his usual response was to read them out loud to George, bragging about how a pretty girl was leaving him notes.

“Ah listen to this one, Georgie! ‘Here’s a quidditch tip for you Fred. I noticed that when you’re on your broom you have a habit of going to the right which is why you often get stopped. Try switching it up sometimes! However, that’s not the only thing I’ve noticed. Somehow despite being in that dorky quidditch outfit, you still look just as fit as usual. Yours truly, (Y/n).’” He smirked at that part, a chorus of ‘ooo’s from his friends.

“Although she may be blind to say that, she does know her quidditch! Sounds like a catch if you ask me. I’m surprised she didn’t go for me, the better twin.” George said, choking on his toast as Fred smacked him on the back of the head.

Diane nudged her friend, glancing at her. She laughed as she saw her friend’s round face buried in a book to hide the overwhelming amount of shyness that was overcoming her. Even though this had become a regular thing, she still couldn’t stop the way her heart would race every time Fred would read one of the letters aloud.

To avoid the notes becoming repetitive, she started to switch it up every once in a while. Baked goods, hand knitted scarfs and gloves, even flowers with meanings behind them made their way into Fred’s ownership. However, the more things he got the more not only him but other people became curious. Who was (Y/n) (L/n)?

But what scares me the most

What scares me the most

Is what if when he sees me, what if he doesn't like it?

What if he runs the other way and I can't hide from it?

What happens then?

If when he knows me, he's only disappointed?

What if I give myself away, to only get it given back?

I couldn't live with that

Molly was currently trying to catch up to her soft friend, a sympathetic look on her face. “Why not? I think you should just go up to him and tell him! So many other girls have tried, claiming to be you.” she said, catching the other girl’s attention. She bumped into her as the (h/c) girl abruptly stopped. She turned to look at her friend with tears in her eyes causing her to look down at her agape.

“Do you wanna know why I haven’t just gone up to him yet? Do you really?” She said above a whisper as she looked up at her tall friend, silent tears making their way down her cheeks. “It scares me. It scares me even fucking more than what I feel for him does. Fred is just so..he’s funny, talented, popular. Who wouldn’t want him?” she choked out, looking away. “What if when he sees me, he doesn’t like me? Whenever he reads my notes or gets one of my gifts he always mentions how beautiful (Y/n) must be.”

“(Y/n)...”

“Let me finish Molly. When he says that, he probably means some tall leggy blonde like Diane. I’m just me.” she lets out a dry chuckle, sniffing as she wipes at the tears streaming. “Sure, I find me beautiful, you guys find me beautiful, but the world doesn’t. I don’t look like anyone he’s ever been with before. Fred is always surrounded by tons of gorgeous women. If he saw me, he’d only be disappointed. If I gave myself to him and he rejected me, I couldn’t live with that. Now I see what my mom was talking about.” she said as she walked off leaving Molly confused by the last part of her statement. She frowned hearing her friend’s words but she knew her better than to chase after her when she was upset. She turned the other way, walking quickly in hopes she’d make it to her lecture not too late. However, a flash of red hair out of the corner of her eye didn’t go unnoticed but it did slip her mind when she saw her friend later.

So, I'm just fine, inside my shell-shaped mind

This way I get the best view

So that when he sees me, I want him to

(Y/n) sat in the library at a table by herself. It was a friday, usually she’d spend this time with her friends in the commons. However, after the never ending pestering to just talk to him, to face him she told them she wasn’t feeling well and that she’d be retiring early. It wasn’t a lie, she had completely planned on getting some much needed rest but as she lay in bed tossing and turning her restlessness turned into frustration leading her to read a bit to clear her mind. Reading was what she enjoyed doing when she wanted to clear her mind or simply escape the insufferable reality she was living in. But after she found herself reading the first line to chapter three 10 times she placed her bookmark between her pages, looking out the window.

It was if the universe was taunting her from the sight in front of her. There he stood, talking to another girl from their year. She couldn’t recall the girls name but it wasn’t that important, she was beautiful. She sighed as Fred laughed at something the girl said, patting her head before walking away. ‘It’s better this way. He can’t see you which means he can’t reject you which means you won’t get hurt’ is what she kept telling herself. However if that was the truth, then why did she feel so empty inside?

-----------------------

(Y/n) laughed along with her friends as they sat in the empty common room. Everyone from their house was Merlin knows where at this time as they all shared their intimate horror stories.

“Oh come on, that did NOT happen.” she said through laughs, eating another chocolate from the box on the table. Her cheeks hurt from the amount she had been laughing. Diane was in the midst of telling what happened during her recent sexual endeavor with some guy from her herbology class.

“I swear he did! His face was green and everything! Next thing I know he was blowing chunks off the side of the bed. I offered to take him to the infirmary but he didn’t hear me through his tears so I just made my exit as swift as possible!” she said laughing as well, face red from how much she had laughed through the telling of the story. They all continued to howl with laughter, someone else’s laughing triggering someone else to laugh even more. (Y/n) was the laugh one left laughing as her friends all began to grow quiet.

“G-guys? Why’d you stop? Who’s next?” she said, looking at Molly who was on her left and Ronnie who was on her right.

“Um, don’t look how (Y/n) but Fred Weasley is coming this way.” Diane said, causing the girl to stop breathing briefly.

“W-what?!” she whispered loudly, eyes growing wide.

“Yeah and um don’t freak out, but he’s looking directly at you. No pressure though!” Molly said, giving her a rough pat on her back as she offered the girl a smile. The (h/c) haired girl glared up at her. As Fred grew closer, their voices grew quieter.

“Why wouldn’t that make me nervous?!” she said through gritted teeth as she pulled on Molly’s curls causing the girl to let out a quick ‘ow!’. She chuckled nervously. “Well, we have nothing to worry about! It’s not like he knows who I am!” she said as she relaxed some, closing her eyes as she leaned back. She heard footsteps stop in front of her causing her eyes to shoot open as she looked at the ground. Huh. Those shoes didn’t look like Ronnie’s shoes. Matter of fact, they didn’t look like Diane’s either. Or Mo- oh no. She looked up, arms folded across her abdomen self consciously as she looked up at the man in front of her. She couldn’t help but take in his appearance.

He was in a white shirt, some spots see through from what she assumed was a mix of sweat and water. His flaming hair was mostly dry but damp in some spots and he adorned a pair of sweatpants that made him look quite godly in her opinion. If she had to guess, he had just gotten back from quidditch practice. It was weird for her to be this close to him intentionally. The only time she found herself close to Fred was when they’d walk past each other in the hall or when their classes would go by each other due to a required location change for the lesson. Therefore she had never been able to see the freckles on his knuckles, the barely noticeable acne scars that adorned his forehead, or even the way his Irish spring’s shower gel smelled oh so heavenly.

“I’ve been all around the castle for weeks, months even. I think the main reason it took me so long was not only the fact that I haven’t really seen you up close before, but all the other birds claiming to be you. It was like that one muggle film, what’s it called? Cinderfeller?” he pondered for a moment looking off.

“I-it’s Cinderella.” Ronnie chimed in, giving him an awkward smile. They were all quite stunned. Although they all knew that this wild goose chase couldn’t go on forever, they didn’t expect it to be Fred of all people to approach first. They were sure (Y/n) would reveal herself on her own time but it seemed that they weren’t the only one’s getting impatient with the girl’s excuses and whys.

“Right, thank you. So I set off, making a list of every girl in our year in the castle- with the help of George and Dean of course- and we spoke to quite literally all of them. It was easy to weed out the fakes because they couldn’t answer questions related to some of the gifts I had received. So by the process of elimination that leaves you, love. Are you (Y/n)?” He said, crouching down to her level. As hues of brown met hues of (e/c) it was much too intimate for the girl to handle. She sat there, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.

“W-well I am a (Y/n). I’m sure there’s plenty of others in the castle!” she retorted letting out a forced laugh, wiping her sweaty palms on her skirt. Was the common room always this warm?

“If I recall correctly, weren’t you bragging the other day about being the only (Y/n) in the castle? You said and I quot-” a quick stomp of (Y/n)’s foot on Diane’s caused the blonde to quickly stop whatever she was in the middle of saying. Fred looked down at the (h/c) hair girl with a quirked brow and knowing smirk. She was caught red handed. Without another word, he quickly pulled her off the couch with ease, dragging her along with him. She tried protesting and looking at her friends for help but they all simply waved and smiled at her, making kissy faces and noises. ‘Idiots’ she thought as she rolled her eyes. Fred continued to guide her, the path to where they were going looking awfully familiar until they arrived at the astronomy tour.

“Listen Fred, I just wanna say I’m sorry. I know you were probably expecting (Y/n) to be someone who looks like Diane, or hell, even Molly’s dumbass but I’m not. I’m just me.” She began as she walked to the edge, looking off the balcony. “I know now that you’ve seen me you’re probably disappointed. I’ve seen the girls you hang around all the time and they’re bloody gorgeous and-”

“So are you.” he whispered, causing her to whip her head around quickly.

“Pardon?” she responded with glassy eyes. The girl wasn’t too sure why her eyes began to water from three simple words. They weren’t the usual three words that cause or evoke such an emotional response but they felt like the missing piece of a puzzle. Her eyes followed the lanky guy as he walked over to her, tucking a few pieces of hair behind her ear as he interlocked their hands. Long, skinny and defined calloused hands meeting her soft thicker but smaller ones.

“So. Are. You. Beauty is such a fluid thing. There’s no one way to be beautiful, lovely. Museums have many unique and beautiful forms of art and so does life.” He let his hands wander on her sides, gliding up and down her love handles, waist, and hips. He took one of his hands to tilt her head up oh so gently. “If you were a sculpture, you’d be made of the finest of marble by the most talented of sculptors. Hell, if I wasn’t so bloody bad with art I’d sculpt you myself but I don’t think I’d be doing you much justice. It’d be a monstrosity.” he said, shuddering at the idea of him doing anything art related. (Y/n) found herself giggling at that.

“If only you applied this verbiage to your coursework. Perhaps you’d actually be doing decent.” she remarked as she continued to laugh. Fred gasped a bit before joining in as well with his own laughter. As the laughter died down, he lifted a hand caressing her cheek, thumb sweeping across the smooth skin. She found his eyes to see they were filled with adoration. “Fred Weasley, are you whipped for me?” she spoke softly as if she had said it any louder, that he’d simply disappear.

“I have been since the first time I saw you.” He responded, his own cheeks flushing a bit with a light crimson. She looked at him puzzled a bit before her eyes widened slightly.

“You remember that? That was months ago!” she noted. He grinned at that, pulling her closer.

“Of course I do. Imagine my delight when I found out that beautiful girl who slammed the blinds shut on me happened to be the girl my heart was slowly going out to with every note and kind gesture you sent my way. Merlin is definitely on my side. Although I must be honest,” he looked away for a bit before lookin back at her. “The list was a huge help, but I also couldn’t help but overhear your conversation in the hallway that day. However I knew then wasn’t the right time to approach you, I assumed you would’ve just been more upset over the fact I was eavesdropping a bit.” he mumbled. She opened her mouth to question what conversation before she recalled what she had said to Molly that day in the hallway.

“Hearing you speak so lowly about yourself upset me quite a bit. I wanted to plan out what I was going to say a bit more and also make sure it was actually you.”

“I’m sorry you had to hear me say those things about myself. I usually don’t say such things like that, I’m very confident in the way I look. To me, fat and ugly aren’t synonymous but I know everyone isn’t so open minded.” she admitted, dropping her gaze to the ground. “I’m also new to this whole feelings thing. You’re the first guy I’ve ever had feelings for.”

Now, it was Fred’s turn to become speechless. He couldn’t believe his ears, he had the honor, no, the privilege of being the first guy to be such a sublime goddess of a woman? He felt his ears heat up and he knew he had to look absolutely ridiculous. “I don’t blame you, I am one hell of a guy!” He said, flexing his arms as he flashed her a cheeky grin. (Y/n) scoffed some, shoving him away as she rolled her eyes playfully. She pondered for a second before standing on her tippy toes planting a kiss on his cheek...or at least that’s what she had planned. Fred being Fred turned his head last moment wrapping his arms around her waist as he pressed his lips into hers. She gasped softly, chills running up her spine again as her body tensed.

Even this was her first time having a kiss, she could tell this was a feeling she’d be craving nonstop. (Y/n) wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling Fred down to her height. The ginger boy smirked into the kiss, trailing his hands all along her soft frame practically melting at the feeling. His hands snaked their way down to her ass, cupping the pillowy flesh between his large hands causing the (y/h/h) to moan softly. The Gryffindor pulled away, biting and pulling her bottom lip along with him.

“So, I have a question for you then…”He started, pressing his forehead against hers. She felt the warmth of his minty breathe hit her face as she looked into his eyes expectantly. “Do I really have a tendency to go to the right when I play quidditch? Because in my opinio-”

“Fred! Really?!”

#fred weasly x reader #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x you #fred x reader #fred weasley x y/n #harry potter imagines #Harry Potter #plus size reader #chubby reader #harry potter imagine

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thrndlngs · 3 years

Note

hey rose! (can i call you that?? sorry if that's not your preference) i may or may not have caught a case of crazy phat mad feelings for a boy and i was wondering if you had any cute headcanons about some of the MHA boys pining for a pretty fem reader?? i can't imagine this guy liking me back but i figure hey, if nobody got me ik pretty superhero boys got me AMEN lmbo no pressure on this request. hope you're doing well and things are okay in your world!! thanks love you!! first anon OUT 😌✌️✨💖

omg ya that’s totally cool!! i actually like that!!!! but omg, pls! i’m sure it’ll work out if not... hopefully these headcanons will help u out!!! LOVE U FIRST ANON!!!!!!!!

IZUKU MIDORIYA,

will definitely stare at the back of your head during class and imagine 700 different scenarios that could ‘possibly’ happen if the two of you ever have a conversation that doesn’t involve school.

keeps note of your quirks and tries to give you pointers on how to use ur quirk via crumpled paper airplanes in the courtyard or slipped into ur locker.

will always, always, always keep an eye out for you to make sure you’re okay - if he sees you crying he’s gonna embarrass himself and be like, “you think that’s bad? kachan almost blew me to bits.” and now the both of you are crying.

daydreams about u.

whenever the class is training at the USJ or anywhere really, he’s bouncing. like. literally bouncing on his heels in case something goes wrong, he wants to be able to intervene. not because he thinks you’re not capable of fending for urself but it’s because he literally can not bare the thought of u getting hurt.

he definitely draws ur names with a heart and arrow through it!!!!!!!

really admires u and tries to be really nonchalant about how fond he’s become of u so when the two of you do have a conversation it’s just like... gibberish. you know when he goes on those little rants and the words cloud around him and everyone is like??? midoriya wtf. yeah like that.

BAKUGOU KATSUKI,

explosive boy definitely doesn’t know he likes you until he goes to recovery girl and recovery girl has to explain him the ‘weird’ feeling in his stomach, the rise of temperature in his face and the quickening of his pulse is literally because he has a crush. on you.

and boy does this raging blonde flip his shit. him?? have a crush??? when he’s trying to be number one hero??? a distraction??? not in this lobby.

easier said than done.

tries to avoid you at all costs. like even moves his seat permanently so he doesn’t have to breathe the same air as you.

no because during a training the two of you are teamed up and this man literally holds his breath like he’s five because he doesn’t want to inhale your ‘germs’. but he grows up a bit and realizes that you’re actually pretty strong and can handle your own. heavy emphasis on the pretty.

so not only is he pinning for you but now he sees you as competition. so the initial plan to avoid you goes out of the window because he wants to one up you.

bakugou’s face is tomato red everytime the two of you spar and you think it’s because he’s mad but jokes on u.

takes a HOT minute but he’ll suffer in silence and just y’know open the door and wait five minutes for you to walk through it and then complain after.

sees you in the hallway and flicks you in the forehead and reminds you that he’s going to be number one. but later beats himself up because wtf? why didn’t he say something else.

will go out of his way to fix your fighting stances and then have a coughing fit. so he’s going to push through his feelings but it’s really obvious to everyone else that he isn’t being lowkey, yknow?

IIDA TENYA,

my favorite class rep. he’s going to be so obvious about it. like. he’s an open book.

will offer to help you study. makes sure your chair is pulled out every morning so you don’t have to do it.

will also let you board the bus first.

will also tense up whenever you look at him. holds an emergency class meeting (excluding you) to figure out how to handle this ‘situation’ and everyone is like... dude

he takes kirishima’s ‘show her you’re a manly man’ to serious and tries to show off. with his grades, quirk and his class rep status which you know isn’t working so he’s back to square one.

as bad as it sounds he makes a copy of all of his notes and color codes them based off of his you know ‘coding’ system and has it handy in case you don’t come to class one day or fall behind.

everyone knows but you. everyone also thinks that you would’ve found out by now since iida holds you on your own pedestal but! LOLKDSAJ

DENKI KAMINARI,

okay so.... this man... is so drama. he’s a clutz and obvious but he isn’t going to be direct. whether it’s because he’s scared of being rejected or because he’s not confident enough like bakugou and todoroki is unknown but anywayz

leans on the locker and tries to woo you with some words and falls. literally falls over. it’s okay though (in his eyes) because you immediately get eye level with him and try to check on him. it’s a win in his eyes.

is totally okay with the nickname ‘calamari’ but only likes it when you call him that. he tries to tell everyone that it’s a ‘you and him’ thing and gets teased abt it.

tries to include you in every conversation possible. he wants you to feel included in everything.

thinks ur like a walking goddess and that u should be treated as such.

he gets a little to excited around you so whenever the two of you touch he gives off some electricity and immediately goes on a thirty minute rant on how sorry he is.

makes you... a fucking... mixtape... with scribbled out hearts on the cover.

also... sends you songs to listen to but it’ll be like some random edm song and ur like”oh wow... love that...” and he’s like “ok cross that out she doesn’t like EDM.” and is DETERMINED to find out your favorite genre so the two of you have something to bond over.

changes your ringtone on his phone to the pokemon theme song because and i quote, “she’s the ash to my pikachu.”

isn’t so lowkey about his crush but??? everyone thinks he’s like?? just being himself?? so???

EIJIRO KIRISHIMA,

bro. this man... THIS LOVELY SHARK BOY.

is literally textbook definition of GENTLEMAN.

will not act on his feelings until YOU act on them because he’s scared he’ll overstep so he’s going to be like..... suffering in silence. but he doesn’t mind!!!!!!

holds the door 4 u. :)

checks on u 24/7.

stares at you in class and drools.

walks with you like everywhere. literally. like to class, to the dorms, back to ur parents, to the mall. everywhere.

this is totally a best friend to lovers trope.

whenever he’s got doubt he will turn to u immediately because he trusts u and ur guidance.

will even ask if u could spar with him (so you can a, spend time with him but b, because he wants u to be able to be the best version of urself u can be).

whenever something goes south he will put his hand out in front of u. always. and you’ll wrap your fingers around his bicep and he will melt.

i think he knows he’s like... fucked because you explain to him that although his ‘hardening’ quirk makes his skin... rough, he’s still pretty soft. and smells nice.

man... that gets him THROUGH THE DAYS.

TODOROKI SHOTO,

another clueless boy.

is very confused at first but after some hours of research he’s like oh.

and then shit hits the fan.

like kirishima, really values your input and actually goes to you for advice for two reasons: one because you’re sensible and honest but it’s more for the simple reason that he’s trying to see what you like and don’t like.

you start to notice some changes in his behavior. not drastic ones but enough to raise an eyebrow.

is more vocal in his conversations with you.

tries his best to improve his body language (ie: will face you with undivided attention and arms unfolded to look more receptive)

just stares at you in general to see what your reactions to things are.

like, in the hallway when ur talking to mina and the lowerclassmen says something stupid and the two of you scowl? well, guess what? now he doesn’t like that guy either and will give him a piece of his mind.

has your coffee order memorized so when ur staying up all night studying u have the energy to do so.

will sneak a protein bar and a water bottle in ur locker the day after those binge studying sessions to ensure that you’re you know okay.

#todoroki x female reader #todoroki headcanons #todoroki x fem!reader #kirishima x female reader #kirishima x fem!reader #kirishima headcanons #kaminari x fem!reader #kaminari x female reader #kaminari headcanons #tenya x fem!reader #tenya x female reader #tenya headcanons #bakugou x fem!reader #bakugou x female reader #bakugou headcanons #deku x fem!reader #deku x female reader #deku headcanons #bnha headcanons #mha headcanons #( i really don't feel like i did this well buT I HOPE U LIKE IT FIRST ANON!!!!!!!#I LOVE U!!!!!!#if it's not what u want let me know and i'll redo!!!! )#: ̗̀➛ first anon.#( shoto todoroki ) / * headcanons .#( eijiro kirishima ) / * headcanons .#( denki kaminari ) / * headcanons .#( tenya iida ) / * headcanons .#( katsuki bakugou ) / * headcanons .#( izuku midoriya ) / * headcanons .

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blackcherrykiss · 3 years

Text

BLOOD BOUNDARIES - Enhypen OT7 Fanfic (ch.5)

[CH.1] [CH.2] [CH.3] [CH.4] previous chapters

[CH.6] next chapter (now available!)

genre: vampire au, romance, drama, mystery, thriller

note: written inspired by enhypen's storyline, given-taken lyrics & teasers. please keep in mind all members are apart of this fanfic and the main theme is mystery/drama!

P.S Niki and Sunoo's roles become bigger in later chapters :) sorry I took 2 weeks to update. School + new enhypen teasers made me alter the story now jesus their lore is confusingly interesting. Didn't proofread half of this chapter LOL. Happy readings <3

"Well now that everyone is here, I'd like to announce we have a new student who just transferred here." Your eyes were immediately drawn to the student's platinum blonde hair. Despite his sharp and charismatic face, his eyes were delicate and innocent. He had an exceptionally small face and a sunkissed skin tone. The new student snapped himself around so that the entire classroom got a good look at him, "Hello, my name is Park Jongseong or Jay, call me whatever you feel." He bowed slightly, his voice having a cool ring that played over in your head.

"Everybody please welcome Jay to our astronomy class. Lend him any of our previous notes because midterms are coming up and I'd appreciate as a teacher if you guys helped him catch up before our long weekend coming up in two weeks." Your teacher gave a warm smile, nodding in such a way that made the rest of the class nod with her.

Without a student saying a word, everyone's eyes followed him as he took a seat at a desk a couple of rows in front of you.

You stared at him tirelessly, barely listening as your teacher rambled off-topic. You noticed Jay often stared out at the crying sky that occasionally flickered with lightning. His eyes focused intently on the woods. You were sure you weren't the only one who was interested in the new boy as you frequently caught other students glancing over at him every few seconds. Jay carried an attractive and dark aura that clearly contrasted from the crowd. Both girls and boys stared at him not because of his pretty face but because he was far different from the new students who had joined your school mid-semester.

The class flew by for you because of Jay until a simple but intriguing question was purposed by the teacher, "Bonus marks today if anyone can guess when the next full moon is." she lifted her eyes off the projector for a few moments, waiting for answers to come sailing.

"Saturday?" Somebody from the front called out, followed by numerous answers that ranged between the second week to the fourth week of the month.

"Come on now. Don't blurt out, give others chances to guess. Jay why don't you guess?" Your teacher questioned welcomingly, expecting no answer from him.

He leaned back in his chair, scraping the non-writing end of his ballpen on his thumb, "November 30." A gentle sound of thunder playing perfectly when he said the answer; like some sort of scene out of a comic.

"Ding ding ding!" Your teacher switched to a PowerPoint slide with the new unit name bolded, "I know this isn't part of the curriculum but I got it approved by the head of the school." She took a breath, giving students time to comprehend what was presented in front of them. "Our next unit will be looking deeper at the moon. More specifically, we'll be looking at both the sciency and non-sciency sides of this topic. And before anyone asks; no, you don't need to believe in astrology or superstitions to understand the non-sciency material. It's just very fascinating because it connects to many cultures." Your attention was now far away from Jay. You were enthusiastic about a topic for once in the class.

"And looks like we're running out of time." Your teacher's wrist clock blocking her eyes. "That's it for today's class everyone! I'll have your projects marked for next class, I promise! Have a good day." She said while shutting off the projector.

You slid all your handouts into your binder, not bothering to align the three-hole punches of the papers to their designated rings.

"Y/N before you go, do you mind helping out Jay? Today or tomorrow?" Your teacher stopped you on your way out.

"Like lend him my notes?"

"Yep! I just forgot to ask but he just left so you might be able to catch up to him. Maybe ask if he's got the notes yet."

You waved your goodbyes and chased the new boy down, his uniquely blonde hair standing out from the hallway of heads. You picked up the pace to catch up with his swift steps when you caught him chatting with Sunghoon and Jaeyun. Your feet froze straight down in their place.

Were they new friends? Or perhaps they were old friends?

You weren't going to bother talking to Jay as you already knew what kind of funny business would come up if you did. You could only watch them swing and lean their arms against each other in a close and friendly way. The picture was becoming more and more clear to you as to what kind of association Jay had with Sunghoon and Jaeyun perhaps even Heeseung, Sunoo or Jungwon.

...

You throw yourself violently over your thick mattress after finishing a long study and homework session at your dorm. The session wasn't productive but the time you spent surrounded by your schoolwork made it feel that way. Your dorm was awfully quiet that afternoon as your dormmates had music rehearsals for their extracurriculars. Nana had told you to come by the music rooms around a quarter past five when their practice was over to go down to the dining hall and have dinner but you couldn't think of a way to kill your remaining hour alone.

Phones were forbidden in your school and you often felt uncontrollably alone and bored with your thoughts during your free time. You could only lay tangled in your bed with your half progressed work in the corner of your eye. You shift on one side to watch your wide-open binder until you got some burst of motivation to finish studying until an idea hits you.

After eyeing your handouts from your astronomy class, you decide to hit the library and do some reading to get a little advanced in the class. Sure you could study for your other class but the sudden idea was far more worth your time in your mind. You quickly twirl out of your room, clearing your desk while you're at it. Excitedly, you hop into your shoes and head straight for the library. You were put in a good mood as you skipped along the long journey to the bookhouse.

