#prev i was about to send this to you and then i saw who reblogged it...

[taintedcigs]

GETAWAY CAR — rockstar!e.m. x f!reader

CHAPTER SIX: ALL TOMORROW'S PARTIES

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✦ summary: in which the truth about steve's party is revealed and eddie leaves reader another note (wc: 8.6k+)

✦ warnings — angst, ANGST, arguments, FIST FIGHT?!?, HUGE WARNING FOR BRUISES AND AN ABSIVE RELATIONSHIP!!!, mention of bruises, mention of shoving someone, BILLY IS ABSIVE, if this content makes you uncomfortable lmk so i can make a summary of it, or just skip the flash back (but its like half of the chapter>:() chrissy is horrible, BILLY is even more horrible, chrissy says some classist shit!!, eddie and p are an old married couple, drinking, smoking/weed

✦ pairings — rockstar!eddie munson x fem!reader, past billy hargrove x fem!reader

✦ authors note — @andvys ily thank u for always being so helpful w everything i hope u like this chapter bb!! not proof-read srry ignore mistakes !! and as i said this is a heavy chapter so lmk if any of u need a summary on the flashback. and im so sorry for making chrissy such a villain i actually rlly love her characterr >:(

anyway ily all pls interact + like + reblog to support me! i'd also LOVE LOVE to chat about anything abt this series it literally is my baby!! pls dont hesitate to send me an ask about anything mwah thank you for reading💗

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FIVE YEARS AGO.STEVE’S PARTY.

Twenty minutes.  You’ve been waiting in line for the bathroom at Steve’s stupid party for the last twenty minutes. Even plenty of people ahead of you had frustratedly groaned and left by now. But you weren’t going to give up that easy. 

A muffled string of curses filtered through the door before she turned the lock. The door creaked open slightly, revealing a glimpse of Chrissy's face.  She gave you a slight smile, and cluelessly, your face lit up. “Oh, thank god! Can you please let me in, I left my jacket in there.” You giggled, words tangled to each other as you made a clumsy attempt to slip past her, but she closed the door further.

With furrowed brows, you looked up at her. “Uh, I’m busy in here,” She giggled nervously, head tilting towards the side. “Oh,” You murmured.

“OH!” The realization was slow to hit you. She was with someone. You started grinning childishly. “Who’s the lucky guy?” You quipped your brows excitedly, causing Chrissy to stammer. 

You tried to pry open the door, brows still wiggling but Chrissy didn’t let you, mumbling something about being embarrassed. “Oh, come on, Chrissy…” You murmured, still grappling with her to open the door. 

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about—” you began with a childlike giggle, attempting to open the door even wider. 

Your giggles were quick to die down when the door fell open, no words dared to come out of your lips as you finally saw who Chrissy was with.  Billy.  Soberness overcame you just at the sight of Billy’s disheveled hair, and Chrissy’s swollen plump lips. 

Your best friend and your boyfriend. 

Your eyes blinked rapidly, desperately wishing it was all a hallucination. The reality of the situation was slow to hit you, your vision blurred uncontrollably, throat tightening, and causing you to feel stuck, almost paralyzed. 

With a gulp, you were quick to take a step back, ignoring them calling your name as you turned back, forgetting all about the jacket you were supposed to get back when your legs felt so wobbly. You could hear the chatter outside the door get louder, everyone else taking a peak at what just happened. The whispers and gasps of everyone around you felt like mocking echoes.

You didn’t even know what to feel first. Anger? Jealousy? Sadness? Embarrassment?

It was a mix of all four and your chest hurts, tears welled up in your eyes, burning down your cheeks as your breaths came in shallow gasps, you couldn’t make any sense of it, and you couldn’t fucking understand it. 

You felt it, felt betrayal like a physical sensation, like there was a void in your chest. And you could sense that Billy was running after you, trying to catch up to you, but you resisted the temptation to slow down, your anger acting as a protective shield. 

“Baby, I swear nothing happened.” He exclaimed, desperation lacing his voice. Your eyes rolled instinctively, head tuning out the words that were too little, too late.

“Please, just listen to me she kissed me I didn’t! I tried to push her off—” You shouldn’t turn around, you definitely shouldn’t turn around and give him that satisfaction. 

But you do.

“For twenty minutes?!? You tried to push her off for twenty fucking minutes?” You yell back bitterly.

“It isn’t what you think, please just let me explain!” 

“Twenty fucking minutes, Billy!” You spat, pain quick to turn into anger. “Do you really think I’m that dumb?” Your fingers discarded your hair in anger, everything you knew to be true wasn’t anymore. 

You knew what you had with Billy was fucked up, it wasn’t a normal nor a healthy relationship, but it was familiar and you were used to it, used to him. A relationship with this many ups and downs became your version of normalcy, even though it shouldn’t have. 

No matter what happened, you thought he loved you, all those promises he whispered into your ear while you slept comfortably on his chest, all the times he murmured that he loved you, that he could never imagine being with anyone else, a whole fucking lie. 

And it hurt. 

Because you knew how hard it would be to walk away from this. You knew you couldn’t break away from him. You needed something to desperately pull you away. Show you that you deserved better than this.

No one would love you more than he did. He told you that a thousand times because it was true. He would do anything and everything for you. And you didn’t know why that enticed you, why being in such a fucked up situation hurt you in the best way possible, like an intoxicating yet destructive obsession.

And anyway, why would anyone even love you? You were a mess, a fuck up, nothing you did ever amounted to anything, and you knew that, you knew you were destined to be this way, to be with someone who constantly hurt you. Nothing you could do would be enough to get you out of the mess that was your mind.  

“I would never do that to you, never.” His eyes were glossy, mirroring yours, you could tell when he lied to you, and this wasn’t one of those times. And you hated that your gaze softened with that because you wanted to believe him. 

You knew he was flirty, you knew that the second you started dating Billy; from the countless times he flirted with the waitress when he took you to dinner, how he always got a little too close with the female lifeguards, how he charmed all the moms in Hawkins with a slight wink, it was a script you knew all too well. And you kept your mouth shut, tolerated it, only because he always brushed it off as nothing. 

You didn’t mind it because he loved you, he told you he did, and you believed him. The countless arguments, the accidental bruises, name-callings, punches in the wall, you forgave it all. Because he loved you, he told you that love made him this way, it made him this insane and angry. And you let him make you believe that his erratic behavior was love, until today. 

Because this was different, this was Chrissy. Your supposed best friend. Yes, Billy probably didn’t start making out with her, but he surely wasn’t eager to finish it either. 

The betrayal cut deeper than any argument or bruise; it was a wound inflicted by the two people you believed loved you unconditionally.

You let out a sarcastic chuckle, arms crossing against your chest as you could feel your face burn up with anger, tears drying out. “You are something else,” you uttered, disappointment and resentment flavoring your words.

“I don’t want to ever see you again, Billy, and I fucking mean it.” 

“Calm down,” he whispered, a feeble attempt to pacify you. 

“No! I am not going to fucking ‘calm down’. You—you fucking cheated on me w-with Chrissy!” Your voice wavered, and you hated it, your anger wasn’t powerful enough to wash away the pain you felt, and tears were stinging your eyes again. 

“Jesus how many times do I have to tell you she fucking kissed me! I-I didn’t fuckin’ cheat!” He defended but you shook your head.  “And, anyway, didn’t you fucking kiss that freak?” 

A lump formed in your throat, a bitter taste accompanying the memory. Yes, you did. But it was after one of your infamous breaks with Billy, the two of you were broken up. Eddie and you promised each other that it was nothing, that it would just complicate things between the two of you. And you knew, if Billy ever found out about it, he would not leave it alone, he wouldn’t let you hang out with him. He would mess with him till no end. And you didn’t want Eddie involved in it. Ever.

“I told you we didn’t!” You lied through your teeth, it didn’t matter now. What you did could never compare to what he fucking did. Ever. But you were starting to realize that maybe, just maybe, Chrissy spreading that rumor was not an accident, at all. 

Anger simmered, building like a storm inside you. “Don’t try to shift the blame on me, you fucking kissed her!” 

“I didn’t—”

“Did you not fucking kiss her back you asshole?” You interrupted, the surge of anger propelling you forward. Your hands found his shoulders, pushing him roughly.  Billy stammered, opening his mouth to speak. “I-I only for like a minute, then I fuckin’ pulled away, I swear!” He defended himself, making you huff angrily.

“It’s over, Billy.” You muttered, gaze meeting his. 

“I mean it.” You added, his sympathetic gaze was quick to turn cold, and it made you feel uneasy, how comfortable he was going from gentle to rough so quickly. 

His lips twisted into a cynical skepticism, “for how long this time? Eight hours? Two fucking days? A week?” There was that lump in your throat again. Billy didn’t believe that you could leave him, and you felt that tight, unexplainable feeling sink into your chest, he thought you’d stay with him no matter what, like a fucking object that he could do whatever he wants to. It’s sickeningly insulting, your hand raises to slap him, but he’s faster. 

“I don’t think so, sweetheart.” His harsh grip on your wrist hurts, but what hurts more is the fresh bruise he left on your forearm two days ago, another fight that got too grabby. 

“L-let me go,” you embarrassingly begged, wincing at his relentless grip. Your face scrunched with pain, eyes squeezing shut. The tenderness of the bruise made the slightest touch unbearable.

His hand twisted your wrist further, harsh hold squeezing more tears out of you than you realized. “B-billy,” you begged, again. Only then, Billy noticed your discomfort, swallowing hard before reluctantly releasing your arm. An emptiness replaced his hold, and your vision blurred as you tried to reassure yourself, fingertips gently tracing the purplish bruise.

“D-does forever work?” It comes out as a whisper, words tangling to each other when you recollect yourself from him, still trying to find the broken pieces he scattered, leaving without another word. 

And he didn’t bother to run after you, watching your figure leave while guilt set in, the sight of that purple blotch on your arm, how you flinched at any contact, the way you closed up during arguments, it was all because of him. All because he couldn’t fucking help himself; his anger or his need for control. 

He doesn’t escape the cycle. 

A sigh of relief escaped your lips as you walked away, tears streaming down your face. Your hands shook as you wiped them away, the weight of everything breaking free in a flood of sobs.

You immediately make your way to the drink stand, praying to whatever god there is that no one else can perceive you for the rest of the night so that you can drown in your sorrows and drink all of it away. 

You barely registered Chrissy approaching you between sobs and the harsh scoop of the 'pure fire,' as Steve called it, into the red cup clutched in your fists. “Can I talk to you?” Her voice, when it finally reached your ears, felt mocking, and carried a giddy undertone that enraged you more and more. 

“No,” you scoffed, refusing to entertain the idea, turning your attention back to the sorrowful task of filling your cup.

“Come on, take a chill pill,” she attempted to joke, her usual signature line falling flat. Your glare, sharp as the knives you felt in your back, met her with anger. She huffed a sigh of breath. 

“Please I’m sorry, just let me talk—”

“What the fuck do you want to talk about, huh?” You set the cup down harshly, the impact of it had the drink sloshing all over the surface, “the fact that you tried to kiss my boyfriend?” you interrupted with a spiteful look.

Her wavering sympathy dissipated at your accusation, eyes turning cold as she furrowed her brows. “What?” she hissed. “Tried? Is that what he told you?” She scoffed.

Your face scrunched. “I wouldn’t put it past you.” You spat back, you didn’t care if your words hurt her in the slightest, your thoughts were purely consumed by her betrayal. 

 “Excuse me?” Chrissy’s eyes narrowed.

“Jesus, Pinky are you really that fucking gullible?” She asked tilting her head almost mockingly. 

“Or do you really think that highly of yourself?” Your mouth struggled to open, heart dropped to your stomach when you realized she didn’t even care.

“We were in that bathroom for twenty minutes, use your imagination.” That goddamn smirk curved on her lips, and you knew you have never felt this amount of pain before, it was insulting, to ever think you called her your friend. 

“Oh, you are such a fucking-” You could feel your blood boiling, almost ready to attack her, your drunken haze giving you enough courage. 

But her annoying tone interrupted you, “Did you really think you were perfect? That you were enough for Billy?” 

“What did you think? That he would want a fucking charity case like you?” The tears pooled your eyes again, but you weren’t going to let her see it, so you held them in, clenching your fists as your breath caught in your throat. All of her insults became a deafening background noise to your ears. “Newsflash, Pinky you have junkies for parents. You’re too messed up. Even for Billy.” 

The heat rushed to your cheeks at the last insult, earning a visceral reaction because of how cruel she was. Disgust and anger overtook your senses quicker than you intended them to, you felt small, and so fucking stupid. 

Regret gnawed at you – You should’ve never let her in. You should’ve never let her comfort you. You should’ve never told her anything. It was all your fucking fault. For trusting anyone that came in your way. 

Just because you wanted to feel loved, just because you wanted to fill that void that your parents left. And it was so ironic, considering they couldn’t give two shits about you, yet your deepest wound would always be them. 

“You’re so fucking pathetic, Chrissy.” You spat, masking all of your emotions. You had mastered it at this point. You didn’t care what she said about you, she could keep her mouth running, because she was dead to you. Maybe you could’ve forgiven her for the whole Billy thing because fuck him too, he was no saint, right? 

But making fun of your parents was one line she couldn’t cross. 

“You’re more fit for that trailer trash freak.” Scratch that. Making fun of Eddie was one line she couldn’t fucking cross. Eddie. She couldn’t breathe near him if she wanted to, she didn’t deserve it. 

Your teeth grounded together, and fury fueled your rise to your feet. “Don’t ever call him that again.” The words slipped between gritted teeth, the realization of how close you had walked to her only dawned as you unintentionally cornered her.

She looked taken aback, brows pinched together. “What are you gonna do? Go all trailer trash on me too?” She chuckled, annoyingly loud.

You shouldn’t. You fucking shouldn’t. 

But she also shouldn’t have insulted Eddie. 

You are ready to lunge at her, feet planted closer as your hands are formed as fists at your side, and just as you’re about to take another step, a harsh arm yanked you away. Seconds away from getting that satisfaction, and just like that, you’re ripped away from it.

“What the—” You turned swiftly to see the culprit, as you harshly shook off the hold on you, your bruises still hurt, causing loud whines to part from your lips. Steve. Chrissy was back in your face, mocking laughter dancing in her eyes. “God, you’re predictable.” The laughter stung, and the pressure of your anger almost built up in your jaw. “Fuck you, you stupid—” You try again. No luck. Of course, Steve, with an unyielding grip, dragged you away.

Chrissy walked past, reveling in the scorned look etched on your face. She paused, turning with a smirk. “Oh, and next time you get a ‘freak accident’, make sure you don’t forget your jacket.” She pointed toward the fresh bruise on your forearm, courtesy to Billy who grabbed you a little too hard during another heated argument. Then she threw the jacket right next to you, on the floor landing with a mocking thud as she left with an irritating cackle. 

Impressively, Steve picked it up while maintaining his hold on you. “Let me go!” Your almost-scream echoed, his hands were unintentionally grazing the tender bruise, and it fucking hurt.

Only when he knew Chrissy was out of sight did he release his grip, and you shook him off with an exasperated huff. “What the fuck?!?” You questioned, gaze burning with fury. “Right back at you, what the fuck was that, Pinky?” He asked, tone more concerned than angry.  “Nothing,” you muttered. It was such an obvious lie that Steve rolled his eyes. “That won’t work with me.”

In a defiant move, you grabbed the drink, aiming to drown the tension, but Steve intercepted, harshly putting it back down. A glare shot his way. “Will you leave me alone?” “No.” He protested with a pinch of his brows. “So, tell me.”  “Steve,” you whined. You didn’t want to be interrogated by him, you knew he cared. But you just couldn’t handle it.  “I’m serious, you do realize this is my house, right?” His tone carried a veiled threat and you rolled your eyes at him. “I could kick you out any time I wanted to.” Your gaze narrowed, disbelief etched across your face. "You wouldn’t do shit." With a raise of his brows, Steve swiftly picked you up, slinging you over his shoulders. It all happened so fast that you weren’t quick to start softly punching his back and screaming.  God, he really was good at distracting you, so good that his little act almost coaxed a reluctant smile from your lips.  “Put me down!” You yelled behind him, your fists landed on his back with a not-so-impactful force. 

“Are you gonna tell me?” Steve asked, relishing the way you continued to thrash over his shoulder. Your face grew hotter every second, and with an annoyed huff, you finally nodded. “Yes, Jesus Christ!”

He gently lowered you to the ground, and a teasing glint danced in Steve's eyes as he quipped, "Atta girl." You responded with a scoff and a mock annoyed chuckle.

“So?” He questioned, arms crossing against his chest, his demeanor shifted,  the playful atmosphere dissipating as his expression turned serious.  “I caught Chrissy and Billy in the bathroom.”  “What?” Genuine shock washed over Steve's features, his eyes widening in disbelief. “Yeah I—” “And she still had the nerve to say all those fucking things?” Embarrassment surged, fluttering your cheeks hot. “You, uh, you heard those?” Steve responded with a quick nod.

“Don’t be embarrassed, Pinky, not with me.” He reassured you, his hand finding a comforting place on your waist, “she's the one who should be fuckin’ embarrassed. Jesus.”

“Thought she was supposed to be your friend,” Steve said, his gaze softening with empathy.

“Me too.” A sad chuckle escaped your lips.

His gaze lingered on the gnarly bruises decorating your arm, a visible wince reflecting in his expression. "And what about those?" he gulped, concern etching lines on his face.

You were quick to dismiss it with a wave, too quickly that of fucking course Steve knew something was wrong, you didn’t even dare to look at the bruises, or him in the eyes. 

“Bike accident,” you muttered, lying through your teeth.

"Since when do you have a bike?" Steve questioned and gauged your reaction, he knew you were lying, you were avoiding his gaze, and you looked visibly nervous, but he didn’t want to push this. It was too personal, and this wasn’t the place for it.  So, he understood, of course, he did. He or Nancy should’ve been the one you confided in. But you didn’t want to burden them with your problems.

“If—” Steve took a deep breath, choosing his words carefully. “If you ever need to talk about anything—and I mean anything—you can always talk to me. Hell, us! You can always talk to us, you know that, right?” His hand was quick to caress your back, gently, letting you know that he would always be there.

You nodded, but you wanted this pity party to be over, you wanted—needed Eddie. Just one hug from him. And maybe a joint.

“I-I know, thank you.” You hesitantly replied, stumbling over your words.

“You need anything?” He asked sincerely.

You shook your head softly. “No… but have you seen Eddie?” 

“He was selling to some idiots on the porch, might still be there.” He shrugged.

You were quick to nod, you had to leave, immediately. You didn’t want to worry Steve. “Thanks, Stevie, see you around?” You hummed, managing a smile that he mirrored.

And with that you were quick to grab your drink, downing it with a hiss before you almost ran to the porch, you didn’t want to see Billy or Chrissy again. You needed to find Eddie. And god, was it hot, you didn’t know if it was because of everything that transpired in the last twenty minutes, or it was because of the alcohol flowing in your system but you were burning up. And you didn’t want to wear your jacket. You should have.

A harsh breeze of air hit you once you finally stepped on the porch, fresh yet biting, serving as a slap of reality that had your eyes watering, you didn’t know why, you didn’t know how, but the tears came immediately.  It was pathetic, really. You with the bruises, half-drunk, discovering your friend with your boyfriend, breaking up with your boyfriend, and then earning insults from the said friend who was hooking up with your boyfriend.  A rollercoaster of a fucking night, but it was just getting started.  Slouching on the porch stairs, your head hung low to your knees as you covered your face with shame, almost. Mind reeling in the worst way possible. 

The insults stuck to it, Chrissy’s plump lips, Billy’s disheveled hair. His harsh grip on your arm. The way he mocked you. The insults Chrissy uttered. It was all a fucking mess. And you couldn’t handle any more of it. 

All the emotions you pent up over the years wanted to flow through your eyes, ruining you, completely breaking you apart. 

The red cup in your hand was crumpled roughly, each attempt to stifle your cries only intensified the shaking of the cup, spilling over to the stairs. 

Where was he? 

Where was Eddie? 

Your mind was spinning and the only thing you could think of was him. 

“Pinky?” The soft tone of his voice sliced through the tumult in your mind, and your head snapped up, eyes immediately watered at the sight.

There he stood, a boyish grin adorning his face, shaggy bangs falling over his amber eyes, a stupid leather jacket, and those stupid black jeans with chains attached to the hip. Him.

“Finally! Been lookin’ everywhere for you, sweetheart,” His voice wrapped around you like a reassuring embrace, but your foggy mind took a while for everything to register. When it did, you shot up, the world spinning dizzily, as you threw yourself into his arms. Sobs escaped freely, muffled against his jacket. 

His voice immediately softened, gentle hands running through your hair as he cooed. “Hey.. hey… what happened?” His tone so sweetly sick that you couldn’t help but melt into him, letting his warmth take over. 

Your breath caught up in your throat, and Eddie gently pulled away from the hug. Soft hands cupped your tear-streaked cheeks, grounding you with a simple touch. You gave into him, succumbing to his tenderness. 

This was what you needed. And it was almost as clear as day. It should’ve always been him. 

"I-I-" Your words stumbled over your sobs, the weight on your chest making it hard to breathe. Eddie's concerned eyes met yours, wiping away the tears on your cheek gently. 

“Honey, hey, hey…” He caught your attention, his soothing voice breaking through the haze. His brows furrowed with worry, and you blinked open your eyes, focusing on him. "Breathe, can you do that for me, sweetheart?" Like a lifeline, his words pulled you back from the edge. Concern etched on his face, apparent from his brows creasing.

What the fuck happened? And who fucking did this to you?

Eddie had a good idea who did it: Billy. The very thought of that name sent a surge of anger through his veins. Hadn't this asshole put you through enough already? What could he have fucking done now?

You drew in a shuddering breath, and Eddie, recognizing your struggle, encouraged you while soothingly caressing your hair, calming you down further and further.

"Deep breaths, just like that. Breathe for me," he coaxed, and you obediently followed, shallow breaths gradually returning to normal as you focused on him.

His touch was gentle, hands still caressing your cheeks as he asked with genuine concern, "Are you doing okay now?" He asked, gaze mellow and lips overturned with worry

You nodded, but it wasn't convincing enough for him. As your hiccups persisted, you finally managed to articulate through the tears, "Chrissy."

Eddie's heart tightened, a quizzical look on his face. Chrissy? What did she have to do with this?

"Billy hooked up with Chrissy," you revealed, it was the most clear you had spoken to him and he still had a hard time understanding it.  

His brows pinched together both in anger and confusion, his hold on you faltering once he registered your words.

So, Billy cheated on you? 

Oh, now he was going to kill that bastard. Once he made sure you were okay, he was going to beat the shit out of him. 

"What?" he exclaimed a little too loudly, his hold on you momentarily faltering in sheer shock.

"They—what?" he stammered.

"I caught them in the bathroom, Eddie, I—" Your tears blurred your vision again, and in frustration, you ran your hand through your hair. 

That's when Eddie's eyes widened, and he pointed to something, asking, "What's that?"

You froze, desperately attempting to dismiss it, but Eddie wasn't having it. His hands gently flew to your forearm, and you flinched just in time, hastily trying to put on the jacket you should've already been wearing. Stupid, stupid, stupid. 

Now he was going to ask so many questions, and you knew he wouldn’t let go like Steve did, and he would know if you lied, in a heartbeat. 

