#they’ve already done the same thing for him all this time and managed to make him worse I mean… go the opposite direction now chief lmaooo

[nynyhaha]

Do you think Chrollo expected the Troupe to last 12+ years? The expectations set at the start largely determine his current views. How good did they do?

Now Ofc he’d want it to ✨last forever✨ or as long as possible,but how long did he think they’d actually get to live?

Chrollo in yorknew carries himself with a confidence that the Spider will live on way beyond him,we somewhat feel like the adventure is only starting. But at the same time he is lost and doesn’t really know the direction the Troupe is heading in.

At the start he mentioned offering up their lives in order to: -find Sarasa’s murderers and get revenge -free Meteor City from crime/mafia so that no child can be kidnapped again

We know the troupe later also broke the deal where Meteorians are exchanged for money. This is a significant achievement,it implies the Spider provides enough money instead,and it hints at the fact that the previous points are already done,that Chrollo has achieved what he planned.

Those were things that he was ready to die for,things for which the others were also ready to sacrifice themselves. And that’s what they kind of expected,right?

My theory is that they greatly surpassed their expectations.

If they were still fighting for any of the above,we wording have this sense of directionless roaming around that is present in the yorknew arc. The Spiders seem to be beyond the theme of revenge unless it directly affects them. Uvo even said he hates those who fight him for revenge reasons (and I wonder why).

Maybe little Chrollo would’ve marvelled at the progress he managed to make in those years,but he probably couldn’t know how it would affect his psyche. He knew he’d become a “villain” but he probably meant that he’d be fighting for a noble end using bad means. What is that end now?

The Spider needs some sort of plan to justify its existence. For its death to be a tragedy,it needs the will to live and some goal to achieve. Or is it a question of a candle stump losing its flame once it’s burned down?

Should the Spider just retire?

If they have achieved all of their previous goals,the answer could well be yes. Sadly those goals aren’t milestones that you have to reach once and for all,but Meteor City’s safety is fragile and needs maintenance.

And yet,it’s never stated as the reason why the Spider has to keep moving. Maybe to the characters it’s obvious,but we as the audience can only speculate. Also it would make the problem way too simple.

“Oh the Spider is still needed back at home” Ofc it is,duh,but that’s not enough to satisfy the quest for meaning.

It would be interesting if the Troupe started out as a team that’s some sort of necessary evil (and the backstory chapters present it in such light) but now that all it’s done it’s no longer necessary so just evil, but they don’t see it as such.

You know,a band of child soldiers that grew up and is now terrorising the world because their original purpose is completed.

But how is the Troupe unnecessary when it’s the solution to the Mafia problem? It’s rather that they don’t know how much more that can do and how much of that will matter at the end.

No one is forcing them. All of their duty is “self inflicted”,they chose to carry that burden.

Are they suffering from success?

Chrollo thought on the way to avenging Sarasa he might loose his own life or some of his friends. He made that commitment still,and then they all survived. Ok,they lost number 8 & 4,but those weren’t original members and it’s still lucky that the rest made it all the way to yorknew. Yk,after they’ve already done what they wanted (and yes,they have already found the murderers,fight me on that, I KNOW its the truth).

So Uvogin and Pakunoda didn’t die on the way,but after they’ve arrived at the top.(But at the top there was nothing :()

Is that to say that they could’ve hopped off and lived a safer life? At this point they were unable to. Much like Chrollo,they might not have a proper self outside the Spider. AND YET the reason it hurts so much is because they died for the Spider after it lost its main goal. This is why Chrollo quickly needs a reason to ground it all since they couldn’t have died for nothing.

There must be a reason why they’re still doing this other than “we can’t otherwise”, right?

RIGHT?

In conclusion, Chrollo is what happens after one survives the “Kurapika arc” and completes his revenge. He might be free to live on,but after he threw away his life and morals already,this existence looses meaning and so do all deaths for the sake of it.

[smoreal]

When are they gonna completely transform shadow to be ‘friendly’ and/or out of character in any new medium lmaooo

we’ve gotten kind of an asshole sonic and preachy sonic in the past, and silver’s character has changed from serious and reflective to almost skittish and nervous

Shadow’s turn when??

[mrsackermannx]

chef!sukuna who’s still lower in the rank than he wants to be, but so close to being a sous. tonight is his night to do the night’s special dish, finally. he earned this. he knew that if the head chef just let him, he could create the best dish ever served at this damn place.

so, he does just that.

he’s immediately scolded, the dish uses too many ingredients, the head says. too much to prepare. too ambitious. even though he used all of the left over ingredients from the menu’s usuals. 0% waste, 0% additional cost.

sukuna curses, taking a deeper drag of his cigarette. “make sure no table gets that shit,” he hears, with his fists clenching at his sides. ill go to the gym after this, he thinks, yeah, punch the fuck out of that bag.

it turns out that only table 8 has the dish, your table. the server messed up and now they’re crying in the back to the porter because they’ve been fired on the spot. “i told you not to fucking take it! have you never done expo-“

sukuna stalks calmly to the shaking waiter, “show me table eight-“ he sighs, levelling the head chef with a glare, sukuna was much larger, much stronger than him, difference in rank or not. he stood down, stalking down the other side of the kitchen with a huff. “ignore him, i wanna see who’s eating my dish, come on, let’s go.”

a reassuring pat to the shoulder from sukuna was almost enough to make him cry even more. sukuna kind of hated everyone.

“just there, chef. the couple, bedside the pillar on the left…its um…her, chef.” he grins, watching how transfixed the normally gruff man is, “your girl heh heh.”

“shut up,” he says, but he smiles a little.

he watches you, sat opposite some guy you hardly look interested in, you’re beautiful, the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, as always, his eyes are drawn to you, no other woman could compare.

he watches you slice through his dish, the fork at your lips, as soon as it reaches your mouth you make a noise of such rapture, a sudden quiet falls upon the floor of the restaurant.

it’s almost weird how heat rushes low at the sight and the sound, he can’t remember the last time anyone else fired him up like this. he never took himself to have any kind of food fetish, either. yet watching you eat his dishes always seems to be an erotic exchange he never anticipates.

“oh…him? think they’re married?”

“i don’t think so.”

that man seems to hiss at you, eyes on his watch, barely touching his dish. “i wanted pizza downtown, god.”

you shake your hand in dismissal, shoving another forkful in your mouth. “i wanted this, i always want this.”

sukuna let’s out a breathy fuck, and the server practically faints.

no one was immune to sukuna’s charm, then, it seemed.

“oh, fuck, table 7 saw me. fuck, chef ive already been fire-“

“go and give them a reason not to fire you. go, go to your table kid, it’s still yours, right?”

the table beside you seems to have called him over, asking for the same dish you seem to believe has came from heaven, telling anybody who asks.

sukuna can’t help but enjoy the lively affair, as the restaurant manager tries to explain over and over to more and more tables that the chef special has been cancelled. oh, how he loved this little bit of chaos.

“why?” your voice clatters through the cacophony like a piece of silverware on crockery. “this dish is phenomenal, the best ive ever eaten here and in this city, in this country-“

“miss-“

“taste it! can you not taste the hard work? the thought? its the best thing ive ever eaten. the chef who made this has impeccable taste and talent.”

your laughter rings through the place at your partners embarrassment. sukuna is about to pry himself away and head back into the kitchen, leaning on the side of the bar and then…your eyes meet, another forkful is waiting before those glossed lips. another sweet sound of joy rings through the air.

now you see him, huh?

your smile is sweeter than agave, “it’s you.”

your words are lost on everyone around you, but to sukuna he hears them as if you whispered them right against his ear.

sukuna was a tall, broad, and unquestionably handsome man, unmissable out of his chef whites, invisible in them, somehow. obscured by the ambient lighting of the restaurant.

you near him, like a moth to a flame, a sensual air to the way your hips flick toward him. “you-“

the head chef storms through to the restaurant floor, the door slamming you both into the corresponding wall. his large arms wrap around you, his hand cups the back of your head.

he slowly retracts his hand, and your chest rises as you resist the urge to press your cheekbone into his palm, “are you okay?”

his voice is deep and addicting, dark and dripping down your throat.

you’re beaming at him, like he’s an angel, like he’s somebody you already adore. he gifts you a lover’s laugh, “you seem to be the only satisfied person in the building tonight.”

“seems like you’ve satisfied me sir.” you wink, still letting his aura press you into the wall, he cages you in with his arms.

“oh?”

“last thursday. that soup, you made it, didn’t you…?”

“sukuna,” he answers for you, “maybe.”

“seafood special last month?”

“yes, and your name?”

for some reason he’s out of breath, you’re so close, so fancy in your silk dress, clad in jewellery that sparkles even under these dimmed lights. “reader, you…you’re a genius.”

“so you came to thank me personally?” he leans closer, swiping sauce from the corner of your lip. it lingers on his thumb, his eyes chase yours as he licks it. “how sweet of you.”

[adventuringblind]

Mentor Them

Lando Norris x Reader X Carlos Sainz

Genre: Smut

summary: Carlos teaches his teammate some good bedroom skills. feelings come to light in the process.

Warnings: Smut, PinV, porn with plot, oral (m and f receiving), denial, overtimulation, Dom Carlos, Sub reader and Lando, bandage

Notes: You know who you are. You did this to me. I will not be speaking on the subject.

Masterlist

Carlos has taken a liking to his younger teammate. He’s also taken an interest in said teammates relationship.

Lando, in the year and a half Carlos has known him, has kept the same girlfriend. But the thing that fascinates him is how oddly similar they are. The only difference is their energy. Lando is a bit more bouncy and chaotic, whereas she is soft-spoken and shy.

Carlos knows it’s weird. But he’s also not oblivious and incredibly intuitive. He notices the flustered laughs and blushes Lando gets when he’s around. He sees how the female looks at him until he catches her.

He knows both well. Wherever one is you can find the other not to far behind. It’s like they are each others safety blanket.

Is it bad he wants to absolutely ruin both of them? He tries not to think about it to much. They just look so soft together that he can’t help himself.

It’s after a race one afternoon that Carlos realizes he may have his fantasy fulfilled after all.

Lando came knocking on the door of his room in the McLaren motorhome. He was already blushing when Carlos let him inside. For the first time in a long time, there is no female in sight and Carlos thinks something bad may have happened.

“I need to ask you something and you’re not aloud to laugh at me.” The Brit says in an arguably strict tone.

“Anything. I won’t laugh.”

“I need help with, uh, bedroom stuff.” He looks down in shame ad Carlos is quick to stand up and lift Lando’s gaze to meet his.

“There is no shame is asking about that.”

Lando looks like he might go into shock but he manages a simple “Okay.”

~

Carlos goes over everything him and Lando had talked about on his way to their room. The two are trying to experiment but have no idea where to start.

Is he taking advantage of the situation? Probably. But for right now he’s just going to let himself enjoy it. Teach them a few things. Maybe even make a mess of them both in the process.

The one thing he’s mildly concerned about is the female. lando had made it clear that he doesn’t care what happens, but she has a tendency to not speak up if she doesn’t like things because she’s afraid of disappointing. It doesn’t help that she is shy and even struggles talking to Carlos despite having known him for awhile now.

Lando also mentioned her ability to not make any sounds during sex like her life depends on it. Her entire body could be spasming and she could still be silent. Another habit he’s hoping to break tonight.

He takes a deep breath and knocks on the door.

~

She has no idea what to expect. Lando and her had been thinking about this for some time now, inviting Carlos to join them. She just wasn’t sure what the whole ‘experimenting’ excuse is about. Her and Lando have done plenty of that!

Dynamics are a little funky a times because they’ve both had to learn to be switch’s. They fumbled for a bit, but she thought they’d done plenty of that and that their sexual health is fantastic.

Then he explained that he kind of fibbed because this counts as experimenting, technically speaking. He also said that Carlos didn’t hesitate to say yes and got excited at the proposal. It makes her wonder if Carlos has also thought about them in this way.

Lando sits next to her on the bed. His arms wrapped around her and his head in the crook of her neck. “remember Carlos doesn’t know how to read you like I do. You’ll have to communicate verbally with him.” She just hums. She doesn’t know why she does it, her voice just leaves during sex and it’s so hard for her to speak. “For me, please?”

“I will, for you.”

They don’t get to continue their conversation as they hear a knock at the door. Lando bounds to go and greet their guest and she curls herself into the corner of the bed. Just her and her breaths for a minute.

The curious sound of something hitting the wall fills her ears. Then follows the wet sound of sloppy kisses and a few moans. Finally they come into view and she can see Carlos smothering Lando in a full mouth kiss. She even thinks she can see the swipe of their tongues every now and then.

When Carlos pulls away, he looks between them with hunger. “Why do I feel like you two actually know exactly what you’re doing?”

“Cause I sorta kinda fibbed.”

“I can tell by the way you let me shove my tongue down your throat with ease.”

Lando blushes at the statement. ‘Oops.”

Carlos sits on the end of the bed and swings himself around to face the female. He motions for Lando to join and a small smirk tugs at his lips when he obeys.

“Complete transparency: I have thought about this for awhile now.”

She exchanges a look with the Brit. Turns out he has been thinking about them as well. “So have we.”

“So the experimenting?”

“Technically this is experimenting.”

Carlos just shakes his head. “You could’ve just asked and I would’ve said yes.”

The girl uncurls from herself just a bit. “It’s hard to do when you have a crush on the person you’re asking.” The smile on Carlos’ face is unreal. He looks ecstatic and it makes her feel fuzzy on the inside. “We were going to ask if you wanted to try things with us. Like, in a romantic sense.”

Her and Lando look at him expectantly. The Spaniards smile seems to grow even more. “Yeah, I think I would like to try that. But I have one condition.”

“And what would that be?” Lando’s tone is a bit snarky but she knows what he’s doing. He has a tendency to rile people up quickly. Namely her. In a sexual way.

“I want to take you both apart tonight.”

The stunned silence that falls between them is ridiculous. the fact that she’s not sure what he means by that and the idea of watching that happened seems very appealing. She does not register, however, that Carlos said both of them. She’d already settled for mostly watching the two of them go at it. Not to much involvement on her end.

There are no words exchanged. Just Lando staring at the Spaniard as if waiting for his doom. Not a bad way to go out really.

And just as suspected, when there is even an inkling of confirmation, Carlos is once again choking his tongue down Lando’s throat. The two of them clamber back onto the bed with nothing but clumsy chaos.

The female curls into herself further. She watches in awe. The same feeling of losing her voice during intimate moments comes crashing over her, and she has no clue what she should do.

If she's honest with herself, she would be perfectly content just watching. She lets her mind wander to the future and what their life might look like together. If people found out what they might say.

She doesn't realize she's been spacing out until Lando is calling her name. She must have been gone a while because he and Carlos are both missing their shirts.

She feels clueless.

Carlos, in all of his beauty, gently grabs under her knees and slides her almost fully underneath him.

The hungry stare makes her squeak. It's nothing like she's ever seen before. Lando is usually needy and whiny, but this is nothing but pure untamed lust.

He hovers over her. Hands moving to pin her wrists to the mattress beneath her. He studies her. His eyes move down her body as if calculating how to best attack.

She's panting heavily. A pause. A calm before the storm.

Then something in him snaps.

His belt is off in seconds. Carlos finds Lando's wrists and uses his belt as some sort of makeshift rope. One that he won't be getting out of on his own. Lando won't be doing much touching if his hands are stuck behind him, and she wonders what Carlos is planning.

Carlos is half straddling her now. The other hand of him towering Lando. His hands gripping messy curls. "You said you can't get her to make noise? If that's the case, I feel that you haven't been doing it right." He grabs Lando's chin and directs his haze at her. "You've had such a beautiful girl, compliant even, and you haven't made her cum so hard she's praying your name?"

Carlos clicks his tongue. He strips Lando of the rest of his clothes. Completely bare. Unless you count the belt, keeping his hands from really doing anything.

"We're using colors for safe words. Are you both familiar?" She shakes her head yes in confirmation, and Lando gives a verbal answer. "I need words, princesa."

How is she ever going to get through tonight if he calls her things like that? She breathes and attempts to make her paralyzed vocal chords work. "Yeah..." it's barely even a whisper, but Carlos looks so pleased with himself.

The Spaniard maneuvers Lando back onto the bed on his knees. He grabs his jaw again and looks so stern that she thinks he might actually be upset. "You are not going to finish until you pull a noise out of her. Do you understand?"

A slurred "Yes sir" stumbles out of the Brits mouth. Then Carlos is back over her body. He tugs at the bottom of her shirt. The outer layers are shed so easily. She's not self-consciousness, even quite confident with how Lando compliments her every opportunity he gets. Yet Carlos' hungry eyes make her want to shield herself.

It's overwhelming, a good overwhelming, but still overwhelming.

"Don't hide away from me now. If you do that, I can't teach Lando how to pleasure such a good girl."

Is it possible for a human to melt? Because she is most definitely melting. Putty to be molded as the Spaniard pleases.

He works off her bra with skilled fingers. She goes again to try and close up but Carlos is quick to catch her and pin her hands.

He kisses her neck, her lips, her shoulders, the center of her chest. It's such a contrast to the roughness she saw with Lando. He's being slow and taking his time with her. Lando looks like he is enjoying being punished to an extent (he's always been a bit of a brat for her).

She sucks in a breath when Carlos' tongue and teeth find her nipples. He goes back and forth between both of them. Her breathing is heavier than it was before. More labored from the stimulation.

Still no noise.

He captures her lips again and then trails his lips all the way to the last piece of clothing she has on. Her body shivers in anticapation. He tugs at the elastic and makes eye contact with her. "Can I take these off?"

The nodding her head in response isn't going to work, and she knows that. She steels herself and forces her voice to work even if it's small. "Please." A blink, and you'll miss it type of whisper, but he hears her.

He drags them off. Hands running across her body in an almost desperate motion. He pries her legs apart easily. You'd think she was weightless. Another confidence booster since she's got a 'not a supermodel' kind of body. In her opinion, at least.

Carlos goes back to kissing her. Now, adding small bites as he goes. He's teasing the area around where she would like him to be. Again, not complaining, simply enjoying what he's giving.

He pulls away, and she huffs. He looks satisfied with it. "Maybe if you begged for it, I would keep going." He smirks. Her eyes widen in the realization that he wants to get her as vocal as possible. Not just for Lando, but for himself also.

Carlos manhandles Lando in between her legs. She can feel his warm breath clinging to her body in all the right places.

"Do you want me to just sit here or...?"

A flash of movement and a small amount of force appear out of thin air. Lando's tongue is everywhere she jeeds it to be. Carlos passes her a curious look. "Is he always like this." She shakes her head yes. If only he knew the half of it.

"Remember amour." He whispers into Lando's ear. "You pull a noise out of her, and you can finish." Then he looks at her. Gentle eyes but stern voice. "And you can finish if you want, but do not make a sound if it isn't real. Let him be desperate and learn from this."

And oh how desperate he would become.

Carlos doesn't make it any easier on him. She knew it was going to be torcher for the Brit when Carlos asked if there was lube in close proximity, and the answer was yes.

Hands are everywhere. Touching, feeling, grabbing, spreading. Her nerves are on fire from all the stimulation. Lando whining into her core and Carlos continually shoving the Brit further into her is making her feel all sorts of ways.

Her body spasms without warning. The deep sated pleasure hit her in a wave.

Silence. A little labored breathing. But still no noises pulled from her.

Carlos halts all movment. Lando cries from having no physical contact. Limbs flail like a child whose mother said no to ice cream.

"I guess we'll have to try something different, huh Landito." How Carlos can move people around so effortlessly is beyond her. The positions are reversed now. Though she is sitting more comfortably since she has her hands.

Carlos takes the courtesy of letting his hands free. The Brit immediately runs his hands all over both of them.

Carlos pulls her body into his back. Fingers caress her sides, then grabs her hair. He pulls hard enough so that she can look at him, albeit upside down in a way.

He places a chaste kiss to her nose, causing her to smile a bit. "I want to hear the words. Tell me you want me to fuck you. Tell me you want to be a good girl for me."

It comes so naturally this time. Like begging for him is her first language. It's the only thing she knows. It falls from her lips in the form of a prayer, and Carlos looks satisfied with her for it.

Something happens when he slams into her without warning. Her hands grip onto Lando's thighs, and her mouth falls open.

Something between a shreik and a moan leaves her, and it's shocking. Carlos doesn't stop, but he's reveling in it. "See princesa, you sound so fucking beautiful. Moan for me more. Whine for me with Lando in your throat."

And so she did. Like she found her voice despite it never really being gone. Carlos had unlocked something in her mind that let her get past the mental block.

Lando looks like he might cum just to the sound of her. It's his favorite song on repeat, and every noise makes his eyes roll back further.

Praise. Both are praising her. It only makes her do it more. Her mind is so far gone that it's possible she'll never recover. Lando has gotten her here before, but never this far.

They are both gone. Deep into the glassy eyes and fuzzy headspaces that she doesn't care what happens next.

She's choking off Lando's length, but she can't be bothered to care. His hands fist her hair as he slams his hips into her face. His breathing is labored and mouth open. His words are swimming in her ears as are Carlos'.

She fell over a while ago. She's been over the edge for an insane amount of time. Lando spilling down into her throat only pulls her deeper into it.

Carlos is getting sloppy with his relentless thrusts. She feels him stutter and pulse onside of her. His angle hitting her where she wants it.

