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celestialmango · 3 years

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Unwilling prey, homebrew humanoid mimic pred, fear play, soft vore, safe vore, fatal implied (for your party), reader insert, DnD type setting

🥭🍡🥭🍡🥭🍡🥭🍡🥭🍡🥭🍡🥭🍡🥭

Your heart pounds in your chest and you're gasping for breath as you lean against the cave wall and collapse, breathing hard you can help but think how stupid you were to agree to follow your group members as they wandered off from the main group and from the designated trail to explore, you're lvl ones, it's bad enough you guys got literally sucked into the campaign you were playing, DM included, then they wanted to split the party, but they wouldn't listen to you when you expressed how bad of an idea it was to explore an unknown dungeon if you split the party. Unlucky for you that had them decide that nobody was gonna pair up with you and now you're in this mess.

You had bumped into one of the DM's homebrew monster races a fucking humanoid mimic based on your DM's idea of "ok how about a mimic but this type of mimic is sexy and can be born from other races though still be full mimic but they at first they look completely normal and can shapeshift only the lower half of their body and ears with only minor changes to the appearance of their torso like if they try to turn into a fully scaled mer they're successful with their ears and tail but only get a few scales on their face and chest, and like, they take the abilities of the creatures they turn into and they can be any alignment"

And then your remember what else your dm said "I'm going to use them in vore campaign as a pred" a predator species, this is the vore campaign, what the fuck do you do now?

Your palm covers your mouth as you inhale sharply, your DM still controls certain aspects, you still have to role against the DM though they're trapped with the villain of the campaign they can still tell you when to roll and you can still tell them your role with some form of dice telepathy you don't really understand.

when the party split the DM made you make stealth checks when you entered the dungeon, you failed and as a bard the DM had you playing music which you asked if you were at least going to play well, you rolled a Nat 20 for that, and the DM told you if you lost the dice and didn't roll when you needed to you may end up screwed. the mimic ate yours. How? Well.

----

You failed a perception check and sat on the random chest you found, you heard and voice tell you it sounded nice, you react by immediately jumping off it as it opens your dice bag fell to the ground with one of the mimic's hand snatching it off the ground, their crossed arms resting on the rim of the chest and propping their chin up with a mischievous grin on their face they address you," oy, why ya stop playin?" Failing to get a response out of your stunned form they push themselves up before they toss the bag in the air a few times, they dangle the bag in front of them " ya need this aye?" You nod feeling tense, the mimic grins, opens their mouth and tossing your dice bag in their gaping maw before snapping it shut as you stare in horror at the disappearing bulge of your dice as the mimic swallows them.

"Phooo,how bout ya come n get em? Go on n reach in." they place their elbows on the rim of the chest and prop their head up their maw gaping open once more while they look at you deviously, you turn tail and run.

---

You grimace, if you don't get those dice back then...., taking a deep breath you turn around and walk back into the room, they're still waiting and grinning at you while you approach, "change ya mind?" They open their mouth again, you kneel and slowly shove your hand down their throat,their throat is relaxed, it feels like you're shoving your arm into a slimy tube lined with balloons, you reach in all the way to your shoulder you should have reached the dice by now, it's then you remember what else your DM said

"they'll have like six stomachs, and like four are bigger on the inside, 2 are not connected and are just filled with treasure n shit then there's and with the other four only 2 are digestive and the digestive ones are connected to each other and vise versa with the non-digestive ones, the top ones are stretchy and durable enough to hold a god damn chimera without much trouble but their stomach would look about half the size of what they ate because bigger on the inside and the bottom ones are like hammer space, once something is in you wouldn't even see a bulge, the friendly acting ones like to trick their targets into feeding themselves to them, only-"shit, oh fuck.

Your face goes pale and your eyes widen , you jerk your arm out to your elbow before the mimic's throat captures it in a vice grip, they grab your other arm and shove it in too gulping thickly you're pulled back in up to your shoulders, you stare at their face in terror, their eyes tell you all you need to know, they're going to eat you, there's no escape.

They grab the back of your head and shove your face into their salivating maw swallowing harshly, you're cries are muffled by the slick flesh pressed against your face, they grab your belt and pull , a sharp gulp forcing you in up to your hips, the mimic shifts their shape as they heft your kicking legs in the air giving themselves legs as they stand lifting themselves up and grasping your kicking legs in the air, they swallow and as your thighs pass their lips your hands push through a ring of flesh. Squish tight by thick muscles pulling you down you try to think of anything that might help you in this moment, a few more swallow your head enters the chamber.

Shit you can't think of anything, it's only a few more rounds before you're forced to curl up inside their gut, from the outside it looks as if they had swallowed a beach ball,you feel something hard under you and you grasp it, pulling it out from under you, you discover your dice bag, you roll to while you attempt an escape, you don't meet the DC, the only thing that escapes is air as the mimic let's out a belch loud enough to echo for several seconds.

They slap their hand on their stomach,"Ur-up, oy now, ya don really think tha would work did ya? Once I swallow something it ain't comin out easy, feel free ta keep tryin tho, ya squirmin feels great." Shit, you roll to persuade them to let you go as you struggle, kicking and pushing at their stomach wall, you tell them you didn't come in here alone, that your party will no doubt come investigate where that echo came from.

You fail once more,you can't see the wild and vicious looking grin that forms on their face, "a meal an a fight, sounds great ta me"shhiiiiit they're one of those types, you feel them move around a bit, you try to remember the last thing your dm said about the humanoid mimic's race, only, only what? "Only thing that can save you at that point is making it appealing to keep you alive as one of their many items they swallow, like give them something no one else can do" something no one else can do, the homebrew spells you chosen.