He huffed quickly, ignoring your protests as he softly held onto your arm, just around the bruise, being careful not to cause any more pain. Your lip trembled in the process. Shit, shit, shit. 

“Pinky…” he murmured, worry creasing his brows at the royal purple mark.

If Eddie knew, there was no turning back, there was no way he wouldn’t make a big deal out of it. A part of you was happy about it—maybe he could pull you away, maybe everything would be okay. 

But the other part of you was terrified. Because you know he wouldn’t think of your bruises as nothing like you did and like Billy kept assuring you, he wouldn’t just let this go like you would. He would stand up for you, and while you were grateful, you were equally scared. 

“N-nothing,” you muttered, avoiding his intense gaze. 

“That’s not nothing,” his hand extended, slowly but surely making you reveal the full extent of the huge, gnarly bruise on your arm, with another one freshly forming from the hold Billy had on you earlier. Fuck.

“Holy shit,” he muttered, trying to avoid the genuine gasp waiting to escape his lips, “What happened?” His gaze found yours. 

“Bike accident,” you lied through your teeth, a stupid fucking lie. He would never buy it.

“You don’t have a bike.” He heaved a sigh of breath, the thought of these bruises forming because of Billy didn’t even form his mind, sure he was awful and an asshole, but Eddie never thought he would be that awful. 

“I used Mike’s.” Another lie. 

“Did something bad happen?”

“No!”

“Pinky,” he said it so seriously that you felt bad.  “Tell me, please.” His tone was awfully worrying. 

How the fuck were you going to tell him?

“We were arguing—”

“What?” He quickly snapped back, not at you, but at what you were implying. He could almost feel the color draining from his cheeks. You surely didn’t mean…

“It-it was nothing!” You defended with a dismissive wave, but it didn’t stop his eyes widening. “We just- we were just arguing, and-and then he tried to hold me but i-it was just a little tight!” 

“H-he did this to you?” Eddie’s jaw clenched in an instant, and he tried his best not to react, trying not to show you how he could feel his blood practically boiling, you’d been through enough, you didn’t need to deal with calming him down now, too. 

“No, no, it was just a little accident. It doesn’t matter!” 

“Yes, it fucking does!”

“No, it doesn’t!” Frustrated, you spat back, a bit of your pent-up anger lashing out at Eddie.

“I’m going to kill that asshole,” He scowled, rising to his feet, eyes spitting fire and you were quick to have a strong hold on his arm. “N-no! Please.” You whispered, the desperation in your voice slicing through the tension. Your touch brings him back to the present, reminding him that you matter more than his impulsive reactions.

Eddie stopped with a sigh of breath, gaze returning to you, and you nervously licked your lips fingers combing through your hair to gather your thoughts. “Look, Eddie, I-I just needed to see you, I just needed to feel normal for a moment, please, not now.” Your gaze was sympathetic, you looked so hurt that Eddie’s brows scrunched in pain.

He opened his mouth, about to speak, about to tell you that he could protect you, but your brows furrowed, and that teary-eyed look returned on your face. “Please,” Desperate, tugging on his arm, and he had no choice but to nod. He could deal with this later. 

“O-okay,” he muttered, meekly, swallowing the lump in his throat. His stomach churned in pain and anger when he realized that bastard actually fucking hurt you. And you really thought it was all okay…

“What do you need, honey?” Sickeningly sweet tone was back again, and it warmed you up, removing the coldness that sat on your chest. 

“A hug…” You muttered, “and maybe a joint.” 

That brought an unintentional grin to both of your faces. “C’mere.” He whispered, arms quick to wrap around you, holding you close. The subtle sway of his body rocked you in the promise that you were not alone, his gaze filled with concern and you couldn’t help but melt into him when he pressed a kiss onto your hair. 

Too engulfed, too distracted to realize someone almost sprinting toward the two of you. Before you could process the approaching figure, a voice cut through the air, sharp and accusatory. “You didn’t kiss him? Bullshit!”

Confusion etched across your face as Eddie's protective arms tightened around you. “What the hell are you—” 

Billy, possibly fueled by alcohol, swaggered toward you both with an air of aggression.  “Stay the fuck away from my girlfriend.”

The scent of alcohol wafted from Billy, and Eddie’s unbridled rage was now on the surface, he wore a scowl, eyes daggering through Billy. His hand protectively remained on your hips, gently pulling you aside. You tried to look at him, silently pleaded that you didn’t want this, that you didn’t need him to do this. But it was no fucking use. 

“She’s not your fucking girlfriend, dipshit.” 

“Stay the fuck out of this, freak.” He ignored Eddie, rage now full on display as he fully turned toward you.

“What, you gonna deny it, or no?” Caught in a crossfire, you felt a surge of panic, and just as you were about to speak, Eddie did it for you. 

“No, she’s not gonna fuckin’ deny it.” Your eyes widened, blinking rapidly to process what Eddie just confessed to.

“Eddie—” You tried but again, no use, Eddie took a step closer to him.

“We did kiss.” A smirk played on his lips, he was doing it on purpose, he wanted to get Billy to punch him. 

“I fucking kissed her, asshole.” Shit, you internally cursed at him.

The tension thickened, you could see it in the ticking jaw and bulging vein on Billy's neck. He moved forward, poised to strike at Eddie. “You have the nerve you fuckin’ freak!” He stepped forward, attempting to get at him. 

You acted quick, acting as a shield to Eddie, you didn’t care, you couldn’t let him get hurt because of you. You couldn’t handle that. 

“Billy, don’t!” Your desperate plea was drowned out by the pounding music and the escalating chaos. Despite your efforts, Billy's aggression only intensified. A forceful push sent you sprawling to the unforgiving ground. Tiny rocks bit into your palms, and your knees scraped against the abrasive cement.

The impact on the ground sent a shockwave of pain through your body, a groan escaping your lips at the pain. Your world spun harder, you didn’t even know what to focus on first; the throbbing bruise on your cheek, Billy's kiss with Chrissy, the haze of your drunkenness, or the startling fact that Billy had pushed you to the ground. All of it made you dizzy.

You could barely blink when Eddie knocked Billy out cold, with three well-aimed punches, lunging at him the moment he laid hands on you, your gaze narrowed to make sure you saw it correctly. 

Eddie was fine. Eddie was okay. 

“Sweetheart, oh my god.” Eddie's voice cut through the haze, his worried tone a soothing balm. With a gentle scoop, he lifted you to your feet. 

You didn’t want to be there when Billy woke up, some drunk idiot could help him. Or Chrissy would, for all you cared. And as if Eddie understood you, he quickly helped you move away from the scene, guiding you towards the row of parked cars, away from everything.

Once you were at a safer distance, Eddie tried to hold you, face etched in concern, as he ventured to ask, “You doing okay?”

The scowl you wore was anything but, “Why did you do that?!?” The words spat from your lips surprised him.

“Excuse me?” Eddie responded, his brow furrowing in confusion.

“Yo-you shouldn’t have told him!” Worry was etched all over your face, Eddie didn’t realize the consequences of what he did would have, but you did, oh, you did. 

“D-do you realize what you just fucking did?” You wanted to cry, or you were already crying, you couldn’t tell when your cheeks were wet already. 

“I—”

You interrupted him. “I-I don’t need this, I don’t need you to protect me.”

“I didn’t mean to make you upset—”

“I’m not upset!” Your scowl deepened, face flushed with frustration. 

He tried to reach closer, tried to help you but you refused. “Don’t- just don’t!” 

“I-I don’t need to be saved or protected, okay?” Your lips wobbled, “just l-leave me alone, Eddie.” 

“What?” His face fell, lips downturned, as he struggled to comprehend your sudden detachment.

“Leave me alone, I-I can take care of myself!” You begged, but that anger sank on your chest, it made you bitter, made you want to close up entirely.

“How the fuck am I supposed to do that?” He spat, hands ruffling through his hair in anger. He took a step closer to you, stomach churning with the need to hold you.

“Pinky don’t you fucking see it? I care about you, you’re the only thing I care about in this goddamn world! How the fuck do you expect me to leave when you’re hurt?” His voice cracked, and your gaze softened with it.

“How do you expect me to not beat the shit out of that fucking asshole for doing that to you?” The raw emotion in his voice was enough to pierce through your defenses, making your heartache.

“I get it, I get that you’re tough, but shit—”

“I can’t just sit and watch you get hurt… I can’t.” The truth in his words hung heavy in the air, it was almost like a shift between the two of you, like the barrier finally dissipating, so that the true feelings would prevail. 

Yet, despite that you pushed back, your own stubbornness overtaking you. “But I want you to leave me alone!” 

You knew your words were nothing but a lie, you needed someone, him specifically. Sure, you had always been tough, but this? This was too much. And you knew he was the only one who could make you feel better, yet like an idiot, you pushed him away. That’s all you were good at, wasn’t it?

Your tears came back when you saw his face, defeated, all because of you. He didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve you. He deserved better, he shouldn’t be roped up in this mess. You had to push him away, you fucking had to. 

He didn’t do anything but look at you. Really, really looked at you. 

And you looked a mess, hair disheveled, mascara running down your cheeks, bruises on your arm, knees scrapped, lip wobbling, and you could barely stand. The worst possible condition he saw you in. 

He knew what you were doing, you were pushing him away because you were afraid. A move, he always pulled, a move he was good at until he met you. He understood you, possibly in a way no one ever could. 

Eddie, undeterred, stepped closer to you with a calm determination. Your head snapped up at the movement, eyebrows furrowed in confusion and frustration. 

“No.” He muttered. 

“What?” 

“I’m not gonna leave.”

“But—”

“No but’s, wear your jacket, I’m taking you home.” His tone was clear, not harsh, not soft either. Just letting you know that he was here, he was always going to be here and he was not leaving, even if you tried so hard to make him. 

“I-I don’t think I wanna go home.” You muttered.

“My place?” You nod softly. 

You don’t know why it caused you to break down again, but it did, tears were your friend and they were overspilling faster than you intended them to. His arms opened up instinctively and you didn’t hesitate to let him engulf you. 

“I’m sorry,” you murmured between sobs, the words catching in your throat. “‘M sorry, didn’t mean it, ‘m so sorry, sorry, so—” Hiccups interrupted your apologies, but Eddie hushed you gently, his presence making you feel at ease.

“I know, I know…” he cooed, hand ghosting over your back, the hold he had on you tight enough to let you know that you were safe. “It’s okay, honey.” He reassured. The sweet name had your heart beat faster once you looked up at him. 

“I-I didn’t mean it.” You stammered all teary-eyed, and Eddie couldn’t help the way his chest tightened, you didn’t deserve this, you didn’t deserve to cry. He was going to make sure you were okay.

“Hey, hey, I know.” He cooed softly, gently caressing your face.

“P-please, don’t leave.” Your tone framed the words so gut-wrenchingly painful that Eddie ached, his heart broke a million times, over and over, pieces to pieces. 

“Never.” 

“I’d never leave you.” 

NOW STEVE'S BRUNCH.

With the missing pieces of the puzzle finally being revealed to Eddie, that memory was what he replayed in his head, over and over, until he finally couldn’t handle the way Steve reassured you, hand on your waist as he told you idiotic jokes. 

He couldn’t shake off it, he shouldn’t just leave it like this. He should fight for you, he should do something. His hand was quick to fish out the notebook, his eyes scanned through it to find the perfect note, maybe, this would help you realize that he had always been there for you. A feeble attempt, but he didn’t have any other choice, you didn’t want to talk to him, so he just slipped the note to Jonathan and left. 

You watched him leave, a scowl on your face, heart aching when he didn’t even utter a goodbye to you. It was hypocritical, considering that you had asked him not to acknowledge you, but you couldn’t help it. You couldn’t help yourself when it came to him.

Hours had passed since that moment and you had apologized to Jonathan and Nancy a hundred times by now, but they shrugged it off without a care. God, you really didn’t deserve them, did you? 

And everything was going finally back to normal. Sipping the cocktails and munching on the amazing pancakes Steve had made everyone, and dabbling your feet in the water as laughter was all that surrounded the group. 

This was what it should’ve been, all of you, and Eddie. If he hadn’t brought her. 

But of course, all the bliss disappeared once Steve decided to bring it up again. 

“So… how do you feel?” You threw him a glare, splashing some of the chlorine-filled water directly at his hair. 

“Jesus, not the fucking hair!” He groaned, ruffling it with his daggering glare thrown at you. “Now you have to tell me!” He insisted, shoulder nudging yours. 

“I don’t really wanna talk about it,” you muttered, facing away from him as you felt everyone eyeing you. 

“Maybe, we should.” Jonathan chimed in, making you furrow your brows. 

“What does that mean?” Steve replied before you did. 

With a sigh, Jonathan extended a rustled paper, and you immediately recognized what it was, “He said he wanted me to give this to you.” 

“A note? So brave of him,” Steve mocked with a roll of his eyes, groaning when Nancy elbowed him. 

Robin hid her giggle with her hand, and Nancy threw her an icy glare, shutting both of them up. 

Your brows furrowed in disbelief, lips kissing your teeth as you snatched it out of his hand. “Oh, he did?” You didn’t mean to sound sarcastic, but it was pissing you off at this point. 

He didn’t utter a single word to you. And now he didn’t even have the decency to give you this? 

Steve was right. 

Why was he being a fucking coward? 

You were quick to get up from the side of the pool, plopping onto the nearest chair to read the contents. 

You could feel their eyes on you but they were quick to hide it, going back to their chatter. 

“When she gave me this, I never thought I’d actually end up writing in it for anything other than lyrics. Some ideas. But ever since we kissed, I can’t stop or control my thoughts, it’s been nonstop flowing and this is the only way I can express it. The only thing to make me feel sane, to make it seem like it really was real. My mouth hasn’t shut up about her since she kissed it, my thoughts haven’t been okay ever since I saw the curl of her lips right after she kissed me. I know how hard it is for her, I know how much she struggles with that dipshit who doesn't deserve her. But it doesn’t matter, now. I’ll wait. I’ll wait forever if she asks me to. I’ll do anything if she asks me to.”  

You turned the note over, nothing else was written, with your brows pinched together angrily, you smushed it into your pocket, ignoring the protests of everyone while you jumped into your car in a hurry. 

What the fuck was he thinking giving you this? 

What the fuck was his problem? 

If he wanted you, why couldn’t he just tell you? 

And if so, why did he even bring Chrissy? 

It wasn’t long till you made it to Eddie’s trailer, and with your harsh knocks, it wasn’t long till Eddie opened it. 

“Jesus Christ—” His words fell in the air at the sight of you, eyes widening. 

“What the fuck is your problem?” You yelled, lines on your forehead deepening into a frown as you held up the note in his face. 

“You didn’t utter a single word to me, and you’re just giving this note to Jonathan?” He stammered, mouth unable to find the words to speak, not really expecting you to confront him like this. 

“Why don’t you just say it to my fucking face?”

“I would, if you weren’t so busy.”

Your brows pinched together, “excuse me?” 

“Is this some kind of a joke?” He asked.

“Y-you tell me not to speak with you! You tell me that we shouldn’t ever see each other again, then you leave with Steve and somehow I’m the problem?” He said, exasperated.

Was he… jealous? Of Steve?

“No, the problem is you being a coward!” You raised your voice, hand pressing the note to his chest dramatically. 

“You think I’m a coward? I’m the furthest fucking thing from it, and you know that.”

“You think a coward would put everything aside for you? You think a coward would run away with you?” 

“O-okay, okay!” You want him to stop speaking, because you know he’s right, he wasn’t a coward, at least when it came to that. But he was a coward when it came to his feelings, and maybe it wouldn’t have pissed you off this much if you weren’t one too. 

The two of you were dancing around what you actually needed to talk about, feelings, and it was getting ridiculous at this point, because neither of you could pull away, no matter how many times you said you would. He pulled you in, and you pulled him in. 

“I fucked up, I did. But don’t ever act like I’m the one who ran away when things got too hard, okay?” He leaned further on the door frame, face inches away from yours, it made your breath hitch, heart thumping inside of your ribcage. 

Your words meshed together when your gaze stooped on his lips. He was close, so close, and he occupied your mind. “H-How did we even go back to this? It’s like we’re moving around in a stupid fucking circle and—” You took a deep breath to gather your thoughts. 

“I told you I didn’t want to do this back and forth with you and here we are again!” It was frustrating, everything with him was frustrating, but you couldn’t stay away from him, how could you?

Those five years had been hell. 

“Are you kidding?” His words were dripping with irritation, “You came to my door! Started screaming in my face and waving notes!”

“I only did it because you were too much of a fucking coward to give me the note!” Now it was fully getting ridiculous, arguments turning into a bickering old couple. 

“I told you I’m not a coward—” He defended.

You interrupted with, “Fine, fine! You are not a coward whatever!” 

“What you are is fucking infuriating!” You spat, taking a step closer to him. 

“Infuriating? You started this!” He fueled it, mirroring your steps, one more step from either of you, and his lips would be pressed onto yours. 

“Oh, so I kissed Chrissy?” You scoffed, arms crossed against your chest.

“Jesus, that’s not what I meant!” He almost groaned, frustrated. 

“You want me to prove it to you? You want me to tell you how much I messed up? I’ll fucking do it.” 

There was that tension between the two of you again, it wasn’t filled with hatred in the slightest, but there was so much unresolved shit that it might as well suffocate you if Eddie stepped any closer, it ached, making a way to your heart. 

Three hours ago you wanted him out of your life, for good. Now, all you wanted to do was see him prove himself to you, it was stupid, psychotic, and maybe a little selfish. But you couldn’t help yourself when it’s him. 

“You will?” You stammered, you didn’t fully know what that meant, but it was somehow making your heart jump knowing that maybe the notes still meant something. Maybe, just maybe he wanted you, still. Your forehead relaxed, and lips itched to curl into a smile. 

And of fucking course, Eddie caught it. “Yes.” He said, all smugly, making you want to roll your eyes. 

“G-good, uh, until then, I-I mean it, I don’t want to see you.” You shifted uncomfortably in your place, fully realizing how close he was to you, and it somehow brought confidence to Eddie.

He tssked, “Then you probably shouldn’t come to my door, then.” His nose scrunched sarcastically, eliciting an eye roll from you. 

“Munson.” You warned. 

“Pinky?”

“You really are infuriating.”

“Am I?” He tilted his head all adorably. 

“Yes.”

“See you tonight, sweetheart.” He winked. 

And you groaned with that, flipping him off while you hurried back to your car. 

He closed the door with an amused smile, his nose scrunching as he replayed the conversation in his head. 

“So you two good now?” Wayne’s grouchy tone almost had Eddie jump in place.

“Jesus Christ, Wayne! Were you just eavesdropping on our conversation?”

“What? You said y’all had the worst fight of your lives, that don’t seem like it to me.” He shrugged.

“We did— but uh, I don’t know, I just don’t know what the actual fuck is going with us, I thought I was dead to her but then she just barges in—”

“She cares about you, Eddie.” Wayne sighed. 

“I know that girl like the palm of my hand, if you were dead to her, she wouldn’t even acknowledge you, just her bein’ a big fireball shows she still cares.” 

Eddie sighed, “But she said—” 

“Hell to what she said! Both of y’all are idiots when it comes to this, you go prove to her that you’re sorry, tell her how you feel and then you can thank me.” He exclaimed.

“But—”

“Boy, do what I told you, apologize to that sweet girl, and make sure you do it until she forgives you.” Eddie threw a look at Wayne. 

And Wayne dismissed it with his finger pointing at him, “I mean it, Eddie, after all the shit you told me about what that little blondie did to my Pinky, you should be on your knees beggin’!” 

“Okay, okay!” Eddie admitted the defeat.

“Jesus, old man, it wouldn’t hurt for you to just take your nephew’s side once in a while, would it?” He mocked dramatically. 

He threw a daggering look at Eddie, “Fine, fine, I’ll apologize.” Wayne narrowed his gaze. “A proper apology.” Eddie muttered, almost embarrased. “And?” Wayne raised his brows. Eddie groaned loudly, “and I’ll tell her how I feel.”

✦ final authors note — okay i promise the next two chapters are going to be less angst-filled (like gonna be worth the wait i promiseee) 🤭 and yes the note was inspired by alex turner's letter to alexa chung okay!! reading that at like 13 altered my brain chemistry a LOT. anyway like i said pls leave some feedback i swear it motivates me a LOTTT. thank u for reading ilyy💗

[larkspyrr]

chapter ix — and all i can breathe is your life (wc. 4.6k)

prev — masterlist / ao3 — next (coming soon!)

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Lucy, the beautiful, loyal creature that she was, carried Wriothesley directly to you like a creature possessed, hooves stamping at the earth in a furious gallop.

She missed the trees closing in on either side of her by mere inches—whip-thin branches lashed against Wriothesley’s face and arms and chest, drawing blood wherever they bit into his skin. He didn't notice.

Finally, the lush green gave way to a barren little camp, and as Wriothesley slid out of the saddle, all he could see was you.

You were on the ground, cornered against an old tree with your legs pulled up against your chest, smears of blood on your neck and hands. Your hair and clothes were matted to your skin by something too light to be blood but too dark to be sweat. The unmistakable smell of gasoline permeated the entire camp, and Wriothesley suppressed a gag at the overwhelming odor.

Your eyes were wide with fear, but your brow and jaw set in defiance. Scared, but not cowering; not conceding defeat.

His eyes were drawn to a flash of light near the opposite treeline. Fire flickered from the head of a torch held by a man who was—who was fucking smiling—

Every part of Wriothesley's body thrummed with violence, his vision pulsing against his shoulder with glacial wrath. He felt frost gathering at his hands, the familiar frigid mist condensing into the unforgiving steel of his bespoke gauntlets. He basked in the weight against his hands, tightened his fists with the reassurance that he would never be unable to help those he cared about again.

He looked once more to you. To ground himself. To remind himself.

He stepped into the clearing.

The blizzard followed.

Wriothesley fought like you danced.

He was lethal; graceful. Beautiful. You had seen him in the ring, time and time again, but nothing could have ever prepared you for what he would be like when lives were on the line—your life. He was fluidity; he was raw power; he was precision and brutality. Those gauntlets you had only seen a few times before concealed the kind hands you’d come to know so well; channeling ice and snow and biting, savage cold into overwhelming waves of frigid righteousness. A one-man fortress, hewn from ice.

You gasped as a shaft of ice impaled the ground not far from where you sat, startling you from the viscous haze of awe and terror that clawed at your throat. It caught the sunlight, out of place, stark against the verdant green, glittering, wicked, and sharp.

Your eyes shot up. Wriothesley caught your stare for only a fraction of a second before sending out another cascade of ice toward the Treasure Hoarders, but the flick of his gaze to the shard told you everything you needed to know.

Wriothesley was giving you the choice. You were not powerless—not this time, not ever again.

Your heart hammered like a drum. You didn't hesitate, your body knowing what you'd choose before you had even consciously made the decision, darting forward of its own accord across the frosted grass. On shaking knees, you began sawing at the bindings around your wrists with hurried, cautious precision, freeing your hands to quickly untie the ropes restraining your ankles. With your movement unrestricted, you felt the first full breath fill your lungs in far too many fear-stained minutes, the cold air crisp and dizzying.

You were not powerless.

Paquette may have robbed you of your choice once before, nearly stripped you of so much more than that, but he could decay in the Abyss for the trouble; for believing that he could coerce and manipulate you into compliance. Into submission. Nothing would keep you down again. Nothing would keep you from standing at your rightful place: the world unfolding before you, the wind at your back.

This shard of ice was the reminder you needed—that you weren’t done, you were never done, not as long as you still had a way forward.