That small voice in the back of her head is glad Carlos was responsible and put on protection. He doesn't pull out until he's done.

They are all sweaty, but it doesn't matter. She finds herself in Lando's lap. He's buried in her. His hands are tracing the sensitive lines he knows so well. She reciprocated the gentle affection.

Carlos has complete control of the situation. He lays wet kisses to every area of skin he can get to. He praises and degrades in all the correct ways. Guides them through every action. Lando pulling ever sound he'd been longing to hear for over a year from the depths of her soul.

It's bliss. They'd been at it so long that she couldn't control her own body anymore. Gone are coherent thoughts.

Carlos stops them. Gently slowing both down with his hands as guides. "You're both such beautiful creatures."

They fall into a heap. Her and Lando can barely move and settle for holding hands and staring. Sleep because the best idea she has ever had. Her eyes droop.

"No sleep yet. Don't want you getting sick or subdropping on me." Carlos chuckles as he presses cold rags to their skin. "I would have you bathe, but I don't think that would I can manage you both in there."

"Thank you, Carlos, really." Mumbles Lando.

"I should be thanking you two. I've wanted this for so long. It's hard to believe it took us this long." Carlos runs a hand through his hair. "Tommorow I'm taking you two out for a real date."

"I think I speak for both of us when I say that we would love that."

"I seconds that." She mumbles before throwing herself over the boys in a head of bodies and comfort.

[steddielations]

“Evening, sir.”

It’s the Harrington boy. Again.

“I told you, son, it’s Wayne,” he manages a smile, harder to do these days, like chipping it out of cement and dusting it off. But he gets it done.

Steve doesn’t have the Henderson boy with him today, that’s a first.

“Where’s the curly one?” He steps aside, letting Steve into the trailer door, more rickety than before. No money left to fix it after repairing the bulk of the earthquake damage.

“Dustin? He doesn’t wanna watch the game, and trust me, you don’t wanna listen to that kid complaining the whole time,” Steve walks by, sorta chuckling to himself, “I always miss the replay ‘cause he makes me change the channel to those D&D cartoons during the commercials, just like—”

He stops in front of the couch, looking over his shoulder at Wayne like he’s afraid he messed up somehow. Wayne noticed that look often from him, less and less, but still often. All that confidence he carries can drop on a dime, sorta reminded him of—

“Like Ed?”

“Yeah. Sorry.”

“S’alright. I don’t mind talking about him if you want,” Wayne manages another concrete smile, but he means it. Steve always waits for him to bring up Eddie first, like he doesn’t want to remind him if it ain’t on his mind, but Wayne likes to be reminded. It’s nice to feel like he’s not the only one missing him. “But the game was yesterday and y’know the cable’s out.”

“Yep, got it covered. I uh, I taped it,” Steve fishes a VHS tape from his back pocket. Fancy. Wayne would worry about him using that for his sake, but he has a feeling Steve’s folks aren’t around enough to notice.

“The Colts win?”

Steve flips the tape around, “Haven’t watched it, so we can bet on it if you’re feeling lucky.”

It doesn’t feel so dry and heavy when Wayne laughs a bit then, waving Steve to go ahead and start up the TV. He already caught the game on the radio, but he bets on the Colts anyway. Loser’s supposed to do the dishes after they scrounge together some soup, but Steve does them anyway.

Wayne would make a stink about it but he can tell Steve just wants to help, to feel like he’s helping. Same thing when the Henderson boy comes around to see him, wanting to hear all the stories, even the scary ones. So Wayne doesn’t mind letting Eddie’s friends feel like they’re helping him.

His nephew didn’t have many friends. Real, cover-your-six kinda friends. The boys he played his music with, they’ve come by a couple times, Wayne always liked Jeff despite the racket. That older fella that’s doing time now, Wayne wasn’t too fond of. And some of Eddie’s dungeon buddies he talked about were the only few.

Now, casual acquaintances? Anybody who didn’t have anywhere else to sit when he had an empty spot at his table? Sure, Eddie had those in spades.

His boy was good at that, putting on a good old show for his crowd, on a stage to keep his distance. That damn Al did him in good, never could trust easily, having his old man pop up and drag him into his mess before he took off again. And Eddie’s poor momma would’ve done right by him, if she hadn’t gotten sick so young.

Took Wayne a long time to get Eddie to depend on him, to trust this was his place to stay and he didn’t have to earn it, Wayne wasn’t just filling his head to scheme something out of him.

Love ain’t a transaction that way. He wasn’t ever any good at saying it, but he tried to show Eddie the best he could.

His boy though, always carried a debt with him. Like he owed Wayne something for taking him in, had to graduate quick and make it outta here, do something with the better life he gave him. Al dug him in so deep, Eddie stayed roped into whatever his latest scheme was (the cars, the dealing, the gambling, thank God Eddie wasn’t there when the goddamn robbery went wrong, 25 to life) like maybe it’d be enough to keep him from running off again.

The odds have never been in favor of people like them, poor folk in a town that’s stuck in its ways, where everybody’s just like their old man, but Al made his choices and Wayne made his. Rest their mother’s soul, she did her best. Part of Wayne was relieved when Al got locked up, at least Wayne had a better chance of keeping Eddie from going down the same path, try to raise him right.

Being a Munson wasn’t a crime. He didn’t owe a darn thing to anybody. Eddie could graduate at his own pace, play whatever games and music he wanted, dress however, that didn’t mean he was up to no good. And a lot of boys get into dealing for a little easy extra money around here, he was gonna grow out of that just like Wayne did.

It worked until all this mess.

That’s why Eddie ran off after what happened to the poor Cunningham girl. He gets spooked when something goes wrong, like it’ll be the last straw he can’t make up for so he runs off. Like the first time he didn’t make senior year, went and hid out with that Rick fella that Wayne never did like, got Eddie deep into that business he tried to keep a secret.

‘Course Wayne knew. He knows exactly what and where his boy hides. If those damn cops weren’t tailing him, he would’ve gone straight to get him.

That was before he knew it would turn into all of this. Now he wishes he would’ve done it anyway. Gone right to Eddie, told him it wasn’t his fault that everything got all turned upside down. Told him he knew he was innocent right from the get-go, and got him away from this rotten old town.

But he didn’t.

He didn’t go get his boy.

So now he’s just trying to be there for Eddie’s boys, since he can’t.

“You have a night shift tonight right? Gonna put on a pot of coffee,” Steve says once he’s finished up the dishes.

Wayne hums. There’s usually more noise going on during these visits. Steve’s still alright at carrying on, even without the Henderson boy’s chatter to fill any gaps.

It was strange, the first time the two of them showed up. Wayne knew Eddie was close with Dustin, but he didn’t have a clue that he was chumming it up with the Harrington boy. Just don’t seem like the same type of company. He might not believe it if it weren’t so obvious that Steve cared about his boy. He suspected before, but now with Steve showing up here alone, he knows.

Steve misses Eddie in a different sorta way than Dustin.

“No cream or sugar, right?” Steve looks humored by that as he passes the mug of black coffee to him, “How are you related to Eddie again?”

Wayne’s mouth turns upward, remembering his nephew’s god awful sweet tooth. He picked up a box of Honeycombs the other day in the store out of habit. “Just happened to be standin’ there when they beamed him down.”

That gets a good chuckle out of Steve. Nothing wistful weighing it down and Wayne’s glad, watching Steve pour himself a cup of coffee too.

Then bitter-sweetness swirls in his chest, seeing the mug that Steve chose for himself. Must’ve dug it out from one of the boxes Wayne hadn’t hung back on the walls yet. The earthquake did a number on his collection. That Garfield one was the only one he’d gotten around to gluing back together.

“What is it?” Steve asks, cup paused at his mouth.

“Ah nothin’ just,” Wayne waves it off, “That’s the mug Ed always used.”

“Oh, I can use a diff—”

“Nah, nah go ‘head. It’s fine.”

Unconvinced, Steve takes a wary sip.

Mostly these days, Wayne just feels like a watch without a ticker, a chest with nothing beating inside it. He can’t name the feeling he has at seeing Eddie’s old mug being used by someone else, but at least it’s something.

“Y’know, he used to put everything in that sucker. Soda pop, soup, cereal, you name it,” Wayne shakes his head, mouth twitching into a smile, “I’d have to wrestle it away from him just to give it a good washing. It’s well loved, alright. Leaks now.”

As if on cue, Steve has to grab a napkin to sit underneath it.

Wayne lets out an amused hum, “He uh— Didn’t have much stability ‘fore he came to live with me, so he’d get real attached to things like that.”

Carried around a stuffed dragon they picked up at a garage sale ‘til Wayne couldn’t sew the wings back on anymore. Never wanted to throw anything away. Got real anxious about Wayne going to work sometimes, even when he was too old for a sitter. Held onto him saying “Stay home just today, Dad, please.” Which, he didn’t mind Eddie calling him that. It always softened him up, made him give in. Wishes now that he’d told Eddie upfront. Maybe he never would’ve stopped.

“Thought for sure he’d marry that damn guitar one day.”

Steve nearly sputters his coffee, laughing at that, “Yeah, those two are made for each other.”

It’s nice, seeing the way that story lit Steve up. Sorta like his boy can still make someone happy. Hurts like hell that he ain’t here to do it himself, but Wayne was always good at telling stories. That’s where Eddie learned it from.

“I’m uh,” Steve deflates after a minute, looking down at the mug, “God, I’m just really sorry, Wayne.”

“Yeah. I’m sorry too, Steve,” he says, because, well.

Wayne gets the feeling that his boy was Steve’s boy too.

Read the rest on Ao3

[urdreamgirls-dreamgirl]

i hate accidents except when we went from friends to this.

kiss me once ‘cause you know i had a long night, kiss me twice ‘cause it’s gonna be all right, three times ‘cause i’ve waited my whole life

Steve’s phone buzzes in his pocket. He’s technically not supposed to have it on the floor, but it’s 9:30 on a Wednesday night and the store’s dead anyway.

Eddie 🎸👎: date’s a dud engage emergency protocol immediately 🚨🚨🚨

Steve rolls his eyes and clicks the little phone icon near Eddie’s name.

“Hello?” Eddie manages to sound both confused and concerned.

“Help, help,” Steve deadpans, leaning his elbows on the counter. “I’m having an emergency that only you can help me with.” Steve’s done this enough times in the three years they’ve lived together to know that Eddie can think up his own lie to tell his date.

“Oh my god, I’ll be right there, Steve.”

Steve’s not sure how Eddie manages to make it sound so convincing every time, but it’s enough that even Steve might start to believe it if he wasn’t the one calling.

Eddie hangs up without saying goodbye, probably to tell his date some exaggerated story about how Steve’s fallen in the shower or fell off a ladder. Somehow, all Eddie’s emergency scenarios involve Steve hurting himself in increasingly embarrassing ways.

By the time Steve’s got the store tidied and closed and walked the four blocks to their apartment, Robin and Eddie are already on the couch in the living room. Steve can hear them bickering over what to watch from the front hallway as he slips off his shoes and shrugs out of his jacket. He follows the sound of their voices to find them practically wrestling over the remote.

“Jesus, can’t leave you two alone for more than five minutes. You’re worse than the kids,” Steve says as he makes his way across the room and into the kitchen for a bag of chips. It wasn’t the healthiest dinner, but he was too exhausted to cook.

“There’s leftovers from the diner in the fridge,” Eddie calls out to him, not even missing a beat as he pries the remote from Robin’s white-knuckled grip.

“You took leftovers on a first date?” Robin asks him, appalled, as if it’s the most unheard of thing Eddie’s ever said.

Steve’s popping the styrofoam container into their tiny microwave as Eddie tells her, “It was a second date for your information.” He puts on an episode of Ghost Adventures without asking anyone’s input.

“Wow, someone made it past your rigorous first date interview? Shocker.” Robin crosses her arms and huffs in annoyance, because she was also going to put on Ghost Adventures but it’s the principle of the thing. You just don’t take a woman’s remote from her, under any circumstance.

“Hey, it’s imperative for me to suss out a potential partner’s commitment to the music gods,” Eddie says.

“‘Potential partners’?” Robin scoffs. “I thought you said you were in your slut era?”

“Well,” Eddie seems to lose his footing here. “I am. But I can’t be fucking anyone who listens to Tame Impala.”

“Steve listens to Tame Impala.”

Steve has made it back into the living room in time to see the blush rise on Eddie’s cheeks.

“Good thing I’m not fucking Steve then, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, good thing.” Even Steve can hear the eye roll in Robin’s voice.

Because the thing was…

Okay, so the thing is…

The long and short of it is that they’re not fucking.

But they’re also, like. Not not fucking.

It’s just that sometimes, after a horrible date or a stressful day or even just when they’re feeling incredibly horny, the apartment can feel kind of lonely, even with two roommates. So. They… do stuff. Together. No penetration, but. Yeah. Enough for it to be called ‘fucking,’ probably. At least Steve thinks so.

But they haven’t told Robin. They’re both pretty sure she suspects. She’s not a fucking idiot and Steve thinks someone living under the same roof as Steve and Eddie would have to be in order to be that oblivious. Steve’s pretty sure she’s been trying to get one or the other of them to confess, but they’ve held strong so far. It’s not that they were hiding it, exactly. It was just that, whenever this thing inevitably came to an end or imploded on them both, they didn’t want to have to explain it to anyone. At least that was what Steve was thinking, because it’s not like they actually talk about it.

Neither of them say anything else, so Steve makes an attempt to change the subject.

“So what did you tell your date this time?” He asks Eddie before shoveling a forkful of reheated pasta into his own mouth.

Eddie smirks. “I told him you cut off the tip of your finger with your crafting scissors while you were scrapbooking and then passed out from the sight of the blood and hit your head on the corner of the coffee table.”

Steve pauses with his fork halfway between the takeout container and his mouth.

“I thought these emergencies were supposed to be believable.”

“I’ve literally walked in on you scrapbooking multiple times, Stevie,” Eddie says it like he’s stating the obvious.

“I could never cut through my fingers with my crafting scissors.”

“Oh, that’s what you take issue with about that lame-ass scenario?” Robin scoffs again.

“There’s nothing wrong with scrapbooking,” Steve says defensively.

“Didn’t say there was,” Robin mutters, turning her attention back to the TV. “Can you guys shut up now? I’m trying to watch my stories.”

Steve rolls his eyes and shares a look with Eddie before doing as Robin says and shutting the fuck up. He drops down into the lone armchair to finish his leftover diner food, attention fixed on the television. He thinks he can feel it every time Eddie’s eyes dart over to look at him.

~*~

Later, after Eddie’s snuck into his bed around one a.m. and they’re laying there next to each other in the afterglow, Steve asks, “So the date really sucked?”

Eddie sighs. “I mean, he was nice and all, but there just wasn’t any, like… chemistry or whatever. You know what I mean?”

“Yeah,” Steve responds, his voice low. Steve hadn’t been on a date in months, hadn’t felt the usual impulse to flirt with strangers incessantly. Robin kept saying he was in a lull or a slump or something, but Steve does start to feel lonely sometimes, especially when Robin is out with her girlfriend and Eddie has a date and he’s left to his own devices in their shared apartment. Even though, more often than not lately, Eddie’s dates almost always end in “emergency protocol” and the two of them wind up tangled in Steve’s sheets. Steve can’t help but think that it’s only a matter of time before all of this comes to an end, before Eddie finds someone who’s perfect for him.

Someone who isn’t Steve.

~*~

Three days later, Steve and Eddie wake up to the blaring honk of Steve’s alarm, wrapped around each other. Steve can’t help but notice the way Eddie looks when he’s just woken up, soft and rumpled, hair a tangled mess on top of his head.

“Ugh, make it stop,” Eddie groans, scrubbing a hand down his face, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

Steve slams his hand down on his alarm clock and flops back onto his pillows, even though he really should be getting up for work. He wraps a hand around the back of Eddie’s neck before dropping a kiss to his forehead and pulling him back to lie against his chest.

“Don’t wanna get up yet,” Steve mutters, eyes falling shut again. The blankets are warm and soft and the weight of Eddie on his chest is enough to have him drifting back into sleep.

Eddie doesn’t let him though. Instead, he plants his palm on Steve’s chest and pushes himself upright, making Steve groan in dissatisfaction.

“Gotta get up, dude,” Eddie tells him, yawning and climbing out from under the covers to pull on his discarded sleep pants. “Got, like, seven engines to fix today. Something about spring, man, everyone’s car starts to break down.” Eddie pulls his t-shirt over his head before opening Steve’s door and sticking his head out, making sure the coast is clear.

Eddie leaves the door slightly open and crosses back to Steve’s bed, planting a kiss on Steve’s cheek, like he just can’t help himself.

“Won’t get off until late and then I have a date, so keep your phone at the ready,” Eddie smiles when he says it and Steve wants to trace his dimples with his tongue.

“Coming home first?”

“Nah, just gonna shower at the gym next door,” Eddie stretches. “See ya later, Stevie.” And then he’s out the door and slipping quickly into his own room down the hall.

Steve doesn’t like the way Eddie’s bedroom door sounds as it clicks shut.

~*~

Steve has the early shift at the store, so when he gets home in the late afternoon with two bags of groceries, he’s got the apartment to himself. Robin’s spending her weekend off with Vickie and Eddie’s still at work before heading off to his date.

Steve puts his groceries away, makes himself an early dinner, and then positions himself in front of the TV. He puts his phone face up on the coffee table, so he’ll see it when Eddie texts him to get out of his date.

He gets lost in the Real Housewives of Wherever for hours before he remembers he’s supposed to be keeping an eye on his phone. He taps the screen and sees there are no notifications. That’s weird. It’s already well past nine; Eddie usually texts by now for a rescue.

Steve sits back on the couch, eyes on his phone where it sits on the coffee table in front of him. He watches it for a few long moments, willing it to ring.

It doesn’t.

~*~

Hours later, Steve wakes up to the front door slamming shut. His face feels plastered to the leather of their second-hand couch. He knows it’s Eddie coming through the door because he’s the only one of them that lets it slam when it closes.

Steve reaches for his phone, still on the coffee table where he’s left it. He taps the screen and sees that it’s already after two in the morning. Eddie comes into the living room and seems surprised to see him on the couch.

“You’re still up?” He asks, eyebrows pulling together.

“You didn’t call,” Steve tries to make it sound casual, but even he hears the accusation in his own voice.

“Uh yeah. No. He was, uh. Kinda cool, actually,” Eddie smiles to himself and it looks so soft and sweet in the dim light of TV. Steve feels his chest go hollow seeing it. He swallows.

“Well,” Steve clears his throat. “That’s great.”

“Wanna hang out?” Eddie asks. Steve’s not sure if he means hang out or hang out, but either way, Steve can’t bring himself to say yes.

“Nah.” He yawns. “Early shift tomorrow.” It’s a lie, but who can blame him?

Steve gets up off the couch and crosses the room before Eddie can say anything.

“Oh, sure,” Eddie mutters as Steve brushes past him on his way into the hallway. “Goodnight, Stevie.”

Steve feels his throat constrict, like he might cry if Eddie says anything else. He clears his throat again. “‘Night,” he returns, before he shuts his bedroom door behind him.

~*~

Steve stews in it for a couple of days. He’s annoyed and grumpy and even Robin starts avoiding him after he snaps at her one too many times for no reason. He’s avoiding Eddie, but he suspects that Eddie is also avoiding him.

Which is absurd. It’s not like Steve changed the rules. He’s not the one who changed their routine. Who went on a date with someone else and enjoyed it.

That thought gives Steve pause because that’s not what this is, is it? He’s aware that he’s not very good at keeping his emotions out of his sex life. He knows he gets too attached too soon. But Eddie is his friend. You’re supposed to have emotions for your friends. You’re supposed to hate everyone they date. You’re supposed to want to spend all your time with them. Right?

Fuck. Fuck. Steve is maybe out of his depth here.

By Tuesday night, he has no choice but to go to Robin.

“I fucked up,” he says without preamble, walking into her room without knocking and flopping face first onto her unmade bed. She just watches him from where she sits at her desk in front of her laptop. Eddie has a late night band practice after work, so they’ve got the place to themselves.

“Yeah, how?” She asks.

“I… am not sure. But I feel bad.” Steve is practically whining at this point.

“Can I tell you what I think without you getting mad at me?” Robin’s tone is cautious in a way that it hardly ever is with Steve.

“When do I ever get mad?” Steve scowls at her, the side of his face smooshed into her pillow so he can see her.

“Gee, I wonder.” Robin rolls her eyes. “You’ve been testy since Saturday, babe.”

Steve huffs but it’s not like he can deny it, exactly.

“Whatever, I’m in a bad mood,” he grumbles, picking at a thread on her comforter.

“Yeah, and why do you think that is?” Robin’s question sounds decidedly pointed.

“I dunno. Full moon or something. Something’s in retrograde, probably.”

Robin sighs. “Look, I’m going to say something to you and I want you to just listen and synthesize the information, okay? Just shut up.” Steve grunts and Robin clearly takes that for assent. “I think that you’re in love with Eddie.”

She says it so matter-of-factly that Steve sits straight up on her bed so he can look at her fully. His eyes dart to her open door. “What?” He practically spits out.

Robin rolls her eyes again. “Yeah, whatever. I know I’m not supposed to know about the… whatever you want to call it. But you guys aren’t exactly subtle. Or quiet.” Steve’s jaw falls open. “I know you’ve been fooling around for months. And you haven’t had to figure out your feelings for each other because you haven’t been dating at all and every date Eddie’s been on he’s sabotaged himself. And now he’s had a great date and you’re feeling threatened, obviously. You’re jealous, Steve.”

