#mia hates the weather

[miafi]

.

[goldustwomun]

take a chance on me (b.b.)

pairing: bradley ‘rooster’ bradshaw x ex! mother! reader

summary: your daughter stumbles upon a photo of you and a mysterious man, immediately noticing the similarities between him and her. nothing good can come from revisiting the past, especially one you’d hoped to avoid because you’d never gotten the courage to tell him, the man from the photo, that he’s a father.

warnings: major rip-off of the mamma mia! plot but this was purely for enjoyment so xxx; angst angst angst; swearing; allusions to sex; a lot of exposition so sorry ‘bout that 

wc: 9.2k+

note: had so much fun messing around with this request (thank you by the way!!). listening to the mamma mia! soundtrack the whole time and now yearning for an island romance<3 

ps. reader’s age is slightly hinted to being over 30 but that’s only if you do the math and i left the daughter’s age ambiguous (she’s a teen, over sixteen at least); also, daughter’s name is poppy!

pps. i probably won’t be writing a second part to this because i love the ambiguous ending; let your imagination run free lovelies :))

more of my work x

The summer heat was thick and just about everywhere, like sticky honey you can’t wipe clean off your fingers after spreading it onto a piece of too-burnt toast. 

You were on the verge of giving up, trekking back home and collapsing onto the sofa with a stand-up fan aimed at your sweat-slick face. 

Maybe the dungarees hadn’t been your best idea when it came to thirty-degree weather, but the utility of them, their pockets filled to the brim with spare screws, a cylinder-shaped glue for the hot glue gun you’d lost in your storage room a week back, a few hair ties for when the one currently holding yours up snapped for the third time that day.

Practicality over comfort, as was your motto for the past over-a-decade of your life. As it had been, since you’d found yourself pregnant after a one-night-stand (turned many, many night-stand) you’d yet to shake yourself free of).

You were never one to ask for help, and when it came to raising your child, things hadn’t changed. No matter how desperate you were, working two jobs on an island you didn’t speak the language of, an infant perched on your hip, whaling in your ears whilst you simultaneously cleaned the rooms of the little bed-and-breakfast you’d landed a job at.

When you weren’t taking care of your kid or working, you were thinking about one of those two things, or both. 

And it wasn’t like you hated it entirely; she was the best thing to ever happen to you, could have arrived at a more opportune time, but she was your best friend if you’d ever had one. So saying she was a mistake or something you regretted– it was an unfathomable thought that had only crossed your mind once, sat in the doctor’s waiting room, pregnancy test wrapped in toilet paper, clutched tight in your trembling hands. 

“Ma’!” she yelled now, your little Poppy with her chocolate-brown curls, sun-kissed skin from all the time spent at the beach. Remarkably like her Father, but you’d never tell her that. 

“I’m here, I’m here!” you answered in a similar, exasperated fashion, bent over a crack in the intricately tiled mosaics that covered the floor of the plaza. 

You still worked at that bed-and-breakfast, though now it was yours and had expanded to a vast number of the buildings at the centre of the island. Everyone helped out, whether out of kindness or a small fee, and you were grateful for the community, the small army, you had behind you, catching you every time you stumbled (far too often than you’d ever admit).

“Need help?�� Poppy asked, amused, hands perched over her white-tiered skirt clad hips, looking like the stubborn replica of her mother, of you. Her head just about obscured the sun from beating down on you anymore than it already was, framing her with a halo of gold that tinted the edges of her hair. 

“I’m alright, love,” you assured, heaving yourself straight with a pained groan. Poppy crowded you, arms going around your shoulders to help you up. “Why don’t you go help Esme. She’s in the storage room, looking for the hot glue gun.”

“Still haven’t found that thing?” 

“No, I– fuck. Everything disappears around here. Swear we’ve got a ghost or something, the only logical explanation.” Poppy nodded along, taking your finger-pointing at the supernatural with a deathly seriousness.

“Makes sense if you ask me, ghost with a hankering for rusty tools,” she agreed, voice solemn. “Aaaand you’re sure I can’t help you here?” she asked again, murky brown eyes baring right into your soul. You brushed her off, nudging her in the direction of the sweet old lady, Esme, with her wonky English accent and pastries to die for. 

“If you see anything you like, put it to the side!” you called after her retreating figure, shaking your head as she chucked a ‘thumbs up’ behind her back. 

Not only was she the spitting image of her Father, or rather, the man who got you pregnant as you called him in your head, but she walked and talked with that same air of breezy confidence that got him into your pants in the first place. 

You’d hoped a few more of your mannerisms (and none of your risky mistakes) would have brushed off on her as she grew up, but other than your resolute anger and little patience, she was nothing like you. 

Always headstrong, sometimes teetering on the precipice of arrogance, but she usually relented and bugged you with her incessant chatter until you forgave her. 

Would stare up at you, all watery and doe-eyed, hair curling around her chubby cheeks still splotchy from her tantrum, near ready for tears again until you were shushing her with a carrot stick coated in hummus (her favourite but you worried she’d turn into a chickpea or something close to it). 

Even if she was part-chickpea, you’d love her forever. 

Named her Poppy after the bunches of wild, scarlet-red flowers you’d seen breaking through the stones of the Acropolis when you were pregnant and needed a break from the island. Your Poppy was a lot like that; able to push past even the most inconceivable of hardships, past whatever unmovable stone that might be surrounding her, threatening to cage her in, until she was illuminating the world around her. Painting it a little brighter for everyone to enjoy.

Your very own field of flowers. 

Poppy could admit that even with having grown up on the island, she could never get used to the heat or the muggy feeling of her clothes sticking to her like a second layer of skin. But she persisted, finding Esme with a cloth tied around her head as a make-shift hat in the barn they used for storage.

It was… falling to pieces, and still, that was an understatement. 

The blue doors looked more grey than anything ocean-like, the junk crammed inside, stacks on stacks of unlabelled cardboard boxes she worried had a family of something disgusting in at least one of them. The ceiling had caved-in in places, allowing beams of sunlight to penetrate through, and acting as a door for the birds to fly in and build their nests.

So yes, the barn was falling to pieces, the entire hotel was, actually.  But what worried her the most was that her Mother seemed close to the same fate despite being so young, so she’d persist where she had to.

“Little girl, come help me with this box would you!” Esme ordered from somewhere within the labyrinth of boxes. Poppy picked her way through, using the groans Esme exerted as a homing-beacon and eventually bumping into the older woman. She was caked in dust and dirt, but didn’t seem to care all that much if the grin on her face was any hint of her mood.

Esme was rather grumpy a lot of the time, so a smile like that, one that screamed mischief, and her eyes beaming with that all-knowing look she got sometimes after visiting the psychic on the other side of the island… Well, something told her this couldn’t be good.

“What’s in this particular box, May?” Poppy questioned, huffing as she pushed it onto the ground.

“You’ll see in a moment–” Esme tssked at her impatience, patting her back so Poppy would move into the light so they could see its contents more clearly. When it was in place, Poppy looked-up at her from her crouched position on the floor expectantly, still unsure of where this was headed. 

“Don’t give me such a dumb look, little girl, open it!” she scolded, frowning so deeply Poppy worried her mouth would be stuck that way permanently. 

Sometimes she thought it already was. “Okay- Okay– Stop calling me that,” she added under her breath, pulling back the hole-ridden flaps and immediately rummaging through, wondering what all the fuss was about.

“This just looks like a bunch of old junk, May. I don’t think the glue-gun is in here.” 

“Keep looking,” she insisted, peering over her shoulder. It was only a few minutes later that her hand came down on Poppy’s shoulder, gripping tight enough that Poppy stopped shuffling things around, hand stuck on a tattered journal she’d never seen before. “That one– take that out.” 

“This?” Poppy asked inquisitively, lifting it from the box and standing up so Esme could see. 

“Yes, this,” she nodded with a relieved sigh, flipping open the first page. Inside, Poppy admired the elegant script, eyes widening at the name inscribed on the first page. 

“This was Ma’s?” 

Esme held it out to her, confirming her wild thoughts, doing little to halt the curiosity currently poking at her mind. “This was your Mother’s when I first met her. Maybe… younger than you, or the same age, I’m not sure. But she was beautiful, and hardworking, and very, very pregnant.” 

A forced laugh stumbled past her lips, disbelieving as she carefully turned to the next page. A stray photo, not stuck down like the others, flew out of the bottom. Poppy scrambled to pick it up, not wanting it to get lost amongst the piles of stuff they desperately needed to sort out.

In it was her Mother, looking radiant with her head tilted back in laughter, flowers in her hair, an arm around her waist that belonged to an unfamiliar man. “And– this guy, who’s he?” Poppy’s heart was hammering now, knowing the answer before Esme could even respond.

He had her curls, unruly and deep brown. And something about him, the fluidity in his shoulders, the ease with which he carried himself, the look on your face. It couldn’t be…

“I’m not sure. I never knew his name but he was following your Mother around that summer, like a lost puppy. Very cute,” she murmured appreciatively, gaze fixated on the photo in your hand. 

Poppy’s heart sank, hating the lack of answers, the not-knowing. She needed to know, could feel the fire stoked in the pit of her belly that would keep her up until she found out more, more, more. 

You wouldn’t say anything. You were tightlipped about the ingredients in your famous pasta sauce, so anything about Poppy’s potential Father would be a no-go, a dead end she couldn’t get herself stuck in and clue you in on her snooping.

“What happened to him– the puppy man?” Poppy did nothing to hide her curiosity, knowing deep down that Esme had lured her to this box for a reason. 

Everyone could see how you were wearing away, working yourself to the bone everyday for a dream that seemed just about unreachable. You needed someone, anyone, to help you, and Poppy wouldn’t always be there to do just that. 

She knew you didn’t need a man, bursting into your life and fixing your problems. It’d have you biting at his heels until he was running off into the sunset. But a partner– a companion, maybe, who could support you when the job was brutal and rough and you were nearing a breakdown like no other– you deserved, at the very least, that.

Poppy would make sure of it. It didn’t take long for her to do the calculations, nine months minus her birthday and she had an approximate date to look for. She thumbed through the journal, marking the pages that mentioned any indication of when you’d written in it, and shoved it into the back pocket of your denim shorts to search through later.

She’d find him if it was the last thing she’d ever do. 

Hopefully, it wouldn’t be, but she needed to see you smiling like you had in that picture. And Poppy had an inkling, a feeling, a certainty like no other, that the answer to all of your problems, maybe her’s as well, would be found with the man with the funny moustache and wicked grin. 

The internet was a powerful machine, and one, Poppy thought decidedly, she’d be forever grateful for. It didn’t take long to hunt down the mystery man from the photo. She smiled, somewhat maniacally, really, at the screen as she read through the email she received from the United States Navy. 

She’d gotten the idea after noticing the dog-tag around his neck, nestled against his bare chest. It was hard to see at first, what with the obnoxious printed shirts he wore in every photo, but Poppy was nothing if not thorough, meticulous, error-free. 

Anyway, it wasn’t like the Navy had actually responded to her far-fetched cries for help, but she did find a help-centre that was rather effective in hunting down men who had gotten someone or the other pregnant while deployed internationally. 

Poppy wondered how often this kind-of thing happened that they needed a whole department for it, suddenly trying to burn the image in her mind of a few more miniature him-with-the-moustache-s walking around the Earth. 

But it couldn’t be, not with the way he had stared at you in that photo. And you’d kept it, all these years, so it had to have meant something. 

Bradley Bradshaw. She scoffed, what a dumb name. And his callsign? Somehow worse– Rooster. She hoped eternally her maybe-Father wasn’t a proper moron now, and could still live upto the photos she had of him (of which she found many more hidden between pages in your journal). 

He was quite attractive, almost two decades earlier. And you– well, even today, you were ethereal in Poppy’s eyes. Carefree and determined. 

“Pops– hun, I’m going down to the post office, need anything mailed?” you asked from the other side of her bedroom door. 

“Yeah! One sec,” she replied, frantically shoving all of the post-it notes and pictures back into a drawer in her desk, doing one last scan of her room to make sure she hadn’t left anything lying around before snatching up the letter– to Rooster– from beside her laptop. 

Poppy opened the door to see you resting against the door frame, flipping through the letters (bills, probably) you had clutched in your hand. You held out your hand, waiting for her to drop it in your palm, but she quickly yelled out, “No!” which had you looking up from the dreaded envelopes with a raised brow. 

“No…?” you asked, confused at her unusual outburst. “So you don’t have any mail?”

“No,” she repeated, dumbly, mouth forming words that never made it out. “No– I have a letter, but I’ll come with you. Drop it off myself,” she explained eventually, nodding along as if she was trying to convince herself.

You relented, sending another curious look towards your daughter but stomping down the stairs, creaks following, to the car. “I’m leaving now so put your shoes on!” you sang. 

She sighed out of relief, shoving her feet into her trainers and barreling past you into the front seat of your Jeep. “God, Poppy– what’s gotten into you? Acting like a five-year old, I swear,” you grumbled, irritated and lethargic enough to have her wincing with guilt. 

This was a good thing, right? Sure, you’d be angry– scratch that, furious, murderous, down-right irate, when you found out, but you’d understand. She was doing this for you. 

“Sorry,” she appeased, kicking her feet onto the dashboard that earned her another withering glare from you. It did little to dissuade her as she continued talking. “Just giddy, that’s all.”

“Giddy? About a letter?” Poppy hummed in agreement, watching the ocean and mountain-side trees rush by, painting an array of abstract strokes across her vision. “Is it for a boy?” you asked, teasingly, side-eyeing her before returning to concentrating on the winding road ahead. 

“Mmm, funnily enough, yeah,” she giggled, loving how you were entirely clueless. 

“Interesting,” you murmured, then reaching across the console to squeeze your daughter’s bare knee. “Be careful, yeah?” 

Poppy’s eyes flashed, chest-clenching painfully as she worried her lip between her teeth. Her hand moved to rest across yours. You’d never opposed her love-life, of her having one, but Poppy had always wondered why your own dating history was so sparse, time spent, instead, taking care of her or, later on, the hotel. 

“Always, Ma’, you know that,” she made sure with a tight grin, praying you missed how it didn’t reach her eyes.

This was a good thing, she reminded herself. This was for you. 

Poppy was jumpier than usual, like a skittish cat, you observed silently. Slamming doors and screens shut when you walked by. You didn’t necessarily care what she was up to until she was rambling off, a mile a minute, going on about an excuse you hadn’t asked for.

You were a good mother, one that didn’t pry or push when you wanted the gossip and highlights of your kid’s life. Had built a relationship, a friendship, even, with your daughter where she voluntarily shared the information without you ever needing to bat an eyelash. 

So you tried not to worry, to let the mishaps distract you from the seemingly never-ending list of work you had tugging your attention elsewhere. 

But that was another thing about being a mother; worrying was second nature, a muscle that unknowingly worked itself sore whenever your daughter was out of your sight. 

She’d go off during the day, by the beach with her friends, at the dock helping with shipments or sailing into the late afternoon, returning only when the sun was sinking into the horizon and the sky was all shades of purple, pink, a burning orange. 

She’d give you a soft, routine kiss on your cheek as you sat on the dinner table, skin sticking to the plastic cover you’d laid on the surface to protect the wood. Spew details of her day, who said what, who kissed who– though always failing to mention the letter from a month ago, the unknown boy she was secretly buzzing about was still unknown. 

You hadn’t forgotten the letter, not recognising the address, some small town in America with little significance to you. 

Poppy sat across from you now, talking around a mouthful of the sandwich you’d made the both of you with the leftover baguette from the bakery across the street, one that hadn’t sold that day so was priced cheap.

“--and then, you’ll never guess, but Dom was changing on the boat and basically flashed everyone. Tony and Riley included. I felt so bad, almost pushed the boys overboard and she was so red for someone who, basically, never got embarrassed.”

You snorted, stopping mid-bite. “Just because someone doesn’t make their emotions obvious doesn’t mean they don’t feel them. And I hope they’ll apologise to her.” 

“Oh, of course, of course,” she agreed enthusiastically, eyes wide as if digesting every single one of your words. “And they did right after I threatened them. It wasn’t awkward for long, they’re not a bad bunch or anything. It was an accident, Dom said so herself.”

“That’s good,” was all you answered, now distracted by a letter in your hand you’d pulled from the pile as Poppy talked. She was watching you intently, burning a hole through the paper, and, being her Mother, you already knew she was dying to know who it was from.

“It’s for you,” you said eventually, putting her out of her momentary misery as she squealed and snatched it from your hand. You watched discreetly, touched by the sight of her mouthing the words as she read the letter. “Is it from that American boy of yours?” 

“American?– what– I mean, how do you– how do you know he’s American?” she stuttered messily, mouth agape and ready to argue.

You reflexively held up your hands in surrender. “Hey, love– I just saw the sender’s address, that’s all,” you assured. 

She collapsed back into her seat, mumbling an apology for getting all worked up.

It was now or never, you decided, finally sick of the anxiety coursing through your veins these past few weeks. 

“Poppy, you’re… alright, right?” you asked, struggling to find the right words and sighing, forehead resting against your palm while the other crossed the table, holding your daughter’s hand, grip light and featherlike, in comfort. 

“I mean– you’d tell me if you were in any trouble, or anything. I wouldn’t judge or–”

“Ma!” she scolded, sounding appalled by your line of questioning and roughly pulling her hand out of your grasp.

“Don’t ‘Ma’ me, Pops. You’ve been going mental for weeks now! I’m allowed to fret, I’m your Mother!” you retorted, standing up abruptly, chair screeching against the linoleum tiles as you dropped the plates into the sink. 

“It’s nothing, I swear–”

“Is it drugs?” you asked suddenly, turning around to face her. 

She looked completely aghast, arms crossed against her chest defensively and, what was likely subconsciously, pouting at you. “If it’s drugs, Pops, we can get help. I’ve got money saved up and I know a decent doctor on the mainland. I’ll get you an appointment tomorrow if you let me–”

“Ma!” she screeched again, parroting your earlier movements, walking right up to you, holding your shoulders firmly, and shaking as she spoke, or rather, yelled. “I’m not on drugs, don’t be stupid!” You scowled at her, pushing her off of you.

“Then what is it because I’ve been wracking my brain for what could possibly have my child on fucking edge and–”

“I found a journal!” she interrupted, voice loud and exasperated. You whipped around, pinning her down with a stare you’d mastered over the years. She froze on the spot, likely shocked she’d let it slip in the first place.

“You found a– a journal? Where? Who’s?” you asked succinctly, hiding your shaking hands behind your back. 

“Uh– it was– Esme, she– it’s her’s, and she wanted me to help her find the name of this guy who’d visited her when she was younger. I reached out and it’s a letter from him, that’s it. I was excited for her,” she explained, but the way her voice wavered made you certain that wasn’t the whole story. 

“Then why didn’t you just tell me?” you reasoned, still unbelieving. It was too convenient of an explanation. 

“Because she told me not to! You’re– you’re a bit harsh, sometimes, a bit cynical when it comes to love,” she said, hesitantly, mouth twitching with a smile at how you were now the one pouting. “Anyway, you’re always telling me to butt out of people’s business so I thought it’d be best to just keep it to myself.”

The two of you, mother and daughter, stood in silence for many long minutes, bathed in the nauseating yellow glow of the kitchen lights, flickering bulbs casting ugly shadows across your faces. But it was home, the one one you knew, so you never complained, at least not out loud.

Not when Poppy was around to hear you. “Okay, I believe,” you relented, returning to the dishes, though Poppy nudged you out of the way.

“Why don’t you let me do this, huh? Go sit down for a bit, I’ll finish tidying up.”

You opened your mouth to protest but Poppy was quick to give you a look– the look. Same one you’d mastered after many years of dealing with her fits, and evidently, she seemed to have learnt it as well. You acquiesced reluctantly, hands raised for the second time that night, and fell back, fainted more like, onto the sofa.  

Poppy stood, hunched over the sink, and you watched her from your position in the living room. 

Something– a nagging feeling you couldn’t quite get rid off– poked at you, at your brain in all of its aching, slimy glory– that the story she fed you was just that– a story, fictional. But you trusted her, unlike some other mother’s who’d lecture you over the cabbages in the market about how you were too lenient with Poppy, how she’ll end up just like you.

You griped internally. She’d be lucky if she turned out anything like you. Your gaze returned to her, shoulders moving as she scrubbed at the dirty dishes.

Okay. Maybe not exactly like you. 

He arrived on an assuming Tuesday, a single bag strapped to his back, all brown skin and smouldering looks hidden behind decade-old sunglasses. Poppy couldn’t believe it, not one bit, as she greeted the stranger while working at the pier.

He had her curls, unruly and deep brown. 

“Can I help you?” she asked politely, lips pulled into a frown to hide the urge of flinging herself at him with no explanation at all.

“Yeah, I’m looking for this address–” he fumbled with a piece of paper, pulling it from his back pocket. It was a letter, her letter, and he jabbed at the address, her address, on the front of the creased envelope. “--or if that’s not familiar, Poppy? She said her name was Poppy. Do you know anyone like that around these parts?”

She snorted. What were the chances? 

She’d almost bailed on her shift, persuaded by Ben and his pretty smile to sneak out to the hidden beach on a nearby island. You’d managed to coerce him into going another day, mumbling an excuse or two in between kisses as you rushed down to the dock. 

And then there he was, looking a lot like the lost puppy Esme had described to you. He still had the same odd facial hair, though it fit him a little better, having aged well. 

“Poppy? Yeah, I know her,” Poppy mused, pulling at her bottom lip in faux-thought, eyes darting between the letter and the confused man holding it.

“Right, well–” he cleared his throat, shifting his weight between his feet. “Can you direct me towards her?”

“Oh, yeah, of course,” you nodded vehemently, hoping he couldn’t see the grin threatening to take over your features. 

He sighed defeatedly after waiting for you to continue, and after you failed to expand on the information, he shoved the paper back into his pocket. “Okay, thanks for the help”-- sounding not the least bit thankful.

Better put him out of his misery, she thought eagerly, looping an arm around his shoulder, having to lean up on the tips of her toes to reach. “It’s actually you’re lucky day, Bradley–” you began, that same grin winning its battle. 

“How do you know–” he cut you off, then stopped himself, pausing as he turned to face you. “Oh…”

“Oh!” she mirrored, though a lot less like she’d had some sort of epiphany. more mocking and exaggerated.

“So you’re Poppy?” he asked, stupidly, bashfully, shaking his hair out of his eyes. They were slightly longer, the strands, than in the photos, but he had that same boyish charm you’d sensed. 

“The one and only,” Poppy enthused.. 

“So you’re–”

“Her daughter? Yeah, that’d be me,” she finished for him, teetering towards something more serious, more solemn, bracing yourself for the moment of realisation as the both of them walked up to the road, identical gaits and hair and noses, where Poppy’s Jeep (or the one she’d borrowed from you) was parked.

It never came. 

“And your Dad?” 

You choked on a breath that never made it down the right pipe, halting in your steps. “My Dad?” you asked, bemused.

“Yeah– is he around? Would love to meet him, your Mother as well, of course. I was really surprised by the letter but I think–”

“My Dad isn’t around. Never met him,” she explained slowly, frustrated by how he really wasn’t understanding. Had she not been obvious enough?

Shit. Would she give him a fucking heart attack if she told him now?

She looked him over, deciding he wasn’t so old that an unannounced confession would kill him. 

“I’m sorry about that, men can be real dickheads,” he stated, as if knowing from experience, not bothering to censor his language, and she liked him just a bit more for it.

He was perfect for you.