'what if I told you I had the ability to summon food and drink?' you feel them stop "I'd say ya were bullshitin me." 'but what if I can prove it?' You feel a hand slam down on your back and wince "then prove it, how bout ya summon me a beer?" 'i will need you to press a waterskin against your stomach.' "oh?" 'it's not a long range spell,' you feel them press something again their stomach and cast the spell hoping it will work through flesh, the mimic looks at the waterskin sceptically as it fills, they uncork it and lift the spout to their nose, they take a sniff and don't find anything off about the liquid so they take a swig, then proceed to down it.

You tense hearing them gulp and get ready to become drenched in alcohol...but it never happens,no drink comes raining down on you, you're confused they said a meal and a fight, you, weren't you the meal? What's going on?

"Ah, tha's some good stuff." They pat their gut, "was jus gonna take ya in for yur bounty but now I changed ma mind-" 'I have a bounty?' You interrupt, the mimic scoffs "wha ya didn know?" 'no, why do I have a bounty on me?' "oh yur serious, ya know tha group uh nobles ya pranked a tha had ya run out uh towns a while back?" 'oh them......I regret nothing...but wait, you said a fight and a meal after I told you about my party, what did you mean by that?' you ask apprehensive, "what ya think I meant?"

Oh, oh no, you shift uneasy, 'you're planning to fight and eat my companions aren't you?' "maybe I am,wha ya gonna do bout it." ....well the DM did say that it appears even if you end up dying here you can always roll-up a new character and come back as long as someone from the original group is still alive but you won't remember how you died.

'I'm in your magic damage resistant stomach, I don't think there's anything I can do except offer to summon food so you won't eat them.' they pat their bulging gut, "nice try but I ain't a bout ta give up on a fight an a squirmin meal, as fur wha I'm gonna do with ya now" you hear a groan beneath you and their gut clenches pressing down on you as you begin to slip through to the stomach connect to this one you hear them say "can na have ya givin me way, so I'll have ta swallow ya deeper."

You take a small plummet before landing in something soft and wet, you quickly cast dancing lights, you see you landed in a bunch of fabrics and other soft items, you think you see a few pillows and you have a bit more room despite being shoulder deep in fabrics and pillows, the sphincter above you looks twice your size now, damn you think, they really are bigger on the inside.

You sigh feeling a bit bad knowing you accidentally sent what is most likely a very high level mimic after your party, but hey, you did warn them splitting the party was a bad idea, you can't hear much now except the groans of their organs around you, knowing your not actually in any danger now you lift your arm out of the fabric and slam a fist against one of the fleshy walls surrounding you in frustration, their stomach jostles and you clap your hands over your ears at sound of their booming laugh "still got sum fight in ya ey? An after I made ya all nice n comfy, gave ya my bes room, could a put ya with all the gol n weapons after all." They joke, and you sigh again and rub their gut wall, "tha's better. I'm gonna enjoy having ya round,"

That sounds like they're still not going to let you go....fuck maybe you shouldn't have let them know you could be a source of free food and booze, on the other hand the nobles probably would have did you in for the embarrassment you caused them, guess you're stuck with a mimic bounty hunter, by the time they get here again from the starting point you're sure the mimic will be long gone and they won't be able to find you.

#safe vore #soft vore #v*re #v0re #fatal implied #unwilling prey #fear play

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thetriggeredhappy · 3 years

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okay forgot I sent you that ask cause it was like the middle of the night but the homoeroticism was because I was playing on hightower as scout and this blu sniper was legit the best huntsman sniper I've ever encountered. he'd get me as I was leaving spawn and I'd get him when he wasn't paying attention. funniest fucking thing was I missed my jump into their middle spawn area and landed below the wall there, so I just tucked myself in the corner between and wall and the crates, looked up and waited for him because I knew he saw me. a second passes and then there's an arrow in the wall next to my head. I back up, he's behind me looking at the arrow, he looks at me, I look at him, then the arrow, back to each other, then we're both asking how the hell he missed from point blank. either way I sort of wanna turn that into a fic but idk. not sure why I'm telling you about this but I figured you'd probably find it funny

writes a fic abt a theoretical in-game situation because im a fuckin. goobus

(warnings for canon-typical violence, consider this one pg-13)

Thump. “OW, FUCK!”

Scout clamped a hand over his mouth a moment too late, eyes wide.

Okay, so, shit. Not ideal. That was a twisted ankle—hell, maybe even a fracture—and here he was, alone by the BLU restock room, having just completely and utterly failed what was supposed to be an easy jump. The easiest jump.

And that bastard BLU Sniper for sure just probably heard him.

He pinned his shoulders back against the wall, eyes up towards the ledge above him. Okay, he had to think fast. He still had his gun, even if ammo was looking a little… thin at the moment. He wasn’t defenseless. He just had to play it cool. Keep his head on his shoulders. Which, yeah, was kind of the problem lately, since apparently the BLU Sniper was just a real douchebag with that bow and arrow, but whatever.

But the pain was distracting enough, and his focus narrowed so firmly to the ledge way up above him, that he didn’t process the sound of footsteps before the sound of a hard THUNK just to one side of his head, making him jump half a foot into the air and yelp in a way that was extremely un-manly.

And then he looked to his right at the arrow embedded into the wall a foot from his head, and then he looked at the BLU Sniper standing not even two dozen paces away.

A beat of pause.

“How the fuck did you miss?” Scout asked, utterly baffled.

“Bugger off,” the Sniper barked, looking similarly confused.

“No, seriously, how’d you fuckin’ miss?” he repeated, standing up and turning to look at the arrow again. “What the shit? My guy, I could’ve thrown it overhand and hit closer than that.”

“Well how does a bloody Scout miss a four-foot horizontal jump to flat ground?” he challenged right back.

“Oh, fuck you. I’m not the one who couldn’t hit a still target at eight fuckin’ yards.”

“I’m not the one who fell eight feet and yelped like one of those yappy sorts of dogs!”

“I’m not the one who wears sunglasses in the middle of the fuckin’ night.”