You leapt, diving for the brush, praying that the Treasure Hoarders hadn’t noticed you were loose as you turned all of your focus toward the dark thicket. You didn't so much as wince as thorn and bramble bit into the soft flesh of your palms and wrist; you continued patting through the tangle desperately, searching for—

There. Cold, hard Fontainian steel. Your fingers curled around the familiar hilt, feeling as your power rushed back to you like water from behind a collapsing dam, flooding all of your senses. All of your limbs vibrated with restless energy; with the hunger that had hounded you all your life, insisted that you were meant for something else than what you had been born for.

One look over your shoulder had you adjusting your grip and charging forward.

Wriothesley's eyes flared with surprise as you spun into the fray, knocking away the enormous claymore before it could make contact with his gauntlet. The woman wielding it nearly screamed in frustration as she beheld you, upright and furious before her, but just for a moment, your eyes were elsewhere.

You felt your face heat from that mere moment of Wriothesley's focus—of having those blazing eyes focused solely on you, a pride and a hunger reflecting right back, a perfect mirror of your own.

You stood firm by his side, sword drawn, and felt as though your soul was lifted on a brisk winter wind.

After some time, the clearing was finally quiet, the ringing in your ears replaced by roaring silence; your wrath now calmed to an echoing emptiness.

Your assailants hadn’t stood a chance. They attempted to regroup, to recover, but they could do nothing in the face of your joint onslaught, twin fangs of ice and steel. Quickly, so quickly, the five lay on the ground, unmoving. Dead or unconscious, you couldn’t say. You didn’t care. Bodies dotted the clearing; you could see some of their chests rising and falling in the stillness.

Over. It was over. Your body felt stiff.

You heaved but the air seemed to go right through you. Your lungs burned. You were unsure of how to loosen your fingers from the hilt of your sword. It seemed that your limbs had reached their limit for obeying your command, leaden in this bloody aftermath. Your eyes struggled to focus on your surroundings.

“Hey. You alright?” Wriothesley said from somewhere outside your blackening vision, voice muffled as though he were underwater; or maybe it was you who was submerged, somewhere deep and murky in the Fontemer. Everything was quiet, muted, sluggish.

Nausea roiled in your gut. You'd spent hundreds of hours sparring over many, many years. You'd fought harder battles than this in the ring, and yet this had been so unlike anything you’d ever experienced before.

You had fought; you had won. But the adrenaline was gone. The thrill had faded. You were not dead. You couldn’t breathe.

You couldn't breathe.

“Hey,” Wriothesley said again, slow and careful. There was a hint of something in his tone; worry, maybe? For you?

Why? You were alive, weren't you?

“Talk to me,” he said.

You were alive. Somehow. You were still alive.

Wriothesley had come. Even after you'd hurt him with open eyes and a shuttered heart, he'd found you. You had wanted him away, far, far away; you hadn't pulled your punches, repaying all the kindness he’d shown you with cruelty and dishonesty. You had aimed to sever; to break.

The look on his face had haunted you every moment since. The tragedy of your killing blow, the shattering of a promise. You had let it burn itself into your retinas, a reminder of the consequences for your myopic selfishness; for thinking that you could have it all, your family's happiness, your independence, and maybe even... maybe—

It was foolish. Impossible. Your waxen wings had been reduced to nothing more than drops in the sea, and you barreled down, down, down alongside them.

And here Wriothesley was, his good heart made plain with peace offerings disguised as spears of ice, and you had fallen in seamlessly by his side, happy to take even more that you were not owed; whatever he would give you.

Saved from the plummet you had earned yourself. You thought you’d never see him again. You couldn't bring yourself to look at him.

You fought to regain your composure, taking stock of what your senses were telling you—using them to center yourself. You were still covered head to toe in accelerant—a strangely alluring odor, thick and sweet. Your hands were frozen and shaking, your eyes wide and bone-dry. Slowly, your vision cleared bit by bit, and your eyes fell on a shaft of wood that lay beneath the reddened edge of someone’s coat. Charred but unlit; impotent.

You turned to further observe the camp and your eyes immediately fixed on the dark silhouette of the duke as his gauntlets clicked away in a flash of frost, faster than a blink. The wisps of blizzard that still remained dissipated as though the storm had never raged at all. A bird from somewhere in the wood began to sing again, life slowly creeping once more into the forest, unbothered by the violence that soaked the ground at your feet.

Your mind raced, spinning and spinning like a wheel in fresh mud. Wriothesley walked toward you, each step even and deliberate and you stubbornly looked away once more, but he was undeterred; his every footfall like a brand on your skin until he finally stopped, too close, not close enough, lifting his hands—when had he removed the fingerless gloves?—the bare skin of his scarred, freezing fingers sliding across your cheek, into the hair behind your ears; holding your face in his palms like you were something to be cherished, smearing the blood on your neck, your lip.

You allowed it. You swallowed the pulse of shame that threatened to overcome you, grappling with the instinct to flinch away from his touch, even as you craved for him to press closer, to drive his fingers into your jaw hard enough to leave a mark.

Your gaze flicked once more to the extinguished torch only a handful of steps away. The promise of death that had been smothered by a sheet of hail and rendered benign.

You screwed your eyes shut. You had been so close. So sickening close to—

“Look at me.”

His voice was quiet but calm; it was a command. A buoy in disquiet waters.

You exhaled. Reached for the salvation. Trusted Wriothesley to keep your head above water.

Your eyes finally met his.

His eyes—the exact same shade as the Fontemer—held yours, evenly, calmly; no further trace of the cold fury or the hurt or the defiance, only—

Archons damn it all.

Your free hand lifted to grip at his elbow, his sleeve bunched in your trembling fingers before you even realized you’d moved. He continued to hold your face, gently rubbing his thumb along the line of your cheekbone, beneath your eye, tracing a path so like the one that curved cruelly just beneath his own.

You breathed. He waited for you to speak.

“You're here,” you whispered. Your voice had never sounded like that; so hoarse, so quiet. The words scratched your throat.

Wriothesley’s eyes wrinkled at the corners, just barely. He held you afloat, kept you from drowning. “I'm here.”

You blinked, shaky breaths coming faster. Your rapid pulse had nothing to do with the fight. “Why?”

“Because—” he began, but then frowned and went silent, a clear, abrupt end to the thought he had started. You nearly winced as his hands fell away from you, your fingers flexing in his sleeve against your will, reluctant to let him go. You loosened your grip, letting your hand fall back to your side. You buried the ache. You didn't have the right to ask for any more than what he gave. You had already taken enough. “Because regardless of... everything else that's happened, I would never let anything happen to you if I could help it.”

Your face burned and you swallowed, wrenching your eyes away, already feeling bereft at the absence of his palms on your skin. You breathed, counting the steady ins-and-outs as you continued to regain control of your body. You scanned the clearing; eyes catching on the prone figures scattered throughout, the clumps of fabric mottled with dirt and blood.

“...Any dead?” you asked finally, dreading the answer and resenting your weakness for it.

Wriothesley scowled, looking up from the bandage he had been adjusting around his forearm. “...No. Banged up but alive. I figure the knowledge that they will have to deal with me for the foreseeable future should bring me satisfaction, but it does not.” He paused, eyes lowering to glare at the shallow cut on your neck. There was something like disgust on his face and you nearly recoiled at the sight of it. He stares at you for a moment too long before shifting his attention back to the camp. “Nothing I could do would ever be enough.”

“What do you mean?”

Wriothesley pauses and shakes his head, brushing off your question entirely; an unexpected surge of irritation rising in your chest at the dismissal, but you swiftly push it back. He cleared his throat, and you recognized the shift back to Warden. “Neuvillette will be here shortly and each will be taken in and charged in accordance with their crimes.”

“I…" you began, and then exhaled roughly. "Thank you. For finding me. I would have died if you had not.” You fidgeted under his frustratingly unintelligible gaze. "Your Grace," you finished awkwardly.

Wriothesley's expression shuttered and he sighed, turning away. You wanted to scream, to run for the hills, to shake him, to pull his face down to yours and erase that stony expression for good.

Wriothesley, on the other hand, seemed to not want much at all.

“Let’s get you home,” he said.

You nodded, but then stiffened as a thought dawned on you—one you had nearly forgotten in all the chaos. Something you needed to do; to see for yourself.

“Wait," you started, your voice catching. You realized for the first time that Lucy had somehow returned, and Wriothesley was patting her snout, murmuring to her too quietly for you to hear. He paused, looking over his shoulder at you, one dark brow raised. "Please, just... give me a minute?"

Wriothesley's brows furrowed but he nodded. “We can stay as long as you need.”

“It'll only be a minute,” you assured again, vaguely noting the flatness in your voice; the distance. Your eyes were fixed on the center tent. “I just need to be sure.”

Wriothesley followed your gaze and froze, understanding widening his eyes. He nodded again, more hesitantly than the first time, his cautious eyes trained on you as you stepped forward.

To the purple tent. To the table inside it.

To the folder.

You lifted the beige paper, let it fall open, looked at the documents within as they spilled out and across the hastily thrown rug on the ground. The untouched cot. The wooden table, bare but for the folder that had lain front and center.

Like bait.

The blood drained from your face. You had known, deep down; accepted it before the fighting had even begun, yet some part of you had still held onto the hope that the reality couldn't be so cruel. That this was just bad luck. That it was a misunderstanding.

But there had never been a job. There had never been any sensitive documents to recover. This task had had one goal and one goal alone.

Your death.

All of them. Each page. Every single one.

Blank.

“The trials are today.”

The sun was warm on your skin; the late summer morning bright and cheery and out-of-place. Flowers bloomed just beyond the confines of your sitting room window in every color imaginable, happy and vivid and blissfully oblivious to the turmoil swirling in your heart. You'd been sitting in the floral-printed armchair for hours, an untouched book buried in the folds of your dress on your lap. You couldn't recall the title; the genre, even. It lay all but forgotten as you stared out the window towards an opera house hidden behind miles and miles of burgeoning landscape.

“I’m not going."

“Oh, of course you aren’t,” Clorinde said imperiously. She huffed. “And what about your testimony? Don't you want justice for what that snake tried to pull?”

Your brow twitched in annoyance. “Of course I want justice,” you said, shooting her a glare. “I gave my witness testimony about Paquette in private to the Iudex. He said it was for my safety, but I also… I just couldn't stand to be put on display before the Court like that. To see them.” You scowled, turning your focus fully on Clorinde, abandoning your bitter vigil of the summer day that dared to be a summer day with no regard to your bad mood. “And I have nothing else to say about Thibeault besides the fact that he's a dick, which is already common knowledge. The only evidence we have against him is Wriothesley's word, though I don't think anyone is surprised that he's involved in any of...” You sniffed, waving your hands around in a vaguely all-encompassing gesture. “This. And what is with the attitude? Are you pissed at me?”

She scoffed. “Of course I’m pissed at you,” she clipped, but then sighed, some of the tension draining from her posture. “I’m mostly so glad that you’re safe. Grateful Wriothesley has as much of a knack for not minding his business and getting into trouble as you do. Relieved that you’re even here for me to be pissed at. But I am still pissed.”

In the face of her obvious concern, you immediately felt guilty for your vitriol. The defenses you'd had queued up died on your tongue. Your fingers played absentmindedly with the pages of the forgotten book—it seemed like you had grabbed one of Chloe's tedious history tomes— and your shoulders slumped. “I know,” you said pathetically. “I don't blame you for being angry. I’m sorry.”

Her gaze was unflinching and unmoved. “What were you even thinking?” she demanded. Her lovely face contorted in anger and—to your further dismay—hurt. “Why didn’t you tell me? Do you have any idea what it would do to the people who care about you if you had, Archons forbid, died?”

Your chest ached as though she'd struck you. “I didn’t want to endanger anyone else,” you said, hoping she could understand. “I only did any of it to try and protect my family. I didn't want to drag anyone else into it. Burden anyone else.”

“You don't get to decide what would be a burden for me,” she retorted. “I would never have been in danger.”

“You can’t fight your way out of every problem, Clorinde,” you snapped, and then reigned in your instinct to be defensive; took a slow, even breath. Then another. “This is bigger than just one group of Treasure Hoarders. Paquette has influence. A huge network of allies. I couldn't say what they might do to punish those who interfered. My hands were tied.”

“And what of your promises to me?” she said, purple eyes narrowed. Your stomach lurched.

“I didn’t want to break that promise,” you said honestly. “I was trying not to get him hurt. That was the problem.”

“You didn’t just break that promise," she reminded you. "You broke both.”

Your brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

Clorinde sighed, and the room went silent for long enough that you began to count the ticking of the clock in the foyer. Clorinde's eyes never left your face. Six. Seven. Her mouth tilted into a thin frown.

“...You were hurt, too,” she said quietly. Her eyes flicked to the healing wound on your neck. “In more ways than just the obvious.”

The pain pulsing just beneath your skin surged back with a vengeance, seeming to want to drive her point home. The knowledge—the force of it—was almost enough to bring you to your knees. You had lost more than your pride. More than your safety. You had maybe lost more than you were truly willing to part with, something you hadn't even realized you'd wanted to keep.

“I don’t know what to do,” you said at last, voice weak, feeling exposed. Bare. Your eyes stung. “I don't know my way back from this.”

Clorinde leaned in. Her beautiful features were schooled into a calm, steady expression that soothed you just enough to keep your clarity when it teetered so precariously on the edge of despair.

“A good place to start?” she said. "Fix it.”

You fought your hardest to stop the tears from falling; and failed. You felt warmth trailing down your cheek. “How?”

“Try telling him the full truth, maybe,” she said easily, leaning back from you to fiddle with her pistol; once more giving you the space you didn't know you needed—but she did. Clorinde always understood when to push and when to pull away. She let the pistol drop back into her holster, a faraway look on her face that began to edge suspiciously close to a smile. “And make decisions based on strength, not on weakness.”

You sniffed, swiping at your cheek. “I don’t know how to do that.”

“Sure you do. And take it from someone who cares about you,” Clorinde said with a pointed look. “And him. There are some risks worth taking. Talk to him."

You smiled weakly. “I’ll consider it.”

She nodded and shrugged, back to her usual self, and made her way to the door. She leaned against it for a beat, scanning you with that calculating look that always made you wish you knew what she was thinking. You were certain you never would. “You’re sure you’re not coming to the trials?”

“I’m sure.”

“Okay,” she said, but didn't move from her spot. Her gaze softened minutely. “I really am happy that you’re alright,” she said. “Definitely still pissed though. Next time, let me know. I’d be happy to wipe the floor with some Treasure Hoarders. Or corrupt nobles. Maybe even a Fatuus or two. Dealer's choice ”

You laughed, soft and watery. “Perhaps a Ruin Grader? As a treat?"

Clorinde gave you a mischievous smile before closing the door behind her, leaving you alone in the silence of the sitting room to continue not-reading Chloe’s tome.

You put it down, no longer willing to even entertain the facade that you were going to read it.

You'd had enough of ruses to last a lifetime.

Sigewinne clucked as Wriothesley finally dragged himself into her clinic. “I’m glad you’re safe.”

Wriothesley offered her a wry smile, already smelling the blood in the water at her tone, so unlike her usual playful lilt. He had been wary at her request—her demand, really—that Wriothesley come pay her a visit at the clinic and his suspicions were now unfortunately confirmed. “Are you upset with me?"

Sigewinne lifted her chin, neatly tucking away a roll of clean bandages into a tall cabinet and pulling out a stack of paperwork from a different one. Wriothesley couldn't help but feel like she was working aimlessly for lack of anything else to do with her deft hands.

“No,” she lied, flipping through the documents.

Wriothesley's smile turned a bit more genuine, hit with a wave of fondness for the Melusine. “Why are you upset with me?” he asked gently.

Sigewinne sniffed. “I'm not upset at you,” she said, closing her eyes and setting the papers she had been sorting through on her desk. "It's just that I’ve known you for a very long time, Your Grace. You forget what that means.”

Wriothesley hummed. It was true—he was fairly sure the only person he had known longer was Neuvillette, and even then only because he had been the one to sentence Wriothesley for his crimes. It was hardly like the friendship they had now. Sigewinne, on the other hand, had been patching him up since he was a teenager whenever he got into a scrap—and Wriothesley was always getting into scraps. It had been she who first offered him the salve he still used to ease the pain when the old wounds on his body flared up. It was also she who always offered him an ear or a shoulder when the wounds on his soul ached or burned, too.

In many ways, he owed the man he eventually grew to be to her. Her care. Her patience. He would never be able to repay that debt, no matter how many years he lived but, Archons, would he try.

Wriothesley tilted his head. “And what does that mean?”

Sigewinne crossed her arms, a familiar look coloring her features—one that meant she was going to speak her mind, and Wriothesley was going to listen. “In all the years I’ve known you, I have never seen you as happy as you were when she was around.”

Wriothesley's smile fell; his heart fractured further, cracks spidering out from the weak points that had already been gone over with a pick. “There’s nothing I can do about it, Sigewinne,” he said softly, knowing there was no point in trying to convince her she was off the mark. She knew him better than anyone, had spent many years analyzing his tells and body language. She had Wriothesley down to a science. “Ultimately, it’s not up to me.”

“You could try being honest.”

“I never lied to her.”

“You omitted truths.”

Wriothesley dragged a hand through his hair, further ruining his thin efforts to make himself presentable. “It isn’t that simple.”

Sigewinne's topaz eyes were bright and sharp, unrelenting —Wriothesley sometimes forgot how much older than him she was. How much wisdom had such a being amassed over the centuries?

It made him feel so young again.

Sigewinne stayed silent for a long while.

“Do you care about her?” she asked at last.

"Of course I do," he said simply. He frowned. "I think that much has been made obvious."

“Then it really is just that simple, Wriothesley,” Sigewinne said, a tiny triumphant quirk to her lips.

"She doesn't want this."

“I’ve seen you fight for what you want time and time again. Why not this? Why not her?”

“She doesn’t want me, Sigewinne,” he said, barely more than a whisper. He felt another streak of pain at the words. “She’s made that abundantly clear.”

Sigewinne rolled her eyes, then leveled an unimpressed stare at him. “Stupid isn’t a good look on you, Your Grace."

Wriothesley balked. "Rude.”

Sigewinne offered him a small, playful grin in return, her gemstone eyes gleaming in the harsh clinic light before her smile faded. Her eyes were no less gentle when said said, “Just try talking to her, Wriothesley. Don’t let this be the first time you surrender.”

Wriothesley was… Well. If he hadn't already experienced the entire range of human emotion in a few short days, he couldn’t be sure he'd have been able to put a cap on the waterworks. As it was, he wasn't sure how believable his composure was.

Knowing Sigewinne, she wasn't convinced.

She quirked a brow at him. Definitely not convinced.

Wriothesley dipped his head to the Head Nurse, ready to flee so he could go think—fall apart, his mind unhelpfully corrected—in his office. “Thanks, Sigewinne. I’ll think about it.”

“That’s all I ask.”

He turned to leave but was halted by the sound of a throat clearing meaningfully behind him.

He turned and Sigewinne grinned, holding out a small jar with a colorful liquid that made Wriothesley audibly groan.

“Don’t forget your smoothie,” she said innocently.

The Steambird — September 14 Paquette Convicted and Thibeault Exonerated in Murder-for-Hire Conspiracy

a\n: sigewinne appreciation lifestyle

title from 'iris' by the goo goo dolls

this is kind of an interlude where the kids get a good talking to from the Common Sense Duo which was deceptively hard to write lmao. someone explain to me how i can write 95% of a chapter in one sitting like a madwoman and then struggle with the last 5% every. single. time

sorry for the delay (again), thanks for the comments (as always), and i hope everyone had a happy, healthy december ❄️

[ziptiesnfries]

generally i have a policy for myself about not getting too mad about silly internet things, but for some reason i can't keep myself from being pissed about staff's little "update" on desktop that makes it impossible to see someone's previous reblog/their prev tags/etc.

specifically i'm pissed about it because i saw a post about it from someone who's on staff who was trying to claim that it's making things more "user friendly/intuitive" because "people who mostly use other sites are confused by it" (this is my own paraphrasing, i'm not trying to make claims about any staff member's personal opinion on it, etc.)

like. the thing is that tumblr's reblog system is pretty fucking unique amongst websites, so tumblr is already going to be a learning curve for people who haven't used it before. AND sending a user to the top of someone's blog when they were trying to access the previous reblog on a post does nothing but piss everyone off. AND it's unnecessary, because with the way things worked before, there was just one tiny extra step in accessing the top of someone's blog, if that's what you were trying to do. if you wanted to see prev tags? fuck you, i guess, because tumblr is trying to be ~more like other websites~

[i-am-the-oyster]

Reblogs and comments and asks, oh my!

When I first joined tumblr I was extremely confused about the different types of interactions, having figured it out gradually I've found myself explaining it to a couple of people recently, so here's my quick guide.

OP means "original poster" and prev means "previous poster" (the blog you saw the post on)

tldr;

Reblog - put it on your own blog Comment - talk to OP about the post, but in public Message - direct message using the worst interface ever! Ask - invite someone to make a post based on your message Like - let prev know you like the post but you don't want it on your blog

Reblog

This is the most common type of interaction. You see a post on someone else's blog and you put a copy of it on yours. You can add text and or tags. I add text if I'm hoping to add something to the conversation that will get passed on down the chain. Tags are supposed to help you find your post in future, and to help other people find it, but tumblr search sucks donkey balls so people mostly use them to be hilarious.

Note: it is a copy. If the original gets deleted, reblogs persist.

Comment

This is especially confusing for people coming from other platforms. Comments are mainly for conversing with OP. If you comment on a post only the person who posted it and the person who's blog you saw it on will be notified. You can @ tag other people (say, someone who has already commented) to alert them.

Note: in general the more notes a post has the less OP wants to see conversation in the comments. Some people consider it very rude to carry on a conversation without them, in their comments.

Message

Speaking of parts of tumblr that suck donkey balls. Messaging is fine for a brief chat, but scrollback is so bad, there are no timestamps, notifications are borked. If you want to have a proper chat, this is a very painful way to do it.

Ask

This is one of my favourite things about tumblr. If someone expresses in interesting opinion, and you don't want to derail the post: send an ask. If someone seems like an expert on something you care about: send an ask. If you don't want your blog associated with it, or you're feeling shy, send it anonymously. If you feel like being rude or sending hate, please fuck off and stop ruining other people's day.

Like

This is a Source of Great Controversy. Some people love to receive a like, some people hate it. Some people will go through an entire blog liking 30 or 40 posts at a time and it might win them a friend, or it might get them blocked. It doesn't achieve anything for any algorithm (yet, as far as we know) but it does make a kind of bookmark for you, and potentially cause a strong emotional reaction in someone else.

[craftycheetah]

The crisp spring night air coursed through you from the open window as you finished feeding the cats. “Goodnight, you precious little fur babies. I’ll be back tomorrow. Sleep well,” you smile, turning off the cafe lights, closing the window, making sure everything was packed away, and the register was locked.

Closing the front door, you placed your copy of the store keys in your pocket and stretched before searching in your bag for your phone and headphones.

Hitoshi pulled up about half a block away from the cafe with a small box in hand, hoping to catch the store before closing. Shit, she’s about to leave. Maybe I can ask her for help. He noticed the braided down puff of hair and your casual wear when he walked up to you. Fiddling with the large box containing a sick kitten he found not too far away from the cafe, he walked up to you attempting to get your attention.