Poppy watched, unspeaking, as he settled into the passenger seat, admiring the interior of the car– probably the one thing you owned that wasn’t ripping at the seams. “So, where are we headed?” 

“The hotel Ma’ owns, it’s at the–”

“Centre of the island?” he interrupted, staring distantly out at the unwavering landscape. 

Bradley-- Rooster let out a shaky breath, one she tried not to notice, understanding that the two of  you, meeting after all these years– it wasn’t going to be easy. Not when there was a significant part of his life he didn’t even know existed, one that came in the form of her.

“You remember,” you pointed out, surprised and sounding more like a statement rather than a question.

“Yeah, I mean– I remember everything. How could I not?” There was something beneath his words, a weight to them that had her shifting uncomfortably in her seat, foot colliding with the accelerator as they hurried home. 

“So you’ll be staying here,” she announced, shoving her shoulder against the barn door and coughing at the dust that attacked her senses once she managed it open. Bradley– or Rooster, as he’d told her to call him– followed close behind, cautious with every step as he took in his  dilapidated housing.

“Here?” he questioned out loud, pushing at the bunches of hay lining the floor with the toe of his combat boots. He was sweating like it was no one’s business and Poppy giggled to herself, finding amusement in his unspoken disgust. 

“Yeah, here. The hotel’s all booked up–” a lie, she just couldn’t have you stumbling upon him before she’d planned how it’ll all go down. “So this was all we had left. I’ll find a spare mattress for you, and the bakery across the road– owned by a sweet, old lady–” another lie, it was Esme and there was nothing sweet about her. “--who can help you with showering, food, all the necessities.” 

He stared intensely as she spoke, as if not really listening to a word she was saying. 

“What is it?” she asked eventually, breaking free from his gaze as she busied herself, distracted herself, with collecting the boxes into a corner, out of the way to allow him some more room.

Rooster shook his head, convincing himself to look elsewhere, and smoothed his hair back. 

“Nothing, sorry. You just– you’re so much like your Mother. It’s crazy, really.” She beamed at him, suddenly sitting on the floor opposite, and he joined her amongst the dust and hay. 

“Really? You think so?” He nodded, laughing at her eagerness. “She said once, I don’t think she knew I was awake and I was really young, or younger,” she amended then continued. “She said I reminded her of my Dad, but I couldn’t ever tell you if it’s true or not.”

“Can’t say I knew him either–” Brilliant, it was all just brilliant. “--but you’re as… fiery, I guess would be an appropriate word, as she was.”

“And what was she like?”

He was ready to answer, not needing even a moment to think his response through, but your voice from outside the barn had Poppy’s eyes widening with fear, heart sinking low in your chest.

“Poppy! You in here?” You struggled with the door, pushing all of your weight into the crumbling wood. 

“Fuck–” she cursed. “You need to– you need to hide, like– now.” He watched, perplexed, opening his mouth to question the sudden turn in events but she held up a finger, shushing him like he was a child and not her Father-who-didn’t-know-it. 

“I’ll explain later just– please,” you begged quietly, urging him deeper in between the organised junk and out of sight. 

She inhaled, exhaled, steadying her thrumming heartbeat. “Ma’! Y-yeah, I’m here, one second.” 

Poppy pulled on the handle, hauling it open but the circular, metal ring broke-free from the door. 

“Another thing to fix, I guess,” you noted, nodding at the rusted metal in her hand. “What’re you doing in here?” you asked, as if only now aware of where the both of you were.

“Here? I’m just– glue gun, yanno. Esme still couldn’t find it so I thought I'd try again.” 

“Alright you flaky weirdo. I swear, you wouldn’t even need drugs to act all high and jittery, manage it just fine all by yourself,” you mumbled, dismissively pushing past her and heading straight towards the area Poppy had, moments earlier, shoo-ed Rooster towards. 

“You can't go there!” she burst out, holding out a hand in front of you that you glowered at. 

“Yeah, and why’s that?” you asked, voice tight and ready to pull the Mother card you never really enjoyed playing. You’d earned it, sure, but it was a little demeaning considering how old your daughter now was. 

“Because– Because–” 

Shuffling footsteps alerted your attention towards the disarray, squinting between the piles, searching for where the noise originated from. “Is there someone else here?”

“Yes! There is!” Poppy admitted, and your stare returned to her. She could see, right past your head, where Rooster was stepping into the light, assuming she was about to explain his presence, but she shook her head imperceptibly– not yet, go back, go back

You stared expectantly, waiting for a response. “It’s Ben,” she blurted, not sure, even herself, where she was headed. “And he’s– well, you see– he’s naked. Yeah, we were about to have sex and you walked in and he’s all embarassed.”

You sputtered, all but sprinting towards the door and unable to look behind you so you missed how Poppy relaxed minutely. “Oh– wow, okay. Just– that’s not what I was expecting,” you stuttered, palm shielding your eyes. “I mean, firstly– not here, gross, that sounds unbelievably unhygienic. And secondly– use protection.”

You didn’t stay any longer, escaping to the outside, and Rooster appeared beside Poppy almost immediately.

She turned, ready to barrage him with excuses and explanations she hadn’t thought of yet. “I’m so sorry, she’s–!”

“She doesn’t know, does she? That I’m here?” he asked, though he didn’t need you to respond to know the answer.

He groaned into his hands, bending at the hip and breathing raggedly. “Okay, so– I’m gonna go before she does find out. It was nice meeting you Poppy,” he said, all in one go with no room for you to interrupt.

“No you can’t– she’s just–”

“No, I really, really need to leave,” he bit out, not facing her as he strapped his bag to his back.

“If you just give her time–”

“You don’t understand!” he exploded, eyes fluttering shut as he visibly attempted to calm himself. “The last time she saw me– it wasn’t– it wasn’t good. And I left the next day, without a word of apology or justification or–” Rooster sighed as if he’d had this argument with himself countless times before. “--so no, I can’t imagine she’ll ever come around.” 

He stopped at the boundary of the door, calling behind him. “I’m sorry for wasting your time.” 

Then he left, again. 

At least he apologised this time, she thought bitterly. 

You were stepping down from the hardware store, or hole in the wall, really, when you saw him.

A flash of saturated colour, mind-numbing prints, and broad shoulders. You gasped, frantically searching around yourself as if questioning if anyone else had seen a ghost from their own past.

No. They seemed to be going about their day as usual– Johnny sweeping at the cobblestone directly in front of his store, Mia laying fresh fish on ice, ready to be sold, her six-year old daughter tugging on the bottom of her dress with tears in her eyes. 

No one was phased, except you. You looked back to where you’d seen him, but he wasn’t there anymore, only an empty street corner with nothing particularly out of the ordinary.

What the-- You rushed forward, intent on finding out the truth as your boots slapped loudly against the pavement, dodging busy workers and locals, all, now, staring at your wild movements. 

“Child– where are you in such a hurry to?” Esme yelled, head poking through her bakery window with a scowl at the abrasive noise you were making in your pursuit.

“I’ll explain later, May!” you hurtled back, not stopping despite the burning in your legs, your chest. 

Still, you carried on, making it all the way to the edge of the city centre, rushing to a stop as you stared across the abandoned gravel road. There was no one there except you, and you panted, exhausted and head-pounding, as you scolded yourself for such a stupid daydream. The heat had never gotten to you like this before. 

It felt so real, him. 

“Hey,” a voice greeted, cautiously, from behind you. Your eyes closed, hands clenched at your side, before you turned to face the tentative owner.

“Hey yourself,” you answered, surprising yourself at how civilised and steady your voice sounded to your own ears.

Bradley fucking Bradshaw. It was real after all.

“Are you okay?” he asked, hurrying towards you and letting his bag drop to the ground between the two of you, pulling out a water bottle and holding it out in front of you. A peace offering of sorts. 

You only stared at it, like it’d bite you if you got any closer. “Take it, sweetheart. It’s fucking miserable out here.”

The endearment had you flashing your eyes at him, fire or rage or something somehow hotter– the sun had nothing on you in that moment, but he stumbled back, remembering himself. 

“What are you doing here?” you demanded between gritted teeth, chin turned up at him. 

“Sightseeing,” he said simply with that reaching grin that had you melting years earlier. 

You scoffed impatiently. Poppy really had gotten her knack for lying, or royally sucking at it, from him. 

“That’s bullshit. Why are you really here?”

There must have been an edge to your voice that had him spilling the truth, because you were stunned when he explained. 

“Poppy– you met Poppy?” you asked, forcibly nonchalant, arms no longer dangling stupidly at your side but rather picking at the straps of your dungarees, loose threading growing longer as you pulled at them. 

“Yeah, she’s a good kid,” he said, nothing giving away– not in his words, his body language, the look on his face– that he knew. Knew she was his. 

He sat on the edge of the pavement, right by your feet, and patted the burning space next to him. You blew at a strand of hair tickling your nose, hating how you listened, even then, and sat right next to him, shoulders brushing the slightest bit and you were scampering to put some more distance between the two of you.

He smirked, quiet, leaning his arms on his bent knees, and his head on top, turned towards you as he watched you fight yourself. 

“So, how’ve you been?” he asked, waiting, patient, all things you could never be.

“I’m fine,” you grumbled dryly, accidentally meeting his eyes, Rooster’s smirk deepened, before darting away. “You?”

The mid-afternoon heat bared down on the both of you, colouring your shoulders darker and doing nothing to help the heavy thumping against your skull, like a jackhammer or a fucking normal hammer– whatever. It just hurt bad. 

Rooster noticed, silently offering his water to you again which you reluctantly snatched from him, gulping almost half of it down before he decided it was safe to speak.

“Still get migraines from the heat?” he asked, though it was more an observation than a question. You nodded, placing the now-empty bottle between your feet. 

“I’m fine, as well. After I left–” you visibly winced, glaring against the rays of the sun as you willed yourself to look anywhere but at him, not when the tips of your ears were burning, ringing, making you dizzy and woozy and about ready to throw up all over your worn boots. 

“--I went back to training and was then deployed overseas for a long time. Been training new recruits for the past few years now. It’s–” he stopped, glancing at you momentarily, but decided to continue. “--it’s nice. Feels like I’m moulding them to be better versions than me because I sure wasn’t picture perfect by any means.”

“No, you really weren’t–aren’t–” you agreed, voice barely above a whisper. 

“I know I never said sorry, and it seems pointless now but–”

“Bradley,” you said his name and his heart stopped. He was dead and even though it was you that had killed him, right there with your voice alone, it was also only you that could bring him back to life. “I really don’t want to hear this,” you begged, and you never begged– never.

What had he done to you?

“Please, sweetheart–” Again with the nickname. You bristled beside him, standing up all of a sudden as if you were about to run in the opposite direction of his familiar ruggedness. “I need you to hear this, just a second–”

“No– you don’t,” you growled out of frustration, tugging your hair free and pressing your fingertips into your skull, anything to soothe the ache growing there. “--you don’t get to need anything, you, you– fucking prick!” 

He said nothing, baffled, shocked, certain nothing he said now would make this situation any better. It was downhill from here.

“You said you loved me– promised me the fucking world and a ring and a life together, and the next morning, you left! You fucking– you left!” You were yelling now, unafraid, unabashed, uncaring if anyone could hear. They couldn’t, and if they could, they wouldn’t clue you in that they were. 

The people of this town loved to know the darkest, most confidential secrets of its inhabitants, all without ever showing their face. This wasn’t any different. 

“I had to!” he insisted aggressively, pushing off the rubble and invading your personal space, leading you back, back, back– until you hit a wall. You held him at arm's length, hand pressed against his hard chest, holding him there. 

If he got any closer– well, if the past was anything to go by, you wouldn’t remember to stay mad long. 

“I had to!” Rooster repeated, desperately. You said nothing, so he went on. “I got a letter– they needed me back, I can’t– I can’t tell you why–” You sneered, typical. “--but, I was going to come back. I swear it.”

His breathing was loud, dense in your buzzing ears. It’s just words, nothing but words– you repeated to yourself, over and over again. Bradley stepped back, giving you space and himself, as well. But his despairing stare– it pierced something inside you, something you hadn’t thought was still there. 

“I wrote letters,” he stated.

“I know, I got them,” you retorted acridly, slumping into the wall for support.

“You never responded.” Again, stating facts.

“I was busy.” Being pregnant. 

He nodded, unable or unwilling, you weren’t sure, to argue. An emptiness stretched between you and him, the kind you don’t think any words, half-hearted i’m sorrys, or passionate confessions could ever fill. 

He bent to pick up his backpack. “Is there anything, and I mean anything, I could say to make you forgive me,” he asked, voice dejected and the rest of him following suit.

You shook your head, words failing you.

Rooster, Bradley– he turned to leave, accepting defeat, and something roared in your chest, urging, begging, pleading for you to stop him.

You don’t know why you did it, or how you thought it would ever be even a half-decent idea, but it spilled past your lips before you knew what you were saying, confessing, like a foot jamming between a door, forcing it open for someone, anyone.

Bradley.

“Poppy,” you said, loud enough for him to hear. He stopped but didn’t face you. “Poppy. She’s– she’s yours.” 

His bag– the poor thing had been rattled all day– fell off his shoulder, and he spun, in slow motion, questions discernible on his face but struggling to make it out of his mouth. “How– We didn’t– I used–”

“What’s that thing they say– ninety-nine percent effective.” You shrugged blandly. “Guess we were the one percent. 

It was strange having a man in the house, but there he was– Bradley Bradshaw, or Rooster, sat right at your kitchen table looking a lot like a man you’d once loved but hoped to forget.

There’s this story you loved to tell Poppy when she was young, dealing with the realities of bullies and snarky kids with nothing else to do but poke fun at her absent Father and questionable living circumstances. It was ironic, really, because it wasn’t like they were exactly well off, but kids were mean and you were sick of seeing your daughter upset everyday when there was nothing you could do.

So you told her the story of Pandora’s Box, or Jar, actually, as she corrected you, having read about it in the library but still entirely enchanted by your way of storytelling. It was like letting her in on a secret only grown-ups knew and Poppy was downright bewitched to be a part of the club.

It was never the whole let-out-everything-awful-and-wrong-with-the-world part of the story that was your motivation for telling it, or her love for hearing it, but rather, the ending. 

After all the evil, poverty, greed and general nasties had escaped, tainting the world and the humans that inhabited it– out came hope, fluttering on its weak wings but beautiful all the same. 

At the time, you’d believed hope to be this beacon of light, something to keep you going when nothing else could, when the bullies had you down bad.

Now, however, you saw hope as a cruel joke. 

That after all of this negativity that had made mankind wrought with sin and selfishness, hope lingers about for no reason other than to yank your chain, keep the wheel of capitalism turning, the public nothing but a lot of pigs with hope dangled in front of them like an out-of-reach carrot.

You’d admit it’s a pessimistic take on the story, but it wasn’t long after Poppy was born that you realised hope was a sweet lie fed to the ignorant. 

The proof of it sat right in front of you, looking exactly the same except for the way in which his hair tickled the tops of his ears, having grown out from his previous military-ordered buzzcut.

“Can I get you something? Tea? Water?” you asked, words maddeningly courteous as you yanked the fridge door open, searching for something to offer your guest.

He hadn’t said a word since you’d blurted it out an hour ago, instead, guiding him back into town, to your house, Poppy nowhere insight (likely hiding out until she’s certain you’ve cooled down, though unluckily for her, the very sight of her would have you revved up and raging whenever she dared make an appearance). 

Rooster stared at a single tile on the opposite end of the kitchen, fixated and motionless like a statue and nothing like the passionate, begging man from earlier. 

“Helllooo?” you asked again, waving a hand in front of his face that snapped him from whatever trance he’d been under. He blinked at you, face blank enough to unnerve you. He should’ve said something by now, right?

“Water would be good, thank you,” he answered eventually, hoarse like he hadn’t spoken in years. You nodded, pulling a glass from the cabinet and letting the sink run into it before placing it on the plastic-topped table in front of him. 

You sat down on the only other usable chair that happened to be right next to him, the other two with the unstable legs and missing backrests having only been kept to make your kitchen look a little less incomplete. 

You both sat in silence, one that seemed just about never ending and had you gnawing on your lips and nails like a mad man. He looked over at you, noting your anxious state, and pulling your hand away from your mouth. It was infuriating, the way he acted like no time had passed. 

Well it had if your daughter was any indication. A whole lifetime had come and gone, for you, at least, and he couldn’t ignore it away, not like the rest of his problems or like he’d done with you. You were about to say as much, going off like you’d been itching to since you’d set sights on him, but he beat you to it.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He wasn’t looking at you, but you didn’t need to see him to hear the distress in his voice, and beneath that, a restrained sort of anger.

“I had nothing to tell,” was all you offered him, and his gaze snapped to you in the blink of an eye, his temper apparent on his features as that one vein at the top of his forehead stood proud, face going scarlet as he held himself back. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he spit out, unbelieving. “Nothing to tell?” he repeated. “I have a daughter, for Christ’s sake! One I would’ve loved to know about if you’d done me the courtesy of actually letting me in!”

Your hands clenched into tight fists, fingers twitching. “What? Like you were any better when you up and left?” 

He was shaking his head at you, unwilling to hear anything you were saying, and you were no different. “It’s not the same fucking thing, you know that. I had to leave. It’s my job, my duty, to my country and to–”

“Well what about me, huh?” you bellowed, reaching decibels you didn’t think were physically possible. Yet there you were, defying all odds. “What about your duty to me? To us? You promised–”

“I know what I promised you, but how could I give you anything– a life, a home, a family, a future– if I was broke and unemployed. Money doesn’t grow on trees, sweetheart, not here in the real world.” 

You couldn’t take it, exploding out of your chair. He didn’t know, couldn’t know, what you’d been through, what you’d fought past. But he followed close behind, grabbed you by your wrist until you had no choice but to face him. 

Rooster’s breaths escaped him in hard bursts, and you looked no better with the flush creeping up your neck and the scowl permanently etched to your face.

“That’s pure coming from you, the same man who was throwing away his life to join the army, giving up a paying job, all because his ego wouldn’t let him work for his Dad.” 

Bradley recoiled like you’d slapped him. 

“You weren’t around to see me working two, sometimes three if I could manage it, jobs– for years, Bradley, years. It was hard, so fucking hard, but I did it because I had someone dependant on me. I wasn’t alone, living like some unattached bachelor. I worked myself to the bone for her– for Poppy.” You were close to sobbing by then, the weight of it all finally registering. “Because if I didn’t, no one would.” 

He looked like he wanted to argue more but thought better of it in the end, letting go of his hold on you and moving to lean his forehead against the wall in the living room. You watched, not wanting to move lest he remember you’re still there and end up going for a second round. You couldn’t, yearning for respite of any kind. 

And his head turned from where he was, catching the chest of drawers nestled in front of the window with photos of you and Poppy adorning every inch of its surface. He walked over, wordless.

You joined him where he stood, hand brushing against his, by accident, you’d tell yourself later, but when you tried to move away, he slipped his fingers through yours, squeezing hard. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, though there was no one else to hear it, no one but you. 

You nodded, accepting his apology, then realising he wasn’t looking at you, you said, “Me too. I’m sorry.” 

He reached forward, picking up a photo of Poppy at age two, hair in pigtails, chubby knees covered in sand at the beach. It was the first time she’d gone into the water and you wanted to live in that moment forever, freeze it and hold it close to your chest. It had seemed like the biggest milestone at the time, and you remember wishing he was there to treasure it as well.

“I know why you did it,” he admitted, and you faltered from where you stood. “And I’m not going to stand her and pretend like I would have dropped everything, put everything on pause, for the two of you. I can’t guarantee that, knowing who I was back then.” You inhaled shakily, eyes glassy from barely-held-back tears. 

Bradley turned to you abruptly, hand sliding out of yours to hold your face instead, close and intimate. Like nothing had changed.

You didn’t fight it, savouring the feeling of being held, of relinquishing control to someone else, if only for a second. “But that’s not who I am anymore. I don’t care about what happened and what didn’t. I’m here now, and, if you’d let me, I’d like to stay. Learn a little more about you, and about– about Poppy, as well.” 

You searched his face for any hint of a lie, that innate urge to protect your child at all cost threatening to label Bradley’s confession as pretence. It’d be easier if it was, you thought, if things weren’t so complicated and you could just say no.

But no matter how hard you looked, how long as well, you found nothing, only love and a sincerity you couldn’t possibly fault, even if you were still broken and bruised from years of delayed burn-out. 

So you did the only reasonable thing one could do. You nodded, complimenting it with a watery smile he chuckled lowly at. 

“Yeah? Gonna take a chance on me, sweetheart?” he asked, needing confirmation but unable to hide his budding rapture.

“Yeah,” you breathed. “Okay, okay. I think– maybe, we can work something out.”

He grinned and fuck– was he a vision. No matter how you framed the past, it was all going to be both of yours’ fault for what happened, and how it did. His for leaving and yours for keeping the child you shared a secret. 

And it wasn’t like the road ahead was going to be at all easy, you’d accepted your fate already. But maybe, and you might have been overstepping or consumed by an unexpected wave of euphoria that impaired your judgement– but maybe a family was worth fighting for. 

After all, the best things in life, the things truly worth having and celebrating, were never meant to be easily acquired, otherwise you’d just take them for granted.

You didn’t take this for granted, and you didn’t let the hassle deter you. 

For the first time in a long time, you had hope, and there was nothing cruel or funny about it. 

Hope you enjoyed this <3 Reblogs & Comments are love love loved!

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[lewsnumerounofan]

party foul part 2 (jeremiah fisher x reader)

summary: so what if you're in love with your best friend jeremiah fisher? one drunk kiss won't change anything. right? (spoiler: it does)

notes: not biblically accurate conrad, kissing, smut, unprotected oops, somewhat public, 3k words, reader previously dated co**ad, angst/miscomm., not proof read at all

+ part 1

+ i fucking hate htis one its so bad i'm so sooryim gooo fuckjuhnbsorry oh my god and dw abt the header image!!!!!! it's okay!!!!!

your phone hit voicemail again. it was the seventh time you’d tried calling jere, but still no luck. 

“maybe he’s staying at a friends place,” belly supplied, but she looked worried too. ever since you and jere had kissed the night before, he’d been mia. steven, you, conrad and belly had all taken turns trying to reach him with no success. at first it had been expected, but it was now rounding out on 24 hours since he’d left, and worry was starting to permeate amongst everyone. well, everyone except taylor. she wasn’t too worried about it. he’s probably just moping around feeling sorry for himself, she’d said. 

unfortunately, you couldn’t quite master taylor’s level of nonchalance. in fact, you felt awful. for a few minutes, everything had been perfect. you’d been kissing the boy of your dreams–the boy you were in love with. and then…

“yeah, he kinda checks out when he’s upset. he did the same thing after mom died.”

conrad, this time. him and nicole had just come back from driving through town trying to find him. you nodded, but a tightness was slinking into your chest. jere hadn’t ‘checked out’ after suzanna died. he’d called you, and together you’d talked for hours as he wandered the streets of boston. never before had he shut you out like this. it made you worried. more than worried; it made you feel scared.

“i think i’ll try him again, just in case,” you said. because you couldn’t not do something. because you were scared you’d messed things up permanently, because jeremiah had never, ever ignored your calls.

“okay, well i’m ordering pizza. jere disappearing or not, i’m fucking starving,” said taylor. she’d hopped off her place on the counter and now started flipping through the take out flyers stuck to the fridge. steven and belly sounded their agreement. 