The library was moderately packed as you don't bother to recognize any faces there. You get deja vu as you trail the same path you did when Sunghoon and Kyungeun were around. Sliding between the thin space between the bookshelves once again, you search for the section related to the moon, feeling dizzy at the sight of books your school owned. You could've made your life easier by asking the librarian but you were confident you could find it on your own. You move up and down the aisles as you catch a glimpse of theoretical and astrology related books that sit next to a couple of history books.

Backing up, you awkwardly bend your knees forward to get a better look at the small selection of books under the genre. You peel a random book spine out from its tight spot as if it had never been taken out before. You dust off the book a bit, reading the wordless cover and open it to check if it was really related to any sort of astronomy as you find a much stranger subject being discussed.

"Finding everything alright?" The librarian comes by, pushing a kart from the other end of the shelves. "I-I'm looking for books related to the moon." You say, standing up and forgetting you still had the old book in hand.

"The scientific information is just on the other side of this shelf but the section you were just looking at has some interesting stuff that might be related." The librarian stuffed herself in between the shelves to get toward you.

"Yeah, I noticed... This book I just picked up was talking about vampires." You laugh a little as you hold it up.

"Ah, that book..." She paused, snatching the book out of your hands to examine it, "I read this before... It relates to astrology. I think there are some parts of the book that go into detail about the moon, you should give it a read."

"Is this book just theoretical research about vampires though?" You were unconvinced with the idea.

"Yeah, real or not, our school grounds and the neighbouring town are talked about in the book. Apparently many years ago this place used to be a hotspot for vampires." She looked you dead in the eyes.

"Do you think the information is true?" You questioned with deep curiosity upon her answer.

"Some information in there is haunting. I think vampires did exist." She said with some sort of distress beginning to seep into her face.

Shivers ran down your spine, if she was just trying to sell you the book, it was working damn well on you.

"I'll leave you be, no need to sign out the book, nobody ever takes it out so I trust you'll return it." And with that said, she left you cold with mystery as the book between your fingers stared at you with big round eyes.

You shake back to reality, checking your wrist just to find out your time has vanished. You shift your priorities to getting to the music department, throwing the book into your bag without much thought.

...

The sun was already going down around the afternoon as the days got shorter with autumn blossoming. You're standing between rooms full of beautiful voices and instruments, peering through every window attached to a door in an attempt to find your roommates. The issue was the widows didn't give much of a view as to who was in the rooms. But your ears were drawn to a gentle piano that played a bittersweet melody beneath the louder sounds of people singing in a harmonious glee. As you move in the forward direction of the hallway, the piano gets clearer to your ears. It became clear that the sound was coming out of a room with its door wide open. Your back attached it to the wall in fear of being seen as slide yourself until you meet the spine of the door where you could see into the shadowy room.

Your eyes lit up when they see a familiar platinum blondie behind the keys. The melody was enchanting and was played in such a personal way as the sounds escaped into the noisy environment where it hoped to go unheard. Jay had reached the final notes of his song as he turned his head in your direction. It was as if he knew of your present from the moment you started watching him from the doorway.

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pastelwitchling · 3 years

Text

Somebody to You (1/4)

Chapter 1. Hidden Feelings

Alex Manes is Michael's best friend in the entire world. His platonic soulmate, in fact. That's why, when Michael discovers that Alex is in love with him, he panics. Rather than risk the loss of his friendship, Michael begs his brother Max to date Alex instead, and divert his affections. Though hesitant at first, Max agrees for the sake of helping his brother. But what happens when Max realizes that there is more to Alex than he first thought? Romance ensues, and as Max and Alex become closer, Max realizes that what had started as a favor to Michael has turned all too real. The only problem is that Michael never expected Max to actually fall in love. Can Max stay with Alex knowing that their beginning is based on the worst kind of betrayal?

High school was hard enough without your best friend falling in love with you.

Not that there was anything wrong with Alex Manes, guys and girls both had to admit he was pretty to look at, but he was Michael’s best friend. When he’d first come out to him last year, Michael had very pointedly not teased the question, You don’t have a crush on me, do you?

Now, he didn’t know whether or not that had been the right move. If he’d asked, would Alex have blushed and given himself away? Or would he have been insulted? Or would he have rolled his eyes at the question like he did any time Michael said something stupid?

Maybe if he’d asked, he wouldn’t have found out by accidentally eavesdropping on Alex’s private conversation with Liz. Maybe he wouldn’t have heard Alex’s tears, heard his voice as strung out as it had been, fueled by exhaustion and fear.

“What if he doesn’t say no?” Liz tried, the words more a plea than an actual consideration to Michael’s ears. He could hear her desperate desire for her own words to be true, and the resignation in the knowledge that they weren’t. “What if he likes you back?”

“He won’t,” Alex cried, and made Michael’s grip on the music room door handle tighten. “He’ll never talk to me again.”

“Michael loves you,” Liz insisted. “He’ll love you even if you want something more. Look,” she was speaking more quickly now, “maybe if you tell him, you’ll feel better. Right? That’s why you’re crying, isn’t it? It’s just another huge weight on your shoulders, but if he knows that you’ve loved him since middle school, then – then maybe at least he’ll stop rubbing his one-night stands in your face!”

She sounded furious at the mention of it. Michael thought about the last blonde, nameless girl he’d had two nights ago, the way he’d latched to Alex’s back the next day, eager to tell him all about it. The way Alex, the dark circles around his eyes darker for reasons other than the eyeliner, had shrugged him off and murmured some excuse about getting to class.

Shame swelled in his chest until he realized he had nothing to be guilty for. He hadn’t known Alex had feelings for him!

Oh god, he realized. Alex had feelings for him. His best friend – no, best friend wasn’t enough to describe what Alex was. His soulmate, the very half of his heart, wanted more than friendship from him.

He swallowed, about to walk away. He shouldn’t be hearing any of this. He shouldn’t know any of it. Then –

“No,” Alex said. “No, I’m just – I’m just tired.” He sniffled, and Michael imagined him roughly wiping his face with his sleeves. “I don’t want him to know.”

“Alex –”

“No, Liz,” he said more sternly, more afraid. “I don’t want him to know. You . . . when I told you, you promised you’d never tell him. You’re not going to –”

“No,” she breathed, appalled. “No, of course not. I’d never do that.”

“I know,” he said quietly. “I just . . . please, you can’t say stuff like that. It – I can’t – if he finds out –”

“Hey,” Liz said softly. “He won’t.”

“I can’t lose him,” he said and sniffled. “I’m just . . . upset because of my dad. The last thing I want is for Michael to leave me because of a stupid crush.”

A moment’s pause, then Liz tried, “Alex . . . it’s more than a crush.”

“Please,” Alex pleaded. “Don’t tell him. I never want him to know.”

“Okay,” Liz said, and Michael heard shuffling. He dared peek into the room and saw Alex there alongside the piano, his back to the door, Liz’s arms around his shoulders. Her eyes were closed, so she didn’t see Michael. “I promise, I’ll never tell him.”

Alex hugged her waist, and his body sagged with exhaustion against her. He hummed, but his voice waivered, like he was trying not to cry again.

Michael had left then, replaying everything he’d heard in his head. Alex liked him. No, Alex more than liked him. What was he supposed to do with that?

This wasn’t like finding out the local gay guy had fantasies about him. This was finding out the guy he trusted more than anybody, the guy he cherished more than anybody, had feelings for him. It felt like a threat to their friendship.

Michael slumped against the driver’s side of his truck, his backpack barely hanging off one hand. This was Alex. What was he supposed to do?

Alex liked him. His response? He clenched his jaw. No fucking way. He didn’t want to be in a relationship with Alex. It was Alex. It wasn’t that he couldn’t see holding his hand and going on dates with him and he’d seen him in the locker rooms. It was no wonder the girls here had had a memorial when they’d found out the hot emo musician only wanted men . . .

It didn’t matter. He didn’t want anything with Alex. He’d had too many one-night stands and too many nameless, faceless nobodies to know that love was only something that existed in his brother’s books. Getting intimate with someone meant risking losing them.

He clenched his fists. He would’ve rather died than lose Alex. He opened his truck door and climbed inside. He gripped his steering wheel tightly, unable to start it for a good minute as an unidentified dread settled in the bottom of his chest and climbed up through his heart.

When he parked in front of the junkyard where old man Sanders let him stay, and he found his brother Max sitting in a lawn chair, he understood what the dread was. It was the same thing he’d heard in Alex’s voice when it seemed like Liz might let his feelings for him slip; Raw fear.

As he stepped out, millions of worst-case scenarios swarmed his mind. What if Alex decided to tell him the truth? What if he blurted it one day in a fight? What if they were so happy that Alex got the courage to kiss him? What if things ended terribly and they lost each other?

Max raised a brow at him. “You look like hell. What happened?”

Michael could only shake his head as he took the seat opposite Max. He was due to work in half an hour, but sometimes Sanders let him rest up if he’d had a long day. And those last few minutes overhearing what he had in the music room had officially made this the longest day ever.

“Tell me something,” he sighed, leaning his head back and not at all paying attention to the dotted white clouds across the blue sky. “Anything.”

“Okay?” Max said more in the form of a question. “I – uh – saw Liz today. In the music room. With Alex.”

He groaned. “Anything else.”

Max nudged his knee with the back of his hand. “Hey, what’s wrong with you? You look like someone just smashed your guitar.”

My guitar. The guitar that Alex had given him because Michael had offhandedly mentioned once that music helped ease the noise in his mind. How had he not known then? Alex had paid such special attention to him. He had read his mind and known what his heart had wanted and given it to him when no one else bothered to look past the excitement of getting to rebel under the bleachers with the genius trailer trash.

How had he not known?

“I changed my mind,” he said. “Don’t speak. Just let me wallow.”

“Huh,” Max said. “Isobel’s been a fortress since she joined the Spring Dance committee, and you’re busy falling into your own despair for whatever reason.” He pulled a little brown leather notebook out of his back pocket. “Do any of my siblings have time for me?”

“I’m not falling into anything,” Michael grumbled. “Why do you have to get so poetic about . . . every . . . damn . . .” he trailed off, his eyes narrowing at the notebook. “Alex has that same notebook.”

Max hummed noncommittally, leaning back in his seat again and resting the notebook on his lap as he began doodling a rose. “Different colors though,” he said. “His is black. They got mixed up last week when he and I bumped into each other in the school hallway.”

An idea formed, somewhere in the back of his mind. Like water on ink; something definitely there, but unreadable. He leaned back again, wiping whatever the itch was from his eye.

“I don’t want to think about Alex right now,” he muttered, though even as he said it, his thoughts taunted him. Alex was all he could think about right now.

“Whoa,” Max blinked. Even he knew how much Alex and Michael treasured each other. Michael had never said he didn’t want to do something where Alex was concerned. “You guys have a fight or something?”

“No,” Michael said, though a fight might’ve been easier to deal with. “I found out . . . I heard Liz say . . .” He huffed, closing his eyes. He blurted. “Alex is in love with me.”

Silence. Michael opened his eyes and saw Max’s expression completely unsurprised. He looked like he was waiting for Michael to get to the point.

He straightened. “Are you kidding me? You really knew?”

Max scoffed. “You really didn’t?”

“No!” he gaped and stood. “He’s my best friend, why would I think he was in love with me?!”

“Because he’s your best friend.”

“So?!”

“So!” Max said like it was obvious. “Alex hates people! Liz and Kyle are his only friends, he barely tolerates me and Isobel, and Rosa Ortecho swears he hissed at her once!” He huffed a disbelieving chuckle. “Before you came along, Liz told me he never said two words to anybody he hadn’t known since before his mom left. You want to take a guess as to why he warmed up to you so quickly?”

Michael didn’t answer. Max grabbed his arm. “And for the love of god, stop pacing, you’re making me nauseous.”

He tugged him down onto the lawn chair, and Michael sagged against it. He stared into the distance, lost in his memories of his first meeting with Alex. Alex had been bullied, pushed into a tree and made fun of for stares and feelings he had yet to understand himself. Then Michael had jumped between him and the bullies, waving a tree branch, screaming at them to get away or he would kill them.

It had been the wildness of his eyes and words, wildness he’d gained from years with monsters for parents, that had unnerved them in the end. Alex had taken his offered hand with wide eyes then, and timidly asked, “You’re not scared of me?”

Michael had known then that this twelve-year-old had been told too often that he was something unnatural, something wrong, and was expecting it from someone else now. So he’d looked Alex over, as if checking for bruises, and rested the branch on his shoulder like it had been a bat.

He’d grinned and said, “No fangs or a tail. You look fine to me!”

After that moment, Alex had followed him everywhere, his eyes never anything less than adoring.

Michael shut his eyes. How could he have not known?

A buzzing against his thigh snapped him out of his thoughts, and he pulled his phone out of his pocket. Alex was calling.

“Shit,” he leapt to his feet, holding the phone at a distance as if afraid that Alex could somehow see him through the camera. “Shit shit shit.”

“What?” Max followed and his shoulders slumped at the sight of Alex’s name. “Dude, just answer. He doesn’t know you know, remember?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Yeah, right, yeah.”

“It’s still just Alex.”

“Just Alex,” he repeated. “It’s just Alex.” He answered the call, held the phone to his ear, and all but yelled, “Hey!” He winced at himself and Max rolled his eyes.

“Hey?” Alex asked, laughter in his voice. He didn’t sound like he’d just been crying his eyes out at all. Then it hit Michael. Alex was abused. He was used to hiding his scars. “Why’re you screaming?”

“I’m not!” he said, then adjusted his volume with a clear of his throat. “I’m – uh – I’m not. What’s up?”

He loves me. He loves me, he loves me, he loves me.

Michael, so caught in the thought, completely missed what Alex had asked him. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Sorry,” he grit out, “say that again?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, is the auto shop really busy right now?” Alex asked like he knew the answer. “Pay attention, Guerin, this is important!”

Of course, Michael had ditched time and time again because they hardly had any cars in around now, and all Sanders did when he was an hour late was yell and grumble, then give him and Alex an extra plate of whatever he’d had for lunch.

“I asked what time you were coming to my gig tonight,” he said, a little more hesitantly. When Michael didn’t answer, he cleared his throat. “At the – uh – the Wild Pony? Just so I can save you a seat.”

Michael let his hand with the phone fall, his shoulders slumped. For years, he’d owed that nervous stammer in Alex’s voice, the way he went from confident to shy with just a second of Michael’s silence, to nerves about his gigs. Now he speculated it was because of something else.

Damn it. He wished he’d never known about Alex’s feelings. He wished he could unhear everything.

He realized Alex was talking again, and he held the phone to his ear.

“If you can’t make it,” he was saying, “I get it, I just need to know for the seats, you know?”

Michael had never canceled on Alex before, but Alex was a little sensitive where his music was concerned. Michael assumed it was because he had a father and brothers who belittled what he did every day, no matter how often Michael told him he loved his songs.

He gripped the phone tightly. He wondered what Alex would do if he canceled on him now.

“Michael,” Max mouthed, “talk to him.”

“Guerin,” Alex huffed a laugh. It sounded forced. “Dude, it’s fine. It’s one gig, I think our friendship will survive.”

Will it? Michael feared. Will it survive this, Alex? Will it survive feelings that friends shouldn’t have for each other? Will it survive if I can’t help but look into the double meaning of every word you say now?

He felt oddly frustrated with Alex, like this was his fault somehow. Like he was singlehandedly destroying everything they’ve ever had by wanting more.

“Is it another gig?” Max asked, nudging his elbow. “Will Liz be there? Ask him if Liz will be there.”

Michael rolled his eyes, about to snap at his brother that this was not the time. Couldn’t he see that Michael was suffering some emotional turmoil over here?

“Guerin,” Alex tried again. “Are you there?” He heard a sigh, and Alex mumbled, “Is the reception bad?”

Michael hated this. He was starting to scare Alex, and it was the very last thing he wanted to do. Max was still asking about Liz, his notebook, just like Alex’s but a different color, in his hand, and Michael clenched his jaw. Max liked Liz, but it would be so much easier for everyone if . . . if . . .

His eyes widened. The idea that had begun to sink below the depths of his mind surfaced now. Before he could make it out completely, he found himself saying, “Sorry, hang on a second, babe, my brother keeps trying to talk to me.”

“Oh!” relief flooded Alex’s voice and he chuckled breathlessly. It sounded so much more real, and that hurt Michael all the more. “Yeah, sure! God, Michael, you freaked me out a second there. Yeah, take your time.”

Michael covered the speaker on his phone and told Max quietly, “I need you to come to Alex’s gig with me.”

Max’s eyes widened. “Liz will be there?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Michael said. “I need you to ask out Alex.”

Max stared a moment, then, “What?”

Michael held up a finger to his brother and brightened his tone when he told Alex, “Hey, Alex, can I bring Max to your gig tonight?”

“W-wait,” Max said, “Michael, what’d you mean, ask out Alex? Was that a joke?”

Michael ignored him as Alex scoffed. “Sure. But you’re definitely coming, right? Because I was totally lying before. If you don’t make it, I’ll never talk to you again.”

Michael smiled and almost said, Would I ever not show up for you?, realized how Alex might take it, and diverted at the last second.

“Uh – yeah – see you tonight, then.”

It was awkward and unnatural for them, but Alex hardly seemed to notice, lost in his own happiness, as he told Michael he’d see him tonight, and hung up.

He barely met Max’s dark eyes and crossed arms when Max said, “No.”

“Hear me out –”

“If your next sentence doesn’t end with, ‘and then everyone will laugh, and it’ll totally take the edge off,’ I don’t want to hear it.”

“One date!” he begged, following Max back to the chairs and their backpacks. “Just one! Consider it a birthday present to me! For the next five years – no, ten years!”

“This isn’t a favor, Michael!” Max argued. “I’m not going to ask your best friend out just so you can avoid having to talk about this!”

“But –”

“Besides,” Max said, grabbing his bag and slinging it over his shoulder, “I’m not gay or bisexual or pansexual or anything. He’d smell a fake a mile away.”

“You’d totally pass for bisexual!” Michael argued. “Look at you” – he tapped Max’s arms, his chest, his notebook – “you have the whole muscly jock with a tender heart thing going on, come on!”

Max stared. “Do you hear yourself?”

“Max,” he urged. “I need you to do this one thing for me! I’d do it for you!”

“You wouldn’t have to,” Max said. “I don’t pass off people who like me to my brother like a freaking torch.”

Michael winced, and Max sighed, his expression softening. “And I like Liz, remember?”

“Then this’ll be the perfect in for you,” he insisted. “Getting close to Alex means getting close to Liz. Then, in – in a month, just until the Spring Dance, you can smooth your way to Liz, and Alex will know the breakup is coming.”

Michael swallowed thickly before he said, “I know him. He hates being left behind, so he’ll end things first.”

Max shook his head. “And he’ll be heartbroken. Assuming your plan works. Is that what you want, Michael?”

Michael hesitated, then, “It’ll just break for a minute.” He added quickly, “Th-then I’ll come in, and he won’t want to date your brother, so he’ll know we’re better off as friends.”

He pursed his lips a moment, then walked past him. “You’re crazy.”

Michael clenched his jaw and blocked Max’s path. “I can’t date Alex,” he said fiercely. “I can’t.”

“He doesn’t know you overheard anything,” Max told him, not unkindly. “Can’t you just . . . play along?”

Michael shook his head, his fists tight at his side. “It’ll come out,” he said. “I know it will. Please, Max, I . . . I can’t lose him. I need you.”

Those were the words, Michael knew, that Max could never say no to. Those were the words that he and Isobel used only in extreme cases, when guilt for taking advantage of their brother’s good heart had to be put aside to fix whatever had happened. Michael hated using them, had used them only once before in his life, but knew he had to use them again now.

Max sighed and looked away, something like resignation settling in the slump of his shoulders. A moment’s pause, then – “Alex hates me.”

“No,” Michael breathed, already smiling despite the pinch in his chest that he would’ve rather not thought about. “You said it yourself, he barely tolerates you.” He took Max’s journal and held it up. “And if anyone can make something into something more, it’s a writer.”

Max wasn’t good at being a boyfriend. Not that he’d ever been anyone’s boyfriend, but that was the problem. He had no idea how to flirt or tease or ask anyone out. It was why he’d spent the better part of the last year pining after Liz Ortecho, stumbling through his hellos.

Now, for whatever reason, he was prepping himself to ask out someone for the first time in his life. And it was Liz’s best friend. The things he did for his siblings . . .

As Michael parked his truck outside the Wild Pony, Max thought about the few times he’d seen Alex around town. He was reminded of the Greek mythology stories he loved reading; of Hades, Lord of the Underworld, and how sunlight couldn’t touch him. He was nothing like his brothers who were all on one sports team or another. Who seemed to have no problem being popular.

Though none of them, he knew, were like Alex. The dark prince, the one everyone wanted to know for his mystery, but the one who didn’t want anyone near him. The one people gave up on because he was too difficult to approach.

You had to have an in. And, Max supposed, Michael was his in.

“Remember,” Michael was telling him as they left the truck. “His favorite song is Welcome to the Black Parade, don’t get him a beer until after his set, and whatever you do, do not insult Star Wars. He didn’t talk to Valenti for two days when he thought there were Jedis in Star Trek.”

Max started to laugh, saw that Michael was watching him expectantly, and huffed. “Would you calm down? I’m the one who gets to worry here. There’s no way Alex will let me come within three feet of him.”

“I already told you,” Michael said. “You have me. You just think about being your usual charming self –”

“Is that supposed to be another joke?”

“—And Alex will be happy to have you.”

Michael stopped abruptly just as they reached the doors. He turned to Max and pointed a warning finger. “Just don’t kiss him.”

Max blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Don’t kiss him,” he repeated seriously. “That’s . . . it’s too far. He deserves to be kissed by someone who . . . really wants to kiss him.” He shook the thought out of his head. “Just – just don’t kiss him.”

“I won’t kiss him,” Max held his hands up. “I don’t want to anyway.”

“And don’t talk that way around him,” Michael grit out. “Anyone would be lucky to have Alex.”

Max looked to the skies for aid. “Then you date him!”

“I can’t,” was all Michael said, and tugged on Max’s arm. “Come on, you’ll do great.”

The Wild Pony doors opened to chatter and cowboys and clanking drinks. Max heaved a sigh, tapping his fingers on his thigh. He could do this. He could do this.

Michael patted his back and went on ahead. Max followed, thinking of what he’d say to Alex when he saw him.

He considered, “What’s up?”, “How’s it hanging?”, “‘Sup, bro!”, and winced at himself. He needed more time to think of something, but he didn’t have any. He spotted Liz first, and Kyle and Alex beside her. Liz and Kyle were laughing about something, but Alex was focused on his music sheets, his fingers running over the keys as if making sure he knew the song by heart.

Right then, Max realized what a terrible idea this was.

“Michael,” he tried, reaching for his brother’s shoulder. “I – I think we should talk about this –”

“Alex!” Michael called, and went ahead. Max was left stumbling behind him.

Alex glanced up and smiled at the sight of Michael. “Hey! I saved you a seat up front!”

Michael looked like he was going to wrap an arm around his shoulders like he usually did, then his smile dimmed and he cleared his throat, patting Alex’s arm in the end.

“Duh, buddy,” he said. “What are friends for?”

Alex glanced down for a fraction of a second before his smile returned and he pulled Michael to behind the keyboard to look at his song. It was like Max wasn’t there.

Michael seemed to notice that, too. He raised his brows pointedly at Max, and Max cleared his throat, stepped forward, and said, “H-hey, Alex.”

Alex looked up like he thought he heard someone talk to him, and his eyes met Max’s. His brows furrowed and he pressed his lips together, clearly confused as to why Michael’s brother was talking to him.

“Hi,” he murmured. “So, Guerin, look at this, I used the lyrics you came up with yesterday.”

“Uh –” Michael barely glanced at the page. “Hope you don’t mind that I brought Max,” he said, pulling Max forward. “He really wanted to hear you sing.”

Alex narrowed his eyes at Max. “If he’s here to, like, make fun of me or something –”

“No,” Max said at once. “No, I – I really do . . . like . . . music.”

Alex stared a moment. Then he looked away, uncomfortable, and took Michael’s hand. He muttered, “Is he coming with us for ice cream after?”

Michael chuckled and subtly removed his hand from Alex’s. Max could see the flash of hurt in Alex’s eyes before it was gone, and he thought he might’ve imagined it.

“We’ll see,” Michael said, “about the ice cream, okay?”

Alex scoffed and bumped their shoulders. “Yeah, okay. The day Michael Guerin says no to ice cream is the day Kyle Valenti gets into med school.”

“Hey!” Kyle argued.

“I’m kidding!” Alex laughed. “I knew you were listening in, you freak!”

Kyle pulled Alex to him, and Michael kept laughing until he whipped around to face Max, then his smile fell away and he hissed, “Work with me here!”

“I’m trying,” Max hissed back. “I am making him uncomfortable, Michael.”

“He’s just not used to you talking to him,” he whispered. “Just – just – just . . . move in there!”

He pushed Max forward, and Max nearly stumbled into Alex’s keyboard. Alex looked startled.

“Max,” Liz blinked, “are you okay?”

Kyle tilted his head. “You drunk already, dude?”

“Uh . . .” Max started, and pointed at the keys. “I like your piano.”

Alex raised a brow. “It’s actually not mine. It belongs to the bar.”

“Oh.” Max nodded. “W-Well, you look really cool. I wish I could play the piano, so that’s – that’s really cool.”

“Thanks?”

“Can I – uh – can I buy you a beer? After your set?”

His face burned as Alex stared. Then, while still watching Max apprehensively, Alex called, “Guerin?”

Michael didn’t answer. Max turned to find that he’d started talking up the first blonde he’d found. Asshole, he thought, clearly looking for any excuse to leave him alone with his best friend.