Steve just looks at her for a moment, before saying, “I actually hate you so much.” He looks back over toward her open door. “Did he say it was a great date?”

“Ugh, you’re pathetic.” Robin balls up a piece of paper and throws it at him, before turning serious. “Just tell him, Stevie. I’m pretty sure he’s into you just as much as you’re into him. You should see the way he stares at your ass when he thinks no one’s looking. It’s truly disgusting.”

Steve throws the ball of paper back at Robin, hitting her squarely in her forehead.

~*~

Steve locks himself in his room for the rest of the night, obsessing over what Robin has told him. He tosses and turns all night thinking about it. He’s vaguely aware of the door slamming as Eddie comes in from band practice around midnight and he thinks that maybe Eddie might linger just a little longer outside Steve’s door, but he doesn’t knock. Just pauses before he moves on to his own room.

Steve wakes up late the next morning. He has to rush through his morning routine and by the time he makes it to the kitchen for breakfast, both Robin and Eddie have left for the day. Luckily, Steve has a midday shift, so he has a bit of time before he has to leave for the store. He leans against the counter, spooning cereal into his mouth. As he places his dirty bowl and spoon in the sink to clean after work, his eyes get caught on the whiteboard they have hanging on the fridge.

Second date tonight, keep phone handy -E

Steve feels his heart start beating fast, almost erratically. His fingertips go numb. He licks his lips and leaves the kitchen, slipping on his shoes and jacket and leaving for work.

~*~

Steve comes home to an empty apartment. Robin has some study group and Eddie has his date. Steve can’t help but feel a little depressed as he walks through the door to nothing but quiet.

He makes himself dinner. He puts something on the television. He places his phone face-up on the coffee table, just in case.

It doesn’t light up with a notification until well after nine. It’s a phone call. From Eddie.

Steve fumbles his phone as he lunges to pick it up.

“Hey,” he says into his phone’s speaker. “Thought you had a date.”

“Yeah,” Steve can tell Eddie’s smiling, even though he can’t see him. “Was wondering if you had some kind of emergency to tell me about?”

“Um.” Steve is confused. This isn’t the normal script. He’s supposed to call Eddie. Not the other way around. “I don’t. Know? I mean. Yeah. I… need you?”

“On my way, Stevie.” And then he hangs up.

~*~

Steve’s paused the TV and is sitting on the living room couch in silence by the time he hears the door slam shut. He looks up as Eddie walks into the room.

“Hey,” Eddie greets him, voice low. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Yeah, been… busy.” Steve inwardly cringes at how he sounds, knows it’s a lame excuse, because Eddie knows him. He knows why he hasn’t seen Steve.

“Right,” Eddie smirks. “So… can we talk?”

“Sure, whatever.” Steve tries to sound casual, thinks he misses it by about a mile.

Eddie sits in the armchair instead of next to Steve on the couch. Steve tries not to take it as an insult.

“I was on a really good date tonight, Stevie,” Eddie tells him, voice soft and slow, like he’s breaking bad news to Steve. Steve’s heart clenches in chest, hard and painful. He nods, eyes on everything but Eddie. “He was cool and funny and actually had good taste in music.” Steve’s not exactly sure he really needs to hear this. “But…”

Steve feels a small flutter of hope in the pit of his stomach. “But?” He prompts, still not looking at Eddie.

“But.” Steve can tell from his tone that Eddie’s smiling again, that same smile he’d heard on the phone. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you. About sitting here watching dumb reality shows with your arm around me. Waiting for your call even though I hadn’t texted you.”

Steve’s eyes snap to Eddie’s. He licks his lips. “What.” He doesn’t say it like a question.

“I wanted to be with you, Stevie. Always wanna be with you.” Eddie looks nervous now. He pulls at a rip in his jeans. “Do you… what do you think about that?”

“I, uh.” Steve’s mouth is suddenly dry, voice just a little hoarse. “I think it’s… good.”

“Good?” Eddie snorts. “You think it’s good? Gonna need a little more here, Steve.” Eddie still looks a little nervous, but his smile is starting to form again.

“Yeah, like. Really good.” Steve licks his lips again. “I always wanna be with you, too,” he adds softly.

“Yeah?” Eddie asks, and he sounds vulnerable in a way that Steve’s never really heard before. He’s fully smiling again, small and soft, like maybe he can’t believe his luck.

Steve smiles back at him. “Yeah.”

And then they don’t say anything at all. Eddie crosses the small space between them and tackles Steve back against the couch. Their lips meet, soft at first. Then Steve let’s out a moan, opens his mouth under Eddie’s and the kisses turn decidedly less soft and more horny.

~*~

The next morning, Steve’s phone dings on his bedside table. He reaches over to read the screen.

Queen Robbie✨💕: love that u guys have figured ur shit out, but can we work out a system or something? i heard u [redacted] and then [redacted] and also [redacted]

Steve smiles before dropping his phone back on his bedside table and turning over in his bed. He pulls a sleeping Eddie into his arms and drops a tiny kiss to the back of Eddie’s neck. Eddie lets out a sleepy little moan. Steve could get used to waking up like this every morning.

———

An anonymous benefactor gifted me with lyrics from “Paper Rings” and here is what I’ve done with them.

Just two things: 1. I have never seen Ghost Adventures, but I imagine it would be one of the only shows both Robin and Eddie could agree on and 2. I have never listened to Tame Impala, I know nothing abt the music (beyond the fact that it’s just one guy??? see, I am hip and cool, gen z), so this is not intentional slander, I promise!!! It’s just the first thing I thought of.

Oh ETA: I also know nothing abt cars or what mechanics do, I assume they sometimes fix engines.

[beenbaanbuun]

chain w/jjonggi

words - not many… probably like 650??

genre - smut 🙂‍↕️

warnings - dom!jongho, switch!mingi, sub!reader, masturbation, punishment, restraints, that’s literally it

i’m just thinking about jongho tying you to the bed, chuckling as he watches you squirm. you’re ready for him, already prepped and wet, waiting for a cock to slide right into your aching hole. you’ve done everything you could think of; whined, begged, even gave him a few crocodile tears in the hopes of him showing an ounce of mercy. unfortunately he’s in that all too familiar mood where mercy is a foreign concept. it is a punishment, after all.

“be good and wait,” he scoffs from his position leaning against the doorframe. his arms are folded as he looks down on your naked form, “mingi needed to finish things up and you know how upset he’ll be if we start without him,” his gaze flicks to the door, as if he himself was getting annoyed at the amount of time your other partner is taking to ‘finish things up’, whatever that means, “although if he doesn’t hurry up it might be him i have to punish instead. why is it that neither of you can be good for just one day, hm?”

it’s as if mingi could hear jongho, as just as the threat spills from his lips, there’s a tap upon the door. it’s almost too polite for the situation at hand, but then again you suppose it is mingi. the gentle giant is too sweet for his own good sometimes, and while you have no doubt that he’d he’d love to be as forthright and aggressive as jongho, he’s just a little… pathetic.

he looks it too as he cracks the door a little, peering round the painted wood with wide eyes and parted lips. it’s like he’s half gone already, brain already losing itself to the pleasure that awaits him if he manages to behave himself enough. with the amount of time it took him to clean the kitchen after dinner, he doesn’t doubt that he’s already walking on thin ice with jongho; he’ll have to be extra good if he wants to cum tonight.

“fucking finally,” jongho rolls his eyes as the tall man stumbles his way fully into the room, “you were gone so long, i almost thought considered letting you take our pretty one’s place once they’ve learnt their lesson!”

“there was a problem with…” mingi starts, but lets his words trail off as jongho hooks a finger beneath his chain and tugs. it doesn’t take much for the older man to stumble forward, responding just like a dog on a leash when jongho drags him towards your naked form. on clumsy legs, mingi stumbles after him, whatever he was going to say long forgotten.

“good boy,” jongho says upon mingi’s descent into silence, “you know i don’t give a fuck about your excuses.”

he guides mingi closer to bed, using the necklace to guide him into a kneeling position on the edge on the mattress. your legs are spread around him, calves bound to the bed frame by the same lengths of ribbon that keep your hands above your head. if you weren’t in enough trouble already, you might’ve asked for the hulk of a man to move closer, but one look at jongho’s stony expression tells you that it would be the wrong move. you remain quiet, hoping your obedience will redeem you in his eyes.

“pants down,” jongho says as he paces the foot of the bed. mingi responds without a second thought; a mindless puppet under jongho’s command. such a goody-two-shoes, you think to yourself as his thumbs hook over his waistband and begin to tug at the fabric. “just until your cock is out, mingi; that’s the most important bit, isn’t it?”

mingi nods, sickeningly desperate for jongho’s approval. it almost makes you want to laugh, calling him out for being the good little slut that he is.

the moment you’re untied, you’re not sure you’ll be able to stop yourself from doing exactly that.

you watch carefully as more and more of mingi’s pelvis is revealed. his hands move at an agonisingly slow pace as they tug his sweats free of his hips and you honestly can’t tell whether he’s being a tease or a prude. both look pretty on him, the smirk he wears for one a beautiful contrast to the blush he wears for the other. he wears neither now, though and you hate the fact that you can’t tell exactly what mood he’s in. what you do know, however, is that right at this moment, he’s just a conduit for jongho’s sadistic mind.

and when his cock finally does spring free, heavy and red and leaking precum like a faucet, it’s then that the regret for your disobedience finally begins to sink in. such a pretty cock, practically made to be creamed on; designed by the gods themselves for the sole purpose of making you cum. you want it so bad, in any way he’ll give it to you, but with jongho standing over his shoulder, you know your desires are nothing more than a dream.

“touch it, mingi,” he orders, smirking wide as the expression on your face falls to one of despair, “show the little brat what they miss out on when they act out.”

[oneweirdbookaddict]

Alright, @undertheopensky

This one’s all for you 😂

Your long awaited sequel to this fic!

Hope you enjoy!

4849 words, slight warnings for one (1) instance of assault, and ngl its angsty and doesn’t really have a happy ending? But it’s not a bad ending either.

Summary: Four hates towns. Or, well… Four hates his town. The one he protected with his blood, sweat, and tears. Sky asks the right questions.

~~~~

It had been a long couple of days when they arrive in Four’s era.

Right outside the smithy’s house, Four scrambling right through the door and tumbling in. “Papa!” The kid shouts, and they take a minute to glance at each other before following him inside.

Finally met the smithy’s grandfather, got settled in, got to rest for an afternoon, and a home cooked meal.

Now they’ve been tasked with trying to get Four to take them around town for a bit so they can get needed supplies.

And they’re rather unsuccessful.

The kid beams up at him unapologetically. “Sorry, Sky. I can’t. I have chores to do.”

“Four-” Time sighs, but there’s no getting the kid to come. Four’s sweeping out the floor of the forge, eyes sparkling, just happy to be home.

“I’ll find you a map if you give me a minute.” Four hums, turning away.

Time sighs, staring at the back of Four’s head.

Sure enough, Four finishes sweeping and leads them to a small office with a strong looking desk and lots of shelves and drawers.

The kid rustles around in one of the drawers for a moment, pulling out a sheet of parchment and studying it for a moment before offering it to them.

“I can’t read this.” Time reminds him, and Four hums again.

“Don’t need to. Red circle is the apothecary, the center of the town is the market. You’ll find anything there- and it’s just a straight shot past the gates.”

“If it’s so easy-”

“I have chores to do.” Four repeats with a poorly hidden grin, already leaving the room.

“Should we find an inn or are we able to stay here?” He asks, and that gets Four to pause for a minute.

“We have room on the floors. Definitely not enough beds- it might be best for you guys to find the inn and sleep in some beds for a night or two. I dunno. Think about it.” Four shrugs, and then he’s gone.

Time sighs yet again, rolling his eye.

“Time, let him be with his grandpa again.” He says quietly.

“It’s not that.” Time says.” “He knows the town, he knows it well. He can take one hour to make sure we find everything we need. We need potions and medical supplies, we need to restock on rations and food. If we don’t find those-”

He smiles gently at the old man.

“We have more pressing things-”

“Time.” He pushes, slightly less gently. “He’s a child.”

All the fight deflates out of the old man at the reminder.

Seems to remember this, looking away.

“You’re right. I’ve… I’ve been too harsh on him.”

He shrugs, accepting the map from Time. “Let’s get this done- he made it sound like an easy trip. We can be back before supper.”

“Sounds good.” Time agrees, and they leave the room to gather up the others to make the trip to the little town.

~~~~

It's an easy, quick trip to town, and they find Four making supper with his grandfather upon their return.

“Supper should be ready in about fifteen minutes.” Four smiles at them, a little smudge of some sort of seasoning on his cheek.

So they get all their supplies packed up and put away, and enjoy their meal.

He sits next to Four, managing to be lucky enough to sit at the table, meaningless chatter filling the house.

It’s the evening when they really speak again, Time sighing and relenting as he, Twi, and Wars ask to spend some time at a tavern.

“Four, we’re going to find the pub, will you come get us before you settle for the night?” The old man asks.

Four’s expression remains the same for a long second, giving absolutely no indication that he heard Time, then nods. “Yeah. The only one is on the side of town- once you enter go to the right as much as you can and then up towards the castle. Can’t miss it. I’ll get you guys around… eleven and a half bells?”

“Sounds good. Thanks, kiddo.”

“Not a kid.” Four hums, and he has to smile.

“It’s what your grandfather calls you.”

“Yes. My grandfather is sixty two- everyone is a kid to him. He’s called grown adults kiddo.”

He laughs at that, and Four’s eyes flick to him.

“Be safe.” Four says softly, oddly… serious in his warning.

“It’s just a town. Little town,” he says, confused. And it is- a small, peaceful little town. Rather reminds him of Skyloft, actually.

“What’s the worst that can happen?”

Four shrugs, already turning away. “There’s a festival or something coming up soon. Just… it may be busy, people may be territorial. They’re not all so open to outsiders.

“They seemed fine when we went to the market.” Wars frowns, though Four merely shrugs before vanishing into a room.

They take a minute to shrug at each other before heading out the door.

~~~~

It was Twi’s idea to… mess around a bit and try to dig up some information on Four.

He definitely didn’t mean for… all this.

But the situation had spiraled well out of their control, and he’s a little too tipsy to defuse it.

So he clutches his sailcloth in his fist to avoid punching someone.

“Oh… he’s… crazy.” One woman sighs softly. “He… he didn’t come back quite the same. A shame, he was such a good boy.”

The bartender glances up, eyes narrowing. “That’s a rather kind way of saying he had a screaming match with himself in the middle of my shop.”

They all freeze. This has gone way too far, they need to end this, this-

“Oh, your anger towards him is unjustified, Mr. Elson. He’s a boy- he’s a boy, and he’s alone and traumatized. He was so young… how is he supposed-”

“Are you kidding me?” The man laughs incredulously. “The kid is absolutely insane. Didn’t come back right in the head. Being twelve at the time don't change that.”

Rage flies through him, and he forces himself to take a deep breath. Time’s eyes narrow dangerously. Wars looks ready to go full war captain mode.

Seemingly oblivious to their reactions, the man continues.

“I mean, sure. I get it. The poor kid is traumatized. But isn’t that his responsibility? He doesn’t need to come around town and make it the rest of our problem.”

Time’s hands shake with rage, and he feels the blood pounding in his ears. War’s hands clench into fists, but it doesn’t hide their shaking at all.

“It’s been almost three years? I think the kid’s almost sixteen. Used to hang around with the princess, was around her age. He should just be better by now.”

“Guys. Let’s go.” A voice says quietly. The last voice they want to hear right now.

The three men turn around tensely and freeze when they see the smith himself standing behind them.

“You’re not welcome here.” The bartender says, and he whips around, barely leashing his anger when Time places a hand on his shoulder.

“Yes, Mr. Elson, I apologize. I’ll be leaving shortly.”

“You’ll be leaving now or I’ll contact the authorities.”

“Yes, sir.” Four says softly.

“Yes, sir.” The man mocks. “Get out of here, you freak. If I catch you around here again-”

They leave the man still angrily ranting about what exactly he’ll do if she catches Four around here again, exiting the shop. The words ‘crazy lunatic’ are heard before the door slams behind them.

“Four-” Time starts quietly, but the smith shakes his head, cutting him off.

“Don’t.” Four’s eyes are trained on the ground, ignoring the glares and whispers thrown his way. “Just… don’t.”

“Four…” He says softly, trailing off when Four stops.

Four looks up for a second, meeting his eyes. Something passes between them- he’s not quite sure what- and then Four looks down at the ground again.

Leads them around a block before pausing. It’s busy for so late at night, he notices finally, glancing down at Four. He had mentioned a festival or something.

The kid gulps visibly, expression flickering into an anxiousness he doesn’t understand.

But slowly steps forward, taking a deep breath.

He and Wars share a glance but follow.

People stare and fall silent as they pass, eyes lingering on Four.

Expressions from anger to curiosity to distrust on their faces. One man looks at Four with such hatred he pauses.

"Move.” Four mumbles to him, and he forces his feet to obey.

But the man stops them, stepping into their path and forcing Four to stop.

“You’re not welcome here.” The man says firmly, crossing his arms.

Four doesn’t even look up from the ground. “I’m just passing through.”

“You’re going to take another way. You’re not welcome here.”

Four chews his lip, finally looking up.

“Going around takes an hour, please just this one time-”

“Don’t make me call the guards, freak. Get out of here.”

“Please- one time, just one time, you can watch me all the way through-”

Quicker than he or even Wars can react, the man lashes out and strikes Four across the face.

Four stumbles back, clutching his face, ignoring or not hearing their yelps.

“I said get out of here. We want nothing to do with you. Now scram.”

Four turns without another word and starts back down the path. He glares at the man for a long moment until Wars gently taps his arm- their signal to keep going.

The ranch hand refuses.

“You have no right.” Twi scowls, and the man looks to the rancher. “He sacrificed everything for you.”

“Twi.” Wars mutters under his breath.

The man laughs. Loudly. “It would’ve been better if he’d never stuck his nose in that shady shit to begin with- and then came back all jumbled, talking to himself and having screaming matches with nobody in the middle of the road. You keep that freak away from me, you hear me?! He’s a freak!” The man yells the last part at Four’s retreating back.

Four’s shoulders hunch down, the kid shrinking into himself.

Twi grabs the man by his tunic, shaking the man rather ungently. “He sacrificed everything for you! You don’t even understand what he’s been through!”

“Twilight.” Wars says softly, seriously, grabbing his arm.

The rancher shoves the man away, sending him to the ground. “A freak?! That’s a child you’re assaulting!”

Twi glowers down at the now cowering man, disgust on his face. “You’re not even with his time.” The rancher mutters, turning his back and finally letting Wars drag him down to where Four’s waiting down the street.

Not quite meeting their eyes, cheek pink where he’d been hit.

“You shouldn’t have done that.” Four mumbles, taking the turn to leave town.

“Four-”

“They’ll know you’re with me. You guys won’t be able to come back- they won’t want you here either.”

Silence.

Four leads them all the way around- for such a little town it sure does take a lot of time to get around- back to the forge.

Inside the front door, down the hall to his room, vanishing from sight.

~~~~

There’s a long silence where everyone stares up at where the smith had disappeared, then Time shakes his head.

“Leave him be.”

It’s a quiet night, the others taking in their tenseness.

Twi hesitates, looking down the hall where Four had vanished, fidgeting-

“Twi. Leave it.”

“I didn’t mean to-”

“I know. Just leave him be.” Time says gently.

“But-” the rancher cuts off, sighing slowly.

“Is he ok?” Wind mumbles groggily, having been woken up as they came in.

“Yeah.” Wars says gently, making his way over to the sailor. “Go back to sleep, you could stand to grow a little more.”

The sailor squawks in protest, but the captain only snickers and affectionately ruffles Wind’s hair.

Gets his bedroll set up next to the sailor’s, settling down. Time and Twi slowly do the same, Twi’s gaze still lingering down the hall.

“I’ll go check-”

“Twi.” He interrupts gently. “He doesn’t want to talk to us. Try it in the morning.”

Another long sigh, but the rancher finally settles.

He stretches out himself, missing the bit of warmth Four usually provided during the night.

~~~~

He wakes up early- very early, the rest are still sleeping and the moon hasn’t even set yet.

He’s suspecting around two chimes, but he can’t tell for sure. Time feels different in Four’s era- it has a strong flow.

Or maybe the surface is making him crazy.

He stands, though, stretching softly and goes in search of the smith. Down the hall, rubbing his eyes.

The room Four had shown him and labeled it ‘his’ is empty when he glances into it.

So he wanders down the hall into the other room, peeking carefully into the room-

Four’s slumped next to a table, surrounded by books.

The room is packed with book after book- on shelves that line the room.

It is a small room- the size of a large closet, really- but it’s still an impressive amount of books.

A small table is shoved into the corner, two cushions on the available sides.

That’s where Four is, curled up on one of the cushions, a blanket over him, book still open in his hands.

He slowly walks the rest of the way inside, stepping carefully over books on the floor to get to his friend and sitting next to him.

Carefully takes the book in his hands, putting a folded slip of parchment in it to mark the page, closing it and setting it aside.

Slowly, carefully, taking hold of the teenager and getting him carefully into his arms-

Four shifts and mumbles sleepily, nestling closer to him with a soft noise of contentment.

“Shh… I’ve got you, kiddo.” He whispers.

Four’s eyes flutter, but don’t open.

He carefully carries the smith back down the hall, tucking him gently into the bed in the corner, the teenager mumbling again and curling into the soft bed.

“Better than that little cushion on the floor, yeah?” He whispers, getting the blankets around the kiddo.

Four’s hand slowly grabs at the blanket, other one finding his hand and clinging to it.

“Shh…” he hums softly, trying to ease Four’s hand off of him… Four’s eyes flutter open, and he freezes.

“Stay with me.” The smith murmurs groggily, slowly releasing the grip on his hand when he nods in shock.

Four manages to scoot to the side of the bed so he can lay next to him, the smithy curling right back into his arms when gets settled.

“G’night, Sky.” Four mumbles drowsily, and he has to smile.

“Sleep well, buddy.”