“i can pick it up,” you offered, “it’ll give me a chance to go look for him too.”

you were out the door soon after, steven and taylor’s argument about whether pineapple belonged on pizza still lingering in the background. feeling a bit better now that you had something to do, you let the warm summer air breeze through your car windows. jere was out there somewhere, probably doing just fine. it’s not like he’d do something dumb or get himself hurt. if you were honest with yourself, he’d most likely just crashed at an old hook up’s house. there were plenty of those around in cousin’s, and they’d likely all enjoy having jere back. you tried not to think about it. 

-

the pizza place was a 20 minute drive from the fischer’s, and you took the long route along the beach. it was a perfect summer night: seagulls called off shore, the sunset lingered to the west, and couples lazily strolling back to their cars. it was the type of night jere loved.

you were a couple minutes early for your order, so you decided to make the most of it and join the sparse crowds decorating the beach. you pulled over and parked, grabbing a light sweater for the evening weather. 

amongst the waves and people’s quiet chatter, the beach possessed a lingering hum. it was a sound that accompanied many of your fondest childhood memories, and you took comfort in it’s familiarity and peacefulness. you couldn’t help but think of jere–think about what had passed between you last night, mostly. 

did you finally tell her you're in love with her? 

you hadn’t been able to get steven’s words out of your head. the thought of jere ever liking you was one thing, but love? it felt too good to be true. 

and besides, it’s not as though it would matter if you never even got to see jeremiah again. for the first time, you almost felt annoyed at his vanishing act. he’d left you confused and frustrated and wanting more.

just then, as if you’d conjured him yourself, you noticed jere on the beach before you. his curls were unmistakable–almost the same colour as the sand. his hands were tan and strong as he leaned back on them, sun-bleached bracelets wrapped around his wrists. you wanted to take a picture of him there. keep this precious moment of discovery and summer immortalised forever.

and then he turned around, blue eyes catching yours. 

you could see the moment worry set in by the tight line that furrowed over his brows. he started to rise from the sand and you moved towards him, carried by adrenaline and anger and a little bit of excitement. halfway down the beach you caught each other, but before you could speak jeremiah was shrugging past you.

“you shouldn’t have come.”

the waves and gulls seem to mock you then–the whole perfect august night laughed in your face as you stopped, stomach sinking. it took a few moments for his words to register, and a few more for you to whip around and catch up to him. he was almost past your car when you finally managed to grasp onto his sleeve. deja vu hit you hard enough that you almost stumbled. just last night this same action led to jere’s lips on yours, his mouth hot over your body. today’s jere must have seen the memory on your face because he scoffed, pulling back sharply.

“see? you can’t even think about what happened without looking disgusted,” he said. his voice was low but convicted. closed. you hated it. 

“jere, what are you talking about? you wouldn’t know anything about how i feel–you ran away last night and no one’s been able to contact you since,” you tried. he made an attempt to keep walking but you didn't let him, this time coming to stand between him and the road. ridiculous.

“no calls, no texts, nothing. do you have any idea how worried everyone has been?”

at this jere’s eyes blazed and he took a step forwards, letting his head lower as he spit the words into your face, “yeah, i’m sure you and conrad were just about worried sick huh.”

it took quite a lot of effort on your part not to roll your eyes. what was with this boy. had the kiss not been enough? did he really think, after all this time, conrad stood a chance?

“you’re such an idiot sometimes jere,” you said, regretting it as his chest shuddered under a heavy breath. 

he laughed and looked away. his eyes were bright in the dwindling sun, his jaw harsh as he fought to control himself. slight smudges under his eyes, extra tangled curls, slightly red eyes. now that you were up close, jere looked a mess. heart hurting you reached for him, wanting to smooth back the stray hair falling over his cheekbones. to smooth over this, over him, to let him know everything was alright. he caught your hand. even this, even his firm grasp on your skin, had your body lighting up. awakening in a way it only would for jere. 

“you sure know how to make it hurt. why can’t you just fuck off and we can pretend this never happened, okay?” he hissed, but you knew jere. the way he blinked more and the way his voice changed. “just- just please go home. it hurts me to look at you right now. it hurts.”

his voice broke and he dropped your hand. you couldn’t stand the look on his face. you didn’t let him turn away from you though. this was your boy, the boy you’d been in love with every day for a year. and you wouldn’t have him thinking otherwise.

your pulse raced as you said, “it’s you, jere. it’s you and it’s always been you. not conrad. and it would hurt me if you thought anything otherwise.”

he flinched at your words but there was something in his face that changed. something small, something that took you having to know how he breathed to notice. hope. 

“jere, look at me. look at me,” you said. and he did, his eyes wide and blue. the same eyes you dreamed of. 

“i love you. i love you, jere.”

you folded the words onto his lips as you kissed him. wrapped them in sugar and pressed them onto his mouth, begging him to understand. to see what had been obvious every night you’d called him, every time you’d hugged him, every time you’d smiled at his dimples.

“i love you.”

and then you couldn’t say anything else because he was cupping your jaw, tilting your face and running his tongue over your teeth. panting as he consumed your gasps. pulled the air from you. 

jere shuffled you back until the cool press of your car met your hips. under him and the way he kissed at your neck, you had no notion of what surrounded you. no idea of anything except the heat of his tongue against your throat. your ear. your lips. 

“up,” he mumbled. that was all the warning he gave before lifting you onto the hood of your car. the metal was cold beneath you but his hands were burning as they circled your thighs, coaxing your legs apart until he could press himself against you. 

he was so big in front of you. the wide span of his shoulders, the strong shape of his hands. he was kissing like he’d hurt if he didn't. you felt feverish, you felt elated. jere broke away enough to rest his forehead on yours, chest rising and catching.

“need you,” he said. his voice was tight.

“what?” 

“said i need you.”

“here?” 

you were incredulous at first, but jere didn't even bother to look embarrassed. his gaze was level with yours and you had to blush and look away.

“we could- i mean, we’ve got my car…”

he grinned as he pulled you down, and the giggle came before you can stop it. around the vehicle and into the back seats you were both trying to stop from laughing. it was such an encapsulation of being a teenager. of sneaking around and driving each other crazy and being in love. the feeling had you collapsing onto his lap as he pulled the door closed, huffing onto the tan skin of his neck.

“this is so stupid,” you said. the grin jere gave leaves you breathless. your fingers pressed over his smile, tracing the red line of his mouth. the car was warm and dark and protected. 

“you have no idea how long i’ve waited for this,” he said, “waited for you.”

you wanted to laugh again but his hands were pulling up your shirt. goosebumps followed the path of his thumb over your bra, under your bra; when he put his mouth on you you moaned. in this little space you’d made the sound was a feeling and jere grinded into you at its touch. focused as he toyed with you, painting your chest red and purple with his lips.

baby, baby, you were saying as strong hands held you close. even as you tried to pull away–push closer?–from the intensity of his kisses. of having his curly hair fall against your chest and stomach. of his eyelashes brushing over your collarbone. you molded your palm to the thick muscle of his shoulder, watching it shake as he took his time drawing you out.

“please, jere.”

he knew what you meant. off comes his shirt, crumpled on the ground beneath the drivers seat. outside the sun had set. gulls still called from offshore, quiet on the other side of the car’s window. 

neither of you bothered getting fully undressed. after struggling with both your pants, he tugged down his boxers enough and helped your trembling fingers pull aside your own underwear. he was whispering you’re sure? even as you raised up on both knees, murmuring in your ear until you had him notched inside you. 

except for your stuttering breaths, it went silent in the car. jere’s hands were at your back, gently gathering your hair into a loose ponytail. he was shaking too then. 

it almost doesn’t seem real–that moment. the press of warm, bare skin. that just days ago you were best friends, and hours ago you weren’t sure you’d have a relationship at all. and now you were here on top of him, having sex in your car at the beach. you wanted to laugh again, but you were seeing white as jere filled you.

you couldn't keep your head up. you were dizzy as you fell forward into his warm chest, taken over by the stretch of him, the perfect fit. he found his breath again, enough to murmur that you were taking him so well. that you felt so good. 

“jere,” you said as his hands found your hips. nodding, kissing the top of your head, he guided you forward and then back, transfixed as he watched where you two fit together. 

it was a tight fit in the car. you had to bend over him so as not to hit your head, and jere’s long legs pressed against the back of the front seat. you don’t care much though, not when you could grind down and watch him tense up, muscles in his neck tight. it should have be criminal to look that pretty. his hair, slightly damp from fucking, curled tighter around his temples. his eyelashes were long over his cheek bones as he tilted his head back, eyes closed. leaning down to lick his adam’s apple you listened to him groan.

“can’t believe ive been missing out on this,” he said. his voice was breathy and quiet and warm on your face and you drew even with him. you wanted to arch into his hands, to bend yourself around him until every piece of your skin was held by his. you felt crazy. 

talking to him like this, when he was still inside you, when you were riding him, made you clench. already you were aching for it. jere knew it too. he was watching you, watching the movement of your body and your face like it was a special act just for him. like you were beautiful.

“jere,” you said. it was just about the only word you can remember.

he shifted beneath you, one hand coming to map the side of your ribs, the other between your legs. the rhythm changed as he began to meet you with his hips, and every breath became hinged on a moan. the way he thumbed over your clit, the way he mouthed at your tits. control was slipping away from you. fast. 

the new angle was almost too much, and as jere buried deep you gasped. your body was liquid and you almost tipped backwards, grabbing at his shoulders. like a man possessed, jere didn’t even pause. his large hand gripped the front headrest above you as he laid you down over the armrest between the front two seats. 

lying prone and naked half in the front of your car, you realized something quite quickly. your back windows were tinted. the front ones most definitely were not. 

“someone could see, jere!” you said, attempting to lift yourself up. most beach-goers had cleared out after the sunset, but faintly you could still hear the sound of people playing in the surf. jere’s tan hand on your chest stopped you.

“we’d better be quick then.”

before you had time to try reasoning, jere was pushing back into you. unable to argue, unable to say anything, you found his hand and laced your fingers together. it was all you could cling to as he fucked into you, as the heat of his body spread over you. it was warm and close and dark and when you finished, together, he stopped breathing. just for a second. then, while your mind was still hazy he pulled you back onto his lap and kissed you. hard. 

holding you there, safe in his arms. at some point he found his sweater and pulled it over your head. warm against his chest, body and legs aching. he whined when you clenched, absently, around him. still pressed inside you. it’s funny so you giggled and he groaned again and threw his arm over his face.

“don’t do that,” he grit out.

“why not?”

you were teasing. his eyes found you, tongue already in cheek. you couldn't look away from his red mouth.

“because i’ll get hard again.”

it amazed you how ready you were at the possibility. your spine already straightening. you don’t think you’ll ever stop wanting him.

but, faintly, you heard your phone ring. it was beneath a pile of clothes and it was on the last ring when you finally managed to snag it. 

“hello?” you said. jere watched you lazily, still smiling. 

“hey, uh where are you?”

you pulled the phone from your ear. the caller id read conrad. shit. pizzas. you’d gotten a bit… distracted. jere caught the name too and though his expression faded slightly, his gaze remained on yours. you smiled at him and couldn't help but kiss him. quickly. 

“yeah sorry about that conrad. listen, bad news is the pizza might be a bit cold,” you could hear groans from the other end of the line, “but uh. good news is i’ve found jere.”

you didn't bother to listen to the response, instead you leaned up to the boy you loved. kissed over his cheek and his dumb grin.

“i found my jere.”

[ticklygiggles]

Miya&Mia's Tickletober Day 26 - Thunder

Arataki Itto x Gorou

A/N: I'm not quite sure, but I think this is the first time I'm writing ittorou? I hope you enjoy this lovely Faaaabiii ❤️

Itto could hear the soft whimpers under the blankets. It was hard to believe that the brave Gorou was shaking from the thunder outside, but the general had explained to him a long time ago that the noise was unbearable for his ears. The sound, about ten times louder than for a normal ear.

Itto knew that Gorou hated him seeing him like this, but neither of them thought that a short trip to the City of Freedom would end with terrible weather with thunder making the room where they were staying vibrate, or maybe it was just Gorou shaking in fear? 

"I'm sorry," he mumbled under the blankets and Itto gasped. 

"Why do you say sorry?! You didn't do anything wrong, Gorou! Maybe I should be the one saying sorry," Itto said sheepishly, his big hand resting against Gorou's back. ""I was the one who proposed making this trip after all." 

"Don't be silly, how could we know the weather- eek!"

"Eek!" 

Both men froze. Gorou's head popped from under the blanket and looked at his partner with curious, yet teary eyes. 

"Why did you make that sound?" 

Itto giggled, his cheeks a little blushy. "Well, when you held on to me, it kind of tickled my side, here, you see?" He explained, pointing at his bare torso, a spot real close to his ribs. 

Gorou looked at him perplexed before he chuckled, shaking his head. 

"Honestly, your shriek was so loud I barely heard the thunder." 

They giggled, but suddenly both gasped and looked at each other with wide eyes. 

"You can tickle me to not hear the thunders!" 

Gorou laughed, but when another thunder started to purr in the sky, his hands quickly latched to Itto's ribs and the oni threw his head back with loud laughter. 

"W-Wahahahait- ahahahack! I wahahahasn't reheheady!"

Itto squeaked, trying to keep his arms glued to his sides to let Gorou tickle him freely, but gah! It was so so hard. Gorou already knew his ribs were so ticklish and so, he knew exactly how to tickle him to make him shriek with laughter. 

But, even though Itto already felt tears of laughter clinging to his lashes and he was snorting as Gorou pressed his thumbs deep into the spaces between his highest ribs, he was glad his boisterous laughter was enough to make Gorou ignore the loud thundering outside, but he himself thought his laughter was way too loud and somehow felt a little embarrassed.

"How are you this ticklish?" Gorou asked tenderly as Itto threw his head back when Gorou's fingers sneaked under his arms, tickling his armpits. "Is this a disease?"

"DOHOHON'T tehehease mehehehe!" 

"Why not? Does it tickle more?"

"IT DOHOHOES! G-GOHOHOROU!" 

Gorou laughed, "if it tickles so bad, why are you raising your arms?"

If Itto wanted Gorou to forget about the storm completely, then he was more than determined to expose himself as much as possible… even when he was snorting and shrieking like crazy.

"You are so weird, Itto," Gorou said fondly, but his fingers barely took a rest as he tickled Itto more and more. "But I guess you're being more than helpful right now, I can't even hear my own thoughts."

That made Itto laugh harder and his arms went down a little, but he held himself up very well. He wanted to say something, at least let Gorou know that he was glad he was being of help, but his laughter barely let him utter a single word, so he simply nodded, laughing and shrieking and snorting as he patiently waited for the storm to fade away so his beautiful partner could stop suffering. 

He could handle a little bit of tickling, besides… it was really fun!

[charliemcksstuff]

Lmk head canons!!

Macaque is fluent in Italian, he surprises people with how well he can speak it

Wukong knows some Spanish words, but is not completely fluent. He proudly claims he is fluent in Spanish.

Red Son is constantly called over by Mk just because he’s cold. He’s called the ‘portable heater’ by Mei.

In monkey form, Mk grows taller by a few inches. He’s then pretty much a head taller than Wukong and Mac.

Mac and Wukong fight over who’s taller. Physically most of the time. - Mk is the one who tries to stop them from fighting but only gets Wukong hurled at him in the process.

Mac likes rainy days. He hates when it storms because of the thunder.

Mk still makes sassy remarks at red son over ruining his apartment. He constantly says “a sketchbook or two would help me let it go.”

Wukong loves humid weather, he loves sitting outside and basking in it. - one time in the past, Mac had to drag him into some shade because he thought Wukong would start burning.

Macaque has a VERY high flight or fight response. It isn’t flight most of the time. - Mk was a victim to that fight response once.

Pigsy and Tang would dress up in an 80s theme every year for their anniversary.

Macaque called Wukong ‘Cara Mia’ once. Wukong thought he was being insulted.

Will do just shadowpeach ones later!!!

[mercholic]

— The wind was blowing all the picnic ustensils over, and you wonder why you both hadn’t bothered checking the weather before coming. Gavi closes the car door, and the sound echoes all over the tiny beach you had settled in for the day.

“Madre mia,” He grunts, setting the food baskets down, “How come it’s so warm out here but so humid?”.

“You chose to come here, pablo. See, in English, we say ‘take the consequences’ when stuff like that happens. For example, right now, you’re taking the consequences for not having checked the wind speed probability—“

“Save it,” he cuts you off, emptying the final food bag. You do nothing but giggle at his hot-blooded attitude. He’s never been calm, about anything, but you’re sure to have hit a nerve with this one. You’re about to abandon your antics and dig in, when an impromptu swarm of guests make their way to your romantic rendez-vous. Droplets make their appearances on the plates, and soon enough, the entirety of your setup is drenched. You don’t dare look at Gavi’s face, and instead look up to the sky. Surely enough, the previously immaculate clouds turn into a dull grey, effectively ruining your plans.

“I’m gonna start thinking the weather has something against me.” The brunette mumbles, and you reach out to him. Softly playing with his hair at the back of his head, so try your best to reassure him; “it’s the thought that counts, babe,” you turn to face him, “Besides, we can continue this in the car, we don’t have to drive back right away.”

He looks at you through his big brown eyes, and you feel even worse. Admittedly, going for a picnic in February wasn’t the best idea, even in Barcelona. However, the pity party doesn’t end up lasting too long as Gavi suddenly gets up and starts packing up at light speed, leaving you confused when he doesn’t come back to pick up the rest. From the car, he makes his intentions known: “If you’re not back with everything in two minutes, I’m driving off!”

“You don’t even know how to drive!” You shout back, hand over your eyes to prevent the rain from blurring your eyesight.

“One more reason for you to want to hurry up, amor!”

In other circumstances, you would have laughed, but with the rain pouring down and efficiently soaking you to the core, 3 food bags that are seconds close to being ruined, and a possible misdemeanour on your hands, you find it hard to take the joke lightly.

“I hate you!”

“I love you too!”

[blues-of-randomness]

Decided to make an ask meme/game so people can request head canons while I work on stuff (mostly home work..)

🎃 Favorite holiday

🎊 When is their birthday?

🌹 Their favorite flower

💐 What is their love language?

👗 Their favorite outfit (or an outfit i can imagine them in)

❤ What gets them out of bed every morning

🧡 Are they brave in scary situation's or a scared cat?

💛 are they petty or can they leave it be

💚 An act of kindness that melted their heart?

💙 are they honest or are they liars

💜 Their favorite hobby

🖤 The meanest thing you could say to them

🤍 The nicest thing you could say to them

✝️ Are they religious or not

👻 what are they scared off?

🍱 Their favorite meal

🍨 Favorite food

🍼Their comfort food

🧩 Their favorite activity

🎲 Random headcanon

☀ Morning routine

🌙 Bedtime routine

🪶 Are then ticklish?

🎄Favorite Holiday

💦 Are they a toughie or a crybaby

❤️‍🩹 Wort injury they've had so far

💤Do they sleepwalk, sleep talk, any other sleep head canon you can think off

🎶 do they like music/to sing

❄ holiday and/or snow day headcanons

🎉 what are they like a party?

🕳️ their worst nightmare so far

🗣️ what languages do they speak?

👨‍👩‍👧‍👦 A random family head canon (or a specified one of your choosing)

🥰 Their ideal partner

🪮 Self care routine

💢 Have they ever snapped on someone before?

🧸 Comfort item

🎹 A song I associate with them

💌 Who do they love (familial, Romantic, etc, keep in mind you might not get a straight answer)

🌈 their happiest memory

🌧 favorite type of weather

🔴 Do they have anger issues?

🟠 What's their pain tolerance from 1 to 10

🟡 How often to the get hurt?

🟢 Do they have anger issues?

🔵 What do they do self soothe?

🟣 Do they stim?

⚫ who would they die for?/Who do they hate with their very being.

⚪ How much do they swear?

You can ask about the smiling critters or my Smiling critters oc's that I've named so far, Aka: Wishkit, Kokoala, Mia constricter, Bubbas 8 adopted siblings, and Polaris. Along with some I haven't talked about yet such as Hoppy's siblings (Lucky, Shamrock and Thumpy), Dogday's siblings (Sunspot and Goldendoodle) and the rest of Catnap's siblings (Cosmo clips, Celeno, and Octavia)

[ther0sesared3ad]

inspired by a post i just saw by @mia-675 - what jackets i think the marauders era characters would wear

Sirius - black leather jacket (motorcycle jacket style) and he would wear loads of pins on it

Remus - brown leather bomber jacket (i have one exactly like it 🥳🥳) with massive pockets to fit his books

Peter - light blue denim jacket probably with a hoodie underneath

James- red and white varsity jacket type of thing with ‘Gryffindor quidditch team’ and a lion on the back

Lily - a green denim jacket with flowers embroidered onto the back

Regulus - an ankle length black trench-coat that is tailor made to fit him

Marlene - cherry red leather jacket

Pandora - a white lace shawl type of thing, she probably hates long sleeves so wears this instead

Barty - refuses to wear a jacket no matter what the weather is

Evan - a black hoodie that he painted on using bleach (probably a skeleton tbh)

Dorcas - a dark purple bell sleeved wrap cardigan typa thing

Mary - really chunky knitted cardigans, probably in white or pink

[mistresswriter19]

It's Called " Inspection " Ma'am~ Cop Doppelganger Francis X Reader " NSFW 🔞 "

Author's Note: 🔞 SMUT WARNING NO MINORS 🔞. Did a fan au of what if Francis became a cop and made it into a one-shot you're in for a quite of a ride. Thank you all so much for the support of my previous fic more Milkman content on the way X ❤️

~1965~

You smile everytime you see the Milkman passing by delivering fresh milk door to door. You wish that he would talk to you for hours because Francis really did enjoy your company and vent about his stinking dead end job sometimes. You always smile and encourage Francis to keep going no matter how hard things are and by the end of the day Francis did think about you even when he looked at the milk labels all he could think of was your beautiful face.

"Your so helpful Francis "

"I always keep the milk jugs for anything i use and I never throw them out "

"You always bring fresh milk and that's why I encourage myself to drink more especially for my bones"

"Thank you Franics "

After picking up more crates from his job Francis one day is going to ask you on a date but he was afraid of rejection and what would it do for his other job that no one knows about even his all time crush would hate his guts.

Every milkman left for home except for Francis he had to change to a different uniform for the next job either it was day or night and when he delivered milk, he had to be right on time. Francis heard on the walkie talkie that a new doppelganger has been spotted and his job was to eliminate them. Since it was still dusk Francis walked with this long rubber boots heading to his motorcycle that ( SPO) " Secret Police Organization " has offer him to get there faster and people will only know that Francis is a traffic cop in public. Starting up the engine with his leather gloves on the steer he went up the highway wearing his black shades. Wearing all black, a police badge, and a helmet was a perfect way to stay anonymous. A way Francis is able to find these doppelgangers is to pull them over for a ticket or when they are sleeping. Sometimes when they're awake and not paying attention he pulls the trigger from his pistol and of its more then one he brings out his M21 assault rifle unfortunately he also had to take down witnesses.

No rest for the wicked ~ Francis mutters as he gets off his motorcycle, Turning off the engine takes his bag where he has a display of weapons he carries whenever he has to do the job.

Getting ready, Francis places the bullets in the insert place of the gun and clicks making sure it's ready to fire. His target was Angus Ciprianni the local businessman, more of a cyster everytime he grins to make deals with other companies knowing he'll get most of the profits. Another companion he noticed close to Angus were two, Dr. W Afton and Mia Stone, Francis had seen them before but he had restless nights being up from them having sex.

It was more of a quiet night which Francis preferred as he spies on Angus who was putting his folder away and drinking bourbon with him. This was a good time to strike.

