#top shelf chapter 16

[sevikasupremacy]

Forever - Chapter 16 (FINAL)

LOYALTY - Sevika x Reader Series

NSFW!

Warnings: Explicit, cunnilingus, reader pleasuring Sevika

Words: 1.8k

Previous Chapter

Summary: You try to distract Sevika from the pain.

“Here… take it slow.” You supported Sevika by holding onto her forearm as you cautiously led her into the apartment. The older woman groaned as she walked toward her bed.

“Don’t move.” You gently pat her shoulder before rushing to the bathroom, grabbing a towel from a nearby table along the way.

You grabbed a bowl from a cabinet underneath the sink before filling it with warm water. You dropped the towel in, soaking it before heading back to Sevika.

“Okay…” You tightened your lips into a thin line, unsure of which wound to clean first. The older woman watched silently as you placed the bowl of water on the floor before picking up the towel. After wringing out the excess water, you stood up and brushed the strand of hair away from Sevika’s face to closely examine the wound on her forehead and her bloody nose.

You held her chin up with your index finger, beginning to wipe away the blood running from her nose.

You made sure to not apply too much pressure on each wound as you wiped them clean.

After finishing the first step, you stood back to get an overall look at the older woman in front of you. Her gray eyes shone with affection as she looked at you, clearly trying to endure the pain.

You set the bowl and towel aside before gesturing to Sevika to move back so she could lean against the bedpost. As she did, you put a pillow behind her to give her more comfort.

You hurried over to the shelf near the door, your fingers moving swiftly as you scanned the labels on the bottles that were filled with various forms of medication.

Your finger landed on one particular bottle before grabbing it, pulling the top off.

“Here. This can at least ease the pain a bit.” You placed two pills into Sevika's mouth, then poured some water to help her swallow them. Sevika coughed slightly before giving a small nod, indicating that she had swallowed the pills.

“Lay here. I’ll apply some medicine to your wounds.” Just as you were about to head over to the same shelf, a hand firmly grip your wrist, pulling you back. You gasped, looking at the older woman in confusion.

“Stay with me first.”

“But your wounds—“

“Just stay for a minute.”

You looked up at the older woman worriedly, your hand cupping the side of her face.

Sevika closed her eyes before pressing her lips against yours, her hand finding its way to the back of your head.

“I need to go get the medicine now…” You whispered in between the kiss with your half-lidded eyes. The older woman pulled away and kissed your forehead before nodding. You smiled, gently patting her lap before standing up.

Upon reaching the shelf, you grabbed a bowl filled with cotton swabs and the specialized medicine you crafted specifically for Sevika’s healing. It’s been a while since you discovered that this particular medicine was the most effective for her.

You quickly returned to the older woman’s side, sitting on the edge of the bed. You dipped the cotton swab into the medicine before taking another look at the wounds that were plastered all over Sevika’s body.

“I’ll be gentle.”

“I know.”

You raised an eyebrow at her, simultaneously dabbing the cotton swab against the wound near her cheekbone.

“You’re always gentle toward me.” Sevika warmly smiled, leaning closer to give you another kiss but you stopped her.

“You can kiss me all you want after I’m done.” You scolded, causing the older woman to huff in disappointment.

“Come on,” You sighed, continuing to treat the wounds, “The sooner I finish, the sooner we can cuddle.”

Sevika’s eyes lit up at the last word. She immediately returned to the same position, silently watching your hand.

As you attentively applied medicine over the bloody wounds, you couldn’t help but glance at the broken mechanical arm. Honestly, you didn’t know how to actually feel about this whole situation. It all happened way too quickly and you didn’t even get the time to process everything. But you were hurt… and furious.

The creation that you have built with so much love and effort was torn away in a second.

“Don’t worry.” You tried your best to hold in the tears, “I’ll figure something out.”

Sevika gave a quick glance at her mutilated mechanical arm before looking at you, a blank expression on her face.

“I’ll rebuild it. And I’ll make it much more stronger this time.”

As you spent the next hour finishing up and cleaning the medical supplies, you headed back to Sevika.

“Come lay.” The older woman murmured, patting the empty spot beside her.

You nodded and slowly climbed up, snuggling into the blanket before laying on your side to face the older woman.

“Aren’t you going to lay down too?” You stared at Sevika who was still sitting in her upright position against the bedpost.

“Yeah… in a bit.” The older woman hummed as she stared into the distance as if she was pondering.

“What’s wrong?” You immediately sat up beside her, your shoulder touching with hers.

“It’s just…” Sevika slowly turned her head to look at you, “It felt like yesterday when I was still shooing you away from my arm.” The older woman chuckled to herself.

“Thanks for not giving up on m-“

“Oh stop thanking me,” You interrupted her, furrowing your eyebrows as you placed your index finger vertically against her lips, “Honestly I should be thanking you. For giving me a place to stay… and protecting me.”

“How about…” You shifted your body closer until your hip was against the side of her arm, “We replace those ‘thank you’s with ‘I love you’s?”

Sevika smirked, slowly adjusting her body to lie down. Soft groans escaped her lips as she tried her best to hide the aching pain from her arm.

“Well then,” The older woman turned her head to smile at you, “I love you.”

You grinned, crawling over to carefully lay your head on her chest.

“I love you too.”

You closed your eyes, breathing in Sevika's scent until your heard her softly say your name again. You slowly opened your eyes, craning your head as a response.

"Kiss me."

You giggled, tenderly caressing the side of Sevika's face before pressing your lips on hers earning a satisfied hum. The older woman purred into the kiss, sensually licking your bottom lip.

You whimpered, habitually parting your lips to invite Sevika’s tongue. Despite the lingering pain, Sevika’s hand found its way to the nape of your neck, pulling you closer.

“Sevika…” You whispered, your fingers traveling down to the buttons on the older woman’s top.

You pulled away, biting your lip as you impatiently unbuttoned her top. Sevika’s deep chuckle could be heard as you pulled the fabric apart, your eyes darted toward her black bra.

“Like what you see?” The older woman smirked, tugging down on the cup of her bra, exposing one of her breasts. You licked your lips, lustfully staring at the obvious hardened peak.

You dipped your head to glide your warm tongue along her collarbone, causing Sevika’s breath to hitch. As you slowly slid your torso down, adjusting to the new position, you eagerly envelope the hard peak with your wet lips. Your tongue teasingly moved in a consistent circular motion. Sevika groaned, slightly arching her back as her hand gripped your hair.

You continued running your tongue against it before gently sucking. One of your hands yanked on the bridge of the bra before cupping her other breast. You pulled away, focusing on Sevika’s aroused expression as your hands groped her breasts.

“Fuck…” Sevika grunted as she stared at you with half-lidded eyes. Your hands moved down to her toned abs, your fingers danced around her soft, brown skin. The older woman unintentionally parted her legs wider as if she was already prepared for your next action.

You smirked, immediately moving your fingers to the button of her pants. After successfully unzipping her pants, Sevika bucked her hips up, waiting for you to pull it down. The older woman’s chest heaved as you examined the large wet spot on her underwear. You leaned down and planted a kiss on the wet patch before sliding the underwear down, the smell of arousal filled the air.

“You’re so wet…” You purred, spreading the folds with the pad of your thumbs, staring in awe.

“Stop teasing.” Sevika clenched her jaw, her hand still gripping your hair. You chuckled, sticking your tongue out before gliding it from the throbbing entrance up to the swollen nub. The older woman pushed your head closer, forcing you to suck. You moaned, relishing the taste of your lover.

“Fuck Y/N–” Sevika moaned, squeezing your head with her thighs, but not too hard that it’ll break your skull.

Your tongue rapidly moved against the aroused bud in a consistent rhythm.

“You’re doing so good.” Sevika bucked her hips up, grinding against your tongue.

“Yeah like that…Don’t stop.” Sevika’s trembling thighs squeezed a little harder, preventing you and your tongue from going anywhere. You continued, focusing on your movements.

As you felt a slight pain from Sevika’s grasp, a loud and strained moan echoed all around the room followed by something warm and wet against your tongue. You lapped up the mess before sitting up, wiping your mouth.

You looked forward, smiling proudly at the sight of the exhausted older woman. Her half-updo was disheveled and her body glistened with sweat.

“How was that?” You whispered, hovering on top of Sevika, brushing a few strands of hair away from her face.

“Perfect.” The older woman panted, reaching her hand up to caress the side of your face. You leaned into her touch before turning to kiss the palm of her hand.

You silently crawled back to your side of the bed before plopping down with a satisfied smile on your face.

“Hope that distracts you from the pain.” You teased, drawing a soft chuckle from Sevika.

You laid on your side once again, placing your hand on Sevika’s bicep, tenderly moving the pad of your thumb to calm her down.

“Can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.” You blurted out, noticing Sevika’s smile growing wider.

“Me too.” She whispered before closing her eyes, her tensed body leisurely relaxing into your touch.

The room grew silent as the two of you drifted off to sleep with smiles on your faces.

Amid all the chaos, you were grateful to find happiness with the person you love. It made you realize that no matter what happens, at the end of the day, Sevika will always be there, standing right in front of you. With that comforting thought, you let out a content sigh, knowing that with Sevika by your side, you could face anything. At that moment, you were ready to embrace whatever tomorrow brings…

As long as Sevika was with you.

Author’s Note: Hey guys! We finally reached the end of this series. I just want to say how grateful I am to receive so much support throughout this. Not only am I’m really glad that I could share this work with you all, it was also very fun reading all your comments ;) I’m really going to miss writing for this series and I’m really proud of it.

But the end of the series doesn’t mean the end of everything. I will, of course, still be active on Tumblr as I continue to write one shots and headcanons for Arcane.

Thank you so much. I never knew that we could all come this far and it’s such a thrill to see 💗

Taglist: @holysmokesblog @moonknightys @honeyr4ven @im-sidney @meetmeinthervng @uwuttaja @tiptoeingquietly @trashbod @Doc-blue @mayalopxz @pinkiedash101 @gabrielsellesty @rockyroad-is-bomb @jkkwin @idcplss @pinkrose1422 @thesevi0lentdelights

[kitthepurplepotato]

Chapter 18 - What’s on Izuku’s mind?

Summary: Izuku’s friends freak out over his weird behavior. When the boys go after him, Izuku’s secret gets revealed.

Warnings: Swear words, suggestive thoughts, quite a lot of talk about condoms. 😂 16+ for safety.

First Chapter Master List

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

“I’m quite sure you don’t need 15 protein shake powders for 5 days, Y/N.” Katsuki appears behind you with an incredulous look on his face. You were so deep in your thoughts you somehow put the whole shelf into your cart while you only need one. Great. “What’s strong, Sweets?”

Wow, that name sounds absolutely wrong from his mouth but you decide not to comment on that. He didn’t mean any harm with it. He never does.

“I said something in the plane that made him sad. But then he looked okay, but…” You mumble, trying your best not to cry in the middle of the grocery store. Katsuki sighs.

“But you are scared he was faking it and he’s crying in a corner right now.” Katsuki finishes your sentence. You turn around to look at him properly, and for your surprise, he looks just as concerned as you. “My fucking argument with the bird boy didn’t help either, so don’t worry, it’s not just your fault.”

“That doesn’t make me feel less stressed, Katsuki.” You retort with a sharp gaze.

“I know, but I also don’t want you to think everything is your fault. Because it’s not.” Katsuki bites his bottom lip with a frown on his face.

“Is this about Izuku?” Rody decides to join the conversation, his voice mild and careful.

He’s really trying, bless him.

“He’s been acting weird and left to look around alone instead of being with us. Usually, when he feels… down… he does that. Runs away like an injured cat ready to die.” Katsuki takes a deep breath, also doing his best to not start another quarrel with the brown haired man.

You can’t believe how much these two love Izuku. The fact that they are trying this hard right now speaks more than thousands of words ever could. He’s so lucky to have them.

“I can send a message in the city group chat about him. There are no secrets in this place, they’ll find him in a few minutes.” Rody is about to type a message on his phone, but Katsuki takes it away from him.

“Do you want to freak the shit out of him birdface… I mean Rody?!”

“Okay, that was a stupid idea.” Rody admits sheepishly. “Maybe you should go after him? You are his best friend after all.”

Instead of answer, Katsuki just gives the guy his phone back and looks at you with a worried expression.

“Keep an eye on Ei for me, make sure he only gets what he can carry to the top of the mountain. He’s also on a diet. If you see chocolate, explode it.” You can’t help but giggle at that. Whoever said Katsuki is an aggressive person is an absolute idiot. He makes his way towards the exit and looks back with a sharp gaze. “The fuck are you waiting for, foreigner, come on.”

Rody looks so surprised his jaw is about to hit the floor and you are not far away from doing the same. Wow. Just wow.

“I’m… coming?” Rody is frozen in one place, not sure if it’s safe for him to step closer or if this is a prank and he’s about to die.

“Are you?” Katsuki teases and no one gets offended this time. Phew.

“I am!”

~•🥦•~

“So what’s the plan?” Rody mutters to Katsuki, while he trails after him like a lost puppy. Katsuki can’t help but roll his eyes.

“We don’t need a plan. We find him and ask him what’s wrong. If he doesn’t answer, you leave and I’ll torture him until he does.”

Fuck, Izuku has been Katsuki’s best friend - he has two best friends, shut the fuck up - for fucking decades but this new, emotional instability is freaking the shit out of him, to be absolutely honest. He would lie if he would say Izuku hasn’t been… like this before, because he was, around the time he broke up with that shitty ass bitch, but back then, it was easy to see the reasons why he was acting the way he was while right now, Katsuki is a little bit confused.

Izuku never wavered when it came to hero work. Every time he fell on his face, he stood up and tried again. Then if he fell again, even if there was blood trailing down his forehead, he picked himself up once again and tried over and over until he got it right. Hell, the guy broke every single fucking bone in his body daily, just to be able to get better at using his quirk. Then after the war, when they were both broken down and banned from doing hero work or going back to school, he still studied, he still did his best every single day, not even worried about what the future holds for them. He never gave up, he never even thought about giving up or about the dangers of the job, he always went head first into the task and grinded until he got what he wanted.

This Izuku… is new to him. This Izuku isn’t sure about his future anymore and that’s the part Katsuki is freaking out about. He doesn’t know this Izuku. Doesn’t know that to say to him, how to ignite that flame once again and hell, Katsuki isn’t even sure what the fuck would he do if he would be in Izuku’s place right now. Obviously, none of them are in the business for the ranks anymore, that game stopped being fun once they reached the top and realized how much responsibly the title comes with. But Katsuki can understand how heartbreaking it can be to loose something you worked so hard for in a blink of an eye. Izuku is probably in shock right now, trying his best to comprehend the situation and that’s why he’s acting so strangely. He probably lost countless hours of sleep to the worry he feels every day, the worry that with him out of the picture the world will crumble, that innocent people will die if he’s not there on the battlefield and even though he has no reason to feel responsible for something he can’t control, it still eats him alive from the inside unknowingly, because that’s how Izuku is - Instead of enjoying the free time and all the love he gets from the fans, from his friends, from his family and mostly, from his girlfriend, he can’t help but dwell on the what ifs. It’s stupid, really, but Katsuki can’t lie and say he wouldn’t do the same in this situation. Even the most hard-headed person would crumble under such pressure. Hell, he would be fairing much worse, he would have burned the whole world down out of spite in Deku’s place. That guy is so fucking strong, what the fuck.

“You are muttering like Izuku.” Rody smiles at him with a knowing look on his face.

“Fuck off, I still hate you.”

“Why?”

That question made Katsuki jump out of his skin. Because honestly, why?

“Why do YOU hate me?” Katsuki retorts instead, giving himself enough time to think about his own answer.

“I don’t hate you, Bakugou, but I also can’t just let the past go.” Rody mutters. “I know I wasn’t there but… Izuku told me about how you treated him in middle school. And before you yell at me, I know you’ve changed. But the way you talk about me, the way you treat me reminds me of those stories. Reminds me of your despicable old self and I want to smack you in the face for it.”

Katsuki only gawks at the man right next to him.

“You can’t just throw that into my face, man!” He laughs, absolutely gobsmacked. “Fair play bitch, but you know jack shit about me!”

“I know, sorry.” Rody laughs back, followed by a dramatic sigh.

“Don’t be fucking sorry, it makes sense. And to answer your question I hate you because you managed to be friends with Deku in one fucking day while I couldn’t fucking get myself to say a single nice word to him but secretly wanted to be friends again. I was fucking jealous of you, you dick. You and your fucking sad background story and your cute fucking pink bird. Fuck you.”

Rody almost trips over a stone from how much he’s laughing right now. “Stop fucking laughing! It’s not funny! You traumatized me! Hugging him and shit like you knew each other for fucking ages!” He retorts but he can’t hide the smile on his face.

Katsuki sees a green blob through the window, in one of the small stores in this area. By the look of it, Izuku is hyperfocused on a box of…

“Are you fucking kidding’ me?” Katsuki mutters, his face full of incredulity.

“What… oh my god…”

It takes the two men several minutes before they can stop laughing. Then they enter the store.

~•🥦•~

“Welcome!” A lovely voice greets the green haired hero when he opens the door to the tiny cosmetic shop down the road.

Izuku is on a mission. Probably on the most important mission in his whole life and he’s been through a lot of shit.

If he messes this up, everything is over. He’s been waiting for this moment for so long and he’s at his limits; if he can’t have this one thing as soon as possible, the whole world will crumble. He’s been hyper fixating on this thing for ages. His therapist told him several times to just do it, it’s not something he’s not capable of in this state, so he has to let his ridiculously high expectations go and just let it happen naturally. He needs to stop thinking about it and just… do it. But he can’t just do it, can he? He needs to think about safety. Protection. He needs to make sure his Sweet Pea doesn’t hate this new side of him. He needs to make sure he has everything to be able to finish this mission successfully.

Hence why he entered this store. A cosmetic store/pharmacy.

Today, Izuku will purchase some… condoms.

He makes a beeline towards the sexual health isle. Then he freezes.

There are so many choices. Too many. He doesn’t understand why do people need so many. He doesn’t mean to brag but he never had to have a ribbed condom to make the other feel great. Isn’t sex all about finding out what your partner likes? What’s the point if you don’t put any work in it? It’s Izuku’s favorite part! The analyzing! Even though he feels weirdly reluctant about penetration when it comes to his sweet pea, to be absolutely honest. She’s so pure, so kind, so lovely. Izuku just want to please her without doing any damage. Not like having sex is damaging but… ahh, it’s hard to explain.

“Hello, sir, are you looking for something specific today?” The lovely customer adviser asks and that’s all Izuku needs to start muttering out all his thoughts.

“I’m here to buy some condoms but I haven’t used one in a while and there are so many options and I don’t really understand the need to have so many and I’m also terrified I’ll buy the wrong one and I’m not sure what’s trendy or what not or if it even matters, but what if it does and I choose the wrong one and what if she has one she prefers and I didn’t even ask? I should have brought her over but I wanted it to be a surprise and I didn’t want her to feel like she needs to uhm… you know… so I just wanted to have it around, just in case… I think I’m freaking out.”

Izuku knows he should be offended for being laughed at by the customer adviser but she looks so entertained he can’t tell her off for it. As we all know, Izuku likes to please.

“Well, I definitely didn’t think when I woke up today that I’ll be helping Japan’s number one hero choosing condoms but I’m glad I didn’t call in sick today.” Izuku feels mortified. He really didn’t think about his fame when he started babbling about his sexual life. He wants the earth to swallow him whole or just run out of the store but he really needs to buy at least one box today, otherwise he’ll be trapped in the mountains with the girl of his dreams for 5 days, surrounded by things that will definitely remind him of… well… that… and he can’t do that anymore.

“Well, do you know if she’s allergic to latex?”

Izuku freaks out once again.

“No, I don’t, oh my god, what do I do now?!”

“Calm down, we have latex free options so maybe take on of those just in case, this brand here is the most loved one.” The lady pops the box into his basket before he can freak out over it. “Now if it comes to the trends… I would go for something simple as you don’t know what your lady prefers yet. This one here is our bestseller, it has a texture that feels like skin, so it feels more natural. We have normal and extra large I’ll leave you to decide which one you want to go with.”

Izuku feels too awkward to actually choose so he just pops both versions into his basket.

Here’s the thing… he has no idea if it’s something that came with his inherited quirk or not but when he hit his growth spurt… his third leg grew as well. He only had one girlfriend and he tries to forget everything about her but he clearly remembers her saying that his size is uhm… respectable. He’s not sure what that exactly means so… yeah. He’s quite sure he used normal sized condoms before and while they are a little bit uncomfortable, it was okay. But maybe he just needs to try a different size.

Okay, Izuku. Focus.

“Do I need… uhm… lube?” Izuku mutters our loudly and for his surprise he doesn’t get laughed at this time; the lady looks at him, her eyes moving from his face to his legs and she… gulps. Izuku’s whole face becomes as red as a fresh strawberry from his garden.

“I don’t think so, but buy one just in case.” The lady blushes and stares out of the window, probably mortified by her own reaction.

“Why are they so many options.” Izuku whimpers as he looks at the massive selection. There are so many flavors and so many brands and… why do you even need them to be flavored…

Izuku, for the love of god, do not think about it. Do not go there. You know why they are flavored.

“I’ll… get the one that says natural. I think.” Izuku pops the lube into his basket with a blush on his face and that’s when the door opens.

“You motherfucker! We thought you are depressed!” Katsuki yells loudly, making the lady jump.

“Ahh, hi Catherine! I hope he didn’t say anything weird to you!” Rody puts his palm on the customer advisor’s shoulder.

“No, he just told me how much he loves his girlfriend, that’s all.” The lady winks and Izuku wants to disappear once again.

“Kacchan, are these okay?” Izuku shows his basket to his best friend, probably looking like a kid showing off his freshly caught beetles.

“How many times do you want to fornicate a day, Deku?” Kacchan asks the million dollar question as he looks at the three boxes in his basket.

“They are different, Kacchan. I couldn’t pick.”

“Well, first of all…” Kacchan takes the normal sized box out of his basket and puts it back on the shelf. “Don’t look at me like that, we’ve changed in front of each other quite a few times you know. I’m not saying the other won’t fit but this will be more comfortable.”

“Thank you, Kacchan!” Izuku stares at his best friend with eyes full of wonder. Kacchan blushes.

“Let’s go fucker, your girlfriend is fucking worried. Also, buy something else so you can say that’s what you wondered off for, if you don’t want to tell her about the condoms.”

“You are a genius!”

Katsuki only rolls his eyes at that.

Izuku gets Sweet Pea’s favorite perfume without even thinking about it; she’s been out of it for several days now but she said it’s too expensive for her budget, so needless to say, Izuku buys three of them. He also gets some chocolate from the counter and a cute pin with the Island’s name for everyone. He puts the condoms into the secret compartment of his backpack while he puts the rest on the top.

“Your secret is safe, buddy!” Rody winks as they make their way out of the store. Izuku thanks the lady once again for all her help and she asks for a selfie. Izuku complies.

“Yeah, don’t worry, birdface and I will make sure no one bothers you two when you are in your cabin.” Katsuki grins as he pulls Izuku closer by putting his arm around his shoulders.

“Yup. We are friends now.” Rody does the same from the other side and Izuku is sure they look like three drunken blokes right now but he’s so happy he doesn’t even bother about how they look.

“We are fucking not.” Katsuki grumbles, but he doesn’t say a single word when Pino sits on his shoulder, and that says a lot.

Life is great. Life is amazing. He doesn’t remember the last time he’s been so happy and nothing can fuck up his perfect mood, not even the dread he feels when he thinks about the future because right now, in this moment, he is the happiest nerd in the whole world.

~•🥦•~

“Izu!” You jump into your boyfriend’s arms just as he comes into your view. Honestly, this man will be the death of you one day. “Are you okay?!”

“Sweets, I just wanted to buy something. I’m sorry if it came off like I’m running away, trust me, all I want is to be with you and my friends. I’m so excited to go up, I’ve been sitting on my bum for so long, I can’t wait to get in shape here.” Izuku giggles and you feel a sudden urge to touch his bum to make sure it’s still in shape… khm. Sorry. Nevermind.

“Yeah, Japan can’t loose it’s number one juicy ass. That would be more devastating than a world war in this day and age.” Rody adds cheekily and both of your faces blush.

“Rody, please…” Izuku mutters, clearly uncomfortable with the sudden attention.

“Okay, can you guys stop talking about my boyfriend’s ass? That ass is mine. So back off!”

You can’t believe you said that, but you felt like it would make the group laugh, so… yeah.

What you did not expect was Izuku looking at you with half lidded eyes, clearly enjoying YOUR attention; he creeps closer, his lips right by the cusps of your ear as he whispers. “I didn’t realize you like it this much.” And hell if it doesn’t go straight to your… well… uhm. There.

“Izuku. For the love of god. Behave yourself.”

“I’m so sorry, I…” Izuku starts to stutter as he comes back to his senses. “Uhm, I don’t know why I did that, I just…”

“Shut up and starts going up that hill.” You spank that famous ass three times to make him move. Izuku’s facial expression changes between “I’ll devour you right here right now” and “omg everyone is watching me I’m scared” as he leads the way towards the cabins. It’s extremely hilarious.

“Wow, that tension was something else.” Tamaki gossips with Mirio who only laughs at the comment.

“I mean, there is something extremely romantic about making love in a cabin.” Mirio admits with a sigh.

“Great, I guess this is what you get for coming to a trip as the only single person in the group.” Kyouka moans as she follows the crowd.

“You can hang out in our cabin, Kyouka!” Kaminari perks up right away, probably excited to have someone to talk to because Shinsou is clearly not in the mood for a friendly banter right now, god knows why.

“We are all going to have a grill party this evening in OUR cabin, so keep it on your pants for now.” Katsuki declares. “Ei got all the meat possible so let’s go up because it’s fucking heavy.”

“I’ve got the booze!” Kirishima grins. “It’s also heavy!” He says but he doesn’t look bothered by it at all.

“Come on guys, if I’m not the last one up there, you all suck!” Izuku yells from the top of his lungs with a massive smirk on his face. Needless to say that comment makes the whole gang perk up.

“Oh boy, I’ll be the first!” Kaminari yells back, already running ahead of the team.

“Oi, not on my watch, Pikachu!” Katsuki is the next one to start sprinting then everyone starts running like maniacs except Kyouka, who decides to stay with you, walking in a normal pace.

“He looks excited.” Kyouka smiles at you as he looks at Izuku running with Katsuki, borrowing some help from black whip when the “road” is too steep.

“I really hope he enjoys himself.” You say dreamily and Kyouka gives you a shit eating grin.

“Not unless he can see you, so move your legs, bitch, we need to catch up!” She pulls you forward aggressively, almost making you fall.

“Hey!” You laugh, but you start running anyway; with so many heroes around, you are quite sure someone will catch you if you fall.

… Next Chapter!

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Potato ramble:

- If you read the last chapter of my Kirishima fic you already now but if not… I’m not sure if I’ll be able to post as frequently or at all. I’m going through a tough time and it greatly affects my writing, especially this story, to be honest, so if I don’t post for a while, I’m sorry. I don’t really want to get into details for now as it would make it way too real and right now I’m trying to just ignore it and keep going, but… if it escalates, I’ll let you know. Please be patient with me. I’m doing my best. Also, if you see me post other stuff but not this one it’s probably because I have a bunch of chapters already written for everything but this one. I’m not neglecting this story I’m just… done.

- Now let’s talk about this chapter and leave the angst behind 😂

- I absolutely love this new unhinged version of Deku. He’s slowly starting to be himself and I’m so proud of him I want to cry. He’s not shy anymore, he knows what he wants and he also knows he’s loved for who he is and not for the facade he usually shows to the people around him and damn, that’s a character development!

- I hope you laughed when you realized what Izuku’s problem was. I definitely laughed my ass of while writing this chapter, especially when I was writing the beginning with the drama while knowing what the real “problem” is 😂

- Oh, also! You can support me with a “coffee” if you would like! It won’t help my mental issues but it helps me pay rent and buy more figurines for comfort so yeah. I’m just throwing this out there just in case. 😂

- Tell me your thoughts! Send me a comment! Distract me! Please and thank you! 😂

TL:

@garfieldthomas @porusuniverse @stickygumchewer @sixxze @mily-moo @aei-sedai-moiraine @aymasakusa @katsuari @kenzie-deadly @shiviwrites07 @lukerycyja-reblogs @cloroxisadelectabletreat @coffeent @kisskissshutmydoor @bobcar1 @yazminetrahan @cringefan @ronimacaroni77 @themultifandomgirl @dangerousluv1 @emperatris-rinaka @shotos-angelic-whore @angelsdemonsmonsters @norvacaine @rei165 @unofficialmuilover @yao-ai @happydragonfrog @eeerreehhh @vinivave

[gotham-ruaidh]

Little Bit Better Than I Used To Be

Catch up: Chapter 1 (Starry Eyes) || Chapter 2 (Save Our Souls) || Chapter 3 (Dancing On Glass)|| Chapter 4 (Merry-Go-Round)|| Backstage (1) || Backstage (2) || Chapter 5 (Danger)|| Backstage (3) || Chapter 6A (Love Walked In) || Chapter 6B (Without You) || Backstage (4) || Chapter 7 (Stick To Your Guns) || Chapter 8 (Time For Change) || Backstage (5) || Chapter 9 (Take Me To The Top) || Backstage (6) || Chapter 10 (Home Sweet Home) || Backstage (7) || Chapter 11a (Nightrain) || Chapter 11b (Nothing Else Matters) || Chapter 12a (Handle With Care) || Chapter 12b (I’m So Tired of Being Lonely) || Chapter 13a (Angel) || Chapter 13b (She’s My Addiction) || Chapter 13c (Patience) || Chapter 14a (Where Do We Go Now?) || Chapter 14b (Where Do We Go Now?) || Chapter 14c (Where Do We Go Now?) || Chapter 15a (Dreams) || Chapter 15b (I Sing A Song of Love) || Chapter 15c (You Can Do This If You Try) || Chapter 16 (Let That Feeling Grab You Deep Inside || Chapter 17A: Never Tear Us Apart || Chapter 17B: It’s Tough To Be Somebody, And It’s Hard Not To Fall Apart  || Chapter 17C: I’m Wishing, Lord, That I Was Stoned || Chapter 18: Turn The Page || Chapter 19A: When You’re Alone, Do You Let Go? || Chapter 19B: Heading For A Spin ||| Also posted at AO3

Chapter 20A: I Don't Need Nothing When I'm By Your Side

So hold me close, better hang on tight Buckle up, baby, it's a bumpy ride We're two kids hitching down the road of life Our world, our fight

-- “Born To Be My Baby,” Bon Jovi (1988) [click here to listen]

North Carolina || February 1989

Jamie frowned, looking back and forth between the shelf he’d just put together and the three unpacked boxes of books (two marked CLAIRE, one marked JAMIE).