~~~~

He sits in his bed, gazing out the window thoughtlessly. Sky snores softly next to him. 

Watches the sun slowly rise, the light peek through the window in beautiful shades of gold, pink, and orange. 

Trying not to think back to the weeks after his adventure, but… after a day like yesterday how could he not?

“It’s going to be ok.” Zelda had said softly once, his first time seeing her after everything. “But it’s going to be different.” 

If only she knew how right she was. 

“Four?” 

Sky. 

He glances down, forcing a little smile. 

“Hey, Sky.” He manages, the knight rubbing his eyes and flopping so he’s on his back. 

He’s reminded heavily of a golden retriever asking for belly rubs, and has to resist the urge to smile. 

Silence. Sky looks nervously at him, matching his smile with one that’s equally as fake. 

“You can ask.” He says finally, laying back again to curl into Sky’s warmth. “I… I owe you an explanation.” 

Sky finally does. 

“This is why? Why you hate towns? Why you prefer to stay at the inn, or do research, or… anything other than the market.” 

He nods into Sky’s steady heartbeat. 

I don’t understand, Sky would say, shaking his head as left for the market, leaving him at the inn at his insistence and sometimes begging. 

I don't expect you to. All I ask is that you respect it, he’d shoot back rather sharply. Uncharacteristically sharply. He’d ignore the other’s surprised looks, and they wouldn’t press the issue further. 

He stares out the window some more, then sighs slowly. So much for fighting off the bad memories. 

“After I came back from my… after… after I returned the sword to the palace, something… it changed me. The magic I used had… consequences.” 

He curls into a ball, turning to look at the wall. 

Keeping Sky out of his gaze. 

“I came back weird. Jumbled. I… I…” 

He lets out a broken laugh. “I was crazy. Maybe I still am. I don’t know anymore, Sky.” He whispers. 

Four bodies fuse back into one, but… four minds clash and fight in that one body. 

For a moment, Link is fine. 

And then he’s on the ground, clutching his head, screaming. 

Cursing, sobbing, giggling, yelling in pain, fear, anger, embarrassment, any emotion he can think of flashing through him in waves and waves. 

Zelda ends up running to get his grandfather, bawling uncontrollably herself. 

She’s terrified out of her mind, understandably. 

Papa carries him home- he can’t walk. He can’t speak. He can’t form a coherent, clear thought. 

He can’t do anything for a week. 

Can’t sleep, can’t eat, can’t think, just lays in bed and stares at the ceiling, his mind quite literally at war with itself. 

Sometimes he manages to scream when the pain gets too bad. 

Papa sits next to him the entire time, holding him close when he manages to cry, scream, anything. 

Tries to coax some soup into him so he can eat, but…

He can barely swallow. He can't function in the slightest. 

After that week he… can somewhat do the very basics again. Sleep, manage some food, drink water… 

He slowly gets back around to talking- which he immediately stops doing again. 

It’s garbled, stuttered, staccato sentences that make no sense, barely stringing two words together before changing topics completely, and it hurts. 

It hurts real bad. 

The ache behind his eyes the first time he tried… 

“Papa!” He’d screamed, the first comprehensible thing he’d probably said in a month, then spent the rest of the day screaming and sobbing into his papa’s chest. 

He stops trying to speak. 

Moving is difficult and often painful- his movements are jerky, uncoordinated, and slow. 

As if four bodies are fighting for the ‘correct’ way to move. 

After a while, he gives up on moving, too. 

He spends as much of his time as possible sleeping.  

It’s the only way to escape the constant pain, the horrible loudness in his head. 

He… becomes a bitch. 

To his grandpa, to Zelda… to anyone who encourages him. 

Just starts ignoring everyone, doing everything and anything in his power to fight whenever someone tries to force him. 

Spits, scratches, screams, one time he manages a well placed knee into his father’s groin. He’s still pretty proud of that one. 

That attitude, however, changes with a visit from the minish. 

He wakes up one night to little footsteps on his chest, and he finds himself covered in minish. 

On his stomach, his chest, his arms and legs, a few curled up in his hair, chittering happily to see him awake. 

His mind is still too jumbled to understand them fully, but their love and encouragement seeps through to him. Their kindness and affection touching him, making him feel… remarkably less lonely. 

He hadn’t even realized how lonely he’d been- Papa is, as always, moving around and doing work, Dot is doing her princess duties, Father… well, was never around anyway… 

And even though Papa spends as much time with him as possible it’s different now. 

He can’t do the things he could do anymore- he can’t talk. Walk. Anything. 

He’s stuck just… laying there. 

His good arm slowly reaches to gently stroke a dozing minish on his chest, and he realizes he has to get better. 

For Papa, for Dot, maybe for Father, but… most importantly, for himself. 

So when Papa walks into his room the next morning, he gathers everything inside of him and sits up. 

“M- Morning.” 

He’s seen Papa cry one time in his lifetime- when Mama died. 

But now, Papa holds him and cries for a while. 

“I love you, kiddo, I love you so much.” Papa manages, wiping his eyes carefully. “Let’s get you some breakfast. Let’s get you to the table?” 

And with Papa’s support, a stupidly long time, and several instances of nearly eating the floor, they do manage to get to the table from his room. 

Though after that, Papa makes him a wheelchair. 

Walking is still too much- his legs don’t move right, barely support his weight, and wobble whenever he stands. But wheeling himself around… well, it works. 

Not quite easier. Not quite… better. But it works for him. 

He- for the first time in months- can get around by himself. 

Around the house, around the forge, even outside. 

Never to the town- but to the woods nearby, down the trail, just able to spend time outside. 

When he makes the decision he wants to walk again, Papa reaches out to a man from a whole different town to come and see him. 

They spend a week together, the man assessing his movement, what he's able to do, what he’s not able to do, how well he can move different parts of his body, and so on. 

By the second day he has what the man calls a mobility support, that straps onto his arms and has a big, sturdy stick that leans on the ground. 

His movements are still jerky, odd, and unnaturally slow. But he’s walking. He’s walking. 

The man teaches him exercises, stretches, and different techniques for him to do until he’s completely able to walk again. 

The man is completely certain he’ll be able to. 

It takes a lot of work, a lot of pain, a lot of nasty spills, one broken wrist, and another couple months for him to be able to walk without the supports. 

And though his physical strength is returning, or… on the mend, as Papa liked to say, he still struggles with the mental aspects of it. 

The voices. 

His grandfather finds him zoned out all the time- in between bites of food, walking down the hall, reading a book, just standing there with a blank gaze, staring at nothing, lips moving slowly. 

Talking to himself- he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it until Papa asks him what he’s talking about. 

His speech is still… stuttered, so he doesn’t do it a whole lot. 

But he can’t. Stop. Talking. To himself. 

Voices in his head all the time- not nearly as loud as when he first put the sword back, but still ever present. 

Telling him what to do, telling each other what to do, arguing with each other, arguing with him, arguing with Papa, conversing with each other, conversing with him, ever present, ever noisy. Driving him crazy. 

He cries one night, unable to sleep, the voices screaming at each other. 

It hurts. 

“Stop it!” He begs, Papa talking softly, helplessly, trying to calm him. “Make them stop, Papa!” 

Papa, of course, can’t do anything for him. 

He screams until he passes out. 

Several times the man who’d helped him walk had to go get Papa because he’d lose focus, start mumbling to himself, and… would stare off at nothing. For hours. 

Sometimes Papa’s able to coax him back to reality, but often times he isn’t. 

He often finds himself… ‘waking up’ to a throbbing headache, his throat burning, sitting on the floor, holding Papa’s hand. 

“Hey, Kiddo.” Papa always said softly, and then held him close while he slept off the nasty headaches. 

Oh… and the headaches. 

Always there, lingering in his head, waiting to stab. 

Sending him to bed for days, nauseating and he can’t tolerate any light or sound or movement. 

“Migraines.” Papa explains softly, massaging his temples as he fights the urge to sob. 

“Hurts.” He manages, knowing it’s only gonna hurt worse if he cries but unable to stop the tears. 

That’s about the time people start asking about him. 

It’s been months- they knew he was hurt, they knew… he wasn’t quite right anymore, but… they expected him to get better. 

He’s not getting better. 

Some days… some days are good days. 

But some are like he had just put that sword back and he can’t think he can’t talk he can’t walk he can only lay there and scream. 

“Want to come to town with me, Kiddo?” Papa asks one day, on one of his good days. 

He considers, blinking at his grandfather. 

“People have been asking ‘bout you. I think it’d do you some good to get out and see some people.” Papa offers gently. 

He considers further, then slowly nods. Carefully moves to get his mobility aids- walking for a while still aches and makes him wobbly- pulling his hair back into a little ponytail. 

And he slowly follows Papa to town for the first time in… five and a half months. 

That’s the first time people really stare. 

He’s winded by the simple walk to town from the forge, he looks ill- he’s pale and trembling. Papa keeps a gentle grip on his arm, steadying him when he falters at the staring. 

“Let them stare, Kiddo.” Papa murmurs, and they keep going. “Just make it worth their time.” 

He hates it. He despises it- the pitying looks, the sympathetic glances at his grandfather, the softness of their voices when anyone actually talks to him. 

Mostly, they talk to grandpa and just stare at him. 

“How’s he doing these days?” The shopkeeper asks softly to Papa, literally staring right at him. 

“Good.” He answers bluntly. Shortly. 

Papa chokes, but not before he catches the proud smile on his grandfather’s face. 

The shopkeeper flushes bright red and doesn’t talk again. 

It’s the same with all of them- no one has the guts to talk to him. Only about him. As if he’s not in front of them, too. 

“I’m sorry your boy is a crip, now.” The mill owner says softly, staring at his crutches. 

He resists the urge to whack the man over the head with one, though it’s difficult. 

Papa ushers him out of the shop without replying. 

“Does his father know?” The bar owner whispers loudly to Papa as they talk for a moment. 

He’s sitting at a table, reminding himself how to breathe. He’s pushed himself too hard. 

In… smoothly… out… out… out- 

“Papa.” He says calmly, and the man flinches and whips to stare at him. 

Papa rushes over to him, hand on his forehead in a flash, asking what’s wrong, what can he do? 

“Home.” He whimpers, struggling to get air in, he can’t remember how, all the voices are screaming loudly at him trying to get him to breathe just breathe in he can’t remember he can’t remember- 

His hands rip the straps of his crutches off, slamming his hands over his ears, sinking into Papa’s hug and letting himself be pulled slowly to the floor. 

He’s choking air down in frantic gasps, hands grasping desperately at Papa’s tunic. 

“Home!” He bawls, and Papa’s much to shocked to say anything- 

Pull yourself together and calm down! We- 

We’re not a we! 

He! He is a him! 

We’re not going home! It’s nice to be outside around people and the sun- 

This sucks! This sucks! Everyone’s staring and no one will talk to us- 

Me! 

Us! 

Me! 

Us! 

Stop freakin stuttering and spit down words back out then! Talk to them first! 

Don’t you even go there- that’s terrible. We can’t- 

He! 

He can’t control that! It’s a stutter! 

It’s a weakness. 

Don’t be a jack-

Knock it off! 

It hurts! 

Stop it! Stop yelling! 

Guys we’re hurting Link. 

I want to go home! 

Well I want to stay out! It’s the first time being out of the house in nearly half a year! 

“Link, son, breathe- slow down for me, kiddo.” 

He crawls into his grandfather’s arms and screams until he passes out. 

Wakes up later with the worst migraine he’s ever had to date- leaving him bedridden for a week. 

He doesn’t realize until later- much, much later- that he’d screamed all of that, out loud, with half the town watching. 

By time he realizes… it’s months later, the town… has spread rumors out of control about him and his little breakdown, and they no longer want anything to do with him. 

He doesn’t tell Sky any of this, of course. 

“You’re not crazy, Four.” Sky says gently, sitting on the edge of the bed next to him. 

“Even you guys think it.” He says flatly. He’s noticed the lingering glances when he slips and mumbles to himself, the staring when he jolts back from staring off into space, the way he can’t quite control his movements on his bad days. 

He’s gotten himself injured in a fight more than once because he couldn’t get his arm to move, or his feet to move quick enough. 

“No- no, Four - we don’t. We just worry.” 

“Yeah.” He mutters instead of arguing about it. 

Silence. 

“Has it gotten… I mean… the bartender mentioned it’s been two years…” 

Slowly turning on his back, he looks up at the Skyloftian, sighing. 