Back At Y/N's apartment

You just finished helping a neighbor of yours Mclooy Rudboys who was a retired he kind of look like a little bit of a the colonel from the KFC commercials. You always helped him whenever his son Steven was on airplanes far where his father was at so weather it was lifting boxes or buying things Mclooy needed you're always there to lean a hand .

Well thank you kindly Ms. L/N this was definitely be all for today.

It's always a pleasure, Mclooy, you said, placing the boxes to the other side of the room and using your elbow to take the sweat off your face.

Are you seeing anyone? Mclooy asked sitting on the bed taking his boots off pretty odd for him to say that out of the blue.

Umm no.. not really

Francis is quite an interesting man I tell ya and I'm saying that is because Steven tells me that you would always look at Francis for a while even if he doesn't notice you.

Well I really do like him alot, I'm just afraid of rejection you said lowering your head with your hands behind your back. As Mclooy chuckles puffing a cigar.

Y/N I see you got sprirt, you work hard, you help others like me, and I'm sure if you ask Francis out it wouldn't make you so anxious. Just get a try and I'm rooting for you and him if it works out. Mclooy said patting your back as he lays back reading to get some shut eye

Thanks Mclooy you said with a warm smile having the courage once more. You did want to ask Francis for a very long time even when it came to his work hours but hiding every place where he won't see you can't keep up forever.

I'll see him tomorrow morning you said as you wave to Mclooy closing the door and heading downstairs going to your apartment second floor and went your room and flopped on the bed.

Will he like me… you said tugging on the pillow to get some rest since tomorrow you'll be on the road for a while.

In Angus Apartment

Francis stays silent for a moment as he had the ringing of the girls voice it was Y/N once again. He didn't want this job but how can he keep others like Y/N safe from this contamination of doppelgangers even if he has to kill anyone because witness are forbidden to see unless your a SCO like Francis was.

"Francis your always welcome to come over "

( BOOM)

Opening the door Angus holding his bourbon looks to see Francis aiming his gun but he dodges and and runs out of the run as Francis speed walks. Angus grabs Francis the side of the back punching him and slamming him against glass picture as Francis fights back punching him more and reached out for the gun, Angus used the bourbon bottle to hit Francis causing him to collapse while Angus goes to the door and knocks. The one who open the door was Dr. Afton as Mia who was fully nude stands by his side confused

Angus what the hell happened to you? Dr. Afton said his hand over his head seeing the injured businessman.

Doctor what's the hold up? Mia said pouting tugging on Afton's hand to come back to bed with her

Franics has lost his fucking mind, bastard trying to kill me!? Angus explained using a towel to hold his wound not sooner or later Francis comes in starting to shoot, Mia screams in panic as she sees Afton being shot by bullets ad Francis shots her right in the skull on the bed, Afton makes a rub for it to the exit but drops on the ground when he felt a bullet on his chest not making it. Francis sighs seeing the damage and mess just for hunting down doppelgangers. Using his leather boot he turns to see Francis face more closely, seeing worms coming down. Leaving him like this Francis got on his motorcycle and headed back home had to wash the blood off his uniform and face.

You heard a pair of footsteps coming up to your floor, you decided to get up adjusting the lace nightgown open the door a little to see who it was and you guess correctly. It was Francis but was strange for you. He wasn't wearing his milkman uniform and why would be out this late. You heard your door creek causing Francis to turn his head and come forward to you.

Francis… you said your hands covering your chest a little slowing walking back

Y/N… what have you done. Francis just blur out as he look at the blood dripping down his black leather glove and the fear mixed with guilt upon Y/N's face he wanted to touch her face but his glove hand turn into a fits as he slames the door while you were puzzled and stuttering. This wasn't the Francis you knew it had to be a doppelganger. It couldn't be the real him. You had a hard time managing to sleep so you rest your eyes a little holding a knife close to your chest hoping he doesn't come back in.

FUCK! Francis yelled throwing his empty glass milk jars on the ground Y/N wasn't supposed to look or be a witness now he had to kill her but he didn't want to. Y/N has been the only one who understands him and make him smile and always opens the door for her fresh milk. Francis attend to sleep but in the morning he would have to exterminate Y/N .

Morning

You got up and noticed you kept the knife still all night but your lack of sleep didn't help you move much. You had a strangest feeling that you were being watched or a target. You put on some usual clothes, your heels, and duffle bag because you had to get away, you knew being in your apartment wouldn't be safe. You look at the time the sun was going to rise, grabbing your keys, used a sun hat and glasses to hide your face and added scarf in general locking your apartment door and started to speed run downstairs.

Francis was up cleaning his gun and heard footsteps, putting on his boots, jacket, helmet and glasses he went to next door to your apartment he adjust the knob nothing, so he kicked the door open and you were gone. Francis speed walk down the stairs and got onto his motorcycle to find you.

You were riding in the middle of nowhere full on gas of your vehicle took a few turns and you were the only one on the road. You went to apply lipstick since you didn't had time to make yourself look pretty like you always do every morning. You wish to confess to Francis but now it was more like a huge question mark in your brain.

You look back to see a cop on his motorcycle but he didn't put on his siren which you find odd since most cops turn it on when they follow you all the way. Your fingers curled up with pressure on the steering wheel as the cop got closer. You turn the other way to pull over and turn off your engine.

I wasn't speeding, did I ever pay for a ticket? You thought to yourself millions of questions trying not to panic. You exhale in and out as you see the cop approach your car with a gentle knock on your windshield.

Tap, tap, tap,

You look to the officer waiting and you took a good glance and already you were mesmerized from his black jacket, black leather pants, his boots, gloves and shades why did a anonymous cop like this one was making you feel have heat in between your legs.

Hi Officer, is there something wrong?

Hello Ma'am yes there is, do you know why stopped you? The cop leaning closer as your face was an inch to is making your cheeks turns shades of red.

No you said trying not to get distraction from his unnecessary charm.

You were speeding, and I understand if you need to be somewhere but as a cop I have to keep on check for anyone who breaks the law~ The cop explained placing his glove hand on his chest as you nodded

I'm sorry officer but I don't think I was spreading consider maybe passing through but I didn't go over 50 and above you explain.

License and registration please ma'am the cop answered waiting for you to do your part.

Oh right here you said giving your license to the cop as he took a look but then he look back at you.

I need to see your full face ma'am just to be sure that this is you the cop ordered but you afraid but also didn't want to be put behind bars. You sigh and took the scarf, sun hat and sunglasses revealing your face the cop didn't move for a second.

Ma'am there's no way you could look that… beautiful..( Coughs)

Thank you, you said but then you heard the ringing in your ear that tone of that voice was familiar and he kept saying ma'am most cops do say ma'am or miss but this one kept saying it constantly.

Francis? You blur out as Francis look back in complete shock that you recognize him but he stepped back going back to his motorcycle. As you wait for a while but saw him reloading a gun. You turn back and started your vehicle and immediately drove off.

Ma'am, Ma'am .. Y/N! Francis shouted your name but you were already back on the road. Aggravated, Francis start up his motorcycle and went on the trail to follow and hunt you down like a wolf and bunny chase you down.

You looked around no cars still but look at the back you saw Francis catching up to you pulling out his gun starting to shoot at your window. You swift and swerved your vehicle it was a technique that you're father had taught you when it came to dealing with people coming after you. Francis speed up his motorcycle inches to your window going through the highway and made a turn to a nearby exit where it lead to an factory of mattress and pillows. You yield on your car causing Francis to slide off his motorcycle from the speed and falling. You manage to park your car to open the factory backdoor running around to find a place to hide.

Ugh… Dammit… she's got Spunk in her blood. Francis mumbled as got up from the ground and look at the stains of blood from his cuts and marks when he fell. He spit on the concrete back on his motorcycle and riding again until he found your vehicle parked in a mattress and pillow factory. Francis got off the motorcycle, pulling out his gun heading instead walking in a medium pace looking around the building. He pulled out a flashlight since it was pitchblack investigating around the area he was in.

You were roaming around thousands of mattress and pillows, kneeling down you hid for a while, holding onto your breath as you heard footsteps coming and bullets being fired.

I know you didn't want to me this way Y/N, but now you know, I'm not just your local milkman every fucking day. He said reloading his gun from the bullets falling on the floor as he steps more while looking .

I'm a cop but not the ones your use to, a cop that exterminates doppelgangers and witnesses and unfortunately for you. Francis replied as he pulls off the mattress to see you as you were opening the doors running downstairs and going to a room were there nothing but completed beds ready to be delivered.

Your a witness and I can't let that go. Francis said as he got close as he three his shades off the ground and reveal his face nothing but black eyes and a large smiling mouth he was a doppelganger. You screamed in and immediately felt your arms being grabbed and pinned as you kicked Francis causing his gun to be thrown on the other side. You went to reach it only to have your face being hit on the ground a few times, you used the bag wrapped around Francis bag causing him to choke but he spin causing you to bumper into a few shelf letting go. Francis rip the bag but you grabber onto him using your hands as fits but he just chuckles and put the gun close to your face.

FRANCIS I LOVE YOU, I ALWAYS HAVE, BUT WHY WOULD YOU EXTERMINATE ME!? AFTER ALL I DONE FOR YOU? You said on the verge of tears and face dripping blood with a few cuts. Francis look back for a moment his finger on the trigger but the fact he couldn't believe that you confess to him made him think more.

You loved me? Francis said as he black droppy ink soulless eyes were returning to his normal face the one you yearn for so much and deeply missed.

Yes Francis I don't care if your different and kill doppelgangers but if you even you pull the trigger let just do this.

Francis still had the gun on your head but you lean into him giving him a long passionate kiss causing Francis to hold onto you with your arms upon his black leather jacket shoulder kissing you a little force and tongue slipped in between. Francis wanted this more then over he finally let's go

Fuck it.. I can't take it anymore.. Francis said as he lower the gun, grabbed you by the own throwing you onto the nearby mattress where he got on top your hands pinned as Francis kissed you uncontrollably as you did the same legs spread a little as Francis takes off your top seeing you had no bra with a few whimpers he gently sucked on your nipples, nice, perky and perfect to rest his face on.

Your nipples were made for me, perhaps one day I could milk them in my private time when I deliver my daily milks door to door~ Francis cooed as he wip the salvia from his bottom lip and sucked slowly on your neck, your fingers dangled around the leather for a grip and hear the rubber sound tightened whenever he hit your sensitive spot making you moan.

Ahh… Francis.. oh Francis..ahh you said having a hard time with words because everything Francis did was pleasure and indulgence. You felt his glove caressing your hair with his lips getting more sloppy with yours as he let's go and unbuckles his pants while you were hyperlating as Francis look back at you

So beautiful, yet so delicate, you want this cock inside your wanting slit~ Francis said teasing his cock rubbing in your entrance making you bit your lip in between

I might have to warn you darling ~ I like to go pretty rough~ think you can take this cop's cock hmm~ Francis as you were on the urge to just let him be in

Please Franics, do it already….I need you

What a lovely answer darling your such a minx~ Francis replied as he slammed his cock in the bulb of your entrance making you jolt as Francis holds you down with his leather gloves inside your mouth to keep calm as he starts to thrusts inside your wet hole.

You like that baby~ Fuck you're so tight, should have done this a long time ago~ Francis said slamming more of his cock back and forth you felt so horrible about fucking a doppelganger but you needed sex and the way this Francis made you so wet you just wanted him. You gagged in between words from the fingers inside your mouth as he pulls out he slams more of his lips into your lips.

Francis..ahh… yes..ahh haa…you said with your eyes rolled back as you manage to get his jacket off and top feeling his fit muscular body slapping to your body with the two of you hold on as Francis pick up the pace.

Ahhh ahh ~ you kept saying feeling your inside being tear painful yet but the pleasure really made it more enjoyable the mattress rocking back and forth.

Fuck….fuck I'm close…I'm going to cum inside you need slut and you're going to take every inch of me~ Francis said as he held onto the bed frame saw the mattress was already sticking with cum and lipstick marks.

Please yes, please Francis ahhhh~ You said in between your head back with Francis hair a mess slamming in more and more as he made a loud groan when he felt the cum dripping down your pussy with the wave of lust finally released.

Fuck Y/N~ you were incredible Francis praise as he leans into to kiss you more softly a little aftercare.

Francis… please stay with me… you said with your nude body cuddling up to his with your face hiding against his broad chest as he sighs his fingers caressing your hair and his other hand holding the edge of your palm

I'm not going anywhere darling Francis replied with a warm smile which made your face flushed pink since you haven't seen Francis really smile that much. It felt so inviting and he was really open to you.

The two of you rest in the mattress where you both made love with your liquids around of course both of you have to clean up your mess after a few hours of resting.

End~

[haganezukawaifu]

Rosa Dolce Chapter 1

Before we start, if you haven't read Rosa Dolce on AO3 yet, here are some things you want to know. I would like to say my OC is a person of color. She is black as I am black. This is her point of view, in first person and this is her story. I hope you all enjoy it and without further do, let's begin. All rights belong to Stephine Myers. I only own Christine Anderson, my created character, and her storyline. Christine Anderson

~ Masterlist~ Next ~

"La mia dolce rosa."

I heard as I began to look for the voice. I found myself in a place that I had no familiarity with. I took a step down the hall, and I saw a portrait on the wall. I wandered the hall until I stood in front of a door. What is behind this door and where does it lead to? Just when I was about to reach out.

"Christine."

I woke up at the sound of my name. "We're almost there." Where am I? Oh right, Cordelia said that we were traveling somewhere but never told me where. So here I am sitting in the back, waiting for my destination. In the passenger seat sat my brother Anthony listening to his music no less. 

"Where are we going." "Well, I have a friend that I would like you to meet. I think you might enjoy meeting her," she said as she smiled. I don't know if I would like her or not. Cordelia is my foster mother. I was in a home since I was four years old and now, I am six years old, living with Cordelia and her son.

'We must be going somewhere far.'

The location was farther than I expected. I had never seen Cordelia drive this far out before in California but soon we turned in and I felt the car stop. We must be here. Cordelia shut off the car and Anthony got out first, then Cordelia and then me. We were in a park...I held her hand as I followed her to the entrance. A short brown-haired woman and a girl who looked just like her were waiting at the entrance.

"Renée. Nice to have you here," Cordelia said with a smile. The woman name Renée gave a welcoming smile in return. "Thanks for inviting me. It would be a pleasure for my daughter to have some friends," the woman name Renée said. Then I saw the girl that was beside her holding her hand.

'She looks to be about my age.'

"Bella, this is Cordelia. A teacher I work with at the school. And this little one right here is Christine. She's the same age as you," Renée introduced us. A girl name Bella said, "Hi." So, she is the same age. I wasn't used to meeting other kids my age. I was always around older kids in the home I stayed in but once I got adopted, it was just me, Cordelia, and Anthony. 

"Christine. Why don't we enter inside, and you and young Bella can explore and play?" Cordelia suggests. I grip her dress and look up at her. "But Cordelia." "It's okay, she won't bite. If anything, we would be with you," the woman’s name Renée said with a smile.

I didn't know if I should believe her, but Renée seemed trustworthy. So, If Cordelia trusts her, I guess I can too. I walk toward Bella as we both walk inside and to the playground. As I got to know Bella, we became friends. We like almost the same things. We both did ballet and she did piano. We hung out every chance we got together but our friendship didn't last long. Soon after Bella moved to Arizona and I moved away from California, Cordelia opened a flower shop in Forks, Washington. "Aphrodite Garden" she named it. It wasn't a terrible place actually; the shop was pleasant to be around but the weather in Forks was sometimes humid in a way. I hate how it makes my hair frizz. Soon I began to help around the shop, it became the most fun place to be around. Upon turning 14, Anthony left home, leaving Cordelia alone with me. Now I am 17 years old, in my junior year of high school. I'm in no after-school clubs, play any sports, and rarely have any friends here in this boring old town. I just spend my time at Aphrodite's and reading literature. I guess you can say I spend so much time there that people at school start suspect that I'm a witch. Ironic, isn't it? Occasionally, I would daydream and return to that place I always return to. Sometimes I can hear them even when I-.

"Christine."

I looked up and found Cordelia calling my name, holding a spatula in hand, and wearing her 'Plant Mom' Apron. I must have been daydreaming again. "Are you okay? You'll hardly touch your food." I think I hardly eat anything nowadays. "How was your sleep? Did you sleep well?" She asks. I can hardly even sleep. My dream always begins to become like that place that pulls me in every night. Same hallway. Same portrait on the wall. Same door. And that same voice calling me as they are longing to see me as I am to them. 

"Christine."

"Hmmm." "Is there something on your mind? Are those kids bothering you again," she asked. "No. I'm fine Cordelia. Don't worry. I can handle myself." Cordelia sighed as she walked toward me and held my hand. "Promise me you will tell me if something bothers you," she said. "You know I will. I must go. I'll make sure to be by the shop earlier to help with the batch order."

I stood up and grabbed my bag and keys and walked out. I headed toward my black Prius hybrid (I own a Prius but it's gold but yeah) as I unlocked it and got inside, started it up, and began my route to school. Cordelia never really wanted me to call her 'Mom.' Only because when she adopted me, she told me it wasn't necessary yet. To call her Cordelia instead as I always have. Soon I made it to school, turned into the lot, and parked my car in a designated spot. As soon as I got out, I grabbed my bag and went inside. Keeping my head down and walking toward my locker in an attempt to avoid one person in mind. But.

"Hey there Enchantress."

I sighed and looked to my side, and it was Mike. I rolled my eyes in annoyance "What is it, Mike."

'It's unfair enough I share English with him.'

"Rumor has it that one of the measuring cylinders exploded during Bio. You wouldn't have anything to do about that," he said as he leaned right by my locker. "If I did, you wouldn't hear it from me. Besides it wasn't my cylinder." I continue to browse my locker getting my books for class. Trying to get out of this conversation. "Are you sure? You didn't cast any spells before class, right," he asked smirking. I slam my locker door shut as I turn to look at him. "Go away. Don't you have better things to do than annoy me?"

I walk off with books in my hand as I run my hand through my curly hair in frustration. Why so early in the morning? He has annoyed me since the school started. Like God, what will it take for him to leave me alone? I walked into my English class, and I saw Mr. Mason was on his computer. I saw the classroom was rowdy as ever. I walked to my usual seat which was at the back of the class and put my things beside my chair. I sigh. English. One of my favorite classes. Reading literature is one of my favorite things of mine. I blame my brother Anthony for that. He would read every book he could get his hands on and sing to me. Oh, Anthony.

'I wonder what he’s doing now.'

Suddenly the bell rang, and a girl came inside that I had never seen before. She had brown hair, and ivory skin and didn't seem like someone who would play sports despite the sports jersey she was wearing. I wouldn't tell. She gave Mr. Mason a paper and stood there. I don’t think I ever have seen her before besides my usual classmates like Rosalie, Alice, Mike, and Eric. The last bell rang, meaning everyone must be in their class; Mr. Mason closed the door as the classroom continue to be busy.

"Alright class. Settle down," Mr. Mason said.

The class fell silent. “Okay, Ms. Isabella Swan. You can see in the back,” he said as he motioned her to sit down. Wait, did I just hear that right? Isabella. Swan. Do you mean?

'Bella.'

[farmerlarrry]

Orange Slices (Joel Miller x f!reader)

masterlist | chapter twelve | chapter eleven | read on ao3 | playlist

story summary: A story about finding companionship and love in the midst of chaos.

a/n: I read a few books and remembered how to write again :) Sorry for being gone for so long. I will be doing a huge revise of the whole story, just because I had planned on doing that all along… and of course I kept putting it off and before I knew it I was almost 15 chapters in, so between the time of posting this updated and chapter 14 and writing chapter 15, just keep in mind that I did not go MIA again, I am working on updates. I'm going to try to get chapter 14 up tomorrow!

**I wrote this at work so if there’s typos, I’m sorry. I tried my best to catch as many I could and I get so eager to post**

word count: 9005

if you want to be notified when I post new chapters, follow @farmerlarrrylibrary and put on notifications! If you'd rather be tagged, just let me know.

Chapter Thirteen

Fuck, fu–ck, you incoherently hear. The distant sound of someone’s voice draws you out of your state of sleep. Your eyes gently flutter open, eyelashes brushing up against your under eyes as you take a deep breath in and tensing your body up as a way to somewhat stretch your limbs due to the limited space offered by the couch. Must’ve been a part of a dream, you think as the silence makes your ears ring, your eyes darting around at different spots on the ceiling.

A fleeting feeling of intense nausea comes over you, as it does most mornings after you drink. You let a small moan escape past your lips as you run your hand over your stomach; you hate the feeling that you’re about to vomit more than anything. Rolling over onto your side, you nuzzle your face against the back cushion and pull the thick woven blanket further up your body to bask in the remaining warmth. The cold weather arrived early this year, leaving you shivering throughout the nights. 

The longer you stay cuddled into the cushions of the couch, the comfier and more relaxed you become, your limbs now feeling like puddles of liquid.  I’ll get up in a few minutes, you think to yourself, allowing your eyes to become heavy, not fighting your tiredness any longer. The swirling colors that the dim lighting of the room curated behind your eyelids begin to hypnotize you back to sleep.

That is until a loud thud comes from somewhere inside your house, causing you to shoot up from your lying position, still clutching on tightly to the blanket. Panic washes over you and your heart is beating faster than it has in a long time. You have your eyes locked on the staircase, straining your hearing for any indication where the noise may have come from.

God damnit, the quiet but gruff voice of a man causes you to quickly turn around toward the kitchen, more muttering follows, but you can’t quite make out what they’re saying. Just as you begin to take a small step forward, Joel pops up from behind the counter, tossing the paper bag filled with coffee grounds on the surface. He is very visibly frustrated, letting out a soft sigh. You find yourself to be somewhat confused, shifting your eyes just past him; the cabinet door is slightly ajar and two mugs sit side by side on the counter. 

As his head comes past the edge of the counter, the two of you immediately lock eyes, widening at your presence as if he were surprised. You’re in my house, you think. You toss the blanket onto the couch, only breaking eye contact for a few short moments. Joel’s mouth opens slightly, however nothing comes out. 

“You scared me,” You say quietly, yet relieved. Your heart still feels as if it were beating outside of your chest. 

“Shit, sorry,” His words came out as mumbled, resting his palms flat against the edge of the countertop and leaning his weight into his hands. He looks down for a moment, letting out a breath of air as you come around the back of the couch, situating yourself across from him. “I was tryin’ not to wake you.” 

Joel appears to be slightly embarrassed by the current situation, his cheeks very subtly stained pink and he’s rubbing his thumb over the laminate countertop. As the two of you continue to stand there, you can’t help but feel confused; confused as to why he’s in your house, not that you’re upset by the fact– just confused. Although, who knows what you potentially said to him, after James left, the last thing you remember is finishing off the bottle of alcohol while Joel quietly sat at the table across from you, babying the small glass he ended up pouring himself. You cringe at the thought.

“When did you become so… domesticated,” You say dryly, meaning it as a joke, jutting your chin towards the mugs, going up on your tiptoes to see the coffee ground that laid messily in a pile in the ground. It was hard imagining Joel as anyone other than who he’s shown you; a man who will kill to survive– do anything to survive– not someone who brews coffee in the morning for himself and his… whatever. 

Joel follows your gesture, bringing his hand up to his chin, rubbing it gently with his thumb and forefinger. You cock your head waiting for his response. Although you intended it as a joke, you were still curious. This wasn’t typical Joel, not the one you knew, or at least not the one you thought you knew. 