Feeling something press into your back, you stiffened when you slowly turned around and saw the man you recognized as the biker who ordered, during your shift a couple days ago, walking up to you with a large box.

“Um, excuse me? Are y—AH!” he starts before shouting as you interrupt him.

As quickly as possible, you grabbed your can of pepper spray and sprayed it in his face in self-defense.

“What was that for?!” he shouts, shielding his now severely irritated eyes.

“You strolled up to me, pushed something into my back, and expected not to get hurt in some way?! Ugh, typical bikers, airheaded brutes,” you groan. You get ready to berate him, only to stop when you hear a weak meow come from the box he once held. “What was that?”

“I was trying to tell you I found a kitten in a box and was wondering if you could help me, but now I can’t fucking see, so thanks for that!”

“I am so sorry! Let me take the kitten inside then I’ll drive you to the hospital.”

“You owe me anyways. God, I can’t see!”

“That’s for scaring the shit out of me and for your little gang of rough riders scaring the poor cafe residents.”

Unlocking the cafe door, you turn on the lights and spend the next hour cleaning up and feeding the poor kitten. After putting them in an incubator, you re-pet all the cats goodbye again, repeat your earlier shutdown routine, lock the door, and pull down the fencing. “Let’s get you to the hospital…uh, what’s your name?”

“Shinsou.”

“Right,” you sigh. “To the hospital.”

Hitoshi felt around for your hand before holding it, “Lead the way.”

Purr Like An Engine pt.3

←prev || Masterlist || next→

»Summary: Bikers weren’t necessarily a problem in your city, but to you, they were like the bubonic plague. After running into one of them, you had to ask yourself, are bikers really that much of a nuisance?

Ghost readers don’t get fed!

Taglist: @endeavours-jockstrap @milkmademozzarella @mxonigirimiya @kurocantcommunicate @minninugget @readergurl20 @kingsheir

Send an ask if you want to be on the taglist!

© craftycheetah: all rights reserved. Do not edit, modify, repost, or claim my works as your own. Reblogs are appreciated.

[heich0e]

if you've sent in an ask lately that i didn't respond to, it may be answered under the cut! i'll be dividing these posts up by general subject matter so no one has to scroll for too long to find any asks they may have sent. feel free to block the tag #liv got mail if you don't like seeing posts like this. i'm sorry to have kept you waiting, and p.s. i love you very much <3

part four: fic stuff, etc. ✉

✉ Anonymous asked: liv no one writes suna like you how am i supposed to go on when you hate him (affectionately)

u should try hating on him too it's very liberating and he's an easy target <3

✉ Anonymous asked: not a day goes by when I don't think about pollute I deeply thank you for making it 🩷😔🙏

ahhhh yes... polluted.... my gang-num opus.... thank u for enjoying one of the nastiest things i have ever written we are in this together now!!

✉ @just-jordie-things asked: hello here like everyone else to make sure you get so much love for your mini series with megumi 🤗🤭 (and also i just binged the rest of your work too 😭 😂) i love your writing style it’s so addicting i feel so involved in your stories. and i just loooove how you write megumi !! excellent work i hope you had fun with it!! have a great day/night 🫶

HI JORDIE!! u are SO KIND!! i am so happy you enjoyed the series (and hopefully whatever else you read!!) and i really really really REALLLLY appreciate you taking a moment to share these sweet words w me. sending u love and endless gratitude!! <3

✉ Anonymous asked: Hey Liv, just wanted to reach out to you

Hopefully you don't feel overwhelmed or something like that regarding your last series and everything that came along with it (also your last asks were... Let's say bizarre), so I just wanted to remind you that while I think you're an amazing writer and love what you post, I do not simply follow you for the content you put out: in fact I've become more an more interested in your persona, I think you're hilarious and witty and kind and I find myself looking forward to even you reblogging art and your keysmashes in the tags

Thank you for being so special Liv!!♥️🤩

this really ought to have gone in the love letter section because it's so incredibly sweet of you to say. u might have questionable taste in girlbloggers but omg your heart is so beautiful and kind :') thank YOU for making me FEEL so special, and for taking the time out of your life to do so. i adore u more than i could ever say and i am sending u roughly 92 MILLION kisses. love u so big.

✉ Anonymous asked: hi liv! whenever u see this i just wanted to say that im sorry u felt like u couldnt continue posting smth u created and had fun making onto ur little corner of the internet that we all have the privilege of sharing w u 🖤 it rlly does hurt when smth we make and are excited to share with others isnt met w the same kind of enthusiasm. even tho it's understandable why some ppl weren't huge fans of ur mini megumi series, im sure it was still a bit hurtful. i just wanted to say that everything you create, no matter who likes or dislikes it, is beautiful and deserving of love and recognition for the effort, time and emotions you put into making it. i hope ur break is relaxing and lovely, and i cant wait to continue supporting u and ur creativity when u get back 🖤🖤🖤

thank u little guy. i appreciate you and these words very very much <3

✉ Anonymous asked: just read the Megumi drabble series and saw your prev asks answering the continuation of it, and let me just say that (a) i LOVED the series it's absolutely adorable and also angsty and (b) i completely understand if you decide not to continue!!!! i just wanted to show some support ❤️❤️ your writing's incredible ❤️❤️ regardless of if it'll continue or not, it was an amazing read!

thank you for reading and enjoying it!! you are so sweet!! sending u a big tight squeeze

✉ Anonymous asked: LOVE YOUR LATEST MEGUMI FIC!!! I know it’s easier said than done but I hope you become more comfortable with posting whatever you want in you little corner of the internet!!!

ahhhhhh i hope so too!! and i am so grateful you enjoyed it!! thank you friend <3

✉ Anonymous asked: I loved the recent series of veterinarian Megumi and his son so much, I loved your writing. I understand you're not going to continue, but I appreciate you writing it anyway.💓

and i appreciate u reading it!!!! and enjoying it!! it means so much to me!! blowing u a big kiss rn

✉ Anonymous asked: hi hi Liv ❤️ I just wanted to say I respect your choice to not post more of your oopsy baby series to prevent others from becoming uncomfortable, and I just hope it doesn’t diminish your own joy for writing and creating.

I think it’s totally fair to acknowledge that you hadn’t included a warning or anything about the kid (almost definitely) being Megumi and reader’s, cuz that happens sometimes! Things slip through! But at the same time people don’t have to keep reading if they get to a point they’re not enjoying it.

I think I speak for a lot of people when I say I just want you to be happy in your space, so whatever way you choose to achieve that is of course the best choice for you ❤️❤️

hi hi FRIEND!! thank you for such sweet words and for being so understanding and kind. LOVE UUUUUU

✉ Anonymous asked: just wanna compliment you cause its honestly so impressive that you managed to write and outline multiple stories in the past two weeks. you never fail to amaze me with your creativity keep up with the amazing stuff and take care of yourself :)

i feel so SO lucky to have an outlet to dump all my silly little ideas into when they strike, and to have people (like you!!) who are there to enjoy them along with me!! hope you're well sweet thing!!

✉ Anonymous asked: PLEASE GOD YOUR WRITING IS IMMACULATE. LIKE DOWNRIGHT SWEEPING ME OFF MY FEET IN HAPPINESS WHEN I SEE YOU POST IMMACULATE.

write whatever makes you comfortable, parenthood or not because after all, YOU are the one who is writing it and everyone has their own responsibility to scroll if they dont like your comment. anyway, sending lots of love, YOU DESERVE IT ALL!!

WAHHH u are so kind!! sending u a big squish and so much love right back <3 and thank you for such a lovely bit of reassurance i appreciate u!!

[one last note: there were some other asks about the mini megumi series that i wasn't sure if i should include. i never want to post or share anything that someone might interpret as targeted, or alienating, or sensitizing in any way—and i'm ready to move on and not rehash any old wounds. i know they all came from a very kind place, and i am so truly and sincerely appreciative of anyone who reached out to check on me, or support me, or tell me that they enjoyed the series. love u always and tremendously, liv. xx]

[scoobydoodean]

About Me Being a Jackass

So. As some of you saw, the other day I fucked up. I am not going to apologize for the fact that something offended me or for my opinion, but I am sorry for how I addressed it. Regardless of how much or little offense what someone else said made me feel, I am the bigger asshole at the end of the day, because I perpetuated a message that screenshotting people’s tags to shit on them behind their back is okay.

@ original person involved: I haven't deleted my posts, because the nature of Tumblr is that other copies of what happened remain on various blogs regardless, and I didn’t want you to feel like I was trying to hide what was said at least until I had made this post establishing that I am the asshole. However, I will go back and hide everything from being visible to randoms opening the notes to minimize the potential of you receiving grief from anyone, and if you would like me to, I will also DM this post to those who reblogged the original incident and ask them to delete their copies of it from their blogs. I can’t promise compliance, but I figure if I ask nicely as the OP, I might have decent luck.

Back to the general audience: I have a few lessons for myself here, and I hope you read them and consider learning from my mistakes too (if you aren't already too smart to be like my dumbass).

Never respond to something that annoyed, offended, irritated, or grossed you out at 3AM. This is, universally, a bad idea. This is something I actually know already, from my many years on the internet, so there isn't an excuse. I have had, "Oh thank god" moments before when waking up to look at things I decided the night before, to not put out into the world and to sit on instead to see how I felt about them the next morning. Rarely have I ever woken up no longer feeling negatively about what someone else said, but I at least wake up with a clearer head on the appropriate response to it. So don't do it. Just shut the fuck up and go to bed. You will save yourself from a lot of stupid decisions.

Never assume that using tags to comment on something means it won't get screenshotted and re-tagged with more note-passing-in-class-style commentary. The person who tagged my post didn't expect anyone to respond. They likely expected at most for their friends to maybe like it and maybe a reblog with '#prev'. I responded to the tags they didn't expect me to comment on while also tagging my addition for something and expecting it to stay on my blog and for nobody to reblog the tags I had added, which was fucking dumb considering the thing I literally just did is make somebody else's tags show hole.

Never assume that reposting something to a sideblog where you don't have very many followers is sufficiently private. It is still an online space. It is not private. If you MUST be upset and vent IMMEDIATELY because you CANNOT help yourself, send it in a DM to your friend instead.

Never assume that leaving off someone's username from their tags when you screenshot them is sufficient to protect that person's identity. Especially not when you are stupid and screenshot their tags on the very post where they tagged what they tagged. There is no excuse for me, because just the other day, I saw someone else post a screenshot of tags on one of their posts (in a separate post, to disagree with them) and almost reblogged it, but then realized that would spread it further around the circle and would feel like bullying to me because it was all being said behind their back. Then my dumbass went and did something that fostered an even more potentially harmful environment for another person... by doing the same thing on the actual post. To my knowledge, I don't believe anyone retaliated directly against the person in question through their mailbox or DMs (and if anyone did, I will lob a spear into your computer over wifi), but I created a potential that was very real for that to happen, and the actual outcome, where people were just shitting on them in my notes, was already bad enough. Just don't screenshot tags you don't like to talk about them, actually. Go to bed. Later on, maybe write your own post in your own words about the idea you saw that you didn't like (not the person who said the idea—the idea. The person is just a person). You'll have a clearer head then anyway and you'll be a lot more eloquent and level-headed.

If the joke you are telling by being snarky about someone's tags you screenshotted is "Haha now we are all mischaracterizing each other", don't go back 5 minutes later and tag what they said for biphobia. If you keep looking at what they said and find it offends you more and more because that's genuinely what you see in it regardless of what was intended, just delete your reblog. It isn’t like you’re having a fun time like you were 5 minutes ago. You are promoting something that makes you feel bad and you have figured out at least one reason why. Also, it will turn into accusations of someone being an evil irredeemable villain when other people pass it around to shit on the person for what they said and what you said about what they said and add more transgressions they committed to the list (see Part 2). If you believe something is intentionally and maliciously offensive (that wasn't the case here FYI) you still shouldn't put it on the dash imo because you'll be giving it a platform. You should block the person if you believe they're actually a bigoted asshole.

Remember that this is all media.

When an offended party's friend DMs you, and in the process of trying to defend their friend while extending an olive branch, actually hands you an olive branch full of spiders (i.e., saying more things that make you go 🙈) just don't respond and move on with your life. It isn't worth it. Tangentially: on the initial (before shit hit the fan) subject and everything you two have left me with as responses from the thread of the initial subject... I won't respond any further about our differing analysis, because I can tell you for a fact it won't be productive. Based on what has been said so far, and how each successive argument that has been brought up included more things that I vehemently disagree with in terms of how it frames a person's lived experiences and issues and how they define a person's value... we simply shouldn't continue talking about it. That doesn't mean I think you're bad people, but it does mean the conversation will only come with more bad vibes for all of us and more hurt feelings. Once again: sorry for being a flaming jackass.

[claireneto]

I posted 197 times in 2022

39 posts created (20%)

158 posts reblogged (80%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@akajustmerry

@decisiontoleave

@albertserra

@trelaney

@bikenesmith

I tagged 181 of my posts in 2022

Only 8% of my posts had no tags

#palestine - 15 posts

#signal boost - 12 posts

#prev - 11 posts

#montgomery clift - 11 posts

#lgbt - 9 posts

#bi tag - 7 posts

#text - 6 posts

#ukraine - 5 posts

#movies - 5 posts

#books - 4 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#final thought is that selina deserves her own agency outside of bruce yet they can still be in a relationship where the dynamic is balanced

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

"If you're sending Moses bullying messages, you are no Star Wars fan".

Hearing Ewan say this is so important to calling the racist bullshit that poc (mainly black actors go through). The racism that spews through popular communities like SW needs to stop. Moses is an incredible actress and doesn't need this bullshit from so-called SW "fans".

23 notes - Posted June 1, 2022

#4

Happy birthday to James Dean, a bicon, who was pictured reading poetry by James Whitcomb Riley in his hometown of Fairmount, IN (1955). ❤️💜💙

33 notes - Posted February 8, 2022

#3

See the full post

34 notes - Posted March 6, 2022

#2

Icon 👑

49 notes - Posted July 7, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

As much as I love Nope 2022, there needs to be a conservation about how people used Mary Jo Elliott's shot from the trailer for their alien theories. If you haven't seen Nope, in the beginning with Gordy's birthday party he disfigures Mary Jo Elliot, a cast member with Jupe. Later it is revealed she survived and wears a veil to cover her face. In the trailer she looks up revealing her face post-Gordy attack and after that singular moment I saw people actuating that she is an alien to or her face is placed by a UFO for clickbait. I couldn't find the video but remember there was one distinctly titled "Are they an Alien?" next to Mary's face.

If some people had brain cells or a literal critical thinking they could tell that this person is a survivor of an attack (which I even thought was an acid attack due to the severity of the scars). And when it turns out it was from Gordy, the people who the made videos recanted their theories but it doesn't make it right to use a disabled/disfigured person whether real or fictional to use their image for clickbait.

Here are some examples of the thumbnails that are still up:

See the full post

138 notes - Posted September 7, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[harringtonstilinski]

You Always Be My Hero - Chapter 84 ; Relics

Author: @harringtonstilinski Characters: Stiles Stilinski x Emma Thomas (OC) Word Count: 4,049 Warnings: angst, A/N: Hi, friends! 84 Chapters down, 16 to go!! Emma is going to be with Scott (platonically) until Chapter 90. If you like this chapter, please do not hesitate to reblog and give some feedback, whether it be in the reblogs, comments, or my inbox. As always, read at your own risk and enjoy 😊

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The next morning, we called Liam, Mason and Corey over to Scott’s house. And yes… I chewed Corey out for bringing the Ghost Rider into our world.

We were all currently standing under what looked like a lightning strike on the ceiling. 

“That’s how he got in?” Corey asked.

“What is it?” Liam asked.

“It’s a point of impact from a lightning strike,” Mason said.

“Usually you’d find charred spots like that on the ground after a violent thunderstorm,” I added, still staring at the spot on the ceiling. I noticed from the corner of my eye that Scott looked from me to the charred spot.

“That’s how the Ghost Rider got in,” Scott said. “He rode the lightning.” 

“There ya go, Scotty,” I sassed, patting his shoulder.

He looked over at Liam for further explanation after putting two and two together.

“If they can use lightning to get past the Mountain Ash--” Liam said.

“No place is safe,” Scott said.

“What about the others?” Corey asked. “It’s my fault they’re marked.”

“Yeah, we’re still gonna talk about that,” I said, looking at my cousin.

“We’ll find a way to protect them,” Scott said, looking around at the four of us before landing his eyes on my own. “All of them.”

~~~

Standing in the hallway at school, Lydia had something to show us. A student ID card.

“It’s a relic,” Lydia said.

“What’s a relic?” Malia asked.

“An object with a fixed association to the past,” Lydia informed. “Jake’s ID was left behind after he was taken. And Gwen found her sister’s bracelet on her bedroom floor.”

“How can someone be erased, and still leave something behind?”

I reached for my ring, wearing it proudly over my shirt… even if Stiles wasn’t here… or if he was real, but I knew in my heart that he was.

“A conservation of mass,” I said, looking from my spot on the floor to Scott and Malia’s questioning eyes… and sighed. “The total mass of any isolated system remains constant.”

Scott looked at me and raised his brows. “So, even the Ghost Riders have a weakness.”

Getting excited about the possibility I see in her eyes, Malia reached for Jake’s ID in Lydia’s hand, stating, “A relic would be proof that Stiles existed.”

I watched as Scott’s face lit up with hope. “And maybe we can bring him back.”

“We have to,” I whispered, looking down at my shoes.

“We will, Em. Don’t worry,” Scott said, putting his hand on my shoulder, squeezing in reassurance.

“Thanks, Scotty.”

“Come on. I hear a little argument going on,” Scott said, moving his arm around my shoulders to guide me to the library. When we walked in, I looked up and saw that Mason and Liam were facing each other, saying something back and forth. 

“We need to hide them,” Mason said.

“We need to fight them,” Liam countered.

“We need to hide them.”

“Who’s them?” Scott and I asked.

“The Ghost Riders,” Liam said, rather quickly.

“The kids at the party,” Mason said.

I put my hand up, taking a long blink like you would when feeling a headache coming on. “You both are about to send me into whiplash.”

“Got it,” Scott said.

“Do the both of you have any ideas on the points of your little argument?” I asked, crossing my arms.

“We could get a lightning rod, attract the Ghost Riders and catch them off guard,” Liam said.

“Mason?” I asked, dragging his name a little.

“But since everyone from the party is in danger,” Mason said. “All we need to do is find a safe place to hide them until the storm passes.”

“The Ghost Riders ride the lightning. Nowhere is safe,” Liam countered.

“It is, if we’re underground,” Mason explained. “The Earth can ground the lightning’s electrical charge. Everyone would be safe.”

I sighed and essentially face palmed at these boys.

“Okay…” Scott said, placing his bag down and sitting in the chair he was leaning against. “Here’s what we’re gonna do.”

“Oh, you have a plan now?” I sassed, looking down at my werewolf friend.

“Yes, now sit down and listen,” Scott said, exasperatedly.  

I sighed… for the millionth time, and sat down in the chair in front of me.

“We take everyone to the Argent Bunker, it’s underground. It’s lined with Mountain Ash.”

“We stopped the Ghost Riders last night,” Liam said. “We can do it again.”

“How?” I asked. I was getting very aggravated at the whole situation.

Scott looked at me. “They didn’t stop them,” he said to me, then turned to look back at the boys. “They retreated. We don’t know why.”

We all looked at Liam, waiting for his answer before he shook his head a couple times.  “Okay. How do we get everyone inside the bunker?”

~~~

During my free period, I took the ID from Lydia and went straight to the station, fully intending on talking to my godfather about this.

After walking straight into the station, I walked past my dad’s desk, giving him a quick kiss on his cheek before barging into Sheriff’s office, handing him the ID.

“Noah, I need to search the house,” I huffed.

“You wanna search my house? Which you used to live in?” Sheriff asked.

“Yes,” I said, nodding once. “People are leaving things behind. So if Stiles left anything--”

“Why-- why would it be there?” Sheriff asked.

“You can’t just erase people, Noah. They leave things behind,” I said as gently as I could.

He sighed and I sat down in the chair behind me, leaning my elbows on my knees, face in the palms of my hands. I heard something being dropped, so I looked up a little, my hands coming to rest against my mouth as I looked at Sheriff.

“I couldn’t sleep last night,” he said. “So, uhm, I got up, figured I’d do some paperwork. The files were in the back of my car. So, I--I go to the garage, and some junk has fallen off a shelf and I--I stub my toe on an old baseball bat. Without thinking, I yelled a name--”

I lowered my hands as he told me this chain of events, looking him dead in the face. I grabbed my ring again, holding it in my hand. “Stiles.”

~~~

Sheriff granted me permission to search my former home for any relics Stiles might’ve left behind. I had a funny feeling it wasn’t going to be here, but I wanted to search anyway.

Claudia had let me in, although she didn’t seem too happy about it.

I started my search in the living room, looking at the pictures that I had grown accustomed to looking at, searching for anything out of the ordinary with the photos, but I came up short.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Claudia asked, causing me to jump a little.

“No, but thanks, Claudia,” I said, giving her the nicest smile I could muster.

“Well, good luck,” she sighed. “I’ll leave you to it.”

My suspicions about my godmother seemed to raise every time I saw her. I looked around a little more, trying to get my Banshee senses to tingle. I remembered the older woman I saw last week going into the hallway the bedrooms were in.

As I was passing the table with the decor on it, I heard what sounded like breathing. Think Darth Vader breathing.

I reached up to touch the wallpaper when I jumped from seeing a guy in my peripherals. 

“You didn’t see it, did you?” he asked.

“See what?” I asked.

“It’s right in front of your face,” he said. 

I looked back at the wall, putting my fingertips to it. I went to look back at the guy, but he had disappeared. Looking back at the wallpaper, I noticed that the seam wasn’t fully attached to the wall. Going with my gut instinct, I started ripping it off the wall… before a hand grabbed my wrist, causing me to jump.

“What are you doing?” Claudia asked.

“Aunt Clauds, you’re hurting me,” I said, voice tight from trying to hold back tears.

She let go of my wrist, immediately putting her hand on the paper, trying to get it to stick back.

“I’m so sorry, Claudia. I shouldn’t have done that,” I said. Complete bullshit lie.

“I think that’s something we can agree on,” she said, clearly upset. “If you still lived here, I would’ve sent you to your room.”

“Well, it’s a good thing I don’t anymore,” I spat, walking around her and into the living room.

I gathered my things and left as quickly as I could. Once I got into my Jeep and started it up, I looked back at the house, shaking my head.

“That’s not the Claudia I remember.”

~~~

I had gotten a text from Coach, telling me that I needed to get my ass to the school pronto for the game. His words, not mine.

After I got to the school and changed, I went straight to the field, clipboard in hand. What was written in the corner of my clipboard confused me a little.

24 ♥

I shook my head at it at first, but something told me that the person who wore this number had to be connected to the person who gave me the promise ring I proudly wore around my neck.

As a few players from each team were warming up on the field, I felt Scott, Liam and Corey walking up. So, without looking up from my clipboard, I walked over to them, listening in on their conversation.

“I’ll take Steinbach and Wallace,” Scott said, looking at each boy as he said his next statements. “You take Gwen. You’re on Okafur.”

Corey looked from his target back to Scott. “What if I see Ghost Riders?”

“Deal with it,” I said. I looked up at the three Were’s standing before me with looks that said not now, so I sighed and looked at Corey. “You yell.”