“Oh bugger off,” the Sniper spat, jaw tight, “now you’re just getting personal.”

“Wanna talk about personal?” the Scout challenged, moving forward, feeling particularly bold just then as he processed that closer range meant he was in less danger when it came to a Sniper. “If we’re talkin’ about personal, we can talk about how you’re gettin’ all personal! What’s with the target on my back, huh?”

“Well why are you wasting time bolting up to beat my head in instead of doing your buggering job?” the Sniper challenged right back, eyeing the way the Scout moved in but not backing down.

“Hey, you’re the one shooting at fast targets for no reason!”

“No, you answer the damn question,” the Sniper sneered, taking a step in as well, and it made Scout stutter to a halt, suddenly much closer than he was entirely on board with now that he noticed the knife hanging on the man’s hip. “What’s got you picking fights with blokes a kilometer out from the damn fight? You got a bloody death wish?”

“Maybe it’s just ‘cause I like you so much,” Scout teased in a sing-song voice, and didn’t anticipate the hard shove to the chest that sent him stumbling back, and it caught his leg wrong, made him hiss through his teeth at the sharp spike of pain, and too late he recovered his balance.

“Not so brave now, though, are you?” the Sniper jeered, fronting on him now, and before Scout could shift his weight to defend himself another hard shove sent him stumbling back further, off balance again. “Caught out neck-deep on enemy territory with a bum leg, and there goes that bravado, doesn’t it? Maybe now you’ll learn to mind the attitude.”

“Ain’t ever minded my attitude before, why would I start today? Because some fuckin’ punk gets his kicks playing with his food?” Scout mocked, absolutely committed to not looking like a coward. This Sniper wasn’t gonna get that satisfaction. “Where’s that professionalism now, huh, crocodile man?”

“Are you ever going to shut your damn mouth?!” the Sniper growled, and every nerve in Scout’s body screamed ‘danger’ at his expression, his body language, everything. Back literally to a wall, the tail of that arrow from earlier in his periphery, the Sniper closing in. “Will you just shut up already?!”

“Make me,” Scout sneered, and the Sniper practically snarled, surging forward. He processed the painful click of teeth foremost, but his limbs caught up faster than his brain, and within seconds he had arms up around the Sniper’s shoulders, yanking him down to kiss him harder, longer, and man, he was so fucked.

This was like fighting too, fighting to hold on tighter, to pull back to breathe. He was being crushed a little, ribs aching, but it was good, the fighting.

He pulled back to gasp hard, and coughed a little at how the closeness didn’t let him get the whole gasp’s worth of air, and a second gasp followed at the feeling of the Sniper pushing his head back, setting his mouth in against his neck and getting to work. Scout huffed for air, digging fingertips in to grip at him, lips tingling and aching. He was pretty sure he could taste blood, but he wasn’t sure whose.

Wait, what the fuck was he doing?!

Like ice water, brought to his senses, he caught sight of the arrow out of the corner of his eye. It was easy to reach, but a little harder to yank out of the wall, and then easy to jab down somewhere into the Sniper’s ribcage.

A choked noise, the Sniper rearing back despite Scout’s clinging arms, and he didn’t see him reaching for the blade but he felt it lodged down through his shoulder.

 God fucking damn it, he had good aim. Already his vision was swimming and going dark. He didn’t have long.

“Kill ya later,” he managed to quip, grinning as wide and smug as he could manage, and it was hard to tell, but at least he probably got the Sniper too from the way the man teetered. And he tried for a wink, but waking back up in the Resupply again, he couldn’t be sure he managed it.

Oh well. He’d have next time. And if he wasn’t determined before, he was now—there would be a next time.

#tf2 #team fortress 2 #sniperscout #speeding bullet #shut up me #everybody talks #my fanfiction #que?

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smarchit · 3 years

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Look Around, Look Around pt 6

Summary: You escaped an abusive marriage, pregnant with your husband’s child. He sends a bounty hunter after you to bring you back. Everything changes. Din Djarin/pregnant!reader, no use of y/n

Word count: 2.9k

Warnings: Pregnancy/related topics, implied/referenced rape, mentions of abuse, blood, labor

Notes: Blown away by Tumblr’s response to this tbh. I’m absolutely overwhelmed by all the kind comments <3

He was supposed to take you back to Sorgan after that job. Supposed to take you back and let you spend the last few weeks of your pregnancy in comfort, let you give birth there in safety.

You managed to convince him to take you to a few more planets under the guise of wanting to see if there were any cities with salt baths that would help your swollen feet and legs. He knew you were lying through your teeth, but he never said anything one way or the other.

Now at a little over eight months pregnant and with your own gravitational pull, you walked through a vibrant market place of a large, exotic city during the height of their local fertility festival. You had been given baskets laden with blankets, food, and natural home remedies for easing the pain of birth.

People threw colorful powders and fragrant flowers in the streets at one another and it was extremely difficult not to get caught in their crossfire. You were certain that you were covered in vibrant color - you may have even been the target on more than one occasion because of your pregnancy. Not that you minded. You were having too much fun.

The little one was captivated by brightly colored dancers that spit fire in brilliant arcs across the path. The bells on their ankles caught his attention more and whenever one would cartwheel in front of his pod, he would make a grab for them, despite the gentle scolds from Mando.

You currently were sitting at a round patio table at an outdoor café. Lively music from a nearby band was muffled slightly by the crowd enough that you could speak without losing your voice.

"This is amazing!" you said to Mando, who looked incredibly out of place amidst bright colors and bare skin of the locals. He shifted in his seat and you knew he was scanning the crowd for potential threats. It wasn't personal, and it wasn't anything against the planet or its inhabitants, but more just who Mando was as a person.

Good gods, did the man ever relax?

Mando had ordered a cup of soup for the child, and expressed his displeasure for you turning down food.