“Was tryin’ to make some coffee before we head out, but I hit my head on the cabinet door and dropped the grounds,” He followed up, gesturing first to the cabinet and then to the loose coffee grounds that were still scattered on the ground.  Joel drew some air before continuing. “I changed your kitchen light by the way, the one that kept flickerin’, nearly gave me a damn headache last night.”

“Last night?” You furrow your brows, the mention of it brings you a sense of impending doom, your stomach twisting up in knots. Closing your eyes, you let out a huff of air. “Right, last night.” 

Your voice sounds muffled. 

With your eyes closed, all you can see is tJames’ face and the way it changed from his sweet smile to a look of utter dismay. You feel guilty for lying to him and you thought that by drinking you could drown out that guilt, but now it’s the next day, you feel even guiltier and you feel like shit. This time, you’ve dug yourself into a hole you weren’t quite sure how you were going to get yourself out of. What do you even tell James? Sorry, the sudden return of a man who, for some reason, I cannot get off my mind and makes my heart flutter like it never has before, caught me off guard so for the time being I’m just going to tell you to fuck off. Please just give me some time and space while I figure things out. No, absolutely not. If it had been anyone else besides James, maybe. 

“Take these,” Joel breaks you out of your thoughts. He’s sliding two pills across the counter and then fills a glass up with water from the sink. “Maybe a shower will help too, you were pretty messed up when I left last night.” 

You let out a small hum, picking up the pills from the counter and throwing your head back, swallowing them at once. Joel continues to watch you carefully, running his eyes all over you. You raise your eyebrows at him, which seems to snap him out of some sort of daze. He clears his throat, turning to the now boiling percolator.

“I got our assignment today,” Joel says. The realization he is returning to patrol makes you happy, something you had been secretly hoping would be the case.

“The hunting sheds,” the two of you say in unison. Joel gives you a single nod, pursing his lips. You simply stare back at him.

The hunting shed was one of your least favorite assignments. It’s fairly easy other than the fact you’re out all day, climbing up and down steep hills. It’s more so tiring than hard, but it’s something that obviously must be done to keep the security of Jackson up to par.

“Yeah, hope you’re ready for a full day of fun,” His tone is sarcastic. You can tell he is definitely not looking forward to it either. 

You give him a very obvious fake smile, letting your palms drag along the counter as you turn to head for the stairs, desperately hoping this shower will be your saving grace from how horrible you feel. 

–

You take the steps downward slowly as you dry your hair with the already damp towel, only stopping for a brief moment on the bottom step when you see Joel sitting at the table. He has one of his ankles propped up on the other leg’s knee, a mug in one hand and the other is holding up one of the old newspapers you always leave on the table. He seems to be engulfed in whatever he’s reading, his eyebrows furrowing as his eyes dart across the page, reading it line by line. The massive stack of newspapers that were once neatly stacked on one end of the table are now messily strewn about.

Quietly, you come up from behind him, glancing down at the paper and running your eyes along the bolded article titles. This one you know particularly well after the many rereads you’ve done. September 13, 2003; Community Development Plan Completed, building is to start November of this year!; Jackson Men To Complete 2,350 Mile Kayak Trip, 2,050 Miles down with 300 Miles to go! A part of you wondered if they ever did complete their trip, and did they come back into town to the infected, or how exactly that all went down. 

As you pass Joel, your elbow grazes his bicep, causing him to jump, likely startled by your sudden presence; neither of you say anything. The chair he’s sitting quietly squeaks as he shifts his weight, while you make a beeline directly for the stove. As you reach for the mug Joel set out for you, he clears his throat, causing you to glance at him over your shoulder. 

You let out a small hm, prompting him to spill whatever is currently on his mind before turning back around.

“You read these often?” he says, the paper crinkling as he folds it back up.

“Most mornings… gives me something to do,” you respond dryly as you slowly fill your mug, stream rolling off the top and the moist warmth hitting the bottom side of your chin. 

“Seems like a lifetime ago.” He says in a small voice. The statement is so simple, yet seems loaded. 

“No kidding.” You say softly, you’re not even sure if he heard you. 

You turn around to face him with your mug in hand, giving him a tired look while you run your fingers across the tattered edge of the countertop with your free hand. There is no denying that you feel like shit. The shower didn’t help and you are almost positive the coffee isn’t going to do anything either. Your exhaustion must be obvious because Joel is looking at you sympathetically, carefully watching you as you stand leaning against the edge of the countertop. Taking a sip of your coffee, you look at him through the rim of your mug, the two of you meet each other's eyes. Joel quickly looks away, sitting up straighter in his chair and setting the newspaper down on the table. He lets out a deep sigh, using the wooden surface to push himself upright. 

“I’m gonna go get the horses ready to go,” He says while walking over to the sink and setting his empty upside down, then pulling a thermos out from the side of his bag. “Meet me at the stables in 15 or so… will that be enough time for you?” 

You nod your head, pulling your lip in between your teeth as he turns and walks toward you. 

Placing his hand just above one of your hips, you take a few steps to the side, to which he steps where you were once standing. The feeling on his fingertips against your side makes your stomach jump and you have to fight against your instinct to shiver. He fills his thermos with coffee, you staring at him, watching his face. He glances at you, you can see his throat bob as he prevents the percolator from dripping down the side of his container. The air is still. Your eyes dart down to his bottom lip which he is toying at with his teeth. Your heart begins to thump loudly in your ears, he’s making it hard not to imagine what it’d be like to be the one toying with it for him.

“I’ll see you in a few,” he says awkwardly, and you give him a shy nod.

The moment Joel leaves, you can feel your body relax, letting out a small huff of air. You mindlessly gather different supplies, making sure you have a lunch packed. As you’re doing so, you let your mind wander, how you were going to handle things with James, now that Joel is back. It feels wrong to continue things with James, especially when he’s not who you want– he was never who you wanted. 

Whether Joel feels the same way, doesn’t factor into your decision. 

–

The air is quite a bit chillier than you expected. This year the cold weather has come early, something that sort of threw the community for a loop. The town square is always already filled with people by 6am due to the increased workload in the gardens, making sure everything can be harvested before the cold gets to it. Today was no different, you could hear the bustling of the townspeople the moment you took a step out from your house. The murmurs make your ears buzz. 

You’re messing with the floppy straps of your backpack that always find a way to twist, not quite paying attention as you come out of the side pathway that separates your part of the community and the townsquare. When you finally look up, you immediately notice James and Joel and they are very obviously arguing. People start to slow down as they pass by them, confused as to what could possibly be going on between the two men. You are wondering the same. Did James say something to Joel? Would Joel really be that upset about something like that? You think, slowing your pace. You can feel your eyebrows draw together, your teeth clenching down hard. 

As people pass by, leaving an opening for you to look through, you then notice Nessa standing a few feet behind James as well as Tommy engaged in what seems to be a pretty intense conversation based on his active nodding and hardened facial expression with Maria. You feel your heart sink into your stomach. Continuing your slow pace, you observe the loosely formed group.

Nessa and you catch eyes, a fire is burning behind her eyes, before walking over to Tommy, tapping his shoulder, and gesturing in your direction. In unison, the four all stop their conversations, turning to look at you. They each hold a different facial expression. Joel appears to be heavily annoyed but his look softens when the two of you make eye contact, James looks nervous and mildly perturbed, Tommy’s usually cheery expression has been exchanged for an outright stressed one, and Maria looks concerned yet confident as always. The range of emotions make your stomach churn. 

As soon as you and Tommy make eye contact, he lurches forward, quickly approaching you with his hands stuffed in the pockets of his worn jeans. You stop in your tracks, hoping he can give you the run down of exactly what the fuck is going on. 

“You’ve been doin’ your patrol alone?” He doesn’t waste time asking, his voice is hushed not wanting the other around to hear. He places his hands on your shoulder and blocks you out of the view of the others. His usual kind, soft eyes are now intense and dark. 

Fuck, you think to yourself, parting your lips ever so slightly, not quite sure what to say. You kept Tommy in the dark about this, not wanting him to worry and honestly, it was better if he didn’t know. You explicitly lied when he would ask you about patrol or when you’d tell him peculiar stories about the events that happened out on patro, usually pulling someone’s name out of thin air whoever was your partner for that day. 

“James came to Maria this mornin’ with some concerns about you,” Tommy adds, anticipating your response, desperately hoping that James’ accusations aren’t the truth, or at least not the whole truth. His expression is pleading, darting from one part of your face to another.

As soon as James’ name rolls past Tommy’s lips, you dart your eyes over to him, who quickly tips his head down toward the ground, completely avoiding you. You can feel your face feel with heat which only makes the throbbing in your head to worsen, and chaos begins to brew in your chest. Fucking James. 

“Tommy,” you say, sounding outright guilty and round your posture. Sweat begins to pool in your palms, soaking into the strap of your bag that you were still tightly holding onto. He lets out a disappointed sigh, shifting his eyes past you. 

“Jesus Christ,” He says breathily, slightly shaking his head. He begins to knead his fingertips into your shoulder blade, taking a moment longer to think. You stare at him blankly. “Okay… we’ll figure this out, just tell Maria the truth, I’ll see what I can do after that… but she is not going to like hearing this.” 

“Yeah,” you say quietly in defeat, looking down at your feet before looking back up at Tommy. “I’m sorry Tommy.” 

When he finally looks back at you, he gives you a pitiful smile, one that quickly fades. Sliding his hand back between your shoulder blades, he guides you over to the rest of the ground. Nessa is still giving you a deathly stare, which annoys you because a few days ago the two of you were fine, you were laughing together over some old memory from your time as school girls. What changed so suddenly? 

You can see her mouth move, saying something just quiet enough to where you couldn't hear her with you still being a few yards away. Joel’s face twists up, twisting his upper body toward her. Don’t fucking say that, his voice is unmistakable, and so is the harsh intent behind his words. She’s very clearly biting her tongue, fighting the urge to shoot something back at him, but before she can make the decision to respond, Joel turns away from her, chewing on his bottom lip. You can see the anger boiling inside her as she sticks her tongue in her cheek, shaking her head. 

As you come up to the group, she scoffs, storming off into the opposite direction. 

“What’s going on,” you ask. Your body is facing Maria, but you keep your eyes fixated on James who still won’t look at you. 

“James’ had some… concerns regarding your patrols, would you be able to talk in my office? Me, you, Tommy?” Maria responds cooly, her tone seems hesitant yet confident. You’re sure this must be an awkward thing to do, the whole he said, she said situation. You force yourself to swallow against the lump of anger in your throat. 

“Of course,” The annoyance you feel hangs heavy onto your words as they come out of your mouth.

You glance between James over to Joel and you begin to follow Tommy and Maria. His eyes are intense and you notice the quick rise and fall of his chest. 

“I’m coming too,” Joel’s voice is loud as he tightens his grip around the bottom of his pack straps, taking a step forward towards you. A few community members who remained to watch, exchanged looks between each other.

Maria lets out a heavy sigh before turning around. 

“If he’s going, then I am too,” James quickly adds. You know he doesn’t actually want to be there, but if Joel is going then he must too. You roll your eyes. 

“Neither of you will be joining us,” She says firmly. “James, you already told us your concerns, I will speak to her, get her side of things and then I will handle it from there. And Joel… you haven’t been here, so I’m not quite sure why you are concerning yourself with things that you would have no idea about.” 

You slowly shift your attention from Maria over to Joel, who is clenching his jaw. He’s looking at Tommy who refuses to look back, kicking at the dirt and rocks with his hands back in his pockets. When Joel realizes he won’t be getting a response, he quickly turns on his heel, giving you an emotionless look, and heading towards the entrance of the community. James is quick to follow, tailing closely behind Joel. 

“C’mon,” Tommy juts his chin in the direction of the main building, reaching his arm out towards you.

–

It’s been a while since you’ve last been here. Everything remains the same, even the old dried flowers that still sit on the table between the two chairs in the center of the room. The morning glow illuminates the room with a warm glow, however the air is chilly. You have your palms resting on the rounded ends of the arms of the chair, slowly rubbing the back and forth. Maria and Tommy are standing in front of you; Maria is upright, her hands clasped together in front of her while Tommy is leaning against the edge of the desk with his arms crossed and shoulder slightly slouched. Even though you know both of them quite well at this point, it doesn’t stop you from feeling inferior, especially in the given situation. 

“So, what’d he say,” You impatiently ask, your tone portraying your emotions very clearly. You already knew, but you wanted to know exactly what he told Maria. 

Maria glances over to Tommy who returns with an awkward smile, unfolding his arms and pointing at himself. She gives him a single nod before he pushes himself upright, clearing his throat. 

“Well, he came to Maria this morning, while we were talkin’,” He starts, “said he’s concerned– you haven’t been following the protocol or proper guard etiquette…”

He trails off, looking at Maria through his peripheral view who is waiting for him to continue. Her eyes are focused solely on him as if she were urging him to go on, silently supporting him through this tough conversation. 

“He said something about you goin’ out, doing patrol by yourself,” Tommy finally finishes, a wheeze of air escaping past his lips before continuing, “‘n that he was concerned for your safety.” 

You let out an amused scoff, shifting your weight in the chair. Concerned with my safety, his excuse was laughable. You knew exactly why he was doing this and it wasn’t his concern.

“I didn’t call in yesterday, I’ll admit to that, because I get it… it’s my responsibility to do that, and it slipped my mind,” you say, your throat burning as you speak. “But he’s known what I've been doing for months.” 

Maria purses her lips and nods, walking over to the chair next to you and taking a seat. You turn your body towards her, waiting for her to say something. 

“And that’s concerning for me, knowing that I've put him in charge and he’s allowing that,” she simply says. It was hard to read her calm demeanor, something that made you feel anxious. 

You look at Tommy through your peripheral vision, he appears to be somewhat confused, staring at Maria. 

“He also said you’ve been staying out late, sometimes the entire day,” she continues.

You can feel your nose twitch at the mention of you staying out past your patrol, you force yourself to slightly smile, although you know nothing will cover up your initial reaction. Your breathing becomes shallow. You’re completely done for. There’s nothing Tommy can do that will save you from being taken off patrol. You knew the chances, but you never thought James would be the reason you were caught. Your brain is racing with thoughts, trying to come up with something in response that may cover your ass. 

Maria cocks her head and raises her eyebrows slightly, encouraging you to say something. Your mouth has gone dry. Time’s up, you think, letting out a small shaky breath. 

“There’s an outlook I go to somedays– well, actually, most days,” Your voice is small. “I go there after I’m done with patrol, after I call in, and I just… think, I don’t know, I just do whatever.” 

A feeling of embarrassment comes over you as you admit to your whereabouts. Telling them about the outlook feels shameful, and not for the reason that you aren’t supposed to be doing stuff like that. Them now being aware of a place that you connected with Joel through in absence made you feel sick, even if they don’t know that’s the reason why you went.

Tommy and Maria exchange looks again, this time her eyes softening. 

“I know I’m not supposed to be doing that, I know it’s dangerous going out by myself, I just…” You say with your head hanging low. “When I’m out there, it’s the only time I feel like myself.”

Mmm, Maria quietly hums. 

“About what happened at the dam–” She starts to say.

“Maria…” You abruptly cut her off, something you normally wouldn’t do, but you couldn’t listen any longer.“I don’t know what James told you, but I do my job. I do it exactly how I was taught and doing it by myself does not change that. I promise you I did not see anything out of the ordinary yesterday, otherwise I would have reported it the moment  I saw it.” 

You stare intensely into Maria’s eyes as you speak. It was the truth. You were good at what you did, whether you were alone or with someone else. Always being ready to go, ready to defend, ready to fight, to give your life if need be– it was all you knew in this new world, and you were good at it. You hadn’t made it this far on pure luck, anyone with a brain would know that. A one time mistake does not make that statement untrue and James all of a sudden coming forward with his concerns also does not make that untrue. 

You can feel the anger creep its way up your throat as you think of James’ pettiness, how all of this was because Joel was at your house last night. Sure, you can agree that lying to James about having plans was wrong, but it didn’t make it right that he did this in response. How childish, you think.

The sound of Tommy clearing his throat pulls you out of your deep state of thought. Both you and Maria shift your attention to him. 

“Maria, if you don’t mind, I was just thinkin’... with Joel being back,” Tommy says with a slight hesitation. He knew he shouldn’t be making any sort of suggestions without discussing with her first, but then again he promised he’d do everything he could to keep you out of trouble. This is him risking that to keep his promise to you. “There’s really no reason to punish her, ‘specially if James was the one allowing this, she took it as permission– him knowing, ya know… at least that’s what I assume. Her and Joel can just continue patrol together, then we take the rest up with James.” 

You can feel yourself exhale in relief at his suggestion, a part of you slightly surprised by him throwing James under the bus. Regardless of Maria’s decision, you were grateful for Tommy having your back, proof that the two of you really are as close as you thought. The two of you carefully watch Maria as she contemplates his suggestion, her eyes glaze over as she thinks.

She gives a slight nod to Tommy, who glances over to you, giving you a short lived smile before you turn your attention back to Maria. 

“You and Joel, never just you and never just Joel, is that clear?” She says, giving you a serious look. “Make sure you call in after every patrol, I do not want to hear any of this it slipped my mind nonsense again.” 

“Yes ma’am,” You respond affirmingly, sitting up straighter in the chair. “I promise.” 

“And you’ll be sure to pass that onto Joel?” Maria directs to Tommy as she rises from her sitting position.

“Yes, of course,” He says.

–

Tommy stayed back to have a few more words with Maria, telling you that he would be just behind you to talk to Joel. Don’t let him leave without talking to me first, he requested. You’re moving your legs as fast and they will allow you to move them, knowing your already long day has become even longer due to heading out so late now. On top of that, the animosity you now felt did not help with your headache and queasy stomach.

With the stables now in view, you see James standing out front by the wooden gate with Nora and a couple of the other guards. He’s using one of his arms to prop himself up as he leans against one of the wooden posts. Since you saw him earlier this morning, he’s had a complete mood shift; he’s laughing, his cheeks rosy with glee, his eyes soften as he jokes around with the others, lighting hitting the back on his hand against one of the men standing to his side. Seeing him like this, thinking he succeeded in his plan to get you in trouble, makes your heart skip a beat, a feeling of rage quickly taking over your rational thought. You begin to charge toward him, taking bigger and longer strides. 

The moment he sees you, the blood drains from his face as if he has just seen a ghost. His jaw tenses up. Perfect, you think. The closer you got to him, the more you struggled to keep the newfound deep hatred for him from exploding out of you..

“What?” You yell out to him, charging straight for him with blurred tunnel vision. “You surprised to see me?” 

Typically, you are not the confrontational type, but James crossed the line by going to Maria; putting the one thing you had that kept you sane on the line. Your anger hit a boiling point seeing him act as if nothing had happened and you didn’t care who heard what or who would be caught in the crossfire of it all. 

“Get ready to head out, I’ll be right behind you guys,” He quickly says. Nora and the others give you a conflicting look almost as if they were confused by your brashness towards James.

“Oh, that won’t be necessary,” You say to them, shifting your attention onto James when you are finished. There’s a bite in your tone that has made everyone in hearing distance stop in their tracks. “I didn’t get taken off of patrol duty like he wanted.” 

James’ face drops at your announcement, his face twisting up. He’s shocked– shocked that his plan did not work. Seeing him like this was priceless, though the only thing you wanted to do was shove that confused and wide eyed face of his into the horse manure that was scattered around the stable grounds.

“You didn’t?” He says quietly, staring at you with furrowed brows. You couldn’t miss the surprise in his tone. 

Your anger cools for a second and you take a step in closer, crossing your arms and looking up at him through your browline darkly.

“What the fuck was that about?” your words come out shakily as you try to act calm and collected. Your breath feels like it's coming out in flames. This was just meant for him to hear, you hushened your tone so no one, not even the shadows of his companions, could hear.

“I was concerned,” His tone is monotonous, not breaking eye contact with you. His chest was heaving at this point as he struggled to control it. 

“Bullshit, James,” You practically hiss through your teeth. “You’re telling me this has nothing to do with Joel last night?” 

His eye twitches at the mention of him showing up at your house. You can see his throat bob as he struggles to remain apparently unaffected. 

“You lied to me,” he says slowly. “Lied about you and Nessa, lied about you and–” 

“What’s goin’ on?” Joel calls out, coming out of the stable with Callus in hand. He gives you a look of concern before handing off the horses’ lead to one of the stable workers. James scoffs, gesturing towards Joel with one of his hands, giving you a sarcastic smile. His eyebrows are raised halfway up his forehead to tell you that he didn’t even need to say exactly who he was referring to.

Just as you open your mouth to speak, you feel someone rest their hands on your shoulders, lightly squeezing them, almost an nonverbal way of telling you to stand down. It’s Tommy, and he’s shaking his head, urging everyone to drop this. You chew on the inner flesh of your bottom lip, contemplating your choices. Narrowing your eyes, you take one step forward, Tommy’s hands now slipping away from you.

“Fuck you,” You whisper to James as you brush up past him, your shoulder firmly knocking into his. One of the stable workers opens the gate for you, giving you a firm nod as you pass by. 

“Yeah? Fuck me?” he responds, now raising his voice in a way you’ve never heard from him before. “After everything I’ve done for you, for being there for you– now he’s back you’re just going to pretend we–” 

Just as you begin to turn on your heel, Tommy cuts in and takes complete control over the situation.

“Hey,” Tommy shouts in a stern tone, cutting James off before he can finish. “Drop it, now. Maria would like to speak to you, tell your friends to go to the North tower, see if they need any help there today.” 

James looks dumbfounded by Tommy, almost offended by him obviously choosing sides. He remains standing at the post for a moment longer, staring at the ground with his hands kneading at his hips, before turning to face his friends. You could hear the unmistakable sound of his voice, unable to make out what he was saying to them with the distance you created. 

You watch as Nora starts walking back towards the main part of the community while the rest aren’t shy to hide their dirty looks from you. Initially, you didn’t care that much, not entirely bothered by their hateful stares, but it still somewhat hurt deep down inside of you. As angry as you were at James, it hurt you that this was how he thought to get back at you; how intental the damage that would have been caused if it hadn’t been for Tommy. Not being able to take the group’s lingering looks any longer, you drop your head to stare at the ground anticipating their departure.

“By the way, Charles has been wondering where you’ve been– Dot and Henry too,” James calls out from the other side of the gate. Now he’s the one who doesn’t care about who overhears. “Never quite sure what to tell them.” 

“James,” Joel growls. 

James head shoots in his direction, his reaction directly influencing Joel to take large strides over to the where James stood, the only thing separating the two is the rotting wooden fencing,  something that could easily be bypassed. Tommy immediately comes between the two serving as another barrier, placing his hand on James’ chest. James swipes at Tommy’s arm. 

“I’m leaving, damn,” He says quietly, giving a deathly glare as Joel and then you. 

Callus nudges at one of your shoulders from behind causing you to turn, James’ look burned into your mind. You’re doing everything you can to stop your lip from quivering, running your hand down the smooth snout of the horse which has come to comfort you. Joel returns from the fence, quickly fixing your twisted strap on your backpack. You can feel him staring at you from your side, but you keep your eyes forward, avoiding his gaze– afraid of what might come out of you if you were to look at him. Last thing I need is for everyone, especially him to see me cry, you soothe yourself, desperately holding onto what's left of your ego.

Tommy has now joined the two of you by the entrance of the main stable building, forcing you to face the two men now. Joel takes a step closer to you, your arms brushing  up against each other. 

“You know this already,” He says to you before fixing his eyes on Joel. “You two stay together, no one does patrol alone… I mean that, Joel.” 

Tommy glares at him until Joel acknowledges what he says. Joel gives a simple, single nod which causes Tommy to finally release a long breath of air, his chest very visibly falling. 