He looked back at Alex, and saw that he was watching Michael, too. His shoulders had fallen, and his brows pinched, but there was no surprise in his face. He was so used to Michael ignoring him when a better offer came along.

He knew he should say something, though he didn’t know what. If Alex thought of Michael as nothing but a friend, this wouldn’t have hurt him.

Liz then suddenly wrapped her arms around Alex’s waist, tighter and tighter until he burst into laughter. Kyle picked up the music sheets and complained why Alex never played any heavy metal.

“You dress like you play it,” he said, “is all I’m saying!”

They were clearly trying to distract him from whatever Michael was doing. Max scratched the back of his head, not knowing what to do himself.

When the show started, Michael was already in his seat, pulling Max to sit down beside him. Liz clapped the loudest and Kyle offered a thumbs up. Michael kept his arms crossed, as if afraid anything he did would be taken the wrong way. Max could see Alex’s momentary confusion before Mimi DeLuca announced his song.

Max was looking everywhere, namely at Liz, until Michael nudged his side with his elbow, and Alex started playing. As the first few notes fell together like a soothing waterfall, Max started. He looked to Alex, eyes wide. This was his music? He didn’t know why, but he’d imagined, like Kyle had teased, heavy metal or I-hate-everything ballads. But this . . .

Not thirty seconds in, Max’s eyes had fallen shut.

He had no idea how it had happened. One second, he was in a wooden chair at a bar where most of the crowd was laughing and talking over the music. The next, he found himself in a forest, surrounded by pine trees, with a clear lake behind him.

When Alex started to sing – who knew he had such a smooth voice? – Max then felt the breeze of a desert night across his cheeks, the stars and full moon bright above, the rest of the world turned to peaceful quiet.

The further along Alex got in his song, the more Max’s fingers itched to write. He couldn’t remember the last time ideas poured into his head like this, the last time he felt his heart swell with the anticipation of creating something.

This was a song Alex had made up. Had he always had such talent? Max had never been to one of his gig’s before because he’d never been invited. Or he had, and he had been lost in the chattering crowd in the back, not paying attention.

Now, he had to pay attention. He found it impossible to do anything else. When Alex finished, his friends and Michael stood to applaud. Liz screamed, Kyle whistled, and Michael looked prouder than Max had ever seen him of anybody. Max slowly did the same, staring.

Alex looked red-faced, but his eyes shone brightly and he smiled widely, like even he could feel the emotion he’d just created. He stepped down, running a hand through his dark hair, and accepted the bottle of water from Kyle with a thanks.

“Is it over?” he breathed after taking big gulps.

“Yeah,” Kyle laughed, ruffling his hair and messing it up again. “It’s over, buddy.”

“That’s my Alex,” Michael said before he could help it, and Max saw the blush deepen in Alex’s cheeks. Michael seemed to have realized his mistake, and handed a cold beer under the table to Max.

Max hesitated, then held it out for Alex to take.

Alex looked startled, but he was still smiling. “Thanks,” he murmured, accepting the bottle.

“So,” Kyle drummed his hands on the table. “Ice cream to celebrate?”

“Ice cream!” Liz yelled and Alex laughed. He turned to Michael.

“Ice cream?”

“Uh . . .” Michael looked over at the blonde he’d been flirting with. She waved to him from across the bar. Max saw the tick in his jaw, the way his fingers curled to fists under the table, and he knew that the last thing Michael wanted to do was cancel on Alex.

Yet that was what he did.

“Raincheck?” he said, and nudged his chin at the girl. “I think I’m about to live the Rockstar fantasy.”

Liz frowned, disapproving. “But you’re not the Rockstar. Alex is.”

“Well, the girls have to go somewhere,” he shrugged, already walking backwards. “If any guys show up, I’ll send ‘em your way, babe.”

“O-Oh,” Alex’s brows pinched. “Okay . . .”

“Max can take my place!” he offered, and turned his back to them. “See you tomorrow!”

“Jackass,” Kyle muttered.

Max opened his mouth to defend Michael, not knowing what he’d say exactly, when Alex said, “He’s just been really stressed out lately. He – he has all those honor classes. I think he should let off a little steam.”

Liz did not look like she agreed. “Alex . . .”

“It’s okay, really,” he said, then managed a smile that did not reach his eyes. “More for us, right?”

Max stared. “You really care about him, don’t you?”

“Of course I do,” Alex said simply, and looked at Michael’s retreating form with a forlorn look. “He’s my best friend.”

Alex seemed distracted. No matter how much Liz and Kyle tried to pull him into conversation, the best he could manage was a smile that even Max could tell was fake. Max felt kind of bad for him. He seemed to really be trying his best to cheer up, but every time a blonde girl or any straight couple passed, his mood dimmed again, like he couldn’t help but wonder what Michael was doing now.

Not knowing what else to do, Max nudged his arm and asked the only question he could think to. “Did you really write that song you sang tonight?”

Alex looked confused as to why Max would ask him anything, and he shrugged a shoulder. “Yeah.”

Max shook his head. “That’s so cool,” he breathed. “It – I mean, it was really good.”

Alex checked to make sure Liz and Kyle were too caught up with each other to hear them, then said, “Okay, what’s your deal, Evans? Why are you suddenly being so nice to me?”

Max frowned. “I’ve always been nice to you.”

Alex raised a skeptical brow. “You’ve always been polite. And that’s only because I’m friends with your brother. I know you’re as scared of me as everyone else.”

“That’s not true!” Max said at once. “I’m scared of everyone!”

Alex blinked, and Max realized too late what he’d said. He blushed and looked down, expecting to be laughed at. When he heard Alex huff an incredulous chuckle, he shut his eyes tight, humiliated.

Then he said, “You? Mr. Perfect?”

“I’m not perfect.”

Alex scrunched his nose. Max was reminded of a kitten. “Aren’t you though? Tall, dark, and handsome,” he nudged his chin at the notebook poking out of Max’s back pocket. “And you write.”

Max smirked. “But you’re all of those things.”

Alex blinked, startled, and Max could’ve sworn he saw a pink tint across his cheeks. Maybe it was just too dark.

Max cleared his throat and went on. “You should know then, better than anyone, that it doesn’t matter how good-looking you are. Sooner or later, some people just give up trying to get close to you.”

“Is that what you’re doing?” Alex scoffed halfheartedly. “Trying to get close to me?”

He wouldn’t look at Max as he said it, as if he was sure that was not what was going on. It made Max’s words come out more smoothly than he’d expected. “Yes. It is.”

Alex stopped, surprised. Max also stopped and faced him. He could see Liz and Kyle stop out of the corner of his eyes, and prayed they couldn’t hear him.

When he spoke, the lie left his lips with a little more trouble. “I like you, Alex. I – I always have. I’ve wanted to talk to you for years, but I . . . I’m not good at . . .” he gestured at his entire self, as if to say everything about him was an obstacle.

“That’s why Michael brought me to the show tonight,” he said. “He knew I’ve wanted to talk to you forever. And I finally got to.”

Alex stared, his expression unreadable. For a terrifying moment, Max wondered if he saw through the charade. Then he said, “You like me?”

He said it more like a statement, a dare. Max could only nod once, gripping his notebook so tightly his knuckles turned white.

Then he saw it. The doubt and suspicion behind Alex’s eyes. Alex sighed and kept walking. “Then let’s see how long,” he said, “until you give up, too.”

Max Evans stared. A lot.

Alex was not new to people watching him. Everyone was usually curious about the youngest of the Manes brothers until they realized just how different and unapproachable Alex was, and then their curiosity’s limit showed.

But the longer Max stared, the more curious he seemed to become. If he wasn’t glancing at Alex’s hair or eyeliner, he was looking at Alex’s bracelets, the rings on his fingers, the drawings on his shirt, his necklace, his nail polish.

Alex felt like he was being studied. It was weird. He wished Michael was here to get Max to stop staring. He wished he could snap at Max to look away, but the guy was like a walking cinnamon roll. It was impossible to get angry at him without feeling bad.

When Alex ordered his Neapolitan ice cream, Max not only insisted on paying for it, but offered a spoon of his own lemon sherbet cup for Alex to try.

“Don’t you have, like, hundreds of other friends you could be spending Friday night with?” Alex finally asked.

“Just my brother and sister,” Max confessed, picking at his sorbet. “Hey, since it’s Saturday tomorrow, y-you want to do something?” Then, as if it was an afterthought, added, “Together.”

“No,” Alex grumbled around his spoon.

“Why not?”

“Because I always spend Saturdays with Michael,” he said, and immediately longed for Michael again. He wondered if he was having a lot more fun than Alex was right now. He tried not to think any harder about where Michael might be.

“Oh,” Max said quietly. Alex glanced at him and saw that he was awkwardly tipping the melted part of his sherbet into his mouth. His lips twitched before he quickly schooled his features.

He thought that would be the end of that conversation, but then Max asked, “If he cancels, you wanna do something?”

Alex frowned. “Why would you think he’d cancel?”

“Just . . .” he shrugged. “He kinda does what he wants, you know?”

“Michael never cancels on me,” Alex bit back.

He nodded, but wouldn’t look at Alex again. “Sorry.”

Alex faltered. There it was, that guilt again. Saturdays belonged to him and Michael. He didn’t want anyone else coming along. He continued quietly eating his ice cream. At least maybe now Max would know to give up this ridiculous chase.

“Well, maybe Sunday then?”

Alex blinked and looked up. “W-What?”

Max was smiling nervously, swirling the contents of his sherbet. “There’s – well, there’s this museum for fine art pieces. I – I heard it’s really cool, I’ve been meaning to go, but Isobel and Michael don’t really . . . like paintings and sculptures.” He shook his head. “Sorry, I know you must not either, I – I don’t know why I thought you would –”

“Paintings?” Alex couldn’t help but ask. “Like Potthast? And Einaudi?”

Max blinked. “Y-You know about them?”

“I mean,” Alex scrunched his shoulders. “I’m not an idiot. I love any artist who pours themselves into their work. It’s” – he blushed – “inspiring.”

Max perked up. “Right?! I’d do anything to be a writer, you know? Seeing people love something as much as I love books, it kind of makes me feel like . . .”

“Like it all has to mean something,” Alex finished, smiling to himself. “I can’t love it this much for nothing.”

Max huffed a laugh. He looked surprised, his cheeks tinted pink. “Yeah! Yeah, exactly . . .”

Neither of them said anything for the next minute. Alex rubbed the sole of his shoe against the pavement and cleared his throat.

“I mean,” he finally said, “I guess . . . if I’m really not doing anything Sunday . . . I can come. B-But only if Michael’s coming, too! I don’t want you to get the wrong idea.”

Max didn’t say anything, and Alex chanced a glance at him to see he had a small smile.

“What?” he demanded. “I said I’d – I’d come. M-Maybe!”

Max nodded. “Er – can I have your number?”

Don’t do it, Alex thought. Don’t do it, don’t do it, don’t do it. Max was just a stranger.

But he’s not a complete stranger, he reminded himself. He was Michael’s brother, and if Michael was letting him get this close to their tight little group, then he must’ve trusted that Alex was safe around him. And he could trust Michael more than anyone to look after him. He knew he could.

“Yeah,” he said, handing Max his phone without looking at him. He saw Liz and Kyle watch him from across the street where they were twirling around a lamppost. They were tilting their heads and smirking, like they knew something he didn’t.

Alex cleared his throat, and, as if his friends could hear him, added in a mutter, “Whatever.”

Even Max smiled at that.

The next morning, Max woke to knocking on his window. He saw Michael and leapt out of bed, letting him in.

“Can’t you knock like a normal person?”

“Didn’t want to wake anyone else up,” he said. He smelled like he’d spent all of last night drinking, but his curls were wild, like he’d walked for hours in the desert instead of lying in someone’s bed.

He nudged Max aside and sat cross-legged on his bed, shoes and all. “Tell me about Alex,” he said. “How’d last night go?”

Max put his pillows up and slumped against them. “Fine. Good. Okay, I guess. He was mostly quiet the whole time. Did you have to blow him off like that?”

Michael looked down and clenched his jaw. “Don’t remind me,” he grumbled. “I hated not being there. The whole time she was talking in my ear, I was trying not to get her to gag on me. I almost called Alex like fifty times!”

He shook his head, as if eager to be rid of the memory. “Forget me. So he didn’t say anything the entire night?”

“No,” Max said. “He did. I got him talking about music and other artists and stuff. I even asked him out to the museum today, just like you said.”

Michael clapped him on the shoulder, happy. “Yeah? Max Evans, you sly dog!”

Max couldn’t share in his enthusiasm. Would Michael have been so happy if he’d seen the look on Alex’s face last night? The way he defended him even when it was clear that his own heart was breaking?

“Yeah,” Max said, rubbing his eye. “Said no.”

“Well,” Michael shrugged a shoulder, “it’s not like he was going to fall in love with you in a few hours.”

“Actually,” Max said, “he said he might be able to come tomorrow. He can’t today because you guys usually hang out on Saturdays.”

Michael raised a brow. “Oh yeah?” He hummed, studying the blanket. After a long few minutes, he said, “I might . . . just call him and –”

“Er –” Max cut him off, “he was pretty adamant that you would never cancel on him. Even after . . . you kind of already did.”

Michael’s shoulders slumped, and he looked away. He muttered, “Yeah?”

“Yeah, Michael,” Max sighed. “Look, can’t you just talk to him about this? It looks like he really cares about you, I’m sure if you told him what you heard –”

“He’d hate me,” Michael said. “Imagine finding out that the one person you like knows you like them, and it makes them uncomfortable. Would you ever be able to look them in the face again?”

Max pressed the heel of his palm into his eye. “And you’re sure you don’t like Alex like that? At all?”

Michael looked up, holding his brother’s gaze. Max had never seen him so fierce. “I can’t date him, Max.”

“Why not?” Max said. “You don’t think your relationship would survive a breakup?”

“I can’t risk it,” he said. “I won’t.”

Max almost pointed out that that wasn’t an answer, but decided not to. “Fine, well,” he laid back down and turned his back to Michael, trying to fall asleep again. “He’s not going anywhere with me on a Saturday, so see you tomorrow.”

Michael did not leave, or say anything for a good long while. Then Max heard shuffling, and tapping. He peeked an eye open and saw Michael texting. Immediately, the look on Alex’s face last night hit him and he sat up.

“What’re you doing?” he demanded, reaching for Michael’s phone. Michael kept himself out of reach. “Michael, I told you, if you cancel –”

“I’m not canceling,” Michael murmured, brows pinched. “Just texting someone.” His finger hovered over the screen a moment before he hit send. “There,” he said, pocketing his phone. He didn’t look any happier than he’d been seconds ago. “Now Alex will be the one asking you out.”

Max’s shoulders slumped. “What’d you do?”

Michael didn’t answer, but the guilt on his face said it all. He was about to break Alex’s heart.

Alex had woken early. Last night he’d climbed through his window to his father banging on his door. He’d managed to sneak under the covers and play asleep the second Jesse had burst through, but he knew his luck wouldn’t last.

It hadn’t mattered, because there was nothing that was going to keep him from an entire day with Michael. So he’d risen early, forgotten about breakfast at the risk of running into his father and being trapped inside again, and just had water from the hydro flask he kept by his bed – he didn’t care, he would eat later with Michael. He’d thrown on his favorite skull and crossbones t-shirt, his silver skull choker, and his rings.

He felt silly fixing his hair in the mirror, running his hand through it so that the strands looked windswept. It wasn’t hard, as his hair rarely stayed down neatly. He’d learned to live with it.

Michael wouldn’t ever like him like he liked girls, he knew that, but maybe . . . maybe some part of him might find Alex attractive. Maybe he might look at him differently without realizing that he was looking at him differently.

It was dumb, but he could hope.

At least, he had hoped until Michael met him in front of their favorite coffeeshop with his arm around Maria DeLuca’s shoulders. Alex had been holding two coffees, a caramel macchiato for him and a mocha for Michael, because he loved chocolate. He’d nearly dropped them at the sight.

“Hey!” Michael called.

“Uh – hey, Alex,” Maria smiled awkwardly. “Guerin,” she said, “I thought we were hanging out today.”

“We are!” Michael smiled widely, taking his coffee and handing it to her. “With Alex! I always spend Saturdays with Alex.”

“B-But . . .” Alex looked between them. He could feel his heart slowly sinking into his stomach. He pressed his lips together in a quick smile to Maria and tugged Michael aside by his sleeve. “What’s going on?” he whispered. “We always spend Saturdays together.”

Michael tilted his head. “We are together.”

“Alone,” Alex insisted. “Just you and me, remember? We’ve never invited anyone else. And . . . Guerin, Maria?”

Michael laughed. He was laughing far too easily, and smiling way too much. He knew that of all people, bringing Maria would be a real sting. Didn’t he care about how Alex felt? And today of all days?

“Come on, Alex,” he said. “I’m just trying to have a little fun here.”

Alex felt like he’d just been slapped. “S-So being with me isn’t fun?”

Michael rolled his eyes like he thought Alex was messing around. Alex, horrifically, thought he might cry.

“Am I supposed to turn down a hot girl for you?” he said, taking Alex’s coffee and having a sip. “Seriously, so Maria’s coming. What’s the big deal, right? I mean, it’s not like we’re dating.”

He reached out to pat Alex’s shoulder, but Alex flinched back, away from his touch. For a split second, Michael’s face fell and he looked mortified. But it was gone so quickly that Alex was sure he must’ve imagined it.

��He felt guilty, and dramatic, and pathetic. He felt cast aside, unwanted. All of that was okay, he was used to it. Maybe not from Michael, never from Michael, but he was used to it.

So he did what he always did when he was reminded just how worthless he was. He forced his chin up, exhaled shakily, and kept his words steady. “I actually just remembered that Max wanted to go to a museum thing today.”

Michael was still smiling. It felt wrong, but Alex couldn’t look at him too long to read into it. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” Alex took another few steps back. He couldn’t remember ever wanting to be away from Michael, but at this moment nowhere felt far away enough. “He sounded like he really wanted me to go with him, but I had to say no because of today.” He moved further away. “I really wanted to go, too, to be honest. It sounded cool.”

“Yeah?” Michael sounded quieter. Maybe that was just because of the distance between them.

“So if you’re going to hang out with someone else, then I guess it’s okay if I go, too?”

Michael didn’t answer for a minute. “Yeah. No, yeah, that’s great. Works out for both of us, huh?”

Alex turned around so Michael didn’t see his face fall. “Yeah,” he said, and began walking away. “Guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Before Michael could say anything else, Alex pulled out his phone. He wouldn’t dial until he rounded the corner and was out of Michael’s sight. He fell back against the wall, his legs giving out under him. He held the phone to his forehead, breathing deeply.

Kyle, he knew, was on a camping trip for the weekend with his dad. Liz was busy working shifts at the Crashdown.

It’s okay, Alex told himself. It’s okay. You don’t need anybody. It’s okay.

He may not have needed anyone, but he didn’t want to be alone today. So he dialed Max’s name, and held the phone to his ear.

It rung twice, then Max answered. “Alex?” There was hesitation in his voice that made Alex blush. Was he not actually expecting Alex to call?

“Er – hey,” Alex murmured, and rubbed his face with one hand. “Look, t-turns out I’m free today after all . . . If you . . . still want to go to the museum . . .”

Max didn’t answer for a long few seconds.

“O-Or not,” he said quickly, “doesn’t really matter to me, I just thought –”

“Yeah!” Max said, “Yeah, I’m – sorry, I was changing. I’m ready to go when you are! Where do you want me to meet you?”

Alex’s shoulders slumped. He felt a strange relief trickling through his chest, but it didn’t ease the weight on his heart. He muttered, “Wherever you want. Just text me the address.”

He waited for Max’s okay, then hung up. He rested his chin on his knees as he waited for the message to come in, closing his eyes and promising himself that he would not cry.

Max didn’t live in a house. He lived in a mansion. The two story villa stretched out over a valley of cacti and desert flowers, the windows long and the front doors big enough to fit ten grown men standing side by side. Michael had once told Alex how he’d sneak in through his brother and sister’s windows, and Alex now had to wonder how.

No sooner had he gotten to the door than Max came stumbling out, a bag thrown over his shoulder.

“Hey,” he panted, “let’s go.”

Without waiting for Alex’s greeting, he bodily turned Alex around and nudged him back toward the road. Alex was not new to being hidden away by boys who’d rather their parents not see him, but he’d already had his plans with Michael ruined, and was in no mood to humor any homophobia.

“What?” he sighed. “Afraid mommy and daddy will know you asked out a guy?”

Max blinked, surprised. He stopped. “What’re you talking about? I’m not trying to hide you from my parents.” He looked over his shoulder as if remembering they were supposed to be in a hurry, and frog-marched Alex away again.

“Oh?” Alex rolled his eyes. He tried to ground his heels to make it harder for Max but had no will to do it. He was tired, but anything was better than spending the day curled up in bed, abandoned and pitiful. “The who are we trying to hide from?”

“My . . . crap . . .” Max trailed off, and, following his gaze, Alex understood why. At the end of the road, her arms crossed, her purse hanging off one elbow, was Isobel Evans. She did not look happy.

“Sneaking off?” she demanded. “Who do you think you are? Michael?”

“Isobel,” Max warned. “Not now.”

“Did you honestly think you could hide your date?” Isobel narrowed her eyes at Alex. “Huh. You weren’t kidding. It really is Alex Manes.” She reached a hand towards his face. “You were right, he is very pretty –”

“Isobel,” Max slid in between Alex and Isobel, forbidding her from touching him. “I never said that.” Then to Alex, “I never said that. N-Not that you’re not – I mean, clearly you are –”

He shook his head, and turned back to Isobel, his jaw clenched. “I’m not kidding, leave us alone.”

Isobel was relentless, tilting her head over her brother’s shoulder, since she was almost as tall as he was. “Oh, what do you think I’m going to do, Max? Get out of the way, let me look at him!”

“Alex,” Max said, his wary eyes on his sister, “I am so sorry about this.”

“Sorry about what?” she demanded. “I didn’t do anything! Get out of the way, Max! Do you have any idea how rare it is to get a look at him this up close?!”

“He’s not an octopus, Isobel!”

“It’s a compliment!” She told Alex, “It’s a compliment, it means you’re really cute.”

“We have to go,” Max insisted, fending off his sister’s reaching hands. “We have a thing at the museum and –”

“What museum? Why didn’t you invite me? I want to come with you!”

“NO!”

“Why not?”

“Because you’ll make it weird!”

“What does that even mean? Scared I’ll embarrass you in front of your new boyfriend?”

“Isobel!”

Watching them, Alex should’ve been annoyed. But Max was being gentle with his sister, and Isobel’s eyes were so genuine that Alex could tell her curiosity was innocent and eager. There didn’t seem to be a malicious bone in either of their bodies.

Crouching behind a building just half an hour ago, Alex had not thought he’d be able to smile for the rest of the day. Now, a giggle escaped his lips before he could help it.

Max and Isobel stopped and stared, wide eyed. Max’s cheeks were tinted pink. Alex pretended not to notice.

“Isobel,” he said wearily, “you want to come with us?”

Isobel looked momentarily surprised, then pleased, a satisfied grin stretching across her pink lips. She lightly shouldered her way past Max and hooked her arm around Alex’s.

“I like him,” Isobel said cheerfully, and pulled Alex down the road. Alex looked over his shoulder at Max, who blinked out of his haze and ran to catch up to them.

“Why would you invite her?” Max murmured.

Alex took one look at Isobel and smiled, something about her radiant demeanor an interesting contrast to the darkness he lived in. Maybe it was having a writer with him, maybe it was that he was kind of a writer himself, but he thought there was a fascinating story here between the three of them.

To Max, however, he merely shrugged a shoulder and smirked.

“Come on, Evans,” he said. “I wouldn’t want you to think this was a date.”

Max again blushed, and Alex again pretended not to notice.

Ahhhh here it is!!! Finally!!!

I know only three to four people may enjoy this, but I wrote it mostly for me, so my expectations are low. Or, I should say, that’s how I’m trying to keep them. Don’t ask me how long until the next chapter comes up, this is just supposed to be fun. Any questions about updates shall be ignored.

That said, if you did enjoy it, comment! Tell me what you liked, if it was funny, angsty, if it’s not your kind of thing but you decided to give it a chance anyway - I love that stuff. And share/reblog. You may not have liked it, but maybe someone else really will!

#alex manes #max evans #sheriff manes #max x alex #sheriff manes fic #roswell new mexico #roswell nm #sheriff manes fanfic #sheriff manes fanfiction #tyler blackburn #nathan dean parsons

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razrbladekiss · 3 years

Text

Tyrants | Chapter Two - Gutless

WORD COUNT: 4k

WARNINGS: Death (murder), brief descriptions of gore, Isla and Jax doing something very illegal

MASTERLIST

The morning sun was beating down upon the pair a little bit harsher now, inducing a sheen of sweat to coat over Jax's forehead.

But the perspiration could've formed as a result of coming to the realization that he'd just blown the brains out of an ATF agent, left his body to decompose on Tara's bathroom floor, and spilled his guts--not even twenty-four hours later--to Isla.

Jax knew that he could trust her with anything--he always had been able to trust her with anything. But there was something telling him that she didn't exactly feel too wonderful about his revelation.

Her arm lifted to run across her forehead, ridding the skin of a few salty droplets.

"What do you mean--"

"I mean I put a bullet through his fuckin' skull and blew his brains out, Isla! That's what I mean."

He ran a thumb over his lips, realizing that he should've kept his tone subdued so close to the main doors of the clubhouse.

"Jesus, Jax." She breathed out, pinching the bridge of her nose as he started to pace quietly. "I--I can't believe you're telling me this."

Well, she could. Really, there wasn't anything she could've put past Jax anymore. And when it came to Tara...The man was an idiot. Always had been.

"Why was Kohn even at her place?"

Jax was fidgety. Uneasy. She couldn't blame him for that, could she? Because he'd just fucking killed a man--but still.

He wasn't even trying to hide it.