"You need to eat something," he said firmly, straightening his back.

"I'm not hungry," you sighed. "The moon is currently displacing my vital organs."

"Your moon is exactly why you have to try to eat something," he said with a sigh. He shook his head and looked back over at the child, who was glancing between the two of you. When Mando looked at him, he smiled and babbled.

"She's moving around a lot in there today," you groaned, rubbing one side of your belly. "Take it easy, little moon. We're not going anywhere."

"Must be getting cramped in there," Mando hummed without looking back at you. He did another once over of the crowd and then sighed.

"What's wrong?" you asked.

He shrugged. "Just too crowded."

"Not a people-person, Mando?" you hummed.

"You wouldn't be either if you were me."

You supposed that was true. Even a few months ago you wouldn't have come to a place like this where bodies touched and jostled on either side of you. You got comfortable, but you imagined if you were in his boots, you would hate places like this. Too much chaos. Too many things that could go wrong.

"We should go," he said after a moment. He grabbed a basket and helped you to your feet before guiding you through a dip in the crowd.

It took a while to reach the hangar where the Crest was located due to the throng of bodies in your way.

Once you arrived back, Mando handed you a towel to wipe powder from your hair and clothes.

"The puck got activated," he said grimly as he locked the hatch.

You were shaking flower petals from your hair and the smile instantly dropped from your face.

"What?"

Mando turned to you. "I knew it was too easy. He let you go too easily for that to be the end of it."

You walked backwards until you found a seat and lowered yourself into it. Your heart pounded in your ears and you barely registered his words.

Your husband knows exactly where you are.

He knew what you were doing, where you were going, he might even know where you planned on giving birth. Would he attack then? When you were raw and vulnerable, bed soaked in your blood and eyes wild with instinct?

Like a caged animal. Though injured animals will do anything to protect themselves.

"Hey, hey, don't give out on me," Mando said loud enough to draw you from your fear. He grabbed your shoulders and shook you gently so you would look at him. "You're safe with me, okay? I'm not going to let him take you."

"Why is he-- Why is he doing this?" you whispered as you felt tears start to fall. You could barely speak. The thought of him finding you touching you, putting his hands on you... On your baby. It made you sick. It made you scared. It made you angry.

"Because he's a coward," Mando said softly, guiding your face back to look at him when you glanced away. "He's small; he has to hurt others to feel better. You are safe. You and your moon." He placed a warm hand on your belly. The baby flip flopped in response.

"Please don't let him get me," you begged. "Promise me. Not me. Not my baby."

Mando looked at you and nodded. "I promise." He leaned up on his knees and pressed his forehead to yours. He held the position for a moment before he got to his feet.

"We're leaving this planet right now," he said. He picked up the baby and set him back in his pod and turned to set coordinates.

"Where will we go?" you asked, suddenly feeling like the smallest person in the galaxy. "Where will we go that he can't find us?"

"I have a few places in mind," he said as the ship dragged itself out of the planet's atmosphere. "Safe places."

"Sorgan?" you asked hopefully.

He paused for a minute. "Sorgan isn't safe. If he knows you were there he'll have people there waiting."

You held on tight as he punched in the coordinates for some unknown planet in on the pad.

What would you do if it came down to capture and return?

You couldn't help but cry. You looked down at your stomach and cupped both hands around it.

"I'm so sorry, little one," you whispered.

***

A few hours later, Mando dropped the ship out of hyperspace. A planet lay before you, dark and unfriendly looking in the blackness of space. There were a few lights from cities spread out in the far reaches of the large sprawling continent, but beyond that, you could see nothing.

"What is this place?" you asked.

"Arvala-7," he replied. "I had a... Friend who lived here. Worked on a moisture farm. Helped me with the kid."

"He doesn't live here anymore?" you asked, forcing yourself out of your seat with difficulty. You ignored the pain in your belly and back - normal for this late in your pregnancy. False labor couldn't detract from your fears right now.

"He died," Mando said softly.

"I'm sorry."

He didn't reply and started the deceleration to land in a remote section of desert.

"You should be safe here," he said as he lowered the hatch for the two of you to step out.

"Should be?"

He nodded. "Should be."

"How could he find me?" you asked softly as Mando set about shouldering open the long-locked front door.

"Tracking pucks," he grunted, throwing his whole body against the door. He let out a rather undignified cry as he fell inside when the lock finally gave way and the door banged open. When he stood he fished one out of his pocket and held it out in his palm to you. It flashed a rapid red as it neared you. "That's how."

"Why now?" you asked. Rage welled up in your heart at the thought of this vile man getting a hold of you again.

"Probably just wants to scare you," he said as he set about tidying the little house up. "Knows that baby is coming soon. Just wants to stress you out more."

As if on cue, a particularly rough false contraction hit and you vaulted forward to grip the edge of the table. You arched your back, hoping to alleviate some of the pressure.

"Oh, kriff," you gasped, gritting your teeth. You squeezed your eyes shut and took a few deep breaths in and out. "Maker, I don't want to know how bad the real thing is gonna be."

"You won't be alone," Mando said softly as he placed a hand on your back.

"Yeah, well," you gasped, "No offense, but have you ever delivered a baby?"

Mando was quiet.

"Yeah, didn't think so."

"You'll be fine," he assured. "Sit. I'm gonna go look around, see what we can salvage and use."

You sighed and nodded. "If you need help, let me know. Sometimes walking helps with the pain."

He looked around at the state of the main living room. "Okay. Here, I'm gonna fix the bed. You go and get the blankets from the ship. Take a few trips if they're heavy."

You took the key from him and started back towards the ship, a hand grasping your belly. It's okay, my moon.

As you boarded the ship and headed towards the bedroom, you heard what sounded like voices from the cockpit. Taunting voices drifted down the ladder and through the corridor to you, though you couldn't make out what was being said. As your heart hammered away in your chest, you tiptoed to the ladder to ascend to the cockpit.