“Okay,” He says in relief, returning back to his normal self. “We’re still doing dinner tonight right?” 

Mhm, Joel hums along with a nod, his hands are stuffed deep in his pockets. 

“I’ll meet you there, ‘round 7,” Tommy replies. “Be safe.”

He gives your arm a reassuring squeeze before exiting through the stable’s fence gate and returning to the main part of town. Joel and you are left standing there for a moment. You aren’t quite sure what to say and by Joel’s expression he isn’t quite sure either. 

“Everything okay?” Joel is the first to speak, his tone somewhat dry. 

Is everything okay? You mock him in your own thoughts. You want to roll your eyes, instead opting for a blake stare. You pass him, heading into the stables to start helping the others where were in the process of readying Lucky. 

– 

Without exchanging any deciding words, you took the lead for today’s assignment. As per usual, leaving the horses at the old worn down barn that was treated as a halfway point between the community and the treeline that led to the dense forested area. The anger from the events of this morning clung onto you fiercely and no matter how much you tried to push it away, it clung on tighter. 

Joel was caught in the crossfire of these events. You weren’t mad at him, but that didn’t stop you from taking it out on him no matter how badly you didn’t want to. Between leaving the front gates to now, Joel tried to talk to you, tried making conversation. You're going to be warm enough with just that, he asked, gesturing to your hoodie tied around your waist. All you could get yourself to do in response was shrug your shoulders, not caring enough to even give him a second look. 

“I came over last night to talk to you about somethin’” Joel says, the words coming out weak through his tired breathing. Initially his words piqued an interest with you, but that faded just as quick as it came. “But-uh, didn’t seem like the right time once I was there.”

“And right now is?” You responded just as breathily. The never ending steep hill seems to have taken a toll on you– both of you.

“I’d rather get it over with, good time as any, I suppose,” he says, pausing as if he were waiting for you to give him the go ahead to continue. You felt like you had already given him your answer, letting him decide whether he wanted to go on or not. He cleared his throat before speaking again. “About what happened the day I left…”

“Jesus Christ,” you mutter under your breath, quickening your pace, trying to let Joel fall behind to avoid talking about that. Perhaps on any other day, as uncomfortable as it would have been, you’d be willing to talk about it, but not today… not in the state of mind you're currently in. “There’s nothing to talk about, Joel, I misread your intentions and… and it's been a year. We have a job to do, so let’s just get it done.” 

“That’s not–” He takes a deep breath, letting it out forcibly as if he were annoyed. “I tried stopping by your place before I left.”

“Stop,” you say with a bit more bite than you intended.

“I don’t want you to think–” Joel pressed on, truly determined to say whatever he wanted to say. 

“Stop it,” you spit. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does now that I’m back,” he raises his voice to talk over you. “I want to make sure–”

“Make sure we’re good?” you interrupt him. “We are, so drop it.” 

The two of you come to a stand still. Joel’s chest is quickly rising and falling, his cheeks stained pink by the energy required to climb up the steep hill. A breeze picks up, sweeping Joel’s longish hair over his eyes; he pushes the strands out of way, still holding eye contact with you. 

Taking a deep breath as a way to cleanse your mind, an attempt to shake off this anger you feel, you begin to head up the hill again. This time slowing your pace to allow Joel to keep up without exerting himself too much. You both still had a long day ahead of you whether you wanted to be there or not. 

As silence ensued, Joel finally accepted that no matter how hard he tried, you did not want to talk to him that night. Although you didn’t want to talk about it, it didn’t stop random thoughts from popping up in your mind. You couldn’t build up the courage to make one particular thought known, to ask him the burning question that haunted you since he left. 

Joel managed to make his way to your side, his presence startling you from your deep state of thought. He didn’t say anything, just tightening his grip on his shoulder straps and giving you a quick glance. His jaw clamped shut. 

“Were you planning on leaving before…” You stop prematurely as the words rushed out of your mouth, the burning in your chest disappearing the moment you let the words enter reality. A shaky exhale escaped past your lips. Why does it matter, you questioned your own words, if he says no, then what? What does it change?

A nasty feeling overcomes you when he doesn't react, not even looking up from his focused stare at the ground. Nothing? You think, your throat begins to close in on itself.

“Let’s just get this done, I’m tired and my head hurts,” you say, your heart feeling like it shattered into a million pieces.

–

After your little spat with Joel neither of you speak  for a long while. A few task related words had been exchanged, but nothing beyond that. As the day ran longer and your mind returned to a neutral state, you felt bad for how you treated Joel. You felt bad for taking out your problem with James on him. 

“Sorry I was mean earlier,” you say quietly, picking at the sandwich you brought for lunch today. “Just the whole thing with James, you know?”

“You’re okay, darlin’” Joel says, the words coming out of his mouth smoothly, sending a blanket of warmth over your entire body. “James does that to people, I would know.” 

You force yourself to smile, although the guilt of how you treated him earlier when you were still seething with anger continued to eat at you.  

“Take this,” Joel added, causing you to look up from your food which you had balanced on one of your knees. He pulled out a neatly folded flannel from his backpack. It turns out that the hoodie you brought was in fact not warm enough, and between your shivering body and your chattering teeth, it must’ve been obvious. “You’re makin’ me cold just watchin’ you.” 

You mutter a small thanks to him as you meet him in the middle, taking it from him without any rebuttal or hesitation. As you slip your arms through the baggy sleeve, Joel’s smell engulfs you. Your heart flutters, quickening its pace, and your stomach twists into a knot. A smell that you couldn’t quite describe beyond comforting and one that warmed to the core, more warmth than any jacket could offer you. 

“You said you had some stuff to wrap up in Boston” you ask, trying to continue the conversation from earlier and receive some sort of answer from him. Your mouth became dry as you chewed slowly on a small piece of stale bread. “What’d you have to do?”

“A friend, her name’s Tess,” he begins, his words coming out slowly. You remember Joel mentioning Tess once before, a long time ago. “I’ve known her for a while– met her on  the road with Tommy after the outbreak happened.” 

“I remember you mentioning her,” you say, carefully watching his expression for any changes.

“Yeah, she’s-uh badass… real badass,” he responds, his eyes lighting up. Not good, you tell yourself as a feeling of jealousy washes over you. “I wasn’t planning on being gone so long, but she needed help finishing up some deals, tried convincin’ her to come out with me, but she wanted to stay, so…” 

You could see a hint of smile as he spoke about her and then a bit of sorrow at the end. 

“You love Tess?” You remember asking him before if they were together, a part of you wondered if that had changed between then and now.

The question catches him off guard. 

“No,” He immediately shoots back, his face twisting into a complex expression you couldn’t quite read. “No, no… it’s not like that. We’ve been through a lot together though, and– and I guess sometimes that has blurs the lines a bit.”  

You didn’t know how to respond to that so you let the conversation come to an end. The faint song of birds soon fills the air giving you something to listen to as you think over his words over and over again. He doesn’t love her but he feels something for her, you think, the jealousy stabbing into your stomach repeatedly. 

“I don’t mean this in a…” He starts, stopping a moment to think, “are you sure Nessa’s your friend?” 

The mention of Nessa amidst all of the mess Joel witnessed this morning provokes a laugh from you. You have to bite your lip in order for you to stop and answer his inquiry.

“After this morning, I have no idea,” You tell him nothing but the truth. “We were friends a few days ago. What’d she say?”

Joel shook his head, his eyes lowering to his hand which had been fumbling with the edge of a paper bag that held the jerky he brought along.

“C’mon,” you egg him on. By his reaction, you knew it had to have been nasty and knowing Nessa, you weren’t surprised. You knew how she could get, the things she came up in her mind to say about people who crossed her the wrong way. Though, you never thought you’d be in her line of fire.

“It doesn’t matter,” he shook his head again.

“Why are you protecting me?” His resistance causes you to become annoyed. “First with James, now this.” 

“James?” He says almost as if he had no idea what you’d been talking about.

“At the stables,” You try to cool your tone, now trying to come off nonchalant. “When he tried to provoke me about Charles and his kids, and even before….”

Joel scoffs, a sense of embarrassment hidden behind it. 

“I’m not protectin’ you, I– I–” he stammers and throws the half filled paper bag onto the base of his bad. “It doesn’t matter what she said because it wasn’t true.”

You force down the rest of the food you brought along, not necessarily because you wanted to but more so because it gave you something to do while Joel sulked. The usual Joel that you knew too well returned, and he became standoffish. You didn’t pay much mind to it because something told you that his little mood swing wouldn’t last, so all you could do was wait it out. He put up with my mood earlier, I guess it's only fair if I do the same, you told yourself, stealing glances of the slouching  man sitting adjacent from you.

Joel suddenly his throat, catching your attention.

“What do you do when you aren’t on patrol?” His words came out dry, but seemed genuinely curious. 

You let out a puff of air. A whole lot of nothing, you thought and what you wanted to tell him. Nothing important or worth talking about. 

“I drink with some friend,” you state simply, letting your voice falter on the last word. Joel picked up on your intonation of friends, narrowing his eyes.

“Friends?” He nearly mocked you perfectly. “Who?” 

You have to bite your tongue from letting out a small giggle. He should get a kick out of this, you think. 

“Don’t laugh,” you say, looking at him through your browline, a small smile appearing on your face. “I spent quite a bit of my evening with Heather and Aimee, Drew too… and Nessa of course, that whole group.” 

You very specifically left James out of that out of spite, but you were sure Joel would include him as he was a part of that group. Joel, of course, laughed, nearly choking on his water that he just took in from his canteen.

“I told you not to laugh,” You broke out into a smile as Joel wiped his mouth clean from water and saliva. “Besides, there’s not that many people to choose from.”

“There’s enough people to not choose them,” he quickly rebuttal in a joking tone. You just shrug, mainly because he wasn’t wrong. “I’m assumin’ James is apart of that mix too.”

“Yeah, James is there too,” Your face drops. At least he was, you added just to yourself, Or at least I was, you corrected yourself knowing that the gang would choose him over you in any instance, including Nessa.

“What happened between you two?” He asked genuinely, cocking his head to the side as he studied you. “Is he your–”

“Friend I suppose,” You cut him off desperately wanting him to disassociate you and James as being that. “Just a friend.” You weren’t sure if you clarified for him or more for yourself. “Just some petty drama, hopefully it’s over now.”

That seemed to satisfy Joel’s curiosity because he didn’t press any further or ask more questions regarding your friends.

As you pack up your things, now in a much merrier and less hangry mood than before lunch, you catch Joel watching you. Not watching you in a way that he had in the past. It was almost as if he were stuck on you, unable to peel his eyes off of you even if he wanted to. The shift in the air made butterflies form in your stomach at his consistent attention, you tried to ignore it until you couldn't. The two of you lock eyes as you meet him at the base of a rocky ledge.

“What?” you softly ask as you unbunch your many layers of clothes under the straps of your bag.

“Hm,” he half-consciously responds as if he didn’t entirely grasp onto what you just said.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you expand your question further, causing him to blink quickly a few times as if it were bringing him back to the present moment.

“Like what?” he frantically darts his eyes along the ground, furrowing his brows.

“Like–” you begin to say, but the words are stuck in your throat, unwilling to be heard. With your heart fluttering, you continue. “Nevermind.”

But regardless, you saw it in his eyes. 

You saw it.

–

By the time the two of you make it back, the sun has nearly fully set for the day. Your legs hurt, you’re tired, and you’re hungry. The staff who had been there when you left had now all gone home leaving you and Joel to put all the equipment and horses away for the night.

“You hungry?” Joel asks, grunting as he picks up one of the saddles to be put away.

“Very” you drag out the word, letting the exhaustion fill the word entirely. 

“Why don’t you join Tommy ‘n I for dinner,” His voice is quiet, slightly nervous sounding. “Goin’ to Jackson BBQ, best BBQ in town.” 

“It’s the only…” You begin to say, your exhaustion not allowing yourself to pick up on his joke, only stopping once you realize.

He gives you a slight smile which causes you to stop for a moment and take in his offer.

“I– I don’t want to intrude,” You say quietly, though you want to say yes a million times over. “I know how much he’s missed you, so…” 

“He admitted that?” Joel asks with a smirk, wiping his hands off on his already dirty jeans and taking a step in front of you. 

“Not in those words, but…” You smile, lowering your head to hide your face. Joel lets out a hearty laugh. 

“Well, I want you to come,” He follows up with a laugh still lingering in his voice. His emphasis on want made you flinch, not in a bad way, but his directness catches you off guard. When you finally look up from the ground to look at him, he’s eyeing you nearly identical to when you had packed up after lunch. Your breathing hitches. “He won’t mind.”

Joel adds the last part after a few moments of silence between the two you, the soft neighs of the horses and rustle of the wind fill in the spaces.

You draw in a deep, slow breath; the cool air burning your lungs.

“Okay,” You finally agreed.

read chapter fourteen here!

painting divider | credit: @cottage-writings

[vintagelacerosette]

Tag game Tuesday ✨️

(Done on a Wednesday) Made by the always effervescent Macy @celestialmickey & I was tagged by these moonbeams 🌕 Ling @lingy910y Evie @energievie Jay @surviving-maybe Kaka @stocious Coalie @shinygalaxyperson Molly @deathclassic Howl @howlinchickhowl thank youu ❤️

Name: Myn/Shermyn (pronounced as main 🩷)

Age: 26

Pronouns: she/they

Tell me about one of your hobbies: Love hate relationship with drawing bc I can be a perfectionist & bodies & faces are hard 🥲 Also I drew mostly anime girls when i was younger, so drawing my mlm ships had been a challenge for me 😅

What languages do you speak? English & itty bit of tagalog (sidenote it's pronounced as tah-gaah-log not taga-log😊)

One of your comfort movies:

Mama mia I would sing along with that movie all the time 😆

Do you have any kids? do you want any? Honestly it's a maybe. Idk ir just has to be the right condition like financial stability & maybe the right partner

Cold weather or hot weather? Hot bc I like to swim

You're at an amusement park. what ride are you going on first? The ones with the story/lore with it that gets you all immersed

What's your go-to hairstyle/how do you wear your hair most days?

Alternates between down & flowy & half ponytail

Who was your top artist in your spotify wrapped/apple music replay in 2022? Fall Out Boy some of their songs gave me some gallavich band aus

You’ve just been handed $1000 but you have to spend it on clothes. where are you shopping? Selkie puffy princess dresses galore ✨️

Wireless or corded headphones?

Wireless while out & about! But I got these cute light up pink cat ear headphones that give me a wire option too 🩷

Finally, tell me something that sparks joy:

Getting my pride gallacrafts/Molly's dtiys finished! I had an idea in my head how I wanted it to go, but it wasn't coming together at first. I took a break, and then the deadline was coming, so I had to hussle. I was still working on it morning of Molly's deadline, while on the way to work 🤣 It's a piece of art that I'm very proud of & I know it's not perfect by it sparkles a lot of joy & I hope it does for y'all too! That's what I've always wanted my art to do 🥰🌈

I'm tagging these cutiepies if they wanna play 💕 @scarcrosseduntouched @ian-galagher @heymrspatel @gallawitchxx @whatwouldmickeydo @squidyyy23 @mikhailoisbaby @creepkinginc @suzy-queued @gardenerian @xninetiestrendx @lalazeewrites @sisitrip @sleepyfacetoughguy @psychicskulldamage @depressedstressedlemonzest @darthvaders-wife @7x10mickey @gallavichgeek @chicanomick @good-then-dont @michellemisfit @deedala @beebabycastiel @mmmichyyy @crossmydna @milkmaidovich @mikcrymilkovich @shameless-notashamed @sickness-health-all-that-shit @arrowflier

[south-of-heaven]

The BRE x reader

There’s a really bad storm going on and the reader hates storms so the BRE comfort her

When it rains, it pours || The BRE x Reader

Summary: You don't like storms, neither does puppy. You two end up home alone in the middle of one.

You're used to the sunny days and warm weather of Florida, but when storms hit, your anxiety flares up. The booming thunder and fierce lightning make you uneasy. Today is one of those stormy days, and you find yourself alone at home, with Puppy, during the worst part of it.

As the rain pelts against the windows and the wind howls outside, you clutch Isys close to you, feeling her trembling against your chest. It breaks your heart to see her so scared. You're scared too, and you wish your partners were here with you.

Unfortunately, they're stuck in the heavy traffic caused by the storm. You try to keep yourself distracted, turning on some calming music and attempting to comfort Puppy, but it's hard to shake the fear gnawing at you.

Finally, you hear the sound of the front door opening, and relief floods your body. You peek out from under the duvet to see Shayna, Charlie, Jess, and Mia walking in, soaked from the rain. Your heart swells at the sight of them.

They immediately sense your distress and rush over to you. Shayna and Charlie crawl under the covers with you, wrapping their arms around you protectively. Jessamyn and Mia join in, forming a comforting circle.

"You're safe, babe," Shayna murmurs, her soothing voice like a balm to your nerves.

"We're here now, you're alright" Charlie adds, her fingers gently stroking your arm. It sounds like the words are directed at both you and the dog.

Mia's soothing words mix with the sounds of the storm outside, creating a cocoon of reassurance. "We won't let anything happen to you."

Jessamyn leans in and presses a soft kiss to your forehead. "You're not alone, hon. We're all here for you."

Feeling their warmth and love surrounding you, you start to relax. You jerk a little when Stannis hops op on the bed but let out a breath of relief when you see his little face bumping against Mia's arm.

The storm may still be raging outside, but inside this cozy haven with your partners and your dogs, you feel safe. The comfort of their presence helps to ease your fears, and you know that together, you can weather any storm that comes your way.

[faithisyours]

Lyric Break

Copa x Fem Reader

Warnings: Mostly fluff but there are insinuations of smut, not proof read

Summery: you find Copia in his office laboring over lyrics and decide he needs a massage to relieve his tension

Word Count: 1.7k

Also I wanted to say that this is my first fanfic ever so if you don’t like it you don’t have to tell me 🫶 I’ve been a fan of Ghost for a while now, but finally decided to start writing stuff about them. I’m also a fan of Sleep Token, so I might start writing stuff for them, too. If you want a part 2 then I guess let me know. I decided to write this because I’m taking an English class and we keep talking about fan fiction (like full on conversations about different fanfics and what books came out of it, which I love, honestly). You can request stuff if you want but I might not have time to write it. Thanks for reading. Hope you enjoy :)

“Satan damn it”

You were walking past Copia’s office on the way to the library to return some books when you heard his cry of frustration. You stopped walking, curiosity getting the better of you, and turned to his office door, which was slightly ajar. You knocked softly, not wanting to startle him.

“Come in.” you heard him say, still with a frustrated tone. You peaked your head in, unsure whether or not you should be intruding. He was leaning over his desk, which was littered with crumpled pieces of paper, his face contorted in irritation. But then he looked up at you, and a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

“Cara mia. Come in, come in, please.” He leaned back into his chair, pushed his hands through his hair, and let out a long breath. You stepped fully into his office now, still unsure weather you were intruding or not.

“I’m sorry to bug you Papa, I just heard your frustration and wanted to make sure you were alright,” you say, making your way over to his desk.

You and Copia had been dating for a few months now, but you both decided to keep your relationship on the down low so as to not allow the ministry rumor mill to twist it into something it’s not. His role as Papa was delicate right now, and dating a sister of sin for someone in his position was risky. Dating someone of his position for you was risky as well. But you never felt like you were his dirty little secret. Your relationship was good, better than good. You were starting to fall for him, and he for you.

“Si, Si, I am bene, dolcezza, I just cannot seem to get this lyric the way I want it.” he sighs, looking down at the paper he was laboring over when you first walked in.

“I see. Can I help with anything?” you ask, walking over next to him to read what he’s written so far. You slip your hand over his shoulder, wanting to feel a little closer to him. You love touching him, feeling his body heat beneath your skin.

“I do not think so, mi amore. Our Dark Lord will have to help me with this one.” He pats your hand that rests on his shoulder.

“Well, is there anything else I can help you with? You seem a little tense.” You rub your thumbs into his shoulder blades gently, assessing his tension. He's knotted up, his muscles tight underneath your thumbs. “My love you are tense. You have been working too hard, pushing yourself too much. Here, come with me. I know what you need.” You take his hand, pulling him from his chair, and start marching out of the room. He stands but does not move any further. You feel his resistance, and look back at him over your shoulder.

“I have work to do, dolcezza. I cannot just leave. Especially for that,” he lifts an eyebrow at you, attempting to imply that he thought you mean sex. “I am also not in the mood.” he states, dropping his hand from yours.

“My love, that is not what I am offering.” You turn to face him, picking up his hands. He has his gloves on, like he always does when he is working. You have a love-hate relationship with those gloves. You love the cool touch of the leather on your skin, but at times you would much rather feel his warm, calloused skin. This was one of those times. You look up into his mismatched eyes, and you can see how tired he is.

“Just come with me, it won’t take that long,” you assure him. He sighs, looking down at where your hands hold his.

“Okay, but I cannot be gone for long. You know how Sister Imperator gets.” He gives you a stern look, imitating Sister Imperator, which makes you giggle.

You pull him through the halls of the ministry, making your way to your rooms while also trying to be inconspicuous. There are many siblings out in the hallway this time of day, and suspicions do not need to be raised about why Copia is following you to your rooms.

You make it to your rooms with minimal suspicion. Pulling Copia through the door quickly, you make sure to lock the door behind you. You press a quick kiss to his cheek, then make your way to the bathroom. You rifle through your lotions, trying to pick one that isn’t overly scented, and once you’ve acquired what you’re looking for, you exit the bathroom and go set the lotion on the bedside table.

Finally you turn your attention to Copia, who is looking slightly confused and still a little irritated. You make your way to him, giving him a smile that says you are determined to make him feel better.

“Okay, take off your shirt,” you tell him, and start pulling his shirt up to reveal a patch of bare skin. Before you can expose more of him, though, he grabs your hand, stopping you.

“Mi amore, I thought we agreed to none of that.” he arches a brow at you.

“We did, and that's not what I’m doing. Just trust me, Okay?” you give him an assuring smile. He concedes, taking his shirt off, and throws it over to a chair in the corner. You can’t help yourself. You ogle a little. You love his body, and his happy trail looks especially good today, but that is not what you are here for.

“Okay, now lay down on the bed, on your belly,” you instruct him. He shoots you another questioning look, but says nothing. He gets into position, and you follow, getting onto the bed and kneeling next to him. You press your hands to his lower back, making sure he knows you're there. You then lift a leg over him, so that you are straddling his hips, your butt resting on his butt.

“Is this okay, Love?” you ask him, wanting to make sure he's comfortable. He nods his head, finally understanding what you’re doing. You could have told him you were planning on giving him a massage, but you wanted it to be a surprise.

You reach over and grab the lotion off the nightstand, squeezing some into your hand. You work it over your hands, warming it up, then start on Copia’s neck. You gently but firmly press your hands into his skin, making sure your movements are slow. You dig your thumbs in just a little more in spots that are really tight, wanting to work Copia’s knotted muscles out fully.

You slowly move down his back and over his shoulder blades. Copia has closed his eyes now, and his breathing has evened out. You would think he was asleep if he wasn’t making noises every once in a while. It started with a soft whimper, barely a whisper past his lips, so quiet you thought you had imagined it. But soon, as you worked your hands down his back, his noises became more frequent. Some came out quieter than others, some came out as groans, others wimpers if it was a sour spot, and of course, the occasional moan. You smiled to yourself, taking these noises to mean you were doing a good job.

