#this post brought to you by my determination to be less ashamed about some of the increasingly niche shit I've been known to enjoy

[voidchillz]

I’m Your Neighbour

Hm? That’s Not My Neighbour Doppel Sanses X You Au? 🤔

Couldn’t be.

Your booth always smelled damp. Damp, mouldy, and dusty.

Asking the D.D.D. multiple times to clean it properly proved less than useful. The floors and walls were peeling and it wasn’t insulated properly for the colder months. But every day you requested a deep clean, all you got in return was the same salty response that you were only allowed to call the Determination Doppelgänger Defence for emergency cleanup. You knew for a fact that the people there weren’t allowed to ignore your calls, and it was very tempting to just keep bugging them until they fixed your cramped little room, but risking getting fired was not on the table. You were setting aside a portion of your paycheque every month in hopes to do the damn upkeep yourself, but so far, the most you could do was occasionally dust and pass a few surface wipes over the more disgusting areas to keep you sane. You even managed to scrape up the cash to get an inexpensive dehumidifier and some scent defusers… and some colourful stickers to put on the glass. It was miserable enough outside for everyone to come home from gruelling work in a crumbling grey city filled with untrustworthy strangers, only to then have an incredibly tense checkup that put their lives at risk as soon as they got back home. So you had a naive hope that the little heart and cat stickers and slightly less stagnant smells would encourage your neighbours to relax a little more…

It hadn’t really worked.

Except… you did have one person representing the proof that the world wasn’t completely lost out there and in here.

And speak of the devil.

That warm recognisable grin already had your dehydrated discouraged slump rise into a much more relieved state, tucking your hair back and ignoring the faint distain at its distinct greasiness. You really needed a shower. But hey, there was still a glass window between you and your favourite neighbour, and that artificial sweet rose scent was still on the air, so you had little to worry about when it came to smelling nice for him.

Despite his very apparent lack of eloquence, Sans worked as a freelance inventor, and damn was he good. But the poor guy was out almost every day, and though you were a little ashamed to admit the selfishness of it, whenever he came home late, it was the absolute highlight of your day. He was always the last one into the building, and on occasion you did wonder if the sweet little bastard went to the back of the line on purpose just to milk his time with you, but nevertheless, he always made sure you left your post to attend to the city’s curfew with a smile. There were even points that he refused to let you leave until he’d made you snort with laughter.

“that ID all up to scratch, kid?”

“you sure i’m on the list?”

“was that the D.D.D. logo…? maybe…”

He was the only neighbour that ever lingered, the only one that brought more attention to his forms rather than hoping you just let him through without a second glance at the checklist. Hells, at one point he’d even purposefully used an expired ID just to catch you off guard. The ass had given you the real one after, but he got a good earful from you, even when your heart was still thundering with terrified adrenaline, he grinned at you like some petty house cat. He never fidgeted, never twitched, just gave you that big smile and reminded you how good it felt to have a relaxed conversation with someone. Albeit a someone with a taste for pranks. Fake forms with wet ink, approaching the window with those dumb fake eyebrow and nose glasses on, he was so lucky there was something preventing you from smacking him upside the head when he got too silly. Still… he was the only one in the building that remembered your name.

With him sidling up to the glass, you were itching for stress relief. Today had been… long. Thankfully he skipped the pranks and just handed his ID and Entry Request in through the grate. He looked about as tired as you felt.

“evening, y/n, good hustle today?”

You grumbled with a non-committed frown, idly glancing through the letters you’d memorised.

“Mngh… you?”

“mnh…”

He leant his weight against the wall and his forehead against the cooling glass after his responding grumble. It made your frown lift just slightly. He never really went into details about his work, but despite his smiles and playful jabs, he always looked strained. Eye bags, bedraggled hair, and dirty slippers, poor guy looked so soft and tired you were always tempted to give in whenever he slyly offered to come into the booth and take a break with you before your governmentally enforced bedtime. You’d gathered with how much he worked during the day that offering some stress and obligation-free drinks back at your place wasn’t really feasible… N-not that it was to begin with. Having your end-of-day chats was always lovely, but you had strong suspicions he just wanted to be friendly about an uncomfortable situation, he had that kind of welcoming air about him, so asking a very handsome very sweet near-stranger for drinks would be weird… right? Yeah…

“that entry request looking pretty interesting today, huh?”

“Wha… Oh!”

Shit. You’d just been zoning out and staring at his picture. Blinking and rubbing your face to clear your eyes you handed the request and identification back through and quickly ticked off the checklist with mechanical efficiency and pressing the button to unlock the apartment complex’s door.

“Right, go on ahead.”

…

He didn’t move.

Kinda just idly watched the door open before those icy blue eyes dragged back to you.

“damn, you really are zonked out today. already trying to send me to bed, officer? and here i was thinking you liked our talks.”

He teased with a little grin while you busied yourself with signing the checklist with his name and apartment number before tucking it into your desk drawer to ignore how hot your cheeks were.

“You know I do.”

“then what’s the problem?”

Ughh… He was really good at this… Didn’t matter how hard you kept up a smile, Sans had better eyes than you did.

You rubbed your face again, digging the balls of your palms against closed eyelids to try and rub the calling sleep out of them. Double checking behind him through the glass to ensure there was no one else waiting… you sighed and slumped with a drawn out groan.

“i knew it. come on, what’s wrong?”

He refrained from immediate jokes, and… well you appreciated it. Today didn’t feel like one that could be saved with quips.

“…I got three of them today.”

He went silent for a moment, a twisted up sympathetic look souring his pretty smile, his voice growing even softer.

“they’re getting ambitious…”

“Mh…”

It wasn’t the first time you’d had an off day, but for months now most all Doppels had backed off your building, no matter how much you triple checked the papers… you didn’t want to think about what was happening at the other housing estates.

“i’m sorry, kid… the D.D.D. shouldn’t have made this stupid system.”

“Bots couldn’t do it. I wouldn’t trust them to be loose enough with the regulations that innocent people not wearing their usual hats wouldn’t get hurt.”

“you don’t know what they do to them during cleanup.”

“It’s implied, Sans…”

Another silence… your throat felt tight.

“Sorry…”

“about being the kindest person left in this damn city? don’t be. you gotta be the only person left that feels bad for doppels.”

He gave a gentle smile and carefully slid his hand through the grate, which you accepted gratefully. Human contact was so rare nowadays, everyone was terrified of everyone else. Business owners had their own strict rules to ensure they were selling goods to doppels. You knew they were dangerous but… ugh… it was such a complicated situation. But you weren’t about to put this responsibility on anyone else.

Sans squeezed your hand reassuringly, all you could do was pitifully bite back tears.

“I just… hate how bad it’s gotten. No one in the building trusts me and I’m supposed to be protecting them.”

Another gentle grip got your attention back to those heart-achingly sincere eyes.

“how long you been at this, kiddo? eight months? and not a single casualty. i don’t know about you but that’s fucking astounding. and even if you did slip up, a doppel’s sole purpose is to do so, make you fail, make you crumble under the pressure and let them in. not a soul at the D.D.D. could dream of being as gutsy as you.”

He hesitated for a moment before crouching down a little behind the glass, guiding your hand through the grate, and sending a full body quake through you when the last thing you expected was for warm lips to press a very tender kiss to your knuckles. When he looked up again, smiling warm as ever, you had an odd feeling that he was as hot in the face as you were currently.

“you’re doing great…”

You pursed your lips and felt your eyes blur and swim with tears, and if you hadn’t taken a moment to brush them away, you would’ve seen Sans smile dreamily as he stroked the back of your hand with his thumb.

“want me to come in there?”

“You know I’m not allowed…”

“you also ain’t allowed to stop and chat with me, but we’re well past that point.”

…

That was very true…

Maybe drinks at your place wasn’t impossible after all…

§

By this point Sans had the tone of how the stairs creaked ingrained into his skull. Walking up and down those death traps everyday was his only workout, and it was still too much.

But damn… who could care about that right now?

When he’d just gotten a solid few minutes cuddled up to his favourite little Human…?

You’d been so warm against him… so soft and delicate, it only made him prouder about his firm decision to make it clear to every other one of his kind that this building was off limits. And if the D.D.D. didn’t get to them first, Sans would be worse.

He would’ve stayed longer. Would’ve curled you up against him, lifted you up into his arms and carry you up these flights like he was lighter than air. But… gah, fuck. He got too excited. You had taken a few minutes to just cry against him, gripping his hoodie with those fragile intricate hands, letting him stroke your hair and soothe you. And then he just made you giggle with his stupid jokes until you were bright again. There had always been a difference between sunny smiles and your smile. Sunny was blinding and almost uncomfortable, it only really worked on the very young Humans, any older and they were either trying to get something from whoever they were smiling at or just wanted to leave the situation entirely. But your smile… it was less like the sun and more like… moon beams through the clouds. Soft and beautiful and natural… which was why he had to reluctantly escape far earlier than he would’ve liked.

Sans had been so absolutely blissed out by your deeply expressed gratitude and appreciation that he had been slipping… He was glad everyone else was already in their apartments, otherwise they’d have seen him shaking to get his key into the door with a grin that would split any Human’s cheeks apart.

He tried to breathe slower, do his regular exercises that had kept him alive for this long, but he just collapsed. As soon as he got the door shut, he stumbled onto his couch and clutched the pillows until they crackled and tore unpleasantly beneath his fingers. Not that he had long nails on anything, but hands were the hardest for him to keep up, it’s why he often stuffed them into his pockets to save a little extra energy. And now, all he could do was grin and claw at the cushions…

You were going to be the death of him…

[satansaidnottoday]

Twinning: Part 1.

Part 2

Info: Human AU, Lucifer's Mc, GN!Mc.

Happens directly after this.

Summary: the twins birthday is coming up and Lucifer wants to make it special. You're determined to help.

Late in the morning, just before lunch break, was the best time to work on custom orders. Barely anyone came after breakfast, barring the occasional late coffee drinker. Working on your counter opposite the entrance, you wielded a variety of piping bags. You were careful not to smear the hand-drawn stars, pipping small planets on a space-themed cake. Soft instrumental music filled the room, only interrupted by the occasional meowing of your coworkers. They basked in the soft, post-storm sun entering the windows, purring and cleaning each other.

"What are you doing?"

You shrieked in surprise, letting out just a little too much red buttercream on Jupiter. Tuning around, you faced your unexpected visitor. Another Morning Star brother, a redhead, a little too tall for a kid but with a childish face. How did he even manage to enter without making the doorbells chime?

"Sorry, did I scare you?" He asked but didn't look at you.

You put on your best customer service smile. "No, just got a bit startled, that's all."

"What are you doing?" He reiterated.

"I'm decorating a cake."

"What is it for? Are you gonna sell it? Is it chocolate?" Without stopping his questions, the kid placed his hands flat on the counter, repeatedly jumping to look at the cake.

"Someone is having his birthday here tomorrow and he ordered a cake."

"Why does it have stars? My brother likes stars. Are those planets? How old is he?" He didn't stop, even to breathe, not leaving any space for you to answer.

This time, the bells did chime, as Lucifer stepped inside with a stern look. Riding on his back was the smallest of the siblings, looking around with bored eyes. "Beelzebub, I told you not to run ahead. What if you had gotten lost?" He scolded the redhead, who didn't seem to care much.

"I'm sorry, Lucy," he didn't even look up at his brother, eyes fixed on the cake.

"I told you not to call me that." Lucifer reached the counter and finally looked at you. "Good morning, Mc. I'm sorry for the ruckus."

"No matter, Lucy," you answered playfully. He didn't seem to find it so charming, giving you a dry smile. "How can I help you?"

"We brought you back your umbrella." He looked at Beel and gave him a little nudge. Just then you noticed the thing he was holding, as he placed it on the counter. A cheap plastic umbrella, covered in goofy cat faces. The art was your own, some of your best work if you said so yourself. You had various designs printed on school paraphernalia for the back-to-school season. A bunch was left over.

"You didn't have to bring it back," you said with a smile. "You can keep it."

"Are you sure?" Lucifer lifted an eyebrow.

"Yeah, I'm sure your kids would like it." You couldn't sell it now that it was used anyway.

"Well, how mu–" Before Lucifer could keep talking, the brother on his back spoke up.

"Lucy, can we get that cake?" It was the first time you heard him speak. He looked excited for once.

"Oh, I'm sorry, that's not for sale, but you can pick anything from the cake menu," you tried to offer.

"Do they have constellations?"

You shook your head. "No, but I have Galaxy cat cupcakes if you'd like them."

The kid nodded, less energetic than before. Lucifer lowered him to the ground and reached for his wallet. The redhead started to jump again.

"Lucy, they do birthdays. Can we have our birthday here? Please, please, please."

Lucifer took a deep breath, handing you the money. "I'll see."

With him closer to you and not dripping wet, you could see Lucifer's swollen lower lip with a small fresh cut. You wondered if that was what Satan was talking about. He seemed to notice you staring because he looked away. A little ashamed, you gave the two expecting kids their cupcakes.

"Go see if the cats want to play," Lucifer ordered and Beel didn't wait a second to drag his poor brother to the play area.

The moment they grabbed some of the toys, Felicia leaped to them, running between their legs at full speed. Lucifer smiled, seeing them start to play with the cat.

"You know, Satan really likes that cat," you say, taking your chances.

"He does?" Lucifer looked surprised "He doesn't really like anything." There was a sudden sad undertone in the man's voice.

"I can contact you with the shelter if... You're interested."

Lucifer turned around to look at you, browns furrowed. You worried you had said something wrong until he talked again.

"How much do you charge for private parties?"

The question took you by surprise. You had already forgotten about Beelzebub's request.

"Well, I usually charge a flat fee, plus catering," you explained, taking a small pause to think "but I'll only charge you for the catering."

"Why?" He looked at you like you were trying to scam him. You repressed a small laugh.

"You're my neighbors and I haven't given you a welcome gift yet, so this is it." You smiled at him, yet he still seemed uneasy.

"If you say so... How much will that be for nine people?" You wrote him a quote, including the items offered on the menu. He considered it for a few seconds. "How much for a custom cake?" he finally asked.

"For a small one, they start at about $100. It depends on the filling and the designs."

You took out a sheet with basic prices by size and flavor. He chewed the insides of his cheeks while looking at it. Though subtle, you could sense his anguish. You could only imagine how hard it would be to maintain a house and feed six mouths, all on his own.

"I do offer a free basic cake for birthday parties," you said in the most neutral tone you could. It was a lie, but you had a feeling Lucifer wouldn't accept it if you just gifted him the cake.

He nodded and took out a debit card from his wallet. "Can I make a reservation for March 11th? I'll pay it all now."

"Of course!" After running the card, you took out your notebook for reservations. "I just need the name of the birthday boy for decoration."

"Beelzebub and Belohegor," he answered, peaking at the kids.

"Both for them?"

He nodded, "They're twins."

"They look nothing like it," you laughed lightheartedly. He didn't. "So, how old are they turning?"

"Thirteen."

"So you officially will have a house full of teenagers."

The sigh Lucifer let out could only be described as a cry for help. You couldn't help but laugh, more as a sign of understanding than mocking. He looked up at the wall clock and straightened himself.

"Well, we need to go. Thank you for everything, Mc." He turned around to call on the twins, you took the opportunity to slip a card from the shelter with his receipt. "I'll call you later to close details on the reservation, is that okay?"

"Sure, whenever you can."

He nodded and directed the kids out the door, as you waved at them. Before they even left the front of the store, Belphegor was already on his brother's back.

"So he likes stars…" you whisper to yourself.

AN: Hey I'm back. Life has been fucking me and I'm having an existential crisis, so I'm back to writing for my comfort characters.

Hope you liked this! I decided to break it up in parts so I can publish them over the holidays.

[venus-haze]

The Heart Is a Lonely Hunter - Part 2 (Yandere!Austin!Elvis x Reader)

Summary: The whole world knows you’re engaged to Elvis. As you try to navigate the increasingly troubling relationship with your boss-turned-fiance, you seek answers—and a way out—before you legally become Mrs. Presley. No matter what you do, it seems like he’s always two steps ahead of you.

Notes: I want to say thank you so much for the overwhelming support for part 1 of this fic (I can’t believe it has almost 300 notes)🖤 I hadn’t anticipated the overwhelmingly positive response or the interest in a second part. I hope this lives up to everyone’s expectations. I think this part is darker than part 1, so please look at the warnings before reading this because I added additional ones. I left it open for a part 3, if enough people are interested. Requests are open🔮 Do not interact with my blog or posts if you are under 18 or post ED/thinspo content.

Word Count: 5k

Warnings: This is a yandere fic, so expect dark themes such as emotional blackmail, obsessive and manipulative behavior, physical violence (blood), and abuse of power, which some people may find disturbing or triggering. Emetophobia warning for one short part of the fic. Some sexually explicit content that involves coercion. Do not interact if you are under 18.

Prequel | Part 1 | Part 3

After the extremely public engagement, you could hardly watch TV for weeks. The press was having a field day calling you a gold-digging home wrecker, crafting stories about how the engagement ring was one of the most expensive on record, and distorting your and Elvis’ professional history, as if you’d deliberately taken the job in ‘68 as part of a years-long scheme to slowly chip away at the foundation of his and Priscilla’s relationship, which was showing signs of strain by the time you met them, away.

You knew you wouldn’t get any peace by trying to be combative with him, not with how unpredictable his behavior had become. Instead, you had to exhaust yourself on a daily basis, trying to keep what remained of your boundaries while not setting him off, which was easier said than done. It was like he’d become physically attached to you, and would sink into a dangerous paranoia when you were away from him for too long. As you played with the ostentatious diamond ring on your finger, you worried that marrying him wouldn’t be enough, that he’d resort to increasingly deranged and desperate measures to keep you from leaving. 

There was only so much of it you could blame on the drugs, as he caught on to your distaste for Dr. Nick and began using his ‘services’ less and less, which could have meant he was going through withdrawals. No matter how much you tried not to, you kept making excuses for him, as if he weren’t a grown man capable of making his own decisions.

He didn’t expend this much effort trying to mend his and Priscilla’s relationship, as far as you were aware. From what he’d told you, he woke up one day and she just left Graceland with Lisa Marie. If only you could be so lucky.

You could understand the newfound distaste Priscilla had developed toward you, greeting you with a polite coldness a few days prior when she brought Lisa to spend a few hours with Elvis. You wanted so desperately to pull her aside and let her know none of it was true, that you didn’t even want to marry him, but you were never away from him long enough to be able to do so. When she had picked up Lisa later that evening, Elvis was clingier than usual, perhaps watching his ex-wife leave again, move so freely, made him more determined to ensure your proximity to him. 

When you’d told him you wanted a small, private wedding, he was irate, going on an irrational rant where he accused you of being ashamed to be with him. You were only able to calm him down with claims that you thought it would be more intimate if only a handful of people were in attendance. "It’d be so special," you’d said softly. "Why let people who won’t appreciate it ruin our day?" He was silent for a few agonizing moments, before conceding that you’d made a good point. Considering it a win to get him to agree to your reasoning, you found yourself having to pick and choose your battles when it came to him.

In a little less than a week, his annual residency at the International would be over, and he had a while in between the marathon of a US tour he normally did. You knew that meant a few weeks in Graceland, and you were oddly looking forward to it. The mansion had acres of land to get lost in, and far more privacy than the International. You couldn’t even go anywhere in Vegas without being recognized, especially since any time you wanted to go out, at least two security guards accompanied you if Elvis couldn’t go with you himself. It’d become so much of a pain that the only place you had any peace was hiding out backstage, where the band and the Memphis Mafia at least still treated you like a normal person.

Elvis had always been generous with you, but since the engagement, it was overwhelming. The dress he had broken the night he made his affection known to you was replaced with five others of the same style, in various patterns and colors. You appreciated that he didn’t try to overhaul your wardrobe, but you found it growing at an unmanageable rate as he always wanted you to match him. This included jewelry and accessories from designer brands you could only dream about in storefront windows before, but getting them this way made you never want to so much as look at them.

“You don’t listen to what they say about you in the press, do ya?” he asked, one night, when you expressed discomfort with the lavish gifts he’d give you. “See baby, I told you, from now on it’s you and me. They get to you, and they fill your head with so much garbage ya can’t see straight. I couldn’t live with myself if that happened to you.”

You shook your head, almost dizzy from how quickly his mood changed from the excitement at presenting you with yet another new pair of shoes to anxiety at your response. He continued, impassioned, “You know they say those things because those miserable sons of bitches don’t want us to be happy. I don’t–maybe you shouldn’t watch TV anymore.”

“Elvis, I hardly watch TV as it is, and when I do it’s Carol Burnette’s show or Columbo,” you protested, “and the one joke Carol Burnette made about me was funny, anyway.”

“No one should be makin’ jokes about you. I don’t care how funny they are,” he said, ending the argument.

You were aware of the incident where he was so drugged up and paranoid one night he shot each of the TVs on the wall. Not wanting a repeat of that, you kept yourself entertained with music and magazines instead. You couldn’t even go to the movies because someone would notice you. 

The last night you were in Vegas, he kept the day free to take you out shopping. It was uncomfortable, in all honesty. People would stop to peer through the windows of the half-dozen or so boutiques you had gone to, just to get a look at the king and his bride-to-be. 

Then, when you thought all you’d have to do was sit through dinner and be free of Vegas for a few months, Elvis surprised you with VIP seats to a variety show at another hotel on the strip. You showed the enthusiasm that you knew was expected of you when he told you. Sometimes you’d treat yourself to a night out, going to different variety shows either by yourself or with a few coworkers. It was always fun, but you had a sinking feeling in your stomach on the way to the hotel.

The two of you were immediately bombarded by crowds of people the second you stepped out of the car. Well, it was mostly for him, but some people gave you insincere congratulations on the engagement. You shielded your face with your hand when you noticed cameras flashing, and tugged on Elvis’ coat sleeve. He gave a final wave to the crowd, leading you inside the hotel. 

As with most hotels on the strip, it was lavish and gaudy, with a busy casino, fully stocked bar, and an auditorium for a residency. Having lived in one for so long, you figured you could probably map the place in less than five minutes of walking around. Ignoring the whispers and murmurs as the hotel’s manager led Elvis and you to your table in the auditorium, you let yourself admire the place. A waiter immediately appeared with complimentary champagne and handed you your menus.

You hardly looked at the menu when you spotted a familiar dish, and decided on that. Elvis took a bit more time, but when he closed his menu, he put his arm around you, giving you a kiss. You kissed him back, figuring you could at least try to have fun. He seemed like he was in a good mood, and you had learned to enjoy that while it lasted.

The two of you were served your food before anyone else. You picked at your meal, sticking to the champagne instead. You hoped your appetite would return at some point during the show, one of the highlights of going out with Elvis was getting to order whatever you wanted at restaurants without having to worry about the bill.

You rested your head on Elvis’ shoulder when the emcee walked onto the stage, clapping along with the rest of the audience. You knew how the variety shows went, usually a comedian to warm up the crowd, a musical act or two, showgirls, a stand-up comedian, and some comedy sketches to round out the show, not necessarily in that order. Sometimes there was a magician thrown in, which you didn’t care for since they all did the same tricks over and over.

The warm-up comedian got some solid laughs out of you, and you felt your tension ease as the other acts went on stage. The show only had one musical act for the evening, a husband and wife team who nailed all of their duets and had you and Elvis practically dancing in your seats. You let the champagne flow, feeling better as the show went on.

Next were the showgirls, adorned in sparkling leotards that perfectly caught the stage lights so when they danced, it looked like the room was covered in glittering stars. While they mostly did the classic choreographed line dances, some of them did acrobatic tricks across the stage, no small feat in heels. 

The emcee introduced the stand-up comedian for the night, someone you’d never heard of before, but figured would be good with how the rest of the show was going. He was. In fact, he had you in stitches until he got through two punchlines and then changed his tune.

“It looks like we have some very special guests tonight in the audience here, folks,” the stand-up comedian said, pointing right to where you and Elvis were sitting.

You wanted to slink down, hide beneath the table, but Elvis’ hand flew to your thigh, keeping a vice grip on it. Chattering and applause overtook the room, especially when the spotlight turned to the two of you. 

You could feel your face heat up, resisting the urge to cry. Instead you hid your face in Elvis’ chest. He moved his hand from your thigh to hold you close, while you assumed he waved and smiled at the rest of the audience.

“The king of rock n’ roll, Elvis Presley, and his bashful bride!” the comedian announced. 

Less than two weeks ago, you could be in a place like this and no one would acknowledge you. Now, wherever you went, whatever you did, turned into a spectacle. 

When you could no longer feel the heat of the spotlight on you, you sat up, and pretended to listen to the next joke in the comedian’s set.

“I’m going to the bathroom,” you whispered to Elvis.

“Alright, baby,” he said, giving you a kiss on the cheek.

You kept your head down as you made a beeline for the bathroom. Locking yourself in the nearest empty stall, you put your head in your hands, trying to catch your breath. Why did he have to do that? The night would’ve been perfect if he hadn't done that.

Finally calming yourself down enough, you left the stall to wash your hands, focusing on the swan-head faucets attached to the sink. They were pretty, but something about seeing the water flow from the open beaks seemed odd. So caught up in your own thoughts, you hadn’t realized you weren’t alone in the bathroom while you were drying your hands.

“The future Mrs. Elvis Presley, fancy running into you in here,” a girlish voice said from behind you.

You could feel your stomach tense up. “My name’s Y/N,” you said, turning around to look at her.

Dressed in a gold sequin leotard with her elaborate makeup and hair, she was one of the showgirls from earlier in the variety act. She was beautiful, but looked almost unimpressed as she put her hands on her hips, giving you a once over.

“You know, I admire you. I really do,” she said. “I mean, getting a man like that wrapped around your finger is no easy feat, especially enough to divorce the mother of his only child. I guess the unassuming act goes far, huh?”

“It’s not like that,” you said defensively.

She snickered. “Well, maybe in a few years, I’ll take a crack at it.”

Be my guest. 

As soon as she left, you ran back into the stall and threw up. You weren’t sure why her words struck you so harshly, perhaps being physically confronted with the public perception of you was a shock, as Elvis did his best to keep you blocked out from it all. Not to mention, it was like you had no identity anymore, not one outside of him anyway. No one cared about what your name was or how you felt.

You flushed your sick down the toilet, wishing you could disappear with it. Emerging from the stall yet again, you washed your hands before splashing some water on your face in a futile attempt to freshen up a little bit. You reached for the basket on the counter that had individually wrapped mints, ripped a few out of the packaging, and shoved them in your mouth. It didn’t make you feel any better, but at least you wouldn’t return with bad breath.

When you sat back down at the table, you knew you were visibly shaking. Elvis looked at you, eyebrows furrowed as your hand trembled while you picked up your glass of water, which you’d been ignoring for the champagne.

“Darlin’, you alright?” he asked, putting a hand on your shoulder.

You nodded, “I just need a ginger ale.”

“If ya don’t feel good, we can leave.”

“I don’t want to ruin the night.”

“You ain’t ruinin’ nothin’,” he said. “We’ll be back in Graceland tomorrow. The fresh air will do ya good.”

The stand-up comedian seemed to be wrapping up his set anyway, so all you’d be missing were the handful of sketches that wrapped up the evening while everyone drank coffee and paid their checks. How long had you even been in there?

Elvis escorted you out of the auditorium, and the hotel manager hastily led the two of you down a service corridor so you could leave without incident. Elvis spoke with the hotel manager while you waited for the car to pull up. As soon as it reached the curb, you practically dove into it. Elvis joined you, and the drive back to the International was uncomfortably silent.

He didn’t say much on the elevator ride up to the suite, except to check how you were feeling. As much as you hated the suite, it was at least a space that was somewhat yours. Still, you could tell he was on edge as you changed out of your clothes from the day and into your nightwear.

“Y/N, what happened back at the show?” he asked. He hadn’t changed yet, which was odd. Usually he liked the two of you to get ready for bed together.

“Something upset my stomach, is all,” you answered.

He hummed dismissively. “Yeah? You hardly touched your food.”

“The alcohol,” you stammered, “it doesn’t agree with—“

“Don’t lie to me, goddammit!” he roared, his face red, nostrils flaring as he pointed at you. “Were you in there doin’ somethin’ you weren’t supposed to do? I saw a man walk back from the bathrooms right before you did, lookin’ mighty pleased with himself.”

Your eyes widened at his accusation. “Why would I do something like that?”

“‘Cause you’re embarrassed of bein’ with me! Don’t want no big wedding, always hidin’ and coverin’ your face while we’re out together,” he spat. “Too good for your damn has-been husband.”

“You said you didn’t want me having to deal with all those people! That they’d put garbage in my head!” you argued.

He grabbed your face, squeezing your jaw so tightly you thought the rings on his fingers would break the skin on your face. “Oh, you’ve got somethin’ in your head, baby. Don’t worry, I’ll get ya all straightened out.”

You knew you were crying, with the way your vision blurred, but you could hardly tell anything else. You began to panic, and before you could even think about it, you hit him. Hard. He released your face with an unexpected force that sent you to the ground as he brought his hand to his own face in shock. If you weren’t terrified of the gun case before, you sure as hell were now. 

The next few seconds seemed to drag on for eternity, your breathing labored as you waited for his response. Drops of blood pooled in the corner of his mouth, and he collected it on one of his fingers. To your surprise, he looked down at you, a terrifying fire in his eyes.

“You don’t want this to be easy, do ya, darlin’?”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” you choked out, trying to crawl backward away from him. 

“You will be.”

He grabbed your arm, his fingers digging into the tender skin. You looked at him with fearful eyes, which amused him as he pulled you in for a painful kiss. You whimpered when he dug his teeth into your bottom lip. It was as if your act of self-preservation set off something primal, animalistic in him. His vice grip was doing you no favors, and you didn’t want to start thinking about how you were going to cover those bruises with the wedding coming up.