It became obvious to you as soon as you breached the top of the ladder that the voices were on a recording, an old transmission that must've automatically started playing when the ship picked up a bio feedback on board.

"...don't worry, Mando. We just want the little whore you been travelling with. Not that ugly kid," a low voice growled up at you from the holopad. A thin blue image of a burly, bald man was staring up at you and illuminating the otherwise dark cockpit. "Ain't got nothin' to worry about with us. In and out, like always. She got a good price out on her, and with that baby intact, there's a double offer on 'em. So we call it even, got it? Besides, Xi'an misses you."

Your heart was pounding in your throat as you sank into the pilot's chair. Mando was right. People were looking for you.

A chilling thought entered your mind and no matter how much you tried, you couldn't shake it.

Did Mando turn you in?

You broke out in a cold sweat as you glanced around the cockpit for something that could be used as a weapon. If he knew that you saw this message...

Maybe he didn't have to know you saw it. After all, he just sent you in here to get the bedding. He wouldn't know... You hit delete, hoping maybe he wouldn't find out about it.

You quickly descended the ladder and retrieved some of the bedding and carried it down the ramp of the ship.

Mando was tending to the moisture tanks a little way away from the house and you eyed him warily. It was the first time in six months you had not trusted him.

Why would he wait until now? Were he and his friends waiting to literally snatch the baby from between your legs and drag you by your hair, kicking and screaming to your ex-husband, a bloody trail dragging behind you?

Mando wouldn't do that. You knew he wouldn't. So why now were you so afraid? Was it just the mounting anxiety of new motherhood catching up to you?

You busied yourself as best you could while you waited for him to come back to the house, both by trying to clean up all the dust that gathered and by watching the baby.

He had been uneasy the last few days, especially around you. He would babble softly and reach for you to pick him up, which you had been having trouble doing due to the fact that you could barely bend over.

One time he cried so hard and so loud that Mando ended up taking him for a walk off the ship until he fell asleep so your breasts would stop leaking and soaking through your shirt.

The lights came on automatically a few hours later and were droning steadily for half an hour by the time Mando came back inside

"So bad news," he said with a tired sigh as he dropped into a chair at the rickety kitchen table. "Moisture tanks are busted to hell. Looks like Jawas scavved the machinery. I tried to salvage what I could but no luck."

"What are we going to do?" you asked softly.

Mando shrugged. "Gonna have to go find somewhere. We're gonna need a lot of it, especially when that baby decides to make an appearance."

"Should I come with y--"

"No. You're gonna stay here," he said firmly. "I'll leave my gun and a knife for you."

"You're going to leave?" you asked, heart racing.

"I'll only be gone a couple of hours," he said, getting to his feet. He unholstered his blaster and took a knife from his sheath. "Safety is off on that. Use it like I taught you if something happens, okay?"

He handed them both to you and picked up the baby. "I'll leave the ship. If anyone comes, you go inside and you lock that door. Nothing on this planet will get inside. I'll be back by morning."

Mando came over to you and cupped his hand around the back of your head and pulled you close to press his forehead against yours. Second time he's done that...

He seemed hesitant to pull away from you. He placed the baby in his pod and looked back at you, his shoulders tense and squared.

"You'll be safe here. I promise," he said as he opened the door. "I'm gonna take the kid with me. You need to take it easy and he'll just be upset the whole time."

You looked at him, eyes wide with fear as you watched him leave.

For a moment, you debated telling him about the message on his ship. But you knew then he wouldn't leave - and you needed water. Washing, cleaning, sanitation, drinking. A lot of water was necessary, especially if you were going to be here for a while.

He shut the door behind him and you waited a few minutes before you got up and shoved a broom through the door handle, effectively locking it from the inside. If you needed to escape out the back door, it would buy you a moment of time.

He knows where I am. He knows I'm with the Mandalorian... He knows that I am alone.

You had to do something to keep your mind busy and off of the thought of being taken back to evil himself. It wasn't easy, and you desperately wished that he left the baby. He was right though. You needed to rest and sleep as much as you possibly could.

You also wished that you brought something to do to distract you from the excruciating pain that was now tearing itself through your lower body. As quickly as you could, you ran to the section of the abandoned homestead that had once been used to repair the moisture tanks, both now stripped bare of essentials. A passing knowledge of some of how some of this stuff works comes in handy every now and then. You had a timer fastened together in no time, set to beep once a minute. It would keep you alert, at least.

As you made your way back to the main part of the house, the pain subsided. You allowed yourself to eat part of the food that Mando had brought in, hoping that would quell the gnawing feeling in your stomach.

The baby turned and shifted as the night went on, even as you bedded down to for the evening.

Sleep didn't come easy that night for you and as you lay awake in the darkness of Arvala-7. All you could do was hope that you wouldn't be alone when the baby came.

***

Mando wasn't back the next morning. He wasn't there to help you out of bed, or to call you me'suum. The Crest was still there though, which brought a little comfort to you that he hadn't simply abandoned you on this desert planet to die of thirst.

He didn't come back by lunchtime.

Or dinner.

Or long after the lights came on.

You found a small leather skin under the bed that had about a day's worth of water in it. It was warm and had a bit of a sandy grit to it, but you drank deeply from it all the same.

That night, in the early hours of the morning, your waters broke.

And you were utterly alone.