Would she like them organized alphabetically by author? Genre? Size?

He rubbed the back of his neck, thinking. Or perhaps she wanted medical books in her workroom? And maybe he could put his music books on the cabinet in his studio –

“There you are.”

He hadn’t heard Claire pad into the room – at some point they would need to get throw rugs to protect the gorgeous old hardwood floors – and smiled as she effortlessly stepped into his embrace.

They held each other for a long moment – his lips against her hair, her face buried in the safety of his neck.

Almost three months since the acoustic tour had ended, the night before Claire’s birthday. About six weeks since they had closed on their dream house, nestled against a mountain in the forests of North Carolina, not too far from The Ridge. And about two weeks since the items in storage – from her packed-up apartment in Boston, and his packed-up house in Los Angeles – had arrived.

The property had everything they needed. Privacy and solitude, of course. An old barn that they were using as a garage for Jamie’s motorcycle and cars. The house – an old cabin, really, dating from the 1800s and which had been lovingly expanded over the years – was perfect. A spacious living room, complete with the original stone fireplace. An eat-in kitchen, with newly replaced appliances. Two small rooms off the back that were now his music studio and her workroom – spaces to pursue their interests. A modestly-sized master bedroom. And a small extra bedroom – which for now was for guests, though God willing would be a nursery very soon.

Claire had insisted on doing two things quickly, before spending their time unpacking all the boxes.

The first was to hang his six gold and two platinum records in his studio – and he agreed, after he had hung her framed medical school diploma on the wall of her workroom.

The second was to install the fax machine on the bare floor of the studio – which, together with the phone, was their only link to the outside world.

For as much as they isolated themselves in this beautiful, peaceful place – the world pushed along without them.

In March, they would leave for L.A. and three weeks of rehearsals with the band. Maybe play a few small gigs in clubs on the Sunset Strip – Jamie had always wanted to do that. And in April, they’d fly to Europe, and kick off the tour that had swelled to 120 dates and stretched into 1990.

Colum was busier than ever – finalizing logistics, negotiating with local promoters, running interference with the suits from the label, upgrading the concerts from arenas to soccer stadiums. He had a conference call with the band every Tuesday – with Ian calling in from Lallybroch in upstate New York, and Angus from various resort spots in Mexico and the Caribbean (“I can’t believe Charlotte and Molly haven’t worn him out yet,” Jamie had mused to Claire one day. She had only shrugged and said, “they take care of each other”). Colum would always have a punchlist of decisions for the band – OK to book studio time during the week off in Scandinavia in July? The roadies couldn’t figure out the pyro setup without the band, OK to wait until rehearsals? They would need to film at least three music videos, which one could be a live performance? – and follow up with decisions in a fax sent later that day.

Jamie had been clear with Colum that he had three conditions for the tour: that Claire would be with him, that Raymond would be traveling with the band, and that the same no alcohol/drugs/groupies rule from the acoustic tour would carry through to this tour. Of course Colum had agreed. Just as he’d agreed to make provisions for Jenny to periodically fly out to visit Ian, and for Angus to always have a suite with two bathrooms to keep his girlfriends happy.

Claire and Jamie knew that this tour would be difficult, for so many different reasons. But they would be better prepared this time, to draw strength from each other, and to have Raymond for support. And maybe, just maybe they would return home from Europe with the best souvenir of all…

“Another fax from Colum,” Claire murmured after a long while.

Jamie snorted against her hair. “I don’t know whether to be impressed or annoyed.”

“I do admire how hard he’s working for you and for the band. And how much he’s keeping all of you in the loop on the decisions he’s making. He doesn’t want any surprises.”

“I’d imagine not. The amount of bullshit he has to be putting up with right now must be insane. I just hope he doesn’t crack.”

“He never said if he’s bringing Tricia on the tour.” Tricia – Colum’s wife of more than ten years. She stood a head taller than her husband, still impossibly beautiful in her late thirties, smiling for every frown on her husband’s face. Claire had only met her once – couldn’t say she really knew her – but she knew enough about her.

How she had first met Colum at a party in 1970, when he was a roadie for Led Zeppelin and she was part of a gaggle of groupies that held court at the Riot House in L.A.

How, when she and her girlfriends joined the Led Zep tour the following summer, he had punched out the lighting guy at the Cow Palace in San Francisco when he heard the guy didn’t understand what Tricia meant by saying “no”.

How Geordie Ash – the reporter who had put Jamie (and, in a way, Claire) on the map last year with that Rolling Stone article – had sent flowers to her hotel room every day for a month during Led Zeppelin’s 1973 U.S. tour. Not knowing, of course, that she was allergic to lilies – or how Colum, who knew more about her by that point than he cared to admit, had wordlessly disposed of them for her, every day that month.

“I don’t think she likes to tour.” Jamie’s thumb traced lazy circles on the skin of Claire’s back. “Too many bad memories.”

If you asked any rock journalist or musician who had found Alex MacGregor – assistant to Led Zeppelin manager Peter Grant – dead in his Seattle hotel room in the spring of 1975, they would all say quite confidently that it had been Colum Laird, who by that point had advanced to lead Zeppelin’s touring crew.

But a handful of people – Peter Grant, and Colum, and Jamie, and now Claire – knew the truth.

Tricia woke up, Alex cold beside her in bed, a needle in his arm. The only thing she knew to do was slip quietly down the hall, tumbling into Colum’s room…and finally, his arms. Where she had remained ever since.

“I couldn’t imagine being away from you for so long.” Claire sighed. “I don’t know how they make it work.”

Jamie shrugged. “They love each other very deeply. They fixed the broken pieces in each other. And now she has the two boys to keep her busy.” He kissed her forehead. “Something for us to aspire to, perhaps. What’s in the fax?”

She held it out for him to read. Sharing a smile at Colum’s scrawl.

J+C: I’m not calling because I interrupted enough moments between you on tour and I’ll probably do it again this year. I don’t have Raymond’s info pls have him get in touch so we have a copy of his credentials and the travel agent can make all arrangements for Europe. I got the label to foot the bill for his travel meals and hotels, convinced them it’s a business expense, you’re welcome. Stay out of trouble. Colum.

“We’ll have him give Colum a call after he arrives this afternoon,” Jamie mused, folding the fax and sliding it into the back pocket of his jeans.

Claire nodded. “The guest room is all ready. And I’m glad Dougal and Gillian and William will be here tomorrow – I’m so happy they’re so close by.”

Jamie squeezed her shoulder, and released her. “As am I. Now, I have a question for you about these books…”

[eddiemunsons80sbaby]

Nobody's Fool: Chapter 1

Summary: You have bartended for years after you were forced to drop out of college due to family circumstances. You have dated your fair share of musicians, had your heart broken by one particular one, and have learned they are not be trusted. You have sworn off of them for the rest of your life. Then, one night, a new band plays at the bar, and against your better judgement, you can't help noticing the lead singer and guitar player. Could he possibly be different from the ones who came before him?

Warnings: 18+ Only due to eventual smut and language. There is also a toxic family relationship if that is triggering for you.

So, this is an EddiexOC that I have on my Wattpad and AO3. @mmunson86 recommended that I share some of my longer fics on here too. I know most people don't prefer that so I decided to edit it into a reader fic for here. I would love to know what everyone thinks and if this is something you'd be interested in reading more of. If so, I have quite a few other books I could do this with down the road. If not, I'll just stick to my one shots. 😂😂😂

MasterList

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28

“Joey, we need more vodka from the back!” you called out from behind the bar. 

“I’ll get you that vodka, sweetheart, when you finally let me have that date,” Joey countered, leaning across the bar, flashing you a smile and wiggling his eyebrows up and down. 

“In your dreams,” you chortled.

“You got that right. Every single night.”

“Ugh, you’re so disgusting,” you gagged. “Just go get the damn vodka. We have three bands playing tonight and John says we’re going to have quite the crowd. We need to make sure the bar is fully stocked.”

“Okay, okay,” Joey sighed, throwing his hands up in defeat. “You can’t blame a guy for trying.”

“You can when it’s the 100th time and he still fails,” you called over your shoulder as you checked the rest of the liquor. John had been adamant that you be as ready as possible before those doors opened for customers tonight. 

The first of the three bands had just finished sound check and the second was about to come on stage. They'd been alright but not enough to really catch your attention, just your average, mediocre local band. You came out from behind the bar to check all the condiments on the table and top them off if needed. 

“Your vodka, my queen,” Joey announced, making a big show of bowing and presenting two large bottles to you, one mid shelf, one low shelf. “Do you want me to grab the expensive shit or will these work for the night?”

“Those should be fine,” you replied. “I don’t see us getting high end clientele for a bunch of townie bands. Can you fill the condiments on the tables so we don’t have people asking for ketchup all night?”

Joey saluted you before heading off. You headed back behind the bar to clear the beer lines, pouring out a few ounces from each tap. There was nothing worse than having the taps malfunction when you had a bar full of drunks demanding more beer. Things got real rowdy, real fast when that shit happened and you were not in the mood for a bunch of belligerent drunks yelling at you because they couldn't drink until they couldn't see straight.

This job was supposed to be temporary, a stepping stone to something else. It was supposed to be a job that helped pay your way through college, but that's not what happened. Life happened and college fell by the wayside and here you were, four years later, still slinging drinks in this place. 

It wasn’t a bad gig. The tips were great and the regulars loved you. You got to hear some amazing bands play. Free live music was definitely a perk of your job. There was nothing that could turn your mood around faster than good, live music. You never had to rise before the sun, which worked for you because you had always been a creature of the night. Still, you felt a bit like a loser, still tending bar at twenty-five instead of moving on to a real career, as your mother always liked to remind you.

“Everything set?” John asked as he came striding out of his office. 

“As ready as we’re going to be,” you answered. 

The second band had just begun sound check. You weren't paying much attention, not expecting anything special, as you did a last wipe down of the bar and tables. Then you heard the voice come over the mic and you paused mid-swipe, your bar duties abandoned. That voice was incredible, excellent range and pitch. It had this sultry, raspy quality that made you think about sweaty bodies tangled up in one another amid the sheets. But it also had this soothing, pleasant tone that felt like being curled up in your bed on a cold day, the comforter cocooned around you. 

Forgetting all about the tables that needed cleaning, you turned to look at the stage because you had to see who that voice belonged to. Jesus Christ, what metalhead erotica novel did this man step out of? You head tilted, your hand coming up to your chest as your eyes raked over every inch of the beautiful man holding the guitar and singing into the mic. It should be a fucking crime to be that gorgeous.

He was tall, close to six feet with shoulders that filled out his tee quite nicely. He was lean but strong looking. As he shifted, the Iron Maiden tee rose up, revealing a bit of skin along his waist, just enough for you to glimpse the happy trail just above his button on those gloriously fitted ripped jeans and you couldn't help imagining where that trail might lead. Long, beautiful brown waves cascaded past his shoulders, moving around like the choppy waves of a stormy sea as his head rocked along to the strums of his guitar.

You were completely lost in the vision that was this man. You had seen endless musicians take this stage. You couldn’t even give someone a number if you wanted to, far too many to count. You had seen some beautiful men perform, men that could knock your senses loose with a look, but you had never seen anything like him. You didn’t know who he was, but you knew you were going to have to steer clear of him if you were going to stick to your promise to yourself. That one was trouble with a capital ‘T’.

“Hey John,” you said, walking back over to the bar, forcing yourself to turn away from the vision under the stage lights. “Who is the band that’s on stage right now? I’ve never seen them before.”

“Oh, that’s Corroded Coffin,” he said with a chuckle. “I was a bit hesitant when I saw their name. It sounded a bit cheesy, you know? But damn if they aren’t pretty good.”

“Yeah they are,” you agreed. “Why haven’t they ever played here before?”

“They usually play at the Hideout, and a buddy of mine saw them there the other week. He told me I needed to get them to come here because they were being wasted over there. They only gave them the Tuesday night slot, not much of a crowd. Even with a name like that, he swore they were one of the best bands he’s seen around town. So, I figured why the hell not? I like to give people a shot, especially the young ones just trying to find their place. Judging by what I’m hearing, they’ll be invited back.”

“Yeah…” you said, thinking you couldn’t possibly want anything less. It was going to be very hard to behave and avoid him if that guy was here on the regular. 

“Uh-oh,” Joey teased, finished with the condiments. “I know that look. You falling for another rockstar?”

“Shut up,” you snapped. “No, I am definitely not. In case you forgot, I have sworn off all musicians for the rest of my life. They’re all a bunch of douchebags, anyway.”

“Yeah…because I haven’t heard that song and dance before,” he snorted with a chuckle. “I’ve been trying to get you to give me a shot for years now but, sadly for me, I have not a musical bone in my body and you have a thing for musicians, particularly long haired guys who can play guitar.”

He gestured to your shirt and you looked down. You were wearing your Van Halen tee and yes, you did have a thing for Eddie Van Halen, but like, who didn’t? The man was a gorgeous rock god. 

“Actually,” Joey said, looking from your shirt to the stage, “I can see a resemblance there.”

“Oh shut up, there is not,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes. “Eddie Van Halen is rock royalty. He is a guitar prodigy. No one can compare to him.”

“If you say so,” he said with a shrug. “I don’t think I’m exactly the authority on hot rock gods.”

You tossed a rag at him, telling him to finish the tables. You hadn’t noticed that the music had stopped, so focused on trying to think of anything but the one thing you really shouldn’t be thinking about. You absolutely could not let yourself go there again, especially after the last time. You went back behind the bar and bent over to stock beer mugs on the shelf when you heard a whistle from behind you. 

“Well, that’s a lovely view. Hello there sweetheart. Can I get a beer?”

Standing, you spun around to come face to face with that ridiculously gorgeous man who had you paralyzed mere moments ago. If it was possible, he was even more beautiful up close. Those eyes, fuck, they were like melted chocolate, the kind that ran down your fingers on a hot summer day as you tried to eat your s'more as fast as you could. And his lips were so full and luscious, you just wanted to come across the bar, grab onto that shirt, yank him to her and find out what they felt like against hers. Your tongue ran over your bottom lip just imagining how they would taste. 

You quickly shook it off. No, you absolutely were not going there again. This guy may have the face of an angel, but you knew better. All these damn rock stars were the same. You grabbed a mug, filled it from the tap and slid it over to him before turning away to resume your job.

“Damn, that’s quite the cold shoulder,” he said, taking a sip of his beer. “I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure. Trust me, I would remember. So, what could I possibly have done to deserve that?”

“Oh, I’m sure you have a laundry list of offenses that could warrant that. I’m guessing you can handle a little chill. I can’t imagine I’m the first lady who’s given you the same treatment,” you said, keeping your back to him.

“That’s quite an assumption,” he said, sitting down on the stool, drumming his fingers on top of the bar. “You don’t even know me.”

“I know you,” you huffed with a harsh laugh. “I have known dozens of men just like you.”

“And what kind of man is that, exactly?”

“You think you’re a rock star even though you’re only part of a small townie band that plays for the local drunks each week and it makes you think you’re untouchable. Your guitar is just a metaphor for your dick. You have a complex about it and you treat it better than you’ve ever treated any woman. It was probably the only reason you got girls in high school. Hell, it's probably the only reason you get girls now. You play shows and look for some piece of ass to play around with and then the next show you look for a new one. Love them and leave them wanting more, right? If you do keep a girl around, you probably have another already lined up or one you’re already screwing on the side. You can’t stick with just one because it’s not how you’re built. You’re always looking for something more interesting or entertaining. Am I close?”

“Sweetheart, you couldn’t be farther away if you were on the moon,” he said. 

“Sure, of course,” you said, winking at him. “You’re that rare good guy musician.”

“I don’t know if I’d go that far,” he chuckled. “But how about we start with names? I’m Eddie.”

Fuck, this had to be a joke. His name could not be Eddie. You glanced down at your shirt and then back up at him and he smirked. 

“Yeah, like the guy on your shirt, but not named for him,” he said. “I mean, I would be honored as he is one of the sickest guitarists to ever live but he would have been a kid when I was born.” You just stared at him so he raised his eyebrows, holding his hand out. “And this is the part where you tell me your name.”

“Y/N,” you answered flatly. 

“Y/N, beautiful name for a beautiful girl,” Eddie smiled, winking at you. 

Your body was having a fierce internal battle between your brain and your desire. This guy was not only beautiful, but there was something about him, something that was pulling you in like a magnetic field and you were trying hard to repel it. You were telling yourself not to be fooled, but damn if you didn’t want to take your chances and see where this went. Joey was right. You had a problem with long haired guitar players, but this one was something else entirely. What was it about him?  

“So, Y/N, what do you say you let me take you out sometime?” he asked, lifting one eyebrow at you and you gripped the edge of the bar as your legs turned to jelly.

“No, I don’t think so,” you answered, determined to stay strong no matter what your body desired. And oh, it desired, you could feel it's desire pulsing between your legs.

“Why not?”

“”I already told you,” you stated. “I know your type. I’ve dated your type, and I’m not interested.”

“Well, that’s not fair. You don’t even know me. I promise you, I’m not like any guy who’s taken you out before. Sweetheart, I know for a fact you’ve never known anyone like me.”

Oh, you had no doubt of that but he was still a musician. You'd walked this path before and it only ended in heartbreak. You weren't doing it again. 

“Maybe not, but my answer is still no,” you told him firmly. “I am sure you will have your pick of ladies tonight after the show. Your band is really good. Clearly, you know you’re good looking. The girls will be lining up for you boys later. You’ll have no problem finding some fun.”

“What if I don’t want just any lady? What if I want the one standing in front of me?” he asked, leaning on the bar. Did he have any idea what his gaze did to you? He probably did. Guys like him always knew what they were doing and they enjoyed it. 

“Sorry, this one is not available. Now, if you don’t mind, I have to make sure we’re ready for the crowd tonight and don’t you need to get ready for your show?”

“You are going to go out with me,” Eddie said confidently as he rose from the stool. 

“Points for positivity,” you teased, heading to the back. You closed the door to the stockroom, sucking in great gulps of air. Damn, that boy was going to test all your resolve. 

So, I am not a fan of writing the Y/N. I had to here because they were just meeting but I am going to try to keep the pet names from here on out.

[room-on-broom]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

Tug by @marvellouslymadmim thank you so much me luv

Tagging @heathtrash @teapotteringabout @holdmecloser-gandydancer @womble1 @janetm74 @kiwi-cackles and YOU! and who else wants to do it! more questions under the read more

1. How many works do you have on A03?

48 (60 on fanfic)

2. What's your total A03 word count?

I've no idea, i messed up on my calculator and dont have the pactience to go back over it

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Currently Stingray and Thunderbirds. and worst witch. its always worst witch

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

Jabberjay-ded (128 vs 4 comments lol) Little Wizard, The Broken Hand mirror, Mildred's Monstrous Misadventures, (ah yeah witching kind!) and I saw Seven Idiots.

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Fanfic.net dosnt let me reply any more??? but I do try to. even if its just a key smash and a thankyou. or if its an emoji spam i emoji spam back. I love those.

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Hm. The closest ones I could think of are Death's acquaintance and In grief we bake. I don't tend to do agnsty endings. even the sad ish ones are kind hopeful.

EDIT: JABBERYJAYED! I forgot!? litreally a hunger games fic ends up in devistation?? fool.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I couldnt narrow it down so top 2: I saw 7 Dogs and Christmas Cards

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Onlya few times in the past. two of those times were Worst witch ship trolls and just deleted them. one was my fault, i got uppity with an 'UPDATE NOW' comment and user just went a few my other fics being rude. againn deleted.

9. Do you write smut?

write yes. post no. (not yet-!) :o

10. Do you write crossovers?

yes. Ive have a good half a dozen under my belt and a couple in the works.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

angain no not that i know of.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No but I would count @teapotteringabout @kiwi-collideoscope and Princess Sammi as , the amount i've bouced ideas about with them.

14. What's your all-time favourite ship?

Mary Poppins and Bert. the OTP before i knew what the internet was.

15. What's the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Froot, SEASICK and Cherrytree Carol. plus a bunch of WW ones. I keep picking them up but i feel like they might be left on the shelf a little longer.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Dialogue and character voices. I also love mixing humour in too, even just a little sprinkle into sad bits and I think i do that quite well.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Plot bunnies. and not finishing current WIPS. Ive made a mountain of improvement on that frount but yeah posting chapters before before the fics even 50% done. To the point ive sequeals to fics that are only two lines of an epic.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

Massivise kudos who can do that. not my forte. The closest I've come is writing the odd burst of ASL and BSL for Unshackled and Chest Compressions, and a pinch of welsh for Lucretia’s Baller but as yet Hypothetical Birthday Cake.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Corpse Bride (2005). a sad little fic for a le sad victor van dort.

20. Favourite fic you've ever written?

Ever? Probably have to Mildred's Montorus adventures. but Your mother and Mine's got a special place in my heartjust cos family and the catharisis .

Thank you!!

[aemonds-wifey]

A Stolen Kiss Over Wine

Chapter 1

Summary: After a painful break up , your best friend Aegon is there to help you get over your heartache …

“Wha…do you mean…?” You asked with confusion.

You sat on the couch, alone in your loft apartment talking to your boyfriend Jacob. You had been together for about four months, he was lovely , bookish but something was missing from his interactions with you…after every kiss or hug you needed more. In the bedroom he was…nothing to boast about but more than satisfactory. You had met him through work, you had landed your dream job as a proof reader for a publishing house- reading books for a living. Amazingly you had the loft apartment you dreamed of, High windows and ceilings, rustic kitchen , open spaces and a master bedroom with an en suite and walk in wardrobe. You considered yourself very lucky. Meeting Jacob was the cherry on the cake.

And yet a mere 16 weeks later here he is…breaking up with you over the phone.

“So that’s it…Jesus Jacob this couldn’t have waited? I was suppose to see you in an hour!?” You were angry, hurt and incredibly mystified.

“Go to hell Jacob . Just go to hell!” You shouted throwing the phone across onto the large lounge chair.

You laid back on the couch and felt your heel kick the cushion breath your feet. You then groaned as the door knocked twice. You got up and opened the door, your best and oldest friend Aegon stood there looking chipper as always, he wore a dark green coat with grey jumper and solid blue jeans he looked very chilled. His hair slightly ruffled.

The smile on Aegon’s face faded as he saw your annoyed expression “Bad Time?” He said - looking at your attire. Perfect. You thought. Your hair was half up in a messy bun, wearing your old Bowie t shirt and your ladies burgundy boxers.

Aegon smirked as you failed to answer “Jacob not up for it ?”

You shrugged “No he…we broke up.”

He immediately stepped in and closed the door behind him, he wrapped you in a hug

“Ahhhh Y/N I’m sorry.”

His familiar musky scent strangely reassured you as you felt calmer. He placed his hands on your shoulders and looked at you “Forget him.” He reached inside his coat pocket and produced a bottle of red wine.

“Aegon wha…” you said as you watched him go to the kitchen , you followed him “Please tell me you don’t just carry one of those around ?” He removed his coat and tossed it onto the back of the couch.

He reached up the top shelf above the sink and brought down two wine glasses , as he opened the bottle he looked at you “If I tell you my reasoning …you’ll hate me”

As he picked up the glasses and the bottle you folded your arms “Aegon if anybody around here is gonna be truthful you know it’s you.”

You and Aegon had been friends since the first years of school, you rarely argued and were the very definition of best friends. You admitted he has grown up into an attractive man, and he occasionally complimented on how you had blossomed into a beautiful young woman. But he was your best friend and the idea of being with him had never crossed your mind.

He chuckled as you both strolled to the couch he put the glasses down on the table and held onto the bottle , you kept your eyes on him as you sat down

“Jacob was a looser …you were too good for him. I knew…if you came to your senses or worst case scenario he’d be an idiot and dump you then…” he said wriggling the bottle in his hands.

You sighed “I …thanks. You always have the answer….”

He shrugged “I know how to look after you .”

You nodded “ Still sucks getting dumped.”

He sat down putting the bottle on the table , he lightly patted your knee , your legs were smooth and he picked up on that... As his hand did not move. He squeezed it slightly before folding his arms against his chest.

“I must have missed Jacob on my way up- don’t tell me he took the lift?”

Aegon asked

You cleared your throat “He ..rang me. Ended things over the phone.” You said

Aegons smile faded “He what?”

You shrugged, reassuring the fact that Jacob had in fact ended things with you over the phone. “Legit two minutes before you knocked.”

“What a dickhead.” Aegon said leaning forward and pouring the wine into your glasses.

He held up his glass with a cheeky grin “Here’s to you Y/N. Free of that idiot….and here is hoping the next man you hook up treats you right.”

You chuckled and clinked your glass with his “Cheers.”

That first bottle of wine did not see the next hour, you had ordered pizza to share to help soak up the alcohol, it did not help.

Much though as you felt slightly tipsy as the night continued to see you and Aegon sat in the living room

Drinking your sorrows away. Aegon had switched on some music, streaming his playlist consisting of a mixture of his favourite tunes as well as his own compositions.

You were sat on the floor in front of the table , Aegon remained on the couch looking so cozy and relaxed.

As you leaned over to top up your glasses you noticed the bottle was empty , you jumped to your feet slightly unsteadily to which Aegon laughed “You be careful…I’m not first aid trained!” He giggled.

“You’re a music teacher shouldn’t that be a thing?” You pointed out.

He laughed “The most chilled of subjects to teach.” You chuckled as You wondered over to your bookshelf , moving a few books and grabbing something.

“Where are you going ?” He asked

You returned holding a bottle of Johnnie Walker

“Oh …why not .” He held up

His glass and you clumsily poured some in his and in your own.

“Do you remember when we went to the Johnnie Walker experience in Edinburgh?” He asked leaning forward towards the table.

You nodded giggling slightly “that was a good couple of days…we should go back there soon.”

“Round Two Y/N?” He said picking up his glass and inhaling the Smokey whisky scent.

You raised your glass “Yes! Let’s go there again!” You took a sip and felt your inhibitions getting looser. Aegon too was slightly tipsy as he almost missed the table putting his glass down “Bad influence you are.” He said as you poured more into his glass. You didn’t respond, only laughing a little.

“You trying to get me drunk?” He asked smiling

“Doesn’t need s lot of trying Aegon your such a light weight.” You chuckled

“Pot kettle black.” He grinned.

You playfully patted him on the shoulder before returning to the floor opposite him. “Come on cheer me up…how’s Zoe?”

He didn’t nod with huge excitement but he smiled only slightly “Yeah she’s…great.” Aegon had been dating this girl Zoe whom you only met a few times, she seemed nice but she wasn’t very warm to you.

You tilted your head slightly taking a sip of wine “Oh? Trouble in paradise?”

He took a drink of wine and swirled the glass in his hand “I like her and she’s nice ….but I don’t know…” his voice trailed off as he bit his lip upon reflection, you were drawn to it and quickly masked your expression by taking another drink.

“You’ve only been��going out what? A month?” You asked “Still early days Mate.”

He nodded “I suppose.” He smiled over his glass.

He suddenly sprung to his feet, standing near you to lean down and reach for a slice of pizza. He picked one up but dropped it when the next song came on.

“Ohhh yes come on this song!” He said excitingly. “We need to dance!” He suggested.

You felt too comfy on the floor , your legs crossed you shook your head

“I’m Not…oh hey come on…” you mumbled .

He held his out “dance with me.”

You took his hand, in one almost effortless swift move he had got you to your feet , he pulled you in close.

The song changed and it happened to be one of your favourites , he leaned over and turned it up.

“You love this song…” he said with a giggle

Heaven by Chris Rea was one of your most cherished songs, you nodded as Aegon held you close and began to sway you slowly in rhythm to the music . You felt so at ease dancing together , Aegon dipped you - not taking your eyes off him , your arms looped around his neck as he brought you back up. His hands rested on your hips as the song started to slow, suddenly your foreheads were resting against each other

“This is nice…” he whispered

“Mmm…feels good…” you responded very quietly.

Your eyes met, the setting sun beams were unable to bridge a gap between you as you blinked once , Aegons head turned slightly and you felt his wine soaked lips met yours slowly but firmly. The sensation was tingling up your nerves, you opened your lips a little and felt his tongue crawl in your mouth- exploring every corner as your hands cupped his neck. You moaned at this touch, you wanted , no needed more. He squeezed your hips as the kiss deepened, you felt his hand move up to your hand and his fringes brush though your hair before settling it holding the back of your neck . Your tongues now battling for dominance - he also let out a slight moan as one of your hands palmed against his chest.

Reality pulled you both back slowly as the kiss broke, you looked at each other , lips mere inches apart. Still pressed against each other you whispered “Aegon…”

He nervously bit his lip briefly “Yeah…?” He replied just as quietly .

“I think…Tha…” the alcohol had got the better of you, your head started to spin as a result of the intoxicating elixirs and the rush of kissing Aegon. Your eye lids fell too heavy to stay awake, before you knew it you were drifting away into sleep.

He held onto you as you failed to stay awake ,

“Whoah Whoah steady.” He said with concern. Your head fell into the crook of his neck and he smiled warmly.