When he threw you onto the bed, you couldn’t tell if it was your blood or his on your arm. Regardless, seeing the blood smeared on your body sent you into yet another state of panic, and you began kicking wildly as he climbed over you, unbuckling his belt. 

“I was wrong. I’m sorry,” you pleaded.

“I have half a mind to tan your hide,” he growled, ripping your panties down so they were between your knees. “I never hit you, have I? But you get one chance to and you fuckin’ take a swing at me, huh?”

“It was a mistake. I shouldn’t have done it.”

“It’s a mistake you’re never gonna make again, darlin’,” he said, venom dripping from the term of endearment. “I’ve been too nice. Let you think you run things around here.”

“No, no I–”

He held you down, his face inches from yours. “Sometimes I think I love you too much.”

You almost had to laugh. Almost. The wicked grin that spread across his face when he reached down, feeling the wetness between your legs. Without hesitation, you moaned at the feeling, but he brought his fingers up just as quickly, sticking them in his mouth and sucking your juices off of them. Your mouth hung open as you watched him, and he looked smug when he pulled his fingers out of his mouth.

“Guess you do too,” he teased, kissing you.

Tasting yourself on his lips, it was too much–too vulgar or too intimate, you didn’t know, but everything from there was like watching a movie out of order. You couldn’t remember when he’d done what or when. At some point he’d gotten undressed and tore your lingerie to pieces. You could feel that he’d finished in you multiple times, and your ass felt like hell. 

“Rise and shine, darlin’. Graceland’s waitin’ for us,” he said, as you blinked awake.

Part of you was surprised to actually wake up, he’d been so wild the night before you were sure he’d kill you. Instead, you felt the familiar aches and bruises from the first night he, well, you didn’t want to think about it. You slowly sat up to see him looking at you with a handsome smile on his face, his eyes lighting up when they met yours.

You looked at the cut that was on his top lip where your hand had made contact. It was small, but still visible to anyone who really took the time to look. Your fingers hovered over it, your chest felt tight. He kissed your fingers before taking your hand in his.

“We’re gonna move past last night, alright? I just get a little jealous is all. I don’t wanna lose you.” he said calmly, as if his behavior was normal. “I love you.”

“Okay,” you whispered, not missing the pointed look he gave you before adding, “I love you too.”

He gave you a kiss, and you could feel the cut against your lips.

“Does it hurt, honey?” you asked, your habit of caring for him kicking in. 

“No, I’m just gonna tell people I cut myself shavin’,” he said.

“I can dress it. There’s peroxide in the cabinet—“

“Baby, it’s fine. All I’m concerned about it gettin’ back home with you.”

Most of the stuff in the suite that would be going with you to Graceland had been packed in the days before. All that was left was what you were wearing, the few toiletries still in the bathroom, and the clothes you’d shoved into a carry-on. While there wasn’t a set schedule to return to Memphis, everyone wanted to go sooner rather than later, and you weren’t about to hold anyone up.

The two hour plane ride to Memphis was actually pretty fun. You played cards with some of the Memphis Mafia while Elvis spoke with his father. You lost horribly in each round, but everyone was cracking jokes and talking. It felt like back when everything was normal. 

You knew the airport would be a circus when the plane landed, but you weren’t expecting the sheer amount of people that threatened to spill over onto the runway. Elvis waved to the fans, who were screaming and wailing in a way that was almost biblical. He kept his hand on the small of your back, ushering you into one of the cars that was waiting near the plane. 

In theory, it should have been a quick drive to Graceland, but it ended up taking almost double the amount of time because of how many people were crowding the car at nearly every intersection. You knew Elvis loved his fans, he told you over and over again how grateful he was, after all, you’d been one too. You could tell, though, that he was getting tired, and you held his hand in an attempt to comfort him. He gave you a grateful smile, kissing your hand. 

After what felt like hours, you arrived at Graceland, the gates slowly opening as the car inched forward so it wouldn’t run anyone over. You almost considered getting out right there and just walking up to the mansion, but thought better of it. Once the car passed through the gates, it pulled up to the front door, and you wasted no time in getting out of the car.

“Home sweet home,” Elvis said as he opened the door for you. 

You were never more glad to be at Graceland. Even though you knew it was just the same prison with a different look, you were exhausted and welcomed the privacy it afforded. Of course, the calm would be over again in the next few days as the usual crew of friends and family made their way over to use Graceland as their stomping grounds, and you had to plan a wedding. 

For now, though, Elvis was as tired as you were, and the two of you made your way upstairs. The energy in the familiar house shifted as you stood in the doorway of the master bedroom.

You’d never actually been alone with him in his bedroom at Graceland before. You always stayed in a guest room in another part of the house, and he usually conducted business in the living room or dining room. The only times you’d gone in before was with Priscilla to let her do your hair and makeup, or sometimes she’d give you pieces from her overflowing closet. 

It was similar to his suite at the International in its style and the color scheme throughout. You approached Priscilla’s closet–no, it was yours now–slowly, cautiously, as if something would jump out at you the second you opened it. Instead, when you slid the door aside, you saw your clothes hanging up neatly, the shoe rack filled with your shoes. 

“Honey, where’s the, um–my–” you didn’t know how to word it. Nothing in that room was yours. “My sleep stuff.”

“Intimates should be in one of the dresser drawers,” he said, as he changed into a robe. “Though I’d prefer if ya wore nothin’ at all.”

You hated how your face heated up at his teasing. You walked over to the dresser and found what you were looking for in the middle drawer, grabbing the set that was on top. 

Hastily, you changed, as to not keep Elvis waiting while he sat on the bed. He opened his arms when you approached, and you settled in beside him, nestled next to his chest. He held you close, kissing the crown of your head.

“I love you,” he whispered.

“Why?”

“Why what?”

"Why do you love me?" you asked.

You knew what he felt for you wasn’t love, but rather a manifestation of misplaced obsession and fear. Still, you needed to know—why me?

"No one else knows me like you do, takes the time to talk with me and check on me," he said softly, as if lost in his thoughts. "You always take care of me. When I met you, no one had done that for a long time. Mama died after I left for basic, and I had to be the one to hold everything together for the family, halfway ‘cross the world by my lonesome and line everyone else’s pockets."

You nodded, listening to his explanation of his behavior, trying desperately to understand where you fit into this. Out of everyone in his entourage, you’d known him for the least amount of time in comparison.

"You’ve never asked me for a thing, ya know that? Everyone else it’s clothes and cars and god knows what else, and I don’t mind it, I take care of my own. You don’t want anything outta me. If I lose you, I think I’ll lose myself," he said, taking a long pause before adding, "I wish you’d met my mama. I think she woulda liked you."

There it was, that vulnerability that made you feel bad for him. Him of all people. The childhood of hardship and abandonment that was was only held together by his mother, the stabilizing figure in his life, who he’d lost far too soon. It was what made you feel like you needed to take care of him in the first place, that beneath this larger than life man was a sad and lonely boy. You knew that this was far from the truth, as more than anything else it was likely the root of the abandonment issues that evolved into the disaster of an Oedipus complex you found yourself the object of, but your heart still ached for him. Fuck. Now you were crying.

He had you so mixed up in your feelings you didn’t even know if he was playing up what he knew you wanted to hear, or was sharing all of this with you. His expression was unreadable as he observed you crying into your hands. A few moments later, he slammed his fist against the headboard, making you flinch.

"What? Was that not good enough for you?" he snapped.

"No," you choked out. "No, I just—I don’t understand."

"What don’t you understand? I love you, goddammit! You act so ungrateful sometimes it does my head in!"

"Love doesn’t look like this, Elvis!"

"How would you know?" he spat out, his venomous words biting your heart. "No one’s ever loved you right, ‘cept me."

"Stop," you mumbled. "I’m sorry."

"Now tell me why you love me," he demanded.

You wiped the tears from your face, sniffling as you looked at him. His expression was still hostile, but you could remember every smile and wink he ever gave you. You thought back to before all of this happened, what made you love him in the first place, feel so devoted to him despite all of the warning signs.

"Being there for you, taking care of you, it felt like the most important thing in the world, because you make me feel like I matter. You’re kind even when people don’t deserve it. Generous to a fault. I mean, you made the whole world fall in love with you. How could I not?" you explained.

You struggled to find the words to properly express yourself further, moving your hands as a placeholder to collect your thoughts. "The way you dream, make the impossible seem like it can become reality, it’s incredible. When we first met you said you were gonna travel the world, how you wanted to spread your wings and fly. I wanted to fly with you."

“We can still fly, Y/N.”

“Where, Elvis? Where else is there to go?” 

"You and me, to the Rock of Eternity," he whispered. 

You glanced down at your engagement ring. Seems like he already got that covered. 

“Well, we can go tomorrow. I’m tired now, and I know there’s gonna be stuff to do in the morning,” you said, feigning a yawn.

“You’re lucky you got such a great boss; he gave ya the week off to spend with your fiance,” he said, eliciting a laugh from you. 

“Yeah, he’s a real stand-up guy,” you smiled.

You wished he could always be like this, kind and playful, not the unpredictable lover you’d come to fear. You couldn’t understand how so much had changed in a few weeks, and yet in that moment it felt like nothing had. You would have been glad to marry this Elvis, your best friend. Whether or not that man had ever existed was a mystery, but you knew your life would be over the second you said ‘I do’ to the man you were sitting next to.

Taglist: @re3kin, @bobthefishiesworld, @ninebluehearts, @angryinternetmoon, @ratty-mcfatty, @pumkiinpasties, @dark-as-love, @im-lame-irl, @bobbykennedyfan, @queendelrey​, @kaiabanslajabaj 

[neoculturetravesty]

We met in online class - Part 9

Image adapted from here.

Pairing: Renjun x Reader Genre: College AU, romance, angst, fluff Warnings: Strong language, fist fight, a character has Covid-19 Word Count: 5.2k

Navigation: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | You are on Part 9 | Part 10 | Last Part

A/N: So proud of the boys for breaking records with Hot Sauce 🥺💛  Also, Eid Mubarak to all who celebrate!

Renjun is ashamed to be surprised, but his friends remain true to their word.

That night, Renjun slept for what he’s sure was a good fourteen hours. Because by the time he woke, it was way in the afternoon. Jaemin was already back from his shift and Jeno was almost halfway through his. Jisung had insisted that Renjun get some more rest before he had to take over. It was a tiny bit disconcerting to have Jisung hovering over him the entire day to make sure he was eating and feeling okay, but Renjun had to admit--this was exactly what he needed. He didn’t like who he was when he was alone.

The boys had apparently even created a dedicated group chat where they would post updates and a list of things that were required at the hospital. Not that there was much required, anyway. But the boys would make sure that at the very least, Renjun’s mom had fresh clothes and home cooked food everyday while she couldn’t get out herself. Jaemin had even taken Renjun’s phone and gotten it fixed so he at least had a proper screen instead of a cracked one.

Even when Renjun was sure that he could take over on his own, the boys wouldn’t allow it. On many occasions, he had just stayed by them during their turns, thankful for their company and their friendship. Because who else in this world would spend their semester break in this fashion? He’s pretty sure they had plans; but they had forsaken them all to be there for him. 

Renjun has no idea how it happens, but slowly and surely, things start to get better. He’s pretty certain it has to be some sort of a miracle. Like a little break of sunshine had finally decided to shine on him through the dark clouds. Like somehow, his guardian angel had decided that it had slacked off for long enough and now it should give Renjun a break. Because one day, the doctors tell them that Renjun’s grandmother will be a lot weaker for the next few days to come… but with a lot of care and attention, she should be ready to go home. They echo Renjun’s thoughts and tell them that it is nothing short of a miracle, but also that he should be thankful that his grandmother is still young and has a fighting spirit.

The day she is taken off of life support and brought into another room with a window through which he can see her, Renjun can’t hold himself back. He hugs onto Jaemin so tight and cries happy tears, and Jaemin holds him back just as strong, though he’s sure that he’s so overwhelmed by relief that he’s putting all of his weight onto the boy. But Jaemin doesn’t relent and holds onto him and lets him cry tears of joy into his shoulder.

The boys head home that night and laugh till they cry and celebrate Renjun’s grandma’s life and health. They eat like they had been hungry for days and slump their shoulders in ease like they had been keeping them tense for too long. They laugh and they sit together and keep letting out long sighs of relief, as if each breath was undoing a knot in their chest. It’s a sweet, victorious sort of a happy moment, and it is Jeno who has to remind them they need to focus now more than ever so that Renjun’s grandma can get her strength back and finally test negative. And it is an important reminder because the new semester is about to begin soon and given classes, they will have to redo their hospital visit schedules.

At the very least, they learn that the new semester would begin online, because the sudden surge in Covid cases had led them to another lockdown. Renjun’s not sure whether he should be happy or upset about it. On the one hand, he thinks this lockdown should’ve happened earlier so his grandma would’ve never gotten sick in the first place. On the other hand, he is happy that his grandma would now be safe and recover comfortably. 

When classes begin and Renjun finds all his housemates at home, his heart drops a little and he wonders if he should just skip today. But an amused Jeno mutes himself during his online class and stops him.

“You have other friends, too, you know?” Jeno cocks an eyebrow at him.

“Yeah, but I’m sure they have classes, too. Plus, the four of us have been doing this from the beginning, so… I don’t know…” Renjun says, rubbing the back of his neck, feeling a bit nervous about leaving his mother and grandma on their own without help. But Jeno looks at him like he’s talking gibberish.

“Dude. Not the four of us. All seven of us have been doing this from the very beginning.” Jeno says, eyebrow still cocked, looking at Renjun like he’s sure he’s lost his mind.

Renjun looks up and for a moment, he is sure his face looks dumb. Because if the buffering wheel was a human expression, Renjun’s certain he’s wearing it now. “All… seven?”

“Do you even check the group chat? Chenle and Mark and Donghyuck. They’ve all been doing their duty from Day 1, you idiot. How else would the rest of us come home so early?” Jeno scoffs and laughs a bit, knotting his eyebrows at his clueless friend.

For a moment, Renjun is silenced. Because he doesn’t know how to process this information. He feels a swell in his chest. A sort of happiness that only true friendship brings. But at the same time, he feels an incredible pang of guilt, because for one, he is an asshole that keeps underestimating the said friendship. And for the other, he had done absolutely nothing to be deserving of such love. 

“Dong… Donghyuck, too?” Renjun asks and he feels his heart breaking, though even in this surreal moment of realization, he recognizes how strange it is to feel heartbreak over something like this.

“Of course, you idiot. Donghyuck was the one that stayed at the hospital the entire first night when you were asleep.” Jeno tells him and smacks him lightly on the head.

And for the first time in his life, Renjun actually feels what it is like to have his head physically hang in shame. “I don’t deserve it.” he sighs.

“I really don’t understand you sometimes, Huang Renjun.” Jeno says and turns his attention back to his class.

“What do you mean?” Renjun retorts.

“Just because friends have a dumb fight, doesn’t mean they abandon each other in times of need.” Jeno states like it is the most obvious thing in the world.

It should be simple and obvious, everything Jeno has said. But to Renjun, it is groundbreaking. Because Renjun wasn’t used to being loved and cared for without condition. In his dark and convoluted view of the world, everything was give and take. You scratch my back, I scratch yours. But here they were--his friends that were shattering all of those dumbass beliefs. Telling him that although he had been a grade A asshole and punched them in the face, they understood that he was going through some shit, and that taking care of his sick grandmother trumped all other childish grudges. Renjun realizes that perhaps, he was the most childish out of all his friends. Somewhere in his turbulent childhood, he might have skipped a lot of emotional development. Because why else would the kindness and love of his friends shock him so?

Jeno peeks over the top of his laptop and watches Renjun deep in thought, paying no attention to his own class. “He’s at the hospital right now.” Jeno says knowingly.

And that’s all Renjun needs to hear before he slams his laptop shut and makes his way out.

The fact that Renjun is probably a few steps behind in his emotional development is solidified when he sits next to Donghyuck on a park bench and suddenly finds himself at a loss for what to say.

The rush of blood and adrenaline he had felt in his veins leaving his house for his apology tour seemed to have faded when he saw his friend’s face. Donghyuck had been sitting next to Renjun’s father, but that hadn’t been the bothersome part. It was the fact that his friend was sitting there for him, but with a black eye that Renjun had given him. 

In the grand scheme of healing black eyes, Donghyuck definitely looked less hurt than the last time Renjun had seen him. The purples were mostly gone, leaving behind hues of yellow and a speck of blue here and there. Though he may have been healing, there were more colors on him than before and that’s what made him look worse. That’s also the part that makes Renjun feel most ashamed. His friend was here for him even though he looked like shit thanks to him.

Renjun is sure that on the list of top ten assholes of the world, he would find his own name on top.

But sitting next to Donghyuck outside in the fresh air, he has no idea what to say. He thinks real hard and decides to start in the safe zone.

“Did the guys tell you? About my grandma?” he asks.

“Um, no. It was Jimin.” Donghyuck replies awkwardly.

Renjun nods. “I, uh… I told the guys like a day later, though. Did you tell them before I did?”

“No, um… I was at a party with the 127s… I didn’t see her text till like the next day either, so…” Donghyuck trails off.

Renjun nods again, then swallows. It’s so strange, how awkward this all is. It is unsettling because Donghyuck is the least awkward person he knows, and he hates that this weird zone is where their relationship seems to be heading.

Not if he can help it.

In another rush of dumbass adrenaline, Renjun gets up abruptly and stands before Donghyuck.

“Go on. Do it.” Renjun says and takes a deep breath.

“Huh?” Donghyuck looks at his friend quizzically.

“Do it. Just make it quick.” Renjun nods with determination and points at his face.

“You’re crazy.” Donghyuck states and slides further away on the bench, eyebrows raised, and a grimace on his mouth.

“Just do it, man. Do it so we can move on.” Renjun says, placing both hands on his waist and squeezing his eyes shut.

“I’m not going to punch you so you can move on, you psycho.” Donghyuck’s face is contorted, like he’s scandalized and perhaps even slightly scared of his friend. 

“Come on, Donghyuckie. Just punch me and get it over with.” Renjun waves his hand impatiently, not relenting.

“Are you not hearing me, you crazy? I’m not punching you just to make you feel better!” Donghyuck almost yells.

And because Renjun is pretty sure this would work, he grabs at Donghyuck’s collar just to provoke him.

“What the fuck?!” Donghyuck tries to push Renjun off of him.

“Hit me!” Renjun shouts.

“No, are you fucking crazy! Get off me!” Donghyuck grabs at the sleeves of Renjun’s jacket and tries to pry him off. 

“Not till you hit me!” Renjun insists, clinging onto the boy, grabbing and pulling at him to annoy him best he can to get a reaction.

“I’m not going to hit you!” Donghyuck yells. The two boys spin in inelegant, rough circles on the grass, trying to push and pull at one another.

“Punch me or you got no balls!” Renjun yowls and then finally feels the blow to his face that sends him flying to the ground.

He pauses for a bit because his head spins for a solid ten seconds. He shakes it vigorously to get it to focus and it helps because then he looks up to find a very startled and distressed Donghyuck looking down at him, fist still raised in the air.

“That had more throw than power.” Renjun comments, massaging his jaw.

“Yeah, that’s what I was going for.” Donghyuck agrees. 

For a moment both boys nod and look at each other, acknowledging the technique and form of the punch. And then, they burst into laughter because fuck, all of this was so stupid. Renjun rolls on the grass and Donghyuck doubles over as he stands. Then he offers Renjun his hand to help him get up, which he takes eagerly, using it to lift up and fling himself into his friend’s arms. They hold each other strongly, thumping one another on the back. And just like that, the awkwardness is gone. All that was meant to be said has been said and now Renjun is no longer struggling to find his words. They come easily, because all of this is so natural. He was with his best friend, after all.

“You are a crazy motherfucker, you know that, right?” Donghyuck comments, shaking his head as they sit back down on the bench.

Renjun chuckles, then looks at the grass, because his head hangs in shame again. “I’m a sorry motherfucker.”

Donghyuck puts an arm around Renjun and thumps his back again. “You should be sorry, you dumb fuck. But also, you’ve got a pretty toxic coping mechanism, you know that, right?”

Renjun sighs long “I know. The longer I think about it, the dumber I feel.”

He expects his friend to make a joke in return but he feels his hesitation. So he looks up and finds Donghyuck trying to think of what to say. “Have you ever thought about… like sorting that out, maybe?” he finally asks.

“Sorting it out?” Renjun asks, confused.

“Like... you know this isn’t normal, right?” Donghyuck asks, and he doesn’t sound like he’s mocking. His tone doesn’t have the slightest hint of a joke and that’s what makes Renjun realize what he’s talking about.

“No… no, I haven’t…” Renjun admits. He doesn’t know why he’s never thought about ‘sorting it out’. Perhaps because he’s always thought he was smarter than anyone who could offer him help.

“You could give it a try. Talking to someone really helps sometimes, you know? Getting help can help.” Donghyuck says carefully.

Renjun bites his lip. He knows his friend is right, but he’s never really, truly given it a thought. Donghyuck senses his discomfort and changes the subject.

“Your grandma is finally getting tested again tomorrow.” he says as he stretches.

Renjun smiles “Yeah. I honestly can’t believe it…” he looks at his best friend “... but I also don’t know if I’ll ever be able to thank you…”

Donghyuck frowns and shakes Renjun by the shoulder “Stop it before I throw up.”

“I mean it.”

“I’ll throw up even if you mean it.”

“Donghyuck…”

“Okay, really, stop. Also, I’m not even the one you should be thanking. Or apologizing to.” Donghyuck sits back after he’s had his fill of shaking Renjun.

“Of course, you’re the one I should be thanking and apologizing to, you stupid. You did all of this for me even when I was an absolute asshole to you.” Renjun presses.

“You are an asshole, but you’re also a dumb asshole.” Donghyuck declares.

“Hey, I’m trying to apologize nicely, here.” Renjun pouts and his friend lets out a long, exasperated sigh.

“I thought you were just being obtuse but you seriously don’t know…” Donghyuck shakes his head.

“Know what?” Renjun asks and Donghyuck shrugs and acts like a little shit which annoys Renjun, but at the same time fills him with relief. Because Donghyuck being a little shit to him means their friendship has been restored to its original state. But he asks again “Know what?!”

“Dude, no offense or anything, but did you really think your parents can put your grandma in a private room all on their own?” Donghyuck asks.

Renjun stops a bit. He’d been so worried about the fact that his grandma’s life was hanging by a thread that he hadn’t even thought about the expenses part. He knows his grandma had a little bit in savings, but his parents for sure didn’t earn that much. Come to think of it, he hadn’t even realized that this was one of the nicer hospitals around.

“Fuck it, I’m really going to have to spell it out for you. Since your brain doesn’t seem to be working.” Donghyuck sighs dramatically.

“What?”

“Dude. This is Y/N’s parents’ hospital. Your mother couldn’t possibly keep taking care of your grandma all on her own, now could she? When Y/N found out, she went crazy. She made her parents direct all their best resources into taking care of your grandma.”

For a while, the information hangs in the air.

Renjun had thought that he would never get to feel things that were new and unexplainable ever again. He thought he had experienced every single feeling his body had to offer. The past month alone had put him through more emotions than he had experienced in his whole life. He had seen it all, felt it all.

But what he’s experiencing right now doesn’t feel like gratitude or shame or longing or anything one should expect to feel in a situation like this. It just feels like a soft light has filled his chest and is lifting him in the air. He feels like he’s floating, like he’s having an out of body experience. 

“Oh,” is the only thing he can manage to say.

And then he remembers your face. He hadn’t realized it then, but he sees now how badly he had wanted to see you that night. He had wanted no one but you to hold him and kiss him and tell him that he wasn’t alone. And he remembers how he couldn’t tell you any of that. He remembers how you had walked away with another man. 

And that makes him come back to earth. He feels a resigned sort of sadness.

“Y/N is… she would do that for anybody, wouldn’t she?” Renjun smiles sadly.

“She probably would. But you should’ve seen how worried she was. Even now, she is on the phone everyday with her parents, making sure they’re doing everything they can. She didn’t want what happened to her grandmother to happen to yours.” Donghyuck tells him.

Renjun looks up “What happened to her grandmother?”

Donghyuck raises his eyebrows. “She passed away from Covid last year?” His eyebrows go higher still “She says she’s told you about this?”

Renjun thinks, and then it’s as if a veil on his memory is slowly but poorly being lifted. He remembers laying his head on your shoulder. He remembers feeling your shirt dampen from his tears. He remembers your fingers drawing relaxing patterns in his hair. He remembers your soothing voice, speaking to him with such tenderness that Renjun had barely heard your words and had focused instead on it’s sweet tones. But now, when Renjun is forcing himself to think, he very foggily recalls what you had been saying. You had been telling him about your own grandmother. Why hadn’t Renjun listened? Why did Renjun never listen when you spoke? He was such a selfish, arrogant fool. He wishes he could go back and change it all. 

Donghyuck shakes his head. “Are you really….” he sighs again, “Nevermind. But yeah, she basically went nuts because she couldn’t be here with you.”

Renjun’s heart is aching and he’s pretty sure his face reflects it. “I wish I could take it all back. Everything I did to her.”

“You can take it back.” Donghyuck says.

“How?” 

“Apologize to her, you dummy.” Donghyuck smacks the back of his head.

“How? I tried calling her once but she didn’t pick up.” Renjun admits.

“Then you should call her again and again and again till it sticks.” Donghyuck says plainly and it makes so much fucking sense that Renjun is embarrassed that he hadn’t thought it.

“Yeah, but…” Renjun swallows, “... it doesn’t really matter now, does it?”

“What do you mean?” Donghyuck asks.

“She’s with Wong Hendery now. So…” Renjun can’t even complete the thought.

“What do you mean she’s with Wong Hendery?” Donghyuck scrunches his brows deep in his forehead in confusion.

“She left with him for the semester break. I went to see her… but she left with him…” Renjun presses his lips together.

“Wait…” Donghyuck says and Renjun looks up and nods at him as if to confirm the fact. But he sees something entirely different on his friend’s face. It’s an expression of deep dumbfoundedness. “... are you some sort of an idiot?” He asks like Renjun is the dimmest person he has ever come across.

And Renjun doesn’t help his cause because he only blinks in return.

“Dude! She’s not ‘with Wong Hendery,’” Donghyuck gets up and smacks Renjun across the head once again. “They’re partners on the SMK Trainee Drive. She’s literally been preparing for this for months? Shouldn’t you know this?”

Renjun blinks some more. SMK Trainee Drive? Renjun had heard and personally seen you preparing for interviews and these drives. But somehow a lot of it hadn’t registered in his brain. Once again, probably because he never listened to you well. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, he was an idiot. He was the biggest idiot on the planet.

Yet right now, he was a smiling idiot whose heart was suddenly filling with hope. “She’s not… with… she’s not with Hendery?” Renjun is embarrassed. He feels so fucking stupid asking this, but he absolutely can’t help the smile spreading across his face.

“She’s literally at the tower right now. She’s been stuck because we went into lockdown whilst she was there. It’s why she couldn’t come and see you. But the highway doesn’t open for another week, so she’ll be stuck till then.” Donghyuck explains, and Renjun feels his heart exploding with joy at every word. He’s pretty sure he’s grinning shamelessly. 

“Why do I know more about your girlfriend than you do? Oh wait. It's because 'she's not your girlfriend.’” Donghyuck does a perfectly exaggerated mimicry of Renjun that reminds him of that one SpongeBob meme. On a normal day, he would’ve wanted to smack his friend for doing this. But in this moment, he is all too happy to be the one being smacked and mocked.

Renjun laughs with relief, then finds his laugh fading a bit. “Do you think she’ll forgive me? For everything I did?”

“I don’t know, man. But you wouldn’t know unless you try.” Donghyuck once again states something that should be obvious.

“How do I try if she’s not picking up my calls? And when she won’t even be here for another week?” Renjun sulks a bit but gets smacked in the head again.

“Dude! She literally did everything in the world to help your grandma, and she was in a wholeass different city! She did that all for you! I’m sure you can figure out a simple apology.” Donghyuck has his arms crossed and is now seriously looking agitated with him and it makes Renjun smile.

“She really did that for me?” Renjun asks and he doesn’t even care if he sounds like a cheesy motherfucker. He doesn’t even care he’s being this way in front of Lee Donghyuck who probably won’t let him live it down for the rest of his life.

“Of course she did that for you, you idiot.” Renjun earns another smack at the end of that.

“Does she like me?” Renjun asks like a stupid, hopeful teenage boy.

Donghyuck pretends to gag and moves away in disgust. But then he sees Renjun’s expression and lets out a long, irritated exhale. “Of course she likes you, you dumb fuck.” Renjun gets hit in the head, “Why would she do all of this if she didn’t like you?” Renjun gets another smack, “Oh Lord, please give me the strength to not commit murder. I am not your strongest soldier…” Donghyuck looks up at the sky and Renjun laughs openly, freely and lightly. He feels as if all the knots in his chest are slowly being undone one by one. So he jumps up and tries to tackle and cuddle Donghyuck but he keeps moving away. The two boys run around in the ground, Renjun chasing Donghyuck, trying to attack him with his love while he complains that his hair smells.

And Renjun accepts all his insults with a newly healed heart. You liked him. Despite everything that he’d done to you, you liked him. You had worried about him and done everything in your power to help his grandma. You had kept tabs on her and made sure she was healing even though you were miles away. You liked him, and you weren’t with a new guy and you liked him.

As he walks back towards the hospital with his arm around his best friend’s shoulders, he decides that if it came to it that he had to beg and grovel for your forgiveness, he would happily spend the rest of his life on his knees. Because you liked him and Renjun was never going to let you go ever again.