***

TAGLIST (let me know if you want to be added!):

@miscellaneous-mando @lestrange2703 @someplace-darker @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked @poeticparker @blackbird337 @the-last-twin-of-krypton @divineangelix @c1996 @mell-bell @qhbr2013 @bookszazzy @marvelbros-oneshots @cuteboyking @boomtownboy @connor-challoner @fandom-lover-4 @itsmysticalmystery @love-struck-aries

#my writing #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian fic #the mandalorian #no use of y/n #look around fic

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fandomficsnstuff · 3 years

Text

Guardian Angel - Part 3

Daryl Dixon x Reader

(Warnings: some gore and time skips and character deaths, but other than that, I don’t think so)

-Alright ya'll, I'm thinking smut in the next one, not sure how much, but it's gonna be there!-

You let out a grunt as you climbed over a big log, you had somehow ended up in a clearing, one you didn't exactly recognize, and it was getting dark, fast. You looked around the clearing from your new vantage point, trying to take in anything that might seem familiar, and you were about to give up when you saw the faintest line of smoke in the distance, without really thinking you jumped down off the log, letting out a small whine as you landed wrong on your foot, but you didn’t have time to think about that, you bolted in the direction of the smoke and finally, finally, you arrived at camp, panting heavily as you saw the familiar head of Glenn, and he was the first to see you, his smile fading as he got up and rushed over to you, hugging you tightly, babbling on about how worried he had been when you hadn’t returned from the hunt with Daryl, you could barely understand him, but you were just glad to be back, hugging him as tightly as you could before letting him lead you to the fire.

You winced as you sat down, you felt like your ankle was burning, but no one noticed in the darkness that had overtaken your little camp. You glanced at a new guy who sat with Lori and Carl, and he met your gaze, giving you a soft smile “hey there, I’m Rick Grimes” you smiled and gave a little awkward wave “(Y/N) (Y/L/N)” you greeted, your eyes flickering between Lori and Rick, they sat so close together, cuddling up to each other like a couple, but you thought… Lori and Shane? Maybe you thought wrong. You shrugged off the thought as Dale patted you on the shoulder, letting you know it was good that you were back. You couldn’t help but look around, usually Merle would’ve commented on where you’d been and what you’d been doing, but there was nothing, and you couldn’t really find Daryl either, leading you to look at Andrea who had a sullom look on her face.

“Andrea, not that he’s missed but where’s Merle?” you frowned as you saw the sad look she gave you, making you let out a silent ‘oh’ as you leaned back in your seat on a log, staring at the ground.

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You couldn’t help but scream as a walker grabbed your arm, your knife immediately finding it’s way into it’s skull through it’s eye, but you couldn’t get it out, leaving you with no weapon as you quickly moved away from the now dead walker, running as fast as you could with your injured ankle over to Sophia and picking her up and out of the way as a walker tumbled after you, Sophia screaming and crying in your arms as you continued moving away from the approaching walker, your ankle burning as you limped as fast as you could. You let out a scream again as a shot rang out and you saw Rick with his revolver raised, smoking, and the walker dropping dead as you moved to Rick, putting down Sophia but still holding her hand as you spotted Carol, quickly moving over to her so Sophia would be more safe.

You hugged Carol briefly as she cried, thanking you endlessly for saving Sophia, but you didn’t really pay attention, seeing Daryl kill a walker, another approaching fast behind him. You quickly picked up a shovel, limping over and wacking it over the head, inches away from Daryl who quickly turned around, wide eyes staring at you in shock as you kept bashing the walker’s head in, slamming the shovel down on it several times until it’s face and head was more puddle than solid, after which you looked up at him, you were still angry about him leaving you, so once you made eye contact you just turned around and went back to Carol, shovel still in your hands with walker blood and brains on it.

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You let out a short cry as you watched Andrea sit on the ground with Amy, this couldn’t be happening, this wasn’t happening. You limped closer, seeing Andrea clutch Amy in her arms as she cried and screamed. You felt your eyes burn as you watched her, it was almost daylight now, you could see the sun peeking over the horizon, bathing you all in a golden light, it was almost ironic, this golden, almost heavenly light, bathing bloodsoaked people in it as they were surrounded by death, makeshift weapons and guns in hand, like the world was playing a joke on you all. On any other day you would have felt at peace, being bathed in the colorful light, the chirping of birds and frogs quaking down in the quarry, maybe some of the fires would still be burning, kindling, but not today, not now, not here.

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You helped load as many supplies into the cars as possible, wincing once again as you put too much pressure on your foot. You were so lost in thought, trying to make everything fit, that when you felt a tap on your shoulder you flinched, barely still standing as you spun around, a part of the night still lingering in you, how close the walker had been to biting your arm before you stabbed it, the pain you felt in your ankle as you carried Sophia, how you killed that walker with a shovel, everything in your head was running a thousand miles, spinning out of control, adrenalin still pumping through your veins, making you ready to fight again as you turned around, but all you were met with was his eyes, though downcast and shy. You snapped yourself out of it, sighing as you looked away from him “what is it?” you didn’t see how he cringed ever so slightly at your hostile tone, but he guessed he deserved that. When you didn’t get a response right away you looked back at him “what?” he nodded towards your ankle “ya alright?” you scoffed at his question, turning around to continue pushing the supplies into the car “I’m busy right now, you wanna leave someone in the woods, go find somebody else” you snapped, about to turn away from him when he gripped your arm, it didn’t hurt, but it wasn’t gentle either “sit” he nodded to a rock, making you frown but you still did as he told you.

You watched as he kneeled down and took off your shoe and your sock, he was surprisingly gentle, his fingers moved in such a soft manner that you had never even thought was possible for him, how he carefully slid off your shoe, how his fingers barely touched you as he pulled off your sock to look at your ankle. You winched again as the sock was finally off, seeing your ankle red and swollen surprised you, you hadn’t even looked at it yourself. Daryl sighed as he gently turned your foot, making sure not to hurt you too much as he did, checking all around your ankle to see how bad it was.