“Y\N? You okay?” He said as he shook you once gently to check if you were awake. He laughed once. He managed to walk you to your bed and gently lower you down, pulling the cover over you - before quickly fetching a bucket and placing it by your bedside table. He took one look at you and rested his fingers on his lips for s moment, before retreating to the door, leaving your room

But not taking his eyes off you as he left the door only open slightly. He made his way to the couch , collapsing onto it in a drunken haze, before finally letting his eyes close and drift off into slumber.

☀️

As you woke the next morning your head aches with a crunching headache that stung, you fluttered your eyes awake properly trying to piece together the evens of last night. You remembered talking to Jacob and then Aegon showing up…you slowly moved your hand up to your face, your fingers ghosted of your lips, you could still taste the bittersweet red wine on them…when you wet your lips with your tongue it hit you. You remembered …you kissed your best friend last night.

Chapter 2

TAGS

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[sinisterexaggerator]

Stars Above! | Cad Bane

Chapter 16

Explicit: Semi-slow burn, gratuitous smut /pwp, canon-typical violence, rough sexual elements, angst, Tatooine Slave Culture.

This chapter: Contains smut involving two tentacle-like Duros dicks. Blowjobs. PiV sex.

Word count: 4.9+

Notes: Hope you like weird, alien genitalia! Also, I headcanon it is Hondo Ohnaka who helped Bane regain his health and had a physician fit him for his metal plate. I am "borrowing" an OC made by @allsystemsblue, though she remains unnamed in this story and is mentioned only in passing. Mizu will be included in Annals of an Outlaw when the time comes!

[ Ao3 ] - [ Masterpost ]

《 Previous chapter ||

The bottle would suffice him, no need for a glass, he’d drink straight from the container held within his hand. Top shelf, dark, and biting on his tongue, the liquor went down, down in deep swallows, urged by smooth suprahyoid muscles. His mattress had been just as good a hiding spot as any, the pungent whiskey housed beneath its firm, yet springy shape—it had been stashed there for ease of access, as it often helped him to achieve a good night’s sleep.

Bane was no stranger to vivid dreams and nightmares. His past was colorful enough that he was prone to restless fits, accompanied by cognitive distortions—all those things he bore throughout the day would plague him when he drifted into REM. His mind only allowed for short, spasmodic bursts; he was on guard by default. In this day and age, there was hardly anyone left to trust except himself.

He had left his bed unmade, messy, and unkempt, though it was luxurious and soft, like that girl he had partaken of. He didn’t like it when the droid came in here, unless absolutely necessary. He feared he might misplace something important, or simply try to reorganize his things in a way that did not please him.

After a double shot, it all came flooding back: a deluge of unwelcomed memories. First Jango, and then Boba, never once able to rid himself of his past transgressions, as if they would haunt him until his dying day—whenever that might be.

But Zulara—she had been there, sometime after his ordeal at Jabba’s Palace, yet that was impossible—he had left her back at Slave Quarter’s Row before answering his summons. She was safe and sound, and far from him. It was as it should be, as he would not have her involved.

And Boba, this was all his fault. He could not remember what had happened after he had followed him out into the dunes. He only knew one thing—Todo had somehow rescued him, just like when young Fett had put a bolt into his head.

The Duros sighed; he understood it hurt to breathe, stepping to the single viewport that overlooked his ship’s right wing. He pressed his forehead to it, the transparisteel cool against his scales. He growled as he realized he would need to clean this too, as he had left a gluey imprint on the glass.

It was sundown. Bane lingered to get a good look at what lay beyond his window, no bigger than twice the size of his own face. He had lost more time than he had thought, people roaming to and fro as they prepared to close up shop, bought dinner, or talked amongst themselves.

He had picked this dock for the fact it was open and quite spacious; there was plenty of room to park his ship, and he had a bird’s eye view of the happenings down below. He had rented it from some other Duros, one he had come to trust, as whenever he visited this dry ball of dust, him and Ohwun De Maal did business.

A sharp ache flared just behind his brow ridge, extending up and beyond to where his scar resided; it was reminiscent of a bolt of lightning splintering, though it was pain instead of light that spiked. He grit his fangs until he thought he might crack them into pieces, for some reason the smiling mug of that damned Weequay overtaking his mind’s eye, as if he had a choice.

It had been Hondo who the droid had commed, anxious to help his master, who appeared to be on the verge of death after that ordeal involving Fett. Bane had more enemies than friends, but Ohnaka had been his droid’s first thought—a poor one, but it had saved his life.

Cad reminisced as he took a swig, the infernal pirate playing more than gracious host. He had answered to his every need, and beckoned his own doctor to patch him up. The tiny woman had been professional, her hands steady and her disposition sour—it was no matter, as she had done her job, and then some; it was unfortunate that Hondo had seen him vulnerable.

And yet the rapscallion had never mentioned this to anyone. For that he was quite thankful. Bane hated to think he owed him one, though Ohnaka did not seem to think so. At least that’s what could be concluded from the scoundrel’s lack of boasting, Cad often irked by Hondo’s potential to be a decent man—and for no good reason—what had he ever done for him? Why had he stepped up? The hunter refused to ask, harried every time that they crossed paths, though he was awfully good at hiding things.

Bane might threaten him, but he would never turn Ohnaka in, nor would he kill him, despite the thought having crossed his mind numerous times before.

Bane would set the bottle down; he had been out cold for a full rotation. Still, that was not time enough for him to forget just who the cause of all of this was—that lamebrained governess who had laid her claim to Tatooine, despite the slug-like Hutt’s overwhelming chokehold on its denizens. There was no doubt Cad Bane would call her; he had a mind to change the terms of their arrangement, but first he needed to wash and clothe himself.

Ignoring Todo’s bleating in the hall outside, the Duros was used to his mouthy droid complaining about every little thing. Why he put up with it was for him to know, but he knew better than to disturb Bane once he was in his room.

The aching hunter trailed the wall, finding the door to his refresher. His legs were wobbly; what a pathetic sight he must have been, Cad grateful that no one was around to see it.

---

Water, in abundance, could be heard, like rain falling to splatter on some planet that was unlike hers. It echoed, reaching her ears just beyond the door, Zulara’s mismatched eyes gleaming at the absorbing sight before them.

Bane’s room was homey, yet in a state of disarray. It was cozy, but disheveled. She had not known what to expect, though what she saw was somehow fitting, yet she could not help but think this was perhaps too intimate a place for her to be. Her nerves tingled; Zulara forced herself to move. She hadn’t made it this far just to stand there, though her heart thundered feverishly inside her chest.

There was a closet, holding a sparse amount of clothes. He had a hat collection, lined along the wall on metal hooks. His bed looked soft and comfortable, though the sheets, the blankets, were all tangled. He had a plethora of pillows, but there were things scattered amongst them—credits, coins, and gold medallions. They were on the floor, stuffed inside of drawers, some still stored in cases that were open, jutting out from varied crevices and corners.

Zulara had never seen so many pretty things, shiny jewels encrusted with more gold or silver—rare objects that looked like they belonged in a museum. There were little statuettes, baubles, trinkets—ticket stubs, bounty fobs, and books; they were old and made with flimsi; they had gilded spines and were in a language she had never seen. She desired to touch these things, but there was one thing she wanted more—the man himself.

She spied a mirror, and next to it a table with some personal effects; these items were all in order and arranged just so. She stopped to inspect herself, noting that she looked exhausted. How she was feeling was wrought indelibly into her expression, though she was easily distracted, as a single thing of his had caught her eye.

Before her was a small leather pouch; it had once been of a darker coloration, but now it was tawny and rough from years of use. Her thumb traced where it was worn and faded; etched on it were a few scant words. She could not read them, yet held inside were toothpicks.

The girl was tempted—she heard a noise, like the Duros had coughed or groaned—her heart fluttered. Zulara turned, making her way toward the refresher after setting the pouch back down.

She had softened her footsteps, unsure of when to announce her presence. It was clear that Cad Bane had temporarily lowered his defenses, as he had not yet detected her. She could not decide if this was good, or bad. She did not want to cause him any undue stress, yet her heart and brain were not communicating, as it was in her best interest to follow his droid’s advice.

Zulara’s index finger grazed the button to the sliding door; it was silent when she pressed it. The room was warm and steamy, the transparisteel before her partitioning him off from her. It was opaque, leaning toward obscure. The glass was frosted, the Duros nothing but a vague blue outline to her as she steeled her courage. Her hand lifted to knock, but then everything went wrong.

The bypass door had vanished—slipping backward—and so had her resolve. There was a flurry of sudden movements, Zulara discovering herself pinned flat against the refresher wall. Her throat had closed; there was a large hand obstructing her, Bane’s hulking fingers tightening as he cut off her air supply—he was choking her, she realized.

Zulara whimpered, as she could not speak. She kicked her feet, the hunter having lifted her some few centimeters off the floor. She gasped for air, then Bane loosed his hold; his bold red eyes were full of something. It wasn’t anger so much as remorse, but alongside that was an inkling of horror.

Bane did not speak to her as she inhaled deeply; she stared at him as her chest heaved and she tried to adjust her breathing—she would stiffen once again—the Duros’ fingers traced her windpipe, Zulara’s eyes agog as she dare not move. 

For that single moment, he had looked terrified—afraid he’d hurt her—but now his gaze had hardened. His lip pulled back to reveal pink gums; he bared his fangs. “Must nahtta heard when Ah told ye te go home.”

So, she hadn’t been a dream after all, he thought.

Zulara reflected on his words, that thing he’d whispered. Bane retreated back into the shower, the half-Twi rubbing her neck where it was sore, acknowledging that even in his weakened state he had tried to get rid of her.

For most, that would have been enough, but not Zulara, not like before. She knew he liked her. Though closed off to her and the rest of the galaxy at large, Bane was multifaceted, like an Ojomian onion with a myriad of layers, though just how many was unknown.

She appraised his body before he could shut her out; he had bruises over every inch of his lapis-colored scales. They were green like nephrite, just like his blood; it was still present on her top, though long since dried. Her eyes watered, though she would not cry for him—she had already done that. He was alive; he would be all right.

Then, an idea came to her, a bad one, but one she would entertain, her judgment poor and heart full of something akin to affection for him. Zulara tugged off her boots, followed by her simple garments; her shirt, her skin-tight, light-weight pants, leaving her just as naked as the Duros who kept his silence. His place was once more behind the single sliding door that barred him from having to look at her.

Did he expect her to leave? To exit his ship and not return? The girl was getting gutsier, taking a deep breath before she once more pressed the switch to give her access to where Bane quietly resided; his eyes ballooned into two elliptic ovals—he studied her—drinking in her buxom breasts and her admirable shape.

Zulara would do the same; her gaze traversed the lean muscles of his legs and thighs, taut and thin, with an abdomen that was refined though flat. His hips were streamlined, sleek, and well-nigh graceful; his ribs mildly protruded, Bane’s pectorals well-defined though they lacked mamilla as they were not present—Duros physiology was different in that regard, the girl inferred, not having seen him fully nude before.

The contours of his clavicles might as well have been hewn from marble, Bane all scales and sinews, his cheeks chiseled, and his jawline sculpted like some rugged work of art—she had seen his face already, yet she found him so oddly beautiful.

She knew to stare would be disrespectful—Zulara tried her best not to ogle him as he was injured, though she was highly inquisitive. Her eyes dropped to below his waistline—Bane’s genitals were covertly covered and nestled inside himself, unlike prior—he was bare but for a three-inch slit. She longed to hold him.

“It ain’t just yer eyes dhat don’t werk, it’s yer ears,” the Duros jeered.

Zulara would cursorily recover; she blatantly ignored him, feeling that what came out as bitterness was a mechanism used to defend himself, Bane’s acerbic tone not bothering her one bit—to others it might as well be acid.

Zulara’s face betrayed her, her worry for him, his dark contusions setting her brow to furrow inward in a show of pity with a total absence of tranquility. She felt disquieted to see him entirely disrobed—he had so many scars, so many scrapes and scratches—the claw marks of the rancor had raked him across one shoulder; it extended to the middle of his sternum. Would it scar too, she wondered? The thought displeased her to no end.

He seemed surprised to see her be so brave, not predicting this course of action, but the one thing he did not do was outright protest. Bane’s lack of a rebuke, to her, was an open invitation, Zulara taking one step up to join him. The halfling would tilt her head, letting the water flow down over her in rivulets, raven strands being tossed just over her shoulder’s edge; she had given him a look that thawed his heart, yet he refused to be enamored by her.

Zulara did the unthinkable once again; she touched him without his permission—yet hadn’t he done the same to her many times before?

Mauve digits freely roamed the length of Bane’s cool neck, tracing its long column to find the thrum beneath his pulse point.  It was for her own peace of mind, detecting that it was strong and hardy, perhaps the hunter’s heartbeat having minutely accelerated.

Zulara nuzzled him the best she could, just below the atrium of his right hearing organ; he had no auricles, only a small pinna-like protrusion, her warm breath licking cobalt flesh with her increasing closeness. “Let me stay,” she begged, the girl’s earnest marked by the imploring lilt of her sweet voice.

Cad Bane might as well be speechless, the girl’s breasts pressed flush up against him; she had whispered beguilingly, her plea alluring, if only for the way it had been administered. He was trying and failing to be upset; he would not reprimand her, yet she would also not receive his full encouragement.

Zulara did not need it, lithe fingers of the opposing hand rising to cup the back of his bare head. She stood on tiptoe to kiss him on his battered lips, the girl unable to help herself; she was inextricably drawn to him.

The man enjoyed this, though he would not return her kiss, instead surveying her with the intensity of a punctilious avian. An Edgehawk would come to mind, native to her home on Lothal, and just as deadly a predator as he could be, preying on small things.

Zulara began to shy away, variable hues of gold and blue skirting past his face down toward his throat and chest. Her hands found their own path, the tips of mammalian fingers warm and tender; he barely felt it as she traced one of his many fresh abrasions—the girl was as gentle as could be.

“I hate it,” she whispered to him—her touch—the stripe she feathered down past his stomach—it caused him to seize her wrist. Zulara gasped as he had startled her, the girl’s meager confidence shattering like Chandrilan glass that had been mishandled. She had no words, fearing what might befall her next.

Cad Bane kept his grip cinched around her arm, rough and weathered fingers tucking a few strands of her hair away behind her ear. Zulara would peer upward, the Duros guiding her to fully look at him by a tilt of her trembling chin.

He kissed her on his terms, soft, slow, and with a method that caused the girl to moan. He had barely touched her, but she was already beginning to come undone, as if he could put the blame on her.

Bane’s tongue joined in, wet and rosy pink; Zulara readily accepted it, hers hot and lush inside his mouth. He was careful of his cuspids—he did not wish to hurt her—the fangs that filled his maw were not entirely for show, as they could rend flesh from bone should he choose to do so. Zulara had learned of that firsthand during the time they had spent together, yet she had only suffered bite marks, the evidence clearly present by welts that blossomed. It was possible the hunter felt a mote compunctious, only due to one or two being a mite too deep.

The girl’s desperation was palpable, Bane feeding into it as it fed his ego. At the same time, his core enlivened; Bane’s body was self-lubricating, yet he did not feel that feeling that demanded he act on it. It was strange; sex was meant for one thing in his book: a way to get his rocks off, a way to clear his head before the next hunt began. And yet, this was different. This girl was different; she did not try to woo him, she simply did. He found this fact disturbing, knowing one day it might ruin him.

Bane could feel the rise and fall of her full bosom against his ribs. The ache was there, but it did not matter; he found himself absorbed by her enticing narrative.

The one where he was not all bad, but worthy of attention; the one where she was concerned for him. He allowed himself to be engrossed by the notion he was not such an awful man; it was too self-indulgent combined with the cocoon of her warm flesh; Zulara was hugging him again even as they kissed—he seized her throat once more, albeit gently.

Zulara would not flinch; Bane retreated from her lips to flash his teeth. The girl’s eyes would lock on his, bewildered, though transfixed.  Then, she felt it: the Duros’ cocks had slipped outside himself. He was toying with her, the spongy tip of one tentacular-like appendage having grazed her clit. It had inched its way between her folds; the girl would gasp, pleasure radiating from the place where he had touched her.

Bane’s depthless eyes narrowed; his fingers slightly tightened. Zulara would reach for his mouth again with hers; Bane held her steady, finding she now appeared alarmed.

“Dhis is what ye came fer, innit,” Cad Bane seethed, his cocks not hard but soft and cool, slick, and resembling the limbs of a cephalopod. It was the result of his subdued arousal; He packed prehensile tendrils instead of pricks as hard as bone. They only solidified when he was notably stimulated, and for now he wasn’t.

He would take care to thank her should she give him the right answer.

“I came for you,” the girl breathed out, tears welling in her two-toned eyes. She was distraught; Zulara could not fathom why he would presume to think that, though her mind began to overanalyze and search her feelings. She knew the truth; it was her worst fear coming to fruition: the idea she was just some cheap lay, another slave who would do anything for freedom. A girl who wanted to seduce him. A whore, for lack of a better word—perhaps he did not trust her or her words.

Zulara covered his hand with hers, grasping at his fingers. She plucked them free, like ripping off a necklace in a throe of passion, this set of actions a paroxysm on her part. Bane stared at her, though he relinquished his mindful hold, until he realized she meant to take her leave of him.

One arm scooped her back, extending to curl around her tapered waist. Zulara would set about to struggle, but even so, she was heedful of his wounds, his cuts and bruises—the rancor’s claw marks. Her tepid hands only pushed at his sore arms, but that was nothing compared to everything else that hurt, or the many other near fatal injuries he had endured throughout his lifetime.

“I’m not what you think I am,” Zulara pleaded, her words having a double meaning, though it was lost on him. “I only wished to help,” she would argue quietly, though her body settled, the girl’s head tipping forward so she could rest her nose against the Duros; he felt her balmy flesh make contact with his rostrum.

“Dhen what are ye,” came Cad’s raspy-voiced reply; he let her stay right where she was, though compelled to know her answer. He knew nothing of her, just that they had shared her bed; that she was Kayson’s slave; that Hondo vied for her affections, yet here she was in the refresher with him, naked.

“Just a girl—I’m no one special,” she lamented, “but one who hurts seeing you like this,” she added, one of her kindly hands moving to cradle his strong jaw where it met his chin. “I can’t force you to believe me,” she said, defeated.

Cad Bane was moved, though he would never easily admit it. He soaked her up, her honest sentiments and her unmatched beauty. He returned the gesture, the pad of his long thumb rubbing a small circle into the round of her soft cheek.

“Dhat’ll do,” he stated gruffly, his tone bordering nonchalance, yet it was a front; he would not make her aware of the effect she had on him.

The silence was filled with the sudden onset of Zulara’s disjointed moans, Bane had introduced one of his cock’s inside her. The motion had been smooth and fluid, his member pliant and able to inter itself snugly. It did not need an easy introduction, as Zulara’s plush insides would expand to accept his supple girth, Bane slick with his own secretions; he knew just where to target her.

His length would pulse inside her, like the writhing of a worm, languid, and patient with her. To Zulara it felt like the lapping of a tongue, impossibly large, and buried deep within her. She was a liquid, her legs desiring to fail her. Though Bane was not at his full strength, he kept her standing, taking the brunt of her slack weight.

“Easy,” he muttered low; the girl would search out his mouth again. In doing so, he was fed her gasps, Bane absorbing them like sustenance to fuel himself.

Zulara could not speak as Bane’s second cock licked her clit, its swirling tip fondling her with peculiar purpose. The girl’s brain filled with sporadic images—nothing clicked—she heard Bane rattle out a fricative hiss. She was coaxed by an open palm; Bane drew her toward his throat, reedy fingers entangling themselves in her black locks.

The Duros held her there, his oil sacs emitting an aroma that would only entice her more; they were fine slits beneath his ribs, and she had not noticed them before. They were camouflaged, blending in with the rest of his blue scales; he had nearly inked himself because of that damned rancor, their main function not one of pleasure but of defense.

“Breathe, hm?” he emphasized, his voice taking on a harsher shade. The girl obeyed, though it was difficult. She regained her footing, yet still needed his support.  

“Bane,” she uttered his name, but he would not go any faster; he would not let that persuade him. Cad was dutiful in his undulations, having already found that special place that made females forget themselves. He would prod it gently, coiling against the underside of her anterior.

It was too much, the syncopated rhythm of both his cocks. While one felt like it was eating her, the other viciously teased her, Zulara’s piteous moans and whimpers like music to his ears; he pressed her head against himself.

The girl relaxed into an orgasm, her warm heat clenching, Bane letting Zulara ride him until its completion, though he had not been in it for himself; he would withdraw as soon as she came down.

Bane would unhand her, freeing her of a rare embrace, the Twi falling gradually down onto both her shaky knees. Bane watched as she descended, not of her own volition; her legs simply would not allow her to keep standing anymore. Her hands trailed his stomach, his thighs and calves, until they dropped and rested in her lap as she breathed deeply, appearing to be starved of oxygen.

Zulara would cant her head, gazing up from the few square inches of space her body now occupied. Met face to face with Bane’s foreign genitalia, she would extend her tongue to taste the tip of one.

She could smell herself, and discern the flavor, yet not overpowering the Duros’ own brand. The sheen of sticky that coated both his cocks was both sweet and sour, and not by any means unpleasant.

Bane shuddered, finding his place along the wall; the girl did not stop there, his reaction the catalyst for what she would do next.

Zulara guided him inside, her mouth hot and textured like choice velvet. The girl found it easy to intake nearly the whole of him as he was not rigid, yet this introduction to the tight confines of her throat would not come without its consequences, should he not be able to keep himself in check.

She moaned, the hum vibrating against him from within her gullet; his belly quivered, Zulara allowing him deep passage—for a girl who had never done anything quite like this, she was adept, or effortlessly able to adapt.

Her lips would pucker as she sucked, Bane’s cock glossy, all the while thickening though frictionless, like candy made sleek from the constant roiling of one’s tongue across its surface. His other member mobilized itself, caressing Zulara’s cheek with its ability to touch and molest, like the curving of a finger as it followed a path down toward her chin.

In reality, it might seem monstrous, a thing that was hideous or atrocious to those not of his species, but Zulara was not disconcerted, nor was she intimidated. Bane’s anatomy did not so much frighten her as it was intriguing, assuming all males throughout the galaxy had their own way of being that she wasn’t privy to—the women too—enjoying what she could of him.

Zulara picked up the pace deliberately, one hand rising for its underside to palm Bane’s second phallus. She would run her fingers along the length of it—she was unbelievably delicate with him—it might have tickled had it not felt so delicious.

Bane could feel the telltale signs, the ones where his scales bristled, and his cock was on the verge of hardening; he was nearing the point of no return, forcing the girl to stop her suction; it was regrettable, but he knew himself. Though he would recuperate, currently his energy was depleted; he was tired, he desired to do nothing but relax, yet he had a call to make to that damn governess, and the hunter wished to hold onto his anger as it would serve him.

To allow himself release, to cum inside her pretty mouth—Bane knew nothing else would matter after that.

The Duros would withdraw his hips, pushing his buttocks to the wall of the now cold shower. This whole scenario had been a waste of water, but he would quickly forgive himself as Zulara was coerced to give up on her task. His cock had slid from out her throat, retreating back through her open mouth, the other slithering across her fingers joining its companion. The girl was frowning, her eyes two sorrowful, sparkling gemstones of varied chromaticity; she gazed at him like he had hurt her feelings.

“Did I do something wrong?” the halfling asked, her voice soft and peppered with notes of worry. Bane only stared at her as he allowed his breathing to even out; he swiped her bottom lip with the pad of a harsh thumb, dragging it slowly downward, exposing her bottom row of teeth and gums.

“Gotta comm te make,” he offered by way of an explanation. With that, he opened the bypass door, stepping past Zulara to touch down upon the refresher’s floor. Bane would leave her there to take care of herself, knowing that he could find her easily when he was ready— besides, Todo would keep an eye out.

[pisupsala]

One for The History Books [Chapter 20] [Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw]

[Summary] You are an archivist at the Pentagon, sent on assignment to TOPGUN to catalog and report on a top-secret mission. In the days under the Californian sun, a certain naval aviator puts your once orderly life in a tailspin that you might never recover from.

[Pairing] Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x fem!reader / Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x fem!oc

[Warnings] Mature content: swearing, (explicit) smut. 18+ only.

[Words] 4.3k

[Index] All Chapters | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19 | Chapter 20 | Chapter 21 | | Epilogue

[Library]

Chapter 20 - Reaching the shallows

It’s getting dark, and you haven’t moved from the spot in your living room yet. After you said goodbye to your sister, you just sat there, tears streaming down your face until you are pretty sure you have run out of tears for a lifetime.

Exhausted, you lay down, resting your heated skin on the cool floor, watching the light from coming from the window slowly die. 

Maybe you’ll just stay here. It’s as a good place as any you surmise. 

You don’t know what to do.

So you just wait.

It’s pitch dark in your apartment by the time you need to get up. Your hip and shoulder hurt, your mouth feels like it’s filled with cotton, and your stomach feels acrid. Getting up is like moving through molasses, every nerve and tendon aching.

The corners of your mind are getting snowed in again, making it hard to think. Not that you particularly want to think. You just want this not to be.

You drag yourself to bed, not even bothering to get changed. The moment your head hits your pillow, you can’t help but notice how your sheets smell of him. With the last semblance of your energy, you fling his shirt against the opposite wall. It flops down on the floor pathetically.

God-fucking-damnit, you can’t catch a break. Should you just sleep on the couch? That spot on the floor was pretty sweet too, actually. 

You groan. Jesus, you are not seriously getting chased out of your own bed by someone who isn’t even here. You blindly push Bradley’s pillow down the bed. There’s really no need for this now.

When your alarm wakes you on Monday morning, you don’t know what to make of having Bradley’s pillow wrapped in your arms, face pressed into the fabric.

Well, you are a sucker. But what else is new.

You try not to notice there’s no message from Bradley on your phone.

In the shower, you pettily push his body wash from the shelf. You watch it clatter on to the tiles at your feet, the water raining down onto the plastic loudly. Halfheartedly, you nudge the bottle away from the stream of water with your foot.

That did nothing for your mood.

You’re not even mad. Or maybe you are. You are definitely sad, right? You mostly feel kind of sick to your stomach.

Wrapping yourself up in a large towel, you wipe the condensation from the bathroom mirror. You haven’t really gotten a good look at yourself since yesterday. The bruise under your eye is undoubtedly darker than it was—a splotchy purple smear over the bottom part of your eye socket. 

Tears suddenly prickle in your eyes again. Bradley looked so scared. You’ve never felt so deeply attached to someone, while simultaneously having such a painful distance between each other.

“You don’t have time for this.” You tell your reflection sternly. Setting your mouth in a hard line, you start rummaging through your criminally underused make up bag. There is going to be some sort of concealer in there for sure.

It doesn’t look great. The darkest parts of the bruise still come through the makeup, looking vaguely like a smooshed blueberry. You shrug at yourself. It’ll have to do.

You have work to do. Last time - fucking last time, like Bradley just fucking off on a whim is a regular occurrence in your life now—your broken heart actually landed you in plenty hot water at work. None of that anymore. You’ll fuck up on your own time, thank you very much. Right now, you have a PhD to complete.

At work, you are pretty sure people have noticed the bruise, but mercifully no one comments on it. However, at lunch—the one you don’t eat because you feel like your stomach is getting strangled—your resolve breaks. Bradley has still not written you. Not a sign of life, let alone an apology.

You text Beth.

“Still nothing. Should I at least text hi?” 

The answer is immediate. 

“NO!!!!”

Sighing, you put your phone away. That many exclamation marks is pretty uncalled for. Yet, it doesn’t sit well with you—you want to talk to Bradley so badly. You want to fix this. Tell him you’re sorry. 

Maybe you’re just not cut out for power games like this.

Every time you check your phone during the day and there’s no message, a little part of you dies. Each time you feel like you’re taking a step closer to the edge of “this is really it, huh?”

You are not angry. 

You just feel like you have no more fight left in you. 

Last time, you at least tried to look for a way out of the raging snowstorm threatening to consume you. This time you elect to just sit it out. Plopped down in the middle of a snow bank, as the snow mounts higher and higher around you.

It’s as a good place as any.

On Tuesday night, you are in bed early. You are cuddled up to Bradley’s pillow, watching an endless stream of YouTube videos on your laptop to keep your mind from wandering any further towards the edge. You want to hold out hope.

Your phone buzzes.

You don’t need to look to see who it is. Your stomach twists painfully while your heart jumps. It can always only be him. Eyes closed, you sigh.

Almost, almost you don’t want to look. What if it’s bad news? What if he can’t forgive you?

Enough. You pull your phone out.

“lets talk” 

You wait. That’s it?

Well. At least he texted? You reply quickly: 

“Ok.”

Yeah. That could have been put a… nicer way. Good going. You watch the speech bubble and disappear. Should you…

You hesitate for a minute.

Your sister would be so disappointed, and maybe you’re just too much of fucking softie, but you cannot handle imagining Bradley struggle like this.

“Do you want to talk now?”

The moment you hit send, his message comes in.

“i miss you”  

Great. Now you feel like a complete asshole. You should have kept your mouth shut as per usual. Heart beating in your throat, truly hoping that this a positive sign, you reply.

“I miss you too.” 

“lets talk in person” The messages come in quick succession. “soon”

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The conversation between you and Bradley feels stale, like chewing through days old bread. At least you are talking again? You don’t really get beyond daily how are yous, good mornings and sleep wells, but you surmise it’s better than nothing. So far, he hasn’t clarified when he actually wants to talk. Your fingers are absolutely itching to ask and push him to make a choice. 

But you don’t. 

The message that receive late in the day on Thursday leaves you all the more surprised.

“can i leave some stuff at yours for safekeeping while i’m away?”

You can’t lie—your heart is jumping with joy. It’s not the apology you’re waiting for, it’s not even the start of the conversation you need to have, but damnit, Bradley has a knack for making you feel special.