True to his word (for maybe the first time in your relationship), Renjun spends the rest of the week trying to reach you. Because his apology tour wouldn’t be complete without his most important stop--you.

He calls you so many times; but each time, he only gets to hear the dial tone and the mechanical voice telling him that the user is unreachable at the moment. You never pick up.

But his mind and his spirit is fueled by Donghyuck’s advice, and this time, the advice is a lot more sound and a lot less exploitative. So, Renjun doesn’t give up because he has to make it stick. You had never given up on him. He wasn’t going to give up on you. When he’s sure you won’t pick up his calls, he leaves you a string of messages.

‘Hey, Y/N. I’m trying to call you. Please pick up?’

‘I know you have every right to be mad at me, but I just need a chance to apologize.’

‘I’m seriously the biggest idiot in the world, but I need to tell you that in person.’ 

‘Okay, I’m coming to you.’

‘Turns out I can’t just negotiate with the police to let me cross the city lines to get to the girl I like.’

‘Y/N, please…’

‘I’m the world’s sorriest and the most embarrassed motherfucker and I need to hear your voice to tell you that.’

‘I am Berry-Berry sorry, and I’m just asking for one chance to get to talk to you.

‘I’m not going to stop, you know?’

He has to admit that his patience is wearing thin. Because he’s trying every method and none of it is working; and also because his pride had never allowed him to beg and grovel to anyone before. It’s a humbling experience, but at the same time, he doesn’t feel burdened by it. This was for you. The girl who had done everything in her power to make him fall. The girl who had given him more love and kindness than anyone else in the world had. The girl who had taken his troubles and worries as her own. So, of course, he had to do everything in his power to earn your forgiveness.

But as he’s sitting in his room, trying to call you for what he’s sure is the twentieth time that day, he hears that your phone has been powered off. For a moment, Renjun feels immensely dispirited. Maybe he had lost you for good. Maybe you never wanted to hear from him ever again. Maybe this is what he deserved.

But in the next moment, Renjun stops himself. No. He wasn’t going to let his mind spiral that way again. He had to think with a good, clear mind. He couldn’t sit around and sulk without knowing he had explored all possible options. He needed to get creative and for that, he needed to think.

He could certainly wait it out till the week was over and when you’d be back. But he wanted to spend each passing minute letting you know that he was trying. So, that wasn’t an option.

Maybe he could look at the map and find some loopholes and secret passageways across the city. Surely, some of them had to be unmanned so he could break the lockdown law and get to you? That would certainly be impactful, being locked up in jail as a grand gesture of an apology. But Renjun was no action hero.

Renjun sits and thinks and thinks and thinks till a light bulb finally goes off. Of course. A grand gesture. He yells into his pillow out of excitement and frustration that he hadn’t thought of this before. If one thing had been established during this time, it was the fact that Renjun was a dumb fuck with a penchant for being blind to the obvious. 

He gets up bright and early the next morning and rushes to see your friend at her apartment. He sits beside her as her online class starts, away from the camera view and finds his heart filling with the utmost warmth as he sees your window finally appear on the screen. Even in the tiny box, you looked so freaking beautiful that for a minute, Renjun stops and stares as butterflies take over his belly. But he taps his cheek to get himself to focus. He was here on a mission.

He waits for the class to begin before he slides himself into view next to your friend and types out a message on the chat that had taken him all night to prepare. He hits ‘Send to Everyone’ and waits.

And thankfully, the professor--miraculously the same professor who had done this the very first time all that time ago--stops to read it out,

“This might be a long shot, but Y/N L/N, do you think you can find it in your heart to give me another chance?” he begins, squinting his eyes slightly in confusion as he reads on, then smiling as realization hits. “Well, that’s certainly not a question from Ms. Kim Minjeong, I can tell you that.” he jokes and waits because as it had before, this has piqued the students’ interest.

Renjun watches as your pretty eyes widen. He watches them skirt across your screen, seemingly looking for the cause of the commotion. He watches the moment of realization hitting your pretty face. And he waits.

“Well, Ms. Y/N L/N, are you going to put the young man out of his misery?” the professor jokes kindly and Renjun thinks he might die from the anticipation.

And then, he watches as you move to unmute yourself.

“Yeah, I guess I could give him another chance,” you say nonchalantly which earns you a round of applause and hoots from all other windows. Because college students will always love dramatic antics.

The professor calls the class back to attention and Renjun sits back in his chair, grinning like an idiot because the girl he had fallen for had given him another chance.

Copyright © 2021 NeoCultureTravesty. All rights reserved.

[erule]

The frat party | t.h.

Title: The frat party

Pairing: Frat boy!Tom Holland x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1859

Warnings: OC Elizabeth (Lizzie), fake dating/relationship trope, language, fluff

Summary: Tom and the reader met at a frat party, but a year later they broke up because of some reason. Now, rumor has it that the reader is dating one of Tom’s friends and he gets jealous.

A/N: Hello hello, enjoy the new chapter! Sorry for the waiting, guys, but I hope that I made it up to you. Just let me know your thoughts about this chapter!

If you wanna be tagged in my Tom Holland fics, just let me know in my ask box! You can also find me on AO3 and Wattpad. Feedback is always appreciated by a writer!

Taglist: @webmeupspiderdaddy​

Read chapter 1 here!

Main Masterlist

Tom Holland Masterlist

Peter Parker Masterlist

Story under the cut!

Chapter 2

Rumor has it

“So, guys, rumor has it that…”

“Stop!” Tom exclaimed, interrupting Harrison. “Everytime you say that sentence, something hurts me and I really wanna miss that opportunity today. I’m already angry at myself because of what happened with Oliver,” he said, lighting a cigarette while sitting on the edge of his bed.

“Smoking makes you even more annoying than usual, Tom,” Harrison said. Tom sighed.

“Oliver makes me like that. He’s still flirting with Y/N, even if he should know by now that she’s mine. I mean, she will be mine again. My girl,” he said, with a soft smile on his face. “Ouch”.

“Still hurts?”

“Yeah, a bit,” Tom answered, brushing his bottom lip where Oliver hurt him.

Jacob suddenly opened the door, a big smile on his face. Tom and Harrison looked at him with suspicion.

“What happened, Jacob?” Harrison asked.

“So, rumor has it that…”

“Oh, fuck me,” Tom sighed, laying his back on the bed. Harrison chuckled.

“I was saying: rumor has it, that there will be a huge frat party at the end of the year to celebrate the older students like us, that will graduate soon and Lizzie asked me to come with her,” he said, happily.

“Lizzie as in Elizabeth? Y/N’s friend?” Tom asked and Jacob nodded.

“She looked a lot like Y/N last year, I thought they were twins. Now she has changed her hair color, at least,” Harrison said.

“The most important things is that she likes me!” Jacob exclaimed. “Be happy for me just once, guys. I deserve it”.

“You’re right Jacob, you do,” Tom said, giving him a pat on his back.

Somebody knocked at the door. Harrison went to open it and found someone who Tom would have been very glad to see. In fact, he jumped from the bed instantly, throwing the unlit cigarette in the trash.

“Hey darling, what are you doing here?”

You sighed, looking at him.

“I have an unseemly proposal for you and you can’t say no”.

“A fake relationship?”

After Tom had sent his friends away, you sat down on his bed in front of him to discuss about the details.

“Look, I didn’t want to do this, but Oliver’s still flirting with me and I have to cut this. He would leave me alone only if he’d see that we’re back together, I’m sure of it. Also, you literally proposed this to me last time, so… Wow, that’s really unpleasant. It must hurt,” you said suddenly, staring at his lip. You moved a hand to reach the wound, but then you stopped. You gazed at him. “Can I?”

Tom nodded. So you brushed it with your fingertip, thinking about how much it costed him to protect you even after your break up. How much it hurt. You swallowed, melancholy threatening to eat you alive. He had closed his eyes for a second. A very long second. Like you at the party. Maybe standing this close to him wasn’t a good idea.

“Y/N…”

“So, what do you think?” You asked, withdrawing your arm.

Tom shrugged.

“I agree,” he said.

“Just like that? You don’t want something in return?”

“As you said, I suggested it in the first place, so I totally agree with it,” he said. Then, he got dangerously close to you, so close that you thought he wanted to kiss you on the lips – and, in fact, he smirked –, but he didn’t. He left you a light kiss on your cheek instead, before whispering these words in your ear: “I’m gonna get you back, Y/N. One way or another,”

You ran away from there like a wolf was chasing you to eat you.

***

You were looking at Zendaya, hands clasped in prayer, begging her to help you. You and Tom had decided to go out as in a date in order to convince Oliver that the two of you were, in fact, back together. Lizzie was already somewhere with Jacob, so you had just Zendaya left to pick the outfit for the evening. She didn’t like that kind of stuff, mostly because because didn’t agree to your plan, but you were too desperate to let it go. She would have helped you at the end. Well, that was your hope anyway.

“Please, Z,” you basically begged her.

She rolled her eyes, arms crossed, but then she nodded. You tried to give her a kiss, but she moved away.

“You know what? This will be a dumb outfit for a dumb plan,” she said, while opening your closet.

“Z, I just…”

“You know why? Because the second, the second, Tom will try to kiss you, you’ll fall for it. Again”.

“I thought that he was your friend too,” you said, showing her a dress, but she shaked her head.

“He is, but I don’t know if he’s the right pick for you. I don’t condone what you did to him,” she said and you gulped, “but he’s not exactly an angel either. He ruined a lot of relationships even before he met you. That’s who he is,” she continued.

You sat on the edge of the bed, while she was looking for something that you could wear.

“Maybe he’s not like that anymore. People grow up, Z,” you said.

“Oh, yeah? Have you?” She asked you, turning around. You swallowed. “That’s what I thought. Don’t come to me when he’ll screw things up again. Or when you will” she stated, then she showed you the outfit. You looked at it with a sparkle in your eyes. “We have found it”.

You showered, wore the outfit and prepared in less than an hour. You were trying to wear your shoes, when Zendaya opened the door to Tom. He was wearing a white T-shirt with a red flannel on it and some ripped jeans. You waved at him, while grabbing your bag. You told Zendaya not to wait for you and then you smiled at Tom, ready to go.

“Are you still smoking?”

“Sometimes,” he answered. “Where’s Oliver tonight?”

“He posted on Instagram an hour ago, so I assume that he’s still with Jacob and Lizzie somewhere in the campus,” you said, looking at your phone.

“Well, so we have some time,” he said with a smirk. He took your hand and you felt shivers running down your spine.

“What are you doing, Tom?”

“Come on darling, if we have to pretend, then we have to make it believable. What’s worse than seeing the girl you like having fun with someone else?” He asked and you noticed a lightning passing through his eyes.

Then, without even realizing it, you found yourself running with Tom all over the campus. That alone made you laugh, because you felt like a little girl. If you had to describe Tom in one word, you would have said he was light. Not because it was always sunny, but because of the way it managed to get you out of the darkness you found yourself in sometimes. He pulled you out of the darkness and made you feel alive, everytime. He was the only one who could do it. Sometimes you wondered why you gave up on him, in fact. Because you had given up on the light, you, who often felt like a full moon in a dark and gloomy sky. He brought you in a part of the campus that seemed a minigolf. Maybe he and his friends had created it, since Tom loved playing golf very much. He gave you a golf club, urging you to try your hand at it.

“I’m not a good player, Tom,” you said, shaking your head.

“I’m still chasing you, right? So I wouldn’t say so,” he replied, leaving you speechless. “I was joking. Come on, let me show you,” he said.

It seemed so cliché, letting him touch you, teaching you to play, celebrate with him every victory of yours… You could have had it, a year ago. That. Tom. All yours. But you gave up on everything. It was your biggest mistake.

“Tom, it’s time. I think that we should go back. Oliver and the others could be coming to their rooms right now,” you said. Tom seemed a bit sad at your words, but only for a moment. It was hard to see an emotion flash on his face.

He nodded.

“Whatever you want, darling,” he said.

You wanted to say something else, but you closed your mouth before you could actually do it. The two of you came back and fortunately, you found Oliver with Lizzie and Jacob still hanging out. You caught Jacob attention and waved him, while Tom was smooth to hold your hand. You turned around in order to tell him something, but he was quick. One second later, her was kissing you and there was something in your stomach, like a knot, that slowly loosened its grip. You felt a weird sensation, a sort of relief. You could feel Oliver’s eyes trying to burn Tom’s skin, Jacob saying Let’s go and your blood boiling in your veins like lava.

When Tom broke the kiss, he ran his thumb over your lips, looking at them with a sort of melancholy. Fake relationships are a beautiful dream, but waking up is from them a nightmare.

“Tom…”

“I think that he got the message,” he said, taking a step back from you. He lit a cigarette, clenching his jaw.

“This is not a joke to me, Tom. It’s not something I’m doing just for him,” you said.

“No? Then explain what all of this is to me, darling,” he replied, throwing out some smoke like it was his anger.

“Yeah,” you said, but then you bit your inner cheek.

“What’s stopping you, Y/N? What are you hiding from me?” He asked, scanning your face. “Are you ashamed of something? Maybe it’s what you did, you know, the whole cheatingthing… or maybe it’s admitting that you still have feelings for me that brings you shame”.

“No, I’m not ashamed,” you said, determined.

“Then talk to me, darling. What’s happening?”

“I can’t tell you, Tom, I’m sorry,” you said, looking around. It was like you needed some air, even if you were outside. That secret didn’t make you breath anymore.

“What? That you liked throwing all away? That he didn’t make you feel like I did? That you weren’t done playing with me? Just tell me something, Y/N, anything would be better than this fucking silence,” he said, raising his voice.

“I didn’t cheat on you!” You yelled. Tom’s eyes grew wide. Everything around you two seemed now quiet, motionless. You covered your mouth with your hands, maybe to erase what you just said. “Fuck”.

Tom stared at you for a good couple of minutes. He looked at your tired and tearful eyes, perhaps thinking whether to believe you or not, then he did something unexpected: he put out his cigarette. He walked over to you, raking your face in his hands and looked into your eyes, this time more intensely. He looked tired and incredibly older.

“Now you’re gonna tell me everything, darling”.

[lostinfantasyworlds]

Words: ~4,200

Cw for some descriptions of the pain of childbirth.

Includes my drawing of Inuyasha and baby Moroha later on in the story! (I will also post separately).

Read on AO3

A/N at the end.

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

The first of the evening’s stars twinkled against a darkening sky above Kaede’s hut, where Kagome lay inside, deep in the throes of labor. The initial pangs of discomfort had begun shortly after daybreak that morning, the recent sunset marking thirteen hours since then. Now well into active labor, Kagome braced herself for yet another painful contraction. She groaned before clenching her jaw tightly shut, feeling the muscles within her lower abdomen begin to tense.

The fingers of her right hand were laced firmly through her husband’s, who sat diligently at her side. She squeezed Inuyasha’s hand with all her strength, grateful that she could do so without hurting him too much. 

Although it was not traditional for the father to be allowed in the birthing hut, a (reluctant) exception had been made for Inuyasha. Kagome recalled the earlier scene in an effort to distract herself from the building pain.

“Kaede!” Inuyasha called out as he burst through the entrance of Kaede’s hut, carrying Kagome in his arms. 

Kaede made a sound of annoyance as she finished making her tea, her back turned towards the couple. Her lack of surprise suggested that she had sensed the half-demon’s aura approaching. “What are ye making such a fuss about, Inuyasha?”

“Kaede, the baby’s coming!” Kagome said through labored breaths. Kaede finally turned around to see Kagome in Inuyasha’s arms, one hand on her swollen belly and her face screwed up in pain. Her face softened as she realized the reason for the sudden intrusion.

“Ah, yes. Good, good,” Kaede said calmly and set her tea down to begin preparing the futon for Kagome to lay on. 

She moved slowly in her old age, and after a few minutes when Kagome cried out again, Inuyasha growled and snapped, “Would ya move it along? Kagome needs somewhere to lay down right fucking now!”

Kaede shot him a one-eyed glare as she finished placing the last pillow. She gestured to the futon, indicating that it was ready for Kagome to lay down on.

Inuyasha lay Kagome down on the futon ever so gently, making sure she was as comfortable as possible given the circumstances. Once he was sure she was taken care of, he settled onto the floor himself, sitting cross-legged by her side.

“What do ye think you’re doing?” Kaede asked as she grabbed a clean birthing robe and water bucket from a storage chest in the corner. “Fathers are not allowed in the birthing hut, Inuyasha. It is time for ye to leave.”

Inuyasha cracked his knuckles in response, holding up his claws menacingly. “You gonna make me, old hag? There’s no way in hell I’m leaving Kagome right now!”

Kaede’s tolerance for Inuyasha’s rudeness was already running thin. “How dare ye threaten me in my own home! It is bad luck for the father to - “

She was cut off by Kagome, who had just finished breathing through her latest contraction. “Kaede, please, I want him to stay. I need him here with me.”

Kaede considered her request, ultimately deciding it would be less hassle for her to just allow the exception. She nodded slightly before turning away and sighing, preparing herself for a long night ahead with a stressed and overprotective Inuyasha.

Kagome looked up at Inuyasha, who smiled slightly, seemingly relieved that she wanted him to stay. She reached out and took his hand, intertwining their fingers. She returned his smile with a warm one of her own, before abruptly dropping it and replacing it with a glare.

“I want you here with me, but if you are rude to Kaede one more time, I will not hesitate to kick you out. Now apologize!” She gave him a look that made his ears flatten against his head. 

“Fine, whatever. Sorry, Kaede,” he grumbled almost inaudibly. Kagome rolled her eyes at his immaturity, but was still thankful that he would be by her side as they welcomed their child into the world.

Kagome was brought back to the present as her contraction peaked. Her muscles tensed impossibly harder, causing her to let out a cry of agony and squeeze her eyes shut. This was the worst and longest one so far. It was so intense that all rational thought was wiped from her mind as her vision went momentarily white. Unable to comprehend anything beyond her overwhelming desire for the pain to stop, she squeezed Inuyasha’s hand with a force that probably would have broken a regular human’s hand. 

She did her best to try and breathe deeply until her body mercifully began to grant her relief. Chest heaving and limbs shaking, she savored the brief respite, knowing that she didn’t have much time to prepare for the next contraction. They were only a minute or two apart now, and she instinctively knew that their baby was very close to making its arrival.

She felt the comforting coolness of a damp cloth dab the sweat from her forehead, and looked gratefully to her left where Sango knelt beside her. Sango gave her an empathetic, encouraging smile. She had happily volunteered to assist Kagome with the birth of her child, both as an excited aunt-to-be, and as part of her midwife training. 

Kaede’s strength continued to wane in her old age, and Rin had decided to spend some time traveling with Sesshomaru again to see if she still preferred that lifestyle over living with other humans. Not wanting to risk leaving the village without a midwife, Kaede had asked Sango and Kagome if they would be willing to undergo training so they could assist with births if the need arose. Although Sango was incredibly busy with her ever-growing family and occasional demon slaying whenever she got the chance, she jumped at the opportunity to give back to the village that she had made her home for the last seven years. As a mother of five children of her own, she had plenty of experience and advice to offer new moms.

Sango put a comforting hand on Kagome’s shoulder, remembering the excruciating pain of childbirth all too well. “You’re doing great, Kagome. Let me check on your progress.” She moved down between Kagome’s legs to determine how much farther she had to go. Kaede had taught her several methods of determining the baby’s position at any given point during labor. She hoped, for Kagome’s sake, that she was nearing the end.

“Good news, Kagome, you’re almost there! When the next contraction comes, you can start pushing,” Sango said, moving back to Kagome’s side down by her feet.

Kagome nodded slightly, closing her eyes and taking a few more deep breaths to try and prepare herself. Her heart was pounding, her hands were shaking, and a layer of sweat coated her entire body. She had never experienced so much pain, not from any of the injuries she had sustained during their countless battles. Even having the Shikon jewel torn out of her body was nothing compared to this. She had to keep fighting down waves of nausea as the contractions had become more and more agonizing.

She was already exhausted, already past her limit of pain tolerance, and the thought of pushing sent her into a panic. How much worse is this going to get? What if I can’t do this? What if the pain kills me? Maybe I wasn’t ready to be a mother! I’m not strong enough…

Terrifying cynical thoughts raced through her mind as her heart pounded against her ribcage, her breaths becoming more shallow.

“I’m scared,” she admitted quietly, to no one in particular. She kept her eyes closed, feeling weak and ashamed. She had been looking forward to being a mother for so long, so why was she suddenly so afraid? 

“I don’t think I can do this,” she whispered, her voice breaking. A few tears slipped out from under her shut eyelids and rolled down her flushed cheeks. She felt like she was on the brink of a complete breakdown.

“Yes you can. What you’re feeling right now is perfectly normal, Kagome,” Sango said soothingly. 

Kagome slowly opened her eyes at the sound of her friend’s voice.

 “Every mother feels the same way at this point, I promise. This last part isn’t going to be easy, but it doesn’t last too long, and then it will all be over and you’ll be holding your baby in your arms. When you look into their eyes for the first time, you’ll forget all about everything else, trust me.”

Kagome smiled down at her, thankful for the reassurance from someone who had been through this before. She then looked up to her husband who was still holding her hand and sitting cross-legged at her side. Her gaze was met with golden eyes full of concern.

Inuyasha was overwhelmed. There were so many sounds, so many smells, so many emotions. He had done his best to try and prepare himself for this day, but he had to admit that he was in over his head. It was killing him to see Kagome in so much agony, especially when there was nothing he could do about it. His instincts to protect her flooded through him with every cry of pain she let out, followed by the frustration of not being able to help. It was driving him crazy that all he could do was hold her hand and offer her words of encouragement every so often. 

He had kept relatively quiet since his earlier threat to Kaede, afraid of saying the wrong thing and upsetting Kagome. He was completely out of his element, having never witnessed a birth before. He had no idea what to do or say, or what was considered normal. All he knew was that he wanted to be by his wife’s side, and that she wanted him there as well. Now, as she looked into his eyes after voicing her fear, he knew he had to be strong for her. 

“You can do this, Kagome!” he said fervently. Hearing her say she didn’t think she could do it had made him want to scoff and call her an idiot, but he figured that wouldn’t be very helpful and might even earn him a ‘sit’ command in her current state. The idea of her not being able to do this was ludicrous to him. He had been watching her in awe all day, amazed by her strength and resilience. Since they first met, she had always been a fighter, never backing down or giving up when faced with a challenge. It was one of the many things he loved about her. 

He brought his free hand up to her cheek to gently wipe some of her tears and sweat away, letting his fingers linger on her face for a moment. 

“You’re so strong, you always have been,” he said, bringing his hand back down to grip hers between both of his own. He stared deeply into her wide brown eyes, trying to wordlessly communicate the neverending love and respect he had for her. “And I’m right here beside you.”

Kagome could feel her panic melting away at his words and the look in his eyes. She smiled a little at him before looking forward with a newly determined look on her face. That’s right, Inuyasha is with me. I can do anything with him by my side.

She felt the pain building again, but it was different from before. Somehow sharper and duller at the same time. She knew this was the final stretch she had to get through to meet their little one, so she gathered all the strength and courage she had left. 

The pain of pushing was almost unbearable, but she did her best to remain focused on the steady pressure of Inuyasha’s hand and the guidance given by Kaede and Sango. She felt every sensation in her body, her instincts kicking in to guide her through the final stage of delivery.

Over forty excruciating minutes later, a cry finally rang through the cabin, alerting all those in the area to the arrival of a new life. Kagome breathed a huge sigh of relief and fell back against the pillows. Kaede caught the crying baby and carried it over to the water basin to be bathed. Sango cut the cord and helped clean Kagome up enough so that she could comfortably lay her legs flat again. 

Kagome lay exhausted, trying to catch her breath and calm her racing heart. The cries of her baby echoed through the cabin, filling her with a euphoric pride. She had loved their child from the moment she knew of their existence. It felt like so long ago that she first found out she was pregnant. She could still remember the rush of pure joy she felt at the news. Finally, after so much wondering and planning and waiting, she was about to meet the one she already adored more than anything in the world. 

After giving her a few moments to catch her breath, Inuyasha helped support Kagome as Sango stuffed a couple pillows under her back so that she could sit up more. Once she was sure of Kagome’s comfort, Sango got to her feet and said, “I’m going to give you some privacy. You did so well Kagome.” She smiled warmly down at her friend, and then shifted her gaze to Inuyasha. “I couldn’t be happier for the two of you.” Both returned her smile, and Kagome reached out to take Sango’s hand.

“Thank you so much for everything, Sango. It really helped to have you here.”

Sango squeezed her hand. “Anything for my dearest friend. We’ll all come visit in the morning once you’ve had some time to rest.” She released Kagome’s hand and walked out of the hut to give a full report to Miroku and Shippo, who were waiting at home with her own children. 

As Sango walked out of the entryway, Kagome lifted her head up to anxiously look around for her baby, who was no longer crying. Her eyes found Kaede, who was wrapping the newborn loosely in a blanket. Her heart fluttered with nervous anticipation as Kaede slowly made her way over to her and Inuyasha, carrying their new addition in her arms.

“Congratulations Kagome and Inuyasha, it is time to meet your daughter,” she said with a smile. 

At the word ‘daughter,’ Inuyasha and Kagome’s eyes met, both of their mouths dropping open slightly. Their daughter. 

Kaede handed the tiny bundle off to Kagome, who reached out instinctively. As soon as the child was securely in Kagome’s arms, Kaede made her way outside to let them have their first moments as a family in private. 

A peaceful silence settled over the hut as Kagome held their baby close to her chest and stared in awe. Inuyasha moved closer to her, draping an arm over her shoulders. Kagome was overcome with emotion, an overwhelming feeling of love and warmth taking over every ounce of her being. She was still exhausted and in pain, and somewhere in her brain there was a terrifying, nagging reminder that she was now responsible for protecting this tiny being, but it all felt like dull background noise compared to the warmth that emanated from her chest as she marveled in the presence of her daughter.

“Inuyasha...she’s....” she trailed off quietly, unable to quite find the words. 

“...Perfect.” Inuyasha finished for her in a dazed tone. He couldn’t stop staring at the face of the life they had created. He had pictured the arrival of their baby many times in the months since they found out they were expecting, but he could never have imagined what he was feeling now. It was surreal and overwhelming to finally come face-to-face with the child who had only been an abstract concept in his mind until a few minutes ago.

He had struggled with the idea of becoming a father. Despite his excitement to start a family with the person he loved most in this world, he had trouble imagining himself in that role. Questions such as What if I ruin our kid’s life? What if something happens to them? Or to Kagome? How am I supposed to know what to do with a baby? had kept him awake countless nights over the last several months. Not to mention how much time he had spent worrying over Kagome. He’d had a hard time leaving her alone for more than five minutes during her entire pregnancy, constantly afraid that something could happen to her or the baby.

It was the worst on his human nights, the negative thoughts hijacking his mind and taking hold until he could think of little else. What if something attacks us when I’m in my human form and I can’t protect them? What if I’m not a good enough father and Kagome resents me? What if our kid grows up facing the same kind of discrimination I did for being part demon and part human? The questions became impossible to ignore on those nights, a couple times bubbling up to the point where his heart raced and his breath became shallow. He usually tried his best to hide his fears from Kagome, not wanting to cause her any extra stress, but those few times, it was too hard to pretend nothing was wrong. 

Kagome would try to comfort him. She would whisper reassurances into his ears. That she loved him and believed in him. That their child would be well cared for no matter what. That he would be an amazing father. She would look at him with such love and trust and warmth that he was almost able to believe that he was the person she saw him as. But it was hard to forget a lifetime of being told he was worthless, an abomination. It was hard to forget all of the awful things he had said and done in his past. How could he ever be a role model to a child? What if he had doomed them to the same lonely life of an outcast that he had?

Witnessing Kagome’s excitement to be a mother was the only thing that kept him from drowning in his anxiety. Although he didn’t know if he was cut out to be a father, he was positive that Kagome was meant to be a mother. She had always been the caring and nurturing type, and the joy she had to finally fill the role of a mother had radiated from her throughout her entire pregnancy. 

Whenever Inuyasha felt overwhelmed with doubts, he would just watch his wife tenderly rest her hands on her rounded belly, or listen to her hum lullabies to their unborn baby. In those moments, he knew that at least their child would have Kagome as their mother, and that even if he fell short, she would always be there to provide them with the care and support they needed. He vowed to match her as best as he could, all the while feeling terrified of letting her down.

Lost in his thoughts, he hadn’t noticed that Kagome was looking at him. She seemed to sense his inner turmoil and asked, “Do you want to hold her?” with a sweet smile.

“Uh..” Inuyasha responded stupidly, but Kagome had already extended their child towards him. 

“Just remember to support her head and you’ll be fine.”

Inuyasha took the tiny bundle ever so carefully, as if she might shatter into a thousand pieces at his touch. He slowly adjusted her position so that her head rested in the crook of his elbow and she was fully supported by his arm. He stared at her for a long minute, still unable to make sense of everything he was feeling. How could he have helped create such an incredible little human? How could he ever be a good enough father to her? She was so tiny and fragile, what if he hurt her by accident? Protecting Kagome was already stressful, but at least he knew she could handle herself in a battle. How in the world was he supposed to protect someone so small defenseless? He tried not to think about all the dangers of the world around them.

To distract from his racing thoughts, he focused on cataloging everything about her. The little tuft of jet black hair on the top of her head, her barely open chocolate brown eyes that looked so like Kagome’s, her tiny nose and mouth. Although she hadn’t inherited his eye or hair color, or his dog ears, the shape of her features still resembled his own. She was truly a perfect blend of the two of them. He inhaled and memorized her scent. It was similar to Kagome’s, with hints of his own scent, but distinct in its own way. 