“ ‘tis alright, ‘s just swollen and bruised, take it easy and it’ll be alright in a day or two” he carefully helped you put your sock and shoe back on, and you couldn’t help but blush, he was so gentle, so careful, it was unbelievable. Afterwards he helped you get up, pretty much picking up all your work by packing the cars from then on, which made you smile even just a bit. You got ready to get in the car with T-Dog when he stopped you, gently pulling you aside from the others, his eyes downcast again and shy as he stared at the ground “so uh… if you wanna you could ride with me on my bike…” your eyes widened just the slightest, watching him pick his gaze back up to look at you, clearly regretting it as soon as he saw your face “or whatever” he were about to leave you when you grabbed his arm gently “sure, my ankle could use not being packed into a van” he nodded and gave you the faintest smile before going back to his bike, Lori approaching you from behind as she carried a box “Daryl and (Y/N) sitting in a tree…” she began making you turn around and slap her arm “it’s not like that!” the two of you laughed as you continued to pack the cars, Lori nudging your shoulder a few times, every time Daryl glanced at you, and every time you looked back up at him and gave him a small smile, he still had to make up for leaving you in the forest, knowing full well you couldn’t find your way back, but he was well on his way, you thought.

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You kept your eyes downcast as you swung your leg over his bike, settling in behind him as your arms wrapped around his midsection, you didn’t want to leave Jim behind, but it was his choice, a choice you could respect, even if you didn’t understand it. You pressed your cheek to Daryl’s back, his leather jacket digging into your skin, but in a comforting way, and just as he were about to start his bike, you heard the faintest voice say ‘I ain’t gonna let that happen to you, I promise’ coming from the man in front of you, which just made your arms around him tighten, which he didn’t mind, a hand coming up to gently stroke your arm around him before he started up his bike again, the engine roaring to life was enough to clear your head, if only for a moment, and you decided to instead try to focus on the things around you, not behind you. You didn’t want to think about Jim, you didn’t want to think about how sick he looked, how pale and fragile he was, you wanted to focus on the words Daryl whispered, on how it felt to wrap your arms around him, of the wind howling in your ears as you clung to Daryl, how his leather jacket felt against your cheek, that’s what you wanted to focus on.

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You held your knife like Daryl had shown you as more walkers came pouring from - well - everywhere. They seemed to pop out of nowhere, and it was getting dark, Rick was shouting at a broken camera like someone could see you, Shane wanted to go and you stayed with Daryl, his crossbow raised as his target shifted from one walker to another, keeping eyes on as many as possible. You had already taken one walker down, your group, your friends, retreating as much back as possible, you were getting cornered, and for a brief moment, just a moment, you lowered your knife and hugged Daryl from behind, which clearly surprised him, and you quickly let go, raising your knife again, but you kept your eyes on him, a few tears in your eyes as you smiled “I didn’t want to die without doing that first” you whispered, his eyes widening and his eyes went back and forth between the walkers and you, your eyes still on him, and after what felt like eternity, but was probably more like 15 seconds, he swung his crossbow around his shoulder and got out his knife instead, his hand intertwined with yours, fingers locking, still ready to fight but not leaving your side either.

You let a tear fall down your cheek as you clutched his hand tighter, when suddenly the closed off entryway into the CDC opened, your eyes widening as everyone hesitated, but eventually Daryl all but dragged you inside, moving as fast as he could, not letting go of your hand for one second, your ankle still burned, but adrenalin made it hard for you to notice.

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You let out a giggle as Daryl challenged Glenn, and you had to admit, you were curious yourself as to how much he could drink. You laughed even harder at something Glenn said while drunk, unintentionally leaning into Daryl as you leaned back, doing a full on Chris Evans laugh. Daryl’s eyes stayed on you as he smiled, watching you like you were the most beautiful person in the world, and to him, you were. Your smile, your eyes, god, your beautiful (Y/E/C) eyes, and your hair, you were beautiful, perfect, which was why he felt bad feeling like this, you didn’t deserve him, you deserve someone who treated you like the beautiful woman you were, you deserve someone who can take care of you, love you the way you’re meant to be loved, someone who wouldn’t leave you in the woods because they got flustered and scared of showing how much they care. Your smile faded as Daryl leaned away from you, your hands had previously been interlocked but he slid his hand out of yours, avoiding your gaze as you looked at him confused, but eventually you leaned away from him as well, taking a sip of your wine as you stared at the table, your good mood suddenly dampened, which felt like a punch to Daryl’s stomach, maybe he should’ve just stayed by your side, it made you so happy, but it was too late now, Shane ruining the potential for a good mood returning and soon you all left the table, being shown to your rooms.

#Daryl Dixon #Daryl Dixon x Reader #TWD FanFic

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matchasprouts · 3 years

Text

Don't Go - Chapter 2

[ took me a minute but chapter 2! finally!! kwejnewfjkewfnkew Bo jealous momence <3 love him but he's SO repressed. also heartbreaking that Jesse got cockblocked by his enemy </////3 ]

First || Next || Previous || Last

“Do you think your wax people could withstand a dusting? I don’t like the cobwebs,” Jesse asked as he looked up from his carving, catching Vincent’s attention from where he sat across from him.

Vincent stared for a moment, probably thinking it over. “Be careful,” he finally signed, before returning to his own work.

Good enough for him. “Thanks,” Jesse told him as he gathered up his stuff and headed for the tunnel that would lead to the hatch connected to his antique shop. Luckily, none of the figures were kept in there.

When the town started to fill up with these wax creations, Jesse had made it very clear that he wouldn’t allow any of them in his shop. Above it was the apartment that he lived in, and he wasn’t having any fucking wax figures watching him sleep.

The feather duster he used on the antiques was easy to find, and he was setting off soon enough.

Most of the residential houses didn’t have figures in them, only one or two, so he went for them first. It felt a little weird to be dusting a wax coated corpse, but he was sure these dead people didn’t want the cobwebs on them any more than he did.

He started with the old lady that opened the curtain on her window, turning off the mechanism that made her move while he dusted her, just to keep her still. He was extra careful with her glasses, after discovering that they weren’t very tightly secured.