“Sure. When are you coming by?”

“will tomorrow evening work for you?”

“Yeah, no problem.” 

You wait for Bradley to write you more, but no other messages come in. Your fingers hover over the keyboard, wanting to ask him so many things: will he be staying? Does he want to talk? What does he want you to keep safe for him?

In the end, you gracelessly drop your phone into your bag next to your desk. You’ll find out soon enough what the deal is. And it’s not like you had plans for Friday. Moping in private, maybe. Lots of YouTube. Not thinking about the state of your relationship, mostly.

Fuck.

These are going to be a long 24 hours.

When you finally return home from work on Friday, you are suddenly horrified by the absolute state of your apartment. The wineglasses have been on the coffee table a whole week now. Bed unmade, your laundry is piling out of the hamper, his shirt in the corner. Bradley’s body wash is still languishing in the corner of your shower. It’s like your entire apartment is grieving with you.

Ultimately, you don’t tidy up, nor get changed out of your work clothes. Whatever is going on in your apartment is your business and your business alone, you think tersely. Normally you would slip into some yoga pants or shorts to hang out, but somehow that feels too vulnerable. Your slacks and silk button up shirt are like an armor.  

It’s nearly seven when your doorbell rings. You had been pretty calm, you think, but now your blood is audibly rushing through your veins. With shaking hands, you buzz Bradley in. You go to open the door to your apartment, and you catch sight of Bradley walking up the stairs.

He’s looking down, carrying what looks like a cardboard storage box. You fling yourself against the wall of the hallway, feeling like the breath has been knocked out of you. He looks so cool and collected, and so, so good. The dark blue shirt straining over his upper arms, his curls lightly tousled after a long day. It pains you.

Wrapping your arms around yourself, you wait, heart almost beating out of your chest.

“Hi.” Bradley’s voice is careful. He’s standing in the door opening, somewhat awkwardly. You realize you are blocking the entrance.

“Hey.” You reply cautiously. You don’t know what you were expecting, but you can help but feel crestfallen. “Sorry, come in.” 

You move out of the way and walk towards the living room. You quickly look back, taking in Bradley as he walks behind you. He appears tired, his tan skin looking almost dull. He holds himself in that same effortless and confident style you would recognize anywhere, but you can feel the weight that is dragging him down behind the facade.

Not quite knowing what to do, you stand in the middle of the room, facing each other. Bradley gently put the box down. As he straightens back up, he finally gets a good look at you.

Your face is drawn, the bruise under your eye poorly concealed by fading make up. You have your arms crossed over your chest like you are trying to insulate yourself from the situation. It’s been long since he’s seen you in work clothes, so formal, like you’re putting up a wall. 

He wants to grab you, pull you against him in the way that always makes you squeal in delight and apologize a thousand time over until you stop looking at him with such pain in your eyes. But he also knows just an apology won’t cut it anymore. He dragged this out for too long.

As you stand there, you feel like a pot that is about to boil over. You desperately want to break the painful silence and close the cutting distance between you. Beth’s words keep ringing in your ears. If you do that, you’ll never be happy.

“I want to apologize-” Bradley starts.

“I’m sorry.” You blurt out that same moment, not being able to take it anymore. You both abruptly stop talking.

Pain.

“I interrupted you.” You shift awkwardly on your feet. “Please…” 

“Ah yeah…” Bradley replies softly. He takes a deep breath, hand flexing nervously at his side. “I want to apologize for everything I said last week.” He swallows dryly. “For walking out.”

You wait for him to continue, barely able to look at him.

“You deserve more than just an apology. You deserve me doing better…” Bradley trails off, voice vulnerable. “...I just hope you’re still willing me to give that chance.” 

Head down, you nod. Your eyes are trained firmly on the floor—you don’t want him to see the tears that have already started to form.

“I… I said some pretty awful things to you.” You reply, voice thick. “Not matter how angry I was, that was uncalled for. I’m sorry.” 

“I’m pretty sure I needed to hear those things.” 

“You walked out on me for it.” You can’t conceal the pain in your voice. “You disappeared again.” 

“I couldn’t handle it.” Bradley takes a shaky breath. “Because you were right. And I spent so long avoiding my past, the nightmares… that it seemed like the only thing I could do.”

You let out a long breath. 

“And next time?” It feels like you are purposefully driving a dagger into your own heart with those words. You don’t want to say it, but you need to know. “One day you’ll walk out for good. And that… terrifies me.”

“I -” Bradley falters. God, he wants to comfort you, but he can’t find the words and hesitates to cross the few feet, which feel like light years, between you. Your tears are flowing freely now; through your lashes, you see them drip down the front of your blouse. “I’ll stay with you as long as you’ll have me.”

“I want…” His voice breaks for a second. Balling his fist, he steels himself. He needs to spit it out already. “I want to there not to be a next time. But I can't—I need you. I can’t do this by myself.”   

Admitting it out loud to you finally gives Bradley the feeling that just a fraction of the weight on him might be lifting. There is seldom a prefect moment for anything. The only right time is right now.  

“The nightmares —,” Your head shoots up at the mention of it. Bradley’s heart clenches at your bloodshot eyes, but he averts his gaze. It’s now or never before he loses his nerve.

“They started after the mission. I dream I’m flying when all alarms start blaring. There’s a SAM incoming on my six. I’m out of flares- it’s so close, there’s no way to outmaneuver it. The moment I look back, I’m in a two-seater. For a split second, that replays over and over in my head-” He stops for a few seconds to calm his suddenly rapid breathing. 

“First I only ever saw Mav in that seat, yelling commands at me. Then there were more faces and voices, and they started to blur. I saw my father—he was silent…” His voice raspy now. He’s pretty sure he’s not crying, he hasn’t cried in years. “I guess because I can’t really remember his voice. Sometimes I heard my mother’s voice yelling my name, from when she was sickest and most scared.” 

Bradley is so focussed on trying to explain what he sees in his darkest moments, looking everywhere but you, feeling completely exposed, he doesn’t notice you appearing next to him.

Gently, you unfurl his balled fist and thread your fingers through his. He falls quiet for a moment, while you stand next to him silently. You are so shocked that you can’t even cry. So you just stand there together for a moment. Bradley closes his eyes, brows furrowed.

“And then…” He breathes in through his nose, squeezing your hand almost painfully. “Then I started seeing you. In a split second of terror, calling out to me before you get engulfed in the fireball along everyone else… and I put you there. Every single person.” His breathing is rapid.  

“And there’s not a fucking thing I can do to save you. And It’s my fault.” 

It feels like his entire body is covered in abrasions—like he tore off his skin to expose his more vulnerable self. He unclenches his hand, but you squeeze back. Wordlessly, you lean your cheek against Bradley’s shoulder, waiting for his breathing to calm down and fall in sync with yours.

“I’m sorry, Bradley.” You tell him softly. “I hate that you have to suffer like that.” 

“I’ve never told anyone before.” He replies, almost dazed. It feels so strange now it’s not a secret anymore. Strangely, he feels lighter. 

“Thank you for telling me.” You murmur. Truth is, you expected this would be something more than monsters under the bed, but hearing Bradley essentially tearing himself apart at the seams to tell you, makes you feel like the biggest asshole in the world. “I shouldn’t have pushed you to, though.” 

“No, you absolutely should have.” Bradley counters. “I’m pretty sure I would have let this eat me alive keeping it from you.”   

“Why?” The question falls from your lips almost automatically. But you suppose if this is the time to throw all the cards on the table, you might as well.

“Because I didn’t want you to leave me.” Bradley says it so matter-of-factly, it takes you aback. 

“Do—Jesus—do you truly think so poorly of me?” Your voice suddenly high. Looking up at Bradley, he finally meets your gaze.

“What? No.” He seems genuinely confused.

“You’d think I’d leave you at the first sign of trouble?” You’d actually feel offended, if you weren’t more panicked about Bradley apparently thinking you’d be that shallow. 

“Everyone else did.” Bradley reply is so soft, so heartbroken, it stops your thoughts dead in their tracks. 

“Oh Bradley…” You sigh. You’ve really put your foot in it. “I wouldn’t have fought like that if that was the case.” You search his eyes, and all you see is pain. “And I’m still here, still fighting.” You assure him.

“I can’t be the man you deserve.” Bradley suddenly admits. You blanch. “Not today, probably not tomorrow. I don’t know when I’ll get there. Hell, I don’t even know where to go from here. But I think I can get there with you by my side.”

You’ve truly never wanted to slap sense into him more than at that moment. Instead, you grab him by the collar with your free hand, forcing him to look at you.

“What the actual fuck are you talking about?” You bite out. Bradley’s eyes widen at your sudden mood change. “What I deserve? Forget that bullshit! Consider rather what I want, shit, consider what I need.”  

Your tear stained cheeks are flaming red from indignation. You launch in what can only be described as the patented Williams spitfire barrage, not letting Bradley get a word in edge ways before you are done and well satisfied he finally gets it through his pretty but thick fucking skull he wasn’t the only one who is deeply invested in this relationship.

“You think I’d still be around after practically losing you the first time after San Diego, two fucking deployments and then some, plus you walking out last week if I didn’t fucking love you?! If I didn’t get what I need from this relationship, from you?!” Your voice is resolute, steadily rising in volume. 

“Did you think I couldn’t handle you being a whole person, flaws and all? There’s a reason I was asking you to finally let me in. I want you to treat me as your equal, and fucking understand that watching you hurt, hurts me too.” 

You take a breath, as Bradley opens his mouth to say something. No. You are not done yet.

“If I couldn’t offer you even a fucking semblance of the support and comfort you give me, it would be me who doesn’t deserve you.” Bradley’s eyes are large, a red tinge graces to the top of his ears. The fire in you dims and your voice softens. “What I’m saying is… I’ll be with you every step of the way, but you have to let me.” 

Bradley heard your barrage, but his brain short circuits on every response. All he keeps circling back to you admitting you love him. He knows the words, but he can barely comprehend them.

You… love him? 

Last week he was so angry he didn’t pay much heed to your almost-slip-of-the-tongue, but this time it seemed so much more… real. Eyes blazing, swearing at him, in the heat of the moment—he really shouldn’t think it so hot, not matter how much he normally enjoys getting a rise out of you.

Your hand is still clasped around the collar of his t-shirt. You’re looking at him with those big shining eyes—challenging him to dare argue with you after that. 

He won’t.

Agonizingly slowly, almost cautiously as if he’s afraid he’ll scare you off, he bends his head over to yours. You don’t move, waiting for Bradley to complete the motion. Gently, he ghosts his lips over yours, waiting for you to respond. You let go of Bradley’s collar, splaying your hand over the wrinkled fabric on his chest instead before responding in kind, softly pressing your mouth against his. 

If a kiss can feel like coming home, then this it, Bradley surmises. 

Neither of you moves to deepen the kiss, simply content at sharing a deeply intimate moment while your breath mingles. 

There is nothing left to prove, it’s enough to just be.

You have no idea how long you stand like that, lips touching, fingers still intertwined. Bradley pulls away a fraction, just so he can see your face. 

“Just so we’re clear, I fucking love you too.” He murmurs softly, with a ghost of that trademark smirk tugging at his lips.

Oh Christ, you really blurted that out whole this time, didn’t you?

“You fucking better.” You counter, pursing your lips playfully, trying to ignore the furious blush spreading over your face.

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

You end up sitting on the floor together, leaning against the couch. Bradley’s arm wrapped around you, as you rest your head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. The silence that was tortuous before is soothing now. Just sitting there together, the orange light of dusk reflecting on the surrounding walls, you finally have some time to heal together.

Your stomach growls.

You shift uncomfortably. Fuck. Being an unfortunate subscriber to the heartbreak diet, you only had a bunch of coffee and a candy bar to tide you over today. Everything else tends to come out pretty quickly, as your stomach has been in absolute knots the whole week. Not that you’ll ever admit to that.

“Are you hungry?” Bradley asks softly, like he’s scared to break the comfortable atmosphere—like your stomach didn’t already do that.

“I should probably eat something.” You admit. “Did you eat?”

Bradley shakes his head. You know you have scarily little food in the house.

“Want to order pizza?” You smile up at him. “Like that first weekend?” 

A grin breaks out on Bradley’s face. A real one that reaches his eyes. It makes your heart beat faster when you see him like this. When he smiles like that at you. Because of you. 

Yeah, you completely blurted out you loved him without a second thought, but… how could you not? If felt so natural to say, you didn’t even beat an eyelash.

Hell, you refused to examine what on earth possessed you to almost tell him in the heat of your argument last week, because you really didn’t want to get into that kind of self-introspection hellhole while figuring out how to navigate the mess you made together. 

Loving Bradley was just another puzzle piece falling into place.

“Which one do you want?” You hold your phone up to his face.

“Hmm, you know what I like.” Bradley’s voice is too low, too smooth in your ear. You shudder involuntarily. “Get some beers too, darlin’.” 

You close your eyes for a moment. This man knows how to play you like a goddamn fiddle, and it’s so painfully obvious.

But you are also so hungry it’s almost making you dizzy.

Placing the order, you lean back against Bradley, settling back into the comfort of his arms. He presses a kiss against your hair.

“Bradley—babe, what’s in the box?” You ask, looking up at him. The cardboard box has been sitting in the middle of the room, right where Bradley placed it when he came in. You half-forgot that was his whole reason for coming, that he wanted you to hold on to something for him.

“Oh yeah- that’s…”  Bradley chuckles awkwardly.

“You don’t have to tell me.” You interrupt quickly, remembering your sister’s words: you dig in and don’t know how to stop the bleeding. “I shouldn’t pry.” 

“No, I brought it for that exact reason, actually.” Bradley admits lightly. “If there’s one person who would know what to do with it and that I trust completely, it would be you.” 

You blush, not knowing how to respond.

“I spoke to Mav in the past week.” Bradley starts. “Penny says hi, by the way.” 

You look at Bradley, eyebrows raised in surprise. Penny remembers who you are? And Bradley spoke to Mitchell…about you?

“And I guess…what we got to…,” Bradley contemplates his words from a moment. “I have a hard time talking about my past. It feels like it’s all overshadowed by my mom’s death, problems with Mav - like it infected everything that came before.” 

You regard him carefully. Bradley seems at ease, like he’s accepted that situation as fact.

“But…” You prompt him gently.

“But I’m the one who let it come to that. I just don’t know how to untangle all those strands, I’ve spent the better part of a decade trying desperately not to think about it. And now I forgot how to talk about it.” His voice sounds so neutral, it’s raising your hackles. The fact he talks about his past in a such a calm way when it’s causing him such pain only underpins that he probably, actually forgot how to not only talk about, but also how to feel about it. Anger is easy to play off, but grief lasts.

“And what is it you’re looking to do with it now?” You ask him, not unkindly. 

“I’m not sure.” Bradley admits. “I haven’t looked in that box since college.” 

He looks at you deeply, pressing you against him tightly.

“If I’m going to open it, I want to do it with you.” 

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[note] ok, so, I gave myself emotional damage writing this? It's weird, because I had been thinking about this chapter, the dialogue and everything for so long. And then when I sat down to write it, and it was fucking hard and hurt me in ways I honestly didn't anticipate? Hooray.

Anyway, good to know: the next chapter will be the last of the main story. I have an epilogue planned after that, and at least two side stories I really want to tell. So we're not totally done yet, but we're almost there. For now, happy holidays my sweethearts, and thank you for reading. <3

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[skynapple]

Budding Romance | Ch. 16

Love and Deepspace | Jeremiah x MC / slow-burn / friends-to-lovers | Themes: angst, guilt, fluff

warnings: none

Multi-chapter | A03 link

Beginning | <- Prev | Next ->

"Stalker" Tara wants to do some research.

Tara wasn't one for idleness. She enjoyed constant company, chatter, and  entertainment. Finding out her new best friend had a massive crush was a thrill that topped all the rest lately. Just what type of person was he? She determined in her mind to find out and learn more about him, just for safety sake. Although, her fellow huntress had conveniently refused to tell her the name of the flower shop. It took some investigation, but eventually she had narrowed it down to two options. The amount of male-owned floral shops were slim to none within an hour circumference.

Time to take a trip!

Early on a late-summer morning, she set out to hunt the man down. Her first stop was an ornate shop on the west side of Linkon, ‘the fancy district’ as she referred to it. Expensive florals swathed in brilliant silks and ornaments decorated the large place, known most greatly for its extravagant wedding arrangements. In short time, she had her answer. This was the wrong place -leaving one last location on her list, which was on the other side of town. The much smaller shop, “Philo,” had no website, no social media presence. It existed only as a blip in an old map and word-of-mouth.

Upon entering, she admired the florals and quaint aesthetic. To her shock, the man who appeared to greet her not the man her friend had described, but an all-too-familiar blonde headed, blue-eyed hunter, wearing a dark apron over casual clothes. 

“Oh! It's you!” She exclaimed, her cheery voice filling the whole shop.

For just a moment Tara wondered if somehow her thoughts were misplaced, now thinking, Does she actually have a crush on Xavier? Then she recalled the image she had been shown at their lunchtime exchange and shook off the thoughts.

"Xavier, is this your side job? Who knew!"

“Oh... no.” The man look a little awkwardly away, but smiled. It was different to see him not so 'standoffish' as people in the office liked to refer to him as. Though their fellow hunters regarded him highly, everyone knew how anti-social he was. “I'm just filling in for a friend today.” He finished.

“Really!! Oh, so is your friend the owner of this place? That’s cool! Where’s he at?”

He set the mister on a shelf and yawned. "He was tired today.”

She giggled. "Xavier, you're one to talk! You know your partner always tells me you pretty much sleep anywhere and everywhere, anytime you get!"

Before Xavier could respond to that, she gabbed on.

"So, are you getting paid? Must be nice! Oh my gosh, wait, she was right your eyelashes are totally blonde!"

"... What?"

Xavier shifted uncomfortably, hand reaching up to the back of his neck awkwardly. 

She couldn't read him really, just that he was awkward as usual. Once again, before he could say anything else, she interrupted any possibility of him getting a word in.

“Wait, can you help me then? I was going to get something here for our teammate, you-know-who. I was thinking something cute for her desk! Ah, your shared desk? Her side? I was thinking something small and pretty. Or maybe something large and elegant! Like a huge lily! Wait, should I wait for the owner to return? You wouldn't know would you? Do you know when he'll be back?"

Xavier couldn't take it. “Let me check the back and see if he's around…” He said, leaving in such haste he nearly knocked a large pot over.

While she waited, she shopped around, finally settling on what to get her colleague as an excuse to be in the shop. She has no idea what her friends’ crush could be up to. As her thoughts wondered, she heard a noise from the door leading to the back that startled her. Xavier emerged from behind the door, carrying the half limp form of another man. The sight made her gasp softly. Honey brown curls. That had to be him - and he was passed out.

"Oh no! Is that your friend? Is he ok? Is he drunk??"

"Can you get the door?"

Placement-wise, he was her superior and sort of a legend, she didn't bother to question him when given a command.

"Do you need help? Are you sure he doesn't need first aid?" She said. It secretly occurred to her to text her friend, but only after making sure the man was ok.

"Actually..." Xavier started, glancing behind him and adjusting the man's arm over his, then flinging his whole limp body over his shoulder. "Can you lock up? I need to take him home. I think his keys are..." He fished around the mans pocket with a free hand with some effort and handed it to her.

"O-Of course! But...if these are his keys, then how will you-?" 

"His spare. Sorry, I'll see you."

Tara felt the wind rush through her short strands and Xavier was gone with a flash of light and a gust of wind. Having received no other explanation, she was left alone, dumbfounded, with only instructions. She figured out how to switch the lighted "open" sign off, and fumbled through the sets of keys until finding the one that worked. It felt strange to hold a physical key, she wasn't sure if she'd actually ever used one before. It felt a little fun and retro.

When she was sure the door was secure, she picked up her mobile device and contacted her friend.

---

"Whathappened?" Her fellow huntress and best friend asked, sliding into the booth at the cafe they agreed to meet at. As Tara relayed the events of the morning, her hands rose to her mouth, a pensive expression as she sat incredulously.

There were many things she couldn't wrap her head around, from the fact that Tara went through the trouble of finding out where her crush worked, and then the fact that Xavier was there helping, and finally that Jeremiah was not in good condition.

"I don't know! At first Xavier said that the owner was out, and then that he was in the back, and then he didn't really say anything! He did not look good let me tell you. I'm kind of worried myself.”

It hadn't exactly been a good first impression, but she was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. She thought if Xavier was handling it, then it should be fine. Although, it was her friend’s crush, and if she had an opportunity to find out more about him, even if it was information that might encourage her friend not to pursue him, then she figured it was better to let things happen that way. After all, her cards that morning had told her so.

Tara placed a rather old-fashioned-looking set of keys in front of them on the table they were seated at. Gingerly, her friend picked it up and ran a thumb over the leather strap holding the keys together. It had his name engraved on it.

"I'll make sure I get it to him. Thank you, Tara."

[withoutyouimsaskia]

Remember Me, Special Dreams

Part VI.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22 | Part 23 | Part 24 | Part 25

GIF: Originally posted by​ @maeroria​

Summary: Self-insert. You're having trouble with recurring night terrors and Morpheus pays you a visit. (Title from the lyrics of Placebo’s Special Needs)

Warnings: language, angst, mentions of night terrors.

Word Count: 1.3k

A/N: Hello there, hope you are all doing well. Warning: this chapter is about to get dark. A lot of the scenarios described are recreations of some of my worst recurring nightmares, or inspired by them.

Sandman Masterlist

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

The nightmare begins with a passive tableau.

The image of a supermarket sprawls before you.

The aisles are so tall that their tops are impossible to see. They are stacked with bland cardboard containers. No labels are present give a clue to their contents. Trolleys are dotted around, stacked with the beige and brown cuboids.

The scene starts to move as people mill around beside you.

As always in nightmares of this ilk, the people do not have faces. They just exist, like props and furniture on a stage.

The cheery bing-bong of the tannoy sounds.

Your name is called in a sinister tone.

You freeze in place.

"After all this time, I can’t believe this is finally happening. I cannot wait to meet you. We’re going to have so much fun together, you and I.”

You are suddenly running.

Skipping through the crowd with the precision of a ballroom dancer. Avoiding inanimate obstacles like a boxer dodging red gloved swings. 

After a few directional changes, you realise that the aisles lead into each other and create a maze-like series of paths. Yet your dream avatar seems to know where it is that you need to go.

You round a corner; the entrance looms no further than 100 metres from you.

A group of intimidating looking people guard the exit.

You manage to retreat without being noticed. There’s a gap in the shelving that is big enough to conceal yourself in while you desperately try to formulate a plan. You swing yourself under the metal shelf.

The tannoy tune sounds again.

“Oh dear, Y/N. Did you really think that would actually work? I see everything.”

You chance a peek out of your hiding place. The red light of a security camera glares at you. This place is completely covered with surveillance. There is no amount of running or hiding that would help you here.

All you know is that you must avoid capture at all costs.

It takes all of five seconds for you to make a decision. You need to get out the building.

You’re climbing the shelves like a ladder.

When you reach the top, you back up as far as you can go and sink into a crouch.

You start to run again, propelling yourself with everything you have and just before you reach the edge, you spread your arms out wide.

Your superpowers kick in and you are flying.

Air hits your face as you sharply aim towards the space just above the heads of the guards.

You swoop straight over them, retract your arms and land with a perfectly timed forward roll.

A few more running steps and you are throwing yourself through the gaping hole that is the exit.

The familiar hallway of your house fills your vision field.

You sigh in relief. You are safe.

The roar of an engine startles you.

Through the peephole in the wooden door, you see a red car. A man sits behind the wheel. He is looking right at your porch.

He gets out the vehicle. He is holding a large knife in his right hand. It sparkles in the blazing sunlight.

“Shit!” You curse quietly, going to ensure that the lock is engaged.

As soon as you touch the handle, the door unexpectedly moves outwards a couple of centimetres.

You pull it back and try to shut it once more. The same thing happens again.

You are confused.

The door is slipping past the frame that should secure it. No matter how hard you try, you can’t get a purchase.

The person has reached the top of the path that leads to your front door.

Bewilderment gives way to fear. You try again and again and again.

He’s on your doormat.

You resort to holding the door still, hoping that the frame will come back into existence.

A well placed kick sends you cowering.

He's in the house. The knife is held aloft.

You know he means to kill you.

You flee, taking the steps of your wooden staircase two at a time.

Then, you’re in your bedroom. The man isn't far behind you.

An open window beckons to you.

You’re clambering up onto the little ledge, looking down at the grass and bushes below.

The man is a footstep away from you.

There’s no choice but to jump and so you do.

You fall.

An icy cold embrace of water consumes you.

It submerges you entirely. Instinctively, you lunge for the surface.

You’re thrashing, panicking, drowning.

Oxygen somehow fills your lungs.

You’re on a pebble covered shore. 

You push yourself onto your hands and knees.  The rocks dig painfully into your flesh.

A pair of familiar brown leather shoes come into view.

Anxiety pools in your gut.

You know exactly who is standing in front of you.

With much hesitancy, you sit up on your haunches and look up into the pained face of your ex.

Tears glisten in their brown eyes, just like they had on the day they had moved out.

After you made them move out.

“What did I do to make you want to hurt me, Y/N?”

“Nothing. You did nothing... I never wanted to hurt you.”

Rage flares their nostrils and narrows their eyes.

“Then why did you do it!?”

The words, combined with their towering presence are terrifying.

You’re stuttering, unable to reply.

You can’t help but notice how the semantics of the conversation is directly mirrored by your physical stances.

You are supposed to feel diminutive.

They speak again.

“There’s something wrong with you. Everyone warned me and I never listened. But I see you for what you really are now, you’re a fucking plague.”

As soon as they finish the sentence, you detect an instantaneous change in the environment around you.

The sky and lake turn a gunmetal grey. Not from a sudden appearance of clouds but because the colour literally drains from it. You watch it happen with disturbed eyes. It leaches from top to bottom, like a keg being emptied of alcohol.

You look back to your ex. Greyscale is taking over every part of their being.

Your hands claw into the ground in fear.

Before you know it, the colours are leaking away out of your sodden clothes. Out of you.

That’s when the tremors start.

You scrabble to your feet.

As you reach your full height, there is a surge of power that threatens to knock you backwards onto your posterior.

You somehow manage to remain on two feet, feeling every inch of the rumbling earth through your thin-soled shoes.

The edges of your vision field wobble with claustrophobic darkness. It encroaches rapidly and soon all you can see is the face of the person whose heart you so callously destroyed.

At this point, it is near impossible to keep your balance.

The darkness pushes in further; you feel like you are being stuffed into a box that is ten sizes too small.

You want to fight back, scream, resist.

Something.

Anything.

The words of their next taunt are like a bucket of ice cubes poured down your collar.

“I hope you burn in hell.”

You come to with a jolt.

You’re curled in on yourself defensively. Sweat and tears have moistened much of your skin.

You roll onto your back and open your eyes.

Someone is standing over you.

You don’t need to turn on the light to know who it is.

It’s your ex.

“W-what are you doing, how did you get in here?” You ask fearfully.

“I said I wanted you to burn in hell. I’ve decided I’m going to send you there myself.”

You begin to scream as their hands reach for your neck.

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

"Am I mistaken, or are we breaking under weight from the long time that he played God?"

Taglist: @pinkcyclewitch @layla2-49 @shoidy-cat @silverhart93 @boofy1998 @dotieeee  

[withlovewriting]

Mixed Drinks and Smoke Rings 16: Did You Get Enough Love, My Little Dove?

Chapter Sixteen: Did You Get Enough Love, My Little Dove

You are broken on the floor, And you’re crying, crying, He has done this all before, But you’re lying, lying, To yourself, that he’ll find help, That he will change to someone else, But you’re broken on the floor, Still asking him for more

Summary: New to town, you didn’t need a friend, you needed a dealer. Thankfully, a girl from your Narcotics Anonymous meetings knew just the guy.

Characters: Fezco (euphoria) x Non-descriptive Reader

Words: 4,376

Chapter Warnings: Drug use, abusive relationships, physical violence, Nate is a dick as always, Ash is a gorgey hun. This is also a lil late bc I’ve just finished writing it >_> so pls let me know of any errors etc

Series Warnings: Addiction, sexual themes, cursing, abuse (various), smut, drug use, teenagers being fucking idiots. 18+ only, minors DNI

Previous Chapter:

Next Chapter:

Masterlist

taglist: @iamasimpingh0e​ @chelseagirl77​ @zeida​ @thepawn1999​ @alanis-altair​ @purplebtsmagic​

"Wow, you look fucking awful."

A shiver ran down your spine, recognizing the voice right away. Talk about life kicking you whilst you were down.

Deciding it was best to just ignore him, you pushed the small cart into the next aisle, hoping he would get the hint.

Hope, however, breeds eternal misery, proven as Nate followed you at a leisurely pace, "Hm, never taught manners at that private school, huh?"

Taking your time to look through a few different items, you only replied once you'd found the right package, "What do you want, Jacobs?"

"Ah, she does speak," he chuckled, finding himself much too humorous for your liking, "little late for shopping, might be hard to get what you need."

Watching as you struggled to reach the top shelf, Nate placed one hand on your hip as he leaned over you to easily grab it. You had to physically stop yourself from darting away from him as his chest pushed into your back, knowing it would only feed into his fucked up ego.

Throwing the item in your cart, he continued to follow you, never further than a few feet.

Making your way down the final aisle, you could feel the last of your nerves snap. Turning suddenly, your anger overcame the fear you felt as Nate entered your personal space, "What do you want, Nate?"

The smile he sent you was nothing but malicious, causing you to back up into your cart. 

His eyes raked over the shelf before grabbing a bag of candy. Stepping even further into your space, his eyes traced dropped to your throat, watching as you forcefully swallowed the lump in your throat. 

Placing one hand on the cart handle, he threw the candy over your head and into the cart before placing his other hand on the handle, essentially trapping you between both.