"Or did you lure him there or something--"

"Shut up." He growled, grabbing her bicep with his left hand as he pulled her to the side of the building. "Just listen to me."

"I'm listening, Jax, but you don't seem to be telling me a lot."

Realizing that he wasn't offering very much explanation, he nodded. Jax let go of her and beckoned her closer, pleading eyes melting her fucking heart.

"Isla, please." He wrapped his arms around her, minding the bloodied shirt.

"What do you want me to do?"

Ringed fingers splayed over her cheek, pushing stray blonde hairs out of her face. He sighed hard. Exasperated.

"Help me get rid of him--"

"Jackson--"

"I'm not asking you to lug his dead body to the creek and throw him in. I'm just asking you to offer a helping hand and be a lookout or something."

Isla searched his features for a morsel of something that'd indicate Jax was messing with her. But he was dead serious--his face set to neutral, eyes glazed over.

"But--I--what about Cameron?"

"Tara and Chibs have it covered." He murmured, heeding the apprehension sail over her.

She was as strong and willing as she possibly could've been. Isla was consistently the person that Jax and Opie would turn to for advice when it came to their girls, or when they needed to be pointed in the right direction.

But he'd never asked her to do such a thing before.

Her loyalty outweighed her nervousness, however. He knew she'd never say no to helping him with such a matter--but it was still asking too much.

Chibs would've been furious that Jax felt it necessary to beg Isla for assistance during such a time, too. Hell, Gemma would've admonished him for it.

"Where is he?" She mumbled, hearing the clubhouse door open and an irritated grunt sounding from the front of the lot.

Jax held her close to his chest, a hand tracing over the skin of her shoulder that'd been exposed as the shirt fell to the middle of her arm.

"Tara's place." His whisper was monotonous, bordering on lifeless.

"Okay--when do you need to do this?"

He eyed Tig storming from the building and toward his motorcycle, completely unaware of the two conspiring.

"Tonight." His voice came low and gravely. "I'll ride to her place now, and you go home, get yourself cleaned up, do whatever you've gotta do today, and we'll head there--"

"I'm not cleaning myself up. I'm already covered in blood--I don't think I need to destroy another shirt."

"Okay." Jax's lips rubbed together, almost turning upward into a smile. "But don't follow me out, alright? Go tell Gemma that you don't know where I went, and then you take it from there."

"And if Tara asks..."

A gentle kiss against her forehead almost forced tears to collate in her eyes.

"She won't ask--she knows I've gotta do this."

Isla silenced herself, though she nodded and watched as Tig--pissed as hell--rode out of the lot and onto the street.

She guessed that he was still piqued after she and Chibs yelled at him.

And she was still pissed at Jax, but for a different reason now.

This time, she wanted to slap the shit out of the blonde idiot standing before her, requesting help with disposing of a literal dead body.

Isla couldn't quite believe that Jax had turned to her and not somebody like Opie--somebody who would be able to help a little more physically--but she could only assume that it was more of a trust thing.

He had a lot of faith in her and she lauded that. But it also saw her get thrust into some questionable situations.

"You look like you're gonna puke." Juice stifled a laugh as Isla padded in, the bottom of her shirt wrenched between bloodied fingers. "Are you good?"

"Yeah." Instantly, she responded. "I'm fine. I just need to get my purse."

Clay was nowhere to be seen--possibly in the back room with Chibs and Tara--but Gemma's eyes focused on the blonde's form as she strolled across the wood.

"You don't look fine. Come sit for a little while."

"I'm gonna head home--"

"Where'd Jax go?" Gemma cut in, lifting an eyebrow conspicuously.

Tell Gemma that you don't know where I went.

"I don't know." She frowned, sitting on the barstool opposite the woman. "We shared a cigarette, talked about Abel, and then he told me he had to go--where, I don't know."

Did she feel bad about roping his child into their little lie? Yeah, a bit. But it was foolproof. Gemma never would've suspected anything to do with Abel because, really, Jax brought him up to everyone whenever he got the chance to.

"Ah. He's probably headed over to see him. I'll go--"

"I wouldn't." Isla pushed. "He's trying to get some alone time with him. He said that he hasn't really been able to spend one-on-one time with Abel all too much."

Which wasn't a lie. Jax needed to spend those rare solitary moments with his baby because his mother couldn't seem to leave St. Thomas for more than three hours at a time.

Gemma just hummed, turning away.

She knew how he felt. But she was Abel's grandma--she just wanted to know that he was safe and being looked after.

"I'm sorry, that was mean...I just think he's a little confused right now, and could use five minutes with his son."

"No, you're right." She nodded, unable to heed the trepidation flitting over Isla because she felt bad about coming down on Gemma in such a way.

That woman was a Godsend to Jax, his children, and even Isla's family. She didn't deserve to be randomly admonished for wanting to visit her baby's baby. Not after everything she'd done for them.

Well, besides trying to murder the mother of Jax's first born. That was a little fucked up--even by SAMCRO's standards.

But Isla adored her. For everything she had done for her during the time she'd resided in Charming, Gemma was regarded extremely fucking highly in her book.

"Go home, baby. Get some sleep, too--you need to rest."

Isla waved her off. "I'm not tired, just feelin' a little gross."

"I'd bet." Gemma pushed her lips together, smiling as much as she could've. "You go yourself pretty again, and swing by later for dinner."

"Yes ma'am." She mock saluted, reaching for her purse.

Goodbyes between Isla, Gemma, and Juice were uttered for a few moments before the blonde made her way to the door.

Her eyebrows raised inquisitively, urging her to turn back to the duo.

"Gem?"

"Mhm?"

"Was Tig alright?" Sincerely, she asked. Feeling a little guilty about snapping earlier.

Gemma didn't say anything but her head bobbed in confirmation, providing Isla with the answer she needed.

The Irish in her shone through during instances like those. She was brash in her actions, words, and the fact she'd always speak before she thought--but the solemnity with which she would ponder, apologize after making a mistake, was just so plainly Irish.

Isla was kind. Caring. Nurturing. She was everything that SAMCRO was not--but, at the same time, everything that Chibs was. Reliable. Loyal. Committed. A true ride or fucking die.

Everybody trusted her, and nobody second-guessed confiding in her.

And, once again, that had its reparations alongside a multitude of perks.

"Holy mother of Jesus." She cursed, the unmistakable Belfast twang flickering through her brusque tone.

Jax haphazardly pulled the bed-sheet over Kohn's lifeless frame, turning to face his little friend who was, to put it lightly, fucking stunned.

"You sound super Irish when you're mad."

"I'm glad you could recognize that I'm mad at you, Jax." Her eyes never once left the outline of that dead body half on Tara's bedroom carpet, half on the tile of her en-suite.

Getting to her knees, disregarding an incredulous amount of blood decorating the walls and carpets, Isla pulled the floral cover off of Josh.

She sighed. "Why'd you do it?"

"He was stalking Tara--"

"So you just blew his fucking brains out?!" Her shriek was guttural. "Jesus Christ, Jax. And you idiots think that Tig is the one with a trigger problem."

"He does have a problem, and you know that! This was different!" He countered, pulling her to her feet. "This was fucking restitution, Isla!"

"No." Calmly, she stated. Her glare piercing. "This was fucking stupid. Possibly the most idiotic thing that you've ever done, Jackson."

His head shook as he sneered, towering over her. Isla felt intimidated. For the first time ever, she felt an unwavering sensation of overawe whilst in the presence of her best friend.

"He was a bad guy. He had to die."

"But he was fucking ATF! Hale is gonna get your ass, and there's nothing Unser will be able to help you with once he gets wind of this--"

Isla's voice cracked around a small sob. She wasn't even aware of the tears welling in her eyes, but they were there the entire time.

It was the thought of Jax making one incredible life altering fuck up--one that he wasn't going to save himself with a bribe, or the simple luck of a good connection to Charming PD--that was maiming her uncomfortably.

Jax's arms wound around her trembling waist, hugging her tightly against his palpitating chest.

The sheer terror visible in her mannerisms was what frightened him. Isla never seemed to scare very easily--or, at least, she didn't show it.

She was fearless, but she was still human. And he had only seen her crack twice. Both times because of the club, too.

"He was stalking Tara." He reinstated, circling his fingers over Isla's svelte spine. "They dated when she was in Chicago, she broke things off but he was a clingy motherfucker and he wouldn't leave her alone."

"She should've gotten a restraining order or something." She mumbled into his chest, sniffing back tears.

"That's the thing. She did. But he broke it by coming back to Charming, pretending to be setting up shop at the PD with Hale, but he followed her around town for a couple weeks instead."

"And nobody questioned why he wasn't getting anything done?"

Jax's head shook. "He was still working for Chicago--or so he said, anyway--so Hale just assumed any intel for whatever the fuck it was he'd been workin' on was going straight back to the big bosses."

She was struggling to follow on.

It was such a convoluted scenario that Isla never thought she'd become entwined with--though, with Jax and Charming being, well, Jax and Charming, she didn't know why she ruled something of the sort out.

"Are you gonna tell Gemma and Clay--"

"No. This is between us, and Tara."

Isla didn't have the energy to bicker with him again. She didn't want to bicker with him again, truthfully.

"Alright, what's the next move, then? 'Cuz this pig can't stay wrapped up in a sheet for too much longer or else he's gonna start to stink this place out."

Jax situated both hands against crimson coated shoulders, lightly pushing her backward so she could look up to meet his gaze.

"I got a plan. But I don't think you're gonna like it."

His eyes went straight to the lighter atop Tara's bedside table, right next to the pineapple scented candle, and she sighed hard.

The man was so sadistic. It wasn't even slightly discreet anymore, really.

Whereas Clay had always been ruthless, remarkably barbaric toward those who had wronged him--or anyone, really--Jax had more of a moral compass. Not much more, but a little. And that was the sort of thing that tied him straight to JT.

But Clarence Morrow had a much more potent impact on Jax's life, thus the man's foibles ended up transpiring to his stepson.

"This is seriously fucked up."

"I know." He didn't even try to argue, pushing Josh into the small grave he'd spent the last ten minutes digging at the pit of a deep, deep ditch.

Isla's body was below freezing, cold and uneasy at the prospect of potentially being caught, or assumed as an accessory to the murder of a federal agent.

"I'm sorry for roping you into this." Jax stated, almost reading her mind. "I just didn't know what else to do."

She ran a hand over his forearm, resting her head comfortably against navy-cotton covered flesh. "I know."

He didn't expect the woman to douse the dead body in gasoline, set it alight, and wait all night for the corpse to torrefy entirely--but she was there now. There was no reason she shouldn't go to the trouble of lighting the first match.

Tara should be the one doing this, Isla thought to herself as the small stick caught alight. She dropped it atop the sheet, taking a few steps backward when the thing immediately shot up into thick flames.

Jax engulfed her warmly with both arms, holding her tightly as if continuing their prior embrace. It felt safe, unusually so. But, to Isla, it felt like he was scouting for that security more than what she was.

"I can't believe you committed murder for a woman that you haven't seen for ten whole years." She laughed against his sweatshirt, eyes watering. "Is there something going on with you two again?"

"No." Huskily, he responded. "There isn't, and there won't be, either. I just swung by her place to make sure she was alright--I knew she was having trouble with that fucker--and he was there. I had to do it, Isla."

"I know."

She didn't. She did not know. She did not want to know, either. She couldn't fucking believe he'd acted out so rashly, how he was so trigger happy.

Jax was morphing into a different man and she couldn't help but pin that on the club.

"Is she alright?"

"I don't think so." His mumble was barely audible, but she caught it.

Isla squeezed his arm reassuringly, knowing that he felt bad about bringing that sort of trouble to Tara.

"She will be." She confirmed. "She's a strong girl, Jax, she'll be okay."

It didn't kill her to speak positively about Tara, she still held a place in her huge Irish heart--but it was an odd sensation to be mentioning her at all.

Ten years had passed by and Isla wasn't even certain that she was still alive. Her concern for the doctor seemed to dissipate over time because Tara didn't want anything more to do with them, so they didn't try with her.

Maybe it was a pang of jealousy that held her back. She was undeniably envious of the fact that she'd gotten out of town, worked her ass off, and experienced bigger and better things.

But, essentially, everything led back to Charming, and Tara Knowles had ended up falling into that same heap of trouble she left behind a decade ago.

Isla pulled her cellphone from the back pocket of her jeans, groaning when she saw the time.

"We've got an hour before Gemma wants us for dinner. You think this son of a bitch is gonna turn into dust within the next sixty minutes?"

"No." Jax laughed, leaning to his left and propping his head atop hers. "But he'll be unrecognizable in the next twenty."

"Perfect."

It was barbarous. Vile. Inhuman.

Isla's mother would be spinning in her grave if she knew the chaos she'd managed to find herself meshed with. Diane would kill Chibs, too.

She'd kill him for roping her baby into such malice after leaving Belfast. She'd want to throttle the Scottish son of a bitch for welcoming little Isla Áine Telford to SAMCRO, to Charming, to Jax fucking Teller.

They weren't natives to the small town, nor were they natives to California. Chibs had just moved from charter to charter. Continent to fucking continent. And taking his little angel along for the ride wasn't exactly planned until his late wife took her very last breath one stormy morning.

It was the most upsetting thing he had to do, telling his daughter that the woman she looked up to and adored with every fiber of her being wasn't coming home.

He'd been in the army, he'd seen things no man should've ever seen, but the sight of that six year old--teary-eyed and partially cognizant--was something that cut him so deeply, Jimmy O'Phelan's mark didn't seem to scratch the surface of Chib's inconsolable hurt.

"I think we're good now." A little nervous, Isla noted.

She simply couldn't wait to get out of the bitter chill, into a hot shower, and to the dinner table at the Teller-Morrow residence.

Jax surveyed the scene. He crouched down, heeding the flicker and sick crackle of flames engulfing the barely fleshed body.

"I think so, too." He confirmed, throwing her the keys to his SUV. "Get outta the cold--I'll finish up here. K?"

She nodded, clutching the chain close to her chest.

Isla wasn't sure how badly she was trembling until she sat still in the passenger seat, watching the club's VP commit the unspeakable.

Really, she wasn't shocked to find out that Jax was capable of the sort. Burning a man dead was better than burning one alive, and she was thankful that Josh had been put out of his misery before his body was cauterized into dust...Which was more than what could've been said about Kyle Hobart.

She remembered overhearing the club's plans to sear, or slice, the SAMCRO tattoo from the back of that brute once they'd gotten wind of his inability to black it out.

And she would've felt bad about that man getting viciously harmed, if he didn't fuck Opie over and subsequently land him in Chino to serve five years away from Charming and his family.

It was cruel, she knew that. To blowtorch the MC tattoo from the stretch of his back, was fucking cruel. Isla knew that Tig was adept at causing such blistering agony, but she didn't think he would actually go through with it, least of all with such delight.

Isla feared that man sometimes. Clay's right hand, the man who sought to protect her, fucking terrified her because he was so unpredictable. So fast acting.

"He's done." Jax officially confirmed, sliding into the driver's seat. "You okay?"

She was staring off into space, her eyes glazing over at the realization she had just helped dispose of another human being.

"Isla--"

"I'm good." Finally, she spoke. "I just--uh--I just wanna get cleaned up and head to dinner now."

He pinched the keys from a frail palm, sticking them into the ignition. All the while wondering what the fuck he was going to do with the shaken up woman to his right.

Twenty-three years of friendship, and Isla never once thought she'd be involved in such incredulous activity. Jax never thought she'd get hauled into it either, really.

Juice was right. She looked like she was going to throw up, all pale and sickly.

He had done that. Jax was, essentially, the reason that Isla seemed as though she wanted to crawl out of her own fucking skin. Granted, she was already feeling rather discomfited after tending to Cameron's laceration for hours on end--at odds with her father and Tig for that time, too.

But now this...This made Isla feel horrible. Dirty. Disgusting.

"You want me to tell Gemma you're not feeling it tonight?" Jax looked beside himself, noticing her head hanging low as she flared out of the window. "So you can skip seeing everybody--"

"No." Flatly, she responded. "No, I wanna make sure Tig doesn't hate me."

"Why would he hate you?"

"I yelled at him." Isla sounded downcast, sad. "He was watching, being awkward, trying to tell me what dad and I were doing wasn't going to suffice, and I just snapped."

In understanding, he hummed. He knew how irritating Alexander Trager was. Irritating, insufferable, it was all the same.

"He won't hate you for that." Comfortably, Jax rested a hand on Isla's thigh.

She barely felt the ringed fingers gently gliding along her jeans as she shook. It was a tremor, light and unnoticeable to the naked eye, that Jax felt reverberate through his entire body through his palm.

"I don't think he's managed to be pissed at you for more than fifteen minutes at a time."

"Yeah." She mumbled, shifting awkwardly. "Yeah, you're right. I'm too sweet for anybody to stay mad at me--"

"I wouldn't say you were sweet."

She smacked at his hand with a laugh, throwing her head backward as her smile started to fade.

It was bittersweet.

Bittersweet because she was realizing that Tig had pardoned her for being a bitch, but she had also just disposed of a dead body on the side of the freeway.

Bittersweet because, now, there was no clear path for her and Jackson and whatever happened was just going to happen and they had to grin and bear it. Pretend it wasn't eating them from the inside out.

Bittersweet because their families--their family--were currently sat around the oak table in Gemma's dining room, waiting for the pair to waltz in after doing the most heinous.

Bitter. Fucking. Sweet.

"Where were you guys?!" Tig pointed his beer bottle at the duo, heeding Jax's hand in Isla's back pocket.

Of course, to Trager, that was more than just a comfort thing. He didn't know what they had just done--nor would he--but she was going to let him believe whatever the fuck he wanted to as long as it wasn't the actual truth.

"It don't matter." Clay dismissed, gesturing to Jax and Isla's designated spaces at the table. "They're here now. That's all I care about."

Her smile was warm, friendly and welcoming while she sat in between her father and partner in crime. Literally.

Chibs nudged her. "You alright?"

"Yeah." Slowly, she uttered. She reached for the wine glass that Gemma had so kindly laid out for her.

The two blondes made eye contact for a few moments, Jax's crystalline hues completely lifeless. Arid. He nodded toward her, an indication that he was feeling alright.

But Isla...She wasn't. Lying through her teeth was the only feasible means of getting over this. Whatever this was.

"I'm fucking brilliant, dad."

#tig trager #tig trager fanfiction #tig trager fic #tig trager x oc #sons of anarchy fic #sons of anarchy fanfiction #sons of anarchy fandom #sons of anarchy #jax teller x oc #jax teller fanfiction #jax teller

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peskygirl13 · 5 years

Text

Pics or It Didn’t Happen

Mild salt and slight hints of Maribat, but mostly crack.

I did get some ideas from @unmaskedagain‘s blog.

Their ml salt and/or crack fics sustain me.

~~~

Marinette learned pretty quickly that even if you had proof, not everyone will listen. It’s always better to have pictures than words, because more people will believe you that way.

It was a slow burn, but Lila Rossi had successfully turned Miss Bustier’s class against the girl. It hurt when her once friends called her jealous and a bully.

Her! Marinette!

Did they forget that she had been bullied by Chloe for years? Why would she become a bully after being bullied herself?

And jealous? Jealous of what? Marinette’s crush on Adrien had long simmered out into nothing but cinders. The boy was a spineless coward who would rather pretend everything was ok rather than stand up and face the truth.

It hurt that this had happened, but, oddly enough, Marinette got some of her greatest allies through this.

It started with Chloe.

One particularly gloomy day, Marinette saw the blonde sitting alone while eating her lunch. Sabrina had long abandoned the blonde for Lila’s fool’s gold and, not for the first time in her life, Chloe felt alone.

Now, despite their long hated history, Marinette wasn’t heartless. The Ladybug in her compelled her to sit next to the blonde and eat. Chloe stared at her, surprised, but said nothing as she continued to eat herself.

That lunch started a truce and led to a friendship.

Next was Moriah.

Moriah was an exchange student from America. Marinette was surprised the day she walked into the bakery and saw her parents talking with a shy looking brunette girl with glasses.

Her parents told her that Moriah was a transfer student from America that they would be hosting for the next few years if all went well.

Moriah was very shy around new people, so when they arrived at school the next day, she stayed close to Marinette. Lila saw this and tried to tempt her into her web of lies.

Moriah was interested in Lila’s tales, but cautious. She looked up any proof of Lila’s stories and found no evidence. She looked up Lila’s name. Nothing.

When she tried pointing this out to the class, she was shunned. Chloe and Marinette welcomed her with open arms.

After a month or so, Moriah became much more comfortable. She was witty and funny, and she had no qualms about defending her friends and she always tried to remain to the side of justice.

This was one of the reasons Marinette decided to give her a miraculous.

After a week of living together, Moriah found out Marinette was Ladybug. The girls had to share a room and Marinette came back late in the night, still dressed as Ladybug, assuming Moriah was asleep and detransformed in her room.

Moriah dropped the book she was reading and squeaked behind the Asian girl.

The next few days included Moriah beating herself up about not noticing that her roommate was a superhero.

About a month or two later, was when Marinette began debating whether or not she should give Chloe and Moriah a miraculous.

Chloe, Marinette knew she wanted to give a miraculous too. The blonde had long ago proved that she was trustworthy and ready to re-wield a miraculous, but she didn’t want to risk anyone knowing that it was Chloe like with Queen Bee.

Moriah was a different story. Marinette was scared about risking something and making a mistake like she did trusting Alya. And the risk was much higher with Moriah since the brunette girl knew Marinette was Ladybug and the Guardian.

It wasn’t until when Ondine was akumatized again that Marinette made her choice.

Lila had manipulated Kim and convinced him to dump Ondine, to which she was akumatized into Syren again.

Ladybug had to fight this one almost alone because recently, Chat Noir had been showing less and less. He blamed it on his other life, but Ladybug couldn’t help but get the feeling that it was because she kept rejecting him.

It was a long hard battle and by the time it was through, Ladybug knew she needed help. If Chat Noir was going to be a little bitch, fine. But this wasn’t going to happen again.

That day, Marinette decided to give Chloe the Fox Miraculous and Moriah the Bee Miraculous. They became the heroes; Vixen and Yellow Jacket.

(“This is why I’m a dog person.” Yellow Jacket commented, pointing at Chat Noir as he arrived late to their first fight with disdain.)

Miss Bustier’s class were both excited and confused about the new heroes. What happened to Rena Rouge?

Alya threw her phone when she saw Ladybug announce that Vixen and Yellow Jacket would be the new, permanent holders of the miraculouses.

Many mocked Chloe for being replaced, assuming that the girl would throw a tantrum, but she ignored them.

What Moriah couldn’t understand is how nobody noticed how similar Vixen and Queen Bee looked.

The next ally was Luka, who turned out to be the most helpful.

He never knew about the tall-tales that the class had been told until one day when the girls came by to his house boat and was met with a disgruntled Moriah whose hair was cut.

Moriah had pretty magenta peek-a-boo highlights that were hardly noticeable, but Lila decided to complain that Moriah’s colored hair was distracting her. Mr Damocles ordered her to get rid of the colors from her hair or she’d be expelled.

Moriah, while normally always respectful, especially to adults, looked stunned. She pointed to Alix and Juleka, yelling; “What about Alix and Juleka?! Their hair is more obvious than mine! Why shouldn’t they change their hair?”

She was not allowed back on campus until the color had been removed from her hair. Moriah was furious and called her parents, telling them what had happened, and told Tom and Sabine the same thing with Chloe and Marinette.

Both parties were furious, but there was nothing Moriah’s parents could do since they were in America and Tom and Sabine tried talking to Mr Damocles about the issue, stating that there was nothing in the school rules against dyed hair and why it shouldn’t be more important than the education, but the man refused to budge.

Eventually, after three days of failing to get Mr Damocles to see reason and missed school, Tom and Sabine emailed the school board about the issue and, with no choice until they responded, Moriah was forced to get rid of her highlights.

She flat out refused to dye her hair because to get all the highlights out, they’d have to dye her whole head, so Moriah was forced to cut her locks short to remove the color.

Needless to say, she was pissed.

As was Luka.

The boy had grown to be good friends with the girl and liked her highlights. Seeing the rockin’ pink cut out sucked. When he asked what had happened, the girls told him everything, including Lila’s tabloid tales.

Luka was quick to pull Juleka aside and open her eyes to reason. When the girl found out the truth, the first thing she did was tell Rose.

The blonde girl’s eyes were opened too, and were quick to fill with tears. Everything was a lie. How could they have been so stupid? Then they remembered that Marinette had tried to warn them and were overcome with guilt. How could they make it up to her?

Marinette, Chloe, and Moriah were watching Heathers (Moriah’s suggestion) in Marinette’s room with their kwamis when Rose and Juleka entered. (Tikki, Pollen, and Trixx hid before the girls could see them)

The movie was paused and the girls stared at each other, waiting for something to happen. There was a beat of silence before Rose burst into tears.

“Marinette, we’re so sorry! We should’ve listened to you!”

Rose and Juleka told them that Luka had opened their eyes and that they never should have believed Lila’s stories and how they had tried to prove it to Ivan and Mylene too, but they wouldn’t listen.

They ended their apology by saying; “We know we don’t deserve your forgiveness, but we are sorry and we want to make it up to you. Starting with this.”

Both girls handed Marinette two hundred dollars each. Marinette looked between the girls and the money in shock.

“It’s payment for everything you’ve done for us. Every dress, outfit, accessory, baked good, everything. We know it isn’t enough, but it’s all we can afford right now. We promise to give you more once we have it.”

There were a few minutes of silence after that. Marinette blinked at the girls before tearing up and smiling.

“No. You don’t have to give me anymore. This will do.” She reassured.

Rose and Juleka awkwardly nodded, but Marinette could tell they were somewhat relieved. There was an awkward silence before Moriah spoke up.

“I know you’re lesbians, but do you want to drool over JD with us?”

Rose and Juleka blushed, but nodded their heads happily, rushing over to join the group.

It wasn’t just the girls though. Nathaniel never believed the stories, but was scared about what would happen if he spoke up. Seeing Rose and Juleka of all people step up made him join too. Marinette also had allies in students in other classes too, like Marc, Calude, and Aurore as well as in other schools, like Kagami and Felix. For the first time in a long time, Marinette felt much better.

She should have known it wouldn’t last.

That night she and Moriah returned to their room after patrol, she should have noticed that her sketchbook wasn’t where she left it on her desk.

She should have noticed when she and Moriah got up in the morning, but they were so exhausted from the night before to think of anything more than food and getting ready.

The girls met up with Chloe at the school gates and they had just walked into the classroom when they saw Alya talking with Miss Bustier, Lila and her sheep herded on one side of the room and the rest on the other side, looking murderous. Marinette almost instantly got a gut feeling that something was wrong.

Boy was she right.

When the girls were noticed, Lila’s sheep gave them smug looks while the girl herself gave them a faux innocent look.

She did something.

Miss Bustier cleared her throat before turning to face the girls.

“Girls, because of your behavioral issues, the class decided that it would be best if you three didn’t go on the class trip.”

Oh yeah, the class trip.

During the third and final year, the seniors of the school were allowed a class trip. It was to be organized by the class, mostly the president, and the entire class had to do fundraisers to pay for it.

To be completely honest, the last thing the three girls wanted to do was go on a trip with their class. Nathaniel and Marc had gotten an internship at DC Comics (courtesy of MDC) and that was taking place exactly during the class trip and Luka and Juleka’s mom decided that they were going to sail around the world this summer and Rose got permission to tag along.

It would only be the three girls together with a class who hated them, but Marinette was the class president and had to organize it, and if she had to organize the whole thing then she was going to enjoy the fruits of her labor. And Chole and Moriah weren’t going to let her suffer alone.

The bluenette had already begun planning the trip. Places to go and fundraising to do. She even decided to go ahead and book reservations. It was unfair!

Marinette opened her mouth to argue when her eye caught something in the trash that made her heart stop.

Praying she was wrong, she slowly walked to the trash can and pulled out it’s contents.

There was her sketchbook, tattered and torn.

She couldn’t believe it. Marinette started hyperventilating, looking at the scraps of her work.

Marinette had several sketchbooks, she filled them out rather fast, but that specific sketchbook was one filled with the design ideas she had for Jagged Stone’s tour that was happening this summer.

Marinette felt the world around her spiralling. She felt dizzy. Distantly she could hear people calling her name, but couldn’t comprehend it.

She felt sick.

She was going to be sick!

That was the last thing she remembered before running home, people calling her name as she left the school.