Inuyasha cautiously extended one finger from his free hand to gently stroke her cheek, being mindful of his claws. Her skin was softer than the finest silk. He had never felt anything quite like it. He moved to pull away, feeling unworthy to touch her with his rough, calloused hands. At the same time, a chubby fist escaped the confines of the blanket surrounding it and waved blindly through the air. Tiny fingers found his retreating hand, and instinctively wrapped around his outstretched pointer finger. 

With a sharp intake of breath Inuyasha froze, suddenly hit with a surge of emotion so strong he could hardly breathe. His daughter gurgled and looked up at him, gripping his finger with surprising strength for a newborn. A soothing warmth began to spread from the point of contact throughout his whole body, almost reminding him of the sensation of being purified by Kagome’s spiritual powers. But this was something else, something deeper and more profound. 

Something shifted deep within himself as he felt her tiny fingers grip his own. Every priority, every feeling, every want and need he had ever had was rearranging, placing his daughter at the center of it all. The moment that she had touched him, he was forever changed. His rough edges softened just a bit, his heart grew a little larger. The world and his place in it made a little more sense. All of the doubts and insecurities he had about being a father faded to the background. He knew now that he would do absolutely anything for the little girl in his arms. 

A type of love he never knew existed rushed through him, seeping into every last crevice of his soul. It was all-consuming and indescribable. He felt as if he was staring into the sun itself, her radiant light giving him warmth and life in ways he hadn’t known he needed. All of the pain he had gone through in his life now felt worth it to be able to experience this moment. He would do it a thousand times over again as long as he got to meet her. He had known for a long time that he was born to be with Kagome, but now he knew he was born to meet his daughter as well. 

He let out the smallest of laughs, breathy and awestruck. After several more moments, he finally managed to tear his eyes away from her to look up at Kagome, who had been watching the heartwarming scene unfold. His mouth still hung agape, and as his eyes met Kagome’s, he felt a single tear roll down his cheek. The sensation surprised him, having never shed tears of joy before.  He hadn’t even noticed the wetness building in his eyes. As he looked at his wife, he noticed that tears were silently falling down her cheeks as well, though she wore a beaming smile. 

The familiar sight of Kagome’s smile made his heart swell with even more warmth. It hardly felt real that, after all the heartache and loneliness that he had endured in his life, he was here looking into the eyes of his wife and holding his daughter in his arms. He wanted to tell her how much he loves her, how thankful he was to be able to share this moment with her. He wished he had the words to explain what it meant to him to have a family of his own.

“Kagome...” he said quietly, trying to think of something else to say. How could he ever put into words everything he had just felt?

“Inuyasha,” Kagome responded warmly in a way that told him no words were needed. They had always had a quiet understanding between them, their love for each other much deeper than words could ever hope to describe. It was something he was eternally grateful for. With a smile, Kagome reached out to cover her husband and daughter’s joined hands with her own.

Her eyes drifted back down to their beloved child, and after a few moments of contemplation she asked, “Moroha?”

Inuyasha wasn’t sure where she got the name, but it didn’t matter to him. It fit her perfectly.

“Moroha,” he repeated, confirming her name.

Inuyasha rested his forehead against Kagome’s as they continued to gaze down at their daughter. He knew his fears hadn’t disappeared completely, but there would be time to worry later. For now, he simply let himself bask in the glowing happiness of this perfect moment with his family.

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

A/N (sorry it’s so long)

Hope you enjoyed the feels! I’ve been working on this for a while now, so I’m really excited to finally post it! I had originally wanted to post it before the premiere of Yashahime, but I kept nitpicking and editing it over and over. Plus I decided to add the drawing which took me forever. I also went all out and made the banner and everything, which I’m not sure if people usually do for oneshots but oh well!

This all started with me imagining that one moment of a newborn Moroha grabbing Inuyasha’s finger, and that being the moment that moved him and changed him forever. I could see him being really nervous and unsure about becoming a father, but I liked the idea of her touch causing a shift in him and basically turning him into a puddle of mush. I hope it isn’t too OOC for Inuyasha to cry at this moment, but I thought if anything would have the power to make him shed tears of joy then this would be it. Plus I saw it as kind of an involuntary bodily reaction to all of the emotion he experienced.

I tried to throw in some of Kagome’s POV, but I mostly wanted to explore Inuyasha’s conflicted thoughts and feelings about becoming a father. I hope the descriptions of pain/birth weren’t too much. I have never gone through childbirth, but it sounds ridiculously painful and terrifying so I was probably projecting a bit haha. Kagome is a badass for dealing with all of that with no drugs! 

I tried to look up real stories of how people felt when they saw their baby for the first time. There were a lot of mixed reactions, with a lot of people saying they just felt really scared or didn’t have a strong emotional reaction. This is a fic so of course I wanted it to be emotional and happy, but I tried to mix in some of the fear they must have felt also.

I didn’t want it to seem like Kagome’s strength only came from Inuyasha being there with her, but from what I read about active labor, the pain at that point can be extremely mentally and physically taxing, so I wanted her to have a moment of weakness where she felt like she wasn’t strong enough. And I always loved that Kagome and Inuyasha draw strength from each other in different ways. So I felt like she would have been able to tap into that from having him by her side.

Also, in regards to Sango and Miroku having 5 children, I find it hard to believe that they would have stopped at 3 considering how much Miroku talked about wanting to have 10 + kids lol. So that was just a little canon divergence I threw in there. This takes place about 4 years after Kagome returns to the feudal era for good. 

Anyways, I could ramble forever and over explain everything as I tend to do, but I wanted to get this out there before we see baby Moroha in Yashahime this week. I’m so excited!

[madamewriterofwrongs]

From the fluffy/blushy prompts: "No, it’s fine. I can wait until you’re done talking to them". Thank you!

Happy NaNoWriMo (aka, working multiple projects and filling prompts <3)!

911/Buddie

Take My Heart Away With You

“Eddie Diaz, as I live and breathe.” Half a dozen heads shot up from across the intersection as the firefighters of the 118 continued to pack up their equipment. It had been a simple enough call: three-car accident in a residential area, no major injuries or immediate dangers. In fact, the entire incident was over and done with in less than an hour; they might make it back in time for Bobby to cook lunch before half of the crew were off for the day.

Although, plans were certain to change given the determined excitement from the stranger on the sidewalk.

Eddie looked up from his place beside Buck and recognized the man instantly. “Jerry? What the hell are you doing here?”

Without a second glance, he tossed his share of the equipment haphazardly into the truck for Buck to sort and jogged over to greet his friend.

“What am I doing here? Last I heard, you were living in Texas with your parents, and now I find you pulling cats out of trees in the City of Angels?”

From against the side of the truck, Chimney tilted his head to mutter “I don’t think I’ve ever rescued a cat from any form of flora.” Hen chuckled but agreed with a quip of her own, though Buck was admittedly too fixated on the other voices to pay much attention. Unfortunately, he was a little too far away to hear Eddie’s conversation with his old friend so he returned to his task, picking up the slack until his partner’s return.

“I moved out here with my son about three years ago, now.” Eddie hadn’t seemed to notice the distinct lack of chatter from his teammates as they all strained to hear his conversation. “You remember Christopher? He’s almost ten now.”

Jerry whistled in response, shoving his hands into his jean pockets. “Crazy. And Shannon? How’s she doing?”

No matter the passage of time, the sudden memory of losing his wife was always a shock to his system. “She, uh, she passed just over a year ago. It’s just the two of us. Well, I’ve got my aunt and my grandmother, and Carla, and Buck, and the rest of the 118.”

“I’m sorry,” he looked down at the hand on his shoulder and his mind returned to the days when the most sympathetic greeting he could expect on a daily basis was a firm clap on the shoulder. “but it seems like you’re doing well here.”

“I am.” Eddie was finally able to admit that he was thriving in LA, and it was nothing to be ashamed of (actually, he was almost able to admit that). “But what about you? I thought you were moving to Paris to be with Katie and her family.” It had been some time but he seemed to remember long nights of listening to Jerry pine for his girlfriend who had decided to move home now that she was done with her Masters, and how much he would miss her once his tour was over.

“I did. I’m just in town for a conference.” His friend flashed a smile that reminded Eddie of Buck’s giddy grins when he was almost too excited to share his news. “We’ve been married now, two years in August.”

He had nothing but congratulations to offer Jerry, though his heart did ache to see the ring glinting in the sunlight.

“How have you been since Shannon…” there was no need to end the sentence for two men so acquainted with death. “Is Carla…?”

“No.” He gently affirmed. “Carla’s an amazing woman but she helps care for Christopher when I’m at work.” And what a god-send she was. “Buck introduced us.”

There was a familiar glint in his eyes that Eddie recognized from every time he found himself roped into pulling pranks on their last day at any camp. “And Buck is…”

“My coworker.” He emphasized with a nod in his friend’s direction, hiding the smile that came when Buck gave an awkward wave.

“He’s cute.”

Eddie barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Jerry wasn’t the first (and he certainly wouldn’t be the last) of his friends to be charmed by Buck with just a single look.

“And he knows it.” He grumbled good-naturedly. “But listen, I gotta get back to work. It was nice seeing you.”

He was already jogging back when he turned at the sound of his name. “A couple of the guys are getting together on Thursday to watch the game; you wanna join us?”

Eddie paused in the middle of the street, a rejection on his lips before he paused to consider the offer in its entirety. A night with old friends who shared a very specific (and some would say ‘traumatic’) experience, most of whom he hasn’t seen since returning prematurely from his second tour. A night which didn’t predictably end at home or at Buck’s, reminiscing about the day – not that he didn’t enjoy his downtime with someone he’d easily call his best friend. A night with no responsibilities.

“Yeah.” He called as he jogged back to his old friend. “Let me give you my new number and you can send me the details.”

Across the road, Buck stood upright as he no longer subtly observed Eddie’s interaction. “Did he just give that guy his number?”

“So what if he did?” Hen slammed the back of the ambulance after returning their unused equipment. “It’s been over a year since Shannon died, I think it’s good that he’s getting back out there.”

Chimney hummed in contemplation beside her. “I’m with Buck on this. Maybe it’s a little too soon to be dating. Besides, he’s got a kid at home, doesn’t that complicate things?”

“I didn’t say it was too soon.” Buck protested too sharply. “I just think it’s in poor taste to be hitting on a guy when he’s in the middle of a call.”

“Didn’t you frequently talk to your girlfriend while actively treating a patient?”

He ignored Hen’s excellent point in favor of watching Eddie return to his post.

“Sorry about that. Old army buddy. I haven’t seen him since I got back but we’re gonna get together with some of the old squad later this week to catch up.” He looked so excited (as excited as ‘Professional-Mode’ Eddie could be) that Buck didn’t have the heart to question him further. He used the same excuse to explain why we was virtually silent on the ride back to the station. It certainly had nothing to do with the curious way his heart tightened at the thought that Eddie might be ready to date after the passing of his wife.

Eddie would never describe himself as a ‘social butterfly’, in even the broadest sense of the term, but there was something about being in a specific environment that brought out his louder personality. Sitting on the couch, drinking beer, and half-watching a game while taking turns swapping stories about the old days and where life took them after (that is to say, standing and cheering when there was noise from the television and virtually ignoring the screen otherwise).

For once, he found he had stories to tell that didn’t leave him riddled with guilt. He could talk about the people he’d saved at work, and the daring rescues Buck decided to pull off that Eddie had to save him from. A few of the guys had seen Buck on the news but had no idea Eddie was there. Thoughts of all the people they’d lost – and almost lost – in bombings had silenced the room for a minute. And then someone scored a goal and they were all on their feet, cheering and sloshing drinks like nothing had happened.

For a few hours, Eddie was given the gift of forgetting that he had anything to be ashamed about and just enjoy the life he had now. So, of course, when the boys invited him out a week later, he was quick to accept their invitation.

“Sorry, I can’t do game night on Tuesday, I’m going out for drinks with the guys.” He declined Chimney’s offer of dinner while they dressed in the locker room before their weekend shift. “Buck, you’re welcome to join us if you don’t want to be the odd man out.” As much as he loved his sister, Eddie knew that his friend was less than keen on being the only person at dinner without a date.

Not that he and Buck would go as a date, but it always seemed easier when they could pair off in whatever way that meant to them.

“I don’t want to impose.” Buck began to protest but Eddie waved him off.

“It’s not imposing if I’m inviting you.”

Still, the man shook his head.

“Nah, I actually have plans on Tuesday anyways so I won’t be going to Maddie’s anyways.”

If he were paying closer attention, he might notice the way Buck avoided his eyes as he spoke – a sure sign that he was being less than truthful.

“You were just going to not show up and leave me as the odd man out? I, at least, gave you fair warning.” He tossed his uniformed shirt at Buck’s head, which he caught only after it hit him on the side of his face. Of course, that meant Eddie had to cross the locker room in only his slacks to retrieve the clothing item, leaving him standing next to Buck, shirtless, and all too aware of their close proximity.

“Have fun without me.” He saw the twinkle behind those blue eyes of something unspoken but instead of asking, he pulled the shirt out of his hands and pulled it over his head in a smooth motion on his way out the door.

Buck watched him leave with, breathless in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time. And something in his gut that squeezed hard at the thought of Eddie spending time with other people. Which was ridiculous. Eddie was allowed to have friends that he didn’t know about. Yes, they were best friends but that didn’t mean they owed each other a free pass to their entire lives. He’d just have to get over this jealousy.

“Why’d you lie to Eddie?” He flew against the lockers at the sound of Hen’s voice at his side.

“Why-why do you think I lied to Eddie?”

Her incredulous gaze was nearly as intimidating as Athena’s (had she been getting pointers?). “Because you don’t have plans on Tuesday. Why did you tell him you did?”

Was he that obvious? Could everyone see that he was jealous and he wanted to sulk at home rather than spend the evening with his sister, distracted and wondering what Eddie was up to?

“I didn’t want him to feel bad. If he’s not going to Maddie’s, then I’m not going to be the odd one out – like he said.”

Hen perched herself beside him against the lockers, her scrutiny turning soft. “He invited you to join him, you could have gone out with his army buddies. Is there a reason you didn’t want to?”

He didn’t want to be a burden, he’d have nothing in common with them, he didn’t want to feel like an obligation, Eddie deserved a night out with friends who weren’t him.

“It just didn’t seem like my thing.” Drinking at a bar didn’t seem like his thing? Hen didn’t have to voice her question but he shrugged it off regardless. “I’ll probably just hit the gym and do some laundry. I’m way behind anyways.” He pushed off the wall of lockers before she could question his lies any further.

Of course, he hated lying to his friends. It seemed better than admitting that he was feeling petty and jealous – like a child – over something so silly.

No matter how guilty he felt for the way he was acting, it still hurt to see Eddie strolling into the station on Wednesday morning with a smile on his face. He looked brighter than he had in a long time (since Shannon, probably). And was there a bounce in his step? Surely, he was imagining it; but he did seem happy. That was all that mattered, right? As long as Eddie was happy, he’d learn to get over his jealousy and find other friends to occupy his time.

Or perhaps he’d just be alone forever. That seemed like a likely alternative. He would adjust, adapt; he’d figure it out and everything would be fine.

Four months later, he wanted to smack his past self in the face for thinking that he could have a normal, well-adjusted reaction to anything. He was the guy who overreacted, who felt things so deeply and blew everything out of proportion.

Of course, he would see Eddie finding other friends as a sign that there was something wrong with him, and thus should isolate himself from everyone in his life. The problem was: Eddie hadn’t changed – not really. Sure, he went out with the guys a few nights a month and always came back with a smile on his face and a few stories to tell that Buck got to hear with the rest of the crew. But he kept up their weekly game night, and pizza night, and their trip to the baseball game that he told himself was out of pity for the expense of the tickets (but really, he was just excited to spend some time with his friend).

Eddie was his usual self, it was Buck who started declining game night or ending pizza night early, or feigning illness when Eddie told him about adult night at the observatory. He was the one who was pushing his friend away because some selfish part of him couldn’t handle not having someone’s attention 24/7. The more he told himself of all the reasons he was wrong, the more convinced he became of his need to isolate.

He should have known better.

“Eddie? It’s midnight, what are you doing here?” He groggily answered the door, stumbling when his mind finally caught up with him. “What happened to Christopher?”

“He’s fine.” The man was quick to put his hands out in a calming motion, walking straight past him and into the apartment without invitation – not that Eddie ever needed an invitation. “He’s at a sleepover. I wanted to talk to you.”

He’d figured it out. He must have. Eddie knew that Buck was acting like a dick and wanted to cut ties completely. Why did he have to do it in the middle of the night when it was already so dark and cold?

“You see me every day.” He closed the door despite his own instinct to run away.

“This isn’t really a work conversation.” There it was: the truth.

“I need a drink.” Buck was circling the bar and reaching for the fridge before Eddie could protest. He turned back with two water bottles in his hand (a force of habit, he supposed) and slid the other to the man taking his usual seat on the island.

It was such a minor thing but Buck had always found it amusing that even though he had a perfectly good table a few feet over, the two of them always gravitated towards the kitchen bar/island – he couldn’t remember which. Perhaps there was something to that, but he couldn’t figure out what.

“So what is it?”

“Actually, that’s what I wanted to ask you.” Two minutes in and Eddie was already nervously picking at the label of his bottle. This was going to hurt. “You’ve been distant lately; cancelling plans, lying to avoid spending time together. I appreciate that you still make time to see Christopher but you and I haven’t hung out in months. What’s up?”

After the last time he and Eddie split up – that is to say, they were separated as teammates – he’d felt so guilty about his favourite kid getting caught in the crossfire. So, even if Eddie never wanted to see him again, he was going to do all he could to still be there for Christopher. Although, it seemed especially cruel to make Buck confess all his wrongdoings instead of just yelling at him and walking away.

“There’s nothing up, I’ve just been busy.” Why he bothered to try and lie to his best friend would forever remain a mystery.

“You’ve never been able to lie to me, Buck, I don’t know why you’re doing it now but I’m worried.”

“Worried?” This was not the response he was expecting at all. What would Eddie have to be worried about?

“I’m worried that I’m losing my best friend and I don’t know why.”

There were moments in a person’s life that struck as lightning – hard and fast and completely unexpected. And there were some that rolled like thunder – highly anticipated but when it finally arrived, nothing could prepare for the aftershock. Buck finally understood the feeling of releasing a long-held breath only to feel the sensations trickle down his body, leaving pins and needles in their wake.

“I don’t want to be your best friend anymore.”

No puzzle pieces formed together, there was no sense of relief after letting go of this realization, but the moment the words left his mouth, they rang with truth. He didn’t want to see Eddie as a best friend, vying for time and caring from the sidelines of his life. He wanted to be in Eddie’s life. He wanted something new. He wanted-

“You don’t want to be friends anymore, what?”

“No!” He stumbled over his own shoes in an attempt to recover from his own misstep. “Well, yes, but not in the way you’re thinking.”

“What other way is there, Buck?” He followed as Eddie instinctively stepped away, confusion and hurt marring his face. That suddenly, very kissable face.

One step at a time.

“The way where we are something other than friends. Something romantic.” He ventured, drawing out each word as they formed in his mind.

“Something…” Eddie’s voice trailed off and Buck was gifted with the display of emotions that crossed his face. Confusion, searching, conclusion, understanding, realization, surprise, and finally a soft, shaking “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.” Buck tried to smile in a comforting manner but it has difficult to concentrate when the air had left the room. “Is that okay?”

There had always been an understanding between the two men: words were not necessary for them to know what the other needed. They didn’t need to talk to come up with a plan to rescue someone from a three-story house. They didn’t need to talk to offer comfort after a call went badly and all they wanted was not to be alone. They didn’t need to talk to know when to pounce on Chimney when he had overplayed his turn on the game console. They knew each other – complimented one another in their silence – which made them an amazing team and wonderful friends.

In the silence following Buck’s question, he didn’t dare try to read Eddie’s expression, for fear of breaking his heart too soon.

“I-yeah it’s okay but,” Buck closed his eyes against the world. “I don’t know that I feel the same.”

“Yeah, that’s fine.” His mouth retreated from the conversation before his feet could make a decision. “But that’s why I’ve been…yeah.” When his feet finally caught up with his beating heart, they made their way towards the door. “So now that we’ve settled that, I’ll see you at work.”

Just get him out now. Do whatever you need to be alone. Get out. Find the silence so you can put yourself back together.

“Buck, shouldn’t we talk about th-”

“Nope.” He squeezed the handle to steady his shaking hands. “No, I think we’ve covered everything.” With a strength he didn’t possess, Buck opened the front door and stepped aside for Eddie to leave. “I’ll talk to you at work.”

He could hear the slow shuffling of Eddie’s steps as he made his way towards the door, stopping in front of Buck. They had never needed words to know what the other was saying (there had been days when they had been completely off and needed to make amends but with time, their skills had improved) and with just the steady breaths between them, Buck acknowledged Eddie’s apology and listened as he walked out the door.

It wasn’t until the engine of his truck roared out of the parking lot, that Buck allowed himself to close the door and wipe a hand over his face to clear the emotions he’d delicately kept at bay.

Eddie found himself numbly driving anywhere but home, his mind racing with the onslaught of realizations he’d been handed in such a short amount of time. How had he not seen it before? How had he not noticed the signs? How had he not understood how important that moment was? How had he not found the words to say he felt the same?

With nothing awaiting him at home, he drove for what felt like hours until he finally pulled up to his front door, feeling no less certain of what he should do next. Even so close to the safety of his bedroom, Eddie couldn’t bring himself to walk inside, choosing instead to lean against the steering wheel until the sun came up.

When he found himself burdened with so many conflicting thoughts, the only person he wanted to talk to was suddenly the only person he couldn’t share his fears with. What else was there to do but keep his emotions close to his chest until he could sort them out. Or maybe he’d make an appointment with Frank – that’s what he was for, right? – and see what an objective mind could come up with.

For now, he had to find the strength to go inside and get ready for work.

Because naturally he and Buck would be scheduled to work together the day after such an unsettling interaction. The universe would never give him an opportunity to adjust to his new mindset and perhaps come up with what he wanted to say to Buck. His friend deserved an answer – or perhaps closure – but he had nothing to give. No amount of sitting in his driveway with the engine turned off, would give him the words he needed to find before he was set to face Buck again.

Why is this a problem?

That question had drifted through his mind over again as the night slowly faded to daylight. He’d known for some time that Buck meant something significant to him. Perhaps it was in the role of best friend, or trusted partner, and occasionally he laid in bed wondering if he might mean something different – something romantic.

The thought of dating Buck hadn’t scared him the way he expected it might. In fact, he’d been circling around the daydream with startling frequency of late. So why, at the pivotal moment – the moment when he might actually get to fulfill those dreams – did he lie and say that he didn’t feel the same way? It was like he was predestined to break his own heart at every turn; first, he hurt his wife, then his son, then his best friend. But unlike with Shannon, Eddie had a chance to make up for his mistakes with the other two people who meant the world to him. He could spend the rest of his life apologizing to Christopher for leaving by showing up every single day. And he could apologize to Buck by…

By telling him the truth.

That the sudden confession had startled him and his brain hadn’t actually registered what he was saying until he was down the block. That he very much reciprocated, but he’d screwed up – like he always did (maybe he’d leave that part out).

He had to try, at least.

Besides, this was Buck. They always came back to each other; they always forgave each other.

“What do you mean, ‘no’?” Eddie blocked the other man’s path as they approached the station together. It hadn’t been difficult for Eddie to beat him to work and then all he had to do was wait. “Buck, I just want to talk.”

“I don’t want to talk, Eddie.” Buck side stepped his partner but Eddie caught him again. “Not right now. We have to focus on work.”

He’d never seen the man so pale and small. He was carefully balancing his work bag on one hunched shoulder, his neck and head cast down but even then, Eddie could see how tired his eyes looked, feel how cold his skin felt from exhaustion. Had either of them slept?

“What about after work? Come over and we’ll talk.”

“Talk about what?” It wasn’t quite a shout but they were quickly drifting into the territory of ‘not work appropriate levels of conversation’. “You told me you don’t feel the same – that’s fine. I just need a little time.” When Eddie moved to block his escape again, Buck looked into Eddie’s eyes properly for the first time all day and whispered “Please.”

Eddie let him pass.

Their shift together was uncomfortable to say the least. Buck barely spoke to anyone and his avoidance of Eddie was obvious to anyone who accidentally walked through the cold air between them. Eddie didn’t try to engage with him again but too often, he caught himself staring across the table at his friend, begging for some sign that this – like every other horrible thing between them – would pass.

As they packed up at the end of the day, he watched Buck sidestep Chimney’s attempts to engage in conversation, and nearly ran into Hen when she approached him – now doubt some tag team strategy to get the story from both parties at once.

Unfortunately for the paramedics, neither of the men were up for airing their dirty laundry. No, Eddie saved that for drinks with his army buddies a few nights later.

“So when are we actually going to meet this ‘Buck’ of yours?” Ian meant well (as well as he could when teasing his friends about his obvious crush). “I thought you were going to introduce us.”

Eddie stared into the bottom of his glass of ginger ale, wondering if it held any of the answers he so desperately needed. Instead, he downed the rest of his soda in one gulp. “Buck isn’t mine.”

“Ooh.” A few voices from the table echoed Sam’s ribbing. “Trouble in paradise?”

“You could say that.” He couldn’t exactly blame his loose tongue on the alcohol but he was sorely tempted to find a better excuse to share his feelings than simply ‘he needed someone to talk to’.

Like friends?

“Buck told me that he had feelings for me and I told him that I wasn’t sure I felt the same (even though that’s a lie). And now he’s freezing me out because I hurt him, but the only way I can make it up to him is if I talk to him. I don’t know how to make it right.”

It was an odd sensation to feel a weight lift off his chest – he was so used to carrying it all alone until he’d come to LA and even then, it was a hard habit to break – but confessing his frustrations to a room of receptive people did give him a sense of relief.

“Wait, hold on.” Ian shook his head. “You and Buck aren’t a couple? Could have fooled me, the way you go on about him.” Mostly receptive.

The trouble was: he wanted them to be a couple, and though he wasn’t sure Buck was still on board, he knew there was the potential to get everything he wanted. There was only one person who could get them there and it wasn’t any of the men sitting around the table in the dimly lit bar.

“We are not talking about my love life – or lack thereof – anymore.” He declared, rising to his feet. “The next rounds’ on me.” He was still waiting for their order when he felt a hand clap his shoulder and he jumped despite himself.

“Sorry,” Sam hissed in sympathy. “I should know better. I just wanted to say: fix it.” He grabbed half of the drinks as they were slid across the bar for Eddie to follow suit. “Do what you need to do to be happy – even if that means locking your boy in a closet until you sort it out.” Eddie held his balance as Sam lightly elbowed him with a smirk. “You talk about Buck like he’s someone special to you. Don’t lose that.”

It was Sam’s words that led Buck to open his door after midnight for the second time that week, to find an anxious Eddie eager to enter his apartment.

“What do you want, Eddie?” Without waiting for permission, the man walked through to the kitchen bar and began to lightly pace back and forth. He looked nervous, almost scared. What could he possibly have to say that was so terrifying? Was he fleeing the city because he couldn’t handle being around Buck any longer? No, that wasn’t it. Though his heart was still healing, he knew Eddie was not one to run away from his problems. Not that Buck was a problem. Was he?

“I want us to talk.” The man declared as he continued to run a hole in the hardwood floor. “And I don’t want you to kick me out again.”

Buck knew he’d been rash the other night in sending Eddie away before he could continue but the other option was listening to platitudes about their friendship (which he cherished greatly) and maintaining a professional attitude and he just couldn’t bring himself to hear it then.

The rest – the confrontation in the parking lot, the icing out – it had been to protect his heart while he readjusted the level of hope he was allowed to carry. He just needed time. Yet, here Eddie was, pushing his way through.

Just like you do.

“Fine.” He closed the door with just enough gracefulness to appease his grumpy neighbours. “Talk.”

Eddie stopped pacing when Buck approached. “No, we’re going to talk to each other.” He really didn’t want to talk about this awful situation between them. In fact, if they never spoke again, he would be perfectly content. He cursed his own traitorous heart for calling him a liar, then.

“What do you want me to say, Eddie?” He took the stool across from his friend when Eddie motioned for him to sit. Even now, it seemed important that the two of them never sat at the table.

“First, I want to ask you a question. Please be honest.” As much as his mind cried ‘no! You don’t owe him anything!’ his heart whispered ‘give him every chance’.

“Okay.”

“You said you were pulling away because you wanted to be something other than friends. Why?”

Buck couldn’t help the incredulous snort that escaped. “Why was I pulling away, or why do I want to be something other than friends? Because if I’m being honest, I’m trying to rethink that last one.” He silenced the voice shouting ‘liar’.

“No, why were you pulling away? What changed?”

His immediate response was to answer with ‘nothing’. To confess that nothing had changed except he suddenly came to his senses, even if those senses had gotten him hurt. But then, he let himself think back to the weeks and months when Eddie wasn’t around as often. When he suddenly had other people he would rather be with instead of him.

“I got jealous.” He confessed quietly. “You had your army buddies and you were spending less time with me. At first, I thought I was just jealous that you had other friends. It’s been just the two of us for some time and suddenly you weren’t always there.” He’d tried so hard to convince himself that he was just being selfish the way he always was; that he was simply meant to grow up and get over it. “Then I suddenly realized I wanted to be there with your friends – get to know them – but I didn’t want to be one of them.” Eddie’s eyes were too soft and bright to stare into any longer so he found a place on the counter between them that felt like neutral territory.