"Gotta treat yourself every now and then, right?" His lips pulled up at one side, and you found yourself focusing on the dimple that formed on his cheek, hoping that if you avoided his dark eyes, you'd come out of this conversation fairly unscathed.

The sudden movement of his eyes darting up piqued your interest, and your brow furrowed as you turned your head, unsure of what caught his attention when a smug smile settled across his face. 

Peaking over your shoulder, you spotted his familiar blue eyes and ginger beard before you even really registered it was him.

His face remained stoic as his eyes bore into Nate's, but the clench of his jaw gave him away. The pain from your last conversation with him was still raw, but at that moment, you couldn't hide the guilt that swirled around your veins as his eyes fell on you. Shaking his head slightly, he turned, making his way out of the aisle.

You couldn't tear your eyes away from where he had stood, mouth still trying to form some kind of sentence. Nate's huffed laughter pulled you out of the trance, causing you to snap your head back around, lip curled as you shoved his chest, pushing him away from you, "What the fuck is your problem, Jacobs? I get that you're a fucking psychopath, but can you at least take the holidays off."

Crossing his arms over his chest, you wanted nothing more than to smack the stupid, smug expression from his face, "What? Trouble in paradise? That's nothing to do with me."

He might've been right, but you damn well knew Nate thrived off your downfall.

Grinding your teeth, you watched him approach you once again -- keeping his distance in case you did decide to swing at him -- the once gloating expression transforming into one of curiosity as he cocked his head, "I guess I was right. As soon as he didn't have shit to give you, you'd run off and find someone else. You know, I'm almost disappointed by your predictability."

"You're a piece of shit, Nate. And one day, someone's gonna put you in your place, and I can only pray that I'm there to witness it."

Making your way out of the store once you'd paid for everything, you could only be grateful when you didn't see Nate's black truck in the parking lot. Reaching into the bag, you pulled out the bag of candy he'd thrown in and dumped it in the trashcan before walking toward your father's car.

Fuck Nate Jacobs.

You sat in the parking lot, waiting for Rue. She was sitting in a small restaurant with Ali, no doubt on the receiving end of one of his lectures. You didn't even try to hide the fact you were glad it was anyone other than you stuck in there with him.

You'd ignored his phone calls since he'd last spoken to you at the church, refusing to allow him to see that your drug habit had only exacerbated and that he was right in his assumptions.

Tapping your thumbs against the steering wheel as a song quietly played in the background, you could only hope she'd hurry up and leave, so you could chase your next high.

You were heading to Fez's apartment the following morning, presuming Ash's invitation still stood, and no amount of breathing techniques would calm your nerves.

Crushing up and snorting a couple of pills just might, though.

Your thumbs stopped their rhythm as soon as you eyes met Ali's dark ones, a flash of concern before he returned his attention to Rue. Your leg bounced as you watched them walk out together, pretending you didn't see Ali's small wave in your direction. Instead, you focused on Rue who was now climbing into the car,

"Everything good?"

Rue nodded, and you could tell she was already high. It worried you that Rue remained somber, but you didn't want to pry. Rue was the only consistent person you currently had in your life, and you were frightened that even she might ditch you. It felt inevitable, so you decided to do whatever you could to delay it.

"You got plans for tomorrow?" She only spoke up once you were both sitting cross-legged on your bed, watching as you took a long toke of a joint.

Taking a moment, you slowly exhaled, letting the smoke fill the room, "We haven't really celebrated the holidays since Mom left, but uh... Ash invited me 'round for dinner so... I dunno. Maybe I shouldn't go."

Rue's interest was piqued, her eyes narrow as she watched you, "Why wouldn't you go? I get you and Fez aren't speaking but hasn't that kinda gone on long enough?"

You remained quiet, biting your cuticles as Rue took the joint.

"He said some pretty fucked up things, Rue."

Keeping her eyes closed, Rue shrugged, "Was it enough to end your entire friendship over?"

"Would you be able to go back to how things were if Jules came back?"

It was a low blow, you knew as soon as you watched Rue's brow wrinkled slightly. But you were genuinely curious. 

Rue's eyes opened as her tongue darted over her lips, nose crinkling slightly, "Fez's weed was much better than this... Uh, Jules. Shit, yeah, I guess. I mean, I'm kinda the one who bailed on her-"

"For good reason," you interrupted, taking the joint from her and placing it onto the small rolling tray next to your bed, "You made the right choice, Rue."

Sighing, she chewed her bottom lip for a moment, "What, staying here and relapsing?"

"She told you she was in love with another person, Rue. It was fucked up to even think you'd be OK there."

Tilting her head downwards, Rue plucked at a loose thread on your bedding, "She said she loved me too."

Laying yourself back, you felt the bed shift slightly as Rue joined you, "Do you think you can love two people at once?"

Staring at the ceiling, you shrugged, "I don't know, Rue. I'm too high."

You were standing outside of Fez's apartment, bouncing on the spot. You were yet to knock, but knowing the boys had security cameras, you were sure they were already aware of your presence.

Your father was still fast asleep when you'd left, his loud snores could be heard down the hall, and you knew he must've been heavily drinking the night before, since he returned long after you'd already dropped Rue home.

You felt stupid, you really did. You'd been stood outside for what was easily 5 minutes, deciding whether you would even be welcome, or if Fez might slam the door in your face. At this point, you weren't sure if he was mad at you, or you were mad at him.

It seemed Ash -- who had been watching you pace on the camera -- decided for you, finally losing his patience and opening the door. Ignoring your wide-eyed stare, he grabbed the bags from your hands and began to make his way to the kitchen, leaving the door open for you, "Took your damn time."

Shaking your head, you were quick on his heels, deciding that if you remained with Ash, maybe the day wouldn't be too awkward.

Helping to unpack, Ash's face lit up with every item he pulled from it. You decided that you'd do this, if for no one else, for Ash. He deserved a good Christmas. So trying your best to ignore any hard feelings, you joined in, practically forcing him to wash his hands before he was allowed to help.

"Hey Ash, I- oh. Hey. I didn't know you were here." Fez's face was soft as he watched you from the doorway, fussing with his polo’s collar nervously. His freckled cheeks were dusted pink as he finally approached you slowly. Ash -- who was clearly aware of the tension -- decided to ignore it, and instead made his way to the bathroom to wash his hands.

"I wasn't sure if you were gonna come or not..."

Returning your attention to the turkey joint you'd picked up, "I wasn't really sure if the invitation still stood."

"You always welcome here," Fez's voice was soft, and you could already feel the look he was most likely giving the back of your head.

You both remained quiet once Ash rejoined, happy to help with the preparation whilst Fez tried his best to keep out of your way, choosing to stand in the kitchen entrance way and watch from afar.

Between yourself and Ash, dinner had been a success. The apartment remained fire-free, and so far, none of you had any signs of food poisoning. 

You'd told the boy to find a film to watch whilst you cleared away the dishes, knowing he was far too sleepy after filling his stomach to help.

"Thank you for this. I mean, I try but... Shit ain't really the same as a big family dinner. We don't usually make a fuss."

Fez made his way to stand next to you, grabbing a dish towel from the side to begin drying the plates.

"Yeah, well... He deserves it."

Nodding, Fez remained quiet for a moment as he tried his best to get his thoughts in order. The silence, however, made you nervous.

"About yesterday, at the store..." He began, keeping his voice monotone but unable to hide the irritation that was blazing in his eyes.

Presuming that his annoyance was aimed at you, you dropped a plate a little too harshly back into the sink, "It really wasn't what it looked like-"

"Is he still bothering you?" 

Sighing, you placed the cloth back into the water and turned to face him, "No, not really. Not since the formal."

He winced at the memory, something he had been kicking himself over, and mumbled, "I'll kill him."

"That's not really necessary, Fez. Just drop it."

You shuddered, the images of Mouse's stony, lifeless eyes staring back into yours was burned into your memory, your white formal dress thrown in the garbage as soon as you got home.

His motions stopped, hands and towel frozen in the air before he whizzed around at you, "Winter formal? What did he say to you?"

"It's nothing, alright? There's no point dragging it up now-"

"Ma, c'mon."

Losing your patience, you poked a finger into his collarbone, "No, Fez. You were right, we aren't dating and somethings are just none of our business. This is one of them, so drop it."

Storming off toward the couch, you halted, spotting a sleeping Ash, sprawled out, a soft snore escaping him. Although he was in his teens, he looked like a small child, fed, happy and healthy. He'd obviously fell asleep whilst channel surfing, the remote still in his clasped hand. 

Throwing it onto the small chair, you grabbed the knitted blanket from the other couch and placed it over him, leaving with a soft kiss to his forehead.

Fez watched you in silence with downcast eyes as you collected your things. Lifting a bag that you'd left by the door, you made your way back to him, "Make sure he gets this."

He wanted to stop you from leaving. Tell you that he never meant any of what he'd said, that he was an asshole. Ash had told him that enough to know he was in the wrong, but as he glanced down at his almost healed knuckles he decided it was safer to just let you leave.

Like Nate said, you would eventually, anyway.

Driving home, you rang Rue and had planned to pick her up before heading home and grabbing some pills before staying the night at hers since she lived closer to Fez than you did.

Pulling up outside your house, you could hear the rumble of the stereo which meant your father was home and most likely blindly drunk. 

When Rue unbuckled her seat belt, you quickly reassured her that you'd be quick, and for her to wait outside.

Unlocking the door, the pounding music was already giving you a headache. Glass crunched under your feet as you cautiously wandered into the house, wanting to just get what you needed and leave.

Turning off the music, you kicked a few bottles of beer out of your way, a deep frown etched in your forehead, pulling your brows together.

Unable to locate him, you made your way upstairs two at a time as you felt panic flood your veins.

A loud smash was heard from behind your bedroom door, causing you to flinch backward, hitting the wall behind you. He was alive, at least.

"Dad?" You spoke softly, sweaty palms twisting the door handle before entering what could only be described as a bomb site.

He was sat at the end of your bed, the photo you had of yourself and your mother in his hands, leaving blood smears over the glass.

"She left."

His voice was full of despair, luring you into a false sense of security. Standing in front of him, you placed a reassuring hand onto his shoulder, "I know. I'm sorry."

His doleful demeanor transformed into one of belligerent anger, as if he was only just aware of your presence. Slapping your hand away, his lip curled as he looked back to the photograph, "She left, and you still have this."

You could feet the sweat congregate along your hairline, your heart beating as fast as a hummingbirds. The hair on the back of your neck stood up, and you knew -- deep down -- you needed to leave. This wouldn't end well, but you felt glued to the spot, watching as his apoplectic eyes turned toward you,

"She left. She left because she had such a fuck-up of a daughter. You were too difficult, acting like your shit didn't smell, mouthing back, hanging around with those fuckin idiots-"

"She left you, too." The words slipped out before you knew you were even saying them. Sure, you and your mothers relationship was strained the past few years, but even you knew that wasn't the only reason, "She left her fuck-up of a husband who spent most of his time drinking away any money we had. She didn't love you, either-"

Before you could finish, you felt him strike you, the noise echoing around the room as your head jerked to the side. Holding your face, you turned back to him, tears brimming in your eyes. 

He stood, swaying a little from intoxication as he towered over you, forcing you back a few steps as he pushed his chest into yours, "She did love me, you little bitch. Do you know how happy we were before you came along? shit, she didn’t even fucking want kids. This is your fault. This is all your fault. Why do you think I started fucking drinking? I couldn't stand to be around you, either. She was just fucking sneaky and left before I could."

His left hand grabbed your face, causing your tears to fall, "You're the fuck up. You." He shoved you back, and you couldn't hold in the cry when your body connected to your bedroom window, your head bounding off it slightly. You were just thankful that it didn't crack.

He began screaming again, running his hands through his hair before picking up the photo frame again, giving it one last look before throwing it into your direction.

Rue twiddled her thumbs as she waited for you to come back. She couldn't deny that your demeanor was odd once you'd arrived, noting her father -- who she had yet to meet -- must be home. She could hear the music faintly from where she sat with the window rolled down as she puffed away on a cigarette.

She checked her phone, throwing her head back in annoyance when she'd realized you'd been gone much longer than anticipated. Calling your number, she all but threw her phone onto the drivers seat when it just continued to ring.

A loud smash caused her to quickly sit up, staring into your bedroom window as she wanted your shadow. The window was smashed, and something led on the lawn. Worried, curious, and against her better judgement, Rue made her way out of the car, listening as she heard shouting from above her. 

Picking up the frame, she noted a woman who looked like an older version of yourself, a taught smile on her face as if she'd rather be anywhere else. A muffled scream from above gained her attention, and she quickly made her way to the front door, banging on it loudly in hopes you'd hear.

More smashing could be heard, and what sounded like a body being thrown around before Rue raced back to the car, grabbing her phone from the seat and calling the only person she thought of,

"Fez? I need your help."

Shoving her phone into her back pocket, Rue couldn't remove her eyes from your window, the loud crashing sounds blended with the shouts of your father as she panicked, trying to think of how to help. It wouldn't take Fez long to get there, but what would happen in those 10 minutes? Maybe it wasn't your father upstairs, and you were in serious danger.

Deciding she couldn't just hang about, Rue made her way around the side of the house, looking for the unlock-able window that they'd used many times as kids to sneak into the house. Pushing it open, she took in the surroundings before climbing through. The small table in the kitchen was overturned and missing a leg, the wood splintered across the floor that was covered in smashed glasses and plates. A coffee machine was clearly pulled from the socket and thrown across the room, coffee pooling underneath it and filling the air.

A thump from above had her grasping for her phone, deciding she couldn't wait any longer. Her adrenaline was pumping, and her anxiety was at an all time high as she dialed the 3 digit number, not having to wait for more than three rings as she was connected to an operator.

She could hear a scramble, your tired cries begging and pleading for someone to stop, and Rue shivered as she heard the sound of fists connecting to a body.

Rushing through the demolished living room and almost slipping on some broken glass, she heard a commotion at the top of the stairs. Shouting your name, she hoped it was enough to draw the attention away from your attacker. 

Before she could reach the hallway, she heard a sound that made her blood run cold. A strangled cry as your head hit the drywall, before you fell head first down the stairs.

She rushed around the corner, finding you on the floor, face bloodied and unusually still.

Her chest was heaving, and she swore her soul left her body the moment her dark eyes connected with a pair at the top of the stairs, his shirt and face smeared in blood, scratches marking his arms as his frenzied stare zoned in on Rue. 

As soon as his foot hit the top step, ready to descend down them, Rue turned and struggled with the door, panting so loud she could barely hear the sirens.

Finally able to open the door, she swung it open and tripped over herself, her knees hitting the floor just as the officers ran past her, guns drawn and screaming instructions at the man.

Fez pulled her up, holding her close as her body shook, "She's... I... Shit, Fez. Someone's in there."

Fez had only just arrived, not even turning off his engine before rushing from the car, gun tucked into the band of his trousers when the police pulled up, sirens blaring.

He moved Rue to the side, ready to rush into the house when an officer pushed him back. He could just about see your body crumpled on the floor, an officer stirring you as another struggled with someone upstairs.

Moving onto the lawn with Rue, they both watched in silence as a man was dragged from the house in handcuffs, with what was most likely your blood covering him.

"It's her dad." Fez bristled. 

Rue watched in shock as the man struggled against officers, clearly drunk as he continued to stumble and curse. 

Another commotion was heard from the house, and Fez had to force himself to stay where he was as he saw your limping, bloodied form push an officer away from you, crying out for your father. This time, Rue noted you were begging the officers.

She knew there were abusive parents, of course there fucking was. The universe wasn't full of rainbows and unicorns that farted glitter, and sure she knew your home-life wasn't the best, but shit... who's was?

But this? It kinda made sense, and Rue couldn't help but blame herself for not working it out sooner. The bruises you'd tried to hide in school, not wanting to go home... Shit.

She knew damn well she had the best father in the world, and to think that someone who was supposed to love you unconditionally had done this to you, clearly more than once, made her feel sick.

She watched as you struggled, trying to push your way through the police officers, hitting at their chest as your wails for your father fell on deaf ears. They tried to reassure you that once you were checked over, you could go, but their words all blended together.

"Ma." Fez's soft voice stopped you, causing your shoulders to slump in defeat. Your lip trembled as you turned to him, tears falling down your face and mixing with blood.

He moved quickly, unbothered by the officers as he gently pulled you toward him, his nose pressed into your hair as sobs racked your body.

You noticed Rue's presence as she approached you both, and that's when it first struck you. She must have called Fez. And if she called Fez...

"Did you call them?" You questioned, eyes affixed on her shaking frame. She remained quiet, her eyes darting between you and Fez as her mouth opened and closed, "Did you fucking call the police, Rue?"

She stumbled back a little as you approached her, eyes ablaze with anger.

She stuttered, barely able to get more than a word or two out when Fez finally spoke up,

"She ain't call 'em. I did."

If you were in the right frame of mind, you'd have known he was covering for her. Fez didn't involve the police, he didn't come here to watch them cart your father off. Not if the gun he had was anything to go by.

You weren't thinking straight, however, and your head snapped around, glare settling on him, instead. Without giving him the time to explain, your hand struck out, palm slapping him harshly across the face.

His eyes didn't move from you, and if he was honest, he wasn't sure he'd try to stop you if you did it again. Rue didn't deserve your anger, especially not for giving a shit, but he believed he did.

"Why the fuck would you do that? You knew they'd take him. You fuckin' knew, Fezco. Why the fuck would you-"

"Cause he'd of fuckin' killed you otherwise." He didn't want to raise his voice, but he was finding himself at odds with your debilitating loyalty to a man who didn't think twice before knocking you around.

Your eyes dropped to his blood-stained shirt, and you had to forcefully make yourself swallow the vomit that was trying to crawl it's way up your throat. Your eyes darted toward Rue, who was looking at her shoes, trying to stop herself from crying.

Fez watched as the lights from the surrounding police cars blended with the twinkling Christmas lights across the road, reflecting in your eyes and dancing across your face softly, almost mocking him.

"You're fucking dead to me, Fezco."

You turned to Rue, eyes full of remorse. Looking toward Fez, she tried to open her mouth once more, but a single nod from the man caused her to slam it shut. Turning back to you, she took a few steps forward, grabbing your hand as a paramedic led you both away.

[talltalesandbedtimestories]

Past Due (Dean/OFC)

Title: Past Due

Rating: Mature

Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Original Female Character

Pairing: Dean x OFC

Summary: Dean Winchester has an effect on an older woman he's known for years. Kansas, Men of Letters Bunker Setting. Set around Season 15 with some canon-divergent plotting. 

Tags: Fluff, Flirting, Explicit Language, Smut, Angst, POV First Person, POV Female Character, Librarians, Friends to Lovers, Protective Dean Winchester, The Winchesters Are On A Case, The Boys Deserved A Better Ending

Chapters 1 to 3 Word Count: ~ 5K   

Notes: Posted on AO3 10/2/20; Completed 7/16/21. 

Chapter 1

Am I being checked out while checking him out? 

I scan the barcode on the back cover. His eyes are trained on my face with a little more interest than usual.

Do I have some spinach between my teeth from the salad I had for lunch? God, why does he have to do that thing with his tongue?

I readjust the glasses on the bridge of my nose and make some quiet small talk with the gorgeousness in front of me. I do most of the talking and he does most of the nodding.

No. Dean Winchester is not checking me out. He’s just existing and breathing and short circuiting my brain as he tends to do on occasion with his proximity. 

I will not fuss with my hair like I always do when he’s close enough for me to smell him. Oh, Goddammit.

I feel like a sixteen year old around this man. Every damn time. It’s not fair. It happened the first time I met him six years ago. He’d handed over the paperwork and I processed his library card application. He smiled that lopsided grin that says, You poor unsuspecting creature. I’m so handsome I don’t even have to make much of an effort . 

That was the day he and his mountain man of a brother, Sam, walked into the Smith Center Library. Back when they had used Campbell as their last names on the application. And before they had helped with a haunting that blew their aliases. At least with me. It was a “job” for them that involved my brother five towns over. The house he had bought for a song at a sheriff sale, turned out, came with a supernatural squatter. 

“No shit it was cheap. Because someone was murdered in it. No offense, but your brother was pretty much asking for trouble knowing that going in.” I still remember Dean’s very accurate logic when they’d gotten the full history. 

I shouldn’t feel like a sixteen year old - when I’m 46, speeding toward 47 in a couple months - with a man five years my junior. Even if it is Dean Winchester.

He reminds me of my second husband, Lou. Full of sass, rounded out with some grump, and a sprinkle of edge. He drinks like Lou did. I only know that because I’d bought Dean and Sam a round of drinks one night a few years back. It was a thank you after they’d burned the remains of the poor soul that was stuck in what they called a death echo in my younger brother’s house. Top shelf scotch is Dean’s preferred drink of choice when someone else is buying, by the way. And he has a high tolerance for alcohol that one only gets after decades of experience. Like my second husband, Lou.

He drives a vintage muscle car like Lou did, too. You can hear it ten seconds before it turns onto West Court Street and pulls up to park in front of the library. That engine sound always gets my fellow co-workers on high alert and wide eyed, just like me. It’s a disappointment to all of us when it’s not Dean.

He flirts with every female between the ages of eighteen and eighty that crosses his path. Again, like Lou. It’s his default setting. He seems to prefer a tight skirt from what I’ve gathered through my research. But he rarely slights and denies the opposite sex his charms or thorough assessment if they decide to don pants or shorts.

My brain finally registers the title of the book he’s checked out on the computer screen. The attraction fog has lifted for a brief second. I turn the tome over on the counter and read the title aloud. “Fairies and Wood Nymphs? Do I want to ask?”

He shakes his head. I twist my fingers near my mouth to indicate my lips are sealed. Then he flashed me that weird look again. Almost like he’s processing some data. Maybe it’s because he hasn’t been in here for over a month and I’m paying every flinch and twitch even more attention than usual. I realize in real time I’m cataloguing all of these In case I don’t see him for another month. Or, God forbid, two months. “You really are, aren’t you, Winter?” He finally pipes up with a question, using my surname as usual. The smile returns to his face.

“What’s that, Mr. Campbell?” I respond with a way too giddy smile and slide the book back to him. My coworkers are probably snickering at me behind the periodicals as they watch the show. Sure, like they wouldn’t be putty in this man’s hands, either. Even Ronald turns into mush around Dean.

He bends and leans back a bit to rest those thick forearms on the counter. Plaid clad shoulders, green eyes, freckled skin, and pouty lips are now at eye level with my five foot four frame. “Good at keeping a secret.” He mumbles and lowers his voice more with every syllable.

That voice triggers the floodgates down below.

What the hell is going on right now? “Friends don’t call me ‘The Vault’ for nothin’.” I somehow get the sentence out. Being this close reminds me of the night at the bar. When the scotch had worked its magic at the Mexican restaurant. The neon green cactus aesthetic and terra cotta motif had lulled Dean into some sort of sarape security blanket. He’d divulged a lot after Sam, downing only one drink, had left in the Impala with the promise to pick up his brother in a couple of hours. By the end of the night, Dean said I was a good listener and not quick to judge. That I had a nice calming presence. That I’d must have seen some heavy shit in my lifetime, too. 

“Can I ask you something?” His brows raise.

My mouth has dried up so I can only nod in response.

He cocks his head to the library entrance. “Do you have a minute to talk outside?”

I nod again. I may not be the boss, but my seniority and elder status give me a little leeway.

He rises up, taps the counter and grabs the book. “I’ll be waitin’ in the car.” I get a full smile this time and almost pass out.

I push the front door of the library and spill out on the sidewalk a couple minutes later. His black beauty of a car is still there, waiting. The nippy Fall temperature is enough for me to wrap my cardigan tight around my middle. Dean is in the driver’s seat, windows open, with Lynyrd Skynyrd playing on the radio.

He has an eager and appreciative look on his face when he exits the vehicle and walks toward the hood to meet me. “Thanks.”

I shrug. “What did you want to ask me?” I wrap some stray, windswept strands back behind my ear.

“Sam and I, we could use some help at the bunker.”

I can’t help but gasp at the word. Bunker. This legendary place I’ve gotten sparse, verbal descriptions of here and there over the years. Their home base. Sam has boasted of its library to me.

“Well, mainly Sam could use some help. Because I’m useless when it comes to the library. And, he also doesn’t trust me when it comes to the books.”

Library. I’m able to stifle another gasp. I stand in silence, waiting for more.

He sighs. “Let’s just say we had an accident. A lot of the books got damaged, flew off shelves into a massive paper mountain.”

My head nods in a fury. “Yes, I’d love to help.”

He chuckles at my eagerness. “Great.” He hands me a note, like we’re in high school. “Meet me at this intersection and I’ll show you the rest of the way there?”

“When?”

“Whatever's good for you.”

I realize how non existent my social life is lately and offer, “Friday night?”

He nods. Another grin. “Eight?”

“Sounds good to me.”

“It’s a date.” He winks.

Lou NEVER winked.

Chapter 2

I left my cottage in Smith Center that Friday after the sun had set. It was a twenty minute drive before I came upon Dean at the crossroads, waiting for me with a grin and a goal when my headlights spotted him. I followed Dean’s Impala in my Wrangler down the long, winding prairie road eventually overtaken by trees for another ten minutes. The radio kept me company in the dark. The wooded area closed in on each side as I drove behind the Impala’s wake. 

A clearing amid the trees to the right gets my attention. I peer up and gasp, braking in time to avoid a mild fender bender after Dean’s abrupt stop. 

The bunker looks like a massive detention center or secret government facility built into a rather large hill. It’s intimidating in its grey, drab, and impenetrable appearance. Illumination from the moon and stars in the Kansas sky provide a perfect backdrop. I can see the outline of the sharp roofline structure high above the tree canopies.

What the hell am I getting into? These brothers have provided the occasional glimpse into their lives with the weird research requests over the past few years. I should feel scared or worried. But, the quick pace of my heartbeat has more to do with the excitement of peeking at what’s behind the curtain. And, finally seeing the place Sam and Dean Winchester call home in Lebanon, Kansas.

The squeak of Dean’s driver side door as it opens and he plants boots on the gravel makes the blood pound in my ears. He eases, almost pours out. The door cinches shut with a creak. My headlights spotlight him again. He strolls over on those bow legs. I kill the engine. He leans against my open window, staring down, a hand and forearm reclining on the rooftop. “Still okay with this, Winter?”

I smile. He’s such a perfect mix of rugged and that kind of handsome they don’t make anymore. He reminds me of Paul Newman, Robert Redford, John Wayne or Clint Eastwood in their heyday. But, then he’ll shine some cheekiness that gives me the vibe of a Frank Sinatra or Dean Martin hosting a variety hour from the 60s. I stare at those lips a little longer than I should. Again. “Yep. This is already the most eventful Friday night I’ve had in forever.”

He taps the roof. “Alright, then.”

The temperature has dropped and I’m glad I wore a heavy jacket. The gravel crunches underfoot and Dean has enough courtesy and manners to lead the way in the dark with a flashlight.

“Got a few concrete steps here. Careful on the way down.”

I chuckle. “So nice of you to look out for your elder.”

He waves the flashlight in my direction, but low to my chest so it’s not directly in my eyes. “You do that a lot, you know.”

I stop in my tracks. “What?”

“Point out that you’re older than me.”

“Do I?”

“Mh-hm.” The flashlight rotates back around in his hand so we can continue the trek. He waits until we are both at the threshold of a large door. It looks like a bank vault. The click of a key in a lock is heard when he adds, “Why do you do that?”

I shrug in the shadows.

The door gives to Dean’s pull and sounds like he’s breaking some type of hermetic seal. In moments we are atop a stairwell. The door slams behind us and makes me jump. My eyes widen at the view below, something out of a 40s war room. Dean’s already halfway down the iron staircase before my feet are able to move. I track and inventory the vintage communication devices, the art deco architecture, the solid build of this secret place with brick and stone and marble. A huge table in the middle of the room has a world map lit up from below as its surface. Dean drops his backpack on the table without a second glance. “Sam!” He yells.

He walks to a large open entryway into another room with a step up. I glimpse the row of tables and shelves. And the books. The books scattered everywhere. The smell of leather and musky paper fills the air. I inhale deep and get that little whiff of smoke and vanilla that I love.

“I’d invite you to make yourself at home, but that’s not really possible at the moment.” He motions for me to follow. Dean shucks off his jacket and hangs it on the back of one of the chairs. I’m attracted to a nook in the beautiful hall filled with clutter. I drape my jacket on a wingback chair and pick up a hardbound book on one of the stacks. There are dozens of these book pillars piled in various heights, some reaching to my shoulders. “Where the hell is he?” Dean asks no one in particular.

I notice a Samurai sword on display to my left when Sam’s free floating voice calls out. “Be there in a minute, Dean!”

Dean sighs and slinks through the maze of books. He lands on my right and stares down at me. “Are you hungry? We’ve got a stocked kitchen for once. Sandwich? Snack? Beer?”

I shake my head, too busy splitting my gaze between his expectant green eyes and the volume in my hands. “Is this an actual first edition of Grimm’s Fairy Tales?”

Dean opens his mouth but Sam answers, peeking over the Samurai sword on the bookshelf. “Yep. From 1909. Thanks for coming to help out.” He smiles.

“This is… wow.” I’m speechless.

“Well, I’m hungry.” Dean pipes in. “I’ll be back in a bit.” He darts and bounds up another small set of stairs leading out of the library.

“Remember,” Sam begins.

Dean halts in the other doorway. “I’m not bringing any food in here. I got it, Sam, nothing that might mess up your precious. You're worse than that goblin thing in Lord of the Rings.”

“Gollum was a hobbit.” I correct him.

“Stoor hobbit, actually.” Sam nods in agreement.

Dean purses his lips and raises both hands, then slams them in mock defeat against his thighs. “Thanks for clarifying. Looks like we found the best person to help.” He shakes his head and gives me a tiny smile before disappearing.

My heart beat skips at that smile.