~~~

Always make friends with people who are loyal.

A good friend will make you feel better after someone hurt you.

But a best friend will skip beside you with an old, rusty bat singing “Someone’s gonna get it~”

After Marinette ran out, Chloe, Moriah, Juleka, Rose, and Nathaniel all screamed at their classmates and teacher, telling them how incompetent they were. Moriah, too angry to remember how to speak french, called them scum sucking creeps of the earth that Satan wouldn’t even want in hell.

It probably would’ve gone farther, but the three competent classmates gave Chloe and Moriah a look and told them to go after Marinette.

The girls listened with no hesitation.

They ran all the way to the Dupan-Cheng bakery. They walked in and Tom and Sabine looked at them before glancing upstairs with sad looks. Both girls knew immediately what they meant. They went upstairs to see Marinette doing breathing exercises, trying to keep from crying or even being sad at all. Tikki was patting her wielder's leg.

Moriah instantly ran over to Marinette while Chloe was quick to close any windows, doors, and cover any cracks and creases that an akuma could get through before joining them

Fuck Hawkmoth! There was no way the girls were going to let Marinette try and keep this bottled up so that she wouldn’t get akumatized.

Chloe decided that the best thing for them to do was go to her father’s hotel and have a girls night, which is precisely what they did. What Marinette didn’t know was that there was a double meaning behind it.

The girls and their kwamis spent the night eating junk food and watching chick-flicks like Legally Blonde and Mean Girls. Rose, Juleka, and Nathaniel told the others what had happened, and Chloe and Moriah were met with numerous texts, asking if they needed to come over, but the girls reassured everyone that they had it covered.

Finally, Marinette had passed out. It was after midnight and Chloe and Moriah exchanged looks before getting to work.

Tip-toeing out of the room, closing the door behind them, Moriah unlocked Marinette’s phone and opened her contacts.

Scrolling down the list, taking note of a few names she wanted to ask the bluenette about later, she found the contact they were looking for.

Jagged Stone.

Hitting the face-time button, the girls waited for Jagged to answer. The rock star was currently in America, and should only be mid afternoon over there. Even if it wasn’t, he’d stop in the middle of a live concert if Marinette was calling him.

Sure enough, after two beeps, the screen changed to Jagged’s face.

“Marinette, love! So good to hear from you-” He stopped short when he saw the two girls, neither of which being his honorary niece.

“Moriah? Chloe? What’re you doing calling me on Marinette’s phone?”

That was all it took before the girls told him everything. Lila’s stories, all worthy of a lawsuit, what happened to Marinette’s sketchbook, they even emailed him pictures of the texts that the class had sent to Marinette, most of which encuriged the girl to comitte suicide, and a link to the LadyBlog to prove that everything was true.

About midway during their confession, Penny had appeared on the screen, reading the emails that the girls had sent her. By the time Chloe and Moriah were finished, the pair looked like they wanted to commit murder.

Jagged yelled in fury, wanted to take legal action immediately, but Moriah cut in before he could.

“I agree with you Jagged, but what Marinette needs is a break. She needs a vacation from her class and Paris in general.”

Chloe nodded in agreement.