“I want you all to myself and I know that’s selfish but I want all of you.” Saying it out loud was meant to feel like relief but all Buck found was a pain in the center of his chest. “Seeing you and not knowing what to do: it was too hard. So I stepped back. And now that it’s all out there,” (And boy, was it all out there.) “I just need some time to readjust. That’s all I need.”

What he ‘needed’ was an infinite list of ever-changing desires, but several of the constants included Eddie and Christopher in his life. What he needed: was to put the genie back in the bottle and never realize his feelings in the first place. What he needed was to be happy.

“It’s not selfish.” He barely heard Eddie’s whispered words but he looked up to familiar, shining eyes. “Or if it is, then I’m selfish, too.”

It wasn’t quite like he’d heard a record scratch in his mind but the world most definitely stopped moving for a moment as his words set into place.

“You-what?”

Eddie reached out his hand but hesitated, placing it just between them. An offering instead of a command: Buck could answer if he wanted, when he was ready.

“When you told me…what you told me,” that was certainly one way of putting it. “I panicked.” Buck didn’t echo his nervous laughter but he did nothing to deter it, too lost in absorbing all of the new information.

“I thought maybe you meant it some other way, or I was dreaming, or I wasn’t good enough for you.” How could Eddie ever believe that he wasn’t good enough? Even if this was his long-winded way of letting him down gently, Buck made a promise to never let him believe that again. “So I told you that I wasn’t sure how I felt but that was a lie.”

The more Eddie spoke, the more Buck allowed his heart to take on just a little more hope. “And I wanted to tell you the truth but I could never get you alone.” Because Buck had made a point of walking in the other direction whenever Eddie entered the room, entirely born out of self-preservation that was, apparently, unfounded.

“You know my friends, they thought we were dating.”

“Wait, really?”

His laugh had elements of the joy he knew Eddie was capable of and it gave him permission to relax against the bar just a little bit. “Yup. They kept asking when they were going to meet the guy I couldn’t stop talking about. And then they told me to do what I need to do to be happy.” Eddie sighed in conclusion. “So I came here.”

Buck tried to speak a few times but no words ever came. He had let himself hope for this outcome too often, but it never felt like this. His heart felt as though it would burst from his chest and his ears were ringing like he was flying through high altitude. His eyes darting across Eddie’s face over and over, looking for a hint that he was being insincere but all he saw was the same terrified and shy desire that he assumed was in his own expression.

“So you like me?” Buck ventured.

“Yeah, Buck.” Eddie chuckled in return. “I like you.”

Good. “And I like you.”

“Glad to hear it.”

“And your friends think we’re dating.”

“They may have hinted at it, yes.”

It seemed a pity that Eddie’s hand was resting between them, completely unaccompanied, so Buck linked their fingers.

“Do you want to go on a date?”

It felt right, feeling Eddie’s thumb gently swipe across his skin and squeeze their fingers with all the joy they couldn’t express for fear of breaking their quiet bubble of hope.

“Honestly, I want to kiss you right now.” The shiver of anticipation was one he’d been waiting for, for a very long time. “But I’m also very tired. I haven’t really slept since that night.”

Buck found himself simultaneously relieved and guilty to learn that he hadn’t been alone in his sleeplessness so instead, he pulled Eddie to his feet.

“Do you have anywhere to be in the morning?” When Eddie shook his head, he smiled. “My bed’s pretty big. What do you say to sleeping – just sleeping – and then see about the rest of it in the morning.”

Without hesitation, he melted into Eddie’s smile. “That sounds perfect.”

--

He had done much scarier things in his lifetime – hell, he’d gone to war when he had a newborn son waiting for him at home – but somehow, walking into the pub with his boyfriend by his side was what really got him sweating.

“Hey,” Buck bumped his shoulder with an encouraging smile the way he had since the day they met. “it’s gonna go great.”

It didn’t entirely ease his anxiety but he also had the distinct realization that he could handle whatever happened because he wouldn’t have to handle it alone.

“I know.”

He spotted the group easily enough, the group of boisterous men in the corner booth, exchanging loud war stories and wiping up their sloshed drinks (because they were raised to be polite young men, thank you, ma’am). The moment they caught sight of Eddie they waved him over and the two made their way to join the platoon.

“Hey guys, I see you started drinking without me.” He greeted the men with a smile.

“Well Kelley started around noon.” Ian shoved his friend’s shoulder. “So unless you wanted to skip…whatever it is you two were doing before this…”

“We were at work.” Buck replied quickly with a mischievous smirk to his cheeks. The man really was shameless, even when he was telling the truth. “Hi, I’m Buck,” he extended his hand to the closest person – Sam – who took it immediately. “it’s nice to meet you all.”

Thankful for his boyfriend’s ability to charm the pants off of anyone he met (though the pants-loosing was a super power he reserved for one person in particular), Eddie allowed himself to relax into the evening. “Buck these are some of the men I was on tour with. This is Sam, Ian, Harry, Erik, and Cole.” Buck greeted them each with a polite nod and handshake. “Guys, this is Buck.”

“Please tell me you two are finally having sex.” Ian shook Buck’s hand enthusiastically, laughing at the double take from both men. “Eddie here has been mooning over you for months.”

If it were possible for the floor to swallow him whole, he would pray for an earthquake. The knowing look on Buck’s face, paired with the snickers from around the table, told him that he wouldn’t be hearing the end of it for some time.

“Mooning?” Buck teased as they took their seats next to one another. “Eddie, I had no idea you mooned.” He was well aware that they both mooned over one another (as evidenced by the amount of times Chimney had asked them to stop looking at each other while they were on duty before they were arrested for indecent exposure) but he didn’t correct his boyfriend.

“Suddenly I’m feeling very down to earth.” He rolled his eyes at Buck’s faux indignation before they turned their attention to the rest of the table. “So, what were we talking about?”

Erik waved him off without waiting for the others to respond. “Doesn’t matter. We want to talk to Buck here. I bet there’s some things he knows about Eddie that we’d like to know.”

He knew before he asked Buck to accompany him to guys’ night, that the boys would latch on to him and search for blackmail material. Fortunately, he came prepared.

“And I know there’s some things about these guys that Buck would find hilarious. Like, guess who got caught sneaking out of the captain’s quarters after someone set off the fire alarm. And they were naked. And so was the captain.”

It wasn’t difficult to discern the culprit from the blush in his cheeks, but Buck still snorted at Cole with a mixture of shock and approval.

“I was fired a few months into being a probie because I got caught stealing the firetruck to have sex. Twice.”

If there was one thing Eddie should have known, it was that Buck was as shameless as he was handsome. Of course, he would reveal stories about his life that even his partner hadn’t heard before.

“You said I couldn’t kiss you goodbye in the parking lot because we had to be professional!”

“Because I got fired for having sex in a firetruck.” Buck matched his indignant energy with a smile. “I’m not going to risk getting fired again.”

“It’s a kiss, Buck, we’re not going to get fired for a kiss (not in LA, anyways).”

“Well I know that if I kiss you, I won’t be able to stop. And the things I want to do to you would get us fired – even in LA.”

“You are both very horny and very sweet.” Eddie shoved his boyfriend lightly, to accompany his hidden smile of giddy joy. This thing between them was only a few weeks old and they were still learning what would change and what would stay exactly the same. So far, it had been nothing but happy adjustments and stolen kisses. Eddie knew exactly what Buck meant about never wanting to stop – and he hoped that feeling never went away.

“I feel so sorry for your coworkers.” They snapped to Sam, taking in the snickers from the other men as they came back to reality. “I don’t know how they get anything done with you two like this constantly.”

“They don’t.” The pair replied in unison, earning another round of laughter from the table.

Eddie recovered first. “Enough about us, we’re here to spend a night among friends, so whose gonna by us a drink?”

Truth be told: Eddie didn’t mind the sniggering or taunting because it all came from a place of love – a place he wasn’t sure he’d ever find like this. He had his son, his family, his friends, his partner, and even if it wasn’t perfect, there was certainly hope.

[strawberrywritings]

Personal gratitude.

A/N: I am sorry about not posting, but I promise I’ll try to be more consistent!🙈 so let tell you how i wrote this: I was thinking about making a Bishop smut (long ovedue), but I had no plot… until @spookyboogyuniverse sent me a message. I changed a bit the relationship between the reader and Nestor+Miguel, but the main points of the plot are the same. Emily is nowhere to be seen because that’s how I like it lmao I really hope you guys like it! Xx🍓💖

Warning: mentions of violence, oral sex (female receiving), protected sexual intercourse, dirty talk, shitty plot and probably bad grammar i am so rusty

/ Masterlist

Summary: Alvarez gets kidnapped and you’re with Miguel and Nestor when they get the news: you offer your help, as Miguel calls the Mayans to join the search. After Marcus is found, everyone celebrates and the president has a unique way of showing his gratitude.

When shit went down, you immediately sensed it was something big, especially with the way Miguel and Nestor were looking. Being childhood friends with them, and not being a stranger to this life, you had waited for them to finish their meeting, and had offered to help.

/

“I know I may not have the same amount of connections you two have, but I know some people. I could call them and tell ‘em to keep an eye out”, you said, and Miguel looked at Nestor, not because he didn’t trust you, but he knew that this situation had to be handled with caution, so he wanted to make sure it would not compromise things even more.

When Nestor nodded, you stepped outside and started making calls, telling everyone only what they needed to know to make sure this whole thing ended quickly. You followed them with your car, making a few stops as Miguel alerted people.

“What the…”, you muttered to yourself as Miguel’s car, with Nestor driving, headed outside the city and towards the desert. You parked the car right behind them, hopping off and about to question what the hell you were doing in the middle of nowhere, but the sound of engines caught your attentions: quite a few bikes made their way to where you were standing, and you immediately recognized their kutte. Everyone knew who the Mayans were, but you had no idea Miguel worked with them. Eight men made their way towards Miguel, as you kept stading off to the side, your back leaned against your car while you waited for them to finish talking.

You might’ve been quiet, but your presence didn’t go unnoticed; you were focused on Miguel and Nestor explaining everything that happened to a man, who was standing a few steps ahead of the others, “probably the president”, you thought, and from the corner of your eye you could see people’s eyes on you, the exchanged whispers.

“What’s she doing here?”, a voice said, and Nestor looked at you as you narrowed your eyes at the tall man who had spoken. “She’s with me, you got a problem with that?”, Miguel said, never taking his eyes off the same man you were watching, and everyone was quick to say “no” and apologize.

/

Fast forward to the day after. Turns out, your contacts were able to actually help with Alvarez’s kidnapping, someone had seen the people responsible for it and, thanks to that, Nestor was able to track them down and now they were with Miguel in his church pew, he needed answer and he needed them fast. In less than 2 hours, not only did Miguel manage to find Marcus, but he also got everyone else involved in the kidnapping, and you didn’t have to ask what would happen to them. You might not have been completely involved in this kind of life, but you were no stranger to it. After Miguel had taken off his yellow raincoat and changed his suit, he came back home and joined you in the living room.

“I remember when we took that picture, I ate that awful soup she made because it was the only way she would let me go out and play”, he said, you could hear the smile in his face and you turned around, smiling, too. It was nice to be back to “normal” after the past few days, filled with worry, fear and rage.

“I remember how that soup tasted, I hated it, too”, you giggled, tracing your finger on the frame encasing the picture. Placing it back on the shelf, you smiled at him and got your purse from the sofa. “I think I should go, I am glad I was able to help, though”, you smiled, going over to him and hugging him, kissing his cheek. “Hey, there’s a party at that clubhouse, the Mayans. Marcus will be there and he asked me if you could come, he wants to thank you personally”, Miguel said, smiling at you as you nodded. “Sure, just text me the address”, he nodded and you both said goodbye, saying also goodbye to Nestor on your way out.

That night, you opted for a nice dress, still casual, since you knew where this clubhouse was and it was nothing compared to the parties Miguel usually attended, but it was nice to be celebrating something like this. After parking your car next to the bikes, you made your way inside. The Mayans sure knew how to throw a party. Alcohol and girls were everywhere, but you didn’t have time to make a tour of the place because Nestor got your attention.

“Hey – he greeted you by kissing both of your cheeks – come on, Marcus is eager to thank you”, he smiled, leading you to the man himself. Marcus didn’t look too bad, just a couple scratches on his face, and surely his body, but he was alive. You started talking, him saying how grateful he was that you helped Miguel.

“If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t be here”, he said, taking a sip from his beer. You chuckled and shook your head, “I doubt it, Miguel would’ve found you anyways, he’s very good at what he does… I just happened to make the right calls”, you said with a smile. You kept talking for a while, until you excused yourself to go get a drink.

Drink in hand, you leaned your back against the bar and looked around, until your eyes caught the ones of the president himself. Bishop was sitting with some of his men around a table, smoking a cigar. He had his eyes trained on you but from the way his lips moved you could tell he was still carrying on the conversation. Something in his eyes was drawing you in, but you quickly shoved your impure thoughts in the back of your mind and decided to explore the place, instead.

You took a stroll in the outside area, the actual scrapyard, the corridors of the dorms and then you ended up in Templo. You didn’t think nothing of it, examining the colorful door up close, and sitting in one of the chairs, finally some peace and quiet, which you had been craving for the past 72 hours.

“You wanna prospect?”, the voice almost gave you a heart attack, and you turned around to see Bishop staring down at you. “No…?”, you furrowed your brows. “Then unless you’re a patched Mayan, you can’t be in here”, he replied, walking slowly until he reached the bigger chair, right beside you, and he sat down. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t know…”, you had no idea there were rules, and you were ashamed of having broken them, you should’ve known better. You made a move of getting up from your seat, but he his hand caught your wrist before you could turn away. Your eyes went from his hold on you to his eyes, his expression stoic.

“I wanted to thank you”, he said, and it felt like he was shouting, the only sound was the chatter coming from the party. “For what?”. “Marcus es mi primo” Marcus is my cousin, he said, and you shrugged. “It’s no problem, really, I was glad I could help”, you gave him a small smile, but none of you talked more. His eyes were still locked with yours when he got up, his hand always around your wrist as he neared you, his body almost touching yours, almost. “Let me thank you properly”, his lips were centimeters away from yours, all you had to do was push yourself forward and your lips would meet. He didn’t move, letting you decide what to do… did you want this? Your eyes looked at his lips, plump and inviting, he smelled like nicotine and beer and something else and it was so manly. You couldn’t help but to give in, letting your body guide you into his, your lips finally connecting in a heated kiss. His hands immediately went to your hips, squeezing them in his hands and bringing you close to him. Everything happened in a blur, one second you were making out and the next you were laying on top of the big wooden table, your panties around your ankle and his head between your thighs, and damn, he was good.

“You sure you wanna keep going?”, you nodded, completely out of breath as he looked for his pants. “Condom?”, you asked him just as he took it out of his wallet, and he smiled at you even as he sat down on the president’s chair, putting on the condom and pumping himself. “Come take a ride, sweetheart”, his voice was like pure honey and you didn’t waist time, situating your legs on both sides of his hips before slowly starting to slide down onto him. Your mouth hung open as he filled you, and his hands returned to your hips, squeezing them to take him mind off the fact that he just wanted to fuck you senseless. You let out a high-pitched whine when he bottomed out, his balls pressing against your ass as he only had shoved his pants down enough to take out his dick. A smack to your right cheek brought you back to reality, “Move, cariño”, he said, his lips ghosting over your neck. You obeyed immediately, “Yes, sir”, you didn’t mean to call him that, it just slipped… this man was made to give orders and you would gladly obey, especially if it meant fucking him on top of his president’s  chair.

Your hips bounced on top of him, and you kept going even when your thighs started to ache from the strain: you were determined to cum, and between how good he felt inside you, his groans and moans, you knew it would not take long. One of his hands reached up and grabbed the side of your face, kissing you again before making a trail down your neck, your chest, and closing his lips around one of your exposed nipples. The sensation made you moan and clench around him, your hands now on his shoulder for leverage.

“Get on the table”, he spoke, biting gently on the skin of your breast, and you did as he told you. Spreading your legs wide with his hands, he spit directly onto your lips, spreading the moisture with the tip of his cock, before filling you up again and rolling his hips against yours. “Fuck, just like that”, you closed your eyes as one of your hands went to fondle your breasts, and he smirked. “Am I gonna make you cum?”, you nodded frantically as your moans got louder with every pump of his hips against yours. “Yes, please, please”, you mewled, and he slowed down, making you whine in protest. “Please what?”, he taunted, his eyes switching between your face and his dick disappearing inside you. “Please sir, please make me cum”, you shamelessly begged, your bruised hips rising up to meet his thrusts and your hand reaching your clit, touching yourself. “Así, tócate, touch yourself, cum all over my cock, nena”, his hands gripped your hips as he started to fuck you with wild abandon, not even bothering to try and keep quiet, both your moans echoing in the room.

When you reached your orgasm, it was like a hot flash, your eyes watered from the pleasure and you arched your back. Your pussy pulsated as it milked his dick, his growl ceasing once he was finished, taking a moment to breathe again. when he slid out of you, you let out a sight, you were sure his cock had you addicted and all you could think about was another round. Silence fell over you two as he tied the condom and zipped his pants back up; you had gotten down from the table, fixed your dress and your panties were back in their place.

“I should go”, you stated. “Don’t you wanna stay for the party?”, you chuckled and he smiled. “It’s okay, I already had as much fun as I could”, he smiled and opened the door of Templo for you. He watched as you made your way through the bodies cramped up in the small room, looking at him over your shoulder one last time before disappearing outside.

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[everyhowlmarksthedead]

YOU DON'T LOOK LIKE MY UBER DRIVER

Marcus Alvarez x Reader

Anon asked: Hey, could you do an imagine with Alvarez where the reader is a very close friend of Chucky and once she brought peach pie to the club and he's there for a meeting with Bishop, and she ask him if he wants some and she's overall really kind with him and his boys that he's surprised to see someone so nice to them even if it's the first time they met?

Thanks to my lovely beta reader @chibsytelford ✨

Word Count: 2.5k

Author comments: I hope you all enjoy. Gif isn't mine, credits to the author.

Tag list: @starrynite7114 ​ @chibsytelford ​ @dazzledamazon ​ @mara-mpou ​ @sammskellington ​ @gemini0410 ​ @1-800-imagines ​ @briana-mishell24 ​@sassymox @whyisgmora @aquamento @sadeyesgf @viviansafizada @samcrobae @jade770 @witchy-wish @rebel-without-cause-x @xx--day-dreamer--xx @spiced-reads @tita127 @ifoundmyhappythought @enamouravecleslivresetlechocolat ✨ (if you wanna be tagged, send me a message!)

Chuckie and you have been friends since four months ago, when you move from San Diego to Santo Padre. There was no reason to do it, you just feel tired of being you whole life living at your hometown, and you were looking for a change of scenery. You opened a bakery store in the center of the small city and he was your first customer. You thought he was a somewhat weird, until you met him a little more. Chuckie was kind and pretty gentle, so that made easy to turn you two from strangers into good friends. So, when he asked you to go to his birthday party, you didn't surprise. He also wanted to introduce you to his friends, even if you already met one called Happy, who was strangely kind when he tasted your pancakes. The biker with rough look told you they reminded him of what his mother used to prepare for him. At that point, you really stopped judging people by their looks.

Chuckie didn't ask you for a birthday cake, but you thought it would be a good gift cook his favourite one. Peach and cream. 

Parking at the entrance of the car scrapping, you hold the big cardboard box between your arms with a extreme care as if it was a bomb, following the rows made by scrap and the latin music sounding somewhere. You reach a crowded yard with a blue house in the middle of it and a lot of motorbikes around. You have already heard about the Mayans, but it's the first time you're there feeling somewhat small and lost.

“Yo! Man, who's that piece of art?” Angel says, among Coco and Gilly on the porch, watching you looking for Chukie.

“I don' know, let's see, hermano”. Gilly smirks at him, hitting his chest with a soft gesture.

“Can we help you, mami?” With a strong mexican accent, a skinny and tall man comes closer to you, pulling away the long strands of hair from the roots to the back of his head.

“Yeah… Ahm… Chukie?” You reply in a shy mood consuming you. “I'm (Y/N)”.

“He's insi—”.

“Hey, love!” A familiar voice interrupts him behind you.

“Happy! You're here too!” The man places an arm on your shoulders, taking the toothpick from his mouth to leave a kiss on your left cheek.

“Cake, uh?”

“Yeah. It's a present for Chukie”.

“You know her, brotha'?” Gilly asks then, a little bit curious.

“She has a bakery store here. Chuckie's friend, and also mine. Don' mess with her”. Happy's scratchy voice doing that warning makes you feel somewhat safe, even if they don't look as bad as you heard. “Come with me, love”.

Raising your chin like a farewell, for the moment, you let the man guides your steps inside the clubhouse where the music is a little low than outside. The men there are older than the other, sharing beers and laughs surrounded by a lot of girls. Girls that, by the way they have to caress and treat every one, you know what they are. But you don't even care.

“(Y/N)! You came!” Chuckie's excited voice claim for your attention, walking somewhat faster towards him when Happy lets you go, leaving the cake on the wooden bar so you can hug him tightly.

“Happy birthday!” You say before giving him a kiss, pointing after that the cake.

“Smells like peach! I accept that!” He looks like a five years old super excited, holding your hand to accompany you to a large room with a huge table in the middle of.

The men inside looks at you with curiosity, getting up from their chairs.

“That's my good friend, (Y/N)”.

“Nice to meet you, kid. I'm Tranq”. A big and tall one comes closer, narrowing your hand as you show him your best and dearly smile.

“Che Romero to serve you, but you can call me ‘Taza’”. Another man, the oldest one but with a kind smirk on his face does the same gesture.

“Bishop Losa, querida. A pleasure to meet you finally. Chukie talks a lot about you”. El Presidente hold your right hand gentle, leaving a paternal caress on the back of it.

“Yeah, they talk about you all too. I'm sorry it took me so long to finally come”. 

“We know about your bakery store, and that box you brought… smells pretty good from here, sweetheart”. Tranq says supporting his forearms on the top of a chair, making you chuckle.

“Is it yours?” An unknown man, with mexican accent and a light whistle pronouncing every ‘s’, appears at your back.

“Yes, sir”. You nod turning above your sneakers, feeling a soft jump shaking your heart when you focus your gaze on him.

“Marcus Álvarez”. He raises a hand on air, taking you some seconds to react, narrowing it when you start to feel stupid.

“(Y/N). Nice to meet you”. You just say.

“C'mon! I want to introduce you to my north Cali friends!” Chuckie sound so excited that makes you laugh, saying goodbye with a hand to the men smiling at you somewhat warm. 

You can't help but being so obliging with everything. Helping the prospect to take more beer from the warehouse, helping with the barbecue and the music. You just want to contribute at Chuckie's party because he's your friend and you want to make him feel the most special man on earth, at a day like this. You're having a lot of fun going from a side to the other, sneaking with other Mayans, mostly with Angel who looks so interested in dancing with you, in the way to help someone else. They're like a big family around California and some nearby states. And you felt like part of it since you put a foot there.

“Hey, kid, have a rest!”

Tranq has a hand raised, making a gesture to come closer. Leaving the box of Jose Cuervo over the bar, you nod walking towards the men you met at the main room a couple hours ago. Taza makes you some space by his side at the sofa, falling down there actually feeling somewhat tired. Bishop opens a beer for you, offering it before sitting in front of the sofa.

“Are you having fun?” He asks.

“Yes! I've never been in a… party like that. I like it. Reminds me to my family”.

“All drunk and a little high?” Tranq laughs, exactly like you do.

“Yeah, more or less. I'm from San Diego, but my family are from Guadalajara”.

“So you're used to this kind of celebration, but without the bikers part”. Taza jokes a little, making you nod again.

“What about Chuckie and you? Just friends?” Seems like Bishop wanted to ask that a while ago.

“Just friends. He was my first customer. He's cool and smart. And knows a lot of things. But, just friends”. You say then, understanding that they want to endorse their friend.

“Chuckie is a good man. Somewhat weird. But he's loyal”. Tranq ads then, drinking from his beer with pursed lips.

“I assume you're single”. Bishop says leaning forwards somewhat above the table. 

You laugh a little bit nervous and ashamed, covering your mouth slightly with a hand.

“I'm just asking to protect your ass from my dogs”. He assure infecting his laughter to the others, knowing well that he's referring to the first men you met before finding Happy. But you also know there's something else hiding behind that question.

You're not stupid. You have seen sideways Marcus looking at you at four times. And even if you didn't asked him about his gazes, looks like he wants to talk with you and doesn't know how to do it without scare you. Guns, long rides, a lot of risks… Sounds like it's not easy to live with. And, because of their behavior, family is the most important thing for them. Put something like that into a danger it's not an option. But even if it's just your thoughts not being sure if he's interested, you could try. You hear him talking with other women there in a gentle way, taking care about them as only a good man, and also a good father, could do. The work he does, doesn't determine how he is. And you like it. You like him since you heard his voice, feeling that good energy around as soon as he was close to you.

The night passed by, between more beers, tequila shots and pieces of the cake you made. It's been a long time since you had some fun. Everyone is delighted with it and you're more happy than other days because of the alcohol. And because of that, you decide to take a first step, knowing that you probably are going to regret it. So getting up, and pretending you're okay, your steps follow Marcus direction to the room they called Templo. 

“Hey!” You say, sounding more excited than you should. “Did you taste the cake?”

The mexican turns at you, surprised at first because he didn't expect you. Smiling at you, he just simply nods wearing the black leather kutte after clean it with a wet rag, looking shiny than a while ago.

“Good!” You reply feeling truly stupid, not knowing what you can say to continue the talk. But he's staring at you like if he was waiting for something else. Like you leaving, for example. “Well, I just… I'm goin' home and I was asking myself if you liked it, 'cause you don' look seem very talkative”.

“It was a long day”. He says walking closer to your position. “You're not going to drive, aren't you?”

“No, ahm… Chuckie told me I could leave my car here, so I'm gonna call an Uber”. You shake your head, making a gesture with your left hand to take away its importance. 

“Where do you live, ah?”

“Second avenue, next to the post office. It's ten minutes walking, but Angel make me dance too much”.

That's the point. That's the hook ready to fish, and you don't know how the hell you have thrown it in such an amazing move. Marcus doesn't say anything about it, erasing the relaxed gesture from his face.

“It was a pleasure…” Focusing on the vest, you read one of the patches. “Padrino. I hope you enjoy the party”.

He nods in silence before seeing you turn over your steps to walk outside of the room. You say goodbye faster than you would like, promising that you will come back soon, looking for Chukie after that. He's with Happy next to the Mayans bikes sharing some drinks and old memories.

“Hey, guys!” With both hands into the pockets of the jacket, you smile at them. 

“Are you leaving, love?” The taller one asks, giving you back two kisses.

“Yeah, I'm kinda tired and I should work tomorrow”. You say before hugging Chukie tightly. “Thanks for inviting me, it was pretty fun”.

“I'll visit you tomorrow anyway!” He says blissful as always.

“Cool! Good night, guys”.

“Rest, love”.

At least you can walk straight through the hallway of the scrapping, right to the street. Rubbing your face with both hands, you feel like an idiot about the idea of Marcus having some interest, hoping he thinks you drunk too much. By the way, the fresh and cold air of the dawn helps you a little, crossing your arms before reach your car. You look at it, ready to drive it, but doesn't look like a good idea. So you finally leave it there, continuing with slow steps to the outside of the place, until the roar of an engine calls your attention. Turning aside, you find him stopping at your position.

“C'mon, I will take you home”. The mexican is giving you a black helmet, turning off the bike.

“Oh, no, no. Don't worry”. You say with pursed lips, feeling the shame running through your body, pretending you're waiting for the Uber car with your phone in a hand.

“C'mon, chamaca”. He insists moving his arm again, knowing that he'll not take ‘no’ for an answer.

Biting your lower lip, you nod holding it to sit behind him. Wrapping his waist with both arms, you try to relax yourself on your way back home, noticing that he's driving slower than normal. But you're not going to complain about it, resting your chest on his back getting somewhat comfy until he reaches your avenue. Then, the nerves return again when you have to point the building where you live at. Marcus parks there, letting you get up first.

“Thank you”. You just say pretending that everything is okay, while you return him the helmet. 

“The cake was delicious”. 

Raising your gaze from the keys you were looking for, your eyes go straight to the darkest. Now, he is who wants to talk, although he doesn't sound insecure as you did. You smile like an idiot, playing with the key chain and the nose bridge slightly wrinkled.

“I don't know if you are into the date game, bu—”.

“Yeah, tell Angel I would like it”. You're teasing him for making you wait and making you feel stupid for some minutes. And by the way his steps towards you stop dead and the look on his, you know it worked.

“I will”. He just replies back, tightening the gloves around his wrists.

“Really?”

“Sure, chamaca”.

You laugh somewhat funny, taking another step closer.

“You should see the look on your face”.

“I don't know what are you talking about”. He gives you his back somewhat prideful, keeping the helmet you used into a bag hanging by a side of the motorbike.

“You were looking at me”. You finally say licking your lips, after clicking your tongue slightly.

“Looked like you were part of the fam'”. He answers automatically, sitting on the bike with both hands catching the handlebar.

“Was it bad?”

“No. I actually liked seeing you taking care of my boys, when no one asked you to do it”. Even if that sounded a little passive-aggressive at the end, doesn't stop you to come closer enough to face him.

“I would really like to have a date with you, if that it… was you were to ask”.

“What if it wasn't?” Now, Marcus is playing your same game, at least, you hope it.

“Me sentiré aún más pendeja”. (I'll feel more stupid). You chuckle rubbing your nose in a nervous gesture.

The man laughs because of your words, shaking his head for a while. Then, he nods.

“I want it. Maybe I asked mi primo if he could find out what was going on between you and Chuckie”.

“Just ‘maybe’?”

“I'll pick you up tomorrow night. At seven?”