*

Sam and I spend a good fifteen minutes deciding on a strategy to divide and conquer. He’s as giddy as I am to get these things back in their proper spots. The Dewey Decimal system makes the overwhelming task a bit easier. He really only needed another pair of hands and a bookish mindset. I’ll take one side of the library, Sam the other. He’s pulled out a pencil sketch of the shelves and their categories, as best as he can recollect.

“Dean got this glazed look when I asked him to help organize after we got them piled up and out of the middle of the room.”

I thumb through the index cards in the catalogue to get my bearings and hope to find homes for a couple books to start. Anything that doesn’t go on my side that I come across, I’ll leave for Sam on the table closest to the war room. He’ll place anything for me on the other table. “An actual explosion?”

Sam nods. “It was like an earthquake. Shook everything. And, then, there were the…” He clamps his lips tight and runs his fingers through his long hair. “Too much information for your first night. I want you to come back and help.”

I narrow my eyes. “I was already crazy enough to come. It would have to be pretty terrifying for me not to return.”

He shrugs and only repeats, “I want you to come back.”

We talk. He’s hesitant to indulge me with certain facts. But when I ask if Dean has any culinary skills to speak of, he’s almost an open book. Burgers and charring meat appear to be Dean’s specialty. I smile, feeling the tap and tug of my heart, thinking about how good my first husband, Rick, was with a grill and a smoker. I ask about Jack. Sam tells me that he’s staying with Cas for a while. 

One afternoon, a couple years back, Dean and I stood huddled by a monitor in the technology area. He was dressed in a sharp blue suit and wore a cologne that filled my nose with citrus and cedar. To this day, I’m not sure how I managed to remain upright.

He was in need of some topographic maps of Lebanon. I didn’t ask why and he seemed grateful. I asked about Jack, since he was fresh in my mind from a recent visit. Dean steeled his jaw before confessing he and Sam were having difficulty with their new charge. I learned they had saved Jack from a dangerous situation. I assumed it was something supernatural. His mom had passed when he was born and their friend, Cas, had taken the boy under his wing not long after that. Now that friend was in need of more assistance with Jack. There was more to the story, but I didn’t press.

I knew why he mentioned Jack’s mom. He knew about my first husband. It had been one of my confessions over those drinks years back. Rick had been my high school sweetheart. We’d married halfway through university at KWU in Salina. I got my bachelors. Rick had turned his volunteer firefighter position into a career, dropped out after two years at university, and kept telling me he was going to go back to school after. After was Rick’s favorite word.

We moved back to Smith Center after school. I got a job at the library soon after that. Our son Ricky came along a year later. Rick had promised a five year old Ricky at the dinner table they would go to the neighbor’s farm over the weekend. He’d get his first pony ride. After his 24-hour shift at the firehouse.

Rick never came home after that shift.

Chapter 3

I shake myself from the memory. I’m not sure how long it is before I turn around to grab from a new stack and find Dean standing right there. My nose brushes against his shirt. I avoid slamming the rest of me into him. 

I smell the fresh clean showered scent of him. He’s sporting loungewear like a male supermodel. The spiky damp hair is doing weird things to my insides. I want to run my fingers through them like I’m sprinting through a field of wheat. And, then I want to tug on those strands while he…

“Is Sam taking advantage of you?” He smirks, chin to his chest, looking down at me. “Free labor and all. Sure you aren’t hungry?”

“No, I’m good, thanks. Getting in the zone.”

He nods into his chest. “Well, if you plan on it being an all-nighter, we’ve got plenty of space for you to crash.”

“Dean…” Sam side eyes and scolds him with a slight shake of his head.

I realize how curious I am to explore more of this amazing place. I also realize how much being this close to Dean makes me wish he’d never be more than an arm’s length away. See? Sixteen year old. My twenty-three year old son would be mortified at his mother’s behavior right now. Thank God he’s on his own and away at school, working on his Master’s in Library Science. He would love this book collection, though. “I could use directions to a bathroom.”

Dean smiles. “Sure. Follow me.”

I nod to Sam. His gives me a hesitant smile.

Dean leads out the library in slippers that remind me of something my father would wear. I stare at the heels of his bare feet peeking out from the slippers when he steps up. For a second I get an image of the two of us on the couch watching television. His long and solid frame spread out across all the cushions. I’m seated at one end with his calves propped up on my lap, massaging his tired and sore feet. “Coming, Winter?” Dean’s voice calls out. He’s turned to wait, a quizzical stare at me. Shit, how long have I been daydreaming?

I join him. He’s along my left down the marble and stone corridors. They contain a plethora of doors and intersections that turn my sense of direction on its head. The halls feel cold, antiseptic, even though the design and style is meticulous and elegant.

Dean rubs the back of his neck. “You probably have a dozen more questions now.”

“Try a hundred. It’s just the two of you in this huge place?”

“Well, sometimes Jack. And, Cas.”

“Do you have a cleaning service come in or something?” I run a finger along the marble wall as I pass. I tilt my head in approval at the lack of dirt.

He chuckles. “We’ve got a really great filtration system. Just have the usual upkeep with the common areas and our rooms.”

“I need to get me one of those.”

“Or live in a secret lair with no windows.”

“Hm, that’s true, you don’t have any. You really could not know what’s going on outside while you’re in here.”

“It’s a hermit’s fantasy. Like that hobbit.” He grins and stops at a door. “It’s the bathroom slash showers. Don’t get lost in there. Or on your way back. Make a right out the door, left at the dead end.” He points down the hall with two fingers like a cop directing traffic. “Pass two cross streets, then make a right onto the next one. You’ll see the library entrance on your left. Eventually.”

I frown. “If I get lost?”

“Just call me, Winter.”

*

My flats shuffle down the hall. I make my way back to the library and feel like I’m at work. I shift into my quiet and unobtrusive mood. Unseen unless needed or called upon.

Dean’s instructions were clear and easy to follow. The slight panic at being in an unknown maze subsides when I hear their voices. I turn down the hall. The warm amber light from the library spills into the corridor yards away.

Their voices travel toward me. The acoustics are quite good in this place. I can tell they are trying to keep their voices low.

“You should ease up.” Sam sounds irritated.

“What?”

“Not every woman needs to be a conquest, Dean.”

“Shut it. I-I don’t think about Winter like-.” Dean stutters. “I’d never think of her as a conquest.”

And that. That’s what makes my heart drop into my stomach. Of course he doesn’t think of me that way.

Sam sighs. “I can really use her help. And, she’s always been nothing but nice to us.”

Dean sighs back. “I know that.”

I take a deep breath, beat myself over the head with reality. Cough for good measure so they know I’m coming. When I turn the corner, Sam is busy in his section and Dean is between the tables, ringing his hands, and smiling at me.

He’s been sweet because, why, felt bad for me? Placating me, maybe? He just knows he’s got that effect on women?

“Great at directions, Sam. Told ya.” Dean claps his hands. “I’ve been told enough space has been cleared and that snacks may be brought in.” He raises a finger in the air for emphasis. “I’ll be back.” A quick turn and dash around the corner of a table has him disappearing through the war room.

When I step in to assume my spot I catch his figure heading through a doorway by the stairwell entrance. I resume the work. Quiet and unobtrusive.

“Everything alright?” Sam notices the change.

“Yep.” I flash a smile full of teeth. “This is an amazing collection.” I pretend to rifle through the pages of one book with interest before placing it on a shelf.

“Did Dean… say something… to make you uncomfortable?” Sam strolls closer and leans on the table to sit. I think it’s an attempt to shorten our height differential. “He can get a little carried away.”

I fidget with the frames of my glasses. “No. I’m used to it. He’s like that with every woman, right?” I grab two books and study the spines.

Sam shrugs. “Kind of.” From my peripheral view, I can see him lean down farther and try to make eye contact. Or get a read on me. “I mean, it’s not like you’d be interested, right?” 

This weird sound comes out of my mouth that resembles a laugh being choked out of my windpipe. When I look up Sam has a deer in the headlights expression. The wrinkles on his forehead have multiplied.

He chuckles and blinks. “Right.” Fingers tap on the table surface and he’s back to work on his side.

*

I spend another hour and a half with the brothers in the library. Dean brought a variety of things to munch on. My heart feels a little heavy at my assumption about his interest. The fantasy couldn’t last forever in my head. But I try to enjoy Sam and Dean’s company and take everything at face value. They are nice guys, after all. I’m sure there wasn’t any intentional misleading on the part of my emotions.

I crunch my last carrot stick and slide another book home. “Alright, gentlemen. I do know how to party it up on a Friday night. But it’s close to 10:30. I should get myself home.”

Dean squints. “If it’s too late for a drive back…”

I raise a hand in protest. “They haven’t taken my driver’s license away from me yet due to old age. I’ll be fine.”

Dean’s half-hearted smile disappears. He stuffs a few potato chips in his mouth as he gets up. “Let me put on some shoes.”

“What for?”

He lifts both hands up. “Want to make sure you get home safe. I’ll follow you back.”

My mouth opens. There’s a thrill that I’m quick to squash down. “I might not want you to know where I live.” I interject without thinking.

His eyes widen and then he smiles. “It’s cute that you think we don’t already know where you live.”

My head whips to Sam. He shrugs. “Part of the job. We vet everyone who gets let into our little circle of chaos.”

“Be right back.” Dean confirms there’s no way I’m getting out of an escort home.

Sam is ever so grateful for the assistance tonight. He wraps me up in a huge friendly hug that’s warm and comforting. He thinks he can manage the rest of it on his own. But he offers to have me come back soon, inspect and approve what he’s done. The library is always open for me to visit in case I want to do some actual reading.

Dean returns a few minutes later, fully dressed again. The man is quick and ready for action at a moment’s notice. Could have been a firefighter.

I’m quiet on the way out. I follow him down to our cars. He provides the lead and lights my way to the Wrangler. He clicks the driver’s side door closed once I’m in and suggests a three point turn to head back the road we came in on. He offers to lead in the Impala. I decline, sure in my navigational skills.

I keep checking my rear view mirror on the drive back. I see the silhouette of the assured, confident Winchester. I’m positive that man has broken many hearts. But, probably provided some amazing memories for some lucky women. I’m also positive he’d be a hard act to follow for anyone that came after him. I’m not sure I could handle either of those scenarios at this point. 

And how lucky could one woman get anyway in a lifetime? I think back to Rick and the memories that have a grainy film overlay to them now. How special those years were. How misguided and unfair I was to Lou, constantly comparing him to the man I lost. Knowing that my expectations and a multitude of sins on his part led to our divorce five years back. 

It’s better like this: to admire Dean Winchester from afar with the occasional heart palpitations.

I pull into my short drive. I’m self conscious about the loud rumble of the Impala’s engine as Dean rolls past me to stop in front of my house. My neighbors are scattered here and there along the prairie road. No one is on top of each other. But it’s usually quiet this time of night. Jody or Harry will be peeking because of the noise. A second later my prediction is confirmed. I stare off to the right through my passenger window to see a light snap on in the Wilson’s kitchen window.

I hop out of the Wrangler, ready to walk over to Dean’s driver side and thank him for seeing me home. Dean cuts off the engine and emerges with an energetic self propulsion. I stall in my tracks. Even in the dark I blush at those eyes that I know are trained on me. Goddammit.

“Thanks.” I squeak out and clear my throat.

“No problem. Wanted to make sure you got home safe.” I hear his hands slide into his jean pockets. He’s closer now. My eyes have adjusted to the dark. His tongue peeks out and brushes that full bottom lip. It glistens in the moonlight. He cocks his head to my porch. “Alright if I watch you get inside?” He raises a hand. “Not me being stalky. Just cautious.”

I narrow my eyes. “Do you have a target on your back or something?” A shiver runs down my spine. I’m not sure if it’s due to fear or standing for too long in the chilly October night.

He grins. “Not at the moment.” My mouth opens up at the cavalier response. He turns serious, maybe because of the look I gave him. “We didn’t want to tell you, didn’t want to worry you…”

“That’s a great way to start things off.” I frown and cross my arms.

“You should get inside, Winter. Gettin’ cold.”

“You can’t do that to me. Leave me hanging like that.” I hear a familiar screen door screech open on hinges that need greasing.

He sighs and nods past my shoulder to something behind me. “I don’t want to explain out here. We’ve got an audience.”

I turn around, past my Jeep and the drive to see Harry in his sweatpants and a t-shirt. He’s leaning against a pillar under the floodlight of his porch. A sharp nod in my direction. Jody’s voice travels in the night air, asking her husband what’s going on over at my house.  I sigh and give the neighbor a wave. “Well, we’ve given them something to talk about.” I mumble. “Might as well come inside for a minute so I get all the facts.”

[koko-doodle]

FNAF SB: GLITCHED TWILIGHT

Chapter 2

Chapter 1

Summary: You are a technician that takes care of the cleaning and maintenance of the animatronics and various attractions at Freddy Fazbear's Mega Pizzaplex. As you work there, you find that things are a lot more complicated than they seem to be. Things are breaking in a manner too organized to be a coincidence. Will you quit? Or try to get the bottom of the mystery?

16 pages - 8,238 words

It was the next day and you were ready to start day two of your new job. You had received an email early that morning confirming that all your paperwork was in the system and was filled out properly so you wouldn’t have to redo any of the forms. Thank goodness.

When you arrive at the pizzaplex you walk through the doors and begin making your way to your locker. The nice woman at the ticket counter who had helped you yesterday was busy helping a family but smiled and waved at you when you made brief eye contact. You smiled back and returned the wave as you passed by and entered through the gate. You absorbed the sights and sounds of the pizzaplex yet again as it buzzed with children and adults making their way to the main attractions.

After weaving through several groups of people you manage to maneuver to the employee entrance and get to your locker. You enter the small break room and whip out your phone to peek at your locker code. You were good with numbers and equations but memorizing and remembering passcodes was always a struggle. You figured it would take at least two weeks before you would remember the code.

You place your belongings on the top shelf and make sure to keep your headphones with you when your phone blares in your back pocket, making you jump and almost slam the locker door on your fingers.

Good morning valued employee! It is great to see you at your second day on the job. Welcome back, TATER TOT.

“Geez MORT, what did I tell you about turning the volume up so loud!” You exclaim, pulling your phone out of your back pocket. The app was already open when you unlocked your phone and MORT’s face was staring right at you. His features matched the staff bots, the same color scheme and of course, the same expressionless eyes.

Apologies, we discussed the volume on the alarms not the general volume. I have made a note not to start at maximum volume upon arrival.

“Or you know, just keep it at less than half volume all the time. I’m not deaf you know, no need to announce yourself to the whole world. You nearly scared me half to death.” You say, closing the locker door without your fingers in the way this time.

If there is an injury or death it must be immediately reported to management, would you like me to contact them now?

“What? No, that’s just an expression. I’m fine, you just scared me is all.” You found it kind of strange how MORT immediately jumped to management at mention of an injury… and death? It was a bit unsettling but you didn’t dwell on it.

Great. The Mega Pizzaplex is a very large and loud work environment, the volume override feature for louder volume as my default settings is mandatory. My sound can not be disabled, to do so would require administrative rights. Checking on employee status….

“No, I didn't say turn it of I just want you to turn it down a bit. Alright?”

I have searched your employee file and it seems you do not have administrative rights to disable sound. Volume will be reduced to 70% as the new default. Please say yes to confirm new settings.

“Well that’s a start at least so, yes.” You shake your head as you respond to the bot, he listened about as good as a two year old. Work was going to be extremely difficult with your ‘partner’ if this is how it was going to be all the time.

Fantastic, new settings have been confirmed. Please make your way to the main entry to begin your first task.

“Okay.” You respond, walking out of the break room and back the way you came. “What is my first task?”

Your first task of the day is simple. You are to familiarize yourself again with your work environment. With the aid of the audio tour yesterday, you should know where all the areas are now. We will go through each area of the pizzaplex and discuss your routines and required maintenance items for each attraction. I will be your guide through this process. It is recommended you take extensive notes as your first day of repairs will begin tomorrow.

“Alright, I can do that.” You reach for your headphones and place one into your ear. “Remember, don’t blow my ears out with the headphones either, okay?”

MORT acknowledges and you start with the audio tour of tasks. Just like yesterday, you start with the attractions on the bottom floor first. The first area was Fazerblast, the only thing in this area that fell under your job description was the blasters and the S.T.A.F.F. Bots. If the blasters were broken or damaged, it was your job to get them back up and working again. The same went for the S.T.A.F.F. Bots, they glitched out occasionally but for the most part they would need to be cleaned and checked for loose parts on a weekly basis.

Next was Roxy’s Raceway. There were quite a few things that you would be required to keep functioning. The karts of course were your responsibility if they were pulled off the track due to a malfunction or break. Judging by the corner filled with karts and the Driver Assist versions, it had been a while since anyone had worked on repairing them. You made sure to make note that the Driver Assist repair parts were in a staff room located in the west arcade. You thought that was very counterproductive to have the repair parts so far away but at the same time you didn’t see a good area that was safe to keep spare robot parts either.

Gator Golf was your next stop. Your jobs here just consisted of making sure the moving obstacles on the courses functioned properly and were clean. You didn’t think that would be too hard seeing as though they were quite large and would be easy to get to. Although the majority of them were submerged in water they still came out every once in a while. You were relieved when MORT told you fishing balls out of the water and other areas of the courses was not your job. There was another attraction on the upper floor of Gator Golf but it was recently discontinued for safety reasons so you were instructed not to worry about it.

On to your next stop, Kid’s Cove or rather the Superstar Daycare. You were told you might have to repair anything that required it such as broken tables or chairs, loose bolts on the play area, or broken toys. MORT illuded to the fact that you might be the only one with the tools to do so. Your main responsibility here though would be the Daycare Attendant. You were required to do a daily clean and wellness check on the Daycare Attendant as they are the animatronic that goes through the most handling by children, more so than the Glamrock animatronics.

While you listened to MORT rant off about something involving toys, you watched the Attendant from the top floor through the netting. The bot was sun themed and brightly colored. He was playing what looked like a game of tag with the children. He looked incredibly tall compared to the small kids running around inside, the way he bounced around and skipped to catch the kids made you chuckle. He looked like a person who was wearing flippers on their feet as they ran with ridiculously large strides who was also very uncoordinated and unbalanced. You watched as he snatched a little girl up in his arms and tickled her, she screamed with laughter and the other children ran to her aid. Soon enough the Daycare Attendant was the one on the ground being “tickled” by the children.

Laying flat on the ground in a defeated position all the children giggled as he pretended to wave a flag in surrender. When the laughing subsided he gathered the children up and led them over to a softer padded area where a S.T.A.F.F. Bot was waiting with a box full of what looked like puppets. He sat the children down and began singing a song followed by hand gestures that the children copied and sang with him. You were so entertained by the Daycare Attendant you had forgotten about MORT. After repeating himself several times to move to the next area, you finally snapped out of your trance and continued learning your tasks.

The other areas were pretty self explanatory, most of the other tasks consisted of repairing and maintaining the S.T.A.F.F. Bots located in the other areas. You did see the DJ in the dance hall briefly, the thought of having to clean and maintain an animatronic of that size was beyond intimidating. Not to mention the fact he looked like a giant spider with headphones. There are not many things that you are afraid of but spiders just so happened to be one of the things that terrified you.

You would be required to repair arcade games and fix the bowling machines should any pins get stuck in Bonnie’s Bowling Alley but other than that, it was going to be the same routine for all areas. You weren’t required to repair anything in the rooms of the Glamrock Animatronics but you were required to do a weekly cleaning and monthly maintenance on them when the time comes.

After finishing your very long and boring chore list, it was time for a dinner break. MORT again set a timer for one hour and turned off without another word. You made your way back to your locker to grab the dinner you had packed for yourself. A PB & J sandwich with some chips was on the menu for tonight, you had been too lazy to try and get yourself something nice to eat for dinner before you left for work. You couldn’t stand the cramped space of the tiny break room so you decided to find a bench by the main stage and people watch as you ate your food.

People are always funny to watch but people with kids are usually the most entertaining. You could definitely tell which parents had their parenting down and which didn’t. Of course the crying and screaming children were a sight and sound you would gladly pass on but it was still interesting to see how the adults calmed their children in different ways. You are just taking a large bite out of your sandwich and watching a child squeeze a plushie to its breaking point when a voice startles you out of your thoughts.

“Hello! It is good to see you again friend, I was hoping I would run into you sometime tonight.”

You looked up to see Freddy looming over you. You quickly tried to swallow your bite of food before speaking but almost choked instead. You coughed several times as your body attempted to prevent the food from entering your airways but failed.

“Oh hey *cough, cough* Freddy. *cough*”

“Oh my apologies, are you alright?” He asks, putting a hand on your shoulder in concern. You waved your own hand and nodded, you coughed a few more times before the feeling passed and your lungs quit screaming.

“Yep, I’m fine. Just inhaling my food instead of eating it is all” you say with a small embarrassed chuckle after clearing your throat.

“Are you able to breathe? Do you need emergency assistance?” He asks.

“Nope, I’m good. I’m okay, really. Thanks though.” You gave a reassuring smile but you were pretty sure it looked more strained than calming. Freddy dropped his hand from your shoulder and his mannerisms shifted from alert to relaxed.

“So what’s up? You said you were looking for me? Did I… do something wrong?” You question.

“No, not at all! Quite the opposite actually, I had just hoped to see you again since I couldn’t stay and converse with you last night. Fabulous coincidence that we met you along the way to our next party.”

“We?” You inquire.

“Yes, I’d like to introduce you to my good friend Chica.” He says, stepping aside to reveal the chicken themed animatronic who had been standing beside him the whole time. Who had seen you make a fool of yourself in front of Freddy. Who had listened to you choke on your food because you decided to breathe instead of swallow. That’s now two Glamrocks who you had managed to make yourself look like a dork in front of for your first impression. Great.

“Heya hun! Freddy’s had nothing but nice things to say about ya, you really are just as scrumptious as he described~” She says, tilting her head with a smile.

“Ahahaha uh, thanks. I think…?” You respond, contemplating whether it was meant as a praise or an insult.

“Oh don’t mind her, that is just her way of complimenting you.” Freddy chuckles back, noticing your confusion.

“What? I love food, and what better way to compliment someone than to describe them the same way you do your favorite things!” She teased. She and Freddy both laughed and you couldn’t help but join them with a chuckle of your own.

“Anyways, Freddy and I are off to a birthday celebration for a kiddo when he saw you wanted to say hi.”

“Oh, really? I didn’t think he would care about me.” You said, not realizing what you had just implied without thinking. Freddy looked down to you with a saddened expression and his ears dropped a little.

“Apologies, I hope I did not make you feel that way when I couldn’t stay last night. I would have loved to but I had children who were anxious to see the last show for the day.” He responds.

“Oh, no that’s okay. You had a job to do, I didn’t feel like you didn’t care. What I meant was you are THE Freddy Fazbear, the star of the Mega Pizzaplex! I wasn’t expecting you to go out of your way to interact with a new employee on their first week, let alone their first day. I’m just a technician, no one special.” You reply, trying to reassure the animatronic bear.

“Quite the contrary! Every new employee is very important, why without people like you this pizzaplex wouldn’t be able to function. We are a team here, I like to make everyone feel like they are a part of something special from day one.” Freddy exclaims with such enthusiasm it almost seems like he was trying to give you a sales pitch on teamwork.

“Oh Freddy, you really are such a big teddy bear.” Chica giggles, poking his nose then places her hands on her hips casually. “Always watching out for everyone, even if you haven’t met them yet.”

“But that is my job! That is what we are here for, is it not? To make everyone feel like a superstar.” He looks at you and winks.

“You got that right” she chimes in with a big smile. “Well we had better get going, we don’t want to be late for the party! Especially not when there’s pizza!” She exclaimed excitedly, rubbing her hands together.

“Yes of course, we have children expecting us.” Freddy turns to you and gives you a thumbs up. “We’ll see you around friend!”

“Uh yeah, you too.” You respond automatically, then shake your head. “I mean I’ll see you guys around too. Have fun at the party, or rather um… entertaining at the party.” They wave in acknowledgement as they leave and you drop your head into your hand. At this rate, you were bound to be the laughing stock of the employees at the pizzaplex. Hopefully no one had heard your embarrassing interaction with the Glamrocks, maybe there was some hope that your social awkwardness would remain a secret. Well, at least for longer than the second day at your new job.

You continued watching the hustle and bustle of the families while your dinner break came to an end. Thankfully MORT did remember not to blast the alarm at full volume but it was still loud and the people passing by gave you interesting looks as you scrambled to turn the blaring siren noise off.

After dinner, MORT instructed you to make your way to your “desk” down in parts and service. After a slight detour at a wrong turn you did manage to make it to parts and service by yourself without needing a guide this time. When you reached your desk there was the stack of manuals still sitting there like you had left them the night before, however there was now a tablet resting beside the stack with a sticky note placed on the screen.

You pick up the note and read a simple phrase that says: please watch ALL of the videos. The word ALL was underlined a few times for emphasis. Right after you read the note, your favorite companion decided to chime in with instructions.

The videos contained on this FazPad will provide you with instructions as well as visual walkthroughs for each of your designated repair tasks. It is crucial to watch each video till the end as there are many moving elements involved in each of the attractions. Fazbear Entertainment is not responsible for any accidents, injuries, or deaths caused by the insufficient study of these videos.

“Got it. No skipping the videos.” You promptly respond. That was the second time the bot mentioned injuries and death today, was this something that happened often? And why death of all things? You hadn’t heard or read any news reports about accidents or better yet, any fatalities at the pizzaplex. There were either no accidents to report or Fazbear Entertainment was really good at keeping things under the radar.

You sit down in your uncomfortable cardboard box of a chair and begin watching the videos. They were already pulled up when you unlocked the FazPad, there were a total of 57 videos to watch. Some were under 5 minutes long while others were 30 minutes or longer. You start at the top of the list and slowly make your way down, you try to take important notes on your phone where you could. Most were simple and straightforward like how to repair a broken LED light or grease the gears of certain attractions. Simple stuff. The videos on the go karts in Roxy’s Raceway however gave you the biggest headache. You felt like you were going through a crash course on automotive repairs. Although the karts were electric, they still required a lot of maintenance and care in order to keep them functioning properly.

You find yourself slowly starting to nod off during a video on how to pull apart an arcade game when your phone starts buzzing with an alarm. You jolt awake and turn it off, knocking the FazPad off your makeshift book stand in the process.

Congratulations TATER TOT, you have completed your second day on the job. Please make your way out of the pizzaplex as the security gates will close in 15 minutes.

“Oh geez, is it 10:45 already?” You ask, answering your own question by checking the time on your phone. “Wow, that went by fast.” You stand up, and make your way back through the pizzaplex to the employee break room. The eerie calmness of everything was a bit unsettling considering this place is always loud and full of people. You grab your stuff and head out the front doors, leaving after a very boring and very long second day.

——————————————-——————

Day 3 and you were beyond ready to actually start working on something. You were so tired of all the tutorials and walkthroughs you would pull your hair out if you had to listen to another day full of MORTs explanations. You were so used to diving right into things and worrying about the details later that all these lessons on your job were driving you crazy. It didn’t matter today though, today you would officially start using skills you studied 4 years for. Well, you hoped at least.

The day was the same as the past two days. Come in, go to the locker room, listen to MORT loudly announce his greetings then hear your first task after you exit the break room. You were instructed to return to your desk and finish the videos you had started last night. Begrudgingly you make your way down to parts and service and pick up where you left off. It took 3 hours to get through the rest of the videos but when you did, you leaned back in your chair raising your arms up in a celebratory stretch. The moment you did thought the back of the chair snapped and you found yourself on the floor.

“Well this day is turning out just ‘great’ so far…” You grumble to yourself as you sit up and dust your clothes off. It was then that you noticed a bucket under the desk with an organizer placed over it. It had pockets all along the outside of it with various pliers, screwdrivers and wrenches in them. Out of curiosity you slide the bucket out and peek at the contents within the bucket. There were wires and wire covers placed inside, it looked like the same wires that all the staff bots had on their back connecting their arms to their chest. You rummaged around and found some other bolts, screws, sockets, and many other small parts. You figured these were used on the animatronics and S.T.A.F.F. bots if they were ever missing parts.

I see you have found your tool kit, fantastic. The tools inside will help you accomplish your necessary tasks for each day. These tools are company property and are not allowed to be used on anything other than Fazbear Entertainment equipment. Should you break tools, it is your job to get them replaced at your own expense but will remain company property.

“What? But half of these tools look old and damaged. They are bound to break the first time I use them. You’re saying I have to pay out of my own pocket to replace these tools if they break but I don’t get to keep them?” You complained as you pulled out several pliers that looked like they had been used for 30 years.

That is correct, glad to see you understand the rules.

“Yeah sure… Stupid rules. All this money and you guys can’t even supply good tools for your employees to use to keep your business running.” You protest back. “Faulty tools are the leading cause of accidents, you know…”

The tablet is also for you to use and keep with you in your toolkit at all times. Instructions and tasks will be sent to you through the app on the FazPad. Any damage or loss of the tablet will-

“Need to be replaced out of my own pocket. Yeah, I think I get the pattern.” You pick up your ‘toolkit’ and place it on the desk. Under better lighting you see the canvas cover was littered with stains and dirt. “Gross, don’t you guys ever wash this thing? This is nasty.” You say scrunching your face while you turn the bucket around to inspect the rest of it. There were several dark reddish brown spots along the bottom of the cover that looked unsettlingly like dried blood spots.

“Is that…. Blood?” You ask deeply concerned.

Are you ready to move on to your first repairs of the day TATER TOT?

“Move on? But this bucket looks like it's gone through World War 3! I don’t want to touch anything, it could have diseases or toxic mold all over it. You seriously expect me to work with this monstrosity of a toolkit?”

If you are dissatisfied with the toolkit you are welcome to buy your own set of tools but of course this will be at your own expense and will become company property after use.