“Then get ready to fight,” Scott said.

The ref then blew the whistle, signaling the start of the game, players grunting as they played the game. Corey aimed for Okafur… who knocked him to the ground.

“Find your own space,” Okafur said.

This irritated me to no end. No one pushes my cousin to the ground like that. Since I was standing by Coach, I saw as he rubbed the back of his head in an aggravated way as the other team scored, our crowd booing them.

“Don’t worry, Bobby,” I said, rubbing his back. “I’m sure we’ll come back around.”

Next play, Liam and Gwen went down to the ground.

“You wanna back off?” Gwen said, taking her helmet off about halfway.

Again, the other team scored. I groaned and put my palm to my forehead. I felt a hand on my shoulder and knew exactly who it was.

“Don’t worry, Emma,” Coach said. “I’m sure we’ll come back around.”

I picked my head up to glare at him, giving him eyes that said I was unamused.

Scott tried to get Steinbach, but both of them and another player went down to the ground.

“Come on, man,” Steinbach said. “There’s no ghosts out here, McCall.”

“Yeah, but they could show up,” I muttered.

Another score for the other team, and Coach had a minor freak out, but so did I.

“What are you doing out there?” Coach yelled.

“I’m gonna kill the three of you!” I added, throwing my clipboard down to the ground.

Coach walked up the field a little as I stayed put in my spot. I could feel Mason behind me. I bent over and picked up my clipboard off the ground, running my thumb over the 24 and heart in the corner.

“Do these guys ever practice?” Lori asked.

“Not enough,” Sydney answered.

I could feel Mason having a small freak out, so I turned around and walked over to him, sitting beside him. “It’s just first period, Mason. If we ever come back around, we’ll still win.”

He looked at me with hope in his eyes. I smiled lightly at him before getting back up and going back to where I was standing next to Coach.

I watched the next play, seeing one of the other team’s members and one of our members jumping at each other.

“Yes. Yes. Yes,” Mason said.

The other team scored, and I guess Mason decided to switch schools for a moment as he stood and yelled “Yes!”

I turned around just as Sydney and Lori looked up at him, the three of us stating, “Wrong team.”

“Sorry,” Mason said. I watched as he got down from the bleachers, but my attention ended up going back to the field, Coach standing next to me again.

Just as soon as the next play started, two fights broke out between our team and the opposing team. Liam took off his helmet and turned to Scott and walked over to him.

“Yes, Dunbar!” Coach said. “That’s the kind of passion I want to see. Unleash hell!”

I rolled my eyes at my uncle and walked over to Scott and Liam. 

“What’s gotten into everyone?��� Liam asked.

Scott looked behind him at another potential fight, then at both teams, ours taken the most hits. He looked at me, turning his body more towards me. “What if it’s the Wild Hunt? What if it’s affecting everyone?”

We both looked up at the sky at the sound of thunder rumbling.

I felt Mason running up, so I turned on my heel and ran towards him, seeing that he was now standing in front of Hayden.

“It’s Parrish. He’s the reason the Ghost Rider left the party,” Mason said.

“Parrish?” Hayden and I asked.

“Call you sister,” Mason said, looking at Hayden. He then turned to me, saying, “Call your dad. Tell them we need to meet Parrish at the school right now.”

“What about Gwen? What about the other players? We have to keep them safe,” Hayden said.

“Parrish could keep everyone safe.”

The three of us turned our heads at the sound of a horse neighing.

It started raining, a lightning crack following soon after. I ran out to Scott on the field just as he was taking off his helmet, Corey rushing over to us.

“They’re here,” Corey said.

“Liam!” Scott and I yelled.

Liam took off his helmet as he stood next to Gwen. “I see ‘em!”

The ref blew his whistle as Scott, Corey and I stood in the middle of the field, the other players taking off to the benches, Steinbach and Wallace standing behind us.

“Oh, come on, ref!” Coach yelled. “This is barely a thunderstorm!”

“Oh, Bobby. You have no idea what’s going on,” I muttered.

“Em, you need to get somewhere safe,” Scott said.

“I can’t even see them, Scotty. Neither can you.”

“Em--”

“You’re my best friend, and I’m not letting you do this alone.”

He sighed before saying, “Don’t leave my side.”

Lightning cracked again, causing me to duck down for a moment.

Liam and Gwen ran over to us, Gwen standing with Steinback and Wallace.

“We got all three, right?” Scott asked.

“Scott, there were four,” Liam said.

“Who was the fourth one?” I asked.

Scott grabbed my hand before touching Corey, sending us into Corey’s world. I saw what everyone was talking about. A Ghost Rider. Ugly creature. It looked like it had no eyes, it’s skin was pulled tight. It looked like it had strings attached at its lips, keeping its mouth shut. Reminded me a little of Billy from Hocus Pocus. And it was definitely riding a horse.

A boy was screaming as he was being dragged along the ground by a rope that was attached at his feet before he vanished into a green smoke.

“What the hell?” I said. I looked around and saw that multiple people were standing. “Shit,” I muttered.

“What?” Scott asked.

“Those people standing. They can see the Ghost Rider,” I said. Then they started running from the bleachers.

Steinbach and Wallace took their helmets off, freaking out now that they could see the Ghost Rider.

“Oh, my God!” Okafur said. “They’re real!”

“We gotta get out of there!” Steinbach said.

“Yeah, no shit!” I exclaimed.

“Stay together,” Liam said. “We’ll protect you.”

“How?” Gwen asked.

Three Ghost Riders on horseback made their way towards us. To say that I was scared as hell would be an understatement.

“Run!” Scott yelled.

All of us turned to run towards the school, but was stopped by Scott grabbing onto me and Corey. I knew this because more Ghost Riders were visible.

“Stay close!” Liam yelled.

One of the Ghost Riders brought his gun out, which sufficiently scared me. Even though my dad’s a Deputy and my godfather is the Sheriff, guns still scare me… or at least they do now.

Scott grabbed onto me as Okafur was emitted into green smoke after getting shot by the Ghost Rider, shocked looks on both of our faces at what we’d just seen.

Scott’s grip on Corey loosened as Corey ran forward to be in the front of the group.

“Scotty?” I said, fear laced in my voice.

“We can still see them!” Scott yelled, looking around.

A growl and a neigh later, I looked at what caused all of that. Liam, that hot-headed little puppy, apparently knocked one of the Ghost Riders down off his horse, both of them going to the ground.

“Liam!” I yelled.

The Ghost Riders that were around us were tightening their circle a little, making sure that we weren’t going anywhere as Liam tried to fight the Ghost Rider. Said Rider tossed Liam off of him, standing and bringing out his gun.

Scott’s grip on me got tighter as he shifted halfway and growled at the Riders, my face going into his chest instinctively, his arm coming around my shoulders to keep me in place.

Another shot told me that Steinbach was next. How I knew which boy was shot, I have no clue. Maybe my Banshee senses were tingling... hard.

Liam growled and stood back up, coming back over to us. Scott never let me go. Not once. I was lucky to have a best friend like him.

“We can’t stop them,” Liam said.

“Protect Gwen,” Scott said, before taking a deep breath and growling at the Riders again.

“You owe me, Scott McCall!”

“Yeah, I know. You need to leave. Go to the hospital. Stay with my mom.”

“I’m not leaving you, Scotty!”

Gwen stepped in front of us, yelling, “Come on!” at the Riders in front of us, one of which still had his gun out.

The Rider pointed his gun at Gwen, getting ready to shoot. Scott’s yell of NO didn’t mean shit as the Rider shot Gwen, emitting her into a green smoke just like the other two.

“No!” Scott yelled, looking around us, tossing me around.

“Scotty, they’re gone!” I yelled, stopping his movements for a second. At that, the Ghost Riders disappeared and the rain stopped.

Scott’s hands moved from my arms to my shoulders, pulling me back to look me in the eyes. “Go to the hospital. Find my mom and stay with her. You’re marked now.”

“Newsflash, we’re all marked,” I sassed. “But, I’ll go to the hospital. I need to ask her a couple questions anyways.”

He nodded, bringing me into a wet hug from the rain we’d just stood in. “Let me know when you get there.”

“Will do.”

~~~

Getting to the hospital soaked from the rain wasn’t ideal, but I had to deal with the cards I was given. Walking into the hospital, I noticed that Melissa was sitting at the nurses station, phone in her hand.

“Scott just texted me to let me know that I need to keep an eye on you,” she said, not even looking up from her phone.

I sighed and shook my head. “It’s creepy when you do that.”

She chuckled. “I watched you walk through the first set of doors.”

“Ah.” I sighed, “Listen, I need a favor.”

“What’s that?”

I sighed again, nervous of her answer. “I need to see Claudia’s medical records.”

“You want what?” she shrieked.

I rubbed at my ear. “Ahhh. Little quieter, please.”

“You-- you want what?” she asked again, quieter this time with her arms crossed.

“Aunt Clauds’ medical records. Just for a minute. I know it’s a lot to ask.”

“It’s up there, Emma. It’s way up there.”

“Just trust me. She’s not the Claudia I remember from my childhood. I just need to see something and then I’ll be out of your hair, and I won’t ask for another favor like this again.”

She looked at me like really, yes you will.

“Okay, you’re right, I will again, but I’ll be able to prove something to myself… and maybe even to Scott.”

She sighed. “Emma, letting you look at private medical records is completely and utterly against hospital regulations.”

I hung my head in defeat, not liking her answer.

“So, we better make this fast,” she said.

I looked up and saw the small smile on her face.

~~~

Apparently while down in the bunker, Argent ended up getting hurt, so they had to bring him to the hospital.

I met up with Scott as they did whatever they needed to with Argent. When the both of us saw Melissa wheeling Argent’s bed down the hallway, we poked our heads in the doorway.

“Is he okay?” Scott asked. Him and I walked over to Argent’s bedside.

Melissa sighed after looking around. “He’s got blunt force trauma to his temporal bone, three broken ribs, and multiple surface lacerations which seem to be from whip marks?” She looked at Scott, the look she gave him telling him she was very concerned. “What he needs is a lot of rest.”

“What happened?” Lydia asked.

Malia, Scott and I walked over to Lydia, the four of us standing in a circle.

“The Ghost Riders took everyone,” Malia said. “We barely slowed them down.”

“Tell us you found something,” Scott said, looking at me.

I sighed and closed my eyes for a second before going into my explanation. “I found out that Claudia never had children. So--” I stopped my words, tears lining my eyes. “Stiles can’t be her son.”

“What about a relic?” Malia asked.

I shook my head hesitantly, not wanting to give them this answer.

“There never was a Stiles, was there?”

I started to get a little irritated at the fact that they were willing to just give up on finding Stiles.

“It doesn’t even sound like a real name,” Scott said.

“We have to keep looking!” I said, voice raised. “Check school records. Scotty, call your dad--”

“We’re fighting the wrong battle,” Malia said.

“What the hell is the matter with y’all? We’re trying to bring Stiles back!”

“The Ghost Riders came back, Emma. We still have no way of stopping them. And whatever they are, they’re real. We can’t keep chasing someone who isn’t.”

I looked at Scott, a tear sliding down my cheek at his look. 

“He didn’t leave anything behind,” he said.

I looked over at Lydia, her face saying that she agreed with what they were saying. 

I sniffled, and nodded, knotting my lips. “You’re right. He didn’t leave anything behind… except for us. Now, I don’t know about you three, but I sure as hell am not going to stop looking for him until he is safe and back in my arms.” I grabbed my ring, holding it out as best as I could. “I know he gave this to me. I know for a fact that I loved him. So, I’m gonna keep looking. You’re more than welcome to join me.”

I turned around and started walking back through the hospital to get to my Jeep and headed home. I fell asleep wondering what Stiles looked like, who he was, what he was like, how much he must’ve loved me enough to give me this ring.

Let’s just say that that night was one of the best nights of sleep I’ve gotten since the whole Ghost Rider adventure started.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N 2: hi, friends! let me know what you thought! again, please do not hesitate to reblog and give some feedback, whether it be in the reblogs, comments, or my inbox.

Additional Note: i probably won’t do anymore timezone reblogs from here on out since the feedback on this series has stopped, and reblogging isn’t doing shit.

~~~

Forever / Everything Taglist: @stiles-o-dylan24​ @stixnstripesworld​ @fandom-princess-forevermore​ @quanticobae​ @mischiefandi​ @kellyashcroft​ @lauren-novak​

YABMH Taglist: @stiles-o-dylan24​ @stixnstripesworld​ @sammypotato67​ @originalamethysthealer @alittlebitofeverythinggg​ @katemusic @hcomet28​ @good-vibes-and-glitter​ @louie-bug​ @luckylovestruck @quxxnxfhxll @lettersofwrittencollective​ @shawty-fenty​ @onelesslonelygirlbieber6​ @kenziemaehl @gabxbyr​​ @hogwartsstar​ @theycallmegreentea​

If you want to be added to the YABMH Taglist, just click here. If you’re tagged and didn’t want to be, please let me know. Tumblr’s trying to tag people for me, lol.

Italics wouldn’t let me tag 🥺

~~~

*Please don’t post my writing anywhere else without my consent. The author of this work will always and forever be @harringtonstilinski.

All characters, story lines, and plot aside from Emma and her storyline & plot, are all of the work of Jeff Davis. Our home slice Emma was made up all by me. As well we her parents and their storyline throughout the series.

*These works contain material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited.

No part of these works may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher.

Posted on July 2, 2022 *Happy 8th Birthday to my niece!*

[delusion-of-negation]

I guess someone else mentioned his son then, your page has a very low contrast so it's a bit hard to see on desktop who said what. But I didn't say YOU attributed the bad movies to him, I meant that most consider the sons movies to be the worst, and tried explaining the reason. Ie: Earthsea isn't bad just because bad adaption, but bc this was the dude's first movie, and he had no help, and didn't even wanna make it. Same with his other movies. I don't watch D-Noble, personal reasons.

THEY DIDN'T, nobody attributed bad movies to his son. I know because I read all of the comments on my posts. the only times anything about his son came up were in the two previous lines. literally what you said: "from the reblog chain I saw it mentioned that the "Bad" Ghibli movies was said to be made by the son," so what I said was the only two times it mentioned his son. when in response to someone blaming the dad I tried to stop gossip and didn't engage, and when I said directors have styles so it has an overall different feel. that's it. and the phraseology definitely has implications I said it, in the context of you sending me an ask to criticise and correct me in the first place, ie "Actually, the Ghibli movie "Earwig and the Witch" was done by a son of Miyazaki's?" comes across like you're correcting shit nobody said about that movie nobody was talking about. and you won't even read what context, or at least partial context, I linked to because you don't particularly like my blog theme and the preview in the link has a picture of a youtuber you don't watch. how can I show you proof you're wrong if you refuse to even look at it? my dude, like, wtf? additionally, your first ask didn't say "I think this is why earthsea sucks, not anything you mentioned about ursula being screwed completely by him", it said "actually this is why earwig is bad" so genuinely fuck off. even if you had started this reasonably, your behaviour since has been unreasonable, and the family issues in studio ghibli aren't something I'm comfortable gossiping about.

you clearly didn't read anything, because the Dominic videos in earlier threads were about a different adaptation of earthsea, in service of giving context about the original books and how they aren't strangers to poor adaptation - the videos about the ghibli adaptation are from different youtubers. I don't care who you're personally uncomfy with, although it's worth noting that almost everyone who dislikes Dom is a te/rf, who dislikes him for taking down a video that was made before an enby came out and thus accidentally misgendered them, and for his stance against jkr. it usually would be something I'd give you the benefit of the doubt about, but you've been hounding me all night about drama I just repeatedly keep telling you I don't want to talk about, so you are completely out of sympathy. I initially tried to be lighthearted in explaining that I don't want to talk about this, then I tried clearly expressing that you were annoying me, especially by telling me I pointed fingers at his son when I never did, either because you'd straight up lied or simply not read shit. I have said several times, clearly, explicitly, I DO NOT WANT TO TALK ABOUT GOSSIP RE PEOPLE'S FAMILY LIVES. IT IS NOT OF INTEREST TO ME. this genuinely can't get any clearer, dude. I have boundaries and you refuse to adhere to them. I will not respond to any more asks on studio ghibli. sorry to anybody else who wanted to talk about it.

prev asks

[juletheghoul]

Oblivius Chapter 10

We've come to the end my friends.

This is the last chapter for Francis & Spills and hopefully you'll enjoy it. I have had such a great time writing this story and have received so many lovely messages & asks about my two dumb idiot babies.

Although this is the end of the main story - you can always send in an ask about them because I will literally jump back in at the drop of a hat. (and who knows, might randomly drop a chapter / dabble if I get into my feelings)

Thanks for sticking with me!

Likes & reblogs are appreciated

Frankie Morales x F!Reader

Pairing: Frankie x F!Reader

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: Fluff & general cuteness, Smut 18+ - dirty talk, p in v sex (NO MINORS + WRAP IT UP) language *time jump at the end - which has a little surprise* (let me know if I missed anything)

Masterlist Series Masterlist Prev Part Playlist

--------

Age: 29

He knew he shouldn’t have been nervous, but he couldn’t help it.

He was working on his feelings for her, on coming to terms with his hurt and his anger. Once the initial burn of it cooled he could admit to himself that they’d both been utterly stupid. Both were to blame for how things shook out.

He knew this was the right course of action. He knew from the way he felt right at this moment, getting ready to pick Spills up for their first official date. He’d never once in the whole time he’d been with Claudia felt like this.

He had decided to keep it simple. Dinner and a movie. Can’t fuck that up and after everything that had transpired, he needed simple. It had been a couple of weeks since their conversation and things were a little awkward at first - trying to navigate this new dynamic but their conversations had gotten more comfortable. Both of them agreed to make the first date official.

He couldn’t help but smile as he made his way over to her place, even though his stomach was in knots. Even though a small part of him was terrified to fuck this up. Nothing could be sadder for him than for this not to work and have them drift apart but when he saw her rushing over to his truck all the doubts and worries melted away.

Of course this’ll work. I love you.

“Ready?” He asked and the smile was bright on her face when she climbed in and buckled her seat belt.

“Of course. Where are you taking me?” She ran her fingers through his hair and he could have purred, the touch felt so right.

“To our place.” He pulled out and made his way over to Marcellos.

--

The food was just as good as you remembered. The two of you found your rhythm as you ordered your meals and when they came he wasted no time in tasting your food and offering his plate to you. You sighed at how your heart swelled. This was so easy - so natural and you kicked yourself mentally over and over for not opening your mouth earlier.

You’d been afraid that things would be awkward after your talk and at first it was. The conversations and texts were weird, impersonal and almost forced but after a little while it was easy to fall back into your friendship.

It was so easy because you were friends. You already had the solid foundations for this to work and you were going to put everything you had into it.

You laughed, and you ate, and you enjoyed each other's company - forgetting the time and when he ordered the tiramisu and two forks you smiled big.

“I already bought the movie tickets, so we should leave soon or we’ll miss the previews.” You told him as the waiter cleared the table.

“You did?” He was surprised. “What movie are we watching then?” He asked as he paid for dinner.

“I picked a horror movie, looked terrifying.” you pulled out the tickets and he laughed. Kissing your hand as he walked you out of the restaurant.

--

He paid for dinner, so you bought the movie and popcorn. You made it with enough time to get good seats in the middle of the theatre, for the best vantage point according to him. In reality you didn’t actually care where you sat.

He lifted the divider as soon as the two of you sat, making sure you could tuck yourself into his side at the scary bits and you wasted no time getting comfortable. His arm was around you reassuringly as the trailers started, the two of you whispering a bit too loudly, deciding what was worth your time and what wasn’t.

You tucked your face into his neck at the jump scares, asking in whispers if it was okay to look. You could feel the rumble of his chest when he laughed, not unkindly. Felt him kissing your forehead softly when it was okay to look.

Despite having already kissed before, despite having had sex once before - this felt so intimate. You looked up at him to find him already smiling at you, your heart racing at the closeness. At the tenderness on his face.

You kissed him. Petal soft and chaste at first but he deepened it, his big warm hand coming up to rest softly on your cheek. His tongue tasted like popcorn and sugar and you couldn’t help but smile into it at first. The movie forgotten, the fear morphing into warmth and desire for him. As far as you were concerned - this was your first real kiss, and it took your breath away.

The rest of the movie was spent with your head on his shoulder. His hand steadily rubbing your arm and his nose buried in your hair and you couldn’t remember ever having a better first date.

---

You left the theatre quietly, the walk back to the truck was a leisurely stroll. Both of you smiling to yourselves as you held hands, your other hand holding onto his arm - you couldn’t get close enough.

He walked you to the passenger side, pressing you up against it to kiss you again quickly. You could see that he was taking every opportunity to press his lips to yours and you let him. Both of you quiet, breathless and giddy. You didn’t need words. Not for this.

After placing a couple more onto your neck and cheeks he remembered himself, and opened the door for you, running around the truck to get in. His hand found its way into yours on your lap as he drove you home.

He walked you to your door and asking him to come in was on the tip of your tongue but he forestalled. Speaking before you could ask.

“I’m coming in to check every corner so you aren’t scared.” He followed you in, closing the door behind him as he spoke. “But I’m not staying over, as much as I want to. I want to take this slow.” He was looking at you and you could have cried, not from disappointment, but from regret. Regret at having wasted so much time - regret that it took so goddamn long for you to get the courage to tell him how you felt and he must have seen the emotion on your face because he was holding onto your face in a flash. Cradling your jaw softly.

“What’s wrong Spills? Did I go too fast?” His brow was furrowed and despite your happiness the regrets swallowed you whole, you couldn’t stop the first few tears from falling.

“No no! I’m sorry. This was perfect and I just- I feel bad that we waited so long and I wasted so much time and we should have done this so fucking long ago.” You couldn’t stop the sob from clawing it’s way up your throat as he held you and he sighed loudly. Pulling you into the crook of his neck within the soft glow of your home.

“No - stop honey. Stop crying please - this isn’t your fault. I shouldn’t have blamed you for everything. We’ve both been absolute idiots and maybe if we’d talked about this like grown-ups years ago all this bullshit could have been avoided, please stop crying.” He kissed your forehead as you clung to him. The smell of his clothes, the feel of him against your skin - his voice in your ear. It was all home and the longer he held you the better you felt.

“Listen, I was angry and hurt but the more I think about it the more I realize that we’re both to blame but it’s okay because we’re starting again right?” He pulled away to tilt your face up to look at him.

“We’re exactly where we’re supposed to be and this is going to work. It’s going to work because as far as I’m concerned you’re it. You’re the only person for me and I want to be with you for the rest of my life. Do you understand? Forget everything and focus on this.” He was looking at you so intensely it was hard not to cry all over again. “Tell me you understand honey.” He kissed your cheeks, one after the other.

“Yes, I understand. I feel the same way about you Francis.” You smiled a watery smile up at him and he returned it.

“Good, now I’m going to check before I leave- kiss you goodnight and then we’re going to go out again.” And he did.

—

“Good morning!” You climbed into the truck after putting your beach bag and your cooler in the back. His face smiling at you brightly as he leaned over to you, lips pursed. You kissed him and he handed you your hazelnut coffee.

“Good morning honey.” His good mood was shining through as he pulled away from your home and drove towards the beach, just the two of you. “Did you bring me breakfast?” He kept looking over to see if you had anything for him, which of course you did.

“Of course - open up.” You put the buttery bagel half in his mouth and he ate it with gusto.