“It was different. I knew it was going to be after… after everything. But it didn’t make it any easier.” 

~~~~

[piratefalls]

another long list, except it's a day early because this is how i give thanks.

list one. list two. list three. list four. list five.

No Sense or Sensibility by inexplicablymine

“When and where was your first kiss.” Oh shit. The thing is… Alex actually has an answer to this one, it’s just a matter of admitting that it happened. ____________________ Kennedy’s. 7pm, Pub Quiz and Ice Cream. Every Monday ‘til death due us part. Alex liked his little routine, until Derryl got it in his head to host The goddamn Newlywed Game instead.

I'm Rememberin' I Promised (to Forget you Now) by Angelwithwingsoffire

It's been six years since Alex Claremont-Diaz graduated law school. And he's made a good life for himself, working with a firm he enjoys and making a difference in the world. Until a part of his past he'd thought he'd gotten over seven years ago walked back into his office asking for his help. To get a divorce. Which Alex has never done before. But he's never been able to say no, and he's willing to put his heart back under the bus for the chance at one more smile.

Rogue's Gallery by OrchidScript

Loathe as Alex was to admit it, Henry Fox was going to be a legend someday. He already was in the bureau depending on who was answering. Tied to art theft, jewel theft, one or two little sweet confidence schemes, and an alleged counterfeit Super Bowl ring, but caught on three counts of art forgery, the blond Brit had run circles around the Art Crimes division for six years. He was quick, smarter than the average bear, and more detail-oriented than a nuclear chemist. He had a penchant for nice suits, silk ties, and gin tonics with lime. He wrote letters to agents in taunting poetry, tucking them under windshield wipers or posting them to the office directly. Once, he managed to drop one directly into the pocket of a plainclothes officer without them seeing his face. _____________________ Henry Fox is a famous art forger, and Alex is the FBI agent who caught him three years ago. When one of Henry's aliases comes up attached to a new case, can the two put aside their cat-and-mouse past to put the copycat away?

Queer little ducks hold a special place in my heart. by anarchyat4am

Henry’s at a local Hispanic Heritage Month event browsing the art stalls when his gaze catches on a kid looking around with both purpose and nervousness. She’s fidgeting with the hem of her t-shirt with one hand while she bites the nails of the other one, eyes alert and searching. Lost, then. And oh, Henry recognises her. She’s a regular at his bookstore, even at only six years old, and is there at least weekly with her dad—Alex, who she’d introduced to Henry as her papi—or various aunties and uncles, most of whom Henry doesn’t think are actually related to her. Keeping one eye on her, he lets his gaze sweep the vicinity but doesn’t see anyone else he even remotely recognises. Shit. He has to do something. “Sirena?” he calls gently. * Henry... is more than a bit useless around hot guys. So when he finds the lost kid of the gorgeous dad who frequents his bookstore, he pulls himself together until they reunite, only to then be devastated by the revelation that the man thinks Henry hates him. And, well... courage always rises, and all that.

just say you won't let go by viciouslyqueer

After dancing around each other for months, Alex and Henry finally get together. The morning after comes with a slight misunderstanding and comforting words.

We were supposed to find this by kiwiana

Still, half an hour after shaking Prince Henry’s hand for the first time, he finds himself back in his hotel room with one shoe and sock hurriedly tugged off and his right foot resting on his left knee. Just to check. Just in case Alex is somehow, by some miracle, about to become the first documented case of Surprise! You Can Totally Have A Different Soulmate, We Fucked Up And Your One Kind Of Sucks. No such luck. The words are the same as they’ve always been, etched into his skin in a careful, calligraphic font. The kind of handwriting someone might have if, for example, they came from the sort of family that valued tradition and etiquette far higher than letting their children write like normal human beings.

Sit. Down. Please Stay. by politics_and_prose

Alex adopts a dog he found abandoned on the side of the road. She's nervous and he wants to make sure he knows how to give her the best life possible. Enter Henry Fox and his beagle David.

muscle memory by stutteringpeach

It's been ten years since Alex was in London to stage a PR friendship with Henry after ruining the royal wedding. It's also been ten years since Alex dropped to his knees in front of Henry in a Kensington Palace kitchen. But now Henry's in the Hamptons for the summer, and who should he bump into? None other than Alex Claremont-Diaz, who happens to be working in New York all summer long.

The Perils of Midsomer Residency by clottedcreamfudge

"I'm sure I don't need to tell you that care should be taken, given the Mountchristens' local influence?" Liam nods. "Sir." Luna then turns to Alex. "Do not piss anyone in that family off." Alex throws his hands in the air. "So many aspersions have been cast on my good character this morning that I could start a fucking farm. An aspersions farm." Luna narrows his eyes. "Correction," he says, "have another coffee and then do not piss anyone in that family off. Don't make me regret fast-tracking you through the ICI Development Programme." * After getting shot in the line of duty back in Texas, June forces Alex into a change of scenery. Because how much can really be going on in the quaint little English county of Midsomer?

something that feels like forever by dearestalez

“You’re crying,” she pointed out. Alex choked on a laugh, wiping his eyes. “I’m just-” he sniffed, holding her so delicately Henry felt herself melt into the touch. “I’m so happy for you, baby.” — alex and henry are so in love it makes me want to rip out my heart and stomp on it but slash pos

behind brick walls by weather_stained

After Henry and Alex move in together, it takes quite a while for them to fully adjust to their newfound freedom. Alex very much enjoys watching Henry grow more comfortable in his own skin after a lifetime of looking over his shoulder.

It's a (Birth)date by Celaestis

5 times Henry is oblivious that they're dating and 1 time he isn't.

Save a Horse, Ride a Princess by affectionatelyrs

“I have to say, this is all quite literal, don’t you think?” Alex wouldn’t know literal right now if it hit him in the head. “Huh?” Henry points at Alex: “Pillow Princess,” and then to himself: “Cowboy. Ready to ride and all that.” Alex nods dumbly. “Right.” - Or, Alex and Henry dress up as the ultimate couples costume for Halloween — themselves — and they both feel some kind of way about it

baby boy by smc_27

It starts as a joke. Alex taking the piss about how much money Henry has. How he could have anything he wanted, from anyone he wanted, if only he just asked.

My Songs Know Secrets You're Sick of Keeping by ma_lark_ey, paythe_piper

"How about this," Alex offered, "If I win AOTY, I announce Henry and I in my acceptance speech. If I don't, we do it your way." OR: Alex is a world famous pop punk star, Henry is still the Prince of England, and the public is onto them.

Au Naturel by cmere

The French doors leading to the office are thrown open, so he has a moment to take in the scene in front of him: Alex, lying on his stomach on the floor, feet kicked up and crossed at the ankle, surrounded by books, papers, and two open laptops. None of that, however, catches Henry's attention as much as Alex's hair, secured in a small, messy knot on top of his head with nothing but a single wooden chopstick. Henry blinks rapidly several times. "Alex," Henry says, somehow hoarse. Alex's head whirls around. There's a single, perfectly curled tendril over the apple of his cheek; his scruff has hit the mystical, magical point where it's more soft beard than prickly shadow; his reading glasses sit atop his adorable nose; and Henry realizes with sudden gravity that he's not entirely in control of his physical responses anymore—something has to give. Alex hasn't really been bothering with some of his usual upkeep, and Henry is kind of extremely into it.

You deserve my love by whateveridk

“I’ll leave as soon as you tell me to." Henry had turned towards him, stealing himself, sticking his chin out, and said “leave.” Alex has been picking up the pieces ever since. Two years later, living with Nora and June in NYC, it still haunts him, but it's fine. Whatever, he is fine. And then... Breaking News: Prince Henry comes out as gay So it's not fine, Alex is not fine.

sex ed in 6 steps by coffeecatsme

“Please tell me you used a condom, Fox,” Alex drawls out, leaning against the wall, and Henry chokes on his next breath.“Excuse me?”“You’re gonna tell me all about this tomorrow, but for the love of God, tell me you used a condom and we won’t have mini Henrys on campus anytime soon.” Or, 5 times Alex thinks Henry's straight and 1 time he finds out the truth. Or, 5 times Alex jokes about Henry's sex life and 1 time he gets to be a part of it.

More Than A Makeover by everwitch

The Fab Five—Alex, June, Nora, Liam and Spencer—descend on a New York based shelter for disenfranchised queer youth to give the place a much needed makeover. As the week progresses, sparks start to fly between Alex, the culinary representative of the queertastic quintet, and Henry, the sweetly charming founder of the shelter. It’s a deeply emotional week full of unexpected realizations, and certainly a week that strengthens Henry’s friendship with Pez in ways that neither of them quite knew they needed. As the week comes to a close and the Queer Eye team say their goodbyes, it remains to be seen what will become of the warm connection between Alex and Henry. Will it last, or was it too much of a perfect miracle to ever grow into something real?

The Royal Wedding by DracoWillHearAboutThis

HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS PRINCE HENRY OF WALES AND MR ALEXANDER CLAREMONT-DIAZ ARE ENGAGED TO BE MARRIED HM Queen Mary is delighted to announce the engagement of Prince Henry to Mr. Alexander Claremont-Diaz. The wedding will take place in the Spring or Summer of 2025, in London. Further details about the wedding date will be announced in due course.  Prince Henry and Mr. Claremont-Diaz became engaged earlier this week during a private holiday in Paris. Prince Henry has informed The Queen and other close members of his family. Prince Henry has sought and received the blessings of Mr. Claremont-Diaz's parents.  The couple will live in Nottingham Cottage at Kensington Palace. 

A Toast to the Night by allmylovesatonce

Henry looks up from his drink and swears his jaw drops. Standing in front of him is one of the most beautiful men he’s ever seen. From his dark brown curls to the way his deep eyes gleam as he stands there, an awkward smile on his face. Henry is nearly sure this man is going to ask for his seat. He probably has some woman with him, scouring for a place to sit. “Uh, hi,” the man says. “Hi.” “Look, this is really awkward,” he says and Henry feels the confirmation in his gut — also maybe disappointment. “My ex-boyfriend just walked in and I really don’t want to talk to him. I was wondering if I could sit here with you so that he won’t talk to me.”

That's What You Get For Waking Up in Vegas by bleedingballroomfloor

The bartender slides Alex the whiskey and shot of water before turning her attention to the person behind him. He turns around at the same time as the person speaks, “Gin and tonic” in all rounded vowels, a distinct English accent shining through, and he swears his heart stops. “Holy shit,” Alex says before he can stop the words from slipping out of his mouth. “Henry?” When Alex is celebrating June and Nora's bachelorette party in Vegas, the last person he expects to see is his ex-boyfriend Henry, who moved back to London nearly a year ago. Waking up next to him the following morning, naked and sated with a marriage certificate poking out of his pocket, he starts to wonder if he's truly over Henry.

hang on 'til the chaos is through by ShyAudacity

David is lounging on his spot at the foot of the bed when Alex comes in. He opts not to turn on the light, not wanting to disturb Henry, but then quickly finds that the light is on in their bathroom. Henry must still be getting cleaned up before bed; Alex can say hello and check on Henry when he steps out. It’s weird that he’s still up. Henry was awake well before Alex was this morning and… come to think of it, Alex can’t remember him ever coming to bed last night. Alex has only made it through the top three buttons on his dress shirt when he hears a terrifying crash come from the bathroom. Clutching his chest, he steps towards their shared bathroom, afraid to see what’s on the other side. “Henry? …H, what was-.” Alex stops short in the doorway, startled to find the love of his life in a miserable heap on the bathroom floor.

Sad Again (Don't Tell My Boyfriend) by lucy_in_the_sky

After proposing to Alex, Henry writes a letter to his father reflecting on all the moments he’ll never get to share with him. AKA Alex comforts a mourning Henry and promises to be there for him, forever and always.

monster mash by matherine

None of Henry’s answers to “Who are you supposed to be?” are particularly funny to anyone but him, especially in his inebriated state, so he’s completely given up on making any sense when the latest person asks him, someone who he assumes is yet another sorority girl in a skimpy costume from the glimpse of a cheerleading skirt he gets while they brush past him to open the fridge. “George Villiers,” he offers. “Deep cut, England,” a decidedly male voice snorts, and Henry can’t help the way his head snaps up, eyes wide.

Take it Down Low / Make Me Get High by Mags (sparklepocalypse)

“Henry,” Alex rasps wonderingly, sounding almost entranced, “I want to eat your ass.” Henry’s train of thought screeches to a halt with such force that for a moment, he thinks he might’ve had a stroke.

how did a middle-class divorcé do it? by Time_Sequence

Not really concerned, Alex watched the typing bubble appear – disappear – appear again, like Henry couldn’t quite find the words to say what it was he was thinking. Most likely, he was trying to find the perfect sarcastic quip in response. What came through made him genuinely pause. HRH Prince Dickhead💩: You complete and utter moron Then, HRH Prince Dickhead💩: Royalty can’t marry divorcees If Alex had been having a good time before, he definitely wasn’t now. - When a joking interview reveals that Alex and Nora drunkenly married ten years ago, suddenly Alex's upcoming wedding to Prince Henry is jeopardised.

discreet packaging by demigodbeautiies

“Please, please, please explain to me,” Zahra says, finally, sounding more than a little bit long-suffering. “Why I had to have the head of the Secret Service sit me down and tell me to give you a talk about avoiding bomb scares with unidentifiable packaging.”

the world watched (and the world smiled) by fangirl6202

"Oh,” Alex says finally, faintly, touching one hand to his lips. Then: “Shit.”  His mind catches up then, realizing that Henry is walking away and he doesn't even think twice. He begins to quite literally chase after him, trying to get to him before he can get away or, God forbid, try to fly back to England and ghost him.   Henry is very pointedly not looking at him, stuttering apology over apology until Alex has to quite literally throw himself in front of him to get him to stop. Alex doesn’t know what to do. But the answer is simple, isn’t it? So fucking simple.   He takes Prince Fucking Charming’s lapels into his hand and kisses him back.  Or; it's New Years, and Henry stays.

Rabbit Hole by TuppingLiberty

Some sort of non-famous au, don't worry, there's not really a plot. Alex has been going down a research rabbit hole for hours and Henry comes to rescue him.

Let Loose Your Glow by athousandrooms

“Seems like my liege was caught in a situation where he’d rather the ground swallow him whole.” Pez nods towards a spot to the side, and Alex follows his gaze. He spots Henry easily – a tall lighthouse of tousled blond hair – talking to a girl who is clearly into him. His expression looks perfectly polite, but he’s subtly leaning away, and he looks tense. So, Alex makes an impulsive decision. Whatever happens, this is going to be fun. *** Or: Alex is so very definitely straight, so pretending to be Henry’s boyfriend to get him out of an awkward situation should just be a fun little pastime - except that he doesn't really want to stop, and he has no idea why. But maybe it's okay to not think too hard and let himself go with the flow, for once.

Things I Cannot Accept by SprigsofViolets

In 2016, Ellen Claremont lost the presidential election. In 2019, Alex Claremont-Diaz is not the first son of the United States, so he’s shocked when his path crosses with Prince Henry for the first time in almost four years.

How well you play...that's up to you by happinessofthepursuit

Treacherous (adjective) guilty of or involving betrayal or deception; (of ground, water, conditions, etc.) hazardous because of presenting hidden or unpredictable dangers. Or, how to describe surgical residency in a single word. A Grey's Anatomy inspired AU.

In Accord by absoluteaudacity

Pursuant to the establishment of an ongoing relationship between The Crown and the Office of the President of the United States, the representatives of the The Queen and Her interests are authorised to establish a contract of marriage between His Royal Highness Prince Henry of Wales and Alexander Claremont-Diaz.

A Heart Even More Your Own by chaa_kiao

“Guess you’ll be writing those poems after all.” He swallows. "I should go." Henry’s mind— every part of him, really— his heart, his body, his fucking soul— is screaming at him to take it all back. To hell with the monarchy, the American presidency, damn it all. This is the man he’s spent his entire life loving and he’s throwing it away for a legacy he doesn’t give a single fuck about. He forces out a rough “I think so,” but he can’t hear it over the ringing in his ears. “I love you.” “Alex—” “I know,” Alex says. “I just had to say it.” _______ Or: Alex and Henry getting back together takes a little bit longer this time.

you are my mountain (you are my sea) by alasse

Five times Alex and Henry have important conversations in houses, and one time they have a very important conversation in a castle.

Down For the Count by LolaLand (Lola_di_Penates)

Alex came to Las Vegas to count cards, not feelings. Henry came to win it all. Is it possible to find something real in Sin City, where nearly everything isn’t as it seems? OR Goodbye reality, hello Vegas (the blackjack/poker AU).

Let Them Eat Cake by rohruh

“I wanna eat you out,” Alex’s voice comes out raspy and intrepid through the phone pressed against Henry’s ear. Henry lets out a soft whine at the admission, his breath up-ticking in synchrony with his hips as he thrusts up into his hand. “I’d like that,” he tells Alex eagerly, cradling the phone in his palm as though he could materialize Alex right there in front of him if he presses it against his ear firmly enough. “I’ve never done it to a guy before,” Alex confesses. “Is it… different from eating out a girl? I bet you’d taste so good, baby. Fuck.”

A Thousand Words by Thunder_Cakes

After that Han/Leia mural both their accounts go silent for a while. For months, actually. They’re both in therapy after Alex tried to post a selfie with June after election night and had a panic attack before he could hit “Share.” Suddenly the thought of sharing the details of his life and loved ones with the world is paralyzing. Wonder why. or: Alex, Henry and what they choose to share of their life

All for a Taste of the Honey by chamel

“So you’re telling me you’re not in favor of this plan,” Henry says eventually. “No, I’m fucking not,” Alex huffs, glaring at him. “It’s stupid and dangerous and unnecessary.” Henry cocks one perfect eyebrow at him. “You have another idea for how to get access to the room where he does his deals? The one that only ever admits Vega, his associates, and the strippers who entertain them?” (Or, an FBI agent!Stripper!Henry fic. Henry goes undercover at a strip club, and Alex has a lot of feelings about that.)

in the mood for... by carzla

Henry knows that he’s the one who said “casual”, and it had been a reminder to himself that that was all it could ever be between him and Alex. So, telling Alex that they should “make love” is probably a mistake in syntax bigger than he could safely afford. But they’re in Paris and Henry is feeling terribly, terribly maudlin.

something good and right and real by HypnosTheory

“This is pretty expensive for a high school trinket.” “Everything is bigger in Texas,” Alex jokes. Henry looks up at Alex, who’s standing with his shoulders relaxed for the first time since October. The relief of his mother’s victory has made him loose-limbed and calm, his smile easy and lovely. Henry looks down at the crown in his hands and back at Alex. He imagines the gold half-buried in Alex’s hair, heavy on the man’s brow, decadent and royal. Henry swallows, face heating, and holds the crown out to Alex. “Put it on.” -- After the election, Henry explores Alex’s childhood room. He finds trinkets of a young Alex that intrigue him, including a crown that gives him some ideas.

In His Wildest Dreams by myheartalive

Once Alex has pulled out, Henry turns over to face him. He strokes the hair softly away from his face and Alex smiles at him. “So… that happened again.” Henry leans forward and kisses him on the forehead. “Indeed.” There’s a sort of thoughtful pause, where Henry can see Alex working to pull together the right words. “I’m not sure I’ve ever seen you that… thirsty?” “Oh, bugger off,” Henry says, but he’s laughing. It’s a fair description. “No, but I mean it. You were like… urgent. It was hot.” “It felt hot. I liked waking up like that. With you up against me, trying to have your way with me.” — Set in and around the Henry bonus chapter, this is a story about Henry and Alex’s hectic schedules, family appearances etc. pulling them apart, and about what starts to happen between them, in the quiet of night: their sleeping bodies turning to each other, finding their sweet spots and opening up. And Alex and Henry learning a lot about each other in the process — Mind the tags, y'all. That particular tag features prominently and it’s a major plot point, so if that’s not your jam, just hit the back button.

until next time!

[sweetly-yours-and-mine]

“you have a daughter?” with single dad! marc pls🥺🥺

Pairing: Marc Spector x f!Reader

Word Count: 2k (we're off to a strong start lol)

A/N: Just opened up my askbox for some requests!

Warnings: fluffy, a little angsty, marc is a bit of a nervous mess bless him

Marc, she’s come to find out, was the guy to take it slow. 

He took his time with her, bought her flowers and pretty necklaces with jewelled pendants that he gave her when he took her out to dinner. 

She’s never been charmed the way Marc has managed to charm her. 

He walks her to her door after taking her out, kisses her cheek and then asks if she’d like it if he kissed her on her mouth. 

The stories her grandmother told her of the dashing, charming men that wooed her off her feet when she was young finally start to ring true to her ears. 

She feels that maybe, after years of looking, she’s managed to find a real treasure worth holding on to. 

She feels that maybe all those ruined dates and talking phases and endless swipes on the dating apps were worth it, if it meant that one day Marc would stumble into her life like he always belonged there. She’d do it all over again, ten times over, to get to Marc. 

Marc, she’s come to find out, is worth close to anything she’s able to give, and he always asks so little from her in return for all he does, as if she was worth all that he gives her and more. 

He’s flurrying about his kitchen now, having banished her to the living room with a glass of wine and a quasi-demand to make herself at home, despite her insistence on helping. Dinner would be ready in just a couple of minutes, he said. He’d already set the table. 

Marc, she’s come to find out, was the guy who liked having things done his way. Found it easier to take on the load himself than to let others help. 

It’s the first time he’s invited her over to his place. The first time that he asked her to have a date night in, with soothing music and soft lights, just the two of them together. 

Marc, she’s come to find out, was an utter, sappy romantic at heart. 

She wonders if tonight will be the night he’ll take her to his bed, she wonders what the brown of his eyes will look like shrouded in desire and lust. 

Her cheek is still tingling from where he’d kissed her, the small of her back warm from the heat of his palm. His cologne lingers in the air. There’s an anticipatory ache in her thighs and she tries to distract herself from it.

Her eyes are wandering, not looking for anything specific except for him, but because she’s scared that would be too weird, she looks out the window. She’s soaking in the view of the London skyline, dingy and dark from the near consistent rain they’ve had all week. 

In Marc’s place, she barely feels a shred of the cold seep into her bones. There are only warm, yellow lights on, nothing too direct. She might as well be looking at a hyperrealistic painting. 

She goes to set her glass down when her eyes fall on the picture frames, hung up beside the window. The wood is stained a deep brown that reminds her of Marc’s eyes, as all brown things usually do. 

She hadn’t meant to pry, but now her curiosity has been stoked to life. The oven timer goes on and off, there’s a waft of something savoury as he opens and shuts the door. 

The girl is too similar to Marc to be able to pass it off as a niece or a coincidence. The same head of dark curls, matching noses and bushy, unkempt eyebrows. She’s sure this is what Marc would have looked like, when he was a child, had he been a girl. 

There’s a picture of her as an infant, still in the hospital and in a younger Marc’s arms, dark circles under his eyes and a nervous smile on his face. It’s the unmistakable traces of new fatherhood, she feels as if she’s seen thousands of pictures just like it, the same words, in different handwritings. 

First day of school, mile-wide grin, heavy, sombre eyes from her father that were jarring against his smile. The girl’s pulled tight into his frame, Marc seems to be holding on to her as if she were a shadow. 

Eyes flitting up and down, she takes in the rest of them. Days at the beach and nights at home. Milestones stacked on top of each other. Dance recitals, a small bouquet of roses clutched in her hands, held proudly in Marc’s arms. 

They even grinned the same way. 

Marc’s daughter was well-loved. 

Happiness like that could never be faked. 