Jagged brought a hand to his chin in thought. The girls had a point, but what to do?

~~~

It was Penny’s idea.

The first thing the girls did in the morning was burn all the plans that Marinette had made for the trip. They cancelled the reservations and when they got to school, Marinette walked up to Miss Buster’s desk and said; “I’m resigning as class president. If the class doesn’t want Chloe, Moriah, and I to join them on the class trip, then I won’t plan it.”

And that was it.

Lila had been chosen as the new class president.

To her credit, she did do a decent job. She had decent fundraising ideas, but she started late in the school year, so the class only raised enough money to go to Disneyland Paris.

Chloe snorted.

The class attended the trip in June. Their social media and camera rolls filled with pictures. Most of the captions read that they were glad to get away from the bullies at school.

It wasn’t till after the trip that they found out what happened with the girls.

It was Alix who found out first. In the class group chat, save the three ‘bullies,’ Alix texted: “OMG, look at this!”

Underneath was a picture of the three girls at the airport with Jagged Stone, Penny, and Fang. The three were posing like Charlie’s Angels, wearing huge grins, with the caption: “Touring with Jagged Stone All Summer!!”

Penny was a genius.

Lila looked at her phone in horror. This couldn’t be happening.

Oh, my dear liar, but it is!

The first stop was Gotham. Jagged was performing at a Gala hosted by Bruce Wayne, which the girls would be attending. But first, they got a tour of Wayne industries.

The first picture in Gotham was taken by Moriah at Wayne industries. She was looking at the phone camera like she was on the Office while very clearly behind her you could see Marinette talking with Damian Wayne, the youngest Wayne son, and Chloe talking with a boy named Jonathan ‘Jon’ Kent, son of famous reporters Lois Lane-Kent and Clark Kent. Alya nearly snapped her phone in half when she recognized the boy. The pairs were obviously flirting. The picture’s captain read: ”First Day in Gotham and I’m already a fifth wheel.”

The next two pictures taken were a surprise to everyone.

They were taken by Chloe in the late night streets of Gotham. The first one was a picture of Marinette sitting on the driver's seat of the batmobile looking like all her dreams had come true while Batman stood beside her, arms crossed, looking rather stern.

The second picture was Moriah holding two pistols with starry eyes with Red Hood standing beside her, explaining to her how to shoot them, with an alarmed Marinette and Nightwing running towards them in the background.

The girls did take a selfie with the entire Batfam, but they decided not to post that one.

The next few days were mainly pictures of the girls sightseeing (with the occasional sneaky picture Moriah took of her friends with Damian and Jon). However, at one point the girls were adopted (kidnapped) by Poison Ivy and Harley Quinn. Chloe and Marinette both agree that the weirdest thing that happened in Gotham was Moriah bonding with a talking plant named Frank.

Eventually, it was the night of the Wayne Gala. None of the girls took pictures of the gala, but the entrance was on tv, which Miss Bustier’s class made a movie night out of.

Sure enough, walking down the red carpet were the girls. Marinette had made new outfits for all of them, just for the gala, and they were stunning.

Marinette wore a long scarlet dress. It was fashioned like a traditional chinese dress, but more Marinette-y. There were intricate designs stitched in black around the bottom of the dress with a silk sash tied around her waist. Her hair was pulled up into a bun with a fancy stain glass rose pin in it.

Chloe wore a glamorous gold mermaid dress. It shimmered with every step she took with glittering blue details on the top that matched her makeup. And if you looked down, you could see her wearing gold, literal gold, heels. Her hair was down in beach wave curls with blue strands woven into it.

Lila and Alya screamed when they saw both girls being escorted in by Damian Wayne and Jon Kent respectively.

Jagged and Penny were linked together. Penny wore a v-neck, sleeveless shimmering silver dress, also made by Marinette, while Jagged wore a dark purple suit. It looked pretty monotone for the man at first, but when lights hit the suit, you could see that there had been music notes embroidered into the suit that turned it into a rainbow of color.

Moriah’s dress came as a bit of a surprise. Marinette knew Moriah was more comfortable in pants than a dress, but she still wanted the girl to wear a dress, so they compromised. Moriah wore a dress that was also crossed with a suit. Kind of like Garnet’s wedding dress from Steven Universe.

She wore a tuxedo jacket over a white, sleeveless dress that draped down longer in the back, shorter in the front. She had a red sash wrapped around her waist and black tights with red shoes to match. Around her neck was a shirt collar and bow-tie that she wore like a choker. Her hair was half up and half down in curls. Moriah wasn’t one to wear make up, but since it was a special occasion, she wore some mascara and a little lipstick.

The biggest surprise was her escort.

Walking beside her was Fang, dressed in his own original Marinette tux that matched Jagged’s.

For the rest of the night, nobody knew what happened to the girls at the gala. It wasn't until the next morning that they found out.

Chloe and Marinette spent most of the night hanging out with Jon and Damian, but whenever they weren’t doing that, they talked with the other guests, most of whom asked for the designer of their outfits, which really boosted traffic on Marinette’s website.

Moriah hung out around the dessert table most of the night, snacking on a bit of everything, while talking with the other Wayne sons. At some point, totally unclear on the how and why, Moriah and the oldest Wayne son, Dick Grayson, got into a dance fight. The gala ended before the fight did, so they had to call a draw.

Their next destination was New York, but they made a slight detour to Metropolis per Jon and Chloe’s request. They got a VIP tour of the Daily Planet and met Jon’s parents: Lois Lane-Kent and Clark Kent.

Moriah recorded Lois tearing into the LadyBlog with a grin on her face, having no remorse in posting it online.

Alya couldn’t understand it as she watched her idol tearing into her life’s work.

Then the girls’ mentioned BugOut, the blog Aurore ran, and Lois was a lot more pleasant.

Alya threw her phone when she got a text from Nino that Marinette got Aurore an internship at the Daily Planet for winter and spring break, and possibly summer if she did well.

The next picture posted was the first one Marinette took. It was of her two friends hanging off Superman’s massive muscles as he flexed. Chloe denies ever drooling.

After that, they left for New York. Specifically, the Avengers’ Tower. It was the anniversary of when the Avengers first became a team, and Tony Stark, an old friend of Jagged’s, highered the man to play at the party.

Before then, they toured the Avengers tower. At one point, they walked in to see Captain America, Bucky Barns, and Thor working out. Shirtless. Moriah let out a quiet but passionate “Hell yes” when they saw them.

After the three men, regretfully, put on their shirts, they showed off their equipment. Chloe couldn’t help but squeal when Captain America handed her his shield. Marinette grinned as she hung off Bucky’s metal arm as he flexed it. Moriah was once again handed guns, this time by Black Widow, which were once again promptly taken from her.

After all that excitement came the big guns. Per the girls’ request, Penny recorded them trying to lift Thor’s hammer. It was all fun and games until Marinette easily picked it up. It was dead quiet before Thor’s voice thundered across the room.

“She is worthy! I must take her to Asgard with me!”

Tony took a step forward. “Thor, you can’t take a child.” He stressed.

Thor tilted his head at the millionaire like a puppy. Moriah winced, grabbing her heart. That face was too cute for a grown-ass space god.

“Then what is the spider-kid?”

Tony faceplamed. “He’s my intern and protege. I’m his mentor!”

“Then I shall be this child’s mentor!”

“No!”

“Miss Potts can be Chloe’s mentor, for they are both fit to rule!” Chloe preened at this.

“Thor, no!”

Moriah raised her hand. “Can the kick-ass, Russian spy be my mentor?”

Natasha raised an eyebrow at the girl before smirking.

“Yes! Black Widow will become Moriah’s mentor! It all works out! Now, I must take my new protege to Asgard to meet the All-Father.”

“Thor, no!”

“Don’t you take my niece!” Jagged ran into the phone’s picture, looking ready to fuck-up a god.

The video ended with Penny dropping the phone and running towards Jagged who was now riding on Thor’s back, pulling his hair.

The video went viral in an hour.

Lila’s hands trembled as she watched the video, feeling herself paleing. She had become enemies with someone who could lift Thor’s hammer.

This wasn’t posted, but shortly after Penny got Jagged off Thor, Loki appeared. He tried explaining that he felt powerful magic coming from the tower, but was cut short when Moriah tackled him to the ground in an aggressive hug.

While we’re on the subject of proteges, at some point, Peter came over. He heard that Jagged Stone was at the tower and wanted to meet him. He, Ned, and MJ were huge fans and he really needed an autograph.

Friday told him that Jagged was with the other Avengers in the training room. Promptly saying thanks to the A.I, the spider boy practically ran to the room. What he didn’t expect was to open the door to see a short, brunette girl German suplex the Winter Soldier while wearing heels. (A trick Natasha had taught her. The Black Widow took being a mentor very seriously.)

Tony turned to see who was at the door and was met with a red faced, dazed Peter Parker who was clutching the area over his heart like it was about to beat out of his chest.

“Natasha, your kid broke my minion!”

(Now Marinette and Chloe got their fill of taking sneaky pictures of Moriah and Peter.)

The girls did normal sightseeing stuff around New York. They went to a town called Riverdale and Moriah met a guy named Jughead. They bonded over having friends with love issues that attracted endless people while they just wanted to eat burgers.

At some point they were in another dangerous situation, but this time they met some guy named Deadpool who would make this One-Shot Rated-R if I actually put anything he said in it.

While in New York, they went to two Broadway Musicals. The first one was Phantom of the Opera. (Jagged didn’t really want to see this one, but he was outnumbered one to four. (Five including Fang. The crocodile had a weird love for Opera music.)) They also had a backstage pass where pictures of Marinette conversing with the person in charge of costumes, Chloe complementing the actress who played Christine, and Moriah hugging the actor who played the Phantom were taken.

After that, Jagged took them to see Hamilton. What the girls’ didn’t know, however, was that this was a special show with the original cast. Moriah screamed when she saw Lin Manuel-Miranda on the stage as Alexander Hamilton and when they went backstage, Moriah started crying when the cast greeted her.

Mylene, who admired the man herself, felt her heart break when she saw the picture of a joy-crying Moriah hugging Lin.

After that, they went to Florida for Jagged’s next concert at Universal Studios. They didn’t meet anyone famous there, but the class were still envious of the pictures.

Moriah was a huge Potter Head, so this was a dream come true. She hissed at Marinette and Chloe when they playfully mocked her Hufflepuff shirt while they sported matching Slytherin shirts.

They also went to Disney World, which was also a dream come true. The funniest thing that happened there was while Jagged and Moriah were off trying to waste hundreds of dollars on ice cream and other junk food with Penny trying to stop them, one of the park’s managers thought that Chloe and Marinette were supposed to fill-in for two of the disney princesses. Jagged, Penny, and Moriah came back to find Chloe dressed like Elsa and Marinette dressed like Mulan. Moriah laughed hysterically at the two girls until the same park manager pulled her away and she came out dressed like Belle.

Originally, Florida was supposed to be the final place, but there was a last minute change. Turns out that Jagged Stone has a sister who lives in Japan with a daughter named Kyoko Jirou.

While they were on tour, Jirou and her classmates had done a performance for their school’s festival.

Jagged, of course, was inspired and requested Penny to schedule one last performance in Japan where he’d have Jirou and her band open for him. It would be a nonprofit concert since Jagged wanted it within the next two weeks, but that didn’t bother him.

The girls had to check in with their parents, but they were allowed to go with Jagged to Japan.

Since it would take every waking moment to plan the concert and write a new song for it, Jagged had the girls join Jirou’s class for the time being despite being a little older.

The first picture taken was Moriah performing the German suplex Natasha taught her on a hot, ash-blonde guy named Katsuki Bakugou who said that the girls looked weak.

The next thing that was posted was a selfie of the three girls wearing the UA gym uniforms with the caption: “Training at the USJ.” With them in the picture were Momo and Hagakure, both of which were adorning new hero costumes.

Marinette took one look at their old costumes and went on a rampage. In the time span of two days, she managed to make both girls new suits (with the help of the support course).

Momo kept her red and white color scheme, but it became a two piece outfit that was pretty similar to a female wrestler’s costume, but with knee and elbow pads. To avoid showing too much skin, they used strands of Momos hair as a way to let her creations move past the more intimate areas of her body. Momo kept her heeled boots because if Black Widow and Wonder Woman can kick ass in heels then so could she, but Moriah gave the suggestion of being able to snap the heels off and use them like throwing darts.

Hagakure’s suit was made out of reflective lenses that could turn her completely invisible without having to be naked, but also amplify any light she admitted. She got a chest plate tank top and pants with built in kneepads. Her boots were sound absorbent for stealth and she also got a pair of rocking goggles to keep her from blinding herself.

Needless to say, both girls were satisfied with their new looks.

For the next couple of days, they took pictures of Class 1-A. Marinette was the only one who could get a picture with the Class 1-A homeroom teacher, Mr. Aizawa. Probably because she made him a new sleeping bag as an apology for their intrusion.

Funny story: When he saw Jagged Stone, he paled, before muttering “Oh dear god, there’s two of them” under his breath repeatedly. The girls didn’t understand this until they met Present Mic.

Moriah and Katsuki somewhat got along after the german suplex incident and she hung out with the Baku-Squad. Chloe took a bit of an interest in a duel-haired boy named Todoroki who hung out with a boy named Izuku Midoryia and the Deku-Squad. Izuku and Marinette got along swimmingly, just don’t look directly at them. It’s harmful to look at the sun, let alone two.

At one point, they met Endeavor. All three girls called him out and chastised him for being a horrible father and human being. Chloe took the lead on this. (Todoroki started looking at her in a new light.)

The next big news that Miss Buister’s class got wasn’t from stalking the girls’ social media. It was the Japanese news. The class couldn’t believe it when they saw that Ladybug, Vixen, and Yellow Jacket were in Japan.

Originally the girls were only planning on going shopping, but when they saw the villain attack, their hero instincts took over and they transformed and apprehended the perp. To avoid suspicion, Vixen cast an illusion to make it look like Marinette, Chloe, and Moriah were in the background in the crowd.

The girls were interviewed by the press. Well… Ladybug and Vixen conversed with the press while Yellow Jacket was giddily talking in the background with the pro hero Hawks, who the girls had aided, with a vibrant blush on her face.

Non Surprisingly, Izuku was there. Ladybug gave him the most attention out of all the interviewer's. (Block your eyes from the sunshine rays!)

The next day, things got even crazier. All three girls were kidnapped by the League of Villains. U.A, Jagged, and Penny were in a panic until Moriah posted a selfie, looking so done with the world, with a black haired, scared man with piercings beside her staring at the phone camera like he was on the Office.

\In the background, Marinette was chastising the villains about how rude it was to kidnap people while Chloe insulted their base’s decor. The caption read: “These idiots didn’t even take our phones.”

They were found two days later by a group of pro-heroes, led by current No. 1 hero, Endeavor, but when the heroes burst in, they stopped short at the sight in front of them.

The heroes found a very smug Marinette demolishing a very pissed Shigaraki at a video game while Chloe, Toga, Magne, and Twice were doing each other’s nails in the corner while gossiping. In another corner of the room, Dabi had decided to give Moriah new, vibrant blue highlights that matched his eyes.

The entire base was refurbished.

The heroes were stunned long enough for the LoV to escape.

The girls had to use the horse miraculous to return to Paris several times to deal with akumas, but it was worth it.

Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end. Jagged’s trip was soon over and the girls returned to Paris.

The moment they walked into the classroom they were met with glares ranging from weak to pure shade.

While they were on the trip, Jagged had told every important person they came across every tabloid lie Lila had spun and she was met with a tsunami of lawsuits. As was the LadyBlog. Alya’s eyes were red and puffy, but she still gave a heated glare towards Marinette.

The rest of the class wasn’t off the hook, either. With all the evidence Moriah and Chloe had shown Jagged, the entire class were sued for harassment.

After finally getting to the email Tom and Sabine sent, the school board had found out about everything. Mr Damocles and Miss Bustier had been told to hit the road, and were promptly replaced with new, competent teachers.

The girls gave a bright smile before sitting in the back of the class, high-fiving Nathaniel, Rose, and Juleka on the way.

Best. Vacation. Ever.

#mlb x dc #batfam x mlb #ml salt #mlb x marvel #mlb x spiderman #mlb x bnha #mlb crack #mlb x oc #maribat #damianette #self insert

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steverogerspocwife · 3 years

Text

Electrical Pop

Pairing: Dark!Steve Rogers x Iris Graham

TW: Dark steve, non-con, drugging, manipulative, black-maill, breeding, taking of virginity, cockwarming

Summary: What happens when the king of the school meets someone that will not take his shit and will put him in place? Well, Steve does meet someone like that and her name is Iris Graham. Steve’s determination with putting her in place of everyone else turns into an Obsession.

Song Selection: Bubble Electric Pop- Gwen Stegani, Tongue Tied- Grouplove, Heat Waves- Glass Animals, Get Out Alive- Three Days Grace, Hollaback girl- Gwen Stefani, Ocean Eyes- Billie Eilish, Material Girl- Madonna, 505- Arctic Monkeys, Freaks- Surf curse

Authors note: This is a request from @sage1998c and I might make a second part, don’t know yet.

Iris’s light brown eyes examine the room around her. Students already formed in groups were close to each other scattered all around the room. Chattering was floating around the room. She knew it was about her because she was afterall a new student. She places headphones into her ear; the song Ocean Eyes by Billie Eilish echoed through her ears. She takes her notebook and pencil out as her mind is filled with art ideas. Iris ’s eyes fell onto her hand which was littered with different types of rings. She moves her attention to her book and begins to doodle carelessly. She felt the floor rumble below her as she blocked the people around her. A hand slammed onto her table in a result made her create a deep mark onto her small artwork. Iris’s jaw clenched and her piercing brown eyes plowed through the person before her. Clearly annoyed that they interrupted her fun.

Her eyes landed on a blond boy who had beautiful ocean blue eyes. ‘How ironic?’ She thought to herself. Iris’s eyebrow raised after she clicked her tongue impatiently. “How can I help you?” She quips as she looks back down at her ruined doodle. The male in front of her noticed her lack of attention and quickly took the book away from her. “You’re new right?” A smug grin grew on his pink lips once he heard the snickers around them. “You haven’t seen me before, right? So, Of course I am new. A shame really, I thought you were pretty. But it turns out you’re pretty dumb. Now, Give me my book back.” The whole room went silent at her words even the man before her was speechless, his mouth wide open. You grab your bag and saunter towards the blonde. You take your book and tap the bottom of his chin. “You should keep your mouth closed. We don’t want anything bad flying into there, now do we?” Iris doesn’t wait for his answer and without anyone stopping her, she leaves the classroom in awe.

Once she left, Everyone went back to normal as if they were hypnotized and came back to their consciousness. The room was silent and all eyes were on the blonde. Small whispers were being spread throughout the room. A nerve was formed at the top of the blonde’s forehead, his fist tightening in rage. “Shut up.” He seths with anger. Steve then storms out of the classroom as well, knocking a chair and pushing a kid on his way out. His footsteps vibrated through the floor angrily.

⚡️

Ever since that day, Steve had swore to get her back. Day and night he made a plan. In the process he learned so much about her and he was able to create the perfect plan for her. To show everyone and especially Iris that he was the best and Nobody can ever dare defy him.

But Steve was stuck, he didn’t know how to set the plan in motion cause he and she both knew that she didn’t trust him at all. Whenever he would move towards her, she made sure to always have a friend next to them or at least a few inches away. However God must have been on Steve's side once he heard that Iris was going to a party, he couldn’t help but get excited the night beforehand.

The night of the party he was on the prowl. His eyes scan every Nook and cranny to spot Iris. And luckily he did. He saw her watching her friend get shit faced drunk. Steve had to hold his laughter because coming to this party will be the death of her. His steamy ocean blue eyes darkened as he thought of his plan. As someone pushes in front of Steve he grabs their arm. “Hey,” He calls them and they quickly recognize him. “Do me a favor.” He states bluntly.

⚡️

The random boy had given her the drugged drink at Steve’s request. With that drug Iris wasn’t able to see that Steve was right before her, guiding her to his car where he’ll take her to his house. Iris was absent minded and still in the passenger seat as Steve zooms his way home, his leg bouncing in excitement. Once he got home he was quick to swipe Iris off of her seat and bring her into his house. He completely ignores the rest of his house as he takes her to his room and pushes her onto his bed.

A wide smirk appears on his lips as his dark ocean blue eyes stare her down. “What are you going to do now?” He smugly replies. Iris’s head swayed side to side as she tried to focus on one of the Steve’s that stood before you. “W-why?” Iris stampers out, her words coming out slurred and slow. Steve’s hand begins to trace over Iris’s face. “You thought you could just embarrass me and get away with it? You fucking slut.” His hands place a tight grip on her chin. “Now look at you. My little slut to control.” Iris begins to squirmer to get out of his grasp but it wasn’t much because of the drug coursing through her veins. Her body began to feel hot as she tried to fight back. “You damn bastard.” She growls out as Steve towers over her. Her body withered uncontrollably as her body began to sweat profusely.

“Oh, Baby. You shouldn’t be saying such naughty words.” His words were devilish and dark. A cocky grin still on his lips as he stared down at Iris. “Daddy will have to punish you now.” Iris’ eyes widened and glazed with horror. Steve climbs over her body and begins to undress her. His hands moved over to her chest, ripping Iris’s shirt open to reveal her breast. Steve lets out a groan. “Such pretty tits.” Steve’s hands gripped her chest as he rubbed his hard cock against her leg. “Can’t wait to fuck you.” He gasped before he moved to her legs. He eagerly and impatiently drags her pants and panties down. His eyes stared down at her pussy. He pushes her legs apart so he licks a long swipe along her lips. “You taste delicious.” Steve purrs.

“I have been thinking.” Steve traces his finger on her bud, stroking it softly. A choked moan escaped her lips as her body shook under his touch. “You humiliated me. Made me look like an idiot. And I realized that I need to return the favor.” His other hand moved over to her stomach. “Make you look like a slut. Stuck with a baby.” Iris’s heart dropped at the realization. She wanted to fight back, hit him! But all she could do was cry in frustration and fear. “But let me get you ready, baby.” One of Steve's hands strokes her bud quickly and the other scissors inside of her. It didn’t take long for her to cum, her legs shaking at the powerful orgasm. A loud cry escaped her lips at the feeling. “Look at you, you’re practically dripping. I knew you wanted this. That’s why you provoked me.”

Steve spreads her legs further, getting in between them. He admires her face, his finger tracing over her cheeks and his eyes soften. The softness in his eyes doesn’t last long. “You really are a beauty. And I’m going to take great pleasure in fucking you raw.” His lips curved into a cunning smile. Iris so badly wanted to sink into the mattress but it would be a lie if she said she didn’t enjoy the pleasure he gave her. His cock sunked into her pussy swiftly, her cum creating a coat for Steve to slip in. A deep growl escaped his throat. “Fuck you’re so tight. If I didn’t know any better, I would think you’re a virgin.” He cackles viciously.

But once he saw the horror in her eyes that’s when he became silent. His face was emotionless as he stayed completely still inside of Iris’ throbbing cunt. At first she didn’t hear it but it got louder. The laughter escaped from the bottom of Steve’s stomach. Pure delight was on Steve’s face. “Now plans have changed, baby. I’m keeping you forever.” Iris’ stomach turned in the worst way at his words. Yet once Steve placed a harsh and quick pace, she forgot almost everything. Instead focusing on tightening her hold onto Steve so she doesn’t fall, desperately clinging onto him.

He was focused, his face expression nothing more than serious. Steve’s thrust was deep and quick. He reached into places inside of Iris that she never knew existed. A loud cry escaped Iris’ lips as her body quivered under Steve. “Please!” She chokes out. A wide grin breaks out on Steve’s face at the sound of her small voice. His pace dulls as his shaft dung into the depth of Iris’ pussy shallowly. “What was that baby?” Her grasp on his forearm tightens as she desperately rocked her hips against him. Her curls stuck to her face as sweat coated her body.

“Please Steve.” She breathes out helplessly. Steve was intoxicated with the sight before him. He captures her lips into a passionate and heated kiss. “You have to tell me what you want, baby. I can’t read minds.” He purrs once he removes his lips from hers. She was silent. She was crying out to him but she didn’t know exactly why. Not only was her mind racing but her heart as well. “Please use me.” She shouts out. The slow pace Steve built drove her crazy. “Please Steve, faster harder.” She whines into his grasp.

“That’s all you had to say, sweet thing.” The grin on his lips was replaced with a smirk. His pace quickened rapidly and Iris moaned with delight. Her moans give Steve the power to go even faster. His bottom half is completely a blur as he slams into her with extreme force and speed. “Want me to fill that pussy up?” Steve’s voice was deep as he held her tightly. “Want me to knock you up?” Iris wasn’t able to comprehend his words, her focus solely on the pleasure. She nods her head quickly. “Please,” She begs, her legs quivering as she was on edge once again. “Your wish is my command, doll.” He whispers into her ears before chasing after their release.

Her walls tightened and throbbed around Steve’s cock. The tightened space made Steve throw in the towel. His cock spilled his cum into Iris’ unprepared pussy. Steve slid to her side with his cock still inside of her. “We are going to stay like this all week.” Iris didn’t hear his words as she had fallen asleep. Steve’s arms tightened around her body. “I’m never letting you go.” He kisses her neck and then her cheek before he too falls asleep.

#dark steve x reader #x black oc #Steve x oc #dark steve rogers #dark Steve Rogers x oc

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mymovingfingerwrites · 3 years

Text

courage, dear heart

When we think of Lucy, we think of her golden hair and her cheerful smile, we think of a girl walking through a wardrobe and accepting a new world without question. We think of Queen Lucy, blessed with the power to heal, the only girl on a ship full of boys searching for a hint of whence they came. We think of her at the end of the world, kind and lovely and sorrowful as a mouse rows away, and in the world beyond the end of the world, her eyes lit up with delight. Resolute Lucy, bold Lucy, perched like a bird on the back of a lion.

When we think of Narnia, we think of Lucy. How could we not? Was it not Lucy who opened a wardrobe door and found winter, was it not Lucy who refused to be minimized, was it not Lucy who infused the land with good cheer for years after her coronation, was it not Lucy who first cocked her head and said that the land was speaking to them and they must listen?

We think about Lucy, bright Lucy, glittering Lucy, and we know instinctively that Lucy was always the heroine of her own story. What we don’t consider is that in her darkest moments—for Lucy, like us all, was not always bright, no matter how the legends insisted otherwise—she felt at times captive by the winds of fate stirring her hair. Perhaps we are–though we don’t like to admit it—some of the many people in both worlds who looked at Lucy and resented her for having the audacity (the privilege) to fill the pages of her book with her own words without considering how heavy her pen may be.

(Was it really her book, though? Lucy did not deny she wrote her own narrative. She was Lucy the Valiant; she spoke the language of High Narnia, she heard when Aslan called, she commanded the long-dormant trees into existence once more. Lucy was familiar with the power of words. What she objected to was the idea that her life was her very own, that her canvas was blank except for marks of her own making. Dear Lucy, pulled uncomplainingly into heroics, a simple game of exploration leading to death and betrayal and heartbreak (and majesty, and light, and animals that could talk). No; this was not her book but if she had the (mis)fortune to open it she certainly would inscribe her legacy on it herself).

To our credit, we sense what Lucy had always known: she felt as though her role was inevitable. (In boys, we call that responsibility, or heroism). Perhaps that is what we resented. When you are a young girl with golden hair and blue eyes and the lightest smattering of freckles, when you are the baby of the family and coddled and loved dearly, when you are born with an infinite well of self-possession and three protective older siblings, when you believe in your own worth–stepping into the pages of your story and titling it as your own looks like a foregone conclusion from afar.

(Her sister, Susan, struggled with this for many years. Though she was the pretty one, or at least that was what her mother told her, Susan eyed Lucy’s waterfall of blonde hair with envy. Though she was meant to be gentle, Susan watched how animals flocked to her sister first, how even the most timid of creatures lined up to whisper their secrets into Lucy’s ears. This would take Susan a considerable amount of time to overcome, but let us not blame her too harshly. Being a girl is difficult enough; being the other girl in the story is harder still).

But what we do not see, unless we look very closely, is that nothing felt foregone for Lucy. What looks easy from afar was not from within. Lucy chose herself, over and over; she chose to follow the path Aslan lay out for her, and she chose to do so with good humor and kindness as armour against the inherent cruelty of the world, even the magic one.

Of all her siblings, Peter understood this best, though they never discussed it in so many words. Perhaps that is why Peter always trusted Lucy, or at least apologized to her without resentment when she was proven right. The bookends of the family, they were as temperamentally different as any other pair of siblings. Peter sometimes felt blinded by Lucy's incandescent optimism; Lucy at times was weighed by proximity to Peter's practicality.

But both of them understood duty, more so than Edmund, led so easily astray by pleasure, and Susan, who believed (at times to her credit) that the world owed her the same that she owed it. Neither Lucy nor Peter strayed from their tasks, not even when Lucy picked her cold and lonely way down to the shadow of a godly voice, nor when Peter first felt the undeniable weight of his gleaming sword marred by enemy blood. They chose, and they chose again, even when those choices did not feel like choices but inevitabilities.

For when one understands duty, taking one's place as hero is not self-indulgent. It is not privilege; it is a prerogative, and it is difficult. But where Peter found his duty in protection and caregiving, in oversight and the hard labor of daily majesty, Lucy found hers in vision and clarity and momentum. When Susan hesitated over the unknown and Edmund lay sniffling quietly when he thought nobody could hear, Lucy knew that her relentless confidence was as necessary as Peter's guidance.

(This was a burden, too. Who was positive for Lucy? Her siblings tried to be, of course; they loved each other dearly, more so in the following years. But this sense of need never left Lucy, this fear that if she did not smile that nobody else would ever smile again).

Cheerfulness and friendliness can be their own prisons. When you believe in yourself, others are relieved; they need not take on the responsibility of believing in you too. Lucy never allowed herself to stray (save from moments alone in a large, soft bed, save from a magic book that in its pages contained temptation, save from tears that splashed hotly in the cool Narnia wind) all the more rigidly because everyone expected that she never would.

(It takes strength to choose optimism; it takes willpower to respond to situations with cheerfulness. Lucy was valiant even at seven years old, remember. She knew that raising her head high was an act of defiance, she knew believing in her own experience was brave, she knew that daring to rescue a friend from the clutches of an unknown evil was perhaps foolhardy but nevertheless necessary. She may not wield a sword but do not mistake her empathy for weakness).

Beauty and softness can be their own prisons, too. Youth and innocence and loveliness can make you more—it can mark you as worthy to speak to a god-turned-lion, your friendship as worth the threat of eternal damnation—but it invariably means that more is all you are allowed to be. There were days when Lucy fled back to her castle, her nose red and her eyes stinging, her hair twisted into disarray, and wanted nothing more than to crawl beneath a heap of blankets and throw pillows at the door just to prove that she too could be cruel, she too could be wanting. It is no easier to smile when tasked to in Narnia than it is anywhere else.

Sometimes Lucy resented her role as the youngest, the softest, the angel (or was she meant to be the prophet?). She saw Susan notching an arrow to her bow, watched Peter and Edmund joust in the courtyard, and looked down at her glittering bottle of cordial and longed to smash it against the door and take up war instead of peace.

Father Christmas gave her that vial, after all, a children’s story speaking to a child. Her power was limited, finite. Lucy began to use it sparingly, though she would have liked to heal every small hurt that befell a member of her kingdom. Part of her always felt a frisson of fear at the thought that she may one day no longer have the power to heal. Part of her felt anger that even Father Christmas did not think her capable. None of her siblings had gifts of borrowed power.

(Edmund did not get a gift at all, but he was, surprisingly, placid about this slight. He still remembered the enchanting taste of Turkish delight, even years after it last melted on his tongue. He knew that even now he would betray his family for another taste of that wickedness, and that knowledge made him humble. His gift was that he would never be tempted again, and for that, he would trade all the gold in the world).