---

The day was gorgeous, absolutely perfect for the beach and he set about getting the blankets and the umbrella ready for the two of you. You watched him, savouring the sight of his deft hands making quick work of everything.

“You’re staring at me Spills.” He said it with a smile on his lips and you didn’t look away.

“Yes I am.” You couldn’t help but match his tone - he turned to you then and leaned in to kiss you. He kissed you at every turn and you cherished it, you loved the way he showed his affection for you. He was a physical creature and he luxuriated in being close to you.

“Good.” He smiled as he handed you the sunscreen and once you'd finished, he made himself comfortable against you. He chose to sit with his back pressed up against your chest, between your legs - despite having laid out his own towel.

--

You were floating.

The water was enveloping you, lapping softly at your skin as you let it carry you. The sun was shining and you had your eyes closed to shield you from it. You had gone into the water first while Frances read but now he was there too, always an arms length away but it wasn’t close enough and you both fell back into your usual rhythm of splashing and teasing until you were wrapped around each other.

You couldn’t help but wrap your arms around his neck, pressing yourself up against him. Even in the cool water, his skin was warm and you felt as he wrapped your legs around his middle. His hands started at your waist, but they quickly moved down and held onto your ass. You laughed.

“What are you doing Francis?” You asked it with a smile, these days it felt like everything you did was with a smile.

“I’m holding onto you Spills.” He was nuzzling his nose into your neck, placing little kisses around your collar bones and up the column of your neck to your ear. You hadn’t had sex since the night before his wedding, the two of you agreeing to take it slow but his hunger for you was becoming more and more evident as the weeks rolled by. His hands roaming a little more each time you were together.

“Onto my ass?” You looked into his face, cherishing it.

“That’s right.” He pressed his face into the crook of your neck, wanting to be closer, always closer. “Do you not want me to?” He smiled lazily - biting at your ear playfully.

“I never said that.” You breathed out the words, he was affecting you and you had to remember that you were in public. You fell into a comfortable silence. The two of you happy to float in the water as well as your happiness alike.

“Francis?” You were staring out into the water as you spoke, your head resting over his shoulder.

“Hmm?” He was resting his head on yours, eyes on the shore.

“Promise me we’ll live near the ocean one day.” You rubbed his back, tracing lines into his skin with pruny fingers.

“I promise, one day we’ll have a little house by the ocean. You’ll be able to hear it when the windows are open.”

The two of you floated out there for a long time, peaceful and quiet and in love.

—-

Your hand found its way into his curls on the way home, the salt water always defined them and it was too inviting to ignore. He never minded.

His hand found its way onto your lap and the two of you were connected the whole way.

“Come in. Park the rustbucket and stay over.” You didn’t want him to leave, not yet. You were ready for the next step in your relationship.

“Are you sure?” He asked even though he was parking the truck.

“Yes, we can order in.” You smiled a smile that had nothing to do with food.

“You’re gonna kill me Spills.” He was hurriedly unbuckling his seat belt, he wanted this just as much as you did and you couldn’t get inside fast enough. When you were finally inside he almost tackled you. Crashing into you with a bruising force, mouth insistent and unforgiving in its need for you.

“I want it in my bed.” You were pulling his shirt off as you pushed him towards your room and he growled.

“What do you want, baby? Tell me.” He was pulling off your shirt, undoing the top piece of your bathing suit as you finally got him into your room.

“I want you to fuck me. Make me cum like you did before, make me feel good.” You pushed him onto the bed and straddled him. He wasted no time and within a few seconds your nipple was in his mouth. Your grip on his curls was tight as you held him close to your chest. His tongue a slow swirl around the pebbled peak of your breast. First one, then the other. He was ruthless in his teasing, sucking roughly and then biting softly.

“You want my cock baby?” He was kissing your chest as he held onto your ass, your clothed core pressed up against the stiffening pillar of his sex. The arousal was a burning coal in the pit of your stomach and every time he pulled you closer it burned hotter. Your cunt ached for him, drooling out your passion into your underwear, the threads of you unspooling for him at your entrance.

“Yes, give it to me - please.” You bit at his neck, tasting the salt of the ocean on his skin and he moaned. You used the momentary distraction to pull off him and finish undressing. You helped him pull off his swim trunks and you pulled him into your shower, both of you were still covered in sand and you wanted to wash the day off him.

His body curled around you as you turned the shower on. His cock was hard and pressed up against the cleft in your ass. His hands were around your waist, holding onto your belly; your breasts. Anything and everything he could get his hands on and you both laughed as you got into the shower. You dragged him under the hot spray, helping him wash the salt and sand from his skin and his hair and he did the same for you.

Once you were clean he pressed you up against the wall, the cool tile against your nipples made you hiss and he pulled your waist toward him, one hand on your back to tilt your pelvis enough for him to slide in.

“Can I fuck you like this baby?” He leaned forward to press a kiss to your neck. You wiggled your hips against him in response.

“Yes Francis, give it to me just like this - please.” He groaned as he rubbed his cock through your folds, even under the spray he could feel how wet you were and he slid in to the hilt. His pelvis flush with the plump skin of your ass. “Fuck, I feel so full - you’re so big.” You smiled at the groan he let out at your words.

“You’re so tight, feels so fucking good.” He snapped his hips, fucking into you hard and fast. Both of you so keyed up that this wouldn’t last and you knew it. “That’s it baby, take it. Just - like- that.” He held onto your shoulder for leverage and you reached down with one hand to rub at your clit.

“Yes, make yourself cum, soak my cock.” He pulled you up holding onto your breast as he split you open on his dick.

“I’m gonna cum…” Your orgasm crashed into you, making you clench around him while he sped up, chasing his own high and you felt it when he groaned into your ear. Felt him emptying himself into you.

—-

You were both naked, laying in your bed in the fading light of the sun. His head was resting on your chest as you played with his hair.

“I'm starving, have you seen my phone? We should order a pizza.” He got up and looked around and for a moment you couldn’t believe that your Francis was walking around your place naked. Even though he’d fucked you in the shower, even though he’d fucked you in your bed; made you cum with his fingers and his mouth and his cock. Your pleasure seemingly more important than his.

“I think you dropped it onto the counter when we came in.”

He came back with it in his hand and ordered your usual order before dropping it onto your nightstand.

“We have forty minutes until it gets here.” He smiled darkly as he crawled up between your legs and despite everything you’d done, you flushed, wrapping your arms and legs around him lazily.

“Better make them count.” You kissed him, and he did.

When the pizza finally came you needed another shower, which you took together. He stayed the night, and never went home again.

——

Age: 30

“Francis, wake up honey, happy birthday!” You were kissing his face, pulling him softly out of sleep. He groaned and smiled as he buried his face into your hair. His hand travelled down to grab at your ass. Even half asleep he pawed at you, making you laugh.

“Mmmph, sleep.” He mumbled onto your skin. Soft and pliant on the bed you shared.

“Francis, come on - get up so we can celebrate.” You pulled him away slightly so you could pepper his face with kisses, something he loved. “Come on baby, get up, I have a few surprises for you.” You ran your fingers through his hair. It was getting longer and you loved it like this.

“Are you naked?” He didn’t open his eyes but you felt his wits sharpening.

“No, that's later, I have other surprises for you, three of them. Hmm?” You waited a few minutes and he opened his eyes.

“Alright alright, I’m up. What’s the plan?” He yawned and stretched.

“The plan is they’re coming to get you in about half an hour so get dressed.” You got up out of bed pulling him up with you.

“Who?” He was lost.

“Your surprises.” He frowned and then it dawned on him.

“Pope? Benny and Will?” His eyebrows shot up in shock.

“Yes! They’re on their way so come on, up up let’s get you ready, they’re taking you out and then we’re going to have a big dinner.” He was moving on his own now and you could see how happy he was.

“Did you set this up?” He was brushing his teeth and you nodded.

“Yes I spoke to Pope a few weeks ago, thought it would make you happy to have them here for your birthday. They’re going to take you out for the morning and then we can meet up at your parents place for a big dinner.” You smiled at him.

“You’re not coming?” He frowned despite his joy at seeing his closest friends in a few minutes.

“No, you have your time with them and I’ll see you in a few hours.” He pulled you close.

“I love you Spills.” He kissed you, deep and insistent, all of his feelings for you behind it and you had to pull away as his phone went off.

“I love you too Francis, now get your ass in gear. See you later, have fun!” You pushed him out, patting him on the butt to get him moving.

———

Age: 33

“I am completely in love with it Francis, look at the windows!” You were walking through the little house like a kid in a candy store. Trying to take it all in.

“It’s really nice, floors are good.” He was looking at the wood, taking stock of the layout and the sturdiness of the staircase leading upstairs.

“Do you think we could afford it?” You were pulling him towards the kitchen, to the big window over the sink where you could just see the water. The yard was a little on the smaller side but it was big enough to put a little patio set and a grill, big enough for the three of you.

“Do you want it?” He stood behind you, his arms around your waist as you both stared out through the window.

“Yes, I think we’ll be really happy here. Do we have enough?” You turned to press a kiss to the stubble on his cheek.

“Yes, we have enough saved and with you going back to work we’ll be fine.” You felt the little hands then, grabbing at both of you and he bent down to pick up your daughter. She was tired and rested her head on his shoulder. “I think she likes it.” He ran his fingers through her soft curls as he kissed her forehead. You couldn't help but rub her little back as she melted into his shoulder.

“Open the window.” He gestured towards the latch and when you did you heard the soft sounds of the ocean drifting in. He was smiling at you, holding onto the little life you’d both created.

“Welcome home Spills."

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

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[youarejesting]

Sly like a... ? part 11

[Full Masterlist] Beta: n/a (at the moment) Rating: All (Marked Chapters 18+) Pairing: Hybrid!BTS x FailedHybrid!Reader Genre: Hybrid au, fluff, action, adventure, angst, drama, slice of life. Some marked chapters will contain mature/smut scenes, BUT they will not have plot in those scenes and are 100% skippable without losing your place in the story.

Summary: Human’s strive to be better, faster and stronger looking to animal DNA. Thus Hybrids are born. As the rise for designer and Pedigree Hybrids increase, so do the failed attempts. There is one species scientists are unsuccessful in creating, but, folklore says they have been here all along, hiding and blending in with the humans for many millennia. How clever they are.

[First] [Prev] [Next]

‘No girls or Jungkook’s allowed! ’

The sign on the door filled you with so much anger. You had to physically remember to breathe, it wouldn’t do to start yelling at the hybrids, they already felt inferior and vulnerable compared to humans. You never wanted them to feel weak, which is why you were mad. You didn’t care if they wanted to exclude you, but you would give the two young men a strong lecture for even thinking about excluding Jungkook.

“Jimin and Taehyung I would like to talk with you,” you ripped the sign down and tore it up. It would be best to dispose of the evidence before the young man saw it. Seeing his hyungs ignoring him would break him, “If you are upset talk to me and I will try to fix the situation.”

There was no response so you sighed walking away pushing the small lump in your throat down, you heard them whispering and thought maybe they needed time. It was after lunch that you began wondering if they planned to lock themselves up all day. Jungkook sat on the soft rug looking at the video games and he smiled setting up the controllers as he looked between two games.

“Which one do you think is better?” Jungkook asked Seokjin who took one of the controllers and smiled, he read both and grinned and you stepped over sitting on the floor picking up a controller.

“I can play right, I think Jimin and Taehyung are talking about some things,” You smiled, nuzzling his hair for a second and leaning back on Seokjin’s legs. “So what are we playing, I have never played before?”

Namjoon ended up joining and Yoongi took a seat on your spare side on the rug and leaned on one of Seokjin’s legs laughing at your expense. “You missed, he was right there and you missed, he shot you,”

“Look, I am a Minecraft kind of videogamer, you know the sims?” You puffed your cheeks flailing as you tried to shoot Namjoon who was doing a lot of shouting and not a lot of aiming either.

Everyone was in stitches. You almost forgot about the other two boys who were feuding with you. It was late and you had played a series of driving and shooting games and a game of Minecraft; where you all made a village and lived side by side and visited each other's houses with food and tools.

“I am hungry,” Jungkook pouted, pulling your sleeve and glancing at the dark kitchen. You looked at the time, and your mouth dropped open. “When is dinner?”

“Let’s order in, I can’t be bothered cooking,” You ordered a bunch of food, making sure to get Jimin and Taehyung’s favorite dishes so that you could lure them out. They would no doubt be hungry.

The food was delivered and as you removed the lids you named the dishes loudly hoping the two locked away in their room would emerge and eat something.

It’s super effective!

You smile as everyone digs in. The two boys were obviously mad and jealous that you had slept in Jungkook’s room and you wondered how you would possibly be able to fix this.

“I will take Wednesdays,” Yoongi smiled “I like Wednesdays”

“What is he talking about?” Hoseok asked he was just as confused by the white tiger's outburst looking towards Namjoon who with a mouth full of noodles shrugged.

“Sunday’s you can sleep in Jungkook’s room, and mine on Wednesdays,”

“Oh I will take Monday’s” Hoseok smiled, brightly

“Monday is tonight” Jimin accused looking panicked, “fine, I will take Tuesday then”

“Can you sleep in my rooms on Wednesday?” Taehyung said,

“Wednesday is already taken,” Yoongi glared, placing some meat on Taehyung’s plate in an attempt to console him, “Take Thursday”

“Yes Thursday”

“I will take Saturday,” Jin grinned, “Which means Namjoon is Friday? Is that alright?”

You blinked watching this all unfold, they had just decided on their own sleep schedule for you. It was nice to see them working together but you didn’t know how to feel about moving rooms every night. But at this point, anything seemed more comfortable than the couch. “Maybe once and when I have stayed once in everyone's rooms, I will go back on the couch.”

“What if two people share a room and have bunk beds or something, then that leaves a free room for you?” Jimin said, grabbing some tteokbokki, “I can share with Hoseok or Taehyung or Jungkook, I can give you my room. It can be your own little space.”

“Oh, my room! My room!” Hoseok said, “I miss the sound of other people in the night, we can get bunk beds.”

Hoseok and Jimin grinned at one another, the two already talking about how they would design and decorate their room. Heading into the bathroom you cleaned up the clothes off the floor and dumped them in the hamper. It made you laugh how comfortable they were all getting enough to drop their clothes on the floor right beside the hamper.

Taking a rather warm shower you scrubbed your skin wondering if you would smell different again in the morning. It was a strange thought, once scrubbed and buffed clean you wrapped yourself in your towel and stood on the small mat in front of the basin. Examining your appearance, as you slowly moisturize your skin.

Whilst smoothing the cool night cream across your brow you thought you saw an orange tail in the mirror turning you thought Seokjin had burst into the bathroom to pee but when you turned nothing and nobody was there.

It left you feeling a little unsettled, it was your head playing tricks on you. Getting dressed you all but ran out into the hall smacking into Seokjin who was coming out of his room. You grasped his large shoulders to prevent yourself from falling back. He gripped your waist in response.

“Woah, what’s wrong, why are you scared?” He asked, his tail fluffed and his ears twitching looking for a threat. A few heads popped out of their rooms, “You reek of fear, what happened?”

“I spooked myself, one of the towels moved in the bathroom and I thought it was something else and I got scared, that’s all” Your voice died off with your rambling, and the blush settled upon your cheeks.

Hoseok walked over and took your hands, “don’t worry, you are staying in my room tonight so I will protect you!” His chipper tone did wonders to ease your distress, pulling you along to his room where he tucked the two of you into the bed.

“Thank you, I miss having people to talk to and just be there,” He smiled, “I am excited to get to stay with Jimin, he is such a nice guy.”

“He is a sweetheart when we were little we used to play together and he always wanted to play pirates and superheroes but on my 4th birthday no one from our school showed up to my princess party. So Jimin dressed up as a princess as did my carer Felix and his carer Astrid and we all shared snacks and cake”

“YOU SAID YOU WOULDN'T TELL ANYONE!” Jimin’s voice screeched from the hallway seconds before rapid footsteps. His figure appeared in the doorway for a split second, his sock-clad feet slipping out from underneath him sending him sliding further down the hallway.

“I have pictures too,” You giggled

“Send them to me.” Yoongi’s tired drawl came from a few rooms up and you grinned airdropping them around the house. Jimin tried to wrestle the phone from your hands and you grinned, pulling him onto the bed.

“Time for bed Jimin, lay down or get out.” he indeed snuggled up on your other side, Hoseok and Jimin's arms wrapped around you and you were indeed feeling quite safe from your previous scare.

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[chaeiimimi]

02 𝖍𝖊𝖑𝖑𝖔 𝖇𝖆𝖇𝖞

Summary: you weren’t really sure how it happened, but an average student who wore glasses and spent all her extra time on bookstores and library managed to date your school’s volleyball club setter. On your 3rd year of law school, your ten years anniversary to be exact, he went home from Argentina and it was a week before he was going back, he broke up with you with the reason of he can’t handle long-distance relationship anymore despite being at it for two years. You didn’t cry, you stood there as he was sobbing in front of you, you held his face in your palms and offered him a gentle smile, gentle enough to let him know you’ll support him and will always be watching him, together with the child in your stomach right now, but he doesn’t need to know that.

chapters: prev//next

after feeding Hayato, you spent the whole morning preparing for your afternoon picnic with the boys, cooking up food, cleaning the house and preparing the picnic basket, it was your day off

by afternoon, Akira called you during their stopover saying she wants you to pick her up tomorrow morning which you agreed to do

it was a well-spent afternoon, you walked to the park, pushing twin stroller. 

you set up the picnic blanket and the food as you laid the twins on the blanket and almost immediately they crawled around the cloth giggling at each other while you indulge in a new book, a sandwich and an iced coffee

the neighborhood teenagers played with your sons (with your permission ofc) cooing at how adorable they were

you spent a good four hours in the park, it was already getting dark when you decided to go home, you kept your stuff and journeyed back home , dropping by the grocery store in front of your place to stock up on your food and your babies’ food 

the store was owned by two lovely old couple who were always happy with having you come by, they would give you coupons for baby food and offer to take care of the boys as you shop, it wasn’t only the elderly couple who loved the boys, your landlady who got divorced the same year you gave birth to your kids also loved them and brought fruits for you during her visits, the couple and their three-year-old son next door loved inviting you every so often, the lovely flower shop owner down the streets gave you flowers on mother’s day when she saw you were pregnant even the Thai food restaurant owner and his daughter loved giving you discounts on takeout with the promise of bringing the twins with you the next time you come visit

you were truly blessed to have such an amazing and friendly neighborhood 

when you arrived home, you quickly put the groceries to their rightful places, gave the twins a bath and tuck them in and then finally eating dinner

you were now standing in front of the airport, waiting for your best friend to arrive, you left the twins in the care of your parents

“besstiieeee” the shrill voice of your bestfriend invaded your ears as she ran towards you and gave you a tight embrace which you reciprocated

damn you missed this woman so much

“oh my gosh I missed you, you crazy woman” you rolled your eyes at her but there was a happy smile on your face

“where’s your hotel? let’s take your stuff there” you suggested

“oh no don’t worry about that, my assistant already took care of that”

sometimes you forget that your best friend was now a world-renowned photographer 

you nodded silently 

“let’s go shopping for clothes to wear tomorrow” she squeals enthusiastically

“oh yea sure i’ll accompany you, I have clothes at home-”

“oh no girl, we are glamming you up” you looked at her with a deadpanned expression

“what? i haven’t seen you glammed up, since- i don’t know High School Prom? pleaaassseeee” and then she hits you with her puppy dog eyes 

you just sighed knowing you were in for a shopping spree that lasts for an eternity 

“Asahi-san” 

you tilted your head in confusion as you walked in a fashion store owned by  Karasuno’s ace?

“hello to you Akira” he said in a gentle voice 

the first time you talked to him you were actually shocked at how gentle his voice is, he always seemed so...intimidating?

“can you pick an outfit for my best friend? we’re attending a high school reunion” 

he looks at you and offered you a small smile 

“alright, this way ladies”

you were now standing in front of the venue, wearing a tight gray dress with a white long sleeve kind of see through material underneath and some black heels (this) while Akira stood beside you in her pretty red velvet dress

your heart was thumping really hard against your chest, it felt like it was about to break your ribcage, you wanted to back out right then and there 

“let’s go?” Akira asked patting your shoulders as you nodded nervously 

you entered the venue and saw a lot of familiar faces, you were not very friendly during high school and you were either known as “Oikawa’s girlfriend” or “Akira’s bestfriend” 

but you did greet the people who greeted you and exchanged smiles with some people often

you even met Kyotani, Yahaba, Kindaichi and Kunimi at the bar as they greeted you and Akira 

you gave them a “good evening” and a smile

unlike you, Akira was a sociable person, that’s why you were left in a table alone while she greets her old friends, you even had to assure her that you were fine

“Y/n” you turn your head to the direction of the familiar voice

“Iwa” you smiled at the former ace 

“it’s been so long, how are you?” he asks as he sits on the chair beside you

“I’ve been good” you smiled 

there was silence for a while when he suddenly spoke up

“how are they?” he asks 

“they grew up healthy and happy” you tensed up a little bit

“did you receive my six-month gift?” he asks and you chuckled

“yes Iwa, the stroller was very convenient, thank you” you gave him a smile 

“are you planning on telling him?” he asks

you gave him a sad smile

“being in the same industry, you know fully well that now’s not the right time” 

he nods at you silently, yes he knows, but he can’t help but feel sad for his bestfriend, he was missing out on a lot, he also can’t help but feel sorry for you, you were only in your mid twenties yet you are carrying such a heavy burden

raising a child isn’t easy, let alone raising twins, parenting and finance are no where near easy tasks

“iwa-chan you-”

that moment, your breathe hitched, the pounding of your heart muffled the music blasting, your throat started to tighten and there were tears ready to form at the back of your eyes

you wanted to run to him, hug him tightly, tell him everything you’ve been going through since he left, tell him about his sons and how they resembled him so much

but you were stuck in your seat 

“hey”

“hey” 

still kind of surprised that some people liked this story tysm <3, you can send me a dm or an ask if you guys want a tag on every chapter update, I’m also open in accepting requests

Reblogs and comments are appreciated😊💖

[bilbobagginsbrainrotblog]

Well I saw we had hit 150 followers last night, and decided I would wait till the next morning to think of what to do to celebrate, and then:

So, welcome! 😘💕🎊✨🎈🎉🎉🎊🎈🎉 I'm overwehelmed by all the cool blogs who have been following/interacting with my posts through tags and reblogs recently. I'm not sure what to do to properly celebrate, so here are just a few things I'm opening for the next few weeks:

Drawings! I'm slowly trying to work on improving my art, but I'm still a complete (and obvious) beginner. That said I need lots of practice, so for the next month (until the 30'th of July) I'll be taking any quick sketch requests you have! I can't guarantee they will be decent looking, but I'll do my best with anything LoTR/Tolkien (as long as it's not in the DNI section of my pinned post). You can look at the #myart tag to see some of my prev. work

Ficlets! Same rules as above. I'll write a short (probably 500 words or so) drabble about anything Tolkien related, including x reader's if that's your thing. Just none of the obvious stuff (incest, pedophilia, etc), and you can be as vague or specific as you like!

Gif Requests! You can request a scene, a character, a color pallet, a "make me choose", a favorite, etc! This one's wide open!

Edits/MV's: got an idea for a great song/character/ship pairing? Shoot it my way and I'll do my best! These take a bit longer and I can't do insanely fancy stuff (my new version of vegas doesn't have sapphire plugins 😤) but I can do simple things. Check out my youtube for other edits I've made.