You worked your way down his lower back, then up to his shoulders and arms. You stayed quiet the entire time, wanting this to be as relaxing for him as possible. But eventually you ran out of places to message, and reluctantly stopped your movements. This got his attention. He picked up his head and turned to look at you, his eyes full of content and drowsiness.

“You are done, mia cara?” he asks over his shoulder.

“I am, Papa,” you confirm. He nods his head, and you move to un-straddle him, getting off the bed. You go and put the lotion back in your bathroom, and when you return, Copia is sitting on the edge of the bed. His shirt in his hand. You walk over to stand in front of him, taking his face in your hands, and admire how his eyes are now glittery with content, any trace of irritation or tiredness gone.

“That was lovely, grazi, mi amore.” he looks up at you, caressing the hand that is on his cheek. You give him a smile, then lean down to press a kiss to his lips. Your forehead presses against his, staying there even after the kiss ends, matching your breathing to his, and soaking up this moment. He pulls away first, clearing his throat.

“I do have a little bit of a problem though,” he states, which gives you a quizzical crease between your eyebrows. Before you can ask what the problem is, he stands, and that's when you see it. He’s hard. You press your hand to your mouth in an attempt to sequester your giggles, but it is no use. You look back up at his face, which is now covered with guilt, embarrassment, and a little bit of amusement.

“Do you want me to fix that for you?” you ask him, raising an eyebrow and giving him a cheeky smile. He looks at you, defeated, shaking his head. But a small smile dances across his lips.

“Mi dispiace, cara mia, it’s just that your hands were all over me and it felt so good and your hands were so warm and…” you cut him off with a kiss, silencing his ramblings.

“It’s alright, Love. You also weren’t the only one getting turned on. The noises you were making were quite something.” You state the truth. Both of you are blushing, sharing small touches, which turn into longer, more confident touches.

Looks like Copia will have to work on lyrics tomorrow.

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

Here, Kitty, Kitty (18+ Fic)

Pairing: Aizawa x Black!Catgirl!Reader

Synopsis: In which you find yourself in the weirdest predicament after you’re scooped up and taken to a cat cafe after you decide to take the streets to fight some crime, and you’re adopted by your very anti-social and hot coworker Aizawa aka Eraserhead.

Story Warnings: Smutty smut, 18+ (MINORS GET AWAY), Swearing, Adult!Reader, Ear and Tail Stroking, Light Degradation, Spanking, Exhibitionism, Multiple Positions, Creampie, Unprotected PIV Sex, Facial, Scent Play, Collaring, Deepthroat, Cunnilingus, Begging, Edgeplay, Power Play, Rope Play/Shibari, Master Kink, Some Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Some Action

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Writer’s Note: I decided to drop the last five chapters to this story at once cuz I'll be EXTREMELY busy with my summer job & I'm also working on a new fic. Thank you all so, so, soooo much for the love on this story! I had so much fun writing it. I'll be writing some brand new shit soon! Stay safe! -Jazz

Read on AO3 here!

Other Chapters: One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen. Eighteen. Nineteen. Twenty. Twenty-One. Twenty-Two. Twenty-Three. Twenty-Four. Twenty-Five.

*************

TWENTY-TWO.

As May turns into June, the first week is rainy, cloudy, and depressing–the perfect weather for how you feel on the inside. 

You sit in your office now, dressed in a silk black blouse and slacks that make your ass look like it’s the finest one in the world. However, you don’t take pleasure in that or the fact that today has been pretty slow. You haven’t had any student traffic or other responsibilities, so you’ve had time to sit around, eat snacks, and nap if you want to. 

But you don’t. Instead, you busy yourself with building your schedule for next week. You sit at your desk with your planner, writing down any errands you have to run or meetings you’ll have to attend. An unopened bottle of iced coffee sits next to you–the one thing that will keep you running until lunch comes in an hour.

Outside your window, the cherry blossom trees tremble slightly as the storm wind rushes through along with the pitter-patter of rain. You hope that it won’t be like this when you leave today. You just hate water. 

A knock on your door stops you short of writing down that you’ll have to make a grocery run next Saturday morning. Nemuri stands there in a slim navy blue dress that fills out her curves and her glasses perched on the bridge of her nose. For the past week, she has been visiting you with snacks, drinks, and encouragement. Though you appreciate it, it hasn’t been working much to turn your frown upside down.

“Hey, you,” she gently coos. “Mic and I are goin’ out tonight to the Hot Spot if you wanted to join us. Rumi and You will be there too.” 

The sound of a night with the pros drinking and dancing doesn’t sound the least bit appealing to you…which definitely means something is wrong. Usually, you’d jump at the chance to spend a Friday night out, but even the idea of putting on your sexiest attire and dancing the night away makes you tired. 

“I’m good, ‘Muri,” you reply, giving her a reassuring smile. “I need to work on my schedule for next week anyway. I’ve got a lot to do.” 

Nemuri nods, but you see the disappointment in her eyes. You advert your eyes from her face, instead looking back down at your calendar where you scribble down “do laundry” for Sunday. You hear her come into the room, her heels clicking as she does. “Mic and I have been missing you,” she softly says. “You’ve been MIA for a minute now.” 

You don’t say anything. You cap your pen and push your calendar away before taking out a manilla folder for student reports. At the end of every month, you’re required to jot down notes on students’ progress for their teachers and parents, just to let them know how they’re doing. Nemuri leans against your desk, frowning as you uncap your pen to begin writing on Bakugou Katsuki’s report. “You’ve been working hard for the past week, honey. Why don’t you take a break?” 

You sigh tiredly, shaking your head. “These student reports aren’t gonna write themselves, Nemuri. Not to mention I have parent and staff meetings next week and…” You stop talking, something in you telling you to do so. You look up at Nemuri who is wearing a saddened expression on her gorgeous face. “What?” you sigh, already knowing the answer. 

“Have you talked to Aizawa lately?” she timidly asks you. You scoff to yourself. She already knows the answer to that: no. You haven't even seen the man. You’re starting to think he was just a figment of your imagination with how quickly he seemed to disappear from school. You barely see him in the hallways, elevators, or cafeteria. He hasn't called, but neither have you. After how much you’ve hurt him, you doubt he wants to speak to you. 

And you can’t blame him. With how long you've been lying to him and Eri, you know he never wants to see you again. You don’t even want to see yourself. Every day you wake up and look in the mirror to get yourself ready for the day, you desperately want to shield your face from view. It is the face of a liar. The face of someone who is deceiving and selfish. You barely want anyone to see you at school anymore. You just want to crawl into a hole and never come out. 

You reach for your iced coffee and proceed to try and open the bottle, your fingers grappling with the cap that seems to be stuck. “No,” you reply, not meaning to sound so tight, but you can’t help it. “Why are you even askin’ me that? You know Aizawa and I haven’t spoken since that night he found out about the cat thing.”

And God, does it hurt. All you want to do is hear his luscious voice or see his gorgeous face. All you want is him, and Eri. Those two have completely stolen your heart. But you know you fucked that up. 

Nemuri silently watches you struggle to open your coffee. “He misses you, you know,” she softly says. “I’ve seen him lately and he’s not at all the same as before when you were with him.” Your heart leaps at her words, but they only do so much to make you feel less like a fucking loser. You can miss someone and still know how horrible they are. You’re sure that is how Aizawa feels for you. He may miss you, but you know for a fact that he goes out of his way to call or see you. And you deserve that. 

“Is this what you came in here for?” you demand, glaring up at your friend. “To make me feel bad about what happened? Well, I already do. I feel humiliated and stupid for what I’ve done, but this is the price I have to pay for lying to him.” You grunt in frustration, your wrist straining to open the bottle. “Goddammit, this cap won’t loosen!” you hiss. 

After another short turn of your wrist, the cap finally loosens and pops off the bottle before skidding across the floor with a metal clink! Both of you stare in silence at the cap for a moment, breathing heavily at the short but loud sound and the intensity of the situation. Finally, Nemuri breaks. Soft, sputtering breaths exit her mouth as she begins to cry and you stare up at her in shock. “I’m sorry!” she softly sobs. “This is all my fault. I never should’ve said anything! Now you and Shouta are miserable all because I couldn’t keep my mouth shut!” 

She covers her face with her manicured hands, her shoulders shaking. Your heart breaks at the sight of your best friend crying on your behalf. Especially since none of this is her fault. “Nemuri,” you sigh, guilt flaring inside of you. “No, I’m the one who should be sorry. I shouldn’t be taking my anger at myself out on you.” 

You get up from your seat and move to wrap your arms tight around her. She hugs you back, her tears soaking your blouse. “None of this is your fault,” you comfortingly say. “It’s all mine. I should’ve told Shouta the truth right from the jump, but instead, I was selfish.” You pull away slightly to give her a view of your downtrodden eyes. “I haven’t been doing that well this past week either,” you confess, already choking up. 

Nemuri’s brows knit in worry. “Have you been going out at night?” she asks, her voice low as if the walls have ears. You shake your head as the tears you’ve been holding back for so long begin to well in your eyes. “Not at all,” you answer, your voice breaking. “I have no motivation to do that anymore.” 

Even now your Night Claw fit sits under your bed, untouched and unworn for over a week. You moved it from your hiding place behind the dumpster, not seeing the need in keeping it hidden or outside since you haven’t been in the streets lately. You ignore police sirens at night and anything that comes up on your crime app. You have no interest or energy in catering to your city anymore, especially since the main reason one of its prominent pro heroes was down in action is because of you.

And then poor Eri…how is she handling all of this? First her dad is hurt, and now her furry friend disappears for good? 

You crumble right then, tears dripping down your face that destroy your mascara. “I just miss him so much, Nemuri,” you sob. Nemuri nods, encouraging you to continue to spill your guts to her. “But I can’t bring myself to call him or visit or–”  

“Ah, Ms. L/N!” You both jump, whipping around to see Nezu standing in the doorway. The small smile that plays on his face fades when he glances at your faces. “Oh…am I interrupting something?” 

“U-Uh…” Nemuri quickly snatches some tissues from your desk, handing you some. “Of course not, Principal Nezu,” she replies, respectfully bowing to him and using that advantage to dab at her eyes. “I was just asking Ms. L/N about a particular student I had in here today.” You don’t respond, instead silently wiping the tears off your face. You make a mental note to touch up your makeup later. 

“Oh!” Nezu exclaims in realization. “Well, in that case, I apologize for the random visit, Ms. L/N. I just wanted to check up on you and see how you’re enjoying UA so far.” You blink at him, your brain slowly processing his words. “O-Oh!” you stammer, clearing your throat. You plaster on a smile despite still feeling like shit. "Well, please come in.” 

As Nezu thanks you and walks in on his little legs, Nemuri tip-toes to your office door. “I’ll see you at lunch,” she mouths to you before quickly exiting your office, shutting the door on her way out. You stand there awkwardly, feeling like a hot spotlight has been put on you as you stand with your boss in your office. “Would you like something to drink, sir?” you ask, presenting to him your mini fridge. 

“No, thank you,” he chuckles. “And please, feel free to sit. I just want us to have a chat. You’ve been such a great asset to UA for the time you’ve been here, especially to the students.” You take a seat behind your desk as he hops up into the chair across from you. “Thank you, sir! It’s been a great and rewarding experience working here with the staff and students. I love what I do.” And you’re not BSing. You truly love your job despite your personal problems right now. 

Nezu seems to know this too. “I can tell,” he hums appreciatively. “Which is why I decided to visit because I can tell you’ve been looking pretty low lately.” His smile fades and your stomach drops into your ass. “I’ve noticed it as have others. Though you’re still here and consistent with your work, you’ve been acting differently. You’re usually so upbeat and refreshed, but for the past two weeks, you’ve seemed…down. If it’s too personal, please feel free to tell me so.” 

Your shoulders slump and all you feel is shame. So now even your boss notices your change in demeanor. 

“I’m sorry, sir,” you sigh, internally exhausted. “I’ve just been going through some…personal battles. I’m trying hard to fight them though, so please don’t worry about me.” You plaster on a fake smile that Nezu sees right through. 

“Oh, but I do, Y/N,” he says matter-of-factly. “I don’t think you understand just how needed you are here. The students need someone kind and nurturing like you to talk to about their issues with. The teachers need you too. They can only handle so much! Your personality is such a breath of fresh air too. It’s influenced me, the students, and the other staff members…especially Aizawa.” 

“A-Aizawa?” you softly stammer, your heart fluttering. “I don’t–” 

“I’ve never seen him so upbeat,” Nezu continues wistfully. “He’s almost an entirely different person with you here. He’s happier; more…energetic. I’d imagine he is very grateful for what you did for him and Eri.” His black eyes gleam with something unreadable but it makes your stomach flip flop nervously. “I-I’m sorry, sir, but I don't think I understand.” 

He is more than happy to enlighten you. “Word around campus is that you attacked the villain Toyoma when he broke into Aizawa’s dorm. People are saying you were already in the room and quite literally tore Toyoma’s face off. I know because I saw it for myself.” He leans in as if afraid someone might hear. “I also know about your, uh…night job.” 

You swear you could die right now. Of course, your boss knows that you’re Night Claw. And of course, he’s going to fire you now. You’re going to lose everything. You grip the underside of your desk, your claws digging into the wood. Nezu just smiles. “You don’t have to look so scared, Y/N,” he chuckles. “I’m not upset. Do you know how many of our kids here have done the same thing? Besides, you’ve proven to me that you’re not a threat and still an incredible staff member with how you continue to handle the students’ problems.” 

He leans over the desk to pat your hand, almost as a friend would. “We need more people like you here, Y/N. People whose bright personalities rub off on others. Please don’t ever lose that.” His eyes twinkle with generosity and kindness–two things you feel as if you don’t deserve. “Sir…” You don’t know what to say. You can’t believe this is happening. You’re not going to get fired? 

“I know things may seem hard right now, but if you ever need a hand, we’re all here for you. Just continue to do your best and I’ll take care of the rest, okay?” He winks at you, an encouraging smile on his furry face. “Keep up the good work!” 

You feel as if you just won an award with how bright his smile is. Your claws retract and you release your death grip on your desk. “Thank you, sir,” you softly say, afraid that you may cry in front of your boss. 

“Of course!” he chortles. “Now off to lunch for me! Enjoy the rest of your day!” He hops off of the chair and waves to you as he exits your office. “You as well, sir!” you call, a giggle in your voice when he shuts the door behind him. 

When you sit back in your seat, you feel better than you have for days after getting that praise buff from your boss. It is exactly what you need to put you into a good headspace, just enough to tell Nemuri that you’ll be taking your lunch alone today. You need some time in the fresh air to clear your head and find comfort in yourself while you gather the courage to finally talk to Aizawa. 

So you decide to go for a walk downtown for a bite to eat. You’ve heard of a sandwich shop there that is extremely popular plus one of your favorite cafes being a choice. The air is clean and warm, and the sky is blue when you lace on your sneakers and take your walk. As you make it downtown, people are out and about enjoying the mid-afternoon weather, jogging, walking their dogs, and sitting at tables under cute little umbrellas as they enjoy their meals outside. When you make it to your favorite cafe, deciding to go for some coffee and pastries as your lunch, the outside eatery is already set up with customers enjoying their coffee in peace under the sun. 

As you make your way to the door, your hand outreached to pull it open, you hear the sound of pounding footsteps behind you. You turn, jumping back just in time as someone comes zooming down the street, running at full speed. “Jesus,” you hiss to yourself, glaring at the woman. She is in casual clothes–no activewear at all for the type of activity she’s doing. You pass it off as some kind of running club or her possibly being on some shit. 

But as you go to reach for the door again, another person runs by. Then another. And another. What grabs your attention is their attire: some wearing work clothes; others not even wearing sneakers but still running like their lives depend on it. You and the customers sitting by you stare at them in confusion, baffled by the change in atmosphere. “Da hell?” you mutter, confused. 

You get the answer to your confusion when a man wearing office attire runs by, panic and fear all over his face. “Everyone, run!” he hollers. “There’s a villain five blocks away from here! He’s destroying everything!” As if on cue, the sound of rattling cuts through the air, and a burst of water explodes from a sewer down the street, causing a car alarm to go off. As the water shoots into the air like a bullet, the people that were initially sitting and enjoying themselves beside you leave their posts, following the running people up the street. 

But you don’t. Despite your fur prickling and your ears pointing backward in alarm, you walk straight toward the danger zone. Even when you see more people running your way until you’re nearly trapped in a sea of escaping civilians. You press yourself against nearby buildings and inch deeper and deeper into the city. As you do, the destruction surrounding you gets worse–all you see are cars flipped over, cracked pavement, and water gushing from sewers and broken pipes. Your sneakers become soaked, ruining your stockings. 

The water problem only gets worse when you finally come to the city square and see the bullshit awaiting you. A sea of people and police cars surround a giant, quirk-made whirlpool that protrudes from a sewer in the middle of the street and towers over everyone and everything. From where you stand you can see that someone is, in fact, holding the whirlpool together themselves. A man floats in the middle of the whirlpool like a centerpiece, his limbs and locs streams of water that suck up water from the street, making his creation bigger and stronger. 

In front of you, the police have their guns drawn, some trying to keep the civilians at bay while the rest attempt to get a good angle of the whirlpool. The one closest to you urgently screams into his walkie-talkie, distress in his eyes. “I need backup!” he hollers. “I repeat: I need backup! We’re running out of officers and there’s only so many pros who can handle this asshole!” 

‘Pros?’ you think. So far, you haven’t seen any single pro here. But as someone from behind you pushes you deeper into the crowd, you get closer to the whirlpool. There, in the watery depths of the whirlpool, are eight officers and several pros you know and recognize: Houndog; Vlad; Mirko; Mt. Lady (out of her giant form); Midnight; Present Mic. With that many pros in his trap, you know this villain isn’t someone to fuck around with too lightly. You barely have time to process where this dude even came from when someone is landing in front of you and the other civilians, startling you when his boots hit the pavement. 

You know who it is even before you see his long, black hair and hear the excited screams of the crowd. He turns, giving you a view of him looking oh-so-yummy in his hero gear, goggles, and scarves as the afternoon sun turns his black strands of hair into spun gold. You can’t help it. You immediately begin to push through the crowd until you finally slip through, ignoring the officers that yell at you to stop. “Miss, you can’t go through there!” one of them yells, but you ignore them, too focused on getting the pro in front of you to pay attention to you. 

“Shouta!” you shout, cringing at the squelching sound of your wet sneakers in the street. It is completely flooded, ruining your shoes and sloshing against the hem of your skirt. Aizawa immediately turns around, his eyes widening behind his goggles at the sight of you.

“Y/N?” he asks, baffled. “What the fuck are you doing here?” You winch slightly at the harshness of his tone, but you won’t let it slow you down. You probably would’ve reacted the same way. “I was out for lunch and saw all these people running,” you reply before nodding at the whirlpool and the man at the heart of it. “What is he?” you breathlessly ask, still taken aback by how large and powerful the whirlpool is. 

Aizawa glares at the villain. “Says his name is Aqua Master or something like that. He’s been wreaking havoc with his water quirk all afternoon now. So far, he has over eight officers and several of our pros in there.” He pauses to take off his goggles and pinch his sinuses, his eyebrows creased. The stress of the situation is written all across his handsome face. And with no other pros here yet, he’s the only one here to stop this Aqua Master bitch. 

“Let me help,” you interject. He stares at you like you just told him you’re pregnant with his baby. “You just told me you’re losing people and I’m sure it’ll take a while before you get backup. I can help the civilians evacuate or–“ 

“Absolutely not,” he firmly replies, his expression a hard glare that makes you flush. “This is way too dangerous for you and you don’t have enough training.” You go to argue against this, but you’re interrupted by the sudden water-formed hand that juts out of the whirlpool and scoops up a nearby truck to toss at an oncoming cop car miles down the street. The cop car immediately swerves out of the way only to crash into a street pole and totally ruin the front of it. Aizawa raises his eyebrows at you as if to say, ‘see what I mean?’ 

But you’re not backing down. You don’t care how dangerous this mission is. Toyoma’s mission was dangerous too and you ended up saving Aizawa’s life. ”You let me come with you to get Toyoma,” you sharply argue.

Aizawa rolls his eyes at your attempt at arguing with him. “Yeah, and you almost ended up off a damn building splattered on the pavement.” Your ears droop in hurt at his jab. Though he is right, he doesn’t even know the kind of trauma you faced from that. The nightmares you still have dangling off of that building and the nothingness in Toyota’s eyes.

He must see that he went too far because his expression softens. He sighs, running a tired hand over his face. “Listen,” he says, his voice hushed, “I’d never forgive myself if something happened to you.” He steps away from you and puts his goggles back on, preparing for action. “Just stay in your line, alright? I’ve got this.” 

As he wraps his scarves around a nearby traffic light, he is nearly taken out by a blur of red that zooms between you and him. “Jesus, Hawks, watch it!” he angrily shouts, gripping his scarves. You look up, finding Hawks perched on the same traffic light Aizawa has his scarves wrapped around. He raises his goggles over his unruly, blonde hair, his red wings looking fluffy and soft to the touch. “Sorry, Eraser!” he huffs, looking irritated by the villain and his BS. “I’m dodging this shit as best as I can, but this bitch won’t quit throwing these cars at me!” 

The hairs on your body suddenly rise at the sense of something coming. Your eyes flit to the whirlpool where you find a giant, watery hand reaching for Aizawa. “Eraser, watch out!” you yell, but your voice is carried away by the sound of police sirens and rushing water. Hawks manages to escape by flapping away, but Aizawa isn’t as lucky. You have no choice but to watch as Aizawa’s scarves are yanked off of the traffic light by the hand and he is pulled into the rough currents of the whirlpool. 

“Oh, shit!” Hawks gasps, staring in awe as his coworker is pulled into the whirlpool just like that. “I’ve gotcha, Eraser!” Just try and hold your breath!” He flaps away into the blue sky above, flying above the whirlpool’s opening. There is no way he could get in there without getting stuck too, you realize. The cops won’t be able to get to the villain either without shooting someone. It’s way too risky to fire a bullet into that whirlpool. 

This fight needs someone else…something else. Something tinier. And you know just the thing that can work.

Without another thought, you push your way through the crowd again and you’re spit back out into the clean, cut grass of the city square’s park. It isn’t that far from the villain, but enough to hide away from him and his quirk behind the bushes and trees situated here. You look up and find Hawks perched in a tree, squatting on the thickest branch there. He stares at the villain in determination, obviously trying to come up with a plan until the other pros get here. 

You decide to help him out. Hoisting your foot up on the tree trunk, you grasp the lowest branch and pull yourself up until you have enough leverage to hoist yourself up on the branch. You do the same to the others above you until you are finally on a branch at the same level as Hawks, kneeling behind him. “Hawks!” you hiss, startling him so much that his wings ruffle. He turns around, squinting confusedly at you. “Who the hell are you?” he questions. 

You begin to introduce yourself, but you’re cut off by the sudden heat that nearly singes your eyelashes off coming from behind you. You turn, finding yourself facing the Endeavor, decked out in his hero gear and sporting his aflame moon boots. Your stomach flips in panic at the sight of him. He truly is an intimidating person. “Endeavor!” Hawks shouts as if he’s seeing an old friend. "You showed up! Is anybody else showin’ up soon? Please tell me Gang Orca is comin’.” 

Endeavor ignores him, his green eyes cutting across to you. “Who the hell is this?” he grumbles, scowling at you. You swallow hard, almost afraid to speak, but you won’t let this man catch you slipping. He’s just a human. A person.

“Night Claw,” you reply, giving him a friendly smile despite his hardened stare. “Listen, I don’t mean to interrupt your fight, but you’re never gonna get to that guy if it’s just the two of you. He’s too powerful and he already has one too many pros held up in his trap.” 