You glare at your phone, still sitting on your desk with MORT’s face staring at the ceiling. You couldn’t believe how cheap management was to make you work with such badly cared for tools. If you were injured because of these stupid things, they would probably find a way to blame the injury on you as your fault. You were beginning to question the people running this place, they may pay well but why were they only concerned about the appearance of the pizzaplex? What about the people keeping it running?

Are you ready to move on to your first repairs?

“Alright” you sigh annoyed, placing the tablet in the bucket and sliding it off the desk by the handle. This was a battle you would have to handle later. “Where are we going?”

MORT tells you to make your way to the utility tunnels behind the main stage, to which he then guides you to a room full of damaged S.T.A.F.F. bots. There had to be at least 20 to 30 bots filling the room. MORT instructs you to pull up the task menu on the FazPad. The moment you unlock the tablet, his face fills the upper part of the screen and his instructions continue from the tablet instead of your phone. You open the side menu in the app MORT opens up and tap on the TASKS tab. There you see two tasks.

REPAIR AND CLEAN THE BROKEN SERVICE BOTS.

CLEAN/REPAIR THE DAYCARE ATTENDANT.

Each of these S.T.A.F.F. bots have been pulled out of service for various reasons. It is your job to get them back in working order. You will find more detailed instructions if you open up the details by tapping on the task title.

You did as he said and sure enough, there was a general procedure list of how to go about testing each bot and how to mark them off as completed with repairs.

“Okay, sounds straightforward enough. Are they organized in any certain way? Do I just leave them where they are after I finish fixing them?” You ask.

Great, looks like you are all set. I will alert you when it is time for your scheduled dinner break. Happy fixing!

“Wait! MORT, I have questions first.” You tap frantically on his face at the top of the screen but there was no response. “Aaaand he’s gone… Some helpful companion you are.”

You calculated out a plan of attack to work your way from one end of the room to the other. You approached the first bot in the very back left corner of the room and got to work. Following the task outline, you rummage through the contents of your toolkit until you pull out a cord and plug it into the FazPad. You then insert the other end into a small port on the front of the bot’s ‘legs’. A pop-up immediately opens up once you finish plugging into the bot with an error message that states ‘Error 418-16: Obstruction To Wheel Movement’. You peek down at the wheels and see that a rope or yarn of some sort had gotten caught in the wheel that jammed it and prevented it from moving.

“I’m guessing that is the obstruction.” You mumble to yourself and get to work untangling the material from the wheel. It took longer than you expected, not being able to lift the bot to rotate the wheel made it difficult to maneuver. You had to manually push the bot forward and backward to get the rope out. It was a struggle but you managed, you were not a weakling by any means but Fazbear Entertainment certainly didn’t build these service bots light.

After 30 minutes of maneuvering each wheel, you finally get all the mystery rope out. You plug the FazPad back into the bot and run a diagnostic test through one of the side menus. The bot springs to life and begins moving backwards and forwards, then side to side, yanking the cord out of the port in the process. It then starts rotating all of its limbs and joints to test for further obstructions or damage. After the bot finishes flailing about, it turns and looks at you.

“DIAGNOSTIC TEST COMPLETE. ERROR MESSAGE CLEARED. NO FURTHER ERRORS DETECTED, RETURNING TO LAST SCHEDULED ROUTINE.” It said before zooming past you and out the door, almost running you over in the process.

“Okay geez! You’re welcome. You could have just asked me to move first!” You shout at the bot frustratingly. You pick up all the rope pieces and toss them in a nearby trash bin. “These bots need some serious manner programming updates.”

You move on to the next bot and repeat the same process. This bot however had an error message about its joints not functioning properly and upon closer inspection, you found dried slime on the neck and shoulder joints. When you removed the chest plate, you sigh in anguish seeing that the dried slime had covered the inner circuits as well. After finding a bucket and some cleaning supplies in a nearby janitorial closet you start chipping away at the slime. Peeling off what you could with a flathead screwdriver and using a rag damp with cleaner to rub away any unchippable pieces.

After you inspect your work and run the same diagnostic test on this bot, it rudely zips past you after completion just like the previous bot had. Though this time you made sure to stay out of the way so as to not get bulldozed by the zooming robot. Some bots seemed easy to fix while others looked a bit harder. You notice one had the wires yanked out of its arms to which you would have to rewire back into place. Another had it’s arm hanging on only by the wires, it also had shoe marks all over the chest plate so you figured a child had pulled on the arm while pushing off the bot’s chest with their feet.

Just as you were about to start the next bot MORT alerted you it was time for your dinner break. You brought some frozen pizza rolls for your meal tonight, you did however question if they were safe to eat after seeing the state of the microwave in the break room. Why did everything for the human staff barely work or look like it had been fished out of a junkyard?

You decide this time to eat your dinner in the confines of the break room. You didn’t want to risk Freddy or Chica approaching you just so you could make a fool of yourself all over again. You just played a few games on your phone after eating, but when it was 7pm MORT rudely shuts down your game of 2048 to which you had protested to louder than you expected; you were just about to beat your own high score. You grumpily head back to the bot fix-it room and continue working.

Time went by fairly quickly while you worked, you had turned on some music and were in a groove. You had taken apart and built bots like this all the time in college so fixing these robots was like a walk in the park. You had finished a total of 8 bots and with the two you had finished before dinner, that brought the total to 10. In the background you vaguely hear the sound of an announcement stating it was 30 minutes before closing time. You checked your phone and sure enough, it was 9 pm. For a slow start, the day had zoomed pass.

You were getting your FazPad set up and ready for the next bot when MORT pulls your attention away.

Amazing job, you’ve fixed quite a few S.T.A.F.F. bots and are right on schedule for tomorrow. With time coming to a close, please divert your attention to the second task on your list. You will find the daycare attendant in Kid’s Cove within the Superstar Daycare.

“M’kay.” You reply, happy to move onto something other than these unsettling bots.

You pack up your tools and leave the majority of the cleaning supplies on a box in the room. If there was one thing you noticed while fixing the utility bots, it was that they were disgustingly dirtier than they looked. Could be from being in service or could be from being in this room for who knows how long. You stuffed a spray cleaner and a roll of paper towels in your bucket and made your way to the daycare. On your stroll there, you pulled up the same app on your phone and read the details under the second task. The only procedure listed was to clean the animatronic’s exterior and fix any issues detailed by the attendant himself.

When you spot the daycare you notice the gate door is closed to the front entrance. You look around to spot an employee entrance somewhere but are unable to see one so you decide to get a closer look at the gate. When you approach, the gate automatically opens itself and you wonder if it could have sensed an employee approaching or if MORT had somehow unlocked the gate. Either way you enter and make your way down the stairs to the play area entrance. You push and pull on the door but it was locked, must be to keep the kids inside and prevent them from sneaking out during operating hours.

“Um… Hello? How do I get in if the door is locked?” You ask aloud, hoping your companion would give you instructions but no one answers. Suddenly the lock is switched and you are able to push the door open. “Thank you” you say as you walk in, thinking there was someone on the other side of the door but you found no one. The place looked empty and deserted.

“Okay… that door had better be automated by you MORT or that is a little freaky.” You mutter to yourself. You make your way further into the daycare and look around but can’t see anyone or any bots either. You set your bucket down next to the security desk and pull out your phone. You review the task to verify you are in the right place which of course, you are. There isn’t another daycare in the building.

“MORT am I in the right place? There isn’t anyone here, I don’t see the daycare animatronic either.”

No response.

“Hey, I’m asking you an important question.”

No response.

“Helloooo?~ Kind of missing a key component of my next task here. MORT.”

No response.

“Tch… Some ‘advanced’ Ai assistant you are…” You grumble in defeat.

“HEEELLLLOOOO!~” Shouts a voice right behind you. You jump whipping yourself around to see the culprit but manage to trip over your bucket in the process. You landed on your butt rather hard, but luckily the soft padded floor made the landing less painful. You stare up at the looming figure in front of you.

“Oh goodness me, so sorry about that friend! I didn’t mean to scare you!” The figure says, lifting you off the ground with surprising force and strength. “Okay maybe I did mean to scare you a little, but we didn’t think you would go and trip yourself though. Silly!~”

You stare up at the Daycare Attendant animatronic as he beams down at you with a smile. His permanent facial expression was a little more unnerving up close than when you saw it from a distance. He stood at least a foot or more taller than you which surprised you, seeing him with the little kids made him look tall but you didn’t realize he was actually really tall even for adults.

“It’s okay, no harm done. When I couldn’t find you I should have guessed you’d pull a prank on me, Mr Jester.” You respond.

“Mr Jester?” He laughs. “Haven’t been called that before. My names Sun, or Mr Sun to the little ones.”

“Well, nice to meet you Mr Sun.” You reply and he chuckles again.

“Sun will do just fine, friend. No need for formalities.” He says, waving his hand as if shaking away the thought.

“Okay, Sun it is then.” You smile. “I’m here to-“

“Oh we know who you are!” He interjects. “You are our new daily visitor! Our own personal robot doctor, our Bot-Doc!” His head bounces left and right, emanating joy and you find yourself holding back a chuckle. “Sorry for interrupting you, we have just been so excited to meet you since we saw you yesterday. It’s always so exciting to meet new friends!”

“Wait, you saw me? When?” You ask, confused.

“When you were wandering around, we saw you watching us with the little ones. They got us good at that game of tag huh? They are sure fast when they want to be.” He makes a motion with his two fingers as legs running.

“You saw that? But I was only there for like…. A few minutes or so?” You begin to wonder just how long you were lost in thought staring at him. Hopefully not long enough to be creepy, though you didn’t think he would see it that way.

“Not to worry, we are programmed with wide view lenses and sensors. Helps us keep track of all our friends while we play.” He assures you, tapping on his temples near his ‘eyes’.

“Right, I knew that.” You smack your forehead with your palm. “Duh. I read that in your manual.”

“Oh ho~ Reading the manual? You are a studious one, aren’t ‘cha?” He leans in and boops your nose to which you find yourself giggling aloud softly. He had quite the animated personality, the kind that you don’t have to keep appearances up with. No wonder the children seemed to love him so much.

“Yeah, it was required by management but I do enjoy reading about how things work. Especially if it is something I am going to be working with often.”

“Well we hope we will be something you enjoy working with often.” He places his hands behind his back, still slightly leaning forward and beaming at you. “You are staying right? Longer than a week?”

“Uh yeah… I hope so.” You say, baffled by the question. “I mean I wasn’t planning on leaving anytime soon if that is what you’re wondering. Why?”

“No reason, we just want to see how long we have to be friends.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Not a thing! Shall we get started?” He responds promptly, straightening his posture to a full stance. You could tell he was diverting the subject but you weren’t quite sure as to why. It was quite a strange question to ask.

“It’s been a while since we’ve had a good maintenance routine so I’m embarrassed to say we are probably quite filthy.”

“You don’t look that dirty to me.” You inspect him, looking up and down.

“You are kind, we have kept ourselves as clean as we can but it is difficult to get into the harder to reach areas with fingers made for tickling.” He moves his hands in front of him and wiggles his fingers.

“Haha, you’ve got a point.” You grab your bucket and pull out the cleaning supplies, placing them on the counter of the security desk. “So I’m supposed to just clean you then fix anything you say needs fixing. Is that how it goes?”

“Correctamundo mi amigo!” He begins clapping. “First time and you already know the routine, I’m impressed!”

“Well there isn’t much to the routine so there’s not really anything to remember anyway.” You shrug.

“True, true.” He nods. “But even the most simple tasks can be the most difficult.”

“Are you saying you are going to be a difficult patient, hm?” You tease, referring to his earlier comment.

“Wha- me?! Of course not!” He retorts back, folding his arms in a very dramatic way. “I would never purposefully make things difficult for you in order to get you to stay longer. I’m offended that you would even think that I would behave in such a manner.”

“Oh is that so?” You place your hands on your hips playfully. “Well we better take our time then huh? I just can’t imagine what I’d do if we finished early.” You say, playing along.

“Really?!” He asks, almost surprised by your response.

“Sure, I’m not in any rush. If you really want to be friends then we better get to know one another. Right?” This seemed to excite him and his head spins around a few times while he bounces happily. He looked like a giddy child on Christmas morning which made you laugh.

“Yes of course!” He exclaims, continuing to bounce back and forth on his feet.

“Alrighty then Sun” you say as you turn and grab the paper towels and spray bottle. “Let’s get to work shall we?”

“Rightyo commander!” He salutes which makes you laugh again. His silliness was refreshing, especially after being by yourself in a tiny room for most of the day with expressionless bots.

You quickly found out that Sun was right, he was a lot dirtier than he seemed. There were some smudge marks from shoes or toys that took quite a bit of elbow grease to get to come out. Although he looked descent from afar, being up this close made you see all the scratches and dents in his outer casing. Small ones, barely noticeable, but nonetheless still there. There was some paint in between his finger casings that looked like it had been there for a while, you had to remove them in order to get them cleaned properly. Luckily the paint was washable paint and not something more permanent.

You began from the bottom and worked your way up. After a few minutes in you both sat down on the floor, you found it easier to work that way with the amount of scrubbing you were doing. You tightened any loose joints or bolts as you went, it made it easier to keep track of where you had worked and where you hadn’t. With the extent of detailed cleaning you were doing, you ended up pulling a garbage can over near you instead of continuing to make a dirty paper towel mountain.

While you worked, you and Sun talked and shared experiences with each other. You asked him what it was like working in a daycare as an animatronic attendant and he talked about his work and the children he was able to have fun with. He ranted about some of the activities they had done in the past month and how excited he was about getting to see new little children every day with the growing popularity of the pizzaplex. He was very much like a child on caffeine, he had a million thoughts all at once and his stories bounced around quite a bit but you were still able to make sense of them. Even though he was practically bursting at the seams with energy he had remained surprisingly still while you worked.

He asked you about what you loved to do, where you had been, and what college was like. He had so many questions about everything you had to say. He wanted to know everything about each story you had to tell. It was almost as if he was trying to build that experience for himself. What did it feel like? What did it smell like? What emotions did you feel as you were doing certain things? He was very thorough. When he asked about your family you found a way to distract him by diverting the conversation elsewhere. Your childhood was NOT something you were excited to share with anyone, not even an animatronic.

Before long you found yourself working on his face. Cleaning around his features was a bit awkward though you didn’t know why. You knew he didn’t mind and he couldn’t feel you spraying cleaner onto his eyes but it still just didn’t feel right. After taking one last look around his head you felt satisfied with your work and threw the last paper towel in the trash bin.

“And done.~” You say, nodding your head in approval. “You have been decontaminated and are free to go, I release you from cleaning quarantine.”

“Wowie!” Sun says, standing up and doing a few full body spins, inspecting himself. “We feel brand new! Look how shiny our casing is, you can almost see your reflection in it! This feels so great, so refreshing! Thank you, thank you!”

“No problem, it looked like you really needed it anyway.” You state as you stand up and stretch.

“That we did, we appreciate your hard work friend.”

“Mmhm.” You smile as he continues to admire himself.Your chuckle under your breath and begin cleaning up. You put the trash bin where it was and place the now barely full cleaning bottle in your bucket. You would have to find another one if you were going to continue with the rest of the S.T.A.F.F. bots tomorrow. Just as you were pulling out your phone to the app you felt a hand on your shoulder.

“Friend. It is late, you should be getting home.” Sun says.

“Late?” You wonder. When you check your phone it was only 10:20pm. “I mean it’s only 10:20, I still have 40 minutes before I clock out. I don’t have anything else on my task list so-“

“I insist.” He interrupts, a slight agitated tone to his voice. “It will take you a while to gather your things and get to the front gate. Mustn’t be late, remember?”

You turned and stared at him, his mannerisms had done a 180 in a matter of seconds. If you didn’t know any better, you would say he was nervous. If robots can even get nervous.

“Yeah, I know. But it’s not going to take me 40 minutes to get to my locker. I still have plenty of time, so I can stay and chat for a bit longer.”

“No.” He responds quickly.

“No?” You ask, getting more confused. “But weren’t you just saying earlier you wanted me to stay and talk as long as possible?”

“Yes and you have done that, very well too. We’ve enjoyed getting to know you but really. You NEED to leave the daycare.” His other hand had made its way up to your other shoulder, he was now gripping both of your shoulders softly.

“What? Why?”

“We um… we have to close up! Yes! Close up we must. Yep, yep, yep! The daycare closes up at 10:30 pm.” He asserted as he leaned down to grab your bucket, ushering you towards the door with his other arm.

“Close up? I didn’t hear anything about the daycare closing up earlier.” You try to recall but can’t seem to.

“You’ve been studying too hard my friend, you must have missed it! The daycare always closes 30 minutes before closing time.” He reminds you.

“Before the pizzaplex closes to the public, yes I know that. If I needed to be out of the daycare by a certain time, MORT would have told me.” You pause, second guessing your last statement. “Okay maybe not… He tends to miss the important details when giving instructions.”

“Well he must have forgotten to mention it, he is a busy Ai after all! Keeping all the employees on task. Hard work it is, that’s for sure.” By now he had managed to push you to the door and was standing there holding it open for you.

“Until tomorrow, friend.~” He tried to say happily but anxiety was creeping more and more into his words with every word.

“Yeah, okay… See you tomorrow then Sun.” You say, taking your bucket from his offered hand. He then waves as he closes the door and the lock automatically engages.

You take your time as you make your way through the pizzaplex. You put your bucket back on your desk and then maneuvered your way to the break room to get your things out of your locker. The whole time as you journeyed to your destinations you rehearsed in your head the interaction you had with Sun that night. How he was so eager to meet you and spend time talking with you but then almost shoved you out of the daycare when it came time to lock up. It seemed like the animatronic liked to keep things organized and clean from how he was describing his interactions with children as you conversed. You guess that included schedules as well.

You make your way to the front gate and your favorite partner makes one last appearance for the night.

Congratulations on finishing your third day on the job. Enjoy your night and we will see you again tomorrow.

“See you tomorrow ‘buddy’”.

[witchersmistress]

Henry Cavill Graham norton part 5 finale part next

You couldn't help but giggle as you ran from the big burly man, you could hear his footsteps behind you, he wasn't running oh no, the man was stalking you. Ducking around a corner to catch your breath, he called out taunting you. “ little princess where are you hiding” there was a primal tone in voice that set your heart ablaze, your skin damp with sweat and excitement as you darted out behind the man. With a low rumble of a laugh, he turned and lunged for you, missing by several inches. A peel of laughter escaped as you made your way to the second set of stairs at the back of the house. Suddenly it was quiet. Stopping just at the base of the stairs you look around each side to see if you could find him. With the creak of a floor board under his weight you found him. Making a split second decision, you dart up the stairs as he comes up behind you. Hitting the top of the stairs, bolting to the right into your library room. Ducking behind the couch you breathe, your dress clinging to you like a second skin, you peel it off your body and throw it over the couch, crawling on your hands and knees to the next room.

Tucking into the corner of the bookcases you listen to, his voice rang out “ Oh little one did you leave this for me?” with a deep laugh. His footsteps grew louder as he stalked his way into the room you were hiding in. trying to curl yourself up in as tight of a ball you could. “Hmmm, my my, is the little princess a bookworm?” you heard him pull a book from the shelf and opened it. A sultry chuckle escaped his lips, “Well I'm learning more and more about you little princess. Peering  around the corner, you saw he had removed his shoe socks before chasing you, his dress shirt was untucked and a few buttons undone at the top, in his massive hands he held your copy of Haunting Adeline by H.D Carlton. 

Jerking back into your hiding spot you listened and waited with baited breath. After several minutes have passed, bravely sticking your head around the corner he was gone, only the book and his shirt were left, peering around, crawling from your spot, to the chair where his shirt was hanging from and your book opened up to chapter 16. Kneeling in front of the chair, you pick up the book and begin to read it. So engrossed in what you are reading, ignoring the prickling sensation of your skin. “Found you little princess” dropping the book and looking back to catch this Greek god of a man standing before in nothing but his dress pants with that massive bulge and a smile that had you dripping. Moving a strand of hair from your face “playtime is over, your coming with me”

[maddieautobot273]

Silk & Cologne (16)

A Miguel O’Hara x OC Series - Link to AO3 (X)

Chapter 16 - Normal

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x Female OC

Words: 2.4K+ words

Warnings: PG but no major warnings for this one! 

Summary: Lisa tries to move past what happened the night of the attack, but can’t deny that things are changing. 

//////

It’s been about a week now since the apartment attack. There hadn’t been any news from Earth-1997 so it was business as usual for the Spider-Society again. Miguel would monitor the multiverse for any signs of anomaly activity, send in a team to deal with it or lead his own team personally. Whenever I was present when Gwen or Hobie or Peter B. would get the call to join in on a mission, my eyes always sparkled with wonder when a portal opened up and I watched them run through. I became curious what the other dimensions would look like. 

Maybe if I trained enough, I would get to be a part of all this? 

But whenever I’d catch Miguel staring at me, noticing the wonder in my eyes, there was an expression that he made that I couldn’t quite decipher. But I knew it was something along the lines of too dangerous. I had previously asked Peter B. what fighting in other dimensions was like, and he said if it weren’t for Miguel’s invention of the Gizmos or day passes, your atoms would break apart bit by bit, slowly killing you. 

“Your atoms don’t exactly feel too jazzed about being in another dimension,” as he once put it. 

Miguel had also briefly explained the process to me the other day during one of our work out sessions. He said that I was almost about to experience the “glitch” process myself while Spider-Doc was tending to my wounds after he and Peter B. first rescued me. When I realized it all, it started to make a little more sense. 

Now I understood the look in Miguel’s eyes a bit better. He didn’t want me to get myself killed. Understandably, I knew where he was coming from. I’m still fresh with my powers, despite my training and progress to control them. But I still had hope.

In between training sessions, I’d work on composing various routines like the one I displayed to Miguel during our mock battle. Just in case. Spider-Man had to actually start fighting villains eventually. Maybe not in my dimension, as per our agreement, but perhaps in Nueva York? Maybe another another dimension?

I had thought about asking Miguel to teach me how to fight, well, properly anyways. I knew with each Spider they had their own unique fighting style. I could mix my dance moves into my evasive maneuvers, but for my attacks? It could work, but be a little tricky. Which is why I need to learn some actual fighting moves. 

In between his Spider-Society duties, Miguel would take a little time out of each day to come visit me in my dimension and help me clean up my apartment. Some of the furniture was salvageable and easily repaired, while others weren’t as lucky. I could understand Miguel’s frustration when he tried helping me fix my bookshelf after I had gathered and cleaned up my toppled book collection. 

“Miguel, are you sure it goes that way?” I asked him as I read through the old instruction pamphlet I had saved from the movers. 

“Pretty sure,” he nodded firmly. “Any other way looks stupid,” 

I glanced back at the instruction manual, looking at the pictures of the display before looking back at the shelf. “Only if you’re sure,” 

“Lisa, really, I have a PHD in biology, engineering, physics, I think I know how to fix a bookshelf from IKEA,” He chuckled with a warm huff, his chest puffing up with pride as he worked. 

He carefully forced the piece in, snapping it in place. He wiped the sweat off his brow as he sat up. His holographic outfit was a blue tank top with beige cargo pants and white sneakers. He stepped back, admiring his work before looking over at me. 

“So?”

“I think you fixed it!” I beamed, smiling at him. “Now I can finally put these books away,” 

Until the board cracked, and toppled down, creating a domino effect that knocked over the other boards. My mouth gaped open at the sight, no words coming out. I glanced over to Miguel and I swear I could see his left eye twitching. 

He huffed, dropping the hammer on the floor. “That’s it, I’m buying you new furniture,” 

“Miguel, it’s okay, you don’t have to do that,” I spoke quickly, waving my hands frantically to try and ease him. “Besides, I can’t pay you back,” 

“Don’t worry about the money, really, it’s on me,” Miguel reached out and used his hand to gently pat my head, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear. “Relájate y deja que yo me ocupe, mi Mona Lisa,” - Relax and let me take care of it, my Mona Lisa 

I raised a curious brow at the man as my hand gently caressed his. “How much are we talking here?”

“Lisa, don’t worry, really,” Miguel chuckled softly as his fingers latched on to my hand, squeezing them rightly as he lowered his hand from my head. “Besides, I already ordered everything and they’ll be delivered within a few days,” 

“¡¿QUÉ?!” I gawked at Miguel as he brushed past me, grabbing his water bottle. - What?!

“Did you just gawk at me in my mother tongue?” He smirked at me. 

“Well, with us spending a bit more time together, can you blame me for picking up on some phrases?” I crossed my arms at him. “How much was everything?”

He gave me a side eye as I watched him gulp down his water, the adam’s apple of his throat bobbing with each gulp. When he pulled away, he sighed deeply, the drink refreshing him as a small trail of water traveled down his chin and neck. “That’s classified,” 

I whined, telling me to cut me some slack. All he did was laugh at my reaction. 

“Maybe it hasn’t occurred to you that I’m doing this out of the kindness of my own heart?” I smirked. “Maybe because I simply want to?”

My cheeks turned a light shade of pink at the realization that he was going out of his way, willingly, to make me happy. I felt spoiled. 

“But–”

“No buts about it, my Mona Lisa,” He grinned as he gently flicked his finger on my forehead before leaning in closer to my face. “Suffer,”

That all happened yesterday and the butterflies still hadn’t gone away. I had noticed he only acted this way around me when it was just the two of us. While at the Spider-Society, he of course would still be nice to me and offer me warm glances every now and again, but he would always keep things professional while working with the other Spiders. In a sense, I understood the switch and actually agreed. 

There could be a million reasons as to why Miguel chose to act the way he did. I was just happy he felt okay to relax a little bit and let himself go around me. I decided the next time I saw Miguel, I’d put my foot down and ask him to teach me how to fight. 

Anything to try and get that hopeless feeling out of my body after what happened at the apartment. I could feel the pulse of my web fluid quaking in my wrists during that entire encounter. The way that evil Miguel, no– Chameleon, was his name, taunted me, toyed with me. Never again. I’ll never give another villain the satisfaction. 

These thoughts had been plaguing me for the last few days, most noticeably during dance practice. Most of the teams had broken off to practice their work in smaller studios throughout the building, while my team and another worked in the main studio. We were doing our warm ups to some of METRO’s other music when I faltered suddenly and missed a step. 

“Okay, time out,” Kasey spoke up suddenly, signaling to stop the music. “We need to host an emergency team meeting,”

Toya paused the music as Hannah reached out a gentle hand, helping me up to my feet. I smiled warmly at the gesture, silently thanking her. 

“Coach, we’re gonna take a 15 in the break room,” Kasey yelled over towards our coach who gave her a thumbs up as an acknowledgement of her request. 

“Come along, our fearless leader,” Kasey took my wrist and pulled me along as the five of us left the main studio. 

“What’s going on? Did I do something wrong?” I asked nervously. 

We entered the break room, Touga immediately making a b-line for the vending machines as his eyes wandered over the various snacks and drinks. Kasey sat me down on a chair while the others sat around me at a round table. 

“Something's been bothering you, Lisa,” Kasey stated. “What’s going on?”

“What do you mean?” I shrugged my shoulders, trying to appear as normal and calm as I could. “I’m fine,”

“No, you’re not, I think we’ve worked together long enough for me to tell the difference, Kendrick,” Kasey shot me a stern look but mixed a playful grin. 

“Did something happen?” Toya asked as his brother neared carrying an assortment of snacks and drinks. 

“You can tell us, Lisa,” Hannah pleaded gently, her blue eyes pouring into mine. “We won’t judge you,” 

I glanced around at their worried faces before I sighed in defeat. “I can’t hide anything from you guys, can I?”

They all shook their heads. 

I sighed again, my arms leaning against the table as I met their gazes. “Last week, there was a break in at my apartment,” 

“What?!” They all gasped, staring at me with wide eyes. 

“They didn’t take anything did they?” Hannah asked with worry as she placed a gentle hand on my shoulder. 

“No, but my apartment was and still is sort of trashed,” I sighed deeply as Touga handed everyone a snack bag and some water. He took pity on me and gave me an extra snack. “They weren’t trying to take something from the apartment. . .”

“What were they–” Touga began to speak until he stopped speaking mid-sentence, the realization hitting him as he sat down. 

“Oh shit, Lisa, I’m so sorry that happened to you,” Toya’s voice lowered with a sympathetic look in his eyes. 

“Why didn’t you tell us, girl?” Kasey asked. 

“I didn’t want me telling you guys to affect our team’s morale, and. . . I felt scared and ashamed that it happened,” I sighed, leaning back in my chair as I opened one of my snack bags and started munching on the mini pretzels. 

“You weren’t by yourself, were you?” Hannah asked with concern. 

I paused for a moment. If we created this ruse for the police, do I keep it going with my friends? I couldn’t lie and tell them that I was alone and make them even more fearful. But I couldn’t tell them the truth and say that Spider-Man from another dimension saved me. 

“No, I wasn’t,” I shook my head. “My. . . boyfriend saved me,” 

“Boyfriend?” Toya and Touga repeated at the same time, sounding surprised. 

Kasey nudged Toya’s side with her elbow to shut him up before looking back over towards me. “What exactly happened?”

“The attacker pinned me down and before he could do anything else, my boyfriend tackled him and told me to run. They got into a fight and the apartment got trashed in the process,” I explained softly. 

“So he sent the creep packing, mad respect,” Touga nodded his head with an approving look in his eyes as Toya mimicked the gesture. 

I smiled gently at them. I very much approved as well. 

“Well we’re glad that you’re alright, Lisa,” Kasey smiled warmly. “From now on, no more keeping secrets from us, alright? We’re a team, you know,”

“Not just a team, we’re friends!” Hannah beamed as she hugged me. “Friends help each other out, right, boys?”

“Yeah! If that creep even thinks of showing his ugly mug again, give us a shout and we’ll show’em not to mess with you!” Toya stated as he punched the air. 

I looked out at my friends and I could feel a warm bubbly sensation come over me as I looked at their smiling faces. “You guys are amazing, you know that?”

“What are friends for?” Kasey grinned. 