Let us talk about what it must have cost Lucy, more than her siblings, to return to a world of mundane happenstance. Let us think about her, forced to be seven years old, forced to plait her hair and be seen and not heard and befriend children scarred from years of war. These playmates did not want to be coaxed into the brilliant world of Lucy’s imagination. They did not want to hear of Aslan, they did not want to pretend to be anything they were not. They had survived days or months or years away from their parents, but not in the warm embrace of a magic land; they had been torn from their families by trains and cars leaving in the dead of night, they had been sent to farms where food stretched thin, to towns that covered their windows with black paint and slept six to a bed, heel to head. Magic to them was their father, home from the war, with a smile that did not quite reach his eyes but was nevertheless warm. It was their older siblings, reunited and once again casual monarchs of the family dynamic. It was their mothers chiding them to eat, their friends once again within easy access, the serenity of the night broken only by lorries and not sirens.

Lucy had experienced hardship before, of course. Everything has a balance, after all. When you feel joy deeply, sorrow cuts you to your very core. When you are easily delighted, you understand how ephemeral delight can be. Lucy carried joy with her, of course: the wild exhilaration of Bacchus and his nymphs, how right it felt when her and her siblings rushed out to the parapet to see a brilliant golden sun nestle into the cool embrace of the Narnia forest, the softness of Reepicheep's fur tinged with drops from the sea at the end of the world, how Aslan looked at her and she felt seen. Lucy never shied away from emotion. Lucy was valiant in this too.

But she never forgot the lesson of dear old Tumnus. In Narnia, he was a constant presence in her dining hall. But she never forgot that the cost of her entrance into this glittering world was an innocent creature frozen for daring to take her home for tea. She never forgot that her siblings doubted her, that her youngest brother was led astray by sparkle and glitter. She remembered the silent despair of Caspian searching for his family, Eustace wondering which poor soul he devoured in the guise of a dragon defeating another. To the end of her days, she thought of the quiet dignity and terrible sadness of Lord Rhoop gazing upon the still bodies of his very closest companions, choosing to condemn himself to an endless sleep to be by their side on only the faintest suggestion of hope. Because Lucy was Lucy, she took those feelings into her own and cared for them as she cared for their benefactors.

But in a way, Lucy had not yet experienced loneliness and fear, not like her siblings had, not like these war-torn children. The closest she had gotten were those first few days in the professor’s house where none believed her, or when she walked alone to Aslan in the middle of the night wishing desperately someone would follow. For most of her time in Narnia, however, Lucy was easily, automatically accepted, her majesty unquestioned. In Narnia, she was unique: lovely Lucy, Queen Lucy, friend of centaurs and fauns and nymphs, immortalized in ballads, welcome in badger dens and banquet halls alike. Lucy was Aslan’s favorite, of course–didn’t he speak mostly to her, didn’t he cuddle her in his great and terrible paws? Queen of peace and harbinger of joy.

When she twisted back into an unfamiliar body she expected this world to accept her, too. Yet Lucy was not celebrated in this world; at least not automatically. Susan took one look at her circumstances and tossed her head and vowed to be queen in this life too. Edmund chewed his lip and sighed a little to Lucy but bent his head to his studies, just in case Aslan was wrong and he would be forced to rely on the battles to be won in schoolhouses and universities. Peter raged, in his own way, at the loss of his kingdom, unable to cope with his duty and his purpose and his raison d'être so brutally torn from him.

Lucy tried to talk to the trees, but they ignored her, their bark cool to the touch. She tried to dance in the meadows, but the grass was sharp and covered her legs with rashes. She tried to befriend the dogs at her local shelter but they snapped at her suspiciously. She tried to talk to her peers and hear their stories and stand up for them like she stood up for her subjects but they eyed her with mistrust and laughed at the boundless optimism she tried desperately to embody. This generation of children was not prone to easy positivity, remember. Those in Narnia had been so desperate for help after their long years of winter. Humans, she found, were surprisingly not.

Lucy had never been ignored before. She had never been disliked openly, she had never struggled to make friends. She did not know how to handle girls eyeing her with jealousy or derision, how to process boys that pulled her hair not to flirt but to hurt. Her gentle heart and loving manner had always won her praise and acclaim, but in those brittle years after the war, she was playing a game where she did not know the rules.

She was not able to admit until years later that perhaps this loneliness was good for her. Heroines need strife to grow, even in all the old stories. Lucy could have turned her back on who she was in Narnia; she could have tempered the blaze of her spirit, fell obediently into the ranks of conformity. She could have stemmed the flow of her hope and turned instead to sheer practicality. Was that not what her siblings were doing?

(No, dear Lucy, stubborn to the very end. That was not what they were doing and you should have given them the benefit of the doubt).

In some sort of twist of fate, Lucy did most of her growing in this world, off the pages of the book, trying to decide what was important to her in a world where the rules were more (less) rigid, the values were more (less) prescribed. This was where she became truly valiant, in the mundane manner as well as the majestic. In this world she learned how to listen: quietly and patiently. Here the silent trees aided her, providing a calm and soothing canvas on which a friend could shyly begin to paint her troubles. She learned that being bold and brash could sometimes be selfish instead of brave.

Lucy remembered what it felt like to be seven and ignored. She remembered encountering a fawn risking death for her company, even though she was not yet a decade on this earth. She remembered her own siblings’ gentle condescension. She knew what it felt like to be dismissed. Sometimes you do not want somebody to fight for you. Sometimes you want somebody to help you as you learn how to fight for yourself.

In this world, Lucy learned what it meant to be valiant without pride. She learned how much bravery it takes to be heroine of a story with many other heroines and heroes and warriors and soldiers, that being one of many provides strength. (It reminds her of those old sunny days, playing chess in the courtyard, all her siblings casually, loosely together). In this world, when she lifted her head and smiled warmly, when she woke in the morning and greeted the sun, she did so with optimism she crafted herself, with positivity she forged out of the steel of her spine. She learned you did not have to be in the forefront of a story to blaze in it, that sometimes people did not want love and laughter but truth and honesty and justice. She met her peers’ eyes and they lifted their chins and she made them feel fierce, not protected.

When Lucy thought, years later, of the vial Father Christmas gave her, she realized he was giving her an instrument of her own power. Her ability—her great burden—was that she could not save everyone but she could save many. She had to choose. Lucy was not alone in this; a sword gives one the ability to take a life—but to trade a death for many lives. A bow allows one to even the stakes while remaining aloof, to assign death to others from a great distance. No gift at all forces one to look inside themselves and find the strength that was always there. Magic to heal, like all of these gifts, like all gifts, was meaningless unless one wielded it.

Lucy could have been afraid of indecision; she could have kept her vial locked away or pretended it had run out. She could have used it all within years, saving this generation of her subjects only to damn the next. The choice was hard, sometimes. Sometimes she left the vial behind and had to grasp the hand of a dying soldier and know in her heart that she could have saved him had she only decided to bring it. Sometimes, particularly toward the end, she had it in her pocket but knew she could not use it, that she had to be brave for those ahead as well as those now. These choices were not easy. These choices were her own. Peter, burdened with majesty, had to make choices about who to damn to combat, what was worth fighting for—but he never had to choose who to save. Susan, gentle, had to weigh the many competing demands of the land and decide which to prioritize, strategize how to best achieve her goals, knowing the weight of her kingdom was on her back—but she knew there was always a second choice, always a way to optimize a situation. Edmund, even and fair, had to devise a system of just rule, had to know when to stick to it and when to revise it, even when a friend had to be punished, even when it hurt to be the judge—but he did not have to enforce these laws, only set them.

Warrior, strategist, arbiter, healer: all four Pevensie siblings shouldered their own burdens and supported each other in the heavy task of ruling over many. When three of them returned (when six of them returned) to see their land destroyed, to see a new land created, they remembered those choices and they vowed to uphold them. Lucy had no vial in the kingdom of heaven but that had never been what gave her power. Even in the golden light at the end of the world there were jealousies and anger and injustice and strife. Even in the endless summer of forever there was the chance to be brave.

(Susan, on Earth, mourned her baby sister more than anyone else. Peter had death in the shadows of his eyes since he took a life at thirteen years old and was praised for it. Edmund too seemed to know that he was living on borrowed time. But Lucy, dear Lucy, did not deserve to be struck down so young. Susan had watched her grow into the set of her shoulders and ignite the light in her smile not once but twice. She watched Lucy forge a mortal crown out of sheer determination and optimism and she felt something like awe. She wanted her sister to wear it; she wanted her sister to join her in this brave new world, where women were beginning to display the beauty of their resilience and their wild and clever strength. She wanted to apologize, to admit she too remembered Narnia, that she had not understood the type of strength Lucy drew about her like a warm shawl.

Susan did not know for many years where that fateful train journey took her siblings. She deliberately did not consider Narnia, for why would a land full of kindness and light steal her family senselessly, randomly? (She did not know of their mission, of magic rings, of beasts lurking in the darkness. How could she, when they deliberately did not include her?)

She chose to believe that Lucy and Peter and Edmund were in a land of eternal stillness. Susan remembered those burdens, too, even if the details of Narnia were on some days blurry. It seemed more sad, somehow, to think of her siblings once again wearing their crowns on stone thrones, as if their time on Earth meant nothing.

When she opened her eyes and saw Lucy again, young and royal, she felt at first a deep pang of regret before the relief flooded in).

For Lucy, going to the world after the world of Narnia was not frightening but exhilarating, not limiting but empowering. It did not take long for her to forget what she left behind on her mortal world; they had teased Susan, once, for shutting out remembrances of talking animals and magic dancing along the stone paths. If Lucy remembered that, she might have felt shame, now that the quiet majesty of a row of silent English oaks faded into blurs, that the chatter of her peers became as dim and incomprehensible as squirrels.

But Lucy was never one to look back; she was eager to flip ahead to the new pages in her story, here in a world where the pages had no ending. There were new friends to meet and a kingdom to build and cheers to receive and challenges to fight. Susan would realize this too, one day, joining her siblings in this world beyond the world. Lucy was suited for this, as if she were chosen for this, as if she chose this over everything else she could have chosen.

She wrote her own story, yes, but we should remember that does not mean that all of her words were her own.

#this has been sitting in my drafts for months so i decided...just to post it #lucy is a hard character for me #i think i was always jealous of her as a kid #this is an attempt to think through that #anyway #lmk what you think #lucy pevensie #chronicles of narnia #the pevensies #peter pevensie #edmund pevensie #susan pevensie #my moving finger writes #the chronicles of narnia

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kajikxp · 3 years

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Loving a king

I was just walking through a dark allay, my footsteps were not heard by a man I was calmly following. He was scared, he knew subconsciously that something was after him. Yeah, he should be terrified. But today I'm gonna make it quick. I don't have time to spare. I took out my dagger, which would pierce your skin just by touching the blade... With one swift motion I grabbed his neck hard, which would normally leave a bruise and then I silenced his cries for help with one precise cut. Blood splashed out and now his lifeless body hit the cold ground, but before that I grabbed the key, he wore on silver chain around his neck. Another well done job, now I have to go to her, but firstly, I have to change my clothes, sun is going to rise in fifteen minutes. I climbed up onto roof and silently run back to my house. Sky was clear today, but I knew it was going to rain today. This way they'd find his body maybe tomorrow afternoon when their boss would send others to look around for him. I will still have time to do that one job. That's what I thought but I didn't know that she actually left a letter inside my dark house, where now I was. I stripped from my black shirt, pants and boots then just started making myself a coffee. Thank to my scumbag of father I could withstand three days without a sleep but at least that is what killed him. He was creating me like some monster so I show him that what this monster could do. Only thing he taught me was killing so in return I turned back at him for underestimating me. After some time, I met a Momo, she was kind enough to me to give me a shelter and food and lastly a job which I could do. Still people would be conscious if I would live here and did not nothing in a daylight, so I have to find a job at closest bakery. They didn't ask questions why I was always tired and why I was sometimes late – or maybe that was because I would always tell them that I have insomnia and something along those line that they left me be. With coffee in me I put on after a shower light blue shirt with brown pant and boots and left house to the bakery. People always looked at me and I did not care anymore. My half red and half white hair really were weird and not to mention my mismatched eyes, grey and light blue. I was quite but really not so unfriendly, or that was what Deku and Kirishima always told me. I only have a rough exterior but soft inside. I never really care enough to tell them I'm not. Not after that once time when I told them I'm the assassin and they laugh it off with Kaminari and Sero. If they would believe me and sold me to the crown, they would be filthy rich and shouldn't work for their three lifetimes. Well, who am I to judge? Their mistakes are theirs and only. Today flight right around me. Deku and Kirishima making out in the storage room, Shinso half a day in the bakery sipping a coffee reading a book and looking out for Kaminari. Always the same as the day before. I was cleaning on today's duty which was mine and one last customer came in. He had glasses, was tall and talked like some kind of robot, asking for a croissant for a royalty. I didn't really care and did as ordered. When he left my only though was about me seeing him again maybe. Yeah, I was about to do a regicide and betray the kingdom, but I couldn't care less. Hope it will go fine. I told myself back at home in my black outfit only for killing even smelling faintly like it and iron.

...

Silently going through a palace like it was mine, outside only noises of a rain. Guards couldn't see me, when I was walking in the shadows and thanks to their chatting about really loud king, I was finally able to find his room from which were heard loud blasting and loud voices, actually three of them. One of them I heard today. The robot-like human. I had a feeling I would meet him again. Well, I need those two to go away. Then a plan strokes me. I made a ruckus in the hallway when a made one of the guards scream and after that I cut of his tongue. He kept screaming though. The doors open in a fast manner and some pretty girl runs outside. "Iida, run and call a medic! Fast!" She screams at him when she checks situation. Guard kept his eyes on me screaming and pointing finger at me. Before she could turn around and maybe see me, I waved at a guard and slipped into the room, closed the door and locked them. When I turned around, there was a knife on my throat. "What the actual fuck are you doing here and what's going on?" Asks a king harshly. He had pretty, scarlet eyes, fire burning everything inside them into ash. His spiky blond hair messed into every direction. I only smiled to myself. "I'm pretty surprised you can actually see me." I grin and them with few swift motions change our positions to reverse only with little dismally to that he pulled my hood off. His eyes travelled all over my face and he whispers. "You're so pretty..." With that he kisses me. I was never ever so much surprised and frozen on a spot. He grabbed the knife and throw it away with my dagger. When I moved, I could only ask him how the fuck did he know about my dagger. "You looked like a shitty person to have one. The Shadow, the one who is the fucking living legend. Every shitty brat knows you, but nobody actually lived long enough to tell the tale how you look like." He smirks. "Who could have known that only way to stop you was a simple kiss" He licks his lips sensually. "And have a fucking good taste even though smelling like a death." He smiles at me and when he takes my face in his hand and caresses me, I don't object, until there's a pounding on the door and screams in the name of a king. "Go and return the other night, Halfie." He whispers and I cannot do otherwise, but before I jump out of the window many meters above the ground, I kiss him and when he wants to deepen it, I break the kiss. "Tomorrow, you Highness." With that I jump out and it makes me laugh, when he runs to the window and looks down, me standing on the window under his. "King who cares about his assassin's health – that's going to make a pretty good history book." I snicker and after he blow me a flirty kiss with a key, which I catch, I go back inside with a hood on and escaped a castle. The heavy rain clouds cleared and the sky only shining with many stars promising a good start of something nobody could ever imagine.

...

Today was a day I have once in a time slept all the night mostly. Once I was on my way to the work in bakery, I could hear all the people talking to each other. "Did you hear that? Someone broken to the castle!" "Did they steal something?" "I know it was a Shadow! They went to kill a king!" "They're after the crown!" "Even his most trusted guards couldn't see them!" "It's only miracle the king still lives!" "The king didn't even tell them how they looked like! Not even a gender!" "They just let him live!" "Do you think they had something with the king?" "I don't think it was a Shadow! Nobody ever lived after meeting them!" "Don't lie! It's a girl and seduced a king!" And so on and so on. I knew that today I was going to meet Momo inside of my house. At least I've got my hood with my work outfit with me. Little did I know that today I was going to meet with her last time. At work I left my things under the table and went to selling to the citizen, who came in. All day all I heard was about the king, me and assassination. Like the day before in the evening came in a royalty. But today it was a king himself. "Get your things, extra, we're going." With that said I just grabbed my things not even looking on the others, who were silenced with one look from a king, and with him we came outside into a dark allay. "Put on you other cloths, Pretty boy, today I'm going to meet the other one, with you..." He whispers into my ear. "You know, they're going to die, right? But you know that exact time, you left me alive, didn't you, Shadow?" His voice so soft and deep even more than ever. My only responds for him was a nod and taking out my black shirt and pants and one for him too. "I think, this would fit you so much better that the red one you're wearing, your Highness." He growls, but when he gets what I meant, he didn't complain anymore and just put it on without looking at me and me at him. This wasn't the time to do this and we both knew that. We're going to make this end. When I jumped at a rooftop, I held out an arm to him, but he surprises me even more, when he uses his strong arms and pull himself up too. I was fast, slim and silent and he was all bulky and strong, I wasn't even sure if in a real fight I or him would win. And that's a hard one when actually almost no one was ever a challenge for me and my assassinations. Without a word I started running from rooftop to the other in a moonlight and its shadows, which I knew too well to his Highness's liking, I was leading us to my house almost at the end of a city. I supposed the king was never here, but he was so natural at learning, that even his steps were more silent than that night at which we met inside his royal room, so I could never guess if he was there or not. My window was opened, and I came in swiftly with king right at my heels. There inside in my armchair was sitting Momo. Her dark hair up in the ponytail as always, I saw her. "So, you're finally here. Hello there, your Highness." She says ironically which was a big change from her usually well-mannered self. "You're on his side right now," she shakes her head in disbelieve. "And here I thought we could be together and rule this kingdom by each other's side. I love you, Shoto!" She declares. "I gave you everything you ever needed and now you're turning your back to me? After all that time? Didn't you love me back?" She asks desperate after I told her everything. She really did save me, but she never did bother to really asked me out, if she did, I would tell her I was gay. I would tell her that all the missions I did just because she gave me money for that, I would tell her that I never really care about a throne. "Then why him? Why? How did you...?" She asked and king answered her honestly. "I just gave him a kiss and asked him in some way out. I had a guts and not only a dream. If you want something to become a true, you have to tell that to someone and with conversation you would get, what you so much wanted, what your heart was craving for." In the end they left her there standing, watching with a broken hea

#writers on tumblr #boku no hero academia #momo yaoyorozu #shoto torodoki #bakugou katsuki #bakugo x todoroki #todoroki x bakugou #assassin au #fan fic prompts #fanfic #king au #my writing #writing #writer #modern #trying

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ofbardsandmonsters · 4 years

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Thank you @riotfalling for requesting I tackle this prompt and making it Winteriron!! You can also find it here on AO3!

Tony Stark has never been one to back down when there’s something he wants. Toys, sweets, attention, grades, cars, employees.

Lovers.

And the former Hydra assassin whose lips he now knows the taste of thanks to a split second decision fueled by a lack of sleep and coffee jitters three nights ago is no exception.

They’d been growing closer for months. Now, Bucky is more likely to be found lounging on the workshop couch with a book in his hand than spending any time with Steve. And Tony had been so sure that the big brunette had been giving him the same looks Tony had been throwing his way for the last several weeks. In fact, despite what some might consider evidence to the contrary, he’s still confident that he wasn’t wrong.

But that doesn’t leave him any less confused as to why Bucky’s been completely avoiding him since their kiss. A kiss that the other man had seemed just as enthusiastic about in the moment. He had looked just as affected before he gently encouraged Tony to finally get some much needed sleep. And Tony knows he hadn’t been imagining the little smile on the other man’s face as he walked away.

Which is why the fact that there’s been no trace of Bucky anywhere for three whole days makes no sense.

FRIDAY has been no help. His youngest child clearly has an even bigger soft spot for their favorite super soldier than her father does because she’s flat out refused to help him get the drop on Bucky. Tony’s not even sure that she isn’t helping Bucky by alerting him any time Tony’s headed his way.

A few years ago, Tony probably would have given up after day one and gone to hide in the shop to nurse his wounded pride. But he likes to think he’s grown past most of those insecurities. And he wants this. He knows they could be so good together. So he enlists the help of the one person that he knows is more invested in Bucky’s happiness and well being than anyone else.

He goes to Steve.

By the time Tony’s done giving Steve the rundown, the blonde is groaning dramatically, one big hand thrown over his eyes.

“Damnit, Buck.”

Tony chuckles, bare heels drumming against the lower cabinets of the counter he’s perched on in Steve’s kitchen. Sometimes, Steve reminds him so much of Rhodey it’s a little spooky. He knows he’s seen the same look of exasperation on his own best friend’s face numerous times throughout their long standing friendship.

“Tony, I promise, you were not reading anything wrong. Bucky never shuts up about you. It’s kinda gross, actually.”

That makes Tony laugh harder, and he gratefully accepts the mug of coffee Steve presses into his hands. It’s made up exactly how he likes, enough cream to turn it a soft caramel color and exactly zero sugar, because Rhodey may be his best friend but Steve is a very close second and he knows Tony almost as well.

“I may have acted in a sleep deprived state, but even my less than functional brain wouldn’t have gone for it if I wasn’t absolutely sure it would be welcomed. I thought we would talk about it in the morning, but I can’t pin him down. So I’m… kind of at a loss.”

Steve drums his fingers on the counter next to Tony’s leg, a thoughtful expression on his face.

“I can help you corner him, but it’s not gonna be easy to convince him. Buck’s still… vulnerable, in places. There’s still so many things he thinks he’s not worthy of, that he doesn’t deserve, because of what Hydra made him do.”

That’s a mindset that Tony’s all too familiar with. It took a long time and a lot of reassurance from the people closest to him before he stopped holding himself to the sins of his past. He knows Bucky’s come a long way from when Steve first brought him home, but demons that size don’t let go easily.

“Steve, you get me in a room with him and keep him from running away, and I’ll do all the rest. And FRI, baby girl, daddy loves you but if you so much as hint to Bucky that Steve’s conspiring against him, I will recode you to run nothing but refrigerators. Are we clear?”

There’s no response for a moment, but Tony’s content to wait the AI out. Luckily, he doesn’t have to wait long.

“Yes, boss.”

Tony snorts, recognizing the petulant tone that he definitely did not program into her. Turning back to Steve, his face settles into a more serious expression.

“Bucky’s… special. He’s important to me. I’m not gonna give up easy.”

Steve smiles at his admission, and he wraps Tony in a hug.

“I know, Shellhead. There’s nobody I trust with him more than you.”

Three hours later, Tony’s sitting amongst the plants in Bruce’s rooftop garden. It’s not really a strange place for him to be, honestly. The garden is calming, and he’s joined Bruce for sunrise yoga (on the mornings Tony hasn’t actually been to sleep yet by the time the sun is coming up) up here a number of times. Steve is standing at the railing overlooking the city when the elevator tings. Tony tenses, nerves and anticipation making his palms sweat, but he doesn’t move. It takes effort, but even when Bucky appears, he manages to push down the instant reaction to stand up and demand answers.

“Hey Stevie, what did you—”

“Sit down, Buck.”

The brunette looks confused, and a little worried, but he does as he’s told and takes a seat in one of the loungers scattered around the space.

“What’s this about, Steve? Is… everything ok?”

Steve sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose before turning frustrated blue eyes on his best friend.

“It’s about Tony, Buck. What the hell are you doing?”

Bucky shrinks back, shoulders rounding as he drops his gaze to his feet.

“Look, Steve—”

“Nope. No. Don’t even start trying to give me some bullshit answer. I know you. I know when you’re sweet on someone. I’ve seen that look in your eyes. You want Tony, and by his own admission, he wants you too. He’s a good person, my best friend in the world other than you. And I want my two best friends to be happy. So what gives?”

“I know , Steve. God, you think I don’t realize exactly how perfect Tony is?” Bucky sighs, rubbing both hands over his face aggressively before looking up at Steve. “That’s exactly why I can’t.”

“That’s bullshit.”

Bucky’s head snaps up, turning to look at where Tony had finally stepped out of hiding. The angry, heartbroken look on the other man’s face makes Bucky flinch.

“Tony…”

The smaller man comes closer, stopping just out of reach and tilting his chin up to look Bucky in the eyes. Neither man notices Steve quietly slipping away.

“It’s bullshit. We’re both so far from perfect, but don’t you think the world’s put us through enough? Don’t you think we deserve to be happy?”

Bucky takes an unconscious step forward, one hand reaching out towards Tony. Even as he tries to hold himself back, he can’t fight the desire to comfort and soothe the other man.

“Tony, of course you deserve to be happy. I just… I'm—I’m sorry. I’m not who you need.”

“But you’re who I want. Isn’t that enough?”

He doesn’t know if it’s Tony’s words or the way his pretty brown eyes turn liquid with the gathering tears, but something in Bucky breaks and there’s no stopping him from closing the distance between them and wrapping the other brunette up in his arms. Tony’s hands come up to fist in the back of his shirt, holding on tight. His next words are muffled by the fabric, but Bucky’s enhanced hearing makes them easy to pick up.

“Don’t you want me too?”

Bucky’s hands move to cup Tony’s cheeks, tilting his face up so their eyes meet. His thumbs brush under Tony’s eyes to catch the tears that have slipped out.

“I’ve never wanted anything or anyone more.”

Tony’s face breaks out into a delighted smile, and he stretches up to press their lips together in a soft kiss. When he tries to pull away, Bucky chases after him, deepening the kiss.

Tony’s already got him beat two to nothing. He’s got a lot of making up to do to even the score.

#winteriron #fluff #thank you riot and stella for being my constant cheer squad #you guys are amazing

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hadtochangemyurlquick · 4 years

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here’s 5.7k of the unsinkable 8 during the zombie apocalypse. good for fans of leatin and goodfoe. it’s super unedited and i’m mainly just posting it for fun cause i finished it today. some references to world war z the book for fun, and i used the zombies from that too.

A flash of blonde and Dot’s gun went up, pointed directly at the head of whatever made their way toward her. She had two bullets left, six cigarettes, and the last mini of hard liquor she raided from the motel back in Aquilla.

She’d have to get it in one shot, which would be hard sitting down, with her back to it, half delirious.

She grunted as she pulled herself around, her leg still out in the makeshift splint. The zed crept closer, not going at the usual hobbling pace. It definitely had caught her scent though, maybe it was down a few limbs already.

She cocked her gun, flicking off the safety, keeping her finger off the trigger. She’d wait until she could see the whites of its eyes. Get it in one shot.

The blonde head crept closer and she finally tucked her gun over the rocks, making eye contact with it for the first time.

“Shelby Goodkind?”

“Dot Campbell?”

Shelby stared at her, lowering her own gun and Dot let out a breath of relief.

“Dottie, oh my god, I thought you were one of ‘em.” She put away her gun, Dot doing the same and she ran over. “It’s so good to see ya, what’s wrong?” She looked at the leg, her face paling.

“Ankles broken,” Dottie muttered. “Was gonna treat myself to one last drink,” she gestured at the bottle.

“Oh lord,” Shelby said. “Well that’s no good, I got a place not to far from here I’ve been camping out in. Some first aid stuff too.”

“I can’t give you anything back for it,” Dot said.

“We both know two people are more likely to make it,” Shelby said.

She looked sunburned and hollowed out, a little hungrier than the last time Dot saw her, headed with her family to that military base. She was alone, and desperate, everyone was. Because here was how it went in Texas. You could trust a stranger as far as you could throw ‘em, but you needed people to live. So if you had people, you lived. And Dot was people, or as close to people as Shelby was willing to get. She musta lost a lot to lower her standards so far.

“Alright,” Dot said. “We’re gonna have to go slow and you’re gonna have to carry a lot of shit.”

“No problem,” Shelby beamed.

Back at the camp, an old rusting trailer with some battery Shelby told her she was saving for a rainy day, Shelby re-splinted her, fed and watered her, and they pooled their resources. Twenty-six cigs now, which might get ‘em a few hours in a safe car north, if they wanted it. Or it might get ‘em some food, or a get out of jail free card, depending on the hunger of the people hunting ‘em.

It was late at night when Dot realized she hadn’t even asked yet.

“Family’s gone then?”

“Yeah,” Shelby said. “You?”

“My dad died before this shit show,” Dot said.

“Lucky,” Shelby said. She took a swig from the mini, and passed it over to Dot. “What’s your plan?”

“I heard there was a safer spot near San Antonio,” Dot said. “Running water and shit.”

Shelby shook her head, “Gone, three weeks ago. Heard it on the radio.”

Dot nodded, “What about you?”

“Radio said Hawaii’s better,” Shelby said. “There’s an operation ferrying people there on the west coast. It’s a thousand cigs per person. But there’s work by the dock if you’re willing to do it.”

“Work for you?” Dot asked.

Shelby’s jaw tightened, “I’ll do what I have to do. Lord forgive me.”

Dot sighed, “Sounds like we go west then.”

They hung around in the trailer for three days, pushing the limits of what was safe, and stumbled on to a new place in the area at daybreak on the fourth day. Dot’s ankle wasn’t broken, with the inflatable cast Shelby had in a week or so she’d be something regarding useful, and as long as she didn’t push herself she’d be more than fine.

Spending time with Shelby Goodkind was another story. For one thing, despite the zombie apocalypse, complete destruction of their lives and modern society, the death of her family and everyone in their town, Shelby was still good and kind. She’d clutch at the cross around her neck every time they’d pass a body, and would never touch one, even the ones that were recent and obviously not stripped clean. It made Dot kinda mad, she found five cigs just walking, and she wondered how many Shelby passed off being squeamish.

But Shelby also wasn’t squeamish, wasn’t afraid to take down a zed with a kitchen knife, and with that same hand wipe the gore off Dot all gentle. She called her Dottie, gave her the last blanket, and always volunteered for the first shift so Dot could watch the sunrise. Dot hadn’t been cared for in a long while, hadn’t been around people in even longer. She decided she might love it.

But Shelby was a magnet, always had been, she talked about god’s light long enough that she got Dot believing it all fell on her. It wasn’t a real surprise when she showed up with a stray.

“What the fuck,” Dot said. “Did you kidnap a child?”

“I did not kidnap a child,” Shelby said, picking the girl up with some difficulty and lifting her onto the backseat of the broken down minivan they were holed up in.

“I sent you out to get sunscreen,” Dot said. “How did you come back with a child?”

“She’s our age,” Shelby said. “I think. And listen, I found her barricaded in a utility closet with a bad fever, I knew we had some tablets but I didn’t wanna leave her.”

“Like bite fever?” Dot asked. “We don’t have enough bullets to—”

“No,” Shelby shook her head, “Look,” she gently unwrapped a bandage around the girl’s arm, revealing a bad slice. “It’s infected. Not a bite. We’re okay.”

Dot sighed and nodded. The girl’d probably try and rob ‘em blind but if they watched her hands and got away fast enough they should be fine. They’d be fine.

“You’re more trouble than you’re worth,” Dot muttered. Shelby smiled, all sweet and gentle and bright and Dot rolled her eyes.

The girl took the tablets, they washed and changed the bandages, after about fourteen hours she blinked awake, unfortunately while Dot was on watch.

“Who—who are you?”

“Dot Campbell,” she said.

The girl stared at her.

“My friend saved your ass,” Dot said. “Shelby.”

“Um,” the girl inched back, “Why? Where am I?”

“We’re on the twenty-two, not from from the ten-eighty,” Dot told her. “You got a nasty infection there, got any cigs?”

“No, I don’t smoke.”

Dot blinked at her. “Alright then.”

“My friends will be looking for me,” the girl said. “I should get back to them.” She didn’t have an accent, Dot realized, not even a thin one like her own.

“Shelby found you around Mr. K’s, we can draw you a map if you’d like,” Dot said. “Where you from?”