She drifts back towards the kitchen. Marc’s curls, normally neat and tamed back are loose and carefree now. 

He tugs on them when he’s nervous. Gives them two or three harsh pulls before drifting down to rub at the skin of his neck, exhales a nervous breath. 

She’s underestimated the effect his presence can have on her. There are drawings on the fridge, drawings she hadn’t noticed, not until now. 

She feels as if her lack of attention should be justified. Marc is pretty. Pretty in a way that makes her breath hitch, her head somersault on itself. She’s always a little tongue-tied during the first few minutes of their dates. 

She knows now that it wasn’t just because of his little belly that tucked out comfortably when he sat down, or the crooked angles of his nose. Tenderness and patience radiates out from inside him, the kind people usually only get when raising children with love. 

The thud of his knife against the cutting board, slicing through lettuce and cucumbers is comforting. Though she’d made him promise not to go all out, not to bother himself too much for the dinner, Marc has done exactly that. 

“Hungry?” 

“Hm?” There’s a dog in one of the drawings, a cat in the other. 

“Just gotta finish the salad.” 

She knows that it’ll be fruitless to offer to take anything to the table. She wants to ask him if he’d like some wine and is instead surprised by the words that flow out of her mouth. “You have a daughter?” 

He freezes. A cucumber slides off his knife. It may have well been a scene out of a sitcom. She would have laughed, had it not been for the hold Marc already had on her heart. 

She keeps her gaze steady on him, watches intently as he sets down his knife and looks at her. 

There’s nothing she can tell from the expressions in his eyes, the hardened tilt of his mouth. She’s come to accept that it will take months before she’ll feel confident in reading the man in front of her, one who spoke so much with his body. 

If she gets to take months to learn his language. 

It’s an unpleasant little tumour of a thought. She swallows to apologise, to grab at whatever the string was that has managed to tie her tightly to Marc and make sure it stays there. 

His throat bobs up and down. Marc speaks before she gets the chance to, “Yeah, I have a daughter.” 

“What’s…” she wonders if it’s appropriate to ask, and the question dies on her lips. 

“Maya. She’s seven now.” 

Maya. She rolls the word around her head like a marble, tries to connect it to the photos and drawings hung up around the place. “She looks just like you.” 

He laughs, an awkward, fumbling thing. It’s like a flat ball. “We get that a lot.” 

“Well, it’s true,” she smiles and tentatively reaches for his hand. It’s a little rough, a little wet from the freshly-washed vegetables; she wonders if he would like it if she bought him some cream, something with glycerin. “And you’re both very beautiful.” 

He pauses, emotions fighting on his face until he settles for steering the topic away from him, “You really don’t mind?” 

“Why would I?” 

He shrugs, casts his eyes away from her. The pressure of his hand in hers fades ever so slightly and she stumbles forward to make sure it stays. 

“I don’t mind,” she swallows, rounds over the counter so she comes to stand beside him and looks up at him. “I really don’t. And I’d love to meet her, whenever you think it’s time.” 

There’s a familiar expression in his eyes, one that she’s able to figure just from the sheer amount of times he’s looked at her with it on. 

“I don’t lie about these things, Marc.” She leans up and kisses his cheek, squeezes his hand at the same time. “And I understand why you didn’t tell me sooner.” 

He pauses, mouth hardened into a firm little line, “You like kids?” 

She nods. There’s the footprint of her lips on his cheek, a faint brush of rusty pink that plants a little seed of possession inside of her. 

“Good.” His voice is gruff, serious like a boulder of sandstone. 

“Sorry for springing it on you like that, I saw the photos and-” 

He shakes his head, his free hand comes to rest on her waist. Water seeps into her clothes and onto her skin and she revels in the feeling of it, a physical trace of his touch on her. 

It amazes her how quickly he can quiet the static inside her mind. “I meant to tell you tonight.” He sighs, his breath rolling over her face, a stitch forming on his forehead. “Forgot about the pictures.” 

She presses away the stitch, smiles and delights when he smiles back, retracted and tight, the corners of his eyes wrinkling like well-loved and sunkissed linen. 

His phone starts to ring, turns their soft bubble into shattered ice. The grimace returns to his face, “Sorry.” 

The cadence of his voice is soft, soft in a way that’s never been directed at her, when he answers the call and goes into his room, “Hey baby…” It sounds like honey, syrupy and nutritious, she feels if she listens hard enough she can hear the gentle hum of bumblebees underneath. “I miss you too.” 

She’s finishing the salad when he returns, cutting the rest of the vegetables the way he’d started and hoping that she’d done a good enough job. 

His gaze falls back to her hands, “Sorry.” 

“Nothing to apologise for,” she slides everything off the cutting board and into the bowl, sets everything aside and comes close to him. “Is she alright?” 

“Yeah,” his fingers are tentative as they reach for her again. Her hands come on top of his and press down. A never ending cycle of reassurance. “She’s at my cousin’s. Told her to call before she goes to bed.” 

The thought that he has the place to himself tonight makes her stomach flip-flop on itself. 

She dares to cup his face between her hands. She’s never done it before and finds the feel of his clean-shaven skin addicting, “You’re a good father.” He stiffens in her arms but doesn’t move out of them. The picture of young Marc in the hospital with his daughter rises again in her mind, “Thank you for making me dinner.” 

He frowns, eyebrows furrowing together like two fuzzy caterpillars, “You haven’t fuckin’ eaten it yet.” 

It makes her laugh, and she lets him go, kisses him on his pouty mouth. The way he moves is like a butterfly coming out of its cocoon. 

He’s all business now, rushing about the kitchen to finish the food. Her eyes fall back to the drawings, flit over to the curly head of his hair, “Do you want some wine, Marc?”

Thanks for reading, if you liked it, please consider leaving some feedback! I don't usually respond to, but I obsess and re-read reblogs and comments constantly.

Masterlist here, requests here.

[therealcocoshady]

Recovery - Chapter 42

Author’s note : Here is chapter 42 ! I couldn’t wait to write & post this one ! I hope you guys enjoy it ❤️ As always, thank you to @shady-577 for agreeing to read this beforehand and giving me her opinion ❤️.

Synopsis : Simon reveals who leaked the track.

MARSHALL’S POV

- I know who leaked your track, Simon said. The one about Y/N.

Marshall had so many questions in mind that it took him a second to reply to Simon. How the hell did he know who leaked the track ? But most importantly : who did it ? Who almost ruined his relationship ? Whoever that person was, they would have to pay the consequences. He would make sure to harm them as much as they had harmed him, and the punishment would fit the crime. Whether it was through lawyers or himself, he would have justice.

- Who ? He almost barked. And how do you know ?

- It’s complicated, Simon explained. I want to meet up with you.

- Why the f- Just tell me who, he said. Give me their name.

- You might want to organize a meeting with your team. In fact, every single person working in the building. And have them bring their devices. I’ll explain.

- Ok, Marshall said in an annoyed voice. 7 AM tomorrow. I’ll have Y/N text you the address of the studio.

He ended the call and stared at Y/N, who was looking at him with a curious look, obviously wondering what that was all about.

- Why are you meeting up with him ? She asked anxiously.

- Apparently, he knows who leaked the song, he explained. I’m not sure how but, if he has proof and tells me who it is… I swear to God they are going to suffer. I won’t rest until they pay for what they’ve done.

- Well, Simon works in IT, Y/N explained. He’s a skilled hacker. He offered to look into the whole thing when I saw him.

- How kind of him, he commented sarcastically.

- Don’t you want to know ? She asked.

- I do, he assured her. But you can’t convince me he’s only interested in your friendship, Y/N. I’m not dumb. Anyway… whoever did that… I will end them. I swear they will pay.

She looked at him anxiously and nodded. She got under the covers and rested a head on his shoulder while he texted Tracy and Paul to ask them to plan the meeting with Simon.

The next day, he went to the studio with Y/N. Everyone who worked in the building was there, though one knew why they were all gathered here. It was rare for everyone to be in the same meeting. Most of the time, it was just himself, Tracy and Paul but, now, they were joined by all the sound engineers, studio personnels and other people working for the label, as well as Porter, Royce and Jamal. When Simon arrived, they coldly shook hands and he had to display a lot of calmness when Y/N greeted her ex with a quick hug.

- Why is everyone here ? Jamal asked. Why is Simon here ?

- I guess Simon can explain, Marshall said.

- I have managed to trace the leak of the song about Y/N, Simon said. I can formally said that the call came from inside the house. Which means someone in this room is responsible for the leak.

Marshall took a minute to stare into the eyes of everyone that was present. He already knew it wasn’t Porter, Royce or Jamal. Paul and Tracy had had to deal with the leak’s consequences, too, so there was no way they would be blamed. Other people, however, were on the suspect list. Motives were unclear, though.

- There’s almost twenty people here, Marshall said. When you said you-

- I’m getting there, Simon cut him. We can absolutely narrow it down. I have the IP address of the computer from which it was leaked. I also know it’s someone who has access to your personal Cloud, which, by the way, really lacks security��

He swallowed dryly and nervously. Only two people had access to his online storage, for work purposes : Paul and Tracy. It couldn’t be. He stared at Paul, who seemed as curious as he was. Not the look of someone who was guilty. Plus, he had worked with Paul for nearly twenty-five years and he was the one who’d had to deal with leaked consequences. There was no way his manager, longtime friend and collaborator could have betrayed him this way. He shot a look at Tracy, who looked sick. She gave him a helpless look. A guilty one. She had tears in her eyes. He could not believe it. Not her. He had trusted her with so much. And it didn’t make sense. She had been there for him after the leak, she had heard him complain about how badly it affected him. He kept on staring at her without blinking and she mouthed a silent « I’m sorry ». He closed his eyes and let out a loud sigh.

- Paul, Tracy, Office. Now, he ordered.

- I haven’t even given you the address, Simon began.

- Later, Marshall said curtly. Everyone stay here. Paul and Tracy come with me.

They followed him to his office and he slammed the door shut.

- You better be joking, he seethed.

- What’s wrong ? Paul asked. Marshall, what’s going on ?

- Tell me it’s not true, he asked Tracy as he ignored Paul. Tell me you didn’t do it.

- Didn’t do what ? Paul asked, losing his patience.

Neither he nor Tracy replied. He could see in her eyes that she was guilty and it was making him sick to his stomach. She had known him for two decades, she was one of his closest collaborators. She had her head down and she was clearly on the verge of tears.

- Guys ! Paul almost yelled.

- I’m sorry, Tracy mumbled. Marshall, I-

- You’re sorry ?! Marshall screamed. You’re fucking SORRY ?! You’ve got to be fucking kidding me ! You leaked the worst song I have ever made, you almost destroyed my relationship and my girlfriend reputation and you’re sorry ?! Jesus Christ, Tracy !

- It has to be a mistake, the manager said. Tracy would never… you didn’t, did you ?!

- Guys, I… I did, she said. But… Marshall, can I speak to you in private ?

- From now on, anything you have to say, you can say in front of Paul, he replied without looking at her.

- I did it for you, she said. Marshall, I know it sounds twisted, but it’s true.

- For me ?! What part of it was for me ?! He yelled.

- Because you don’t see what that girl is doing to you, she cried. It’s going to be a Kim situation all over again, everyone can see it. I see it. Look at the track you made ! You can’t tell me you’re in a healthy relationship with her ! Look at how you were in London. And the months before that…

- Don’t mention London, he said dryly. London was a mistake.

- What happened in London ? Paul asked.

- Nothing, they said at the same time.

Paul looked at them with incomprehension all over his face. The whole thing was messy and, thank God he had a better grasp on his emotions because, decades ago, he would have smashed Tracy’s face on his desk. How dare she pull something like this on him ? It was making him sick to his stomach.

- So what ? Marshall scoffed. You decided my relationship isn’t healthy and you took matters into your own hands ?

- I thought… I thought that if you weren’t able to see it for yourself, she would, Tracy said apologetically.

- Oh so you did that for her ?! He asked sarcastically.

- Marshall, I can’t stand it, Tracy cried. It’s your relationship with Kim all over again, only now I have to see you do everything you never did for anyone else. You have me booking your therapist appointments, booking the jet for your romantic Christmas vacations…! So I’m sorry, it was wrong, it was a mistake, I just… for a moment, I lost it. I’m so sorry. I was searching for the beat you made for the collab with Kendrick, and I stumbled across it and I didn’t think…

He scoffed and got up. Whatever excuse she was coming with was utter bullshit. Weeks ago, when they agreed to keep working together, she had assured him she didn’t have feelings for him and that they could keep things professional. And he believed her. She was one of his closest friends, often acting as a confidant. For fuck’s sake, she had been around his family !

- You’re fucking fired, he spat. Paul, I’ll let you deal with it.

- Marshall, please, Tracy begged. I’m sorry…

- You’re not, he said. And even if you were, I wouldn’t fucking care.

- Marshall, we should talk about this, Paul said in an attempt to reason with him.

- I’m out of here, he scoffed.

He exited his office and was on his way back to the room where the meeting was held when Paul caught him in the corridor.

- Marshall, the manager said. Maybe we can find a solution.

- A solution ? He scoffed. You’ve got to be fucking kidding me, Paul ! What solution ? She fucking- she… FUCK ! You want me to keep her around ?! After what she did ?

- No, of course not, Paul said. But she does a lot around here. She’s going to be hard to replace…

- I don’t care, Marshall said. What ? Do you agree with her ?! Do you condone what she did ?!

- Of course not, his friend send.

- Good, he replied. Now get rid of her. I don’t want to see her ever again.

- We’ll have to talk about it, Paul replied. About how we-

- Later, Marshall replied. If I have to see her face one more second, I swear to God you’ll have to call the cops on me and then bail me out.

The manager nodded sheepishly and let him go back to the meeting room. Everyone was waiting for him nervously. He closed his eyes for a second and decided to dismiss everyone.

- Everyone go home, he sighed.

- We just got here, someone said. Who leaked the track ?

- Go. Home. I already fired someone today, don’t make me fire all of you.

Everyone looked at each other and whispered before eventually vacating. A few people asked if the day’s studio sessions were still happening and, honestly, he couldn’t care less. As long as he was not forced to stay there, people could do whatever they wanted. He simply cancelled his own sessions and told people to do whatever they wanted and, if they needed to reach him, ask Paul instead. Y/N walked up to him and they stared at each other in silence.

- So-, she began.

- We’ll talk about it at home, he sighed. Let’s get out of here.

- Are you alright, man ? Jamal asked.

- Yeah, he lied.

Truth was, he was far from alright. He was feeling betrayed by someone he practically considered like a family member. Also, considering the subject matter of the song, it was worse than if she had leaked the album. She would have been fired either way but this was more insidious, more personal. The crowd vacated and the only people left in the room were himself, Y/N, Simon, Porter, Royce and Jamal.

- Do you want to talk about it ? Royce asked.

- Not now, he sighed. I need a minute, guys. I’ll explain but… later. Unless you want me to commit a murder.

- Is it-, Y/N began to ask.

- Later, he replied dryly.

His girlfriend avoided his gaze and mumbled an apology. He grabbed her hand and squeezed it, as a silent apology. His eyes met Simon’s and he automatically brought Y/N closer to him, in a rather possessive stance.

- Well… the matter seems dealt with, Simon hummed. I will be on my way. May I have a word with you ?

- Sure, Marshall said.

A new wave of tension came over the room and he saw Jamal and his girlfriend exchanging glances. Eventually, though, they left them alone. He took a good look at Simon and his jaw clenched as he imagined him with Y/N. He was already mad and it wouldn’t take much for him to throw a punch, but he remembered he actually owed him one

- I assume that what you did wasn’t very legal but thank you nonetheless, he said as they politely shook hands.

- To be fair, your IT security sucks, Simon said with a smirk. A twelve year-old could have done it. I’m surprised more hasn’t leaked.

- Right, he said coldly. Noted. Thank you.

- Obviously, you know it but, I didn’t do it for you, Simon continued. I did it for her.

- This, I figured, he replied curtly.

- She told me you guys are working things out, whatever that means. And I’m a man of honor so I’m going to respect her wishes. But don’t get me wrong : if you fuck up, and I know you will, I will be there.

- Are you threatening me ? Marshall asked with a raised eyebrow.

- I’m not threatening you, Simon said. Simply warning you. Y/N and I belong together. She doesn’t realize it yet but eventually, she will. I made mistakes and lost her, but I intend on getting her back and giving her what you won’t.

- Thanks for your concern, man, but I fully intend on giving her everything she asks for, he replied.

- Everything but what she craves most, isn’t that right ? The other asked. She told me about that. She thinks she can get over it but, I know her, and I frankly doubt that.

- If I were you, I would refrain from thinking about Y/N, he warned. She made her choice. Get over it, man.

- We’ll see, Simon said with contempt. Now, I hope that whoever is behind this will be dealt with properly. For Y/N’s sake.

They exchanged a cold glance and exited the room. If Y/N hadn’t been in the corridor, he would have gladly punched Simon but he knew that, in these circumstances, he’d better not. He saw Simon say goodbye to Y/N, who thanked him for everything. She looked a bit sad, in spite of the smile she tried to give. They went home, in a more than silent car ride. He was debating whether or not he should tell her about his conversation with Simon but he doubted it was a good idea. Even if she knew about his plans to get her back, she probably wouldn’t take it seriously.

- Are you alright ? She asked as they arrived home. I mean… are you really ok ?

- Not really, he said.

- It’s Tracy, isn’t it ? She asked.

- Yeah, he admitted.

- Wow, she simply said.

- I’m sorry, he sighed. I defended her, I kept on working with her… honestly, I never thought she’d pull something like this.

- Well… what’s done is gone, I guess, she shrugged.

- Paul’s dealing with her, he continued. I fired her, obviously, but we’re going to have to deal with it, with the team. What a shitshow…

He sighed and she hugged him. He wasn’t feeling especially responsive but he let her and rested his chin on top of her head.

- Is there anything I can do ? She asked.

- Not really, he shrugged. I just need some time alone, if you don’t mind.

He quickly pecked her on the forehead and went to the home gym. He spent a good part of the day in there, exhausting himself on the treadmill, hitting the punching bag, trying not to think about Tracy or Simon’s threat. He was a sweaty, angry, frustrated mess, and if people wanted to come for his relationship with Y/N, he would gladly come for them. She was his person, and there was no way he would prove Tracy right, or allow Simon to come between them.

- Is that Tracy’s face your imagining ? He heard Jamal’s voice say. Or Simon’s ?

- Both, he grunted.

- Can’t blame you here, bro, his friend replied.

Jamal held the bag while he kept punching, encouraging him to go harder, give it his all. When he finally stopped, a weight was lifted off his shoulders. He was still livid but some of the tension was gone.

- Better ? Jamal asked.

- Definitely, he replied. What are you doing here ?

- We came to check on you, his friend replied. Royce, Porter and Talia came with me.

- Oh. Thanks, he said.

- Y/N let us in, he continued. She’s worried about you. Said you’ve been here for hours.

- Yeah, I figured it’d be healthier to retreat and not risk snapping at her, he explained.

- So… Tracy, huh ? Jamal asked.

- Yeah, he groaned. Admit it… you also came for the details, huh ?

- Why don’t you take a shower and tell us everything ? His friend replied with a smile. We’ll be waiting in the living room.

He nodded and, after a long, hot shower, he joined everyone in the living room. Talia had even brought food, and he knew it was her way of caring for people. For someone who had called him an asshole, she didn’t seem to hate him too much. He greeted everyone and sat on the couch, making sure to pull Y/N close to him. She looked in his eyes, as if to ask if he was ok and he simply nodded and kissed her forehead. Then, he proceeded to explain the situation, revealing that Tracy was indeed the one behind the leak, most likely out of jealousy.

- That’s weird, though, Porter pointed out. You guys broke up more than ten years ago.

- Well, there’s been some… instances, he simply replied.

- Recent instances ? Royce asked.

- More or less, he hummed as he felt Y/N’s stare.

- Don’t tell me you cheated on Y/N, Talia warned. Or I swear to God…

- Of course not, he defended himself. Look, it happened when we were broken up. In London. And it was just a kiss.

- Men are trash, Talia sighed.

- Babe, they were broken up, Jamal said.

- Thank you, he said.

- Doesn’t mean it wasn’t stupid though, his friend continued.

- Look, I know, he sighed. But that’s all it was, a kiss. We almost went further but we didn’t. And then, I got back with Y/N and Tracy assured me there was nothing, and that we could keep on working together.

- That is so dumb, Talia commented. Of course she was going to try and do something stupid.

- I couldn’t know that, he groaned.

- Yeah, Porter said. I mean… it’s Tracy. She’s been part of the team forever. I can’t believe she did that.

- Man… I feel bad for her, Royce said.

He heard Y/N scratch her throat. He looked at her and she seemed displeased to say the least, visibly pouting.

- Are you alright ? He asked.

- Well I’m sorry but I don’t feel sorry for her, she shrugged. She made a choice to hurt people. Because of her, I was publicly humiliated and I have people harassing me on social media. So I’m not sorry she lost her job.

- Y/N is right, Talia said. She chose to betray you and hurt your girl, Em.

- Girls, what we mean is that Tracy has been a part of the team forever, Porter said. Of course what she did sucks. But it’s out of character.

- Whatever, Marshall sighed. If she was jealous, she could just have resigned as a personal assistant and kept on working with Paul. I would have understood. But fucking me over like this… I didn’t know she was capable of that.

- You’re going to have to find someone else, now, Jamal pointed out.

- I guess, he groaned. But how can I find someone I trust enough when my oldest, most trusted employee just did this ?

- It’s fucked up, Porter said. But I’m sure you’ll find someone. Knowing Paul, he’s on it already.

He nodded and the conversation shifted. They ended up spending the evening playing video games and talking about everything and nothing. He enjoyed having his friends with him and they did a great job keeping his mind off things. Y/N was in his arms, her head resting on his shoulder and he could smell the fragrance of her shampoo. Her presence was soothing, now more than ever. However, he could sense that she was tense, which was understandable. He was the one who wrote the track but Tracy was the one to blame for the humiliation. They were playing some random video game when the doorbell rang. He was busy trying to beat the others so Y/N got up and went to open the door.

- You’ve got some nerve showing up here, he heard her say coldly.

They immediately paused the game and gathered at the door. They were all facing Tracy, who was standing outside.

- What are you doing here ? He asked coldly. I thought I was clear.

- I wanted to apologize. Face to face. To the both of you, she said.

- I don’t give a fuck about your apology, he said. I could have expected this shit from a lot of people. But you… fuck, I can say I did not see it coming.

- I’m sorry, she said. I know it was wrong. I got lost in my feelings, I- it really hurt me. I know there’s no excuse but-

- Damn right. There’s no excuse, he said. Now, please get out of here before I call security.

She nodded sheepishly and went back to her car. He was about to close the door when Y/N stopped him. She followed Tracy and caught her attention. Before anyone could comprehend what was going on or stop her, she was pulling her hair and slapping her.

- What the fuck ? Tracy asked.

- This is for London, Y/N yelled as she slapped her a first time.

Everyone gasped as she slapped her a second time.

- This is for my reputation.

He knew he should probably intervene but he was in shock. He had already seen Y/N angry, he had even heard scream like a madwoman but seeing her hit someone was definitely not on his bingo card. Everyone was staring at the scene, not daring to move.

- And this, is for Marshall ! She finally screamed, punching her nose.

They saw Tracy fall to the ground and scream in pain, and they heard Y/N gasp as well, holding her hand. However, half a second later, both women were on the floor, fighting and pulling each other’s hair. Jamal was the only one to react and intervene between them, pulling Y/N by the arm and yanking the hood of the hoodie she was wearing.

- You little bitch ! Tracy yelled. You broke my nose !

- Be grateful, now you have a good excuse to get it fixed, you whore, his girlfriend seethed.

- Y/N ! Enough ! Jamal yelled.