“Hey, there’s this new ramen shop that opened not too far from here. We should all go after practice today,” Touga offered. 

Hannah smiled, clapping her hands together. “That is a wonderful idea!”

I smiled at my friends as we moved on to other bits of conversations during the remainder of our break, munching on our snacks. It felt good knowing I had another group of people I could trust that I knew would have my back. A group of friends that I didn’t need to travel to another dimension just to see. 

///////

Earth-423 

Princess Petra soared through the air on her web sling, her silk skirt of her dress retracting into a shorter one as the web fabric silk morphed into her spider suit. The moon was full out that night as the silk of her webs glowed in the moonlight. Her spider pet, Webster, clung tightly to her shoulder as she swung across her kingdom. 

She had sensed a disturbance with her Spider-Sense, as Petra made her way to the forest. She caught herself on a tree branch, hunching over as she hid herself within the leaves as she found her prey. 

A strange fiend appeared through a magical portal. It appeared to be some sort of animal, with razor sharp teeth, a long tongue and covered in this black goo. Why, this creature looked very similar to Venomilcent, a horrible beast that had plagued her kingdom in months passed. But this creature clearly wasn’t the monster she was familiar with. 

“Oh dear, Webster, I do believe the danger we were warned about is upon us now,” Petra groaned with worry as she glanced down at her spider friend. “Of all the days to leave behind that handy bracelet he gave me,” 

As much as she hated leaving the monster to roam free in the forest, Petra knew she wouldn’t be able to fight that thing along. She wouldn’t just need the help of the royal guard, no, she needed their help to stop it and send it back from whence it came. 

“Come on, Webster, we must hurry and summon Lord O’Hara and his Society of Spiders!” Petra swung back the way she came. 

Meanwhile, Venom was left to roam the forest, searching for fresh prey to feast on.

////

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[artificialinsanity]

Hunting the Missing Link

Story Summary: When a mysterious individual crash-lands in the sleepy town of Starlight Edge, four unassuming individuals begin on a journey to find its origins, kickstarting a chain of events that would alter thier lives forever.

Chapter Summary: When Emily gets a new car, she takes them for a road trip to all thier favorite places, as a start to the most interesting day in the rest of thier lives.

[Next]

Story under the cut.

Just a few hours drive west from Empire City lies a small, sleepy town by the name of Starlight Edge, with a population in the low ten-thousands. Though small, the town is quite a hotspot for tourism due to the Starlight’s Edge of which the town is named after - a massive 100-foot cliff overlooking a series of 16 waterfalls flowing into a deep lake, known by the residents as Lake Selene.

A few miles away from Starlight Edge, on a street leading in from the town, lie 4 houses in a cul-de-sac, though only one has a vehicle parked outside - a yellow sports bike. Inside this house, a young hyena woman is tinkering with something while the 8am news plays in the background.

“In global news, Sonic the Hedgehog appears to have stopped the evil Doctor Robotnik yet again in the outskirts of Metropolis Zone,” reports the newscaster. “Sources say the Doctor, quote, ‘Didn't put up much of a fight.’”

“Why does this idiot keep trying these stunts!?” shouts the hyena to an audience of none. “By this point he should KNOW it’s not gonna work!”

Dressed in black with the proper safety equipment, the hyena is hard at work; soldering electronics together with a tutorial on her phone. Electronics lay all over her “garage”, from busted CD players, to old computer motherboards, to failed projects, parts and tools litter the place like they’re a rare commodity. Outside her work space, her living space isn’t much better, with clothes scattered all across her furniture, mainly centered around a single chair in the back corner.

Next to her TV is a slew of various SEGA video game consoles - Genesis, Saturn, and even Dreamcast - and next to those is a shelf full of video games, all of them about Sonic the Hedgehog. From the first one on Genesis to the last one on Dreamcast, she has them all. She even has the ones released after that, but those are on her PC, which lay just next to the shelf of video games.

With one final solder, the hyena raises her safety goggles to her forehead, eager to test out her contraption, when she hears a knock at the door. Steadily, she removes her safety gear, attaches her contraption to her wrists, and begins preparing herself.

This perky young hyena girl has big dreams, big ambitions, and a surprisingly ample bosom. Her fur is a creamy tan, like a warm latte, contrasting well with her clothes dark as night, much like the markings dotting her fur. She wore a light, yet tight black tank top with a cute yellow star adorned on its front, a black-and-purple tartan skirt with a purple waistband, some tight black sport shorts, purple combat boots that go up to her knees, and a crop top leather jacket with pins of some of her favorite musical acts - Neck Deep, State Champs, and All Time Low. Her eyes were a much darker shade of brown than her fur, much more akin to the trunk of an old and world weary oak tree. The contraptions she placed around her wrists were gold ring bracelets. Upon her hands, she also wore fingerless gloves, revealing the black tips of her fingers; and also had small purple glasses, which she wore on her nose. As for the girl’s name? It was-

“Stella!” barked a deep female voice from beyond the door. “You ready yet? I got something to show you!”

“Just a minute, Emily!” Stella yelled in response. Quickly turning off the TV, she rushed out the front door, eagerly awaiting what the day may bring.

“There you are, slowpoke!” said Emily. “What took you so long?”

“Sorry! I was fixing up my Light Bracelets.” Stella replied. “Why’d you call me out, exactly?”

“Come on! I got something to show you!” exclaimed Emily, clearly excited; which was rare for the porcupine, as she mostly stayed to herself. Her quills were a deep maroon, like autumn leaves, with her pupils a fiery red. She wore indigo boots with white stripes on them, jean shorts, and a pink tube tank top, with an indigo vest overtop. She was also one of the few members of this group to wear eyeshadow, hers being a striking lavender in color. She also had white gloves with spikes on them, as well as spiked bracelets around her wrists.

Emily took Stella two houses down, where a rounded object covered in abstract haphazard D.I.Y. canvas rest just out front, where it didn't just an hour ago.

"What's this?" questioned Stella, knowing full well what might be under the sheet, but feigning ignorance for pleasantries.

“Can’t say right now,” replied Emily. “Gotta wait for Lyla and Vicki first.”

Emily looked around.

“...Hey, where are Lyla and Vicki?”

Just then they noticed two figures racing down the street, one of them hovering just above the ground. As the figures got closer, Stella and Emily noticed it as a cheetah and a crow, rapidly approaching. As they got even closer, the cheetah slid to a stop just in front of the others, while the crow flew face first into a telephone pole. Everyone winced.

"Ooh, you okay, Vicki?" asked a concerned Stella.

"I- I'm fine!" said the timid crow, holding her head, dizzy. "Just a small bump, is all."

"I'll trust you on that, Victoria." Stella then replied.

Victoria is a shy, mild-mannered crow. Shorter than the rest, she wore a pristine white dress overtop her black feathers, though now its formerly spotless appearance has taken on dirt, grime, and a small bit of snow from the wintery ground. She doesn't seem to notice, or care, though. She's spacey - appropriately keeping her head in the clouds and rarely focusing on the situations at hand. Her hair feathers are always frazzled, despite her keeping them in a ponytail, and her boots are as black as her feathers, making them almost invisible unless you're focused on them. She also wore, on a chain around her neck, a small yellow heart-shaped gemstone, burning with a small flame to match, kept inside a small iron cage. Supposedly, in the time she’s owned it, Vicki has never seen the flame go out. 

"Probably shoulda warned ya about the pole, Vic. Sorry!" Said the cheetah in an oddly chipper tone.

"Yeah, maybe you should have, Lyla. She could have gotten seriously hurt!" Stella yelled

"Don't yell at her, Stella! I'm fine!" said Vicki in response.

Lyla is an upbeat, chipper cheetah with a heart of gold and balls of steel, despite being a girl. She will charge into any situation and will not stop until she either saves the day, or gets so hurt she has to retreat. She's impulsive, sporty, and VERY friendly, but has a fear of heights. She's also somewhat inattentive, often not realizing the true gravity of a situation. She wears a navy blue sports bra and sport shorts, as well as sneakers in the same color. Her short, manic hair is a rich, creamy brown, that falls overtop the rest of her bright yellow fur, and her eyes are a deep, rich blue that almost pierces into your very soul. She smiled, rubbing the back of her head in a bashful manner.

"You know I worry about you, Vicki," Stella said. "I just don't want you to-"

"I get it, mom. You don't have to lecture me, I'm fine," replied Vicki in response.

"Now's not the time for arguing, you three!" exclaimed Emily. "We can worry about this later - I have something to show you all."

"I take it it's underneath that car-shaped cloth?" Stella pointed.

"I told you not to peek, you jerk," Emily teased.

"Oh yeah, sure, I'll just NOT look at the biggest thing on the street right now. Sure. That sounds reasonable." Stella jokingly replied.

"Alright, I get it!" Emily jeered. "You've made your point."

"Alright, so what's under the cloth? Better be something good," Stella asked. "If I find out you bought a damn mom car, I'm going to be most displeased-"

"Don't worry, princess," Emily teased, "I know your taste in cars is very exquisite."

"It's a symbol of EXPRESSION!" Stella yelled.

"So you've told me a thousand times," Emily responded, rolling her eyes so hard they could drive down the mile street to Starlight Edge and back. "Don't worry - I picked out my favorite. And it should be one you'd enjoy."

Emily grabbed the cloth, said "I present to you:", and yanked it off with force, revealing a red Mitsubishi Eclipse sedan, with a vanity plate reading "VELS"

"VELS?" questioned Stella.

"It's our initials," responded Emily. "Vicki, Emily, Lyla, Stella. V, E, L, S."

"Chaos, why didn't I pick a name with a better initial?" joshed Stella, snickering. "Like Andromeda, or Aurora?"

"Oh yeah, because 'VEAL' is SO much better-" Emily teased.

"At least it's a real word!" yelled Stella in response.

"Whatever," brushed Emily. "So, you guys wanna go to the shops, and take this puppy for a spin?" She said, twirling a keychain on her index finger.

"YEAH!" Lyla, Stella, and Vicki all cheered in unison.

"Great! Let's go!" Emily exclaimed, excited.

Emily hit a button on her keychain revealing possibly the coolest thing about her new car - It was a convertible.

Everyone's eyes lit up brighter than the moon.

"Wait," Stella puzzled, "would putting the top down really be a good idea? It's January."

"Well, it's not snowing right now, is it?" Emily responded.

"Hmm, fair enough."

They all jumped into seats - Emily took the driver's side, as she's the only one legally allowed to drive; Stella took the passenger's side; Lyla sat behind Emily; and Vicki sat behind Stella. With everyone seated, Emily put the key in the ignition, turned it, and sped off down Parker Street into Starlight Edge.

It was a cold January day in Starlight Edge - the town had just been hit with 6 inches of snow just a few days before, and the town itself lit up brighter than ever before with the reflective snow on the ground. The small town adores its winters, having wonderful celebrations with each one. Just in from Parker St. is the shopping district, starting with Saturn Blvd., the biggest street in shopping in Starlight Edge by far, with stores, fast food restaurants, and even the Hogpine Mall, still kicking despite the decline in malls all over the world. Stella likes dropping in from time to time to pick up a CD or 2. After the shopping district is the residential district, where the citizens of Starlight Edge, well, reside. There's a few small shops in here - small mom and pop shops, convenience stores, bars, and some more fast food joints, but most of the space is taken up by housing. And just beyond the residential district is where the tourism takes charge - on the far East edge of town lies a renowned observatory, public pools, springs, parks, forms of entertainment like sporting fields, amusement parks and arcades, and beyond even ALL OF THAT lies the ever famous Starlight's Edge. Though that's MILES away from the town for the safety of its citizens, of course.

As the red Mitsubishi Eclipse pulls into town, the question arises among its passengers: Where to first?

"First things first, I should REALLY pick up Vimu," Stella said first. "I wanna have him with me, and make sure he's okay!"

"Then I wanna go to the bar!" Vicki yelled.

"Are you even old enough to drink?" Lyla asked, half joking.

"Oh, I'm not interested in alcohol!" Vicki responded. "I wanna swindle some suckers at darts and billiards! It'll be fun!"

"After that I wanna go to RCS Field on the East End," said Lyla. "My 1200 meter record is 25:58, and I wanna see if I can beat it!"

"Good luck with that!" scoffed Emily. "The only person who can run 1200 meters faster than 25 seconds is Sonic himself!"

"You don't know that!" yelled Lyla in response.

"Okay, but before you do that, I wanna buy CDs at the Hogpine Mall!" Stella butted in. "RCS Field is on the other side of town! It'd be a long drive there and back!"

"Stella, it'd be far quicker to get your CDs on the way back," Emily said. "If we're going to the far side of town anyways, better to get it out of the way as early as possible."

"Yeah, I guess you're right," Stella said. "After, then."

"And then after all that we can get some fast food and go home," said Emily. "Sound good to you guys?

The car said "Yeah!" in unison.

"Great, then that's our day. Hope you're all ready!"

"I know I am!" said Stella.

"In it to win it!" said Lyla.

"I'm ready!" Vicki chimed in.

And with that, thier day had truly begun.

- - -

Thier first destination was Clysedale Care Clinic on Stellar St., the street Stella got her name from. The clinic takes care of all manner of creatures, from Chao, to Wisp. They're very trustworthy, with plenty of glowing reviews, which is why Stella has enlisted thier services for a while now.

Emily pulls the Eclipse up front, and Stella gets out.

"Wait here, guys," Stella said. "I'll go in alone."

She walked in the door, and the bell rang to signal her presence. Upon walking up to the counter, she was greeted by one of the Clysedale siblings - Ezrieal.

"Welcome to Clysedale Care Clinic!" They say in that customer service tone. "What can I do for you today?"

"Hi, Ez!" says Stella. "Is Theo in today? I'm here to pick up Vimu."

"Ah, of course! Let me call them out!" Ez says, before disappearing into the back. After a few seconds of muffled shouting Stella couldn't understand, a tall figure emerged from the back. They had glasses and brown hair, and just kind of looked tired all the time. His eyes quickly looked to Stella, seeming to know exactly what she was thinking.

"You're here to pick up your Chao, yes?" They said in a sleepy tone.

"Y- Yes, sir." Stella stammered, slightly intimidated. Dr. Theo always gave her a weird feeling.

"Let me get him for you then," He replied, disappearing into the back.

After a few seconds, they re-emerged with a white robotic chao with a screen for a face.

"Vimu!" Stella shouted, and gave him a big hug. "Oh, I'm glad to see you're okay!" Vimu made a cute little chime in response.

"Your Chao was a tad bit… unorthodox for us," Dr. Theo said, "But he appears to be perfectly healthy. No slowdown, no clutter, no viruses. One of the healthiest we've ever seen."

"Thank you for your services, Dr. Theo!" Stella exclaimed. "How much do I owe you?"

"The standard fee, my dear," Dr. Theo replied. "30 Rings an hour."

She paid the fee - 2,160 Rings. The price was steep, but it was her own fault for not coming to get her Chao sooner.

Theo did some counting, gave a satisfactory nod, and put the rings in the register on the front desk. "Once again, it has been a pleasure doing business with you, Miss Stella."

"I'm just glad the work you do here is so sublime!" Stella said. "Thank you!"

"Any time, my dear. Do come back if you require our services again."

"Of course! You guys are the best in town! Have a good day!"

"You too, Miss Stella."

With Vimu in hand, Stella walked out of the clinic, and got back into the car. Lyla and Vicki immediately greeted Vimu with pets and treats.

"Weird group of folks, those guys," Emily made an off-handed remark.

"Yeah, but they do good work, though," Stella replied. "They're not hurting anyone, so I don't judge."

"They've got some odd vibes about them, though," Emily said.

"Oh, I'm sure it's nothing, Emily," Stella assured as Emily pulled out from the clinic and got back on the road. "Where to next?"

"Mighty Bar & Grill," Emily said. "Vicki's request."

Vicki pumped her fist in response.

That would take a trip to the residential district, which, like most things in this town, was relatively uneventful. After arriving at Mighty Bar & Grill, on the corner of Calmac St. and Griffith Rd., the band of four went in. Lyla, Stella, and Emily sat at the bar - Vicki had other plans.

"Don't you think it's a bit early to get sloshed, ladies?" the barkeep, a British mouse with the nametag Carrie queried.

"We're not here for alcohol," Emily responded. "These 2 are underage, and I'm driving these idiots."

"What? I'm 21!" Stella interjected. "I just personally abstain."

"Fair enough," replied Carrie, pulling out a glass. "What'll it be?"

"You got any sports drinks?" said Lyla.

"I'll take a sparkling water," said Stella.

"Orange juice for me," said Emily.

"Very well," Carrie responded. "It should be ready in a few minutes. In the meantime, have some fun!"

Which is what Vicki was already in the process of doing. She was haggling as many patrons as you could ask for at 10 in the morning to play her at various games, claiming she could beat them with her eyes closed. She'd even take bets - sometimes up to 500 Rings! Her strategy was foolproof - deliberately missing the first few shots, but then cleaning house after turn 3 or so. Darts was easy - with a steady aim, and enough precision, she could hit the bullseye or triple 20 every time. Pool was a bit more difficult, requiring a bit more skill to be able to handily win without sight. But Vicki's been at this for years - she's studied the slight variances in every pool ball, being able to pinpoint each ball without even knowing what color they are. Sure, for every 5 wins at pool, she had at least one loss. But that was the thrill of the game to her.

After getting thier drinks, Stella, Lyla, and Emily all went off to do thier own separate things. Stella perused the various arcade games at the bar, playing Sega classics like Hang-On, and House of the Dead with Lyla joining in. And when she wasn't playing with Stella, Lyla was indulging in some of the other games at the bar, namely the basketball hoop. She missed nearly all her shots, but she had fun at least. Emily, however, just sat at the bar, drinking her orange juice and scrolling social media on her phone. She didn't want to get too involved into anything, because she had to drive these dorks across town when this was over.

By noon, Stella and Lyla had gotten bored of the activities, and Vicki was finishing up her escapades, beating some poor sucker at Darts 501 for the fifth time in a row. He wasn't even drunk.

"Come ON!" he said, agitated. "There's no WAY this is legit! You HAVE to be cheating!"

"Maybe it's just a skill issue, Charles," Vicki said to the patron, spinning a dart on her finger. "I'll be taking those 50 Rings you wagered now."

"NOT till I have proof you ain't cheatin'!" Charles yelled in response.

"Forget it, man!" another patron yelled from across the bar. "She's legit. Just give her the money."

Charles, reluctantly, reached into his pockets and gave Vicki 50 Rings.

"Thanks for being such a good sport, Charlie," Vicki said smugly. Charles just glared in response.

"Yo, Vic!" Lyla said to her. "You almost finished yet? We've been here almost 2 hours now!"

"Yeah, I'm done," replied Vicki. "Let's go, then! Don't keep me waiting, slowpokes!"

As they went to leave the bar and reenter the car, they had a small conversation.

"What's got you so cocky?" Stella asked.

"Feeling like I'm on top of the world with all those victories!" Vicki responded.

Vicki accidentally walked into the door on her way out, causing the rest of the group to wince, though Stella winced the hardest.

As they got out of the bar, Stella asked Vicki "You okay?"

"I'm fine!" Vicki retorted. "That was all part of my scheme, anyways…"

"So how much did you make out with this time?" Emily inquisited.

"Meh, only around 850," Vicki responded, disappointed. "We gotta come back here after 8pm when everyone's sloshed - I'll make out with plenty for sure!"

Vicki giggled to herself, and everyone else smiled and joined in, laughing and giggling all the way to the car, where they then headed to RCS Field on the East side of town.

RCS Field was a hybrid football and track field, where the local football teams regularly practiced. While physically large, the field itself drew few visitors, namely due to the small size of the town, and the fact that the only games that really took place here were local anyways.

Lyla didn't really care much about the local football team - she was banned for being too violent as a kid anyways. What she cared most about was the track.

Olympic sized at 400 total meters around, Lyla practices her speed here many times a month to ensure she's in top shape, still trying to beat her best time - A little over 25 seconds for 3 laps around. She's tied it 3 times since she set it, but never passed it. She's hoping today she can break it wide open, though at this point, even a millisecond faster would be enough for her.

The track was in pretty good shape, as the architects had the foresight to put a glass roof overtop the field, so that the players would be unaffected by the weather, though Lyla did have to brush a small bit of snow off the track, as it had started snowing by this point in the day..

Lyla lined up at the starting area, with Stella on stopwatch duty, and Emily and Vicki on the sidelines for moral support. Stella was just glad she wasn't the one running.

"What are you gonna do when you beat it?" asked Stella. "You'd need some kind of a celebration."

"Think I might load up on lasagna and pig out for a bit." Lyla replied. "But that's IF it's possible."

"Alrighty then," Stella said. "Ready?"

"As I'll ever be."

"GO!" Stella shouted as she started the timer. And with that, Lyla was off to the races, literally. She had a bit of a rough start, as she typically does, but after a few minutes, she put her arms at her sides with her fists in front, and ran as fast as she could, completing 3 laps in 31 seconds.

Lyla was a bit upset, but she didn’t let it get to her - her first run wasn’t going to beat her record anyways. So she lined back up at the start, and ran the track again, and again, and again, over and over, slowly but surely closing the gap. 30 seconds. Then 29. 28 seconds. 27…

While Lyla was running, Stella began shivering. It was the middle of winter, and the thickest jacket she packed was a leather jacket that didn’t even fully cover her torso.

“Brrr! Is anyone else feeling a bit chilly?” She said to the rest of the group. Vimu huddled up next to her to try and warm her up.

“Maybe you should have packed for the weather, then,” Emily said, pulling out a puffy jacket.

“I don’t feel cold!” shouted Vicki.

“Here, take this then.” Emily threw a wool blanket at Stella. Stella nodded as thanks.

Lyla kept running, over and over running 3 laps around the track, closing the gap ever further, down to a 26:01, then 25:98.

“Just a little bit more!” Lyla exclaimed. “I think I can do this!”

Lyla lined back up at the start, determined to run as fast as she ever had. Stella yelled “Go!”, and Lyla was off, running at speeds she hadn't reached before. However, halfway through her second lap, she tripped on her feet, falling to the ground. However, making a miraculous recovery, she rolled into a ball, got back up, and finished the rest of her laps, finishing with a final time of…

“25:5…9.” Stella read off the stopwatch.

“59!?” yelled Lyla. “I tripped and fell, and was able to miss my record by a single millisecond!?”

“Well, this rounds up to 2 places, and milliseconds are counted in thousandths,” replied Stella, “So it could be anywhere from 1 to 10 milliseconds.”

“So? I missed my record by 10 milliseconds! By tripping and falling!” Lyla screamed. “Can I get a redo on that? Please?”

“Sorry,” Emily butted in. “You’re out of time for today. It’s 3 pm - The sun’s almost setting.”

“Damn it!” Lyla yelled. “But I’m coming back to tackle this tomorrow! I know I can do it!”

“Yeah, but we have other things to do today,” Emily replied. “Sorry.”

Everyone slowly walked back to the car, Lyla upset, but regaining her composure shortly after. Getting back in the car, they realized it was snowing harder than before. Not snowstorm levels, but definitely more than the light sprinkle of earlier in the day.

Emily drove the car back to the west side of town, but stopped at a grocery store instead of the Hogpine Mall.

“You didn’t clear this destination by us beforehand,” Stella said. “We cleared our destinations with you.”

“I know,” said Emily. “I just need to pick up a few things real quick. I’ll only be a second, I promise.”

And with that, she got out of the car and went inside. Stella, Lyla, and Vicki were left in the car to do whatever they wanted, though for some reason, Emily left the top down on the car. After 20 minutes, Emily still wasn’t back yet, so everyone was just doing their own thing. Lyla was playing a Game Boy Advance, Vicki was reading a book, and Stella was listening to music. Suddenly though, something caught Stella’s eye - someone shivering in a back alley. With the snow, Stella knew they wouldn’t last long out here, and considering the person was shivering in an alley, they likely didn’t have any place to go. Stella looked around for some way she could help, and noticed a taco truck on the other side of the street. After quickly instructing Vimu to stay put, Stella began to hop over the car door, when Lyla took notice of her.

“Where are you going?” she questioned.

“I’m just going to do something real quick,” Stella responded. “I’ll be right back.”

And with that, she hopped out of the car, and ran to the taco truck.

“Ahh, if it isn’t my favorite customer!” the truck owner said to her. “How many will it be, Stella?”

“Five, please, Donnie!” Stella replied.

“And I take it 3 more for your friends?” Donnie joked.

“No, just 5,” Stella said with a giggle.

“Coming right up!” Donnie said. “They’ll be done in just a minute, so don’t go anywhere!”

“OK!” Stella responded. In the wait she was able to get a longer look at the stranger in the alleyway - They appeared to be a female wolf with black, matted fur. She was covered in dirt and snow, and shivering from the cold. Her clothes; a red flannel, black jean shorts and combat boots, and white fingerless gloves, were tattered and torn, not nearly in enough shape to survive the winter. She had a gray muzzle and yellow eyes, and looked clearly distraught, almost on the verge of tears. Stella felt really bad for this woman.

“OK, kiddo!” Donnie said, startling Stella. “Here’s your tacos!”

“I’m, uh, still 21 years old, but thank you!” she said in response.

“Just because you’re 21 doesn’t mean you’re not a ‘kiddo’, kiddo,” responded Donnie. “25 rings please!”

Stella paid the 25 rings, and proceeded to move to the other side of the street, slowly. Lyla caught a glimpse of Stella, and noticed her going into the alleyway.

What are you doing, Stella? Lyla thought to herself.

Stella approached the mystery girl slowly, so as not to startle her. She was whimpering, rubbing her hands together next to a small fire for warmth. As Stella got close enough to the girl, she began to take notice of her, at which point Stella outstretched her hand and offered a taco.

“Here,” Stella said. “Take this.”

The girl did not. Instead she growled, bit Stella’s hand, and sprinted away on all fours, behind the store and out of sight of Stella.

Weird girl, Stella thought to herself, as she walked back to the car.

“So what happened?” Lyla asked Stella as she hopped back into the Eclipse.

“Not much,” Stella lied. “I bought tacos though!”

“Sick!” Lyla responded.

“Your hand!” Vicki pointed out, noticing the bite mark. “What happened?”

“I saw a homeless girl in the alley, and offered her a taco, but she bit me and ran away,” Stella answered.

“You gotta be more careful around strange girls, Stella,” Emily responded, exiting the store. “Is it infected? Do I need to take you to the hospital?”

“I’ll probably be fine,” Stella responded. “Just gotta wash it and bandage it.”

“Nuh-uh. Not good enough for me,” Emily responded. “I’m taking you to the hospital.”

“Alright, fine,” Stella responded. “I bought you a taco!”

“Sick” Emily said as she took it, and began the drive to the hospital.

- - -

“See, Em? I’m fine!” Stella said as they left the hospital on the east side of the residential district It was just about sunset now after everything that had happened throughout the day.

“Better to know for sure than to assume,” Emily retorted.

“But I’m going to be fine,” Stella said, pointing finger guns at Emily with her newly bandaged hand.

“Be more careful next time,” Emily scolded with a sigh.

“Whatever,” Stella says in response. Vimu made a happy noise.

Emily looked up into the sky. “It’s getting late,” She said.

“Maybe we should be heading home?” Vicki added.

“Good idea! My legs could use a break from all this walking!” Lyla chimed in, stretching.

“Were we out all day?” Stella questioned. “Maybe we should make tomorrow a bit more low-key.”

“Good idea, ladies,” Emily chimed, pulling her car keys from her pocket, pleasant with how the day went on. “Get in. Let’s go home.”

The drive home was less talkative and less chaotic than the rest of the day had been. Everyone was mostly just talking about some of the things that happened today, and new interests of thiers - but softly so as not to disturb Vicki, who had fallen asleep in the back seat. Suddenly, the topic turned to sports, and Stella tuned out, looking out the side of the convertible car that still had its top down. She began looking at her bandaged up hand in the fading sunlight, and for a brief second thought she caught a faint glimpse of the mystery girl again, but when she turned to look again, the girl was gone, almost as if she was never there.

“You okay, Stel’?” Emily asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Stella sheepishly said in response. “Must be a bit tired, is all.”

“I feel you there,” said Emily.

By the time they had arrived home, the sun had fully set. Checking her phone, Stella noticed it was 5pm, which made sense, as it was late January. Everyone had gotten out of the car, and was about to head inside and turn in for the night, when Stella looked up and noticed something.

A meteor shower! Here! The Starlight’s Edge would probably be a better place to view it, but nobody wanted to miss a single second. Light shows like this were a rare occurrence, especially meteor showers and shooting stars! Everyone began “ooh”ing and “ahh”ing at the pretty lights and colors, and quickly began pointing out pretty stars. Stella even pulled out her telescope, The Constellation as she called it, to get a better view.

“I like that one!” Lyla said, pointing to a star that was shooting especially fast.

“That one’s very pretty!” Stella said, pointing at one of the brighter stars in the sky.

“I think that one’s pretty cool,” Emily said pointing at a large star.

“That one’s not even moving!” Stella responded.

“Should we wake Vicki up?” Lyla inquired.

“No, let her sleep,” Stella replied.

“Uh, guys?” Emily asked, slightly concerned and pointing at a particularly large star.

“Yeah, we get it, Em. You like the large one,” retorted Lyla.

“No, I think she’s onto something,” Stella said, now worried. “Is it getting bigger?”

“Hit the deck!” Emily yelled, causing everyone to scatter into different directions. Which was a good call, as the “star” crash landed in front of the Eclipse, tearing open the pavement and waking Vicki with the noise.

“What’s going on?” Vicki slurred, bleary eyed.

“We don’t know!” Stella yelled.

“Stay calm, Stella!” Emily commanded.

“Looks like… a person?” Lyla noticed.

To which she appeared to be right - as what has just crashed into the pavement is no ordinary debris or meteor. Sure, it LOOKED almost otherworldly, as it sparked on its way down, but what remained in the crash site looked far too…

…Mobian…

To Be Continued...