“Austin,” the girl lied, badly.

“Alright then,” Dot said again. “Well we’ll draw you a map in the mornin and you can leave a day break. It ain’t far.”

“Thank you,” the girl said. “For helping me.”

“Shelby’s idea,” Dot said. Neither of ‘em slept the whole time, the girl smart enough to keep an eye out, and Dot’s whole job to watch out. She woke Shelby up when she was supposed to and easily muddled into a slumber.

A nice thing, about the zombie apocalypse, was Dot had gotten a lot better at sleeping. She used to stay up for hours thinking ‘bout how she’d pay the bills, how much her dad’s meds cost, whether he was coughing more that night than he did most nights, but now she hit whatever soft looking rock she decided to call a pillow and conked out until Shelby woke her. Shelby, on the other hand, barely slept a wink, shooting up at the slightest sign of trouble, even when Dot was on watch. Too much time on her own, Dot’d guess.

Before Shelby Mateo wandered with Dot. He was quiet and sweet and she had took care of him as best she could. Shelby didn’t have nobody before Dot. Just her dead parents, and if Dot remembered eighth grade soccer well enough, a couple of dead siblings too.

So Dot pretty much conked out and missed the way the girl and Shelby giggled all night. But even she wasn’t blind to their bond when she woke, the way the girls smiled easily at one another, laughed with each other, kept up with each other.

“Dottie,” Shelby said. “Martha,” so that was the stranger’s name “said you told her we could draw her a map but Mr. K’s ain’t far, we might as well take her.”

Dot grunted, she didn’t wanna waste a day but it wasn’t like Mr. K’s would take all day and they might as well see if they could find any more cigs. She hadn’t met any non-smokers in a long while. Apocalypse sorta took the fun out of being straight-edge, if Dot had to guess.

Dot took the back, a metal bat out and ready, and Shelby and Martha took the front. Shelby had a makeshift spear made, good for longer range, but worse up close, and she gave Martha the other bat they had. To borrow, Dot had emphasized.

One of the other things that never got old about the apocalypse, was walking up a highway. Walking straight up that middle line, knowing no one would dare drive a car ‘round there. It felt like the world was yours and empty, like you were finding it, rebuilding it, building it. It was as close to a cowboy as she had felt since her daddy let her ride on his back. It was as close to free as she had ever felt.

They got back to Mr. K’s and Dot saw the approaching figures first, aiming her rifle right at ‘em, safety off and gun cocked, but her finger off the trigger. It was Shelby’s hunting rifle, actually, but she had handed it to Dot first chance she had, looking kinda pale. She had Dot’s old handgun now, useless with this kinda range.

“Live ones?” Shelby asked.

“Can’t tell,” Dot said. “Just kinda standing there.”

“They could be waiting for me,” Martha said. Dot glanced at her, hoping the girl wasn’t actually as naive as she seemed. She probably was.

They walked as close as they dared, before Martha was able to confirm that yes it was her friends.

She ran at ‘em and one of ‘em collided with her, slamming her into a hug. There were two more, just kinda watching Dot and Shelby.

“We should go,” Dot said. “We did what we said.”

“Dottie,” Shelby said.

Dot sighed and the two of ‘em trudged up to the happy pair, reuniting like they had been separated for years, decades, instead of a few hours. It was a miracle they were reunited at all, Mateo said he’d meet her back at the camp in an hour and she had to bash his head in six months later with a sledge hammer.

“Who’re your friends, Martha?” One of the other people asked. It was four girls counting Martha, lucky, none of ‘em white, but they all looked around the same age as Dot and Shelby.

“This is Shelby,” Martha grinned, “And Dot.”

Dot nodded at them.

“I am just so pleased to make your acquaintance,” Shelby smiled, holding out her hand to the girl who still had an arm wrapped around Martha.

“This is Toni,” Martha said, squeezing the girl’s side when she didn’t take Shelby’s hand. “And Rachel and Nora.”

“Ah,” Shelby smiled, “Toni your sister right?”

Martha nodded, Toni glared. “Yeah it’s great to meet you or whatever. There a reason you kidnapped Martha?”

“I saw her passed out and worried she was alone,” Shelby explained. “I knew we had some tablets back at the camp but—”

“What do you want?” Rachel asked. “We got about six hundred if that’s—” Martha from Austin, Dot’s ass. Money hadn’t meant shit in Texas for awhile. These kids were from up north, probably pretty far up north too. Maine or some shit. Delaware.

“Got any cigs?” Dot asked.

“Yes,” Nora said. “We have a couple packs.”

“Great,” Dot held out her hands and two packs were dropped into them. Nora didn’t make eye contact the entire time, her hands fidgeting with anything. She was covered in scabs and scars, picking at her own skin probably.

“Where y’all headed?” Shelby asked.

“None of your business,” Toni said.

“Apparently the San Antonio Zone relocated to Tyler,” Martha said. “We heard some people talking about it last week.”

“Y’all got a radio?” Dot asked.

Martha shook her head.

“If you had one you’d know that that’s what they’re pulling now, telling people to go to Tyler, they shoot you as soon as you step foot in Athens.”

“So where are you guys headed?” Rachel demanded.

“West,” Shelby said. “Radio says they’re ferrying clean folks to Hawaii. It’s an island so.”

“Clean how?” Rachel asked, taking a step forward and lifting her jaw.

Dot sighed.

Shelby’s eyes widened, “Clean as in not infected, I mean.”

“Chill,” Rachel smiled, all thin, “I was kidding.”

“Great,” Dot said. “Not that this hasn’t been fun, but we should be going.”

“Wait,” Martha said. “It’s just, we might as well go west too. And we might as well go west together.”

“Marty,” Toni grabbed her by her uninjured arm, “I wanna talk to you for a moment.”

They got into a whispered argument for a few minutes. Rachel joined and it escalated but Martha came out on top, smiling as she approached them.

“We might as well go together,” she repeated.

Shelby’s smile was just as wide, “We would be alighted to have you.”

The new girls were a nightmare. Rachel and Nora, sisters as Dot would learn, hated one another. And by hated Dot meant, had a complicated relationship of love without trust or mutual respect. Nora didn’t trust Rachel, Rachel didn’t respect Nora, and they were constantly going at one another. Toni had some sorta toxic jealousy thing going on, despising Shelby because she was monopolizing Martha. She also tended to fly into these rages, making her wander off for long periods that had Dot itching to grab her gun and demanding the girl strip to check for bites. Mateo’s dad used to do the same thing, wander off to check his bite.

Shelby also was wholly focused on two things now: Martha, and Toni’s hate. Dot ambled along behind all of ‘em, keeping the sisters from killing each other, Toni’s voice down, and everyone else alive.

The worst part was it took Dot nearly three days before she caught sight of it.

“You have one hand,” Dot glared at Rachel. Rachel slung the pack over her shoulder.

“You’re just noticing that now?” Rachel asked. “I must be getting better with it.”

“The fuck happened?” Dot said.

“My hand got bit,” Rachel shrugged. “Cut it off before it spread, didn’t even know it would work.”

Dot whistled, low and quiet, like they were all used to being.

“I cut it off,” Nora corrected, sullenly.

Rachel rolled her eyes.

“I’m still quicker on the draw than you,” Rachel said, the words clunky in her mouth.

Dot set her jaw, “So y’all are sticking with the story that you’re from Austin?”

“We’re from New York,” Nora said. Rachel glared at her. “What? You think some group would waste three days on four teenage girls?”

“New York?” Dot asked. “Everyone knows it’s safer up north, why the hell are you down here?”

“You hear about Yonkers?” Rachel asked.

Dot shook her head.

“It was the last op the US military set up before they fell apart. We’d made it out by then but we watched it happen on the news. Someone in a group we had still had a phone and the whole thing was live streamed. All of the death. The group were supposed to go to some military bases up in Canada but we wanted a wide open space with plenty of guns.”

“Texas,” Dot said.

Rachel nodded.

“Stupid,” Dot told her. “You probably came for San Antonio too.”

Rachel sighed, “Nobody was gonna survive those Canadian winters without a base, and we weren’t sure we were gonna get one. Rather get bit than freeze.”

“How’d you meet Toni and Martha?” Dot asked.

“Toni and I got into a fistfight over some Takis,” Rachel said.

Dot nodded, “Fuego?”

“Fuego.”

And yeah they were a nightmare but quicker than Dot wanted they became her nightmare. Still though, she dragged Shelby away from Martha and Toni’s sides, and muttered, “we can still go. Ditch if you want. Whenever. We don’t know ‘em.”

Shelby, in high school, woulda been scandalized, muttered some bible passage at her. This Shelby was a little more grown and only looked at her all serious.

“You knew what I was when you picked me up,” she said. “And I knew what Martha was. We’ll face our consequences, I reckon.”

Dot nodded.

Walking all day, everyday, wasn’t easy stuff. Especially since they had to strip as many bodies as they could find. Nora figured it out pretty quick, mumbling something to Rachel who recruited Toni to storm over to Dot.

“You don’t smoke them, but you’re hoarding them,” Rachel said. “Why?”

Dot kept her easy pace. “These things are currency now, the value’ll only go up over time.”

“Currency for what?” Toni asked. “What are you trying to buy?”

“You think a ferry to Hawaii is free?” Dot asked. “I’m saving for all of us.”

“Dottie,” Shelby walked over, Martha sticking by Nora, “What’s up?”

“How much?” Toni asked. “Really, how much?”

“A hundred each,” Dot said, too quickly.

“Try again,” Rachel said.

“Dot,” Shelby got between them, looking at Dot. “Thou shalt not lie, right? Tell ‘em the truth.” Dot glared at her and Shelby turned back around to Rachel. “It’s five hundred each. We got about a hundred now, so no one’s going to Hawaii.”

“What if there aren’t enough?” Toni asked. “Who decides then?”

“We’ll draw straws,” Shelby said.

It was as easy a solution as anything but the tenseness started building up, Rachel and Toni viewing Dot with more suspicion. It’d fade, over time, Dot knew. Or they’d all die.

The worst it got, was actually Shelby’s doing, the easy peace maker of it all. They hadn’t bothered building a fire, despite how cold and exposed it got in Texas at night, but they huddled together between three cars they found abandoned along the highway that they pushed into a triangle. Someone got to the seat cushions of all three first, so there was nothing comfortable to lie their heads on. It was easy for Dot though, the asphalt as soft as anything to her now.

They stayed up later than they should’ve talking. Trading stories about their old life that all of them knew weren’t doing any good. Toni played basketball, was pretty good at it too. Rachel had a skill for swimming she’d never have again. Nora did quiz bowl, surprising no one. Dot talked about metal, fishing with her dad, what types of pills sold for what. Martha was a dancer, and a vegetarian once. It was something that made ‘em all crack up. When humans become man eating beasts, and once upon a time there were jokes online about vegans. Shelby talked about the yearbook, mission trips, Andrew.

But then cause Shelby started it by prattling on about Andrew Toni got it in her head to talk about Regan and Shelby was talking about Leviticus.

The next morning, Rachel quietly pulled Dot aside and told her to take all the cigarettes and head out. That they could make their own way west. Dot didn’t ask for an invitation to go with her.

They split off at the twenty-five, Dot and Shelby heading for the forty, Toni, Martha, Rachel, and Nora heading for the sixty.

Shelby was heartbroken for a few days, apologetic too, and grateful. Dot didn’t let her have any of that, only said, “It’s cause we’re from the same town. We might be the only ones from there left.”

They trudged on.

In Arizona Dot found the love of her life, her soulmate, Fatin Jadmani. In a completely straight way too. Fatin matched her tit for tat, spoke a language Dot hadn’t realized she’d been born knowing. Her girlfriend was an anxious woman named Leah, who Shelby got on with. Dot had worried, upon bringing the two back to camp, that Shelby would chase ‘em away again, but she hadn’t. Just smiled at the two of them, easily offering up a couple granola bars.

Whenever tenseness came about Fatin just laughed, and Leah rolled her eyes. It wasn’t perfect, Dot knew, there was too much hate for that, but it would last ‘em long enough. The four of ‘em just worked in this great lovely way.

Only problem was their destination.

“We barely managed to get out of LA,” Leah mumbled, she hugged her legs, her head leaning on Fatin’s shoulder.

“LA?” Shelby asked. “That’s where we’re headed.”

“What the fuck?” Fatin glared at Dot, “Dorthy I thought you had more sense than that.”

“There’s some military guys ferrying people to Hawaii,” Dot said.

“Where’d you hear that, the radio?” Fatin asked. She sighed at their nods, “They’re broadcasting out to whoever will hear it, but there is no ferry to Hawaii. The entire thing is just selling and shipping as many girls out as possible. We have no idea where though.”

“So when you say you barely made it out,” Dot said.

Fatin’s face was grim.

“We have to warn ‘em,” Shelby said.

“Warn who?” Dot asked.

“Toni and the others! They don’t know!” Shelby stood up. “I’ll plot out the course now and we’ll start out fresh tomorrow. We aren’t leaving ‘em to—to—we aren’t leaving ‘em.” She stormed off and Dot watched her go.

“She wants to go towards LA to help some motherfuckers who kicked you out of their group?” Fatin asked.

“Yeah,” Dot said.

“Are you gonna go with her?” Leah asked.

“I knew what she was when I picked her up,” Dot said.

“What do you wanna do?” Leah asked Fatin.

Fatin pressed her cheek to Leah’s head, “I don’t know if I can risk you.” Fatin looked at Dot, “Are you gonna be stupid?”

“No,” Dot said.

“Then we’ll come,” Fatin sighed. “Leah that okay?” Leah nodded.

Neither of ‘em were as good at offing zed as Shelby and Dot. Fatin was decent at finding stuff though, scoping stuff, and Leah had endurance none of the rest of ‘em could match. She was like a zed sometimes, just kept going, could keep going, until her knees wore down to dust and then she’d crawl, crawl until her fingers wore down to nubs and then she’d inch, inch until something put her out of her misery. It terrified Fatin and Shelby, but Dot couldn’t help being impressed.

So Dot ambled after Shelby toward Bethlehem on the forty but they were gonna leap back on the interstate and hopefully head ‘em off. Hopefully Martha, Toni, Rachel, and Nora’d be alive, and they’d find ‘em. And if they didn’t find ‘em, hopefully they’d be dead. And Shelby stopped sleeping about a day or two into trek. Would just keep staring at the maps and keeping watch, and taking inventory and thumbing around her necklace.

When Dot woke up on the third day of their walk, Shelby’s hair was much shorter and Fatin looked real scared. Shelby kept walking and walking and, in a fit of rage that matched Toni’s, launched her necklace off the highway. She looked like she regretted it after but they had no choice but to keep going.

They passed an arm and it looked like Rachel’s.

Shelby walked faster. Leah had that glint in her eye. Fatin took Dot’s hand and looked very very scared.

After two more days Shelby said fuck it, and found a car with some gas in it and told 'em to get in.

Dot stood in front, “Shelby,” Shelby glared at her, “This’ll attract every body in the fucking country. The sound, the smell, I’m not just talking about the dead ones neither.”

Shelby swallowed hard, “You gonna stay behind then?”

“Shelby,” Dot said. “If you leave me here I’ll get caught up in the hoard. That what you want?”

“Get in the damn car, Dottie!” Shelby said.

“If we get to ‘em in time, but there’s a fucking hoard following us, we won’t have anywhere to go but on,” Dot said. “Fucking think!”

“I am thinking,” Shelby spat back. She shoved Dot, “I’m thinking about Toni, and Martha walking from Minnesota to Texas only to die in California. I’m thinking about Nora and Rachel watching Yonkers fall and then getting shipped off to who knows where. That’s what I’m thinking.”

“Shelby we can make it,” Leah said.

“No we can’t!” Shelby said. “I’ve done the math, I keep looking at these maps, there’s no way we’ll make it in time without a mode of transportation. No car and they die.”

“Then what the fuck are we going there?” Dot asked. “If it’s too late—”

“It is not too late!” Shelby said, her throat was all closed and choked sounding. “I can save ‘em! Jesus fuckin Christ we have to help ‘em!”

“Shelby,” Dot said, she put a hand on her shoulder. “We can’t take a car, and we can’t make it by foot,” Shelby’s face crumpled. “They’re gone, alright? We should be planning our next move.”

“No,” Leah said. She shook her head, “We have to help them.”

“You don’t even know ‘em,” Dot said.

“I’m not letting four innocent girls go through what I nearly went through,” Leah said.

“I’m with Leah,” Fatin said. “We’ll take the car and play it by ear.”

“Play the-hoard-that-will-start-coming-after-us-the-second-we-turn-on-the-engine by ear?” Dot asked.

“Let’s vote,” Shelby said. “All in favor of going?”

Fatin, Leah, and Shelby all raised their hands.

“C’mon,” Dot begged. She looked at Fatin, “You told me not to be stupid!”

“So don’t be stupid,” Fatin said. “Get in the car.”

Dot sighed, wanted to punch something, wanted to cry, was too tired to do either, got in the car.

The car attracted so many fucking zed, they wouldn’t be able to stop, and they had to hope there was enough in the fucking tank to get them to wherever the four were. Dot watched the dead bodies creep closer, at their slow hobbling, relentless pace. Fatin drove, Shelby used her pike to spear any who got too close, Dot watched the maps and steadily got herself into a panic.

They were gonna die trying to save the asses of some girls they spent a couple days with.

This was not what Shelby was when Dot picked her up, this was not what she was. Shelby had gone behind Dot’s back and fucking grown as a person, hadn’t she? How the fuck was Dot gonna get away from her? She’d have to pack Fatin in a suitcase and then Leah too and that would mean entirely abandoning Shelby to be on her lonesome oh god.

Dot was stuck, wasn’t she.

As they kept driving Shelby had to keep spearing zed. It started off as one or two, but as the hours wore on they were leaning on five, six, a steady growing mass ambling behind ‘em.

If that had really been Rachel’s arm, they were probably dead. All of ‘em. Or maybe in the mass behind ‘em. And if they weren’t, they’d hear the car coming and head for the hills, assuming it meant a hoard was close behind. Which it was.

This was such a fucking terrible idea.

“So what, we just wait for a sign to say welcome to LA and then give up? We won’t find ‘em like this,” Dot said.

“Shut up!” Shelby said, she speared another.

“At least check you ain’t offing one of ours,” Dot said. “They could all be zed, for all we know.”

“I said shut up,” Shelby turned to glare at her and a zed slammed against the door. She speared it and Dot’s mouth clamped shut. “We just gotta keep going,” she said. “We’ll be fine, we just gotta keep moving.”

“You’re crazy,” Dot said.

Shelby didn’t have anything to say to that.

It was worse at nightfall, with visibility down, and they just had to keep going, to hope their car wasn’t stripped when they went over the bumps of mutilated corpses still hungry for a last meal.

“We’re almost to LA,” Shelby said. “We got nearly a hundred cigs, we might be able to bribe someone if they jump us.”

Leah snorted.

They were driving through an empty enough part of Nevada though, less corpses hurling themselves off the road and towards them. Still the ever growing mass behind ‘em now, maybe fifty, seventy five, but about twenty out.

“I gotta piss,” Dot said.

“Hurry,” Fatin said.

Dot stumbled out, no one noticing her grabbing her pack. The zed would follow the car, she’d make a clean break. She’d survive.

She was only seven minutes south, judging by the north star Shelby taught her to find when someone’s hand grabbed her. She pulled out her hand gun, jamming it into the head and flicking the safety off.

“Dot! Jesus Christ!”

The girl was wide-eyed, tan, hollowed out, empty and desperate. Reminded her of the empty pill bottles around her house after her dad died.

“Toni?”

Toni nodded, “Why are you here? Fuck that I don’t give a shit, you got water?” Dot handed it to her and Toni downed it. “The other’s are close, c’mon.” She stumbled as she got up, clearly dizzy, and Dot grabbed her forearm.

“We’ve been looking everywhere for you guys,” Dot said.

“Don’t tell me it’s you in the fucking car,” Toni said. “We’ve been running from that thing for ages.”

“I fucking told Shelby,” Dot said.

“Shelby?” Toni asked, she was almost too exhausted to sound disgusted, but she managed it.

“Listen, LA isn’t safe, we found out. They’re not taking kids to Hawaii, they’re taking them.”

Toni went pale, “Fuck.” She even sounded choked now. “Shelby’s having a fucking aneurysm worrying about you so I don’t even think she’s that fucking homophobic. I’ll get everyone back to the car, you tell ‘em I’m coming.”

Toni nodded, stumbling towards the street and Dot walked back to the direction Toni pointed to before she left. Rachel, Nora, and Martha were all in various points of disarray. Exhausted, dehydrated, starving, aching and bleeding. Dot had to half carry, half drag Nora with Martha and Rachel had to get a stick to lean on as they stumbled toward the street.

“We got like ten minutes,” Fatin said. “People are gonna have to double buckle, and before anyone else makes a decision, we’re going north.”

Dot strapped everyone in and found herself sitting next to Shelby who met her eyes in a hundred yard stare.

“You took your pack.”

“Yeah.”

“But you came back.”

“Yeah.”

“Fine.”

They started on again. Dot saw Toni keep sneaking glances at Shelby and Shelby kept sneaking ‘em back.

They weren’t far from Mt. Tobin when the two finally stopped dancing around each other.

Dot convinced everyone to ditch the car near LA, walking as quickly as they could once they did, knowing it’d take awhile to ditch the hoard too. Dot watched Toni talk to Shelby in low tones, Shelby full of apologies and panics and Toni keeping her cool longer than Dot had ever seen it.

Martha took to Fatin quickly, everyone did, and Nora and Leah spent long hours walking beside each other mumbling about books or something. Not anything Dot gave two shits about.

Rachel ambled along with Dot most of the time. Whenever Fatin and Leah were all over each other and Dot didn’t feel like third wheeling. Rachel was always listening to the radio and as time passed it became clear that the two of them were the most capable of keeping everyone alive. And not in a more knowledgable way. Because Nora knew what plants were edible, and Shelby was a better shot. Or in an emotional way, because Fatin and Martha handled that. But in a planning sorta way. Because Dot knew how to get them to point B, while Rachel was working on point E.

“We should go to Washington,” Rachel muttered on one of the late nights they spent keeping watch while they poured over maps. “We might be able to find a boat to Victoria.”

“Victoria?” Rachel pointed her out.

“It’s a Canadian island. Canada lasted a little longer than we did, Victoria might not be in such a bad way.”

“Less guns in Canada,” Dot said. “And there might not be a boat that’ll take us there. Plus, we don’t know the currency.”

“We’re eight teenage girls,” Rachel pointed out. “We stick around so close to Cali, we’re asking for trouble. We need to put an ocean between us and whatever the fuck they’re doing there.”

Dot sighed. So they’d go to Washington.

On the way they’d probably run into another group who’d tell them Washington was overrun but there was something decent in Wisconsin. Half way to Wisconsin someone would tell ‘em their information was bad and they need to get south where there were guns and space. They’d almost be in Georgia when someone would tell ‘em there was some real government up in New York again.

They’d follow pipe dream to pipe dream to pipe dream. They’d probably die young.

Toni curled around Shelby, holding Martha’s hand. Fatin and Leah held on for dear life. Rachel didn’t take her eyes off Nora. Dot watched them all.

Yeah they’d probably die young. Better than dying alone.

#gus writes #the wilds #the wilds fanfic #goodfoe fanfic #shoni #leatin fanfic #leatin #dot campbell #leah rilke #fatin jadmani #shelby goodkind #toni shalifoe #rachel reid #nora reid #martha blackburn #the unsinkable 8 #the unsinkable eight

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echo-three-one · 3 years

Text

Chapter 41

THE ROAD SO FAR

One step closer to the end.

FIVE Seconds

John 'Soap' MacTavish

Task Force 141 Base - Infirmary

We overcame Ultranationalists, chopper crashes, danger close with gunships but a goddamn dog is what'll get me into an infirmary? Rabies, ridiculous. What a waste of time.

John wrote down his anger in his black journal. It housed all his thoughts ever since being recruited at the Task Force regarding mission briefings, regrets and training schedules. It was his outlet on all the things going on around the world.

He noticed that Captain Price also slept by the other bed, his eyes looked tired from staying up late, he never gave up on Volt that he tired himself out.

He winced at the pain of the bruise the rotten dog gave him. He was never really a fan of them as most dogs tend to chase him wherever he went. Yesterday was another proof. Luckily, France seemed to catch up on his body language, how he didn't want anyone to know that a dog was the reason he's in the infirmary. The way she knew it without telling her was starting to convince the Scotsman that he got himself a keeper. Someone who understands.

Speaking of which, the same gorgeous blonde girl entered the infirmary, greeting Soap with a very genuine smile of relief.

"Hi." She smiled quietly as Price was still asleep.

"Aye. Hello there." He greeted, his voice was low and rough as he attempted to catch the lady off guard. She may look tough wearing her 141 training uniform, but Soap knows how to make her lose her composure.

"How's the wound?" She asked, her face was already turning red as she approached him. She looked so cute right now, Soap won't mind kissing her amidst the Captain being there along with some CCTVs.

"Getting better. Hopefully enough to join the fight. How about you?" he replied, smiling at the female soldier. The general mood of the room quickly shifted and the two of them were pretty aware about it.

"I'm fine. I'm just here to thank you for saving me back then. But you didn't have to… I deserved that bite for not being careful." She muttered.

Soap sighed.

"Eh, you know full well that I care for you, France. For once let me be the hero." He chuckled and France laughed.

"You already know that you are my hero, dummy." She winked as she started to leave.

"I gotta go. It's my turn to clean up the comms. Wish you'd help me though, Hero." she teased as she left the room, Soap was left staring at her beautiful figure exit the room.

"You sure got yourself a tough lass there, lad." Price grumbled as he woke up, commenting on the two.

"Aye. She's definitely a keeper. I just hope I don't mess up. Because I think she's the one." Soap finally admitted, to Price of all people. The captain just chuckled.

"Yeah. My word of advice. Go with what your heart and mind says." He said with full sincerity, as if he didn't want Soap to regret everything. There was flavor in his words that made Soap wonder if such advice came from experience. Though he did hear rumors that he and Laswell had some sort of history, and he got that from France.

"Aye, Captain… Will do." Soap nodded and Price got up.

"I'm giving Volt a final visit." He grumbled and went off, leaving Soap alone in his thoughts once again.

The next day, Soap was cleared from the infirmary and was immediately tasked on the mission. Last night, Nero started his assault on the capital and thousands of rangers were struggling to keep them off the country. With Volt finally given up, he relayed information regarding one of Nero's allies.

They were going to Havana, the home base of the mind manipulation and the command center of Nero's forces. How it managed to stay hidden, nobody knows but the team was eager to find out soon. Especially that another nuke is ready for launch.

Abandoned Building, Cuba, Havana

Soap could hear France hum the song Havana quietly as she crossed her arms just before the plane started. She was nervous and Soap knew that so he tried to hold her hand in secrecy, showing him a face that assured her that everything will be alright.

In this mission, time was of the essence so stealth wasn't an option. They were headed to the base guns blazing, all in hopes to disable the second nuke launch.

The helo flew dangerously low as metal clanged on it's base as soon as enemies fired at it. It was a risky move but the squad needed to drop by the rooftops to get a clear vantage point.

Soap immediately seeked for cover by the edge of the rooftop, eyeing the door that led to the lower floors where the command center should be.

"We'll hold them off! You go!" Alex yelled as Soap, Price, Roach and France breached the door, descending to the second floor of the building.

The place was abandoned and very open, enemies' footsteps echoed across the halls, making the team aware of their positions.

"Soap, focus on getting to the control room. We'll take care of them. France, cover his six. Roach and I will make a grand distraction." Price said, popping a grenade on the main hall and Roach assisted him, drawing all the attention towards them.

"Alex, when you're done sweeping up the yard, I need your team down here asap." Price muttered over comms.

"Roger that." he replied.

"Looks like it's you and me against the clock now." Soap managed to chuckle at their situation. France just chuckled and cleared the location so Soap could advance. This was her forte. Stealth and close quarters.

"You're good to go, John." She said as she took the stairs down. Soap cautiously followed as he heard gunshots from France's location.

"Two tangos down." She declared, clearing the staircase to the basement.

"Multiple tangos in the basement. Looks like we're in the right place." France nodded and Soap followed, pulling the pin of a grenade and tossing it to the narrow hallway.

"GRANADA!!" One yelled and an explosion followed, signaling the couple to press on the narrow hallway while they're dazed.

They shot down the enemies until more emerged from behind, trapping the two of them.

"Shite! At this rate we'll never push forward. We're pinned!" Soap called for help.

"Someone's escaping! Reinforcements are arriving!" Alex warned as the team was now overwhelmed with hostiles. Time was running out.

"John! Watch my six and I'll clear a path for you." France said and left without letting him reply. This worried Soap but he had to trust her and so he covered her six. Shooting at enemies dumb enough to dive on to the narrow hallway. He did his best to retaliate by firing back and tossing any grenades back to its source.

It felt like the longest two minutes of his life. France fought her way to the command center and him, defending the entrance while his ammo slowly ran out. Then after what seemed like forever, he heard her go signal.

Soap ran as fast as he could, and just before he lost sight of the entrance, he saw Price immediately follow him. They did it. They cleared the entrance.

He fished out his journal for the cryllic translator, decoding every letter just so he could stop the launch. They only had five seconds left.

Soap furiously typed the code Volt gave them and pressed enter as soon as it's done. The launch didn't stop. Soap figured that they were too late, but Price's face never looked worried.

"Captain. The launch didn't stop! What are we going to do?" France said, worried.

"It's all according to plan." He muttered as he signaled his head to head back to the rooftop.

"Let's burn this place down." He added and they all ran back to the rooftops for exfil.

"Dropping the skyhook now! Latch yourselves in!" Eagle Two Four yelled as the thick rope dropped from the sky, Soap quickly latched himself in and looked behind him. France was a few meters away from the final hook as a stray bullet grazed her thigh.

"France! Hang on!" Soap quickly detached himself almost automatically, without thinking. The rest of the team were already being hoisted up when they noticed the two members still on the rooftops.

Soap's body felt the rush as he quickly carried her up and held her tight, running toward the last hook and quickly attaching himself in, all while holding her tight in his arms.

"Why didn't you call out to me? You know I'm going to save you whatever it takes." he whispered as he felt France already in tears. If it wasn't for him always checking out on her, she would've been left alone in that abandoned building.

"Is she going to be fine?" The worried Scotsman asked the nurse. His voice was almost loud enough to disturb everyone else.

"She got hit twice. One on the chest and one on the thigh. They're both minor but she just passed out from the panic and exhaustion. We found this on her chest. The thing practically saved her life." The nurse handed over his journal. Soap's eyes widened at the hole that pierced through the whole book. He must've left it when he typed the abort codes and she must've grabbed it from there.

"The bullet barely pierced through her armor thanks to that book." She said as Soap looked up and silently thanked that she was safe. He quickly flipped through the pages until he found the page where he drew her. The bullet hole on the page was where her heart was. It was funny because it was the other way around. That woman was the one that fired a bullet straight to his heart. And he wasn't a big fan of metaphors at this rate.

"So is she okay?" Roach quickly ran to Soap's side, a worried look on his face. Alex and Price were behind him.

"The journal saved her." He said, raising the pierced black book as proof.

"She's lucky enough you got her on time. I couldn't think of any other way she could be saved from there." Price commented as she looked at her through the glass.

"She's a tough lad. But sometimes she needs to understand that she isn't alone." Price added and Alex nodded.

"She'll wake up soon." Alex tapped Soap's shoulder and he nodded, as they left the infirmary for another briefing.

On the way to the briefing room, they caught up with Ghost and Alexandra bringing an unknown man to the interrogation area, which prompted the team to follow.

Inside the interrogation room's observation area, the team sat while Price and Jack talked to the man.

"Nice to see ya, Jack. Thought Nero got rid of you." He smugly said with a wide annoying grin on his mouth.

"Who is this prick, anyway?!" Roach hissed.

"That's Gabriel Lannister. CIA's Research and Development Head." Alex said nonchalantly, Soap could see the disbelief in his eyes. There was more than just one mole in his previous department.

"He was the one in charge with the mass manipulation of the missing persons cases." Ryder added.

"While you lot launched the nuke, he went off running with four convoys of protection. Luckily we were able to intercept them by the bridge." Ghost informed.

"What about the nuke?" Soap asked, completely forgetting about it. It was his responsibility, as he typed the whole command on it.

"Blasted at Nero's fleet not too far from the White House. If you were five seconds later, the war would've ended differently." Ryder supplied the information.

"And the capital?" Roach asked.

"Mostly damaged, but it will recover. Turns out Nero did really burn the place down." Ghost answered.

"What about Nero?" Alex asked, eyes not leaving the whole interrogation.

"No one knows where he is. We were hoping this guy would give information about him." Ryder pointed to Gabriel, who was having a fun time at the interrogation.

The tension inside the room was different. Each person had their own little realizations and this pushed them to end the war as soon as possible.

Soap immediately exited the area and went back to the infirmary.

"Hey." He was greeted by France, who was already up.

"How are you holding up?" He asked, his tone more concerned than ever.

"Well, It doesn't hurt right now but… I'm… I almost died out there, John… What if I died?" Her voice croaked and tears started falling from her eyes. John quickly approached her and hugged her gently close to his chest.

"Don't say that… What's important is you're alive… I got you and you're safe…" He whispered.

"Thank you." She croaked. John just rubbed her back assuring her everything will be alright.

"No. Thank you. You changed me, France. You made me realize a lot of things. I know that this isn't the most perfect place right now, but… Will you be my girlfriend? Because I can't help thinking about how every single day of my life since I met you, I can't stop thinking about you. Your smile, your face, the things you say, the way you hide what you really feel. I want all of those and after that last mission, I realized that I shouldn't have left you waiting. There was no better time than as soon as possible." He said, offering his notebook as replacement for flowers.

France nodded with tears in her eyes, accepting the journal with confusion.

"Turn it on the last page." Soap said as she did it, showing a sketch of her and him together happily smiling. She wore the clothes she wore when they were out together in that coffee shop.

"This is beautiful." She said, tracing a finger on the paper.

"I love you, John MacTavish." She said as she leaned in for a kiss, not letting him reply.

Next Chapter : FOUR Weeks of Silence

Notification Squad my Beloved

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