General Questions: Obviously, my ask box is always open if anyone wants to chat, but I just want to reiterate that I really really do want to hear from you guys! Any headcannons/theories/thoughts/questions you have, please send them my way! I really do want to interact with/get to know you all! And again, thanks so much for 160 followers!

[horrorgay]

Sequel Rewrite | The Lost Hope

Chapter 3: Arrivals and Departures | prev chapter.

Written with @doc-aphra | You can read it on Ao3 as well.

Reblogs/comments are appreciated, but not necessary

The medbay was dimly lit, with only a few soft beeps coming from the medical equipment, but none of the occupants of the room paid it any mind anymore. To Finn, peaceful, content, and highly sedated, softly snoring, the noise was on another planet. Or, maybe, the beeps were in realspace, and his sleeping form may as well have been in hyperspace. They technically both existed, but there was little tether between their realities.

For BB-8, the beeps meant nothing, either. They were the vital signs of a relatively new friend, one that took some time to get over his lying to the droid, but the beeps were steady and the man was stable. With nothing else to do to pass the time, Beebee was examining the cables of the medical equipment, not really expecting to find anything wrong.

For Poe, sitting in the mostly dark room, the beeps were just a fabric of his surroundings, as he himself dealt with the fabric in his lap. He had just stopped for a moment with his sewing to look at his work, and, smiling, remarked that only a few more patches were needed to fix up Finn’s jacket. He looked at the cot, and Finn, and wished he could so easily repair the other man.

Hours earlier, Finn had woken up again, before the healing was complete -- after he’d bid Rey farewell they’d put him under one more time to finish the treatment on his spine. Poe had called for the medical officer, and together with persuasion and sedatives, they coaxed him back into the healing process. Poe yawned, and gave up on the jacket for now, deciding they both needed their rest. He folded the garment delicately, put it between his head and the back of the chair, and he was out within moments. BB-8 cooed softly, but Poe was too far gone to hear the droid remark about how he was taking better care of the jacket than he ever had before.

There was a window in Finn’s medbay room, and through it one could see nothing but green forest. By the time Leia arrived, the sun was setting and golden light filled the room softly. She was standing in the doorway, looking at the former stormtrooper and the ace pilot. The droid was in a rest cycle. She smiled briefly but her eyes held the tenderness her lips couldn’t hold. These two--they’ll be okay. She sighed. They have to be.

She made her way over to Poe, and put a hand on her shoulder, drumming lightly with her fingers. He woke with a babbled gasp, putting his hand up to block the unseen attack, swatting away her hand. “Poe, it’s me, Leia.” Leia hushed, a tad bit amused. Only a few days ago she’d gently awoken Kaydel the same way, as the younger lieutenant had fallen asleep to the droning tone of Ackbar in one of his conferences. Leia knew what it was like to sleep while fighting a war. Some days, there are just no gentle awakenings.

He blinked hard, trying to force away the dying light from behind the horizon. “General,” he tried to acknowledge without yawning. He stood up, putting the folded jacket by Finn on his bedside. “What,” another yawn escapes, “can I do for you?”

“Unfortunately, Poe, we still haven’t gotten the First Order surrender.”

“I’m sure it’s on it’s way,” he shot back. “Or do we have to blow up a second Starkiller first? I’m sensing a pattern here.”

She felt like she was on a vibroblade’s edge between laughing and stoicism. She chose the latter; it was time for business. “Jokes aside, we have a lot more fighting to do. In the morning, you two leave. Start making preparations.” She wished she could give him more time, but it wasn’t like he could do anything for Finn here. Better to get him out there, doing something to help the galaxy, and to get his mind off the things he couldn’t fix himself.

“May the Force be with me” he asked, grinning, as he walked past her out of the room, a freshly-charged BB-8 in tow. He froze, and almost sheepishly turned back around to ask. “Finn’s out tomorrow morning. Could he come with me?”

She looked at the slumbering man, and then to Poe, who was giving her his most severe loth-cat eyes, and sighed. “Yes, that’s alright. But be gentle with him. I’m not about to let you drag this poor, brave man around hand in hand, through ice and snow. Bring him back in one piece, please.”

“Thanks. I’m sure you’d find things for him to do here, but...”

“You want him to come along.”

“I do.”

Leia smiled. Please let these peaceful moments last.  

▹▴◃

There was a faraway planet, in one of the most obscure places in the galaxy, called Ach-to, where the now-complete map to Luke led. It lurked near the edges, far away from any core civilization,  too far even for Outer Rim communities. Her meeting Finn felt like eons ago, but it had only been a week or two since she’d left her home world. Takodana, Starkiller, D’Qar...whole planets that she’d never even thought about seeing. Her family had left her behind on Jakku, and she’d waited so long for them, would have waited so much longer if Finn hadn’t collided into her world.

And now Ach-To… Takodana’s surface was scattered with lakes and rivers, but this world was almost entirely water. Amongst the roiling, churned seas of the planet was an island, whereon Luke was meant to be. On this island, Rey brought the ship down, with the help of her co-pilot, onto a deep alcove at its base. She had offered twice on the trip to let the wookiee actually pilot--he was good at it, and with Han… he deserved a chance to finally prove it. Chewie had bristled at it, insisting that he was too old to start being a leader now.

Bidding Chewie farewell and getting wished luck in return, she stepped off the Falcon . The sea misted her face, and there was an earthy smell, like salt and life and dirt that washed over her. The ocean crashed against the rocks below her, sending foam up to occasionally splash against her legs. Ahead of her were steps winding up the peak of the landmass, and she wavered away from a sigh, instead clutching the shoulder strap of her bag, and started the climb.

Each step was a weight on her heart, as though each were a manifestation of  the troubles she faced, and had yet to. At the top of the steps would be the answer to the galaxy’s strife, the Lost Hope of the Resistance, the last Jedi, Luke Skywalker, the man who could end the war, bring balance to the Force, and with it a final, lasting peace in their lifetime. Maybe even Chewie’s lifetime. Wouldn’t that be something, she marveled.

Until the top, until Luke, she had maybe hundreds of steep steps to climb, and she nearly physically felt the obstacles they represented. Step. Her missing parents. Step. Finn’s injuries. Step. Seeing the beams of light across the sky as the New Republic was massacred. Step. Her first friends, her only friends, back on Jakku, deciding that leaving the planet with her only hope of crawling out of poverty was more important than helping Rey eat more than sand and rations. Step. Joining the Resistance and having its survival resting on her shoulders. Step. Not knowing if she could let even someone as evil as Kylo Ren die at her hands. Step.

She tried to heed Leia’s warning about emotions, but all she could think about was her the mountain of fears and anxiety as she neared the summit. “I am one with the Force,” she muttered. She was going to chant--she felt like that’s what she should do, right? Chant?--but she couldn’t help but feel relief lying over the last few steps. Here, she thought, I will finish the climb, and right there will be standing a Jedi, a teacher and a hero and he WILL stop the First Order.

As her eyes came over the top, her heart may as well have been left back on the Falcon. There was a rocky clearing at the top, with a hut, a doused campfire, and two trandoshan corpses. She rushed over, blaster ready in her trembling hand, to asses the bodies. The bodies were littered with blaster wounds, and one of them had some sort of boney spike stabbed into his forehead. She pulled it out with a sickening squish, wiping the blood off onto some of the lichen that coated the stone pathway and pocketing the spike, hoping that any sort of clue could come out of it.

“Luke Skywalker!” She yelled, poking her head into the hut. Inside was a rather miserable looking cot, and some overturned baskets, what looked like basic hunting and survival gear spilled out across the floor. Someone had been living here, though she doubted it was the trandoshans, who were outfitted in armor and core-world quality fabrics. No one answered. She called out again. Back outside she noticed something reddish-brown pooled near the fire. She could recognize human blood when she saw it.

“Luke!” The blood was still somewhat fresh, but there was no sign of him anywhere. She wanted to curl up, right there against the still-warm smolder that was once a campfire, and just… give up. “Poe’s right. The Force….” She hated this moment, hated herself for putting all of her faith in a treasure map, in a wizard, in a fairytale, in a--warm campfire.  

She spun around, making sure. Nothing in her line of sight.  “He’s not here.” she closed her eyes and breathed deeply, trying to think. The bodies weren’t warm, so it was more than a few hours since whatever happened here happened. “There,” she said quietly, looking at the horizon. She turned and looked out at the sea in all directions. “A storm is coming.” She stuck her finger in her mouth and held it up, looking again in the direction the wind was blowing. “And going. So, more than a few hours, but less than several. Less than a day, at least.” She crouched down for confirmation, and yes, the ground was wet, but the dead humanoids’ clothes weren’t.

“Luke…” Rey knelt, pressing her hand to the ground, and thought, almost ironically, that this is what she needed Luke for, so she could learn to sense someone with the Force on her own, learn to reach out to them. On Starkiller, Kylo had willed such an overwhelming presence in the Force that she could have felt him coming from a mile away. The island was small. If he were on it, surely she’d sense it. There was the ocean, pulsing with life, the warm core of the planet, and nothing else.

She’d have to backtrack, ask Chewie to radar the planet for any sign of human life, but a suspicion wound its way up her from stomach, settling in her chest. Luke Skywalker was no longer on Ach-To, and the map was useless.

▹▴◃

He was saying something, but all Kylo Ren could think about during his master’s lecture to him, was that here, on the Finalizer, with its standard holoprojector, Snoke was normal-sized, and his favorite little intimidation tactic had died with Starkiller. Here, he was just wrinkled creature of darkness and spite. Kylo had the Knights of Ren, Snoke had a second hand knowledge of the ancient ways of the Sith. The grandson of Darth Vader had their power coursing through his blood.

If Snoke could sense the bitter thoughts, he said nothing, continuing on about the former Solo’s latest failure. “This girl--the scavenger you failed to hold onto--and this defective stormtrooper--who you let desert my army--they are strong with the force. Surely even a whelp such as you can feel it, even when they themselves cannot.” He leaned forward, pointing one of his long fingers at Kylo Ren. “This will present to our opposition a boone, and to you another opportunity to fail me. You are making me question my abilities as a teacher, child.”

He gave a slight pause, almost baiting the apprentice into speaking out of turn. Kylo Ren knew better. Snoke bared his teeth. “And my tactical prowess, for I have clearly put too much faith in you.”

Kylo Ren was acutely aware that his knights--the six of them--were listening intently to his master, and by extension theirs, berating him, filling the patricidal young man with blinding, searing rage. It was taking all of his being to deny the urge to reach out with the Force, with his hatred, to try and pull apart Snoke’s ship through the holofeed, finishing the frail fool in the void of space. Patience, he told himself. Soon.

“...And with Ilum’s crystal, we will have finished the work of the Old Empire--destroying every major source of kyber in the galaxy.” Kylo tried to remember the last few moments, but couldn’t. He probably didn’t miss anything important from the dithering old man. “Even should you predictably fail to thin your bloodline, which you won’t if you don’t want me to outright end it, the Jedi--or any so-called light side fanatic--will never again stand against the darkness with a lightsaber drawn. That such an important Jedi temple will fall with the planet is such a delicious treat.”

There was another pause, and the fallen apprentice waited. Snoke said nothing. After too many seconds, his master spat. “Well? Bring me the heads of this scrapper and FN-2187, and you may actually prove yourself worthy of my tutelage, and I daresay the stewardship of this grand order.”

“Yes, Supreme Leader. General Hux is already at work to find them.” He was doing a horrible job keeping his voice neutral. It was somewhere between wounded but determined and imminently wrathful.

“Excellent.” He was leaning back on his throne now. “Our forces will be ready to destroy the planet--even without our Starkiller--within a few days. You must be precise in these strikes, and should you fail this, it will be your last mistake. You may ready your men.”

Kylo Ren stood up, out of his kneeling position, and forced himself to look the Knights of Ren in the eye--or helmet--and clenched his robotic, durasteel fist, letting the anger from his loss in battle fuel him further into this next mission. Before he addressed them, he sensed that Snoke has not yet ended the transmission. He stopped without turning.

“Vader lost far more than just a hand, child. Remember this.” The holoprojector finally clicks off.

Disarmed, he forgot whatever he originally meant to say to them, settling on, “Let’s kill these scum.” His metallic hand again closed into a fist.

▹▴◃

Poe was there a few minutes before Finn was officially released from medbay. He’d run into the director of the building, and now leaned against a wall, foot flat against it, chatting to pass the time. Even the Resistance fell victim to the slow but steady bureaucracy of a medical ward. “Not too busy?”

“I don’t need to tell you, Commander Dameron, that naval engagements rarely leave wounded.” The man had a sunken appearance, his eyes and hair grey, and his face tight. He looked as if he woke up tired. “Not much to do for a pilot when their ship explodes. Not many boots on the ground at Starkiller.”

Poe nodded his head, not taking his eyes off the door to the room Finn would come out of.

After a few more minutes of politely nodding at the medical director’s fatalism, Finn finally emerged from his room. He was wearing the jacket.

“Welcome back to the land of the living, pal.” Poe closed the distance and gave him a hug. “How do you feel?”

“Better.” Finn stretched his back a little and cracked his neck. “Better standing than wasting away in a cot. Is the mess open?”

Poe shook his head, “You’re not eating in that dump. Come on, I got something better.”

Finn followed as they went the opposite direction it seemed like food would be. “Wow,” he murmured.

“What,” Poe asked. They were in Hangar Xesh, one of the four maintained on D’Qar’s base. A heavy clamor of machinery and pilots shouting over the din forced Poe to turn and face Finn. “Something wrong?”

“No, no.” Finn took a moment to look over the ships, all X-Wings here, some heavily damaged, others with only slight carbon scoring. Tools and materials spilled out all around the crafts, mechanics were ducking under wings and weaving around droids and other, larger devices. “I just—“

“Not how you do things on a Star Destroyer, huh?” Poe winced. “ Did . Sorry.”

Either Finn didn’t hear the mistake over the general noise of the place, or he ignored it to move past the slight. “Yeah, no. Is that guy—“

Poe laughed and walked over to an X-Wing pilot with a dark beard and short hair. Finn recognized him from the Starkiller attack plan meeting. Poe clapped a hand on the man’s shoulder. “Yeah, he is. Snap here absolutely is repairing his canopy with medical-grade spray adhesive.”

The pilot, Snap, was finishing up and he shrugged. “Hangar Aurek has the industrial stuff. This will do until we can get any real parts in.”

“Don’t worry, buddy,” Poe said, placing his hand on Finn’s shoulder. “Each of these pilots has their own way of doing things—their own tricks, in and out of battle.” As they started to walk away together, he had to steady himself on Finn as his leg came out from under him. A shiny metal tool—Finn wished he could say what sort—rolled away somewhere. “And their own idea of ‘organized’.” He found the tool, and pointed it accusingly at an Abednedo. “That one’s on you, Threnalli!”

At the center of the hangar, some folks were busy eating away at their lunch. Finn was reminded of the austere rooms the First Order generously called ‘commissaries’—more in fact a room where one sits quietly after receiving a protein paste and nutrient broth. “You guys get bread here?”

“Yeah,” Poe laughed. “Unless Sonnen here gets to it first.”

She shook her head and pulled her pack closer to her to make room. “Sue me, Dameron. I’m from Pamarthe. Bread and fish is all we had.”

Finn didn’t notice at first, but the woman must have had at least a decade on Poe. Finn was gestured to sit next to her and Poe went somewhere blocked by an X-Wing and brought back a couple trays of food.

“Here,” he sat one down in front of Finn before sitting opposite him. “I convinced the General that it’s conducive to work if we have a spread laid out in the hangar. Less time walking across base to the actual meal hall.”

Finn didn’t really need an explanation of why food was in front of him. After a few days of constant sleep and intravenous meals, he was happy to bite into a small loaf of bread and a bit of indistinct meat.

Poe spent more time watching his friend go at it than actually eating. He was happy to seek him well again, but he was worried the former stormtrooper was hiding some lasting issues from the injury. He couldn’t just ask him, and anyway, these things took time.

Sonnel offered Finn a drink, which he immediately took, and looked at Poe. “Did you ask Leia about the Falcon? ”

“General Organa says Chewie’s got first dibs on it.” He shrugged. “Which, I mean, yeah. That’s fair. It’s not like I always crash land or anything.”

“Just the TIE,” Finn poked around a mouthful of food.

“Okay, yeah. After being blown out of the sky into a desert. Name one other time.”

“Chewbacca’s been with the Falcon longer than anyone, now…” Sonnel looked away, trailing off.

“Greer, I’m sorry about Han.”

The older woman didn’t look at him. “Yeah. Thanks Poe.” She turned her head to Finn and have a two-finger wave. “Greer Sonnel. I’m mostly a mechanic, which is a shame, since I’m the best pilot we’ve got.”

Finn nodded at her. “I’m Finn.”

She smiled coyly. “I figured as much, considering the way Poe is trying so hard to seem impressive.”

Finn swallowed hard and tried to change the subject back.”Oh, he can’t fool me. Even I could have safely landed that TIE.”

Poe smirked, “I thought you needed a pilot.”

“Well, maybe I meant to say ‘co-pilot’, smart-ass. I could’ve handled it just fine.”

“Sure, yeah. I’ll believe it when I see it.” Poe noticed Finn was about halfway done eating but hadn’t touched his drink. He still had time. “Let’s talk about the mission.”

His hand moved to the beverage. “Where to?”

“Ilum. Know anything?”

Without hesitation, Finn began reciting facts. “Arctic climate. Sector 7G. In a system of the same name. Nothing but frozen wastes. I’ve heard it was a potential host for Starkiller, but they obviously must have changed it. No other strategic value; it’s way out of the way. No settlements. Nothing but snow.” He almost brought the glass to lips, before adding, “There were rumors going around back when we thought we were gonna get shipped out there that it was an important place for the Jedi.”

Poe nodded, talking quickly before the other man took a sip. “By the Stars, Finn. You’re as bright as they come. No wonder BeeBee likes you.” Poe looked him in the eyes and smiled at his friend.

Finn felt his face get hot. “Thanks,” he said quietly. He wasn’t sure what to say. Poe was a nice guy, and compared to the First Order, he was a compliment-giving machine. He tried to look away, to think of anything to reply with, but came up short. He took a long swig of his drink, and immediately spat it out onto the table and his lap. He sputtered loudly, stood up, and shouted. “What the hell is this? Starship fuel?” He suddenly wished he hadn’t eaten at all. It seemed like more of a liability now, with his whole body retching.

Poe shook his head, trying not to laugh. Greer Sonnel took back the rest of the glass and downed the rest without expression. “Port in a Storm. Pamarthen specialty.”

Poe bit his lip. “Sorry, Finn. It’s something of an initiation ritual. Welcome to the Resistance,” he offered with meek enthusiasm. He wanted to tell him that he was sorry, or that he was proud of him not vomiting, but he didn’t know if it would be more embarrassing for him.

Finn took a second to collect himself and dab at his pants leg with a napkin, but didn’t seem upset. Maybe queasy.

“Congratulations! You’re officially one of us,” Greer gave the man a hearty laugh and a thumbs up.

Finn was about to respond with a dubious ‘thank you?’ but was interrupted when there came a chirping from farther in the hangar, followed by a metallic thud, as BB-8 rolled over to table.

Getting up, Poe snapped his fingers. “Oh, Greer. I think one of the Ticos needed to see you. Yirt Hangar.”

Together, Poe, Finn, and BB-8 made their way to Poe’s sleek, black X-Wing. “Never crashed this baby,” he said with a hand on his hip.

Greer Sonnel’s voice carried from the lunch table as she shouted, “You’ve flown it twice! You lost your last X-Wing on Jakku, too!” Poe waved her away without turning around.

Finn was still lagging behind, his mind feeling numb just from tasting that swill. “So we’re going to Ilum? Is it because of a Jedi myth? One of those things? Mythical things?”

Poe nodded. “Yeah, Leia’s been there herself before. The planet was the Jedi’s source of kyber. A crystal that powered lightsabers.”

“And super weapons,” Finn added.

“Yeah, exactly. So the First Order is interested in the planet. Leia said they might try and destroy the old temple there. We’ve got to go in as quietly as we can and observe. Figure out what exactly they want.”

Finn was putting on a pair of leather gloves when he asked, “So—like spies?”

Poe put his hand on Finn’s shoulder, and Poe felt him tense up slightly. Poe’s hand wavers and after a moment too long he tousled the back of his head. Finn noticed Poe was about to say something, but the pilot instead ducked under the X-Wing’s fuselage to check a panel.

After a minute or so, Poe came back around and finally looked at him. He cleared his throat, trying to look casual by leaning on the starfighter. “Yeah, so like spies.”

▹▴◃

The First Order’s training rooms were massive, cavernous, so much so that it was housed on a dedicated ship that trailed behind the fleet nearly everywhere they went, just to house them. The ship itself was considerably smaller than a Star Destroyer, but the ceiling still arched above Phasma’s height nearly forty feet, and an intricately and entirely man-made battlefield of obstacles laid our across the quarter klick area. This specific field was littered with troopers, bellowing back and forth, slightly less lethal blasters firing in every direction.

Off to the side, tucked away inside an observation booth, stood Captain Phasma. Her escape from the trash pit on Starkiller had been a much narrower than she’d hoped, but with Finn holding a blaster to her chest plate, and a Wookie behind him, it had been her only option. She’d made it out, and she would never allow the defeat to happen again. The entire ordeal had just proved a suspicion she’d had for several weeks prior: the Stormtrooper program required more devout attention. Her best were slipping through the cracks, and her worst should have never been allowed to leave the training fields.

It was evident that every step of the process needed to be harsher, most of the recruits did not have the cut to be half as ruthless as was needed to take entire systems. The Order suffered a tremendous loss with the troops stationed on Starkiller gone, but already she was training a new batch to ship out. They weren’t quite battle-ready yet, but they’d have to do for the increased recruitment intake-- they were shipping out to Kef Bir, a lonely moon in the Endor System, tomorrow. She was looking forward to seeing what the new batch was made of. With any luck, some trauma would serve these troopers well.

[harringtonstilinski]

You’ll Always Be My Hero - Chapter 96 ; Triggers

Author: @harringtonstilinski​ Characters: Stiles Stilinski x Emma Thomas (OC) Word Count: 4,855 Warnings: angst, squint for fluff, comical at some points???,  A/N: Hi, friends! 96 Chapters down, 4 to go!! If you like this chapter, please do not hesitate to reblog and give some feedback, whether it be in the reblogs, comments, or my inbox. As always, read at your own risk and enjoy 😊

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The next day, part of our plan was set in motion. Mason would lead Nolan to the zoo where Theo would lead a few things to make Monroe’s crew think that we were sleeping there instead of… not at the zoo. 

Hopefully, if we play our cards right, Nolan would let Monroe know where we were and send some of her goons to the zoo to kill us. Did I mention that it’s an abandoned zoo… that Liam and Theo will be staying at… to make it more believable?

As Mason did his, Scott, Malia, Lydia and I were sitting with Argent in his black SVU, him and I sitting up front, the other three in the back. My phone vibrated with a text from Mason. Turning around in my seat to face those in the back, I informed them, “It worked.”

“It’s about time,” Malia said, moving to get out of the car.

“Wait,” Scott said. They both were silent for a moment before Malia said, “I hear them, too.”

“Care to inform those of us who don’t have werewolf hearing?” I sassed out.

Scott looked at me, saying, “Heartbeats.”

“How many?” Argent asked.

Scott concentrated for a moment before answering, “Ten?”