You lean towards him, leaving a soft kiss on his right cheek as a way to accept it.

[fedeipox]

The Way of Time (Rdr2 fanfic) - Chapter 6 (2/3)

Part 1 here: https://fedeipox.tumblr.com/post/640021017292636160/the-way-of-time-rdr2-fanfic-chapter-6-13

Chapter 6 (2/3) - Something acceptable

Words: 3,3k

Javier watched her carefully: her face had acquired an unusual glow and her eyes were sparkling with childish enthusiasm. He wasn’t sure she was understanding how hard and dangerous it was. Planning a robbery was no game, but at the same time her presence there was a great impulse for him, and he couldn’t understand why. 

“Let’s say we get rid of the sheriff, do you think you can hold off the doctor and all the men behind that door?” she asked.

“If I take the doctor as hostage, yes, I reckon killing three or four men won’t be a problem.”

“Killing?”

Their eyes met and it was at that moment that Javier had the certainty that she had no idea of what they were going towards. Did she really think that was some kind of game?

“How do you expect me to hold off all the men inside there without killing them?” he asked.

“I don’t know but please don’t kill them” she complained.

“What if they shoot first?”

“Well… in that case you can… defend yourself, I think. But not the doctor, please. He’s innocent of all of this. I mean, he has an illegal activity, but he’s still a doctor, he helps people.”

“What if he recognizes me and gives my identity to the sheriff?”

She seemed to think deeply about it, then, just like she had received the enlightenment she looked at him and said: “do you really think he’s going to the sheriff and tell him somebody robbed his illegal business?”

He had to admit it made perfect sense. Javier took a deep sigh looking straight at her and her big sweet eyes before he gave in. Yes, the man was a healer, an important figure for the town, that was the only reason why he wasn’t going to kill him. 

“So, for the sheriff, I might have an idea” she said in the end.

...

The plan was established, they all knew what they had to do, now the problem was put it into practice. Emily was proud of her ideas, years and years of thriller movies and crime novels had taught her how to plan a robbery, how to create a diversion, and most of all that you must always have a plan B. 

Even though she kept saying to herself that steal to other criminals wasn’t a real crime, she knew in her heart that it was an excuse, and she couldn’t get out of her head the idea that what they were doing was wrong. But at the same time the thought of a crime, of doing something that shouldn’t be done, excited her like a child at the sight of a playground, and she was both ashamed and afraid of that feeling. Was she turning into a criminal? One of those people who like doing bad things?

She leant her back against the wood of the building, right next to the door of the saloon, and waited patiently for Bill to come.

It was too late now for a rethinking: here goes nothing.

They had chosen Bill for the part of the drunk surly brawler, the perfect man according to Javier. He would put on a fight at the saloon and Emily was the one responsible of calling the attention of the sheriff to said fight, while Javier had to collect the money. 

The second saloon of Valentine wasn’t as big as the Smithfield, but Emily had sweared she wasn’t going to put another foot inside that terrible place. Besides, that one had also fewer customers, but definitely drunker, which was perfect for Bill to start a brawl without making too much an effort. 

He showed up from the end of the street, sitting astride on his huge brown horse that he stopped at the post. He slowly got down and adjusted his pants with an overdramatic attitude before he tied the animal and with a heavy and swinging walk he reached the porch.

“Miss” he said touching the brim of his hat.

Emily nodded to him just like they didn’t know each other. That was part of the plan. He got inside and asked for a whiskey with an unnecessary loud voice. She shook her head deploring the man’s acting skills, but it turned out his fake high tone helped their cause because someone complained about him and after an exchange of insults, Emily heard exactly what she needed: men punching each other.

Without wasting time she ran down the steps of the porch and on the muddy street to reach the sheriff’s office. With every step her boots dipped in the mud and in her mind she blessed whoever had invented the asphalt.

Javier looked at her as she reached the sheriff’s door and walked inside. He was standing right around the corner of the doctor’s building, checking the door for unusual movements or patients. No-one. That day the apothecary had no customers, which was perfect. If everybody had done their part well, and if Bill hadn’t caused any trouble, that job was going to be a success.

“Sheriff, I need your help, there’s a fight at the saloon” said Emily walking inside the poorly lit room.

There, there were two men dressed more or less in the same way and she had no idea who of them was the sheriff, so after she said the words she moved her eyes from one to the other hoping they wouldn’t notice her ignorance about sheriffs.

“Again? This town is a nightmare” said the man seated behind the desk, “which one?”

“Keane’s” Emily answered readily.

“George, go check it” he ordered to the other man.

Emily needed two seconds to understand what was happening: the sheriff was sending the deputy, that way he didn’t have to lift his ass from the chair, which was exactly what she wanted him to do.

“No” she exclaimed making both of them look at her.

“They have guns, sheriff, and they seem determined to use them. I think it’s better if you go check personally” she lied.

He brought a hand to his face to rub his eyes and took a deep breath before standing up.

“Okay, let’s go.”

As soon as she walked out, followed by the two men, Javier turned the corner of the building, gave a look around making sure no-one was watching him and raised his bandana on his face. With that and the large hat he hoped not to be identified by the doctor.

“Don’t do anything stupid, friend. I just want to take a look at the room on the back” he said raising his handgun to the doctor’s chest. 

“Sir, please, you don’t want to get involved with them, I-I promise you.”

“Let me choose who I want to get involved with. Now open the door.”

“Okay… okay.”

Emily turned her head for a second and glanced at the apothecary wondering how Javier was doing. In her heart she hoped he wouldn’t hurt anyone. Her friend, her kind Mexican friend, who kills someone in cold blood. The idea was extremely troubling for her.

“How many men are we talking about, Miss?” asked the deputy.

“Erm, two or three. They seemed quite dangerous.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll take care of them.”

“No doubt.”

Javier followed the doctor until they reached the heavy iron door. He laid his back on the wall right next to it and with his gun still pointed at the man’s chest he made a brief nod of his head. The doctor knocked.

“Hey, i-it’s me. I-I’ve brought you fellers some food and whiskey” he said.

Javier heard the little window opening and flattened even more against the wall not to be seen.

“Yeah, it’s only the doc” said someone from the other side and then the sound of steel against steel made him understand it was his moment.

He grabbed the man from behind, pointing the gun to his head and pushed him inside the room among the confused expressions of four people.

When they reached the saloon, Emily let the sheriff and the deputy walk inside and deal with Bill and the other two drunkards, while she stopped on the porch waiting to see Javier in the distance telling her he was done.

“Hey, stop! Stop it right now! What are you doing?” she heard the sheriff shouting.

“This little piece of shit here was insulting me, I just came for a drink!” replied Bill. 

“You couldn’t keep your mouth shut, you big asshole!”

Another struggle started just in time when Emily heard a series of shots, one after the other, in the distance, and she imagined them coming from the doctor’s office. She moved her eyes from the men inside the saloon to the road, but thanks to the noise they were making, the sheriff and his deputy hadn’t heard the gunfire. She couldn’t tell the same about the people out in the street, who started looking around them suspiciously. 

Without wasting any more time, conscious that someone had heard the noise of his gun, Javier let the doctor go and started collecting all the money from the table at the centre of the room. Then, he looked inside the safety boxes, the crates, under the mattress, all under the shocked look of the doctor who hadn’t moved from where Javier had left him.

“You won’t say a thing, right?” he asked menacingly.

“Oh, n-no sir. Y-you’ve liberated me. T-they were awful, they were forcing me to do this.”

“Good, happy to help.”

After he took the last wad of cash, he walked to the back door, opened it and went outside.

“Okay, now go, and I don’t want to see your ugly faces ever again, is that clear! Or next time I’ll lock you all up for the rest of your pathetic lives!” said the sheriff kicking the three men out of the door.

Emily gave a last look down the road where Javier was waving at her before she turned around to smile at the sheriff and the deputy.

“Thank you, I was scared to death they could have killed each other” she said.

“Nothing to be scared about, Miss. These things always end with a couple of bruises and a broken nose, nothing more. Anyway, you better stay away from saloons, they’re not a place for a lady” replied the sheriff walking away.

Emily reached Bill, next to his horse, and whispered “done” before she walked down the road again to reach Javier who had left his horse behind the church. When she saw him in the distance, waiting for her with a cigarette between his lips, she couldn’t restrain her enthusiasm anymore and ran in his direction jumping around and radiating excitement.

“So, how much? How much?” she asked with a jiggling laugh.

“Shh quiet. I don’t know, I didn’t count them. Come on, let’s head back to camp.”

“How’s the doctor?”

“Still alive, but I can’t say the same about the four assholes in the room” he replied taking her form her waist and making her sit on the back of Boaz. 

“Were they armed?” she asked with a little less enthusiasm.

“Yes, and they were forcing the doctor to run the illegal poker game. He was the victim of all of that” he answered mounting up.

...

Unexpectedly, her reaction to those people death wasn’t as terrible as she imagined it to be, but she still couldn’t believe Javier had done it: the man right in front of her, to whose waist she was grabbing not to fall from the horse, had just killed four people. She was both intrigued and scared by him at that moment: what if he was one of those who enjoyed violence?

“How does it feel? When you kill someone?” she asked.

Javier didn’t answer immediately, he thought a little about it first. How did he feel when he killed a man? He felt nothing. He was aware that there were some people in the world who liked killing, who felt powerful by doing it, and other people who felt awful, but for him it was just a matter of survival. If the man who was facing him was a threat for his life, he had to kill him. Only once he had allowed his emotions to take over and he had paid the bitter price for that.

“It’s not the act of killing itself that makes you feel something, but the reason why you’re doing it” he explained.

“There is no valid reason for killing someone” she stated.

“Oh no, every reason is good for killing someone, you just have to decide if that reason is good enough for you.”

“If you put it that way, everyone could kill anybody in the world.”

“And isn’t it exactly what happens?”

“I disagree. What you do is acting like God, you have no right to do that.”

“But if I hadn’t killed those men, now we wouldn’t have the money to buy supplies for the camp.”

Emily huffed. It was impossible to argue with him, it was a tricky matter and he was both wrong and right, but what he had said made her think about something else.

“What about Dutch on that ferry? What good reason did he have to kill that girl?”

“He… we were up against the wall, our lives were in danger.”

“And killing a girl solved everything?”

“No y-you… you wasn’t there, you can’t understand.”

“Whatever you say won’t change my mind. Killing is wrong. Always.” Javier couldn’t understand: she kept saying that killing was wrong, but he had just killed four people to put some food in her belly, how could that be wrong?

When they reached camp they found Bill dismounting his horse. They parted the money in three exact parts and Emily found out she had gained twenty-five dollars and forty-five cents. Finally she had her own money and with it a part of her freedom, but to gain that freedom she had had to sentence to death someone else. 

Javier had said they weren’t good people, that they were coercing the doctor to give them the room for their affairs and obliging him to keep his mouth shut, and this, added to the fact that they needed that money for the supplies, made her feel a little less sorry for their death. Maybe what they had done wasn’t good, but at least acceptable. 

“Remember to put some in the box” said Javier before he walked away and he didn’t had to repeat it twice. 

Emily walked to Dutch’s tent where she found Miss O’Shea writing something on a paper. 

“Hi Molly” she said and walked all around the tent to reach the barrel with the box.

“Hi, how are you?” Molly asked politely.

“Actually, I’m pretty good. Look at this!” she exclaimed showing her the money.

“We’ve robbed an illegal poker game.”

“Good, so now we can make this place better.”

“What do you mean? Make it better?”

“Yes, we use the money in the box for supplies and camp improvements. Look” she said standing up and reaching her side.

“If you go to this page, you can see what everybody thinks it should be done to make this dump a little more livable. And here you have to write your name and what you are leaving in the box.”

Emily was amazed from how they had thought about everything. On the page of the improvements there were all kind of requests: from chickens, which surely belonged to Pearson, to pelts and covers to make the sleeping spots more comfortable, and there even was a joker named Mac who had written “a castle”, and right after another one named Davey - one of those who had died in the mountains, Emily remembered that - who had written “a brain for my brother”.

Emily laughed at those puns and then wrote her name on the donation page leaving on the box the spare five dollars and forty-five cents she had.

“Alright, thank you, Molly. Sorry if I interrupted you. What were you writing by the way?”

“Oh, nothing, just a stupid poem” she replied.

“A poem? Can I read it?”

“It’s not finished.”

“I don’t mind. Can I?”

...

Molly nodded and let Emily inside her tent, making her sign to sit on the cot by her side before she handed her the poem. She looked at her shyly as the girl ran her eyes on the piece of paper and when she ended her heart gave a slight jump.

“What do you think?” she asked.

“It’s great. Is this how it happened? With Dutch?”

“How do you know that’s Dutch?” she inquired.

“It’s obvious. So you came here, met him and fell in love with him, but now you feel like you gave him all you could give, and this makes you empty somehow, and this emptiness makes you feel worthless too.”

Molly kept looking at her with her mouth half open: how could she understand all of that from the poem? 

“How… how can you…”

“Can I tell you something? Don’t beat yourself up. Your worth doesn’t lie with him, your worth doesn’t lie with anyone but yourself.”

How? How could that girl so young, so innocent, so naive read inside her mind? 

“You don’t… you don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re young, you’re just a child.”

“Yes, you’re probably right. But I’ve seen too many women in love with men who don’t deserve them not to recognize one.”

“You know nothing! He loves me and I love him! Go, get out of here!”

She stood up and looked at Emily with her eyes on fire. She had centered the problem and now Molly felt vulnerable, and this weakness made her angry. 

“Yes, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that” she said in a hurry and stood up in turn.

“But if you… if you want to talk, about anything, I’m here, okay?”

Molly didn’t answer, she kept looking at Emily with that furrowed brow that hid all her insecurities, and in the end Emily walked out of her tent and away from her.

[real-jaune-isms]

RWBY Volume 8 Chapter 7 Review/Remix

Last episode before the holiday break. The long long long holiday break. And here I am only posting my review the night before we come back... I was having a lot of fun playing my new video games, okay? Let’s just get right into this with the joke everyone has already made. War: What is it good for? Actually a lot, if you can believe it. Only in this specific context though, because the warfare in the American streets these last few days is disgusting and emblematic of what has been wrong with the country for a while. A government leader sending his followers into the nation’s capital on a mission of rage and personal catharsis? Ick. At least in RWBY the tyrant isn’t attacking members of his own population... Oh wait, Mantle. :P

For a moment you might be fooled into thinking we’re starting back in the farmlands of Mistral, maybe getting another look at Oscar’s earlier life or seeing a little more of Nora’s mysteriously tragic past before she and Ren met. But no, these are the wheat farms on the outskirts of Atlas and Sabyrs are charging through like raptors through the tall grass in Lost World. A battalion of Atlesian soldiers, human soldiers I might add, stand armed to meet them. But even if they’re armed they are by no means ready. Monstra keeps coughing up a new wave of Grimm, and I do mean a wave, every minute or two and Atlas is pretty damn whelmed in the face of it. There are some big bots with guns standing in straight lines, but the majority of the defense put up by Remnant’s supreme authority on military power and strength is mortal men with fear in their hearts rather than expendable robot soldiers. And the big bots seem to be lined up in a way that the ones in the front block the ones in the back, so that’s just poor planning too. It’s just a concerning sight all together, and they are not efficiently handling the coming enemy. We cut up to Ironwood in his office, and it seems he is not dealing with this situation well at all. We know he’s under a lot of stress from all the recent events, but they are in fact mostly his own fault due to his poor decision making skills in times of crisis, and his single minded drive he calls a Semblance. Speaking of the eternally expanding list of Ironwood’s bad ideas, he decides to evacuate all the civilians into Atlas’ below ground subway tunnels. Fun fact: There were Apathy among the Grimm Monstra has been spitting out. Second Fun Fact: Apathy were last seen thriving and murdering in an abandoned underground tunnel system beneath a well. If one is familiar with fantasy television pop culture of the last decade, the Crypts of Winterfell might pop into your mind as a similarly poor place to hide all your unarmed women and children. Y’know, cuz in Game of Thrones they were facing a guy who could raise the dead as his minions and crypts are just tunnels full of corpses. Just saying, this could end up being a non-birthday massacre. Whatever captain of lieutenant Ironwood was talking to is hesitant to go along with this idea, but Ironwood puts his foot down by putting his fist down. And so his voice comes on over the city-wide PA system to tell everyone they need to get down into the subway for their own safety. Compared to the organized marching and relative calm of the poor folks down in Mantle, these rich fat cats practically trample each other to run and scream down the stairs. A father is concerned his daughter is going to get snatched up by a swarm of Lancers, but seems even more upset by the squad of airships swooping in to combat them. 

Speaking of airships, we cut to the one Marrow and Harriet are flying. The Ace Ops have arrested YRJ, because of course they did, and they all hear radio chatter as pilots are reporting in about how Monstra is too tough for them to pierce from the outside with any of the weapons available to them. Winter checks in over comms to report her team’s limited successes, and Ironwood tells her to stay on jailor duty for a bit. Yang snarks at Winter for continuing to follow orders despite the circumstances, but conversation is stifled by Monstra coming into view for the group. Jaune laments that the beast now serving as Oscar’s confinement is larger than they had imagined from a distance, and Vine continues to be rigid in his assertions as to just what Grimm can and cannot do. “Grimm don’t take prisoners” he says, as if that’s an irrefutable fact. It’s not like any Grimm have done anything new or unheard of recently, like talk or grow wings or exist within a river of evil sludge or shoot up miles into the air as a geyser or have gravity Dust crystals in their underbelly to fly, or as you are witnessing right now belch out ponds worth of sludge from with waves of Grimm are emerging to fight your ground troops. Yep, we definitely know every single thing a Grimm does, especially one brought here by the mistress of the entire Grimm collective who is commanding most of them here. You sure are smart, Vine... Yang continues to be riled up and ask they be let go to help, but Elm and Vine hold her in her seat. Ironwood is heard giving the Manta jets new orders and reveals Command is working on a solution for Monstra. Winter, naturally wanting to be kept in the loop, asks what that might be. He reveals the science team is putting together a bomb that might be able to take the whale out if detonated inside it. That means Winter and the Ace Ops will be delivering it into the literal belly of the beast. I don’t know if he intends for it to be a suicide mission with the bomb going off as soon as they’ve got it inside, or if it’s just incredibly risky to try and get inside Monstra at all, but Winter pales at this news and her eyes go wide before sadly drooping closed again. She composes herself and grows determined again as she accepts the new marching orders. Jaune and Yang are again audibly against these plans due to the risk to Oscar’s safety, but they are subdued as needed, though we see Winter’s act isn’t absolute and her hands are shaking.

Meanwhile, Salem is having the time of her life doing her best Mickey Mouse impression. Classical music plays as she conducts the waves of Grimm sludge out of Monstra’s mouth like the Sorcerer’s Apprentice playing conductor to the stars themselves. Emerald watched from a distance, and seems less than thrilled about the whole thing. She heads down the halls and has to use her Semblance to keep a Seer from noticing her and potentially reporting her going where she doesn’t need to be to Salem. And where she’s going is the door outside Oscar’s torture room. He’s coughing up blood, and Hazel is still insisting he start telling the truth before Salem loses her patience and just kills him despite how futile it’d be. Instead Oz starts asking some questions of his own: Does Hazel know why Salem sought to recruit him in particular? It turns out she approached him with the promise of making a new world order where there won’t be any kingdoms or Huntsman Academies. Oz just has to laugh at that naiveté. When Salem gets the 4 Relics, there won’t be a world at all. She’s been around for so goddamn long, all she wants is for it to end, and she thinks taking the whole world down is the only way to get it anymore. This just frustrates Hazel, and we learn why. He’s pretty damn sure Salem can’t die at all, because when she first approached him about working together he spent the better part of a day killing her over and over and over again. This man, whom we know from the Battle of Haven to have massive reserves of Aura and strength to endure and keep fighting, kept fighting until he was too worn down and exhausted to lift his fists again. And in that time of weakness and awe at her power, Salem made her sales pitch that even if he couldn’t kill the one leading the Grimm he could at least have vengeance on the establishment sending young people to their deaths against her. Oz points out that that’s exactly why she went to him, because she could make him believe this was the right way, that it would bring him closure. It’s what Ozpin deserves, Hazel argues, and Oz does not disagree. But does Oscar deserve it? Do the innocent people who haven’t been affected by Salem or Ozpin yet?  No, this isn’t for justice, this is personal. Because Salem said it would help Hazel. Has it?

We don’t get an answer to that, instead going back up to Weiss’ room in Schnee Manor where she’s reapplying Nora’s bandages. Still mostly unconscious, Nora mutters “Now what... am I good for?” I can think of a great many things Nora is useful for outside of her great strength and straightforward approach to combat, but its a damn shame no one has actually bothered to tell her that before now. Before Weiss has a chance to offer any, Blake and Ruby enter the room with cups of tea. I’m not ashamed to admit I initially thought they were hot chocolate cuz I’m not used to tea being that sort of amber color. Weiss admits that she’s done the most her limited medical knowledge can offer, and Nora needs more than that. Blake expresses her concern for the other half of their group, but almost slips up and says... well we’re just not sure, but we like to assume she was gonna say she’s especially worried for someone in particular. The shippers can fill that in how they like. Their moping is interrupted by May entering the room with some less than stellar news from Fiona and the others down in Mantle. They haven’t seen Yang’s team in a while, and with everything going to hell like this a search party is at the bottom of the priority list. She’s about ready to get back on the airship and head back down to Mantle, but Weiss protests and this sparks a debate. May points out that Mantle doesn’t have the luxury of the Atlas military protecting them so Ruby’s group and the Happy Huntresses are the only thing keeping the people safe from the chaos of the invasion, but Weiss argues that there are still people suffering up her and I have to agree. Just because a police force is around doesn’t automatically mean they’re doing the best job of keeping everyone safe. But Weiss pushes the wrong button by asking about May’s family. The Marigold’s were ashamed of the way their “son” acted, wanting to help the suffering down in Mantle. And so May would no longer let herself be called that, she became a woman proudly working as part of the Happy Huntresses for the service of the people. She kicked her Marigold name and reputation to the curb and her cousin Henry stepped up as the socialite snob instead. 

This cannot have been an easy scene for Kdin to record, but we all need to give a standing ovation for her performance in it. Powerful words that likely hit very close to home. What a queen.

May is sure Weiss gets where she’s coming from with their families casting them aside in favor of a more obedient heir, her being replaced by Whitley after her outburst at the charity concert. Weiss wants to voice her disagreement, but May questions whose side she’s on in all this. Blake doesn’t like that, they’ve heard this talk about taking sides before and judging by her tone she’s none too happy to be hearing it now. May is about to give her a strongly worded piece of her mind too but Ruby stands between them to remind everyone there are no sides. All of humanity needs to be united, and Salem is the one creating the tension that’s dividing them so their real enemy is her. The only question now is how do they get out of this problem? The solution might be hiding just around the corner, literally. Whitley has been listening from behind the door, and he seems a little inspired.

Meanwhile Oz seems to have just finished telling Salem’s dark cursed backstory to Hazel, and it seems her final plan really is to have the world so divided and ruined that when the gods are brought back to judge it they will deem Remnant a failure and destroy it and hopefully her with it. Hazel seems less than inclined to believe this story though, he still holds a damn hard grudge over his sister. Oz is getting nowhere so Oscar asks to be put back in the lead, and so he is just as Hazel is about to wallop them again. Oz is willing to trust him so he can earn Hazel’s trust in return. So he goes right ahead and tells the big guy Jinn’s name and that it’s how you summon her for one last question. Hazel seems mad that Oscar gave up the info so effortlessly after all that, but Oscar asserts that he’s not telling Salem. He’s telling Hazel, and letting him decide what to do with the knowledge and the chance to gain deeper knowledge still. Pretty rad strategy. Wouldn’t you know it though, Emerald is still listening outside the door and heard everything. She goes to tell Mercury, but he’s busy packing a duffel bag for a trip to Vacuo. Guess Salem doesn’t need him here right now so we’ll get to see him again in Volume 9 or 10. He’s less than convinced that they should try and use this behind the scenes knowledge to go against Salem, cuz if Hazel couldn’t do it then why would he change his tune now? And why would they risk their necks too? It’s not like Oz was telling the truth, right? Salem isn’t really gonna destroy the world! But the teens get another surprise lecture from Uncle Tyrian: Of course Salem plans to destroy Remnant!! You couldn’t tell from the start? Everything about her screams end of the world, and it is beautiful! And if you thought she’d do anything different then you must really be crazy... Bold worlds from a psychotic serial killer, but we already know he’s unhinged. Mercury doesn’t much like getting this rude awakening though, especially since Tyrian will be the one going with him to Vacuo. Merc and Em share one last sad look, but he’s made his bed and now he’s resigned to lie in it. Bye bye Mercury, see you after Emerald has probably switched sides and will have to face you as an enemy...

Speaking of ships soaring through the air, we go back to the Ace Ops and YJR heading for Monstra. Yang is protesting the bombing plan since Oscar is still inside, but Vine insists they can’t afford to wait and risk further death and destruction. Jaune offers a side plan, send the three inside Monstra ahead of the bombing squad to scope things out for them and try to rescue Oscar while they’re doing recon. Marrow is shocked that they’d be willing to go into the literal belly of the beast alone, but Yang asserts he’d do the same for one of his teammates if they were in this position, right? He doesn’t have an answer for that. Elm argues that trading their lives just for one other person is stupid, but amazingly it is Ren who objects. Oscar is their friend, and they will do whatever it takes for someone they care about like that. A real turnaround from his attitude of closing himself off emotionally, but I guess he’s realizing how ridiculous it sounds coming from other people? Harriet gets out of her seat to do what she does best and start talking down to someone as naïve and wrong. Feelings are stupid, the job is what matters. When you lose someone you just replace them and forget about them. We find out that Winter is indeed meant to be the new leader instead of Clover, and before Marrow there was apparently a member of the team named Tortuga, but Ren is not about to let anyone tell him that someone is replaceable. You don’t say that to Team JNPR, and we definitely don’t say that about Ren... Not now. In his outrage, Ren suddenly finds... clarity. He starts seeing the world a little differently. In less cryptic terms, his Semblance seems to have evolved and he now sees people’s emotions swirling around them as colorful bursts of flower petals. Harriet is actually furious about losing Clover, she’s lying to herself and trying to suppress her feelings. She does not like being called out like that, but the rest of the squad needs to be put on blast. As opposed to Hare’s red petals Marrow is surrounded by blue that I guess would mean sadness or depression, Elm has orange and some red, and Vine is clouded with green. The meanings of the last two are a little less clear, but they’re all definitely feeling some strong things that they’re trying to hide under a calm façade. This is the reason the Ace Ops lost to RWBY, they’re all held back by trying not to connect with each other so unity and team bonds never formed. Elm does not like being told she’s a loser because she won’t make friends, but at least it’s a a reaction, which means he’s absolutely right. She’s about to deck Ren in the face but Winter steps in to get everyone calmed down. She looks these three “fugitives” over, and makes a decision. She’s going to trust her sister’s friends. They will get the teens in close and give them a small window of time to try and get in and out before the Ace Ops need to bring in the payload and blow it all away. Harriet is pissed Winter is giving these “traitors” a chance, and questions her decision thusly. But you’re outranked, you boob, and you can’t do a damn thing to stop her from showing human decency. They have a very tight schedule to attempt this rescue, and Jaune accepts that fully. The three get uncuffed and are given their weapons back as the ship lands at the front lines. Ren tries to appeal to the doubt and regret he can see in Marrow to get him to switch sides while the getting’s good. Marrow wants to, but he sticks to the job for now. Yang and Jaune head out first, while Ren lingers to tell Winter he knows she doesn’t want to be a part of all this anymore either, and we see a rainbow of many emotional petals around her head. Either she has a balance of many emotions in check and is the most levelheaded of the Ace Ops, or she has the most emotions repressed and her mind is a tempest of feelings that aren’t being addressed and may spell her end... take your pick.

As this militant Schnee considers her options, we go homeward to see Weiss and the others heading for the front door. May isn’t keen to stay her any longer than needed, and the kids need to make a choice about where she’s dropping them off. Either they go to the front lines here in Atlas or back down to Mantle to help with the chaos there. No other options, and especially no breaking their jailbirds out for an assist. May doesn’t have the optimism and heroic hope that Ruby still holds dear, she won’t entertain the idea that this can become a complete victory all around. This isn’t that kind of world. Either they help one place, or they help another. And even then, that’s no guarantee wherever they go will be successful at stopping the invasion. It’s very depressing, and it’s on these kids to accept the facts and make the hard decisions. If you take a look at the last few Volumes, Ruby does seem to have a bit of a habit of ignoring the dreadful possibilities/facts in favor of pursuing a hopeful and bold plan that could fix everything immediately so she doesn’t have to cope with reality and actually grieve her mistakes and losses... I’m not saying it makes her a bad character or that she’s wholly wrong for trying to see a bright side whenever possible, just that this is an unhealthy strategy for a leader with so much on her shoulders. But before anyone has time to make a decision right now, there’s a hard knock on the front door. Everyone draws their weapons and approaches slowly, before Weiss cautiously opens the door. In a most definitely welcome surprise, she is greeted by Klein!!! She missed him dearly, and apologizes for whatever fault she had in his being fired, but while cycling through personalities he assures her she has nothing to be sorry for since it’s all Jacques’ fault, the bastard. Turns out, Klein is here to use his medical knowledge to treat Nora. What, didn’t you know all butlers to heroic millionaires have field medic training? Alfred Pennyworth set the gold standard, I dare say~ But of course, Weiss didn’t call him and none of her friends know his number so who told him to come?... Would you believe it, Whitley is responsible and we could not be more proud of him! Weiss certainly is, and she gives him what might be his first genuinely loving hug in years. Klein heads upstairs to begin treatment, while the rest of the group share a hopeful moment. But this silence too comes to a crashing halt as there is further ruckus outside. This time Ruby answers the door, to see a smoking crater in the front driveway. RWB rush outside and kneel at the edge of the crater as the smoke clears. Penny has crash landed, and lies there in a pool of what we can only presume to be her green synthetic blood. All she has the strength left to do is apologize before she passes out and the screen darkens with her. There lies the end for the next 6 weeks, and we were left to panic and speculate all the while. Too bad I’m a lazy bugger who only got this review out now and there’s no tension left before the thrilling continuation comes tomorrow morning. So lets all get one last panicked sleep in before the living nightmares come for our girls! Penny is totally gonna be under Watt’s control, the Hound is coming, it’s all gonna be a huge damn mess... Can’t wait, can you?~

[thecleverdame]

Gods of Twilight - 21

Alpha!Werewolf!Sam x Human!Reader

Master List (posting schedule is there as well)

Summary: You marry Sam, The King of Lebanon, as part of an alliance between two lands. You soon discover that nothing is as it appears and that your husband is hiding a secret that may end your relationship before it can begin.