He forced Y/N to go back inside and they sent Tracy on her way. As soon as the door was closed, he pulled his girlfriend aside.

- Three things, he said sternly. One, you’re fucking crazy ! And two, never put your thumb in your fist when punching someone.

- Yeah well, i- she panted. Wait that’s two… what’s the third one ?

- Three, have I told you how much I love you, yet ? He said as he tried to hide a smirk.

She gave him a shy smile and he pulled her in for a deep kiss. He could hear Talia clapping, though Jamal quickly scolded her for encouraging Y/N.

- don’t encourage her, Jamal groaned.

- My girl was right ! Talia said. She stood on business and I’m proud.

- Sometimes, I ask myself what a sweet girl like Y/N is doing with Marshall, Royce said. Not anymore, I guess. She’s just as bad as him !

He couldn’t help but chuckle. Y/N assaulting Tracy was out of character but he couldn’t help smiling at her. The way she defended him was much too sweet. Also, he was definitely thankful he hadn’t been on the receiving hand of that punch.

- She had it coming, Y/N mumbled.

- You’re feisty, Porter chuckled. I’m scared of you, now.

She giggled and he kissed her temple before grabbing her hand. It didn’t look too good and the simple contact had her wincing.

- Yeah, I think it’s broken, he commented. I guess I’ll have to drive you to the ER.

- Oh no, she whined.

- We’re going to have to teach you how to punch properly, he said as he shook his head.

- Don’t, Jamal scolded. You two are already too similar, we don’t need your flaws rubbing off on her.

Everyone chortled and he grabbed their jackets before everyone went to their respective cars. Before they parted ways, Talia looked at them with a smirk.

- Pray you don’t run into Nicole, she giggled.

- I’ve already punched one ex, Y/N said with a raised eyebrow. I can definitely take out another one.

[soobieedoo]

Formula of Love CH. 7 - failed disguise (written)

word count: 683

finding out that the guy who you purposely cut out of your life, now goes to the same school as you was NOT on your bingo card this year.

you’ve now become even more cautious. Wearing a hat and a mask in hopes of hiding your identity, glancing side to side in the hallways. It’s a bit ridiculous really, he respected the way you wanted to end things despite your lack of reason and it’s not like you insulted him either…at least not that you know of. But still, there’s something dangerous about lee donghyuck and you’d rather not venture into that territory... again. You liked your routines, you talk to the same people everyday, you go to classes, you did NOT need him to ruin that.

letting out a heavy sigh you didn’t know you were holding, you make it to the door of your chemistry class, you feel someone tap your shoulder as you try and open the door. With your heart beating you slowly turn around to see Jeno, Professor Kim’s TA who, according to everyone in class, is the hottest TA they’ve ever seen. Most of the time he just sits at the front of the room or hands out tests and assignments with a smile. You used to think it was annoying, he’s handing you hell on paper with the sweetest smile. But, you’ve grown to like it as there really is something comforting about it.

“um hi?” jeno says taking you away from your thoughts.

“hi?” you’re a little confused as to why he’s talking to you, thinking you’ve done an assignment wrong or failed the quiz professor kim gave the other day, you instantly start to panic.

“Y/N right?” jeno asked taking you away from your thoughts again.

“yeah, did i do something wrong?”

“oh nono! nothing” jeno smiles at you “actually i wanted to ask something! um i have a friend. He recently transferred to NCityU and is looking to speak to a fellow pharmacy student. I know you’re taking this class as a requirement for the degree so-“ an arm wraps around jeno’s shoulder taking him by surprise.

your breath stops.

as you look at him, your heart starts to beat. you pray he doesnt recognize you under the mask or the hat. Already preparing to decline jeno’s offer, he suddenly steps away from jeno and closer towards you.

“hey y/n, how’s it going?” you stay silent at first, frozen, words stuck in your throat. “hello?? earth to y/n” haechan says waving a hand in front of your face.

“s-sorry, hi…i’m fine how are you?”

“good! doing better now actually” he smiles at you, a small dimple showing up.

God you hate this. “i have to go i’m sorry class is starting soon it was nice seeing you donghyuck” “wait y-“ too late. You walk into the room, as haechan stares through the window watching you practically run to your seat.

“dude i had that in the bag, i was going to get her contact info for you. you freaked her out” jeno sighs from the side.

“i’ll get her contact info myself thanks”

“how? she can barely even look at you, i’ll give u 10 bucks if you manage to actually hold a conversation with her” jeno’s smug expression makes haechan laugh.

confident he stares through the window watching as you silently type away at your phone “well u better give me that 10 bucks now. i managed to get her to like me before and i never even met her in real life. what more now that she gets to experience all THIS in person.” he winks at jeno who gives him a disgusted expression in return.

“that might be the reason why she liked you in the first place, because she never actually MET you in real life.” jeno laughs preparing to enter the room.

haechan flips him off as he walks away.

with a slight skip to his walk, he smiles at his decision to move to this university. Determined, he sets a goal for himself.

note: currently preparing to travel to america for the first time to see dreamies!! so i apologize for late uploads coming up! ive been out and about doing last minute things :/ but! still hope u guys enjoy this written chapter :)

taglist: @bloomyroses @lionzyon @ourbeautifulaffair @yewshi @injunnie-lemon @nessaassen02 @dudekiss3r

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[thr-333]

My sincerest apologies for this vent, but I just have to say it for the One and a Half Futures Au.

I can’t stop thinking about what the guys would feel if they lost the war for a second time and Leon dies in the process - likely saving everyone else at the cost of his own life- with the survivors of the resistance ending up in a post-movie timeline.

They find out that Leo’s original plan to save Raph and stop the Krang has worked, and that all these years and sacrifices during the course of the second resistance were all for naught.

They had the solution right in front of them, and they threw it to the ashes. They could have spared everyone so much suffering if only they listened to Leon instead of siding with the future one. They could have saved Raph, Leon, got their old lives back and Casey would have lived free from war… But nope! They took Future Leo’s side and let Leon take the pain all these years for nothing.

Half-Future timeline Donnie is extra protective of current timeline’s Leo. He knows he’s not his original twin, and that these new Leo and Raph are not replacements for the brothers they’ve lost, but he feels so guilty for taking Future Leo’s side over his own twin and unwittingly enabling the abuse that followed that Donnie goes feral if Future Leo dares to be within a 10 feet radius distance from current Leo. Donnie hisses. He growls and bares his teeth. He makes it clear that Future Leo is NOT to come close or interact with new Leo in any way, and no amount of validation is going to keep Donnie quiet this time. Future Leo already screwed up one version of Leo. Like hell will Donnie let it happen again!

And thing is… Future Leo IS genuinely remorseful for everything. To think he could have solved everything he strived for if only he let Leon do his thing. Man, the guilt for screwing up not just one time line, but TWO?!

And he really wants to make amends. He knows it won’t fix anything, he has no right to, and it will never undo the damage he’s caused, but he does want to apologise, especially to Leo, even if he’s not the same turtle. He genuinely wants to help Leo be a good leader in the right way, but Donnie makes it clear that if F!Leo dares to come anywhere near current Leo, he’ll bite his head off.

The present family has no idea how to navigate this whole situation - provided they don’t know all the details of what transpired in the other timeline - and now current Leo is stuck in the weirdest custody battle ever.

There. I’m done. I apologise again for the venting. Bye!🏃💨

You know what? Screw it, I was probably never going to finish the comic up to this point anyway.

Good news! You're right! Better news, Leon survives!

They end up going back to the past(to an alternate timeline I suppose) after Leo manages to save everyone from the Kraang attack. There's no Kraang, no war, just the crushing realization of one man's decisions.

How you describe Donnie is exactly how Leon would be with his younger self. Old man Leo is not allowed anywhere near the kid.

And yes he does feel guilty. He was able to overcome his guilt in the second timeline by pushing it all onto Leon. Now he goes back in time and discovers not only would Leon have saved the world, but that Leo was the one that actively stopped him.

He needs to apologize, he knows he does. But he doesn't think he deserves to. Ultimately isn't it better to let Leon focus all his anger onto him so Leon can live his life free of guilt?(It's not, but when this man reaches rock bottom he grabs a shovel and keeps on digging)

No one in the family knows how to deal with this. They have future versions of themselves running around(There would be four versions of Casey jr alone!). With three Leos. The future family knew Leon's relationship with Leo wasn't great but they're starting to suspect there's more to it with how hostile he is about letting Leo anywhere near his young counterpart.

[nicromancytarot]

so how did you manage to find the exact name of your spouse thats quite cool!

It’s a long story in all honesty. 2022 I liked this guy, and I stumbled across pick a cards on YouTube, I watched one about my future spouse and it mentioned some specific things that unfortunately for 2022 me did not add up with the guy I liked. At the end of 2022 I interacted with my future spouse unknowingly, and he’s always been under my nose which sounds insane and creepy at the same time. My friend sent me a video of him in 2021 and I had no idea who he was, I used an audio of him on tiktok in 2022 and still hasn’t a clue of his existence, even as far back to 2020 when I saw him on youtube and vowed to never watch his content ‼️

He’s somewhat in the influencing space if you can’t already tell (I’ll keep his name private for the sake of both of our privacies and timing, since obviously things can change) so I didn’t think much of it. Then mid 2023 I got back into Tarot and pick a cards, I was feeling really demotivated so I decided to watch some about my future spouse again, same thing as always happens, I put two and two together and was like “oh, hang on a minute” then bro got semi cancelled and I was onto bigger and greater things, hoping Louis Partridge was my husband instead 😔

I always felt verrrry drawn to this person no matter what and it pissed me off cus this was my era of loving Miguel Ohara and wishing that he was real, but it was spoiled by this man being on my mind. So around 5 months later I got back into his content (very loosely) and I was a tad more content with him being my future spouse.

I then started learning more about astrology, he hasn’t got many chart analysis posts about him as he’s not mainstream or anything, but the ones that he does have, the “soulmate” ones weirdly describe me and it’s creepy, because it makes me feel parasocial, I only know one other person with a “famous” future spouse so I don’t really know how to feel about it, since there’s so many unsuspecting, but it’s weird to know who you’re going to marry.

Another thing I should probably say is that my spirit guides don’t hide much from me anymore, the start of 2023 they gave me a blob of information about the universe and how it works and all these things about the afterlife (which again, makes me sound psycho, so I don’t speak about it) I’m writing a book on it, have been for the last year, it’s definitely going to be a lot when I one day release it lmao, but because of them telling me all this stuff, they don’t really care to hide my future spouse’s identity for me, I think they figured that it will motivate me to actually get my ass up and become who I want to become so we can meet.

But going back to the astrology, I was told by my spirit guides via pendulum that I was going to meet him at 21, that was told to me October last year, December last year I was looking through our astrology transits, we both have a 5th house (love and relationships) transit on November 24th 2026, 14 days after my 21st birthday. So that was certainly confirmation lmao. His 7th house ruler (where you could meet) in astrocartography goes over the country I live in, and my 7th house ruler also goes over that place too, so again, very strange.

During my October pendulum time, I spoke with one of my great grandparents who had a specific message for me, and she proceeded to spell out his name, so that’s how I know that lmao.

I’ve done so many readings on it since because it does make you feel absolutely, incredibly insane and possibly out of your mind, and they’ve always added up. I did a “how he’s going to meet his future spouse” and then mine, they added up too much, it was terrifying (bro feels rejected by me, L) and I also asked for confirmation a few nights later for just a single sign that he is indeed my future spouse, I pulled AT THE SAME TIME the lovers and two of cups, I genuinely sobbed when I realised I could’ve recorded it, it’s the craziest thing that’s happened to me in Tarot I swear.

I also received a few readings since during exchanges and games where people have straight up confirmed that he is who I think he is. So hopefully we both make the right decisions to be together in the end, it’s definitely not an opportunity I plan on missing out on.

I can’t lie, knowing your future spouse is hard, especially if they’re somewhat someone you look up to, I’m not necessarily a “fan” of him, I don’t really interact with his content anymore, I haven’t really done so since early 2023, but I feel guilty for not doing so now as of who he is to me, and who he shall be. I constantly have doubts about it, my guides get pissed off at me all the time because I’m always asking for confirmation or searching for something, but really all I know now is that if I make all the right choices, and he does too, then we will become what we will be, but for now I guess I feel isolated in that.

I won’t get into the whole negative side of knowing your future spouse, unless some asks me to lmao, it’s certainly too much for this already too long rant.

Thank you for coming to my ted talk xoxo

[merrybloomwrites]

One Direction - Health Scare

Summary: When the workload leads to a medical emergency, the boys are there to take care of you.

Word Count: 941

CW: seizure, hospitals

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Being in One Direction is a dream come true.

It’s also the hardest thing you’ve ever done in your life. The work is incredibly fun, but also extremely grueling. You have expectations on you for every waking minute. There’s hardly time for a break or rest.

When you do sleep, it’s often on a bus, and never quite as restful as you hope. 

Halfway through the current tour, you begin to really feel the exhaustion. Not only are you and the boys doing a show nearly every day, but you’re also recording the next album. On the rare occasions when you have a night in a hotel, you’re often woken up to re-record something.

You can tell you’re not the only one who is getting run down, but you also feel like the boys are handling it better than you are. 

So you keep quiet, not wanting to complain to them when they all have their own stuff going on as well.

What you don’t know is how they’ve noticed how drained you are, and have talked amongst them about it. They’re worried, but they have no clue how to help. So they try to take care of you in subtle ways.

Liam is always making sure you have water or some sort of power drink, reminding you how important it is to stay hydrated.

Niall gets you food any time he grabs some for himself. He’d noticed you would skip meals on occasion and decided he couldn’t allow that on his watch.

Zayn asks you to meditate with him, saying that he does better with a partner. You don’t realize that he often does this when you’re most stressed, and he really wants to get you to take a minute to breathe. 

Louis gets into shenanigans, making you laugh and reminding you that not everything needs to be serious all the time. 

Harry asks you to hang on the couch with him on the rare times you get breaks. He’ll wrap an arm around you and tell a story. Sometimes you sit and listen, sometimes you take a power nap. Either way he’s happy to help you get some rest whenever possible.

But all of that isn’t enough. There’s something going on in your body that no one can see. You start to get dizzy, and these spells become more frequent.

Each of the boys have caught you more than once at this point, always helping you sit down to make sure you don’t get hurt. Their worry heightens every time this happens.

And then things get worse.

It’s early morning, and you had yet another fitful night of sleep on the bus. You head to the kitchen to make a cup of tea, and find Harry and Liam already there. They wish you a good morning, and you go to say the same, but find yourself unable to form words. That’s when your world goes dark.

Harry rushes to break your fall, and notices this isn’t like the other dizzy spells. Before he gets you safely to the ground you begin to shake in his arms.

“Oh my god,” Liam says. “She’s having a seizure. Get her on her side, quickly!” The two of them move you, cushioning your head and making sure there’s nothing nearby you can hit as you continue to have convulsions. 

The other three boys rush into the kitchen, having heard Liam shouting. 

“What the hell is going on?” Louis asks.

Liam is quick to explain, saying, “She’s having a seizure. Louis, call an ambulance, Niall call management and tell them what’s going on. Zayn get the driver to pull over.” They all do as they’re told while Harry continues to support you. After nearly two minutes, the seizing stops, but you’re still quite out of it. 

You don’t fully come to for a while, and by that point you’re in the hospital, Harry by your side and security standing by the door. 

“Hey there,” Harry says. “How are you feeling?”

“Uhm, okay I think?” you reply. “What happened?” 

“You had a seizure. Scared the shit out of us,” he answers with a chuckle, letting you know he’s not actually mad.

“Sorry about that.”

“Hey, don’t apologize. We just want to figure out what’s going on with you and help you get better, okay?”

Before you can answer, a doctor walks in. She introduces herself and asks you a bunch of questions. When she asks if you know where you are you reply, “Unfair question, I never know where I am.” Your cheeky reply let’s Harry know you’re feeling better, and you share a smile at the inside joke. 

After a full workup you’re discharged with orders to see a neurologist. The other boys are waiting, somewhat impatiently, for you to get back to them. You’re informed that the upcoming week of shows have been postponed so you can rest, and you know that the boys fought hard to make that happen. 

You spend the week in a hotel, and though you each have your own room, everyone piles into yours. They watch you for any signs that you’re about to have another seizure, and Liam goes with you to your neurologist appointment in order to fill the doctor in on everything that happened. 

You don’t have answers yet, but you find that you’re not worried. Not when you have the biggest support team there to take care of you. And though your job is hard, and at times overwhelming, you wouldn’t trade it for the world. Not when it led you to find the people who will be there for you, no matter what.

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AN: Hope you enjoyed the final One Direction ficlet! Full series and longer oneshots are coming soon!

[asirensrage]

Saudade - Chapter 5

Rating: Explicit Pairing: Mikey x OC, Hanma x OC, Ran x OC, Mikey x OC x Draken Fandom: Tokyo Revengers Warnings: swearing, violence, threats of violence, murder, smoking, sex, consensual sex between teenagers, alcohol, recreational drug use, mention of trafficking, torture, family neglect, mentions of sexual violence. isekai OC. memory loss. unbeta’d **warnings are not exhaustive** Summary: No one seems to realize she doesn’t belong until she finally runs into her “new” brother, Hanagaki Takemichi. Now, hearing his story, Takara makes the choice to help him and hopefully find her way home, but faking it til you make it only lasts so long when you start losing the memories of the life you had before. As Takemichi becomes the only family she’s ever known, how far will she go to protect him?

notes: This chapter is much longer than the others. It originally was two chapters, but one was much shorter. I considered making the larger one smaller but it didn't feel right. So, at the suggestion of a friend, I merged them. I was at a con today and found barely any Tokyo Revengers merch so I have to update to add my part to the fandom. If only to make myself feel better knowing that people are still here lol.

I hope you enjoy it. Your comments mean the world to me. Thank you all.

also on ao3

fic masterlist - prev chapter

THE PAST

It’s been a week since the future Takemichi left and she misses him. Not just because he was someone to talk to, but the current Takemichi isn’t on the same level. He’s more immature and honestly? She’s beginning to wonder what Hinata even sees in him. If he wasn’t her brother, she wouldn’t be near him. 

Luckily, he seems far more involved with his own friends than her and Takara is left to her own devices. Unfortunately, she only has some acquaintances and no sports for her to distract herself with. She spends her time doing homework and regretting the way she’s stuck here. 

She doesn’t wake up back home when Takemichi returns to the future. She’s just left with a weird sense of longing and the realization that she can’t really picture what her old bedroom looked like. She spent all her free time there. She should know, shouldn’t she? It sits like lead in her stomach. 

She slips unseen through the house that has claimed her. Her parents, these parents, don’t entirely seem to care that she exists. They’ll greet her and speak to her, but sometimes she sees the ways their eyes slip off of her, like oil against water. Sometimes they are startled by her presence, as though they’ve forgotten she’s there. Whoever’s placed her in this world has done a shit job. Old resentment festers but she’s learned long ago to cleanse the wound. She leaves her house and spends her time on her rollerblades, feeling more at home when she’s speeding down the path with her own skill than she does anywhere else. 

🏍️

Takara is sixteen. 

She’s in a body that she did not grow up in, with a family she doesn’t belong to, and acutely aware that she’s alone. She wishes Takemichi did not have to return to a future that feels impossible to see. She wishes she had something to fill her time with like before so that she doesn’t actually notice how she feels. 

On the one hand, she should be glad that she has the time to explore the areas where they live, on the other, she’s bored out of her mind. She hates being bored. 

It’s with a little research that she manages to track down a sports shop. Baseball is huge here, so she grabs the basic equipment for that, and she manages to find a hockey stick so that she can at least keep up with her slapshots. The store owner also pointed her in the direction of a rink that had skate rentals. A small thing but it already feels like a relief, like she hasn’t lost everything. 

She gets about a block with the large equipment bag thrown over her shoulder when a shadow falls over her as someone steps up next to her. She glances over before scowling. 

“What the fuck do you want?” 

It’s the giant from the other day. The one who said he wasn’t with the boys who hunted her down before claiming them as she made her escape. 

He grins at her and takes a drag of his cigarette. “Looked like you needed help. Thought I’d offer my services.” 

“With what? Reaching a top shelf that I don’t need anything from? Or hitting your head on the doorway on your way out?”

“Your bag,” he says, not at all put out by her attitude. “Looks bigger than you.”

“I’ve had bigger.”

His eyes seem to shine at that and she adjusts the grip on the hockey stick, ready to drop the bag and hit him if she needs to. “Let me carry it for you. You can buy me lunch to pay me back.”

She stops and stares at him. “What kind of shit deal is that?”

“One where we both win.”

“Sounds like I lose regardless.” An idea pops into her head and while it might bite her in the ass, it’ll at least entertain her for a bit. “How about this? We have a shoot-out. Whoever scores the most goals in five minutes wins.”

He steps closer. “Yeah? What do I get if I win?”

She tries not to roll her eyes. “You win and I’ll buy you that lunch.”

“And if you win?”

“You stop stalking me and leave me the fuck alone.” 

He takes another drag of his cigarette. “If I win, I want a kiss.”

She can’t stop herself from scrunching up her face at the idea. “A kiss?” She’s never kissed anyone before. She’s always been too busy. 

He laughs. “Yeah, princess. A kiss.”

She’s not sure if it’s confidence or simply the desire to wipe the expression off of his face. “Don’t call me that. And fine. You’re on.”

Hanma is a terrible loser. It’s kind of hilarious to see how frustrated he gets when he misses a shot, as though he can’t imagine being bad at something, but he makes up for it with how he praises every single one of her goals. She’d almost think he wants her to win. It sits sickly sweet in her mouth, making her nauseous. 

When she wins, because of course she does, she’s played hockey since she could balance on skates, she leans on her stick, and stares at him, feeling justifiably smug. “I win. That means you fuck off and leave me alone.”

“Oh it does, does it?”

Her eyes narrow, the tone reminding her of the way her brothers used to trick her. “That was the bet.” 

“You’re right,” he agrees. He darts forward, lips pressing against hers. She reels back and does the one thing her brothers drilled into her. She punches him. When he pulls back laughing, she adjusts her grip and swings, slamming the hockey stick up between his legs. He chokes on his laughter and she pulls back the stick. He doesn’t quite fall to his knees, but he does bend over, trying to breathe through the pain. She uses the angle and changes her grip on the hockey stick until she’s swinging it like a bat into his head. This time he falls. 

“Keep your fucking hands to yourself,” she snaps. 