Endeavor’s stare only gets more intimidating. “So what do you suggest we do?” he cooly asks. “All of sudden, you’re gonna tell us how to do our job?” 

“Hold up, Enji,” Hawks says, Endeavor’s jaw setting at the mention of his birth name. “Let’s hear her out.” 

You raise your chin and square your shoulders, refusing to be spoken to by the pro. “To jog your memory, I’m the same vigilante who stopped that bank robbery and did your fuckin’ job before any of you could get there. I had them all tied up and ready to be arrested except for one.” Endeavor’s eyes widen an inch at the harshness of your tone––and the balls you’ve got to talk to him in such a way. Hawks snaps his fingers in recognition. “Yeah, now I remember you!” he happily chirps. “That was you? Damn, girl, you must got some serious skills.” 

“Yes, and I know how to use them on this one.” You nod at the whirlpool that has seemed to have gotten bigger. It’s now towering over the tree you’re perched in. “If we can get close enough, we’d need something sharp to destroy that whirlpool, and I’ve got just the thing.” You flash your claws at them, earning a chuckle from the winged hero. “Hawks, I’ll need you to fly me up over the whirlpool so I can jump inside. Endeavor, you’d distract him with your quirk. Maybe turn the water up too hot for him so he doesn’t notice me.” 

Your plan dawns across Hawks’ face. “Ohhh, I see. It could work and at this point, we’re out of options since some of our best are MIA.” He turns to the Endeavor, stroking the stubble on his chin. “What do ya think, Endeavor?” 

Endeavor’s forest-green eyes continue to stare you down, making you increasingly uncomfortable. “You’re a vigilante?” he acerbically asks you. Though your stomach flips in panic at being found out, you nod. “So you’re saying you’re not a trained, professional pro hero? You don’t have a license?”

Again, you nod, your heart pounding against your ribcage. “I have every right to turn you in to the police,” Endeavor growls, his eyes hot with disgust. “And if you continue to stand in the way of my job, I will. Stay in your lane, little girl.” With those words hanging in the air, he floats off toward the whirlpool, leaving a trail of fire in his wake. 

Hawks sighs heavily, looking at you apologetically. “Sorry about him. He’s a hothead, as I’m sure you’ve got already.” But you’re not upset by Endeavor’s words. If anything, they only make you want to snag this villain even more. “I don’t give a fuck about what he says or if I’m arrested,” you determinedly growl as you begin to climb down the tree. “I’m helping my friends whether with help or not.” 

Hawks watches you go, his expression unreadable. “You’re friends with Eraserhead?” he curiously asks. You nod, grunting as you lower yourself down each tree branch. “And Midnight and Present Mic. We work together at UA.” Hawks quirks an eyebrow at this newfound information. “You a teacher?” 

“Counselor,” you correct him before getting back on the subject. “Those three are very special to me and I didn’t fully appreciate how much they had my back until now. I’ve been terrible to all of them, so now I have to make up for my stupid decisions.” When you’re finally at the last branch, you let your legs dangle for a moment before jumping down, hitting a squat once on the grass. 

When you look up, you squeak in surprise at Hawks now towering over you instead of sitting in the tree. He reaches a gloved hand down for yours, his golden eyes friendly. “Then I’ll help you out,” he says with a quirk at the corner of his mouth. “That’s the best declaration of friendship if I’ve ever heard one before.” Your heart leaps for joy, relieved that you have help. With a grateful smile, you take Hawks’ hand and allow him to help you rise to your feet. 

After a moment of getting situated and Hawks advising you to “take a breath ‘cause it’s a bumpy ride”, you find yourself flying in the air with Hawks’ arms securely wrapped around your midsection as he zooms towards the whirlpool. Your heart hammers wildly in your chest and your eyes water as the wind hits them, causing you to blink rapidly.

The crowd of people you once stood in looks like ants now. The cop cars, trees, and buildings surrounding the area appear to be no more than miniature toys with how high up you are. But no matter how afraid you are, you don't dare move or change your mind. Not when your friends need you. 

“Higher, Hawks!” you shout among the wind in your ears. “I need to be directly above it! Damn, can’t your wings go any faster?” Hawks grunts above you, his wings straining against your body weight. “I’mma try but shit, you ain’t exactly light as feather, furry.” 

You don’t need to hear anything else. With one slow inhale, you shift into your feline form in Hawks’ arms. When he realizes that he is now holding a tiny, black cat instead of a whole person, he loses his shit. “Holy shit!” he laughs. “Talk about a quirk!” Now having an easier time flying, he flaps his wings up to the very top of the whirlpool until he is hovering above it. Down below is the hole traveling down into the depths of Aqua Master’s creation, along with your friends and the other innocents trapped in the watery grave. 

“I’m as high as I can go,” Hawks grunts above you. “It’s all on you now, furry.” Without a warning, he releases you and drops you down into the whirlpool, but you’re ready. Inhaling deeply, you shift back into your human soon as you sink into the water. It is not dark as you envisioned, but clear enough that you can see the dozens of bodies the villain collected––including Aizawa. He is farther at the bottom, his scarves and hair floating around him like seaweed. 

Anger floods within you as you swim towards Aqua Master who is still front and center in his whirlpool. When he senses you, he turns towards you, his locs floating around his head in streams of water. He scowls at you, probably wondering how you got in here. “Who the fuck are you?” he asks, his voice rough and clear as day. You don’t give him a proper introduction. Instead, you charge at him and wrap your limbs around him, pushing him against the wall of the whirlpool. 

With one hand outstretched, you extract your claws and slash at the whirlpool’s wall. The little tears are enough to send the entire whirlpool to hell. Water begins to pool out of the tears until the liquid monstrosity is no more. Instead, it begins to pool into the streets, flooding them even more. The crowd below you moves back as bodies, including yourself and the villain, tumble down out of the whirlpool.

You feel like a fish out of water as you tumble onto the street with Aqua Master below you, your limbs still wrapped around him. You gulp down air and cough violently at the water in your lungs, soaked to the bone. Now you hate water even more now. You doubt you’ll be able to properly shower after this without having this come back to you. You’re so involved with trying to breathe normally that you barely see Aqua Master’s next attack until he’s throwing you off of him. With a grunt, you hit the ground on your back, but you don’t have enough time to react. 

The villain is now standing above you, his limbs and hair now in physical form. He presses his foot into your chest, causing your windpipe to close up and your body to fight to breathe. You gasp and choke around his foot which continues to push into your chest, making it much harder to breathe. “Now you’ve gone and done it, bitch,” he snarls. "You really thought you was doin’ somethin’ tryin’ to fight me. Now you’ll die just like the rest of these stupid ass people.” He then kneels above you, trapping you beneath his body, and loops his hands around your neck. 

“No!” you choke only to be silenced by a sudden wall of water encasing your head. You try to scream, but only air bubbles escape your mouth. “Have fun swimmin’ with the fishes, bitch,” the villain growls, his stare cold and deadly. 

This is the second time you’ve faced death by a villain, you realize. You can’t help but wonder how is it for actual pros to face something like this? To constantly be on the brink of death and not wondering if there’s an alternative career path they could take? Your head suddenly becomes light and your eyes flutter, all thoughts and questions jumbled. Your lungs begin to burn and you know that it is only a matter of time until death takes you… 

Only it never does. The water surrounding your head disperses and you gasp in air, desperate for it. Aqua Master is now lying on his side, completely knocked out with Nemuri standing over him. She, too, is soaking wet, her mascara running and curls ruined, but she is still a knockout. You breathe a sigh of relief, mostly at her being okay than being saved by her quirk. “Y/N!” she gasps, stepping over the villain’s body to kneel before you. “What are you doing here? Are you hurt? You could’ve gotten yourself killed!” 

Mic also comes to your aid, his sunglasses off and looking like a wet cat. He offers his hands for both you and Nemuri, pulling you to your feet. “You shouldn’t have gotten involved,” he says in a stern tone that you’ve never heard from him before. “Y/N, that was very dangerous what you just did.” Nemuri nods, glaring daggers at your stupid decision. 

But you just can't feel embarrassed. Seeing them standing there, still caring for you despite your bullshit, is all the confirmation you need to know that you did the right thing. You throw yourself at them and wrap your arms tight around them, squeezing their bodies to yours. “I’m sorry,” you softly say, on the brink of tears. “I’m so sorry for everything. I’m just so happy you’re safe.” After a moment of silence, the two hug you back and Mic comfortingly strokes your hair. “Thanks to you and your crazy self,” Nemuri sighs, pressing a kiss to her cheek. 

As laugh and pull away, giddy with joy and the feeling of accomplishing something impossible. But all of that giddiness fades when you see Aizawa lying face up yards away from you, his eyes closed and chest not moving. “Shouta!” you shout, immediately racing for him. Fear floods inside of you. ‘No…please, no. Don’t take him from Eri.’ 

You kneel beside Aizawa, scooping the back of his head into your hand. “Shouta, can you hear me?” you softly ask, your eyes flicking wildly across his face for any kind of sign of life. As if God hears you, Aizawa’s eyelids twitch once and a tiny groan leaves his lips. “Oh, thank God,” you sob, your thumb stroking his wet cheek. 

His eyes then slowly open, revealing two charcoal irises that stare in a daze into yours. “Y-Y/N?” he croaks out. “Why did you…did you…” He searches your face for an answer, even being soaking wet and nearly facing death. You shake your head, still gently stroking his cheek. “I know you told me to leave, but I couldn’t,” you sob. "I’m sorry I’m so stubborn. I just couldn't face the thought of you being in danger.” 

Slowly, Aizawa sits up, grunting as he does. You move away from him to allow him space to breathe and move, but all he does is stare at you in awe, his plump lips parted. “Y/N, I–“ 

“Get your hands off of him!” The roar of Endeavor’s voice causes you to scramble away from Aizawa, your ears back and tail poofy with fear. You turn, finding Endeavor standing there with several police officers, a glare on his face.

“I specifically told you to stay out of the way and you didn’t listen to me,” he chastises you as if you’re his daughter. “Chief, that’s her. That Night Claw girl who has been prancing around without a license or a degree as a pro for months now!” 

The middle-aged, bald man standing beside him in a police chief uniform looks from the pro to you, his expression unreadable but still scaring the absolute shit out of you. This is it––you’re going to get arrested. You’re going to lose your job. No one can help you now; not Aizawa, Nezu, or Mic and Nemuri who come to your aid. Not even Hawks who swoops down to land between you and Endeavor. “Enji, what are you doing?” he demands. “This girl just saved half of your coworkers’ lives!” 

“And yet she doesn’t have a license to practice saving lives, does she?” Endeavor snaps. Aizawa suddenly steps in front of you, blocking you from Endeavor’s angry eyes glaring into your soul. “She works at UA, Enji,” he growls, his rage barely being contained. “She’s a counselor. The kids there have enough problems already that some of us professors can’t handle. She’s needed there, and I’m not gonna let you take that away from them or her.” 

Endeavor's eyes turn into sharp slits that target Aizawa, making your stomach flip in panic as if they’re about to fight. “And I’m not going to have anyone make a mockery out of being a pro hero,” he snarls. “People go through so much stress training and studying to get a license and degree to be a hero. People risk their lives every day to protect this damn city.” 

“And so did she!” Nemuri argues, her face red with rage. “If you got your head out of your ass, you would’ve seen what we did for all of us!” Endeavor opens his mouth to rage on, but a sharp whistle sound cuts through the air, silencing all of you. The police chief drops a whistle from his mouth and stares you down, intimidating but not as fearful as Endeavor’s stare is. He eyes you up and down, sizing you up. 

“So it’s you?” he asks, not at all sounding angry. “You’re the reason street crime has been going down?” 

All eyes flick to yours, waiting to see if you’ll deny it or stand in your truth. Because you don’t want to lie anymore, because you want to be the best person you can be, you step from behind Aizawa’s big, tall body, presenting yourself to the chief. “I’d like to hope so, sir,” you softly reply. 

The chief suddenly looks apologetic and you know what’s coming next. “I’m sorry,” he sighs. “You have my full respect for your work and what you’ve done today, but…” He digs into his pocket, revealing a ring of silver cuffs that have your gut twisting with fear. “Under the law, I can’t–“ 

He is interrupted by a sudden flash of a camera. Dozens of news cameras and microphones begin to surround you, pushing through to get to the pros. A newswoman dressed in her finest dress waves from behind two police officers, a microphone in her hand. “Endeavor!” she shouts. “Eraserhead! Over here!” She shoves through the cops along with her own cameraman. Your heart leaps at the idea of being on TV, your face on every screen across Japan and possibly even further than that. 

Once the woman is through, she practically shoves the microphone into Aizawa’s face while the camera on the cameraman’s shoulder targets him with the aftermath of Aqua Master’s attack in the background. “Can you tell us anything about the villain you stopped today?” the newswoman asks feverishly. "Who was he? How did you stop him?” 

Despite his soaked and tired state, Aizawa doesn’t refuse to answer––or to give you your props. “It wasn’t either of us,” he replies. “While we put in work, it was really her.” He nods at you standing like a deer frozen in headlights beside him. Your eyes trail over the cameras suddenly in your face and all of the eyes of the crowd on you making you feel like a hot spotlight is on you. You don’t know what to do. Your mind is completely blank. 

“Hey, miss!” the newswoman says, her microphone now directed at you. “What is your name? Are you a new professional hero?”

You’re silent, your mouth dry and nervous sweat collecting under your pits. Your eyes shift to the chief, wondering if he’ll slap the cuffs on you if you say anything at all. But to your shock, the chief has slipped the cuffs back into his pocket. All he does is give you a nod. One nod that says everything to you. 

You smile, your body flooded with joy, relief, and pride. So you turn to the newswoman and the other microphones that have begun to sneak toward your face. You lean down, speaking into the one nearest to your mouth. “My name is Y/N L/N,” you proudly say. “I’m the vigilante known as Night Claw. Now I have to get back to work.” 

With a smile at the cameras and at a very angry Endeavor, you walk away from the news crews, cameras, police, and crowd of civilians that cheer you on as you strut past in your soaked sneakers. As you do, a Mercedes Benz stops beside you and out hops Gang Orca looking haggard in his tie and dress slacks. 

“Alright, I’m here,” he sighs. “I’m so sorry about my lateness. Traffic was horrible and…” He stops, his eyes trailing over the chaotic sight in front of him. “Uh…am I late?” he asks, looking hesitant to know the answer.

You put a hand on the whale’s back, patting it. “Nothing you need to worry about, Mr. Orca, sir,” you reply with a smile. He gapes at you before you walk past him, heading back toward UA. “Was that Y/N?” you hear Orca ask, baffled. “Can someone please tell me what the hell is going on here?” 

You don't turn around, not even to check on Aizawa. Your first job is done. Now you have another to take care of. 

*********** 

When you walk into Koa’s Purrr Palace that day, it is right after work ends and into the evening after you’ve run your errands. 

The little cat cafe is clean and tidy when you walk in, causing the bell overhead to jingle at your arrival. The floors are polished, the tables are cleaned, and the entire room smells like lavender which can only mean that closing time is soon. There is also the lingering scent of coffee and sugar in the air. 

An old woman–the same old woman who saved your life that fateful night–is just walking from behind the counter with a bottle of pine saw and a rag when she sees you. “Oh, good evening!” she brightly greets you, a smile on her face that creates crinkles by her eyes. You return the smile, standing awkwardly near the door. It’s so strange to be back here after so long. “Hi,” you timidly say. "I’m sorry it’s so late.” 

Koa, the old woman and the owner of this cute little establishment, waves a passive hand, scoffing. “Nonsense! It isn't too late to visit unless the closed sign goes up.” She puts the pine saw and rag down on a nearby table where a bouquet of cut yellow roses sits. “So how can I help you, dear?” she asks, her kindness making you feel like a little girl.

You clutch your purse in front of you. “I’d like to adopt a cat, please,” you reply. “Not for me, but for someone else as a gift. They love cats.” Your stomach flips for some reason as you say this, probably because you’re actually going through with this random ass idea that you came up with right as you arrived at UA. You don’t know if Aizawa will even want another pet after what you put him through, but you have to at least try. 

Koa puts a hand on her heart, practically swooning at your request. “Well, how sweet of you!” she coos. “Any particular breed they like?” She begins to walk you over to the front counter where a few cages of kittens and cats sit, most of them asleep. 

“No, they’re pretty open to whatever,” you answer, knowing damn well you’re just spitting BS because you have no idea what kind of cat breed Aizawa likes. “Just a cat that is very friendly, affectionate, and isn’t too keen on the outside.” 

“Well, I’m sure we can find you the perfect one that checks all of those boxes.” Koa motions to the cages presented in the front for the picking. “Let me just check the back to see if we have any cats left. We’ve had so many adoptions ever since Eraserhead visited here. Such a doll, he is, but quite stoic.”

Your heart leaps and your cheeks flush at the mention of Aizawa, especially the way Koa describes him. ‘He is definitely a doll,’ you think, smiling to yourself. 

Koa leaves you to your own devices as she goes into the back, humming as she does. Your eyes begin to roam over the many felines in their cage condos, most of them asleep. You feel an overload of cuteness from the different cat breeds you see snuggled up in their cat beds or with each other: tabbies; Persians; ragdolls; calicos… Your eyes stop when you land on one calico in particular.

They are small, still a kitten, and the only one not asleep. Instead, they are playing with a little ball that hangs from a string in their cage, its tiny paws flashing with claws that they know how to use. You are not just enchanted by its cuteness but its pattern. It is an unusual but beautiful swirl of browns, whites, and tans that almost appears a shade of pink. Its nose is tiny and pink, its eyes two big jades that seem so full of innocence.

What stands out to you about this kitten, other than its pattern and cuteness, is the tiny scar that lies under its left eye. It is small and white as if something knicked its fur at some point. Reminds you of someone you know well. You move closer to the cage, careful not to startle the tiny thing. “Sps-sps,” you whisper. The kitten’s head whips towards you, its ears perked up.

“Hello,” you coo. “What’s your name?” The kitten softly mews at you, answering you back. You push your finger through one of the cage holes, allowing the kitten to sniff you. Deciding it likes you, it presses its head against your finger and begins to purr. 

“Oh, so you met our new addition!” Koa smiles at you, returning to her post. “We brought her in about a week ago. She’s still a kitten, but was probably the runt of her siblings due to her small size and pattern so her mother possibly abandoned her. When one of my employees found her, she was lying under some bushes near her apartment complex, eating some food someone left her.” 

Your heart breaks at the poor little kitten's story as she continues to run her nose against your finger. “She’s extremely friendly and playful,” Koa giggles. “She's awfully tiny though. I was afraid to pick her up when I first saw her. It’s clear she’s been through some rough patches however long she was alone, but she’s still so kind. Such a sweetheart.” She presses her hand against the cage, earning the kitten’s affection and purrs. 

Your heart breaks even more for the poor animal. She’s so touch-starved and in need of love from a good owner. You’ve never been more certain that Aizawa and Eri would be great owners for her. “You said she could’ve possibly been abandoned for her pattern?” you ask Koa, earning a solemn nod. “How is that even possible? She looks like one of those Neapolitan ice cream swirls.” 

And then, like a lightbulb flickering on in your brain, a name comes to you: “Nea,” you coo. “Little Nea.” As if liking that choice, the kitten slowly blinks at you, a tiny mew leaving her mouth. You turn to Koa, already taking your credit card out of your purse. “I’ll take her.” 

That late night, after returning home with little Nea and leaving her to lay in your bed, you enter your clean, neat bedroom and bend down to look under your bed. There, a chest sits, untouched for weeks now. You pull it out and open it, revealing your Night Claw outfit, still sleek and clean. You’re so glad you decided to place it in the chest instead of keeping it in the duffle bag you’ve often stored it in. Thank God you’re thinking differently now. 

You pull your mask out of the chest, smiling fondly at it. “Hi again, baby,” you whisper. “I’m sorry I’ve been neglecting you. Let’s make up right here, right now.” 

Without another word, you place your mask on your face and suit up. Your suit, still fierce and sexy, still fits like a glove no matter how much time has gone by.

And as you stand in the mirror with the window wide open for your exit, feeling like a brand new woman, you know that you’ve been forgiven. 

[accio-victuuri]

cpn: zz says, keep warm ☕️

parallels made because of zz’s message alongside the xz studio photos released today, the weather is getting colder, pay attention to keep warm. i mean— are his hot af photos supposed to keep us warm? it sure did. lol. xzs knows what’s up!

( wdym this is not work of art from a museum? )

now onto the clownery, again, for turtles who like cpn only. if you hate it then don’t click and read. yes. it’s that easy.

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ZZ, and by extension XZS have always been caring towards his fans. His messages were never sweet to the point of giving way to boyfriend fantasy, but more of a friend who genuinely looks out for you. We’ve talked about how he really doesn’t need to share much and yet he still does. The effort they put in their vlogs as well as photos is much appreciated by fans too. The speculation here is of course bojunyixiao bias, but that doesn’t mean i’m ignoring the truth that these messages are also for his fans.

Anyway, in today’s photo set he did remind people to keep warm. You would think he will say this because it’s getting colder where he is but No. You’ve probably seen some photos of him even wearing shorts while in Chongqing. Also CQ have always been a much warmer city compared to others. If you compare the type of weather, Beijing is in the single digit and is experiencing more of the cold weather. So who are you specifically reminding? Someone in Beijing?

and then you have WYB posting a douyin today. and yes we noticed he’s been active lately but in his video he is all bundled up. He is actually looking cozy in that hoodie. As if to say, “yes i am keeping warm gege.” I really love it when the 24-hour rule is in effect and it’s not on the same platforms.

moving on to other instances,

..this year's spring is a bit cold, everyone pay attention to keep warm..

Around this time, WYB was MIA and shooting Born to Fly in Jiayuguan City ( Gansu ). He wasn’t allowed to leave and it was a locked in shooting because of the sensitivity of the movie’s topic and the involvement of military information. So they couldn’t really meet in person. Around this time in March, it’s so cold that it can get into negative numbers, so maybe another reminder to Yibo?

.. reminder: sooner or later the temperature difference is large, please pay attention to keep warm ..

Yes, the campaign is all about dressing up for the cooler weather but XZS already addressed that in the first part of the caption ( talking about autumn ). but they just have to add that but about keeping warm. The date is 9/7 = 1997 ( Yibo’s birth year ) also 01:25, if you add the minutes all up then it’s 85 ( 8/5, Yibo’s birthday ). Turtles are saying that around this time, Bobo was filming Nameless and it was very cold. Remember they were doing night shoots up until the early morning so it seems like XZ specifically wanted this reminder to be added in.

This was later confirmed when one of the actors ( wang chuanjun ) did an interview and said it was very cold during the shooting.

...The sunset is solid and pleasant, and you need to enjoy the scenery (..) cold protection..

Another reminder ( allegedly ) for his beloved, who was still working with the Nameless crew. from the interviews we’ve seen, it was a tough shoot and it’s sweet of GG to add this in.

Lastly — I’ve been seeing some talk that shooting of ZZ’s drama is temporarily stopped because of COVID related protocol. At least he is stuck at his hometown for this rather than some place else. I also advise against spreading “candy” about them meeting in between and implying they are breaking inter city health protocols. that’s a big deal for them and artists will get flack if there’s any news that they broke the rules when it comes to this. it’s not always about candy and be careful of people who seem like they are well meaning because of the “sweets” they are peddling but it’s really rotten inside.

It may seem irritating to some because i always give this reminder but i will never stop. Turtles are very prone to being taken advantage of and we should be smarter in what we consume. 🤍

-END.