Warnings: smut, dub-con, canon-level violence, domestic discipline, spanking.  This chapter does contain some non-con elements.

Beta:  @ilikaicalie​

*This story is complete. All 27 chapters are available on Patreon. To get access to this and many other stories, subscribe for a pledge of 2.50 per month. CLICK HERE

-

He’s clearly lost his mind, they all have.

You stare at this man who insists he’s your husband, two women, one on either side of him. He must be insane but no one is reacting to these wild tales. You examine him cautiously, trying to determine if this is indeed reality.

They’ve explained this again and again over the last few weeks, carefully laid out the details of who and what you are.

“To be completely honest,” you begin, looking at Sam. “I’m not sure what part is more difficult to accept. That I am a queen or that I’m a shape-shifting wolf. You will have to forgive my disbelief.”

“I understand.” Sam nods agreeably. He’s always quick to assure you, he wants you to feel comfortable.  

He cares about you a great deal, that much is clear. The way he looks at you alone is enough to know there’s a long history, many twists and turns in your relationship that you wish you could remember. There are moments like this that you can practically feel his love for you, it’s radiating off him. He’d move heaven and earth to heal your fractured mind.

This man is a king, he should spend his time attending to the many needs of his people, but instead, he remains by your bedside for hours each morning and night.

There a rush, a heat that spreads quickly from your head to your toes making your body tingle and you fall back onto the pillow as it overtakes you. This happens several times an hour, increasing in both frequency and intensity. Ellen has explained that it’s a natural part of the transition and that it’s only going to become more intense as time goes by.

“Are you alright?” Sam’s immediate concern only serves to stoke the guilt you feel every time your thoughts wander to his brother. Dean. You wish Dean would come back to visit you. You want to smell him, look at him….get up close and….no. You don’t let yourself think about that.

This man gripping your hand for dear life is your husband and an impressive specimen of a man at that. What sort of woman are you that you’re unsatisfied with a life most people could scarcely dream of.

“I’m fine. It comes and goes.” You force a weak smile as sweat beads at your hairline. Ellen dips a cloth into the water basin, rings it out and begins to carefully pat along your forehead, then your down your neck and chest.  “When can I meet my daughter?”

Your husband’s jaw tightens, his eyes ticking to the side. Martha, the midwife looks displeased, adjusting her stance. You know you shouldn’t continue to push the issue, but you simply can’t contain yourself. It’s a desire that increases with each passing day.

“We’ve talked and we’ve decided you should wait,” Sam explains softly.

“Why?” You look at each of them, unable to hide the sting of betrayal. They have these little meetings where they decide what’s best for you without asking for any of your input. “I want to see my child.”

“And you will,” Sam reaches out, taking your hand again. There’s a low tingle the moment his skin touches yours. A whiz that feels almost like a spark from a dying fire burning your skin. “We think you should wait until you display more control-”

“I have control now!” you hiss, feeling the anger bubbling to the surface. This is exactly what he’s referring to. It’s getting worse. The rage comes on quickly, a deluge of emotion you can’t stop from overtaking you.

“No,” Martha shakes her head, “you don’t have control. But you will, you just need time.”

“Please,” you change your approach, begging Sam. He wants to give you everything and anything you want and you’re not ashamed to use it against him. His face softens, brows coming together.

“We don’t know what kind of reaction the child will elicit,” Ellen speaks up, her tone makes it clear. This is not up for debate. “She could soothe you, or she could trigger a more violent response.”

“I would never hurt my baby.” You want to strangle her.

“I know, but you are not always yourself. Not right now.” Sam tries to explain. He’s gutted as you yank your arm away from him.  

“I still have milk,” you grab at your own breasts. “That must mean something! She needs me! We need each other. She’s four months old and doesn’t even have a name. Let me be a mother to her.”

“I’m sorry.” Martha nods with a finality that sets you off.

“I want to see my child! Damn you!” The rage erupts as you lunge forward, arms outstretched to grab at her. You want to tear her limb from limb. Eviscerate her on the floor next to your bed. Sam catches you, wrapping his arms tight around your shoulders, effectively pinning you in place as Martha retreats out of the room. “Let me go!” You scream at the top of your lungs, struggling against him. “I hate you for this. I hate you! Let me go!”

You snarl and growl and wrestle against your husband, trying to kick and bite and scratch your way from his hold but he’s stronger than you are, at least right now. Ellen disappears once she’s sure Sam has you under control. Then it’s just the two of you as you fight in vain.

When he’s not here you’re tied to the bed. These outbursts are becoming a more regular occurrence and he’s not around to restrain you most of the time. Sam visits as often as he can, allowing you time to be free from your bonds.  

By the time your rage passes you’re laying under the weight of him, breathing heavy as tears sting the corners of your eyes. You shake with anger, sweating and vibrating as your body purges the surge of fury and you finally give up and fall limp against the bedding.

“I hope I didn’t hurt you,” you whimper with eyes closed tight in a weak attempt to keep the humiliation from swallowing you whole. You’re a queen but you behave like a spoiled child. There’s less and less self-control as the days go by. Sam was right, you are slowly becoming a monster.

“No,” he confirms, lifting his weight off you, but careful to hold you in place, belly down on the mattress. “Are you in control?”

“I’m sorry,” you cry, burying your head. “I can't think when I’m like that. Ellen was right. There is no controlling it.”

“I know,” he whispers, nuzzling his mouth at the shell of your ear. “It’s alright. Don’t cry, my love. This is torture, but it will pass.”

His nose brushes up and down the edge of your ear, hot breath lingering longer than it should. He wants you, you can feel the lust coming off him. The more outraged you become the more the scent of desire wafts out of his very bones.

“I hope you’re right.” You roll onto your back and Sam helps you, hovering above you with a hand on your belly. His pupils are blown wide, betraying his hunger for you. “I’m so sorry I don’t remember you. You’ve been more patient than any man should be.”

“It’s nothing. I would do anything for you,” he picks at the wet hair plastered along the side of your face. “But this will get worse before it gets better. I want you to be ready, prepared for the days ahead.”

He could fuck you if he wanted, take you by force. He’s your husband and king, not to mention a wolf. He could take anything he wants from you here and now. And yet he doesn’t. You’re always surprised by that. While you don’t have specific memories of other powerful men, you do know that men of his stature rarely suppress their own appetites. He is a good man.

“Will you be with me?” you ask.

“As much as I’m able.” He nods as the hand on your stomach fists into the material of your dress. “The rage will consume you, it’s a bloodlust that will take over and for a time you’ll become feral. There’s no way around it. But you’re strong, I know you well. You’ll come out on the other side.”

“You have more faith in me than I have in myself.”

“I’ll have faith for both of us then.” He smiles softly, looking thoughtfully over your face, it seems as if he wants to say something but he remains silent.

“You say I'll become feral.” Your cheeks blush hot fire. “How is it possible you’ll want to see me like that? Like a wild animal.”

“You forget I am a wild animal as well.” He searches your face, his eyes glancing at your heaving bosom for a split second but you catch him. The truth is that being close to him like this makes your heart speed up too. It leaves a neediness between your legs that aches long after he’s gone.

“I feel a strange sensitivity when you touch me,” you confess, watching his eyes go dark.

“You are an Omega and you’re meant to be mine.” His voice is low, eye roaming over your face. “My touch will elicit certain...sensations.”

“Because you’re an Alpha,” you finish and he nods in confirmation.

For a moment you lose yourself in the fantasy of what Dean’s touch would feel like. The weight of him between your legs, the scent of his skin and the feeling of his teeth sinking into your neck.

“Where did you go just now?” Sam asks. He’s looking at you like he knows, knows all about your adulterous fantasies. “What were you thinking of?”

“You.” You lie, breathing in his scent and allowing yourself to focus solely on your husband. The more you breathe in his scent, the easier that becomes. You wonder if you’ve always been this much of a wanton woman before, or if it’s the bite that brought it out of you. “May I make a confession?” you whisper.

“Of course,” he murmurs, settling in as his hip presses against your thigh.

“Would you think me a whore if I told you I dream about you touching me?” It’s partially true, you do think of him, but you leave out the part about his brother. “I imagine what it would feel like.”

“Of course not,” he licks his lips, eyes fixed and focused on yours with a burning intensity. “You are my wife. I could never think of you that way.”

“Yes, but to me you’re a stranger and yet I find myself wondering about the feel of your hands on my skin.” He ruts his hips forward, unable to control himself. “What sort of proper woman would entertain such thoughts?”

“It’s perfectly natural.” His eyes drop to watch your mouth. “You’ll go through a heat soon and my rut will come not long after.”

“Ellen explained both to me.” You bite your lip, thinking back to the conversation. “You’ll knot me?”

He swallows hand, grunting in response. “Yes.”

“And you’ll claim me?”

“Yes,” he answers. His large hand spreads out wide over your stomach, sliding upward until his fingers are fanned out under your breasts, pressing lightly over your ribcage.

“And we did all this before?” You blink as a drop of sweat rolls down the side of his face. “When I was human?”

“Yes,” he nods slowly. “You were so beautiful that first time. You’re always magnificent, but it was a moment I’ll never forget.”

“Would you like to touch me now?” You’re nothing more than instincts at this point.

“Do you want me to?” He’s shaking with restraint, his hand trembling against your ribs.

“Very much,” you stare into his eyes and spread your thighs as wide as possible, the overwhelming lust overtaking any sense of propriety. “If you want me, you can have me.”

Sam stares at you as his hand disappears under the hem of your nightdress. He doesn’t respond, instead strokes the rough pads of his fingers up your inner thigh, wandering closer and closer to your sex.

The tips of his fingers ghost over your cunt, hardly a touch but it’s enough to bring your hips off the bed in search of more. He was right. Your body is responding to his, excitement sputtering to life inside you in the form of sexual desperation.

“Please,” you whisper, feeling sweat sliding down your temple.

“Shhh,” he hushes, his mouth nipping at your jaw as his thumb finds your clit. He rubs up and down over your bud, at the same time sinking two fingers into your pussy, sinking into wet and slick up to his knuckles. The fingers inside you feel good, but it’s the attention to your swollen nub that controls every inch of your body. He works you with an expert touch, he must know your body well because each pass of his finger manages to combine perfect timing and pressure as your orgasm builds.

The world fades away. There’s no anger or sadness, only the two of you in this moment.

“Sam,” you pant, eyes locked on each other.

“Alpha,” he corrects you. “Call me Alpha, Omega.”

“Alpha,” you breathe, the title ending in a moan as his fingers twist deeper, thumb moving faster, sliding easily again and again.

A few more strokes and you cum around his knuckles, shoving your cunt toward his hand to try and take him deeper. Pleasure spills out in every direction, back arching, toes curling as the wash of satisfaction consumes you.

And yet you want more, it doesn’t feel like enough. Blinking up at him you reach for his trousers, but he pulls your hand away. Wet fingers curling around your wrist to keep you from getting to his massive erection straining through his pants

“You don’t want me?” you hiss.

“I do,” he nods. “But it’s not time. You need to complete the change first.”

“Why?” you protest, struggling against him once again.

“Because we’re going to do this the right way.” He kisses your forehead, a simple distraction as you feel him wrap the restraint around your wrist.

“Please, don’t tie me up,” you plead, yanking at the rope. “I’ll be good, I promise!”

“Don’t struggle.” He’s always crestfallen when he has to leave. He hates this part as much as you do. “You’ll hurt yourself. Just try to be patient. I’ll come back in the morning.”

“You always leave me.” You go limp, looking away from him, knowing full well it breaks his heart to do this. He’d stay with you day and night if other responsibilities didn’t call him from your bedside.

“I am sorry.” He brushes a finger at your hairline and then he’s gone.

-

“Hello?”

A timid voice wakes you from your dreams. You blink awake, the early morning sunlight streaming through the window.

“Y/N?” The voice calls again.

There’s someone at the chamber door.

“Yes,” you call out. “I'm here.”

You can hear her heartbeat before you see her. The thump, thump, thump echoing in your ears.

A woman slips inside, looking around. Her eyes bulge at the sight of you, apparently horrified at your appearance.

“My God,” she clutches her hands over her chest. “They have you tied up.”

While you have no memory of her, she does feel familiar and apparently doesn’t understand why you’ve been tied up. You’re not stupid, you’re aware that they have you tucked away like a dirty secret in the far tower of the castle.

Your senses are stronger this morning. You can practically feel the warmth coming off her skin and smell the milk and eggs on her breath from her breakfast.

And her heart, that wonderful, arousing sound beating faster and faster.

This could be your chance.

“Will you help me?” You look from her to the rope secured to the heavy bed frame. “I’m a prisoner.”

“I knew something was amiss, my lady. Forgive me for not finding you sooner.” She rushes to the bed, working at the ropes. “Once I discovered where you were kept, I had to sneak past the guards.”

“You’re here now,” you mutter, staring at her neck. You swear you can see the blood rushing under the surface of her skin. And that thump, thump, thump is loud enough that you’re surprised she can’t hear it too. “Please hurry!”

“I’m trying!” She finally manages to untie one arm and moves on to the next. “I was so worried about you, my lady.”

“You know me well?”

She stops what she’s doing to stare at you.

“I’m sorry,” you try to look apologetic while fixating at the pulse point at her neck. “I seem to have some holes in my memory.”

She looks as if she’s about to cry and takes your hand between hers. “I’m Golda. I came with you to Lebanon when you married the king. We’ve known each other our whole lives.”

“God bless you,” you grip her wrist, pulling her even closer. “My husband is keeping me here. He refuses to let me see my child.”

“I’d heard the rumors, but I never imagined this.” Golda throws herself at you, hugging you tight. The flowery smell of her skin wafts upward, filling your senses and you yank your other arm free from the rope, holding her close in return. “I thought perhaps he had killed you.”

“I’m alive,” you murmur into her hair, rubbing your nose over her neck. You arms squeeze around her, tighter and tighter.

“Please stop,” she squeaks and you realize how hard you're embracing her. She pulls back, gulping at the sight of your face. “What’s wrong with your eyes?”

“Nothing,” you feel the sudden urge to sink your teeth into her shoulder.

“Please let me go,” she tries to pull away but you have a grip on your arm. “You’re hurting me.

-

“She calmed down after I left?” Ellen walks beside Sam as they make their way toward your room.

“For the most part,” he looks forward, afraid that if she sees his face she’ll know about his little tryst with his hand up your skirt. He couldn’t help himself. He desired you before the change but now that you’re an Omega his self-restraint is failing. “She begs me not to tie her up. I can hardly stand it.”

“It’s for her own good,” Ellen assures him. “You remember what Dean was like when he got free? A holy terror. We can’t have her running the countryside, killing farmers and gutting townspeople.”

“I know.” Sam bristles at the thought of you nothing more than a savage animal. “When she pleads to see the child I-”

He stops, Ellen slows beside him, both of them looking at the open door to your bedchambers.

“Did the midwife check on her this morning?” he asks, afraid of the answer.

“No, I spoke with Martha this morning. She’s planning to come this afternoon.”

They both hesitate, Sam takes a breath before pulling the door open.

“Oh my God!” he yelps.

You’re in the middle of the bed on your hands and knees, bent over a dead Golda who’s chest has been cracked open. You look up, eyes burning orange. Your mouth and body are covered in her blood and what’s left of her raw heart is in your hands as you take another bite, staring at Sam in pure mania. You flash a smile, looking proudly from the body to him, and pulling the heart into your chest as if he might try to take it from you.

“What have you done…” he whispers, eyes fluttering closed.

“Alpha,” you grin, kneeing you way around Golda’s body and toward him. You tip your head from side to side, appraising him before extending your arm and offering him Golda’s half-eaten heart.

[beauty-grace-outer-space]

I grew up at the school founded by my church. I spent 13 years there, not including the decade after of returning to help with theater, choir, events, etc. simply because I love some of the staff and students so much. 

In the last four years, I have seen the staff and church I loved so dearly become hateful liars. The pastor emeritus and founder of the church shares outright lies to his facebook page before sharing his “pastor picks” instructing his congregation how to vote. After he recently shared something which said (no, I’m not kidding) that he would vote for Trump no matter what because “what is character when there’s policy?” and “If only for abortion.” At some point I made a carefully worded comment advising him to use empathy when speaking about such things, because there is much to be found lacking Trump’s character. He has known me since I was four years old. He blocked me. 

The church page shares blubbering support for police officers, and designates BLM as “thugs”. A month or so ago, I commented on the church facebook page that: 

“I’ve seen all of the support recently for law enforcement. As an alum, it would be great to see some support for black lives, as well!” 

It was repeatedly deleted. My attempts to find out why were brushed off. I finally got put in touch with the executive pastor who told me we had to meet in person or he wouldn’t discuss it at all, despite my repeated insistence that I would not violate our state “stay home” order to do so. 

Finally, he responded and said that my comment was deleted because it “wasn’t relevant to the post” (it wasn’t on a post, so... that’s a lie) and it felt “divisive” 

And I am not ashamed to admit that I am heartbroken. I spent two days absolutely crying myself sick. 

I drafted dozens of letters, spent weeks editing... and I’m just so tired. So I finally deleted most of what I had written and sent him the following: 

Pastor ******, 

Thank you for replying to my email. 

I apologize for the delay in returning a response.  There are many things I could say, and I spent a long while trying to determine the best way to present them in a manner that makes sense and provokes thought rather than accusing or shaming. However, given my recent interactions with various members of staff at (church), I'm not sure that there would ultimately be much point to it.

I understand that communicating via written word is sometimes less nuanced and more complex than face-to-face interactions, but I believe that a lot can still be said with a few words. Whether or not it was your intention, much was said with your response.

To begin with, my comment that you deleted was not on another post; it was a stand alone message directly to the church facebook page. As such, there was no way for it to be "irrelevant to the post" as you've said here.

As for the remark that it felt divisive, well... if simply using the words “black lives” equates to division, then (church) has made their stance quite clear. 

I had been using this time to draft a letter to the staff of (church) in the hopes of making my concerns apparent in a way that is productive, thoughtful, and sincere, but after several recent interactions with various members of staff (teachers, pastors, and other team members) I find myself wondering if there is any positive outcome to be achieved by doing so. I know you do not know me personally, but (church), via both school and church, was my home for well over thirteen years. I grew up with many of the current staff and members of the congregation. It is never my intent to harm or upset anyone there, but with each new interaction-- either with a staff member individually, or by seeing what has been shared on social media by various team members and the church itself-- I find my heart breaking and my faith fading. 

These interactions have more than once brought me to tears, as the realization that this church and these people whom I have loved so dearly are not, in fact, who I once thought they were is devastating. 

Mourning unjust loss of life should not be considered divisive, and I am not sure how it came to be considered so. 

I only hope that I can expect better of (church) and their staff, emeritus and otherwise, in the future.

Thank you for your time. 

"In the End, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends." - Rev. Martin Luther King Jr. 

[imaginepirates]

Found and Kept

A sequal to Scarred and Scared that some of you wanted. Prepare for some fluff, because I can't help myself.