His mouth is bloody as he laughs again and she ignores him, picking up her bag and leaving.

🏍️

“Hanagaki!” 

Takara turns automatically at the call of her name before it stuns her. There was no hesitation in acknowledging the name. 

“Hey! Hanagaki, you okay?” 

She blinks, looking up at Draken as he waves his hand in front of her face. “Yeah! Sorry,” she shakes off the feeling that she’s forgetting something and smiles. He’s standing there with his hands in his pocket but he’s not alone. She recognizes Mikey, Mitsuya and Baji standing with him. There are a couple others with them but she’s not sure who they are. She looks back at Draken. “What’s up?”

“Where are you off to?” 

“And what are you wearing?” Baji asks, gaze dropping down. 

She scowls automatically, aware of the insult. “Clothes. Why? Want some shopping tips?”

“Not from you,” he scoffs. “I was almost blinded looking at you.”

“You’re welcome to close your eyes,” she sneers before realizing that some of the others are staring at her in surprise. “Sorry,” she mutters. “I’ve had a shit week.”

“You okay?” Mitsuya asks. 

“Yeah, just had to teach some asshole the meaning of consent.” Their gazes sharpen and she even sees Mikey straighten. 

“Consent?” Draken asks. “Who? What the fuck happened? Are you okay?”

Her chin juts out. “I’m fine. Like I said, I taught him the meaning of consent.” The tension eases at their obvious concern and she’s reminded oddly of facing not only her brothers but her friends as well. Her attitude fades and she shifts in place. “What are you all up to?” 

“Ken-chin was released today,” Mikey says. He smiles as he continues. “We’re going to celebrate. Come with us.” 

“I’m good, thanks.” 

“Come on,” Draken says. “Mikey says to come, you’re coming. Besides, not like I don’t have to thank you for helping us.” 

“I didn’t do it for you.”

“I know,” his eyes close as he grins. “Doesn’t mean I can’t thank you.” 

“What’s it going to hurt?” Baji adds, throwing an arm over her shoulder. She shoves him off just as fast. 

“Fine.” 

🏍️

She’s squished into a booth between Draken and Mitsuya. Draken has an arm over the back of the booth bench behind her and both of their thighs are pressed against hers. It’s not entirely uncomfortable but Takara is used to being squished between her brothers, especially on road trips. She lost any sense of personal space years ago. 

The boys are rambunctious enough to make the wait staff wary of approaching, at least until Draken tells them to knock it off. The two on each side of her seem to be the more controlled or calming influences of the group, which doesn’t say much for the other side made up of Baji, Mikey and Chifuyu. She was properly introduced to him and Hakkai, who was seated next to Mitsuya but dead silent any time she said something, once she agreed to join them. 

“What do you want?” 

Takara muses over the menu but nothing seems appealing or familiar. “It doesn’t matter. Get me whatever. Maybe something with meat.” She can use the protein. 

As soon as they order her curry, she regrets it. 

Takara has never really been a fan of curry or spicy food in general. She blames her ancestors…and the fact that her parents weren’t that big on expanding their culinary horizons when she was a kid. She never put much thought into it if she’s honest, aside from the way her teammates would laugh when they watch her attempt spicy food. Now she’s not looking forward to getting this dish…and having to force herself to eat some of it. She did tell them to get her anything. She wasn’t really thinking about the possibilities. 

“So tell us about yourself.”

“Hmm?” She looks up, drawn out of her thoughts, as she realizes that Draken, Mitsuya and Mikey are staring at her. “What do you want to know?”

“Where’d you learn to skate?”

“Where does anyone?” She asks, reaching over to take a sip of her drink. “The rink.”

“Where do you go to school?”

She answers without thinking and is surprised to see them all staring at her in shock. Even the others on the edge. “What?”

“You’re in high school?”

She frowns, confused at the reaction. “Aren’t you?” 

It turns out, they’re not. Most of them are in their last year of middle school and while some are starting to stress about the entrance exams, others aren’t. It doesn’t really make sense to her because while she’s sixteen, she’s born in the same year that Mikey, Draken and Mitsuya are. She just had the advantage, or disadvantage depending on who you asked, to be born in January when the school term starts in April. 

“You’re so small,” Draken says. “I can’t believe you’re older than us.” 

“I will kick your ass,” she points at him. “Don’t fucking test me.”

“Can you reach?” he teases. Her eyes narrow but she’s drawn away from responding by the arrival of the food. She looks at the dishes, wondering which one is hers and mentally trying to figure out how she’s going to get out of this. 

Until it’s placed in front of her. 

 It smells delicious. If anyone notices her hesitance, they don’t comment on it. Instead they talk over her and Takara is left to try it on her own. 

This isn’t curry. It can’t be because Takara has tried curry before and not enjoyed it. This? This is fantastic. 

“Hey…hey, Takara, you alright?” She looks up at the sound of her name. Mikey is staring at her, confused. “You’re crying.” 

She reaches up, touching her cheek. He’s right. She’s crying and the moment she realizes, she starts crying harder. She vaguely hears the boys around her start to panic, but she ignores it. Something is wrong. It’s wrong because she’s not herself and she shouldn’t like this and nothing is right. 

Someone’s arm wraps around her shoulders and she finds herself being pulled into a chest. A hand rubs her back and she hears him whisper “Shh, it’s okay. Everything’s okay.” It’s strangely comforting, as though they’ve done it a million times. In the back of her mind, she hears Draken telling everyone to be quiet. 

When she finally feels like she can breathe, when the tears stop falling and she calms down, she pulls away. 

Mitsuya smiles softly and lets her go. “You alright?”

“Yeah, sorry.”

He shrugs. “It’s fine. I’m used to girls crying on me. I have two little sisters. They come to me for every scrape.”

She snorts at the imagery of the big bad biker being bombarded by little girls crying. “Still, thanks.” 

“You’re welcome.”

“What was wrong?” 

“Was the food that bad?” Mikey asked, looking completely serious. It’s enough to make her laugh. The tension eases at the sound of it and while the others still keep looking at her, 

“No, I just…” She goes to slip into the well-worn excuse she knows will make them stop asking, but Draken seems to catch on before she even can. 

“You don’t have to say,” he tells her. “None of our business.” She’s not sure if he’s being polite and giving her an out, or he just doesn’t want to hear it. Either way, it saves her an excuse. 

“Hey Takara! Let me tell you about the time…” One of the boys calls out, telling a story about their friend and the last mess they got in. The boys start teasing him and he tries to explain what really happened. It’s enough to distract her from nearly throwing up when she tries to eat again. The fact that it tastes good sits uneasily in her stomach. She pushes it away, deciding not to force herself and one of the boys takes it to test and ends up eating the rest of it.  

By the time they all leave, her crying is unmentioned and the cause of it slips through her fingers. She doesn’t recall what exactly was wrong. 

🏍️

Something breaks. She’s not sure if it was the dinner or Draken getting out of the hospital or the knowledge of her fighting to teach someone consent, but she suddenly finds herself constantly in someone’s company. It’s exhausting and some days she refuses to leave her house, just to ensure they can’t bother her. Not that it’s ever stopped Mikey or Draken from just walking in. 

She’s buried in blankets and half asleep when Takemichi comes barrelling into her room. 

“Takara!”

She lifts the blankets down just enough to see him before he runs towards her and hugs her tightly. “Get off! What the fuck Takemichi?”

“Sorry! Sorry!” He pulls back but stays seated on the edge of her bed. “I just got back. Well, not right now, maybe an hour or two ago? I was in the public baths with Mikey and Draken and then there was this meeting. It’s just…so good to see you.”

That gets her attention. She sits up and faces him. “Am I dead?”

“No, but you told me to pass on a message!” 

“What?” That…sounded like something she’d do if she knew she could communicate with her past self. Watch out on her left in that last game, don’t eat the shellfish at the going away party… “What did I say?”

“You told me to tell you everything.” And he does.

It’s enough to drive her out of bed and put on her skates. She thinks best when she’s moving. 

Takara skates down the dark and empty streets, her mind running over the new things she’s learned. Takemichi tells her everything about the future including Draken being in jail because of Kisaki and Toman still being led by Mikey and Kisaki. He told her about Hinata dying in the manner she did and his promise to take over Toman to make sure it changes. The only thing he hesitated on was her future. He told her she’s alive and still involved in the gang even when he wasn’t. She told him she swore to keep him alive so he can keep his promise. 

He didn’t tell her everything. She knows because her brother is a terrible liar. He always has been. At least, she’s always known when her brothers were lying to her. They couldn’t– 

She forces her thoughts back on track. That wasn’t the problem. The problem was the point her future self made. Why was Kisaki so focused on Hinata and Takemichi? Far as either of them knew, neither of them even knew Kisaki. At least…Takemichi didn’t. Until now. 

There’s only one thing to do. She needs to talk to Hinata. 

🏍️

It’s only when she’s outside the girl’s apartment building that she realizes how late it is. It’s not like she can throw rocks at her window to get her attention. She stands there, staring at the building before it occurs how creepy she looks and she goes to sit down on a ledge so she can figure out what to do. 

She calls Takemichi, but her brother must be knocked out because he’s not answering. Muttering how useless he is under her breath, she searches her contacts for another answer. She doesn’t have Hina or even Emma, but she does have a bunch of the boys who have been following her around. Baji and Mitsuya are out. Neither of them are likely to have Hina’s number. The only one she can think of might be Emma and the only way she’s going to get her number is through her brother. 

Takara is already tired, but if she’s going to help Takemichi, she needs the info. She’s going to have to call Mikey and deal with the fact that she’s been avoiding them. She half hopes he’s asleep so she doesn’t have to listen to him whine, or that Emma’s right next to him. Still, she presses his contact and waits. 

“Yeah?”

“Mikey, it’s Takara.”

“Who? Do we have a friend named Takara?” she hears him ask someone on his side. “Think we remember one…” 

“Okay okay,” she calls out. “I’m sorry!”

“Hmm..”

“Oh my god,” she mutters to herself. “Will it help if I promise not to avoid you guys anymore?”

“Takara! I remember now!” 

“Of course you do. Look, can I have Emma’s number?” 

“Emma? What do you want with Emma?”

“I’m outside Hina’s place because I wanted to talk to her, but it’s late so I can’t go to the door and don’t have her number.” 

There’s a moment of silence before he finally responds. “Takara, do you know what time it is?”

“I’m aware, Mikey. Can I have her number? Please?” 

“Stay there.” He hangs up on her. 

“What the fuck,” she stares at the phone for a moment. Not only does she get pounced on by a time-travelling brother, but she’s pulled out of her bed because she can’t think sitting still and now she’s getting hung up on. Mentally cursing everyone who’s ever been a problem for her, including whatever higher powers dropped her into this role, Takara sits and waits. 

She considers practising learning to grind on the edge of the ledge, but considering it’s dark and she’s more than likely going to wipe out, she refrains. She doesn’t want to wake anyone up at this hour. So she sits, fiddling with her laces and using the time to double-check the wheels on her blades. 

Not even ten minutes pass when she hears the sound of a motorcycle. Takara looks up at the noise and sighs. Mikey parks the motorcycle before striding towards her. Somehow, he manages to look confident and bored all at once, as though she’s dragged him from his bed to come rescue her. 

She skates over to him, meeting him halfway. “What are you doing here?”

“It’s late. You shouldn’t be here alone, Takara.” 

There’s something about the way he says it. He doesn’t sound like the irritated, teasing boy she knows. He sounds like Takemichi describes him when he talks about their gang meetings. 

“You didn’t have to come, Mikey. I just needed a number.” It was unusual to see him alone. She half expected Draken to appear, irritated at Mikey leaving him behind. No one comes though. 

“You can have it, but I can’t let Takemitchy’s sister be out here alone. Where is your brother?”

“Asleep?” Takara shrugs. “He’s not answering his phone.”

“Come. Ride with me.”

“I’m busy,” Takara says, looking at him dryly. “Are you going to give me Emma’s number or not?”

“You’re not contacting Hina now. She’s asleep. Emma’s asleep. Get on my bike. I’ll give you the number and you can deal with this tomorrow. When they’re awake.”

She skates side to side, considering his words. “Give me the number and I’ll go home.” 

He stares at her for a long minute. “After.” There’s something in his eyes that warns her not to argue. It’s a rare look on him, at least that she’s seen so far. 

She crosses her arms over her chest. “I’m wearing my blades. It’s not easy to ride with them on.”

He shrugs, “Take them off.” 

“And only wear socks on your bike?” She rolls her eyes when he just stares at her. “Fuck, fine.” He grabs her wrist and pulls her back towards his motorcycle. She lets him drag her, moving her feet only when necessary to fix her footing to make sure she doesn’t trip. She sits on his bike, leaning down and unlacing her rollerblades. She nearly topples both her and the bike over as she’s pulling one of them off. Mikey grabs the bike, keeping it steady.

Takara ties the laces together and tries not to wince as her feet quickly get cold. She hangs the rollerblades around the back of her neck, letting them rest just under her arms. It’s not going to be comfortable, but since Mikey has basically demanded she comply, he could deal with them digging into his back for all she cared. 

Mikey drives like a maniac. She thought Baji was bad in his race to make sure his friend was okay, but there’s no reason for Mikey to be speeding the way he is and weaving between cars. She’s tempted to let go, to see if she can hold herself up with her legs and just feel the wind blow past her. She almost feels free like this, like she’s not pretending to be someone else. She can forget that she’s not meant to be here. 

When he finally slows and pulls up by her house, she lets go. She sits there for a moment, trying to decide if the best choice is to just run for it in her bare socks or untie her blades and shove her feet back in. Mikey doesn’t move. 

“You gonna give me Emma’s number or what?” 

“Why do you have to talk to Hinata so bad?” He turns slightly to see her. 

“Girl stuff,” she says. It’s not like she can tell him she’s trying to stop a future where her brother keeps almost getting killed. 

He pulls out his phone and after a moment, she feels hers buzz in her pocket. “I texted it,” he says. “Don’t do this again, okay, Kara-chan?”

“Don’t call me that,” she glares at him before making her decision. “Thanks for the ride!” She awkwardly hops off the bike before running to her house, silently praying that her parents are fast asleep and none the wiser to her excursion. 

She hears Mikey drive off once she’s actually in her house and Takara does her best to silently put down her blades and creep to her bedroom. She doesn’t know why Mikey came to drive her home, or why he was so insistent about it. Especially since she has been avoiding them since she cried in front of all of them. Thankfully, no one’s told Takemichi about it, or if they have, it was the old one…not hers. She falls back on her bed and pulls out her phone, adding Emma’s number to her contacts. Whatever. She’ll deal with it later. She has more important things to worry about. 

🏍️

“Kisaki Tetta?” Hinata blinks in surprise, taking a sip of her drink. “Yeah, I know him.” 

Takara perks up and tries to squash the excitement she feels in possibly getting this figured out. “Oh yeah?” 

“We were in cram school together,” Hinata says. “Haven't seen him this year but he’s always been really smart. He was doing math equations that were far ahead of what we were taught.” 

That…fits with the little Takara knows of the future and the way Takemichi has yet to avoid his own fate or Hina’s. He would have to be intelligent to be able to plan the things Takemichi heard from Draken and even herself in the future. It makes this more dangerous. Takara isn’t intelligent in the same way, but she knows how to create a strategy based on the way people play, she knows how to use what she has to gain the advantage. It’s not the same as planning a play in hockey, but she’ll figure it out. She has to. 

“He doesn’t attend cram school anymore?” she asks, fidgeting with the straw of her cup.

“No,” Hinata answers. “Why do you ask? Did you meet him?” 

“Not that I know of,” Takara answers honestly. “Takemichi told me he joined Toman, that he’s a new captain.”

“So why did you ask me about him?”

Takara shrugs, leaning into the nonchalance she used to use on her brothers whenever she wanted something. “I figured I’d ask everyone I know. Someone was bound to know something. Besides, I want to know who my brother is around. Toman is alright, but you never know what might slip through the cracks.” 

“Where is Takemichi?” Hinata asks, sounding sweet. “I haven’t seen him all day.” 

Takemichi is on some sort of quest to drag Baji back to Toman. That also doesn’t make sense to Takara because she’s been around Baji and the others. They got along like a well-oiled machine, like a team that has spent days practicing together. His leaving with no explanation except that he doesn’t want to be involved anymore doesn’t make sense. It makes her regret avoiding them because clearly, she missed something important. 

“Who knows,” she says. “Probably doing something stupid with his friends.” 

Hinata giggles at that. “We’ve never really talked before,” she said. “I was a little nervous when you texted me.”

“You were?”

“Yeah, I mean, you’re a little scary.”

Takara stares at the younger girl. “What? Really?”

Hinata smiles. “You’re really cool, especially with your skating, but you always seemed…alone. I’m glad I’m getting to know you.” 

Well, that sounds depressing. Takara isn’t sure how to take that, she’s never really been alone her entire life. She’s always been busy with her teams or her family. Now though all she really has is Takemichi and when he’s not his future self, he’s gone most of the time. 

“Me too,” she finally says, smiling back. “So…you and Kisaki are just friends?” 

Hinata looks a little surprised by the way Takara brings the conversation right back to where they started. “Yeah, we were just friends. I admired him though, he was so smart. He always seemed so shy.”

Between what she knows about him from her brother, and the way Hinata remembers him, triggers something in her memory. Takara thinks back to her brothers and the way one of their friends hung around. He was a strange one and lingered around her the way she knew he shouldn’t. She had only told her brother when he said something he shouldn’t have. Her brothers came home with bloodied fists and she never saw him again. “Do you think he ever had a crush on you?” 

“What?” Hinata laughs. “No! We were friends!” 

“Okay,” Takara says, forcing herself to laugh. She doesn’t believe it. No one murders someone repeatedly if they are just friends. At least not on his side. For a moment it occurs to her just how strange the situation is. What is her life coming to? 

“Takara?” 

She blinks back in focus, smiling at Hinata. “Sorry. It was a long night.”

“You sure you’re alright?”

“Yeah, don’t worry about me, Hinata. I’ll be fine.”

🏍️

It’s by complete accident that she runs into Baji. 

She’s skating down the street, ignoring the glares some people send her way when she nearly crashes him as he exits a store. 

“Woah!” He catches her before she falls when she tries to dodge out of the way to keep herself from injuring him. He lets go as soon as she’s standing. “Takara?”

“Oh, hey Baji,” She glances around but there’s no one else around. “How’s it going?” She shifts her feet back and forth, keeping herself standing. 

He frowns slightly but it looks a little forced. “What are you doing?”

“What?”

“I’m not part of Toman anymore. Why are you talking to me?”

“Why are you talking to me?” she snaps back automatically. “I’m not part of Toman, what the fuck do I care if you are or not.”

“Really?” he grins. “Because your brother has been demanding I return.”

“I don’t control him,” she says with a shrug. 

“So you’re not going to try to convince me to go back?” he looks like he doesn’t believe her. 

“No offence, but I have better things to do with my time.” That’s a lie, but he doesn’t need to know that. “You must have your reasons for changing teams. People usually do.” 

He looks like he doesn’t quite believe her. “You don’t care?”

“Should I?” 

“That’s her, Officer!” 

Takara looks to the side, seeing an older woman pointing towards her. The police officer standing next to her is staring towards Takara.  “Shit.” She’s been told that skating in public places is a disturbance but she’s ignored it. She can’t get in trouble if they can’t catch her. 

Baji grins at her, sharp and wide. His concern seems forgotten as he grabs her hand and pulls her as he takes off. She hears someone yell for them to stop but she lets him drag her. He knows the area better than she does, even with all her wandering. 

By the time they stop, they’re both laughing hysterically. They managed to ditch the cop but didn’t pause until the trail of people yelling after them faded and they were left alone in an alleyway off of a park. 

Once they stopped, Baji was leaning against a wall and Takara moved back and forth in place. 

“Thanks,” she says once they catch their breath. 

“Nah,” he tilts his head back and rests it against the stone. “Thank you. Been a while since I laughed like that.” 

“That’s sad.” She says it without thinking. 

“Ha!” he nods. “Yeah, it is.” He falls silent and Takara is content to wait. She’s not about to dive back into public this soon after being chased by the police. They’re likely still looking for her. “I don’t regret my choice.”

“Huh? What choice?”

“To leave Toman.” He looks over at her. “It’s for the best.”

“Okay?” Takara shrugs. She’s not here to judge him or demand he return. That’s apparently Takemichi’s job. She makes a mental note to go talk to her brother and figure out what his plan is. She was half asleep and focused on the fact that she’s still here in the future that she may have tuned him out a little…she doesn’t remember hearing about any plans except that he was going to get Baji back. 

He looks at her carefully and she lets the silence fall as he seems to weigh his options. She takes the chance to practice skating on one foot, keeping her core tight and her balance steady. 

“I’m trying to save them.”

Takara looks up, suddenly interested. “Save who?”

“My friends. All of them. I’m doing this for a reason. I have a plan.”

“Is it a good one?” she can’t help but ask.

“It’ll work,” he nods, mostly to himself. 

“That’s not what I asked,” she says, taking note of the way he’s not answering. He doesn’t respond and Takara doesn’t push. Her brother used to be the same way. Always had to do his own thing and never wanted an opinion until it blew up in his face. Not…Takemichi. Her other one. One of them. 

She stops moving. She knows their names. She does. They were some of her first words but they’re not…they’re not coming to her. It’s like they’re on the tip of her tongue but she can’t seem to grasp it. 

“-kara?” Baji steps toward her, drawn out of his planned monologue. “Hey. You okay?” It’s not the first time he’s seen her drift off in thought, face paling as tears build in her eyes. 

Her gaze snaps to him as the weight drops in her stomach at the realization that she can’t remember her brothers’ names. “I have to go.” 

She bolts. Baji runs after her, yelling for her to stop, but Takara is on wheels and moves like she was born on them. She speeds up, weaving around people with skill she doesn’t often show as she succumbs to the desire to run. 

Something is wrong. It’s so fucking wrong that she can barely breathe from the weight on her chest and the adrenaline coursing through her veins. She runs over all the names she knows, ones that fit her old life and the person she used to be, but nothing feels like it fits. None of them sound right coming from her lips and she falls to her knees, barely aware of the way her landing scrapes open the skin. She bleeds, on the pavement and in her soul. 

Takara doesn’t belong here and every moment is a reminder…except that things keep escaping her. Nothing is as bad as this. Her brothers taught her to skate, they terrorized her and cheered her on and the three of them ran circles around their parents. They are a part of her, down to the DNA they share….

She throws up, heaving the remains of her lunch as her body feels like it’s collapsing inward. She doesn’t share their DNA anymore. She’s not herself. Takara is stuck in a body that shouldn’t exist and playing a role that was cut out just for her. She doesn’t know why. She doesn’t know what happened or if there’s a reason…but she’s losing herself. She’s losing everything. 

She only moves when she hears someone shout at her and threaten to call the police. It’s automatic. Takara is only half aware of where she’s going, numb to the world as she goes through the motions to go home. She wants to go to bed. She wants to crawl in and never come out until everything returns to normal. Until she’s back where she belongs. 

There’s no car in the driveway and she silently prays that no one is home so she doesn’t have to explain why she feels like shit. She takes off her rollerblades outside the door and creeps in. She makes it as far as the living room doorway before her name is called out. Takara turns at Takemichi’s voice and stops at the sight of the stranger in her home. The boy next to Takemichi is bleach blond and covered in bandages. He looks like he had the shit beat out of him. 

Her mouth opens before she can stop herself. “What the fuck happened to you?”

The grief at the loss of a name slips to the back of her mind, forgotten as her brother introduces her to his new friend, Chifuyu. 

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