“More,” Malia corrected. 

“Look,” I said, holding my hand out, palm up. “Are we breaking in or not?” I sat back in the seat and crossed my arms, mumbling, “I have a very important phone call to make.”

“Not,” Argent said. “The Armory should be empty by now.”

“Yeah, and plus, Stiles can wait,” Malia said.

I turned my head back to glare at her. “Thanks for that vote of confidence. It’s just that I don’t know if Sheriff told him anything.”

How I knew Scott sighed, I’ll never know, so I explained further. “I forgot my necklace, okay? I had to get it. Claudia gave it to me.”

“Alright, whatever,” Malia said. “We can take down a few hunters if we have to.”

“We’re dealing with a dozen well-armed hunters--” Argent said.

“Who have orders to kill us on sight,” I interrupted.

Scott, Malia, Lydia and I looked at each other before Malia leaned over Scott, asking Argent, “Then how are we supposed to get inside?”

~~~

I guess Argent was anxious or something, maybe tired of waiting because he leaned forward and turned the engine over. I saw someone’s hand shoot in the front with me and him, turning the engine back off before they pulled back.

“Gerard thinks we’re gone,” Malia said. “It’s a good plan.”

“It’s our only plan,” Lydia and I deadpanned.

“And it’s not working,” Argent said.

“Wow. Way to be optimistic,” I sassed, narrowing my eyes at him.

“We can still do this,” Malia said, voice cheery.

Looking back forward with an eye roll, I looked at the windshield, all voices in the car either echoing or vanishing out completely as the glass cracked. I leaned forward, putting the tip of my finger on the crack, causing it to spider web out. Pulling back not even a centimeter, it continued to crack. I swear there was another noise involved, but couldn’t make out what it was as Scott’s hand landed on my shoulder.

“You okay?” he asked.

Coming back into reality, I put my hand on top of his, nodding my head. “Yeah.” I closed my eyes for a moment, taking in a much needed deep breath. Once I opened my eyes again, I looked back at the windshield, noticing how normal the glass looked. “I think so.”

He squeezed my shoulder as Argent said, “We should call off this mission.”

“Brett and Lori are gone,” Scott said. “And Jiang and Tierney are still missing. Gerard’s always one step ahead of us.”

“Yeah, Argent,” I said, voice softer than Scott’s. “I totally agree with Scott. We have to do this now.”

“We’re too exposed, guys,” Argent said. 

“You said we had ten minutes,” Malia said.

I watched Argent look at his watch, stating, “Nine.”

  Feeling the car jerking, I looked back at Scott, seeing that he was leaned over as if he were going to be getting out of the vehicle. “Scotty, what are you doing?”

“I’m gonna lure them away so that we can get inside,” he explained.

Malia reached over, taking his hand away from the door before she locked it.

“We need a new plan.”

“Not a dumb one,” Malia said.

“I’ll bring the thermite charges,” Scott suggested.

I sighed. “Scott, we need them for the Armory. Plus, Malia, why'd you lock the door?” “So he won’t leave,” she said.

“Sweet baby Jesus,” I whispered.

“Look, explosion will buy you time,” Argent said. “But not enough to get in and out safely.”

I looked over to my right out of the window, face an expression I give Stiles when I’ve had about enough of him for the moment. “Guys.”

“How about using the tunnels?” Malia asked.

“We could get underneath the building, but we’d still need to sneak in undetected,” Argent said.

“Guys,” I said, in a singsong tone.

“The ventilation system?” Scott asked.

“Same problem,” Argent said.

“Y’all, they’re leaving!” I yelled, watching two other black SUVs drive away from the building. As soon as they were clear, the five of us hopped out of the vehicle, Argent getting his weapon of choice from the trunk.

As we were walking up to the building, I looked at the gun in Argent’s hands, softly chuckling.

“What?” he asked.

“I just can’t believe you’re using a paintball gun,” I whispered.

“You can tease me about it later,” he said, slightly opening the door and shooting a pellet at the camera before letting the rest of us walk in, Malia dragging a body in the room with us and dropping him to the floor.

“The thermite charges will take care of the weapons,” Argent said. “Just make sure you’re clear before they detonate, okay?”

“Yeah, we will,” I said. 

“Emma--” Scott said.

“Nope. We’re not having an argument about my damn safety. All of you can yell at me later.”

Scott sighed as Argent and Lydia walked to the control room as Scott, Malia and myself walked down another hallway. Coming around a corner, I spotted a guy standing in front of the door we needed, quickly backing up and crashing my back into Scott’s chest. Motioning to the corner, Scott got what I was laying down, giving Malia a look that said for her to wait… which she didn’t.

Scott and I peered around the corner, watching as Malia grabbed the guy’s gun, pushing him against the wall so hard that he was knocked out before she pushed him against the opposite wall, letting him fall to the floor.

I looked back at Scott, seeing him have that that was hot look on his face. I smacked his chest, grabbing his shirt and pulling him down the hall. “You can have steamy sex with her later.”

As Scott and I got closer to Malia, I heard a gunshot, stopping my steps and turning around to face the source… which there was none.

“Did you guys hear a gunshot?” I asked.

“I didn’t hear anything, Em,” Scott said.

“Yeah, same here,” Malia said, confusion laced in her voice.

I sighed, and closed my eyes for a second before opening them at the sound of shell casing hitting the ground. “Shell casings,” I whispered.

“What?” Scott asked.

“I heard shell casings,” I said, turning back around to face them. “I saw Argent’s windshield crack before I heard it shatter.” I sighed, coming to a stop between the two. “I think he was right. We should’ve called this off.”

“Em, our lives are on the line because of Gerard,” Scott said. “In order for us to succeed at this, we gotta stay. We won’t get another chance otherwise.”

I tilted my head back, letting out a deep breath. “Yeah. You’re right. Let’s do this.”

The door to our right opened, Argent letting us in. Malia was the first to go in, then me and then Scott.

Looking around at the empty room, my mouth hung open. “What in the actual fuck?” I said, shock lacing my voice.

“Where are all the guns?” Malia asked.

“They knew we were coming,” Scott said.

“Well, I could’ve told you that,” I sassed.

~~~

Looking in every wooden crate that was in this room, I sighed in frustration as another box was empty.

The speaker in the room crackled, my head turning over my shoulder to look at it as Argent’s voice came through, “Guys, get out of there now.”

“Let’s go before they all get back,” Malia said.

The three of us started walking towards the door before Scott turned around, almost crashing into me. 

“Sweet baby Jesus, Scott!” I said.

“What?” Malia asked.

“That scent,” Scott said.

“What scent?” I asked.

“Behind that door,” Scott said, putting his hands on my shoulders, turning me around to face a metal door.

“It’s Jiang and Tierney,” Malia said.

“Are you sure?” I asked.

“Guys, you need to leave now,” Argent said.

Making a very unwise decision, Scott looked over at Malia, saying, “Help me with this,” before they both moved towards the door. Putting both their hands on the handle, they pulled while letting out strained grunts.

“No, no, no,” Argent said. “Don’t open that door!”

Did that stop them? No. No, it didn’t. Because the next thing that I knew… the door was opened… and not a second later, the door that we came in through… shut on its own.

“Either this place is haunted or we just set off an alarm,” I said, the other door behind me shutting not two seconds later. “I’m banking on the alarm.”

Malia went to one of the doors, trying to push it open while I walked up beside Scott, pushing the door the rest of the way open. 

Inside of the room on the wall was a map, seven large red dots in certain spots. On the table underneath it was what looked like two skulls with a couple of claws sitting in between them.

On the table to our right, what looked like an alligator foot stood on display along with a patch of skin in a glass case looking thing. I covered my mouth as I recognized the tattoo on it, looking up to see two werewolf ears above it.

“Where’s Jiang and Tierney?” Malia asked.

I pointed in front of me with a shaky hand, taking in a deep breath.

“They’re here,” Scott said, putting a hand on my shoulder, voice sad.

“That’s all that’s left of them,” I whispered, my own voice shaky.

Scott started to walk me out of the room, but stopped once we both heard the sensors activate.

“Well, that can’t be good,” I sassed, a red laser scanning across the floor. I grabbed onto Malia’s arm, pulling her back. “Watch it.”

“What is that?” Malia asked.

“Motion sensor,” I explained. “If they already know we’re here--”

“What do they need a sensor for?”

“I don’t think we wanna know,” Scott said.

“Look,” I said. “I’ve seen enough movies with Stiles to know that if you trip a sensor, bad things can happen. Very bad things.”

Not two seconds later, a clanging noise sounded, almost sounding like the noise I heard the same night Stiles had his MRI when Void was in his mind before Argent’s voice came through, telling us, “Don’t trip the sensors.” Pretty much confirming what I said.

Another sensor went off, another red laser scanning almost at head level.

“Come on,” Scott said. He ran forward, jumping over the bottom laser beam before ducking under the second one. I followed him, and Malia followed me. Scott jumped on top of one of the shelves, reaching his arm out for me to take. Taking his hand, he pulled me up, our chests meeting. Uhm, yeah, this wasn’t awkward. At all. Malia, I guess, landed on the one behind us.

Scott sighed, resting a hand on the back of my head, sighing, “Okay.”

Sighing, I leaned up, telling him, “Sorry,” before he grabbed my shoulders, saying, “Wait!” and pulling me back down.

“Your heart is beating super fast,” I said, my ear resting on his chest.

“Yeah, well… adrenaline and all that,” he said.

I chuckled, moving my chin to rest on his chest. “You know Stiles might actually kill you for this, right?”

“We’ll just say that I was protecting you. Which I am.”

I shrugged my shoulders. “Fair enough. But. This is slightly…”

“Uncomfortable?” he finished.

“Little bit,” I sassed. “I mean, when we were kids, we’d sleep in the same bed as, like, a comfort thing because of your dad, but… I mean, it is comforting, but it’s also a little uncomfortable. Considering, ya’know… Little Scotty’s kind of poking me a little.”

Malia snorted at my comment, unable to hold back her laughter.

“I should probably do something,” Scott said, looking around at our surroundings.

“I’ve got an idea,” Malia said.

“Whatever it is, please do it fast,” I said, Scott chuckling underneath me. “Sweet baby Jesus,” I whispered, resting my forehead on his chest.

“It’s actually kind of a plan.”

“Sounds great,” Scott and I said.

“You two don’t even know what it is yet.”

“Don’t need to,” I said, sitting up a little bit.

“What we mean is that it’s great that you have a plan,” Scott said, putting his arms on my shoulders and pulling me back down onto his chest, the both of us sighing.

“Guys, look up at the ceiling,” Malia said. “See the padlock? I’m thinking that’s our way out.”

Scott and I turned our heads to look at the padlock hanging from the ceiling. I sat up a little, confused look on my face as Scott turned his head back to look at me.

“We-- we can’t reach that,” I said.

Scott pulled me back down… for the third time. “If you don’t stay still--”

“Have you ever known me to stay still, Scott McCall?” I sassed. “Malia, you could trip a sensor.”

“Em, trust me,” she said. “I’ve got this.”

“Okay,” I said. I was fully sure she wouldn’t trip a sensor, but there’s no harm in trying not to… right?

We watched the sensors carefully before Malia jumped from her shelf, landing on a pole not far from Scott and I. “You got it,” we said.

With a grunt and a kick off the pole, Malia grabbed a support beam above her, legs dangling below her.

“Mal, babe. Beam,” I said. She pulled her legs up onto the support beam, successfully not tripping the wire.

Scott and I looked at each other, relieved sighs leaving both of our mouths. We watched as Malia swiped at the lock twice with her claws out before swiping once more, breaking the lock and sending it to the ground.

“Shit,” I whispered, as she and Scott celebrated.

“Yes!” Scott said.

“No,” I corrected. The lock landed on the ground, the broken pieces bouncing off the floor, hitting the motion sensor. An alarm went off, sending a smoke-like substance into the room. Scott gripped me tightly, turning us over and sending us flying to the ground, him letting out a pained grunt as his back met the floor breaking my own fall, Malia landing next to us.

We started gasping for air, and I was brought back to when we were quarantined in the Vault.

~~~

I wasn’t sure how long had passed --could’ve been an hour or just one minute-- before I was laying my head in Scott’s lap with Malia sitting next to him, her head on his shoulder. I was sweating and running out of air. At least if I was gonna die… again, it’d be in my best friend's arms… again. I started to close my eyes before I heard Scott’s voice ringing in my ears.

“Emma?” Scott said.

“Yeah, Scotty?” I replied.

“Keep your eyes open,” he said. The three of us jumped not long after hearing something explode outside the door.

“Right back at ‘cha,” I said, breathless. I looked up at him, raising my arm to place my hand on his cheek as he closed his eyes. “Scotty,” I whispered.

He jumped, and looked down at me. “Hey, try not to talk.”

“I don’t wanna die like this,” I said, voice still a whisper.

Placing a hand on my cheek, Scott leaned into my touch, saying, “Oh, Emma.”

“She’s right,” Malia said. I felt her hand on the top of my head as she said, “I don’t want to, either. Not like this.”

“Em, the more you talk--” Scott said.

“The more oxygen that’ll run out of my body, I know,” I said. “I don’t care. I’m not dying here.”

We looked at each other with sad eyes as I swallowed the little bit of saliva I had in my mouth, taking in a deep breath. “I was supposed to have my internship. I’m supposed to marry Stiles one day with you by his side. I’m only 18. I haven’t worn a white dress yet, I haven’t had babies that look like Stiles… there’s still too many things I want to do. All with my True Alpha werewolf best friend by my side.” I took deep breaths, not because I was trying to calm myself down, but because I was running out of oxygen as I looked at him. “I don’t wanna die here. Not here. Not like this. But if I do, I want you to do something for me.”

“Emma--”

“No. Just do something for me,” I said, earning a nod from him in return. Speaking between breaths, I said, “Tell Stiles… that I love him… and that I wished… more than anything… to marry him… like we said. He’ll understand… what you’re saying. Tell him… that I would want him… to move on… even if he feels… like he can’t. You stand… by his side… through everything… understand?”

Scott nodded, tears in his eyes at hearing me talk this way, but I had to cover my tracks in case something did happen. He put his hand on top of mine that was resting on my stomach. Spreading my fingers apart a little, I laced our fingers, holding onto his hand tightly.

Just as I could feel my resolve slipping, I heard the door creaking, Lydia’s scream on the other side. I closed my eyes, head rolling further down Scott’s legs as the door rattled.

“Emma, hold on,” Scott said, hands on my face. “Okay? Just hold on.”

His words fell on deaf ears as everything started to fade out; sounds, lights, my breathing, my heartbeat, everything. Feeling him taking in a deep breath, everything still started to fade. 

“Get her out of here,” Argent said.

I felt myself being picked up, head hanging back as Scott’s voice told me to hold on. Taking a deep breath of fresh air, I picked my head up, coughing as I wrapped my arm around Scott’s neck, feeling his shoulders sag in relief.

“Thank God,” he whispered, kissing my hairline. “I thought we lost you again.”

I looked up at him through my lashes. “You can’t get rid of me that easily,” I teased.

~~~

Malia had hopped into the backseat of the Jeep, helping Scott to put me in safely and gently. For some reason, the gas that was released into the air to suck all the oxygen out had more of an effect on me than it did them. I’m guessing it was because of me being a hybrid. Once Scott got in and started driving towards Stiles’ house, I decided to spark up a conversation, wishing that Lydia was here to hear it as well.

“Scotty?” I said.

“Hmm?” he hummed.

“You remember what I told you back there when the air was running out?”

“You mean about your internship?”

I knew he was being vague, not saying what I needed him to say. “No. About marrying Stiles one day.”

“Yeah,” he answered.

I turned my head over my shoulder, seeing Malia smiling a little as I tried to get Scott to ask me the one question I wanted him to ask. “About marrying Stiles one day?” I said, looking back at his side profile. Watching as his brows scrunched in confusion, I sighed. “Scotty--” I held my left hand up, letting him see what I was talking about.

He glanced at me for a moment before putting his eyes back on the road. “Yeah, it’s your promise ring.”

“Yeah, but--?” I said, hoping he was picking up what I was laying down. He wasn’t, face still full of confusion. “Sweet baby Jesus, Scott. Why would this ring be on this finger?”

“Because Stiles would ask you to marry him and you say yes,” Scott said. After a few seconds, it hit him. “Oh. Oh! OH!”

“There it is, ladies and germs,” I sassed.

“Wait, when did he ask?” Malia asked.

“Well, I don’t think it’s official since it’s only a promise ring, but he said that with this on my finger that I could start referring to him as my fiance until he, like, officially gets down on one knee. So, we’re kind of engaged?”

Scott chuckled. “Yeah, I already knew. He called me the other night and told me.”

“I’m gonna kill him,” I mumbled, earning chuckles from all three of us.

~~~

After Scott and Malia brought me home, I told them to get back to Scott’s and take showers, whether together or not, wasn’t my choice. Though, I did text Scott and told him to just… well, ya’know… make her feel good. To which he replied with a middle finger emoji (🖕🏻) that I sent back with a cheesy smile emoji(😁) and a crying laughing emoji(😂).

I took a much needed shower before I decided to FaceTime Stiles. I hadn’t talked to him since the night we were trapped at the station because of Monroe. Unlocking my phone, I went to my contacts and pressed on his, my face showing on the screen. A few moments later, I smiled as my video went up into the corner.

“Well, hello, my sleepy handsome,” I said, a smile on my face as I walked into his room.

He smiled sleepily, running a hand through his hair. “Hi, beautiful. How was your day?”

“Oh, ya’know,” I said, pulling the covers back to get in the bed, taking a deep breath to launch into my explanation. “Just your typical afternoon of sneaking into a warehouse to blow up some guns only to not find said guns, and set off an alarm system that activates motion sensors for you to dodge ONLY THEN-- I’ll tell this part of the story that involves Scott later--, and then a padlock falls to the floor in pieces setting off another alarm that causes a gas like smoke to rain down on you that sucks all the oxygen out of the room and you almost die again. So yeah. Typical afternoon. How was yours?”

He chuckled. “It was alright. Worked on the case a little bit more. Nothing I can really talk about.”

I nodded my head in understanding, totally getting where he was coming from until I saw his face scrunch up in confusion.

“Wait. What do you mean you almost died again?”

I sighed, closing my eyes for a moment. “At the warehouse, or Armory that Gerard is using as a base for Monroe and her fucking goons. Scott, Malia and I accidentally set off an alarm that activated some motion sensors; one at our feet, one at our head and another at the top of some shelves that we had to lay on top of. Well, Malia jumped from the unit she was laying on and onto a pole beside me and Scott. She ended up dangling like a spider monkey, swiping at a lock on the ceiling for us to get out. Well, the lock ended up falling to the ground in a few pieces and tripped one of the sensors, causing another alarm to go off. Smoke came from some vents above us, all the oxygen in the air being drawn out. They have those in case of fires. Anyway, I’m not sure if it’s because I’m like a fucking hybrid or something, but I ended up almost dying… again.”

“No, I get all that,” he said. “I mean the again part. When did you die before?”

“In the Vault,” I said, glancing away from my phone for a moment. I sat up more when it dawned on me. “You forgot, didn’t you?”

Like a lightbulb went off in his head, he started chuckling. “Yeah. I guess I kind of did.”

I chuckled along with him, almost scared to tell him about mine and Scott’s uncomfortable position in the Armory. “Uhm, there’s something I gotta tell you, and I’m not sure how you’ll react or if you’ll like it.”

“What is it?” he asked.

I sighed. “Alright, I’ll make it short. In order for both of us to fit on top of the shelf that we were on, I had to lay on top of Scott.”

Stiles chuckled, putting his hand over his eyes. “Just tell me one thing.”

“What?” I asked.

“Did he get a boner?” he asked.

I pulled my lips between my teeth before putting my fingers up to my face, my index finger and thumb spaced apart a little. “Just a little bit.”

It was silent for a moment before we both just broke out into laughs. Once mine had died down, I let out a soft breath. “I miss that laugh. So much. In person.”

“Same for yours, baby,” he whispered.

I smiled a little, missing him a lot. “I’m gonna let you go. You look exhausted.”

“I am. Had a long day.”

I nodded in understanding. “I totally get it.”

“Alright, baby. Good night.”

“Good night,” I said, sleep hitting me like a bus.

“I love you, beautiful.”

“I love you, handsome.”

~~~

I didn’t even get to think about sleep as Mason came to pick me up and take me over to Scott’s. Apparently, Argent wanted to talk to all of us about the map we’d taken from the Armory. I didn’t change out of my pajamas and I didn’t want to think about it.

Argent, Mason, Melissa, Lydia and I were standing around the table with the map in the center. 

“What are the red dots?” Mason asked.

I looked at the map again, putting my finger on the one over California and closed my eyes. I saw the drawing of my tree that Stiles had on his dresser. “It’s a Nemeton, they’re all Nemetons.” I looked around as I heard crackling, all of our names ringing in my head.

“What does Gerard want with them?” Melissa asked, bringing me back.

I looked at Lydia, her nodding that she heard it, too. 

“If they’re like the one here…” I said, trailing off at the end.

“Then they’re beacons for supernaturals,” Mason finished for me.

“Exactly,” I whispered.

“If you wanted to kill every supernatural creature in the world,” Argent said. “These are where you would start.”

“Well, then Gerard isn’t gonna stop with Beacon Hills, is he?” Melissa asked.

Argent shook his head a little, looking over at Melissa. “He wants the whole world.”

The door opening and closing caused all of us to look at the source; Rafael McCall. “Where’s Scott?”

“Upstairs. Probably getting it--” I said.

“Why?” Melissa interrupted me.

“I’m gonna ignore your comment, Emma,” Rafael said, flustered. “He can’t leave. No one can.”

“But, just yesterday you wanted us out,” I said, confused.

“Emma,” Melissa warned. “Nice to see that you changed your mind, but I’m afraid to ask why.”

“It’s Gerard’s weapons,” Raf said.

I looked behind me at the sound of shell casing hitting the ground.

“Dad?” Scott said. 

“The guns, they’ve all been distributed legally to the citizens of Beacon Hills,” Raf addressed. “All of them, and at no charge.”

Moving to stand next to me, Scott said, “What, he just gave them away?”

“No,” Argent said. “He’s arming his army.”

Turning my head with a jump to face the window, I heard glass shattering after a gunshot sound.

“Get down!” Lydia said, pulling Mason down to the ground.

Scott pulled me to the side right as an arrow shot through the window… only there were two of them. Flash arrows.

I crawled my way under Scott as Malia put her arms around him, gun fire sounding. I watched as Raf pulled his gun from its holster, red lasers shining through the window. I was laying in a weird position, everyone facing the window while my back was the only thing facing the window.

What struck me as odd was I didn’t feel the searing pain of a bullet entering my left thigh until I felt pressure where the wound was. There were two names and two names only ringing in my head.

Emma. Melissa. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N 2: hi, friends let me know what you thought! again, please do not hesitate to reblog and give some feedback, whether it be in the reblogs, comments, or my inbox.

Additional Note: i probably won’t do anymore timezone reblogs from here on out since the feedback on this series has stopped, and reblogging isn’t doing shit.

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*Please don’t post my writing anywhere else without my consent. The author of this work will always and forever be @harringtonstilinski.

All characters, story lines, and plot aside from Emma and her storyline & plot, are all of the work of Jeff Davis. Our home slice Emma was made up all by me. As well we her parents and their storyline throughout the series.

*These works contain material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited.

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Posted on August 16, 2022