~3300 words

@bonjour-frens @tesserphantom @ilikebritsandbands @viper-official

(I've done it lads. This is original post # 420)

~~~~~~~

           "She's a pirate, sir. We caught her trying to get back to her ship and crew. She could be dangerous."

           "I'm well aware of how dangerous pirates can be, lieutenant. Send her in."

           Even behind closed doors, the voice was painfully familiar. You shifted on your feet, impatient. Either Beckett was about to sentence you to death, or by some miracle, he wasn't. You needed to get it over with. You told yourself it had nothing to do with the fact that if he decided to kill you, it would break your heart. 

           You'd taken him off the island months ago, and you'd gone your separate ways. You made sure, of course, that he had safe passage back to Port Royal with someone to help him get home. It tore at your heart to leave him in the hands of a stranger, but he assured you that he'd be alright, and he hadn't been lying. 

           In an attempt to get back to your crew, you'd gotten captured by the Navy. It scared you, but your job had always come with its dangers. If you were hung it was your own fault for being too careless. 

           The main problem was that you were a woman. There was controversy over your hanging, and you'd been left to rot in a cell for days without an answer as to whether you'd live or die. Waiting was the worst torture of all. Finally, it had been decided that Beckett would determine your sentence. After all, the man had an indiscernible moral code and an ability to give orders without being questioned. 

           The prospect had given you hope, but it was soon replaced with dread. He could still have you killed; he might not think twice about it. A man with power and a man without power were as different as night and day, and you feared you would find a complete stranger in him. 

           The doors to his study swung open, and you were admitted between two guards. Shackles chafed the skin of your wrists, and there were mottled bruises all over that hurt with every step you took. The Navy hadn't treated you nicely, but you'd brought it upon yourself with your words and actions. That didn't make the pain any easier to bear. 

           Beckett sat on a chair with a man to his right. Light dappled through large windows at the side of the room, falling over the familiar outline of his face. His hands were folded in his lap, and a cane was resting against his leg. 

           "Unchain her." Once the order was given, it was done. The officers exchanged looks, knowing well that Beckett couldn't see them. Their looks implied they thought Beckett was making a poor decision, but nobody protested. "Now," he continued. "I will ask you a question, and I will only ask it once. Your answer will determine your worth to me. Do you understand?"

           "Yes, milord," you replied. 

           There was a flicker, an instant where his expression changed, where his milky eyes got wider and his brows shot up, but it was gone as soon as it appeared. Recognition, you hoped. Please, recognize me.

           "Do you know anything about the whereabouts or intents of Jack Sparrow?"

           Your heart stopped. This was it for you. You had no idea what Jack wanted or where he was. This was the answer to your question: would Beckett kill you? "No, milord, I know nothing about him."

           "Ah. Disappointing. I rather hoped you would. Well, you're of little use, now aren't you?"

           "Shall we hang her, sir?" Asked one of the officers next to you. 

           "Oh, I never said anything about hanging. After all, there are more suitable punishments." He grinned unpleasantly, and your stomach churned. "A pirate most wants freedom. How humiliating it would be to take that away. From now on, this woman will be a personal attendant to me, and she'll do whatever I ask if she wishes to live. If she doesn't, she can take her own life if she so wants. It makes no matter to me. But remember, girl," he addressed you, "death is the only way out."

           You didn't know what to think. It felt like he was intent on punishing you, on humiliating you until you hated life enough to die. But part of you argued, and argued, and argued that he wouldn't hurt you. Not the man you knew. 

           "You're all dismissed. Leave her with me."

           "But sir…"

           "Don't question me. She won't be giving me any trouble, believe me." 

           With that, Beckett stood, and with surprising accuracy and agility, hit you hard across the ribs with his cane. 

           You screamed. It hurt, but nothing was more painful than your shock that he would hit you. The room emptied, and you were left alone on the floor to groan with Beckett standing over you. 

           "Forgive me." His voice was softer now, and when you looked up, his expression was pained. "I needed to remind them that I'm still as dangerous as I've always been. I'm sorry."

           A wave of relief hit you and you took a deep breath, which did nothing for the acute pain in your chest. "Did you have to hit me that hard?" You choked. You still couldn't even bring yourself to your knees, and tears had left red-hot trails down your cheeks. 

           "In my defense, I couldn't exactly see what I was doing."

           You laughed despite yourself, and then gasped as your ribs protested. "What exactly are you going to do with me?" 

           "You cared for me once. I hope to return the favor." He extended a hand in your direction, letting you take hold of it so he could help haul you to your feet. "I need you as my eyes. You'll have to guide me while walking, which I can do now without being held up, thanks to you. Every kindness you showed me once I wish to repay in full."

           "I thought for a moment you hadn't remembered me," you admitted. 

           He looked surprised. "How could I forget?"

           "You never saw me. I didn't know if my voice was enough."

           "The voice that I first woke up to? The voice that fed me and tended to me, the voice that kept me company and taught me to walk? Don't think I'd forget so soon." He tugged at your sleeve, and you gave him one hand while putting the other on his back. "There's a room with a bath a couple doors down. I bet you could use one. And food, and proper clothes. I'll get a maid to tend to you, if you'll let me take you."

           You led each other to the washroom. He gave you directions when you got into the hall, and you helped him walk you there. He left and a maid took his place, pitchers of steaming water in her hands. 

           The bath was sublime, and you luxuriated in it until the water turned cold. You were scrubbed clean by a servant, an experience that made you a little uncomfortable, but that you appreciated all the same. 

           A silk dressing gown awaited you when you climbed out. It was a deep blue color with waves embroidered onto it. You wondered why Beckett would own such a thing, seeing as it was made for a woman, and what occasions called for its use. The fabric pooled at your feet when you put it on, reaching the floor to cover all but the tops of your feet as you walked. With the warm breeze fluttering through the drapes, you could've been some grecian princess. You certainly felt like one with the silk sitting on your shoulders. 

           You saw that Beckett partook in all his former duties, though he worked them differently. He dictated letters instead of writing them himself, and had to use a special sort of stamp to sign documents. He was a busy man with all the power in the world back at his fingertips. 

           He often kept his eyes open, despite not being able to see. Whether it was to unnerve people or to keep himself awake, you couldn't be sure. 

           You led him when he needed to get from place to place, and were given a tour of the estate by the same servant that had bathed you. This way, you knew where to take Beckett should he want to go anywhere. 

           You didn't get to talk to him again until the evening, when he sat alone in his study. The sun was just setting, leaving the two of you in darkness. You almost asked why a candle wasn't lit at this time of night, but remembered candles didn't do much for him anymore. You lit one, silently, for yourself instead.

           "Is there anything you need, milord?" You asked. You were still supposed to work for him, after all.

           "Don't."

           "Don't what?"

           "Don't call me that. 'Milord'." He scoffed. "For God's sake, woman, you've spoon fed me when I was too weak to do so myself. You hardly need to be so formal."

           You were surprised. "Oh. Alright, then, what would you have me call you?"

           "Beckett is fine, thank you." He shifted a little in his chair, settling back. "Have you found everything to your satisfaction? I hope you're taking it easy, I did hit you pretty hard with my cane, which I feel awful for."

           "Don't worry about it."

           "I'll worry about whatever I wish."

           "Well, then, I'm flattered it's me."

           "It's the least I could do."

           You changed the topic before he said anything more. "I will say that this robe doesn't cover much."

           "A shame I can't see, then." He grinned, lip twisted by the burns. 

           You were ashamed to note that a blush rose to your face, heating up your entire head. "What thoughts are you trying to put into people's heads, exactly?"

           He continued to smile. "Oh, let people think what they like. It will keep them from knowing the truth."

           You only blushed harder, and failed when you tried to stammer out a response. 

           "Worry not," he said. "I won't be using you for that purpose."

           It was then that tea came in, served on lovely porcelain trays with colorful designs. It had been allowed to cool before being served, evident by how it was put directly in Beckett's hands. You took a minute to enjoy a few sips before continuing. 

           "How are you?" You asked. Beckett certainly looked better since you'd seen him last, not to mention, he seemed more confident. 

           "Fine. Why do you ask?" He gave you a challenging look.

           "I…" you couldn't mention his blindness without offending him, and you weren't about to ask if he was feeling less insecure. "You look better. You've put on a bit of weight since I took care of you; you hardly weighed anything then. I'm glad to see you recovering."

           He exhaled sharply through his nose. "Half of it is that they won't let me go walking. They treat me like I'm made of glass, so I'm made to sit here day after day, and a maid tentatively helps me get from room to room. It's an awful lifestyle."

           "I believe you." You would hate to be cooped up inside all day.

           "I was hoping," he said rather softly, "that you would be willing to walk with me? I'm awfully tired of not being able to go out in the garden. I used to enjoy walks, and though I often took them alone, I wouldn't object to your company, even if I had a choice."

           "Of course." It would be a good pastime for both of you. 

           "Thank you." He gave you a rather nervous smile, and you couldn't help feeling affection for the man. 

           You walked him to his room, one of his hands on your arm, the other on his cane. There you left him to his valets and went off to your own room which you'd been shown earlier. You didn't know what to make of the soft blankets and plush pillows, the fluttering curtains and large wardrobe. It was too much luxury for someone like you, and yet not enough for some. You let your robe slide to the floor and your body sink into the sheets. Enveloped in the first soft, warm bed of your life, you drifted off to sleep, your conversation with Beckett floating around in the back of your mind. 

           The morning came with new marvels. New clothes- it was another silk robe, and you could imagine Beckett smiling as he decided to give it to you- and a tray of warm food heaped onto plates. Beckett obviously had no intention of starving you, and you dug in. 

           You were permitted to wander the manor while he worked. You found many places of peace and refuge, and were sad to think that Beckett had little access to them now. A library with massive windows looking out onto the garden stood at one end of the building. A piano sat in one corner, bathed in morning light. A piece of music sat on the music rack as if someone had just been playing them. Comfortable chairs adorned the room, and two french doors led outside. You stayed for a while, letting the sun warm you through the windows and running your hands over the spines of books before you left. 

           You were back in Beckett's office by midday. He took a break from his work in the afternoons, you were told, and he'd called for you. 

           "I hope you enjoy the new robe I've found for you," he said when you entered. 

           There was nobody else there, so you felt a little less embarrassed about the comment than you might have otherwise. "I'll admit that it's comfortable. Showy, but comfortable." This robe was of a light pink with lace at the sleeves. Its plunging neckline and thin fabric kept little to the imagination. 

           "Oh, I'm sure you've already scandalized most of my servants. Ah, well." He beckoned you over to help him out of his chair. "How about that walk you promised me? I'm sure my complexion could use the sun."

           You rolled your eyes at that, but guided him down the halls anyway. You looked forward to spending time with him, you knew. You felt like you shouldn't, but then thought of the affection he showed you, and you enjoyed his company all the more. 

           "Have you read all the books in your library?" You asked. You were headed there, it having the easiest access to the gardens. 

           "I admit that I haven't, though I always intended to. I've read most of them by now. It's a shame I won't be able to read them again." He went quiet, and in the silence you could hear his sadness. 

           "You played piano, too."

           "That I can still do. Learning by ear is hard, yes, and I don't have many people to listen to, but it can be done." 

           "I'm glad for that, at least." You rounded a corner and led him into the room. You had a sudden notion then, and voiced it. "I could read to you, you know. I can read."

          He looked at you in interest. "Have you read any of the classics?"

           You were ashamed to admit that you hadn't. There was no way for you to have had access to them, of course, but it reminded you of how much you didn't belong to this new life where people were well educated and well-bred. 

           "I think you'd enjoy them." He furrowed his brow. "Antigone, to start with, I think. You'd enjoy it most. Though it does have a backstory- Oedipus- that you could read, but I have a feeling it would disgust you, and I can't have that be your first reaction to Greek writing."

           "You could summarize the backstory for me."

           He averted his gaze. "And you'd let me have an excuse to spend more time with you?"

           "Only if you let me have the same."

           His eyes went wide at your words. He quickly recovered himself, however, and schooled his face into its regular expression. "Antigone is on the second shelf of the third case. If you wanted to grab it."

           You got it, leaving Beckett to hold onto one of the solid bookcases. Then you walked him out into the sun, appreciating the warmth. It was an interesting domestic life you were leading now, you reflected. Looking over at Beckett, you found that you didn't mind. 

           You eventually sat down on a conveniently placed bench. Flowers surrounded you, all tastefully placed. Little fountains gurgled here and there, birds chirped, and a breeze rustled the leaves in the nearby trees. 

           "Will you explain the story to me?" You asked. "The events before Antigone?"

           He did, and gladly. Then you read to him some, which he seemed to enjoy. By the time you finished the first two acts, he was smiling into the sun, eyes closed. You were afraid he was asleep, but he turned to you and thanked you. 

           In all this time, though you were both sitting on the bench and he had no need to keep a hand on you, his hand rested over yours. 

           "I was afraid for you, you know. When I left you," you admitted. "I had a hard time letting you go."

           He shifted in his seat and gave you hardly more than a whisper in response. "It was hard to go."

           "We couldn't stay there."

           "No." He sighed. 

           "We're together again, though. And not stuck on a stormy little island in the middle of nowhere."

           "It's true that we've found warmer weather." He didn't look pleased as he said it. There was a new tension in his shoulders and he stared forward instead of looking at you. 

           "What's bothering you?" 

           He opened his mouth and closed it again like he'd meant to speak. Finally, he said, "If ever…if ever you wish to leave, I can have it arranged that your going away gets looked over."

           "Why would I leave?"

           "Surely you're more at home with your crew," he said sourly.

           "I haven't seen them in months. Besides, crews are always changing. There's no guarantee I'll find all the same men that I left."

           "You'll stay, then?" The hope in his voice and expression weren't well hidden.  

            "Of course. I am fond of you, I hope you know."

           "Oh." It was all he said, and he returned to staring out over the gardens. The sun was slowly slipping down to hang heavy over the horizon. "I'm fond of you, too."

           You turned to him then and placed a hand on the side of his face, gently making him look at you. "You aren't used to affection, are you?"

           "No," he breathed. He must've known how close you were to him, and when you placed a light kiss on his cheek, he gasped. 

           "You don't mind, do you?" You were afraid you were getting ahead of yourself.  

           "I just wish I could return the favor," he answered. 

           "Maybe it'll be easier this way." You leaned in again, this time slowly pressing your lips to his. He stiffened in response, but soon melted into your touch. Each kiss was slow and hesitant, like you were waiting for the other to pull away. One of his hands found your hair, and the other your waist. Both shook just enough to be noticeable to you, and you pulled him closer to make sure he understood that he had no reason to be nervous or afraid. 

           "I think," he mumbled against your lips, "that I've found another use for you. If you don't mind."

           You smiled and assured him you didn't. "A strange situation for both of us, but good."

           "Better than good, I think." And for the first time since you'd met him, he smiled, truly smiled.

           He's right. Better than good. Much better than good.

[valkyrieelysia18]

RWBY Rewrite: Penny Polendina

Salutations Tumblr users! Today, we tackle beloved fan favorite robot girl Penny Polendina.

Now as I stated before, I dropped RWBY after Volume 6 and didn’t really watch Volume 7. I have however heard about certain developments and one plot point made me grateful I got out earlier or I would have rage quit this Volume anyway.

They brought back Penny, with all her memories completely intact.

This destroys one of the best pieces of writing in the show. Penny’s death was meant to symbolize the death of innocence in the show and it led in to the Fall of Beacon as well as Pyrrha’s death. Up until now, the show had been treating it as if a real girl had died. Vexed Viewer on YouTube has done a video on the topic that explains this better than I could. Even if they were going to bring Penny back in some way, she shouldn’t have been exactly the same as if nothing happened. Such as her memory of Vale (and everyone she met) being completely gone or her personality being significantly changed she isn’t even the same person anymore.

So, in this post I am going to be going over her history, role in the plot, and ‘successor’ for the Atlas Arc. 

Creation and History

Okay, slight can of worms, but if Doctor Polendina is black, why is his daughter one of the most obviously white characters of the cast?

Alright, there actually is a legitimate reason for that in this rewrite. Penny’s physical features are actually based on Pietro’s late wife Clara Polendina (reference to the Nutcracker ballet) who worked with her husband. The two were very much happy and in love, but Clara died in a Grimm attack before they could have children. Thus, Penny is basically the daughter Pietro never got to have with her. Clara won’t come up that much in the Rewrite, but she was close to both of her husband’s prized students Arthur Watts and Willow Schnee. Arthur would note the resemblance and bring it up during his final confrontation with the doctor (This is what you ruined my life for as well as countless others?! Clara would be ashamed.) Willow would also bring it up and notice the similarities in both Penny and her successor.

However, the Atlas military and Ironwood’s desires to build something like Penny is less heartwarming. There was the original desire of making stronger robots for mass production to protect humans that evolved into infiltration and espionage purposes. But James Ironwood would see Polendina’s plans and see an immense opportunity. A young woman who would never age or die. An individual that they would never have to worry about running away or disobeying orders. Such a person becoming a Maiden would mean that they would never have to worry about the transfer process ever again. That would explain why Penny said that it would be her job to save the world one day, but they don’t think she’s ready for it yet. She is Ironwood’s hope for the future of the Maidens. And just in case she isn’t perfected in time for the next transfer, Winter is being trained and kept in reserve. Ironwood would provide all of the materials Pietro could need, including a crystalized substance that no one knows much about other than it being a classified by the military. It’s source  will be noted in a spoiler’s section in this post, but it’s the very thing finally got things to work.

But while Pietro is aware something is up and suspicious of Ironwood’s intentions, he loves his little robot daughter regardless. There will be some flashbacks involving her first days awake (showing her curiosity and determination) as well as her bidding her father good bye when she leaves for the Vytal Festival. 

Vale

The only thing I’d really change about Penny in the Vale Arc is giving her more time to interact with the cast, especially Ruby. What we got was okay, but I think it would be much more impactful if Ruby got to spend more time with Penny before her death. I’d definitely like it if Penny would bring up her father during their conversations, saying she was sure that two of them would get along given how much Ruby likes weapons.

It might be also nice for Pyrrha to feel a little off by her sensing all the metal when they first meet, but not realize why or how important that is. Just bit of foreshadowing.

Pelia

So, as you might have guessed by now, Penny will stay dead in this Rewrite. With the kind of story and tone I’m working with, it’s important that there is legitimate consequences to events and actions of the characters. As such, characters who died will stay dead. They may be referenced, appear in flashbacks, haunt our characters’ dreams, perhaps having a spirit linger with unfinished business to help the main characters on their path, but there is no chance of resurrection.

Not that Pietro wasn’t thinking along the same lines as others had considering Penny is a robot. They did manage to retrieve her body and core, but when he managed to build a new body, reboot, and restart, it wasn’t Penny greeting him. Rather, it was a completely personality. And they did not recognize anything or anyone. Pietro was devastated.

Thus I introduce Pelia Polendina, or Pelly. This is reference to the Coppelia ballet that actually includes a toy inventor trying bring a doll to life that he calls a daughter, much like Pinocchio. Only instead of magic bringing a puppet to life, the inventor tries to bring Coppelia to life by stealing a human soul and putting it in the doll. Quite the dark contrast and is actually going to be a bit of foreshadowing. I will say her appearance is actually pretty similar to Penny’s redesign with longer hair, though I would picture her more similar to dishwasher 1910′s design in https://www.deviantart.com/dishwasher1910/art/penny3-0-SD-758463321 . Check them out on DeviantArt, their work is amazing.

Pelia is considerably different than Penny. Whereas Penny was bright, enthusiastic, and rather trusting; Pelly is subdued, talks very mechanically, and is significantly less naïve. While Penny longed to be a part of something greater and be with humans despite her lack of social skills, Pelly avoids most people and is afraid of what Atlas(and by extension Ironwood) wants with a robot like her. This is partly due to her finding about Penny and how the world reacted with the Fall of Beacon.

In regards to Penny, she feels rather guilty about being alive in her place though she doesn’t quite realize that’s what she is feeling. This would lead to her trying to find out everything she could on Penny to understand her emotions, learning about Ruby and the others in the process. Pietro is devastated by the loss and incredibly frustrated with her, not really considering her alive in the same way Penny was which given her personality isn’t that unreasonable to think. Pelia does care about her creator and tries to assist him in what ways she can, but his attitude towards her is not positive and as such she mostly stays out of his way.

Atlas

Pelia’s first proper appearance would be in the Atlas Arc when the group visits Doctor Polendina for weapons repairs after their meeting with Ironwood doesn’t go well and the good doctor isn’t the on the best terms with the General at present. The man is not pleased or in the mood to humor them, though he does defrost a little when Ruby shows her geeky know how on weapons. (He may have also said some rather terrible things about Pyrrha which made the group somewhat grateful JNR wasn’t there.) As the group leaves the building and goes on their way, Ruby looks up to the upstairs window as she feels she’s being watched. She doesn’t see anything, but as she turns and walks away Pelia comes into view from the window. Having recognized who the people who just visited were, Pelly sneaks out and follows the group in the secret for a while.

She finally gets revealed while the group is watching Weiss dance ballet at a Mantle Community Theater. The Atlas Arc is primarily Weiss centric and part of her Arc in proving herself as worthy of the Schnee name will have her prove herself to people of Mantle. One such instance will have her helping out at the community theatre in learning and teaching dance. It’s in which she is showing off her skills Pelia accidentally reveals herself to the group having been incredibly entranced in ballet (little show to her inspiration). Ruby at first mistakes her for Penny so she gets very emotional, only to temper down when she realizes Pelia’s not her. The situation is cleared up and the group gets more insight into the situation of Atlas as well as the strain between the General and Pietro.

Pelia has three distinct dynamics of interactions with the group: Ruby on Penny, Weiss and Winter on siblings, and Oscar on succession. With Ruby, Pelia gets to know more about Penny as a person and Ruby gets a chance to fully process her loss. Pelia’s not Penny, but she comes to appreciate her all the same. Ruby also comes up with Yang in regards to sibling interactions, but Pelia’s focus in this case is more on the Schnee siblings. She’s basically wondering what sisters act like and whether Penny would have seen her as a sister. This lets her get some ballet lessons from Weiss as well as close to Winter. Then there’s her relationship with Oscar with the two of them having to deal with their predecessors and the problems they’ve let them to deal with. The both of them come to realize through talking with each other is that they shouldn’t compare themselves to those who came before. They have their own views and ways of doing things different from their predecessors and that’s not necessarily a bad thing. The only thing they can do is do things the best THEY can.

The big turning point in the Atlas Arc for Pelia is when Pietro finds out abut the Winter Maiden and what Ironwood’s original plans were.  While I am majorly rewriting the Atlas Arc, I do actually like the idea of an old Winter Maiden who is on her last legs. Pietro doesn’t get all the details of course, but it gives him the idea that the magic could bring Penny back to life. Aside from the whole ‘Dead means dead’ world I’m working with, it’s also a way to show that magic that cannot bring back the dead. I know that’s very much true in the show though not directly stated, but here I want to lay the ground rules down on what magic is and is not capable of.

After being called back by Pietro and assisting him in breaking into the facility where the transfer is soon to take place, the two enter the room that was originally prepped for Winter (who is distracted with everyone else on things going wrong due to Pietro’s interference) with the old woman in the pod. Pietro has explained things and orders Pelia to get in the other pod. Pelia doesn’t move, having been conflicted during this entre plan which shows all over her face. The doctor orders again, much firmer this time.  A few moments pass as she thinks it over; fear, doubt, determination all playout in her expressions. Finally, she speaks. “No.”

While Pelia may have been built to be a weapon, she still has free will. Unlike Penny who accepted her role without many doubts, Pelia rejects that her only purpose is to be someone’s tool of war. She wants to help others, but she doesn’t want to fight. I think that if you bring choice into a story as a main theme, you also have to give the characters the choice not to fight, to walk away even if they don’t actually do it. Above all, Pelia doesn’t think that sacrificing others for herself is what Penny would have wanted after having met Ruby and gotten to know what she was like. 

She would tell this to Pietro, who would get furious and argue with her. this would continue until they were interrupted by Watts. Watts, with revenge on the brain, would focus on Doctor Polendina and tell Pelia to run along. I know this seems a little hypocritical for Watts to do this considering his advice to Cinder in Volume 5, but this a different situation. Spoilers for the future Atlas Arc Rewrite and future James Ironwood post, go to the next paragraph if you don’t want spoilers. You see, the villains don’t need the Winter Maiden to open the Vault for them because Ironwood already took the Relic of Creation out of the Vault years ago (and is NOT holding up Atlas). In fact, a bit of the power from the staff was used to create Penny  which was the the crystalized substance. Watts knows this due to his hacking Ironwood’s system and has already retrieved the Relic and sent it on the way to Salem. This will make the results in Atlas a lot more bittersweet: our heroes will win on the people’s side of things, but lose the Relic. Back to Watts, the man is all about efficiency. While the Winter Maiden’s powers would be nice, they don’t have a vessel for it at the moment and it’s not necessary for their primary goal. Once the business side of things is taken care of, then he’ll indulge in revenge.

Pelia, while conflicted, would run and get to the group to tell them everything. She would then spend the rest of the conflicting helping to escort and treat the wounded, giving her a presence to the people of Atlas. Pietro will be arrested and will be convicted for his crimes, Watts dead but having gotten the last laugh in the end with his technological abilities exposing his teacher and those who left him out to dry.

Once everything is settled, Pelly will stay behind in Atlas as the new right hand of new Headmistress Winter Schnee. Basically, she becomes the Glynda to Winter’s Ozpin (though Winter is a much more hands on no nonsense person). She bids the group goodbye, hoping to Ruby that they will meet again.

After Atlas

I don’t have much in mind for Pelia after the Atlas Arc except for two things. Firstly, that she and Pietro do eventually reconcile and develop something of a relationship when she visits him in prison on her off days. (Jacques is not so lucky in regards to his children.)

The second is when she and Winter will meet everyone at the lowest point of the story. Ruby will have learned some pretty dark truths, including some choices her mother made that’s really made her think. Pelia will actually have a similar conversation with Ruby that she had with Oscar. In how she’s no more Penny than Ruby is Summer. She’ll remark that perhaps Ruby put her mother on a bit too much of a pedestal thanks to the way her family viewed her. When in reality Summer was just a person and people make mistakes. Right now, what choices Summer made in the past aren’t what matters. What matters is what Ruby wants to do now.

Okay, I think I started before the coronavirus stuff went crazy. I am so sorry. Not sure when I’ll get beck to this.

However, I know the next subject is going to quite the doozy...

[tydelwve]

Rumors {pt. 1}

Characters: Calum x reader

Word Count: 2446

Warnings: angst w happy ending

Summary: Calum’s statement out of context during an interview leads to a long overdue talk between the two of you.

Beta(s): @cashton-queen

Author’s Note: I guess this counts as the mark of my return. Ithink I’m going to be doing things differently for a little while until I can get fully back into it. I am working on a lot of fics for you guys right now, so I’l mainly just be finishing those for you guys and posting. Part two will be posted tomorrow!

want to be tagged? || my masterlist

“Welcome to our live interviews with Calum Hood and Luke Hemmings from 5 Seconds of Summer! You guys are the interviewers here, so send in your questions to ask the boys and they’ll happily answer!”

Calum and Luke nodded and waved at the camera with smiles across their faces.

How is the next album coming along?

“I’d say it’s coming along very well. We had some,” Luke glanced at Calum, “‘minor inconveniences earlier this month.”

Calum nodded as his mind drifted to you and the argument you had two weeks prior. “Yeah, some things came up that threw me off my game, but it’s getting sorted out.”

He leaned back, crossing his arms as the next question comes in.

How was vacationing in the Bahamas with your girls after tour?

“It was really good. That was Y/N’s first time there and she really enjoyed herself. I got to show her all of the sights. We all went parasailing and windsurfing. It was a blast,” Calum softly smiled.

Luke grinned at Calum when he noticed the brief happiness in his eyes. A look that was foreign on Calum’s face since the two of you broke up.

“Sierra, Crystal, and Y/N really planned out this trip. There was never a dull moment. We even got Calum, here, to post on his accounts. That has to show how much fun we had,” Luke teased Calum, causing him to blush and look down.

“Yeah, yeah. Next question,” Calum said.

What’s the last text message that you sent?

They both pull out their phones to go to their recent messages.

Luke snorted as he pulled up a meme that he sent in the group. “I can’t explain it, but it’s funny as hell. They just don’t appreciate my humor,” Luke explained.

Calum clicked on the text threads for your conversation. He fought back the tears as he softly spoke, “Mine was to Y/N. I told her that I loved her this morning and wished her luck on her exam.”

Right above that message, he stared at the paragraph he sent a few days ago that you neither responded to or read.

What’s going on with Y/N? She’s been MIA for a while. Is she okay?

Calum clenched his jaw, sulking back into his seat. “Why don’t you fucking ask Ashton?” Calum muttered barely above a whisper.

Luke sharply elbowed him with his lips in a thin line. Calum coughed as he rolled his eyes.

“What did you say, Calum?” the interviewer asked.

Luke cut Calum off. “I think we should just go to the next question. He and Y/N are no longer together, and it’s still an open wound for both of them at the moment,” Luke urged.

The rest of the interview went by somewhat smoothly if you didn’t add Calum’s persistent sour attitude.

As Calum and Luke walked out to their cars, Luke questioned, “What the fuck was that in there, Cal?”

Calum shrugged, walking ahead and not paying much attention to Luke. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“I love how you acted as if Y/N did you wrong when we both know you fucked up everything you had with her. You are such a fucking child.”

“You’re one to talk about someone acting like a child when you had to fucking move in with Ashton,” Calum sneered, instantly regretting the words once they came out of his mouth.

They both fell silent as Luke began to back away. “I don’t know what the hell has gotten into you, but you are not the Calum I grew up with. You better find him soon... Don’t talk to me until you do.”

Luke turned around, got in his car, and drove off as Calum stood there rethinking everything he just said.

A few hours after the interview, yours and Ashton’s phones began to blow up with comments about how disgusting the two of you were and how you both should be ashamed.

“Ashton? What the hell did we do?” You questioned as you noticed him reading the comments as well.

He glanced at you, motioning you to come by him. “It has to do with Calum and Luke’s interview. Cal must have said something.”

You notice the article pull up on his phone and you both began to read it.

Breaking News: Y/N and Ashton in Affair Behind Calum’s Back?!

It was brought to our attention that Calum Hood and Y/N Y/L/N broke up. Yes, you read that correctly.

In a live stream interview of Calum Hood and Luke Hemmings, a question came up about his eight month girlfriend (or fling. They never came out as dating in the first place), causing Calum to mumble something under his breath.

What did he mumble? Good question. It was extremely hard to catch the muttered phrase that Luke obviously did not enjoy; but, after some fans rewinded it and turned the volume up, the mic caught what he said perfectly.

“Why don’t you fucking ask Ashton?”

Once publicized, the fans were in disbelief.

Ashton and Y/N were seeing each other behind Calum’s back.

We know, it’s hard to imagine either of them doing this to Calum, but there’s no arguing that Calum is in a bad mood because of the break up.

We hope to hear from Y/N or Ashton about this soon.

Make sure you’re subscribed to stay up to date with all celebrity news!

Ashton looked at you as you huffed in annoyance. “Y/N? What are you thinking?” he questioned.

“I’m going to kick his ass. He has the audacity to call me a cheater?!” your voice began to raise.

Ashton cautiously placed his hand in your shoulder. “Let me talk to him first. Maybe he’s still hurting and he let his emotions get the best of him.”

Ashton’s attempt to give Calum the benefit of the doubt had no affect on you.

“You and I both know he did that on purpose. Stop trying to fucking cover for him.” You grab your jacket and keys, wanting a drink to calm you down. “I’m going to the bar. Don’t wait up.”

Ashton looks at you concerned, “Y/N, it’s 5 PM.”

You give him a dead stare. “I’m going to the bar.”

You turned around and walked out the door.

Ashton grabbed his own keys and headed to Calum’s house to see what was going on with him.

As soon as Calum opened the door, Ashton spoke, “Y/N saw the interview and heard what you said. She also read the article. I hope you’re proud of being the reason she’s heading to the bar right now.”

Calum tilted his head with a grimace spread across his face. “You let her go alone?”

Calum started to grab his keys, but Ashton gripped his arm and said, “I’m going there later, but right now, we need to talk.”

“If you’re just here to tell me how much I screwed up today, then Luke already did that,” Calum informed him.

“There’s no need to tell you that you screwed up because you already knew that before Luke told you that. You didn't just screw up today, Calum. You screwed up two weeks ago when you let her walk out of your door feeling like you didn’t care about her.” Ashton’s voice began to raise. “She’s like a sister to me, and I trusted you to take care of her. I trusted you, Calum. She’s in pain because I let my guard down because I didn’t want to believe that my brother would pass up on an opportunity to be with someone who changed his life.”

“Ashton, I’m sorry. There’s not a moment that I don’t regret about our fight. I could’ve said anything to make her stay, but I was too afraid of being hurt.” Calum looked down in shame.

“You can’t keep letting the past determine your future,” Ashton urged. “Why did you let her walk out?”

“Ash, I don’t want to talk about that night.”

“Why did you let her walk out?” Ashton repeated, getting a step closer to Calum.

“Can you not do this?” Calum back away.

“We both know the real reason. Why won’t you admit it?” Ashton questioned.

“There’s nothing to admit! I was hurting, too, okay? She wasn’t the only one suffering in that fight!” Calum yelled.

“Were you suffering because you love her?” Ashton asked in softer tone than before.

Calum nodded as a stray tear ran down his face. “I let her walk out that door because she wanted to end things. She wanted to leave. Who was I to stop her? I wasn’t making her happy.”

“You have got to stop shutting people out. She’s good for you and vice versa. I know you’re scared of taking that leap of faith, but she’s trying to take it, too. Don’t let her fall to pieces because you’re afraid of the end results. This could be your happy ending.”

•••

Ashton walks into the bar, looking around for you as he made his way through the crowd. His head quickly turned when he hears your voice and sees you in at the end of the bar, talking to the bartender.

Right after the tender hands you a drink, Ashton states, “You can cut her off after this one.”

You scoff and glare at him as you slur, “Don’t listen to him. I’m perfectly fine!” Your crossed your arms as your lips pouted in defiance.

Ashton rolled his eyes as he sat down in the stool next to you. He couldn’t believe how drunk you’d gotten in just an hour of being here. “Y/N, you know drinking isn’t going to fix your problems. It didn’t help when we were on tour, and it definitely isn’t going to help while we’re here.”

You look down at the glass as your heart became heavy from Ashton’s words. “I know that. It just hurts less with whiskey in the system.”

Ashton sighs with a nod, handing his card to the bartender to take care of your tab. “Let’s go home. We can get you sobered up and talk if you want.”

“I don’t want to go home. I just want to drown in my sorrows while I accept the fact that Calum hates me. Why did I fall for him? Out of all your friends, I fell for the one with commitment issues. Maybe I’m not meant to be in love,” you sniffled.

Ashton’s heart broke for you once those words left your mouth. You’d always been like a sister to him and he hated to see you in such a state that he had no way of helping.

Ashton placed a gentle hand on your arm, urging you to get up. “We can talk more at the house. I don’t think you should be here, especially when it’s only six.”

You shrugged his arm off of you. “I don’t want to go home, Ash, because everytime I think of home, I think of Calum. Then, I get to thinking of our argument and if I was just being bitchy because he didn’t want what I wanted out of the relationship. Then I realized that I love him and how I never got to tell him because I was too busy trying not to get played again; yet, somehow, I still end up being the one that’s hurting. I should have never agreed to be with him without a label.”

Ashton ran a hand through his hair, contemplating on how he should respond.

He always knew that you truly liked Calum, but it never crossed his mind that after a few short months of being with Calum, you would be in love with him.

“Look, I get that you’re hurting. I know that you feel as if he never truly cared for you, and it was just a game. I can’t give you the answers you need but neither can this bar, so please, let’s get you sober at my house,” he begged.

You agreed as he lead you out of the bar. He helped you into his car and buckled you in as you asked, “What about my car?”

“Do you want to leave it here overnight? Or do you want someone to come get it?” he questioned.

“Can you get someone to get it?”

“Of course, I can. I’ll just have to stop by their house to give them the keys before we head home,” he softly smiled at you, closing the passenger door.

The drive consisted of you singing along to almost every song that came on.

You became quiet when you noticed Ashton pull into Calum’s driveway. “Why are we here?” you quietly spoke.

“He’s the only person free to get your car. We’ll be gone in five minutes. You don’t even have to get out of the car,” he reassured you as he got out and jogged to Calum’s door.

You softly hummed the songs to yourself as you fiddled with your fingers, waiting for Ashton to come back.

After a few minutes, Ashton got back into the car and the drive to his house was quiet.

He helped you inside, letting you crash in his bed as he decided to take the couch for the night.

Ashton plopped into the couch with a sigh, turning on the T.V. as he waited for Calum to show up with your keys.

He let his mind drift into your predicament with Calum. He never should have let you get close to Calum. He knew how Calum could get when things were actually getting serious for a change.

Ashton couldn’t help the gut feeling that your pain was his fault because he didn’t warn you of the walls Calum had built. Maybe if he would have talked to you, you wouldn’t be a drunk mess way too early in the evening.

There was a faint knock on the door, breaking Ashton from his thoughts. He opened it and grabbed the keys from Calum with a soft thanks before closing the door.

Calum placed his hand on it and poked his head back in and asked, “Is she okay?”

Ashton looked at him with tired eyes. “She’s all over the place, Calum. If you talk to her-- without yelling-- tomorrow, please don’t say anything you’ll regret. Just tell her the truth.”

“I don’t know what the truth is, Ashton,” Calum confessed.

“Tell her what you told me and mean it. I’ll talk to you later.”

Ashton sat your keys on the kitchen counter before laying on the couch and falling asleep.

{two}

~~~

tags: @meganwinchester1999 @gigglyirwin @cashton-queen @suburbanaesthetics @fayesfairylights @harvardhemmings@lukescherrypie @cocktail-calum @darthrogers @hopelessxcynic @lmao5sosimagines @calumamongmen @alotof1dlove @therainydays4 @charismaticcal @youngblood199456 @uncrowned-cal @bumblebet2 @sincerelycalum @5saucewho @ziamsbian @romanticalumhood @crownedbycalum  @5secondssofssummer@calumhoodslays @valentine-in-my-quinjet@hugs2forever @abitmorepersonall @lovely-melissaaaa @adcrjngs@babylon-uncrowned @itjustkindahappenedreally@claredolphinbear24 @norawashere @calumsphile @abitloudforanaccousticset @tswizzlemyfizzle @rosesfromcth @jpgluke @mycollectionofnuts @abrantesaurus @calumsphile @rosecoloredash @CassidyGhost @Lyndsey3177 @bodaciousidiot@freckleslikeflowers @exoticcal@clum-thomas @satan-i-guess @bby-lu @empathycth @you-of-ghost@lustingforwonder @ohhmuke@calssunflower @calumismyprince @wewanthood @moonlightgodcalum @marvelfan8 @hotcherrycth @sunnysideblogs @mysteriouslycali @1dthewantedlove @jetblackyoungblood @calteehood @softboycal @larryologymajor @all-i-want-is2b-loved-by-you @5sosfanficrec @therealmrshale @caswinchester2000 @fallfrxmgrace @damselindistressanu