The cinema was his next target, followed by the church. The only one he didn’t have to touch was Trudy’s body in the casket. Honestly, the churchgoers in general weren’t all too dusty. Some of them were fresh, others were simply cleaned regularly because of the church’s use in how Bo lured people in.

Any shop he could actually get into were the last places he worked on. It was tempting to break into a few when he glanced inside and saw the cobwebs, but he quite frankly didn’t want a run-in with Bo.

Unfortunately, that run-in would happen anyway.

“What the hell are you doin’?” Bo asked when he caught him in one of the shops, mid-dusting a person’s face.

Jesse tensed up immediately at the sound of his voice, gripping the duster so hard that his knuckles turned white. “I’m dusting them off. I can’t stand the cobwebs,” he replied, letting out a sigh before turning to face him.

Bo scoffed at the answer, rolling his eyes at him. Apparently, the idea that Jesse cared about something seemed stupid to him. “They’re corpses. Gatherin’ cobwebs is kinda their thing.”

It was hard for Jesse to not snap at him, tightening his jaw in order to avoid it. He really hated arguing, especially with Bo. It always got so heated, so… angry. He became a completely different person during these arguments and he fucking hated that side of himself.

“Well, I don’t think they should have to be dirty,” he finally said, turning away again as he continued his work. “They were alive once. They still deserve the respect we give to the living.”

It seemed an argument wasn’t going to be avoided, because within seconds he felt a large hand on his arm (vaguely, he was aware of himself relaxing at the warmth) before he was yanked away from the statue.

“Don’t you fuckin’ forget that these things are dead,” Bo hissed, gripping his arm even tighter. “You start goin’ soft, and I’ll make sure you join ‘em.”

Wow. What an asshole.

Jesse yanked his arm away, just barely forcing himself to not shove Bo away. “Can you fuck off? I’m trying to clean up this shithole of a town, and you’re just gonna stand here and be a dick? What’s your fucking problem, Sinclair?”

“My problem is you treatin’ these fuckin’ things like people! They’re dead Monroe, they ain’t comin’ back! You can’t suddenly take back the shit you did to ‘em, you can’t pretend you didn’t help!”

“I wasn’t pretending that!” Jesse could feel the rage bubbling up the longer they stayed near each other. He knew he needed to get out of there before he did something stupid, but when he tried to push past Bo, he simply shoved him back.

“Why do you have to be such a bastard all the time!?” Jesse yelled, running his hands through his hair. “You can’t just be fucking normal!? All I wanted was to clean up! That was it! I don’t see what’s so fucking wrong with that!!”

Bo opened his mouth, but Jesse couldn’t be there anymore. “Get out of my fucking way!” he snapped, bringing his foot down on Bo’s knee to distract him long enough to literally bolt out of the shop, taking his headstart as a chance to find somewhere to hide.

Normally, Bo would give up when he ran, but sometimes he liked to chase. Jesse wasn’t sure if he thought it was a game, or- even worse- it aroused him, and he really didn’t want to find out.

He heard him call out to him from where he was hidden, but didn’t move, hardly even breathing at this point.

Bo Sinclair didn’t scare him. Jesse was aware that he could kill him, but he knew he could put up one hell of a fight. And he’d never hurt him- not unless he wanted to lose his control over Vincent and Lester.

Even still, he didn’t want to test his luck. He only emerged from his hiding spot when he was sure Bo was gone, cautiously returning to the shop to retrieve his feather duster.

Decidedly, he’d wait for tomorrow to finish up.

---

Jesse jumped at the feeling of a light tap on his shoulder, pulling his earbuds out when he looked up and saw it was Vincent. “What’s up?”

Vincent just gently grabbed him by the sleeve and led him over to his most recent work, stopping in front of it. He liked getting Jesse’s opinion before he dressed them, especially because he’d seen them before they were wax.

“Oh wow, I think this is one of your best yet,” Jesse commented, taking a step forward to get a closer look. “The skin looks so real, even with the wax it looks just like it.”

He almost went to touch it, but quickly remembered to keep his hands to himself, not wanting to ruin it with the oil on his fingers. “It’s beautiful Vincent, really,” he said, backing up so he was standing next to the artist again.

When he glanced over at him, he saw a slight crinkle of his eye from the eye hole. The idea that a compliment would make Vincent smile that big made Jesse grin, giving him a supportive pat on the shoulder before heading over to his desk.

Unfortunately, he didn’t get the chance to get back to work because Bo came jogging down the stairs, interrupting him with a harsh “hey!”.

“We got a new group. You take the guy- he seems like he’d be real easy for you to distract,” he told him, not giving Jesse the chance to argue before he was heading back up the stairs.

Jesse sighed, gathering his tools and wood into his bag and slinging it over his shoulder. “I’ll see you later, Vince. Might wanna make sure you’ve got the wax ready.” Vincent just gave him a nod, and he followed Bo’s path up the stairs.

“Are you sure this guy is gay?” Jesse asked, extremely uncomfortable sitting in Bo’s truck but also aware that if he came out of the ground their cover would immediately be blown.

“How the fuck would I know if a man’s gay?” Bo replied harshly, but at least kept his eyes on the road. “I don’t look out for that kinda shit. He just looked gullible.”

Great. Jesse was supposed to pretend to be interested in a stranger to kill him, and Bo didn’t even know if he was into men. “Well, that sure helps,” he muttered, resting his head against the window.

He heard Bo scoff, but luckily he didn’t say anything else. An argument where both of them could walk away was fine, but arguing in the car could end up with something very bad happening.

Jesse was the first to get out when the truck was parked, just barrel stopping himself from slamming the door before making his way into the gas station where the new group was waiting.

Bo followed close behind, having paused to grab something from his truck before entering the station.

He really didn’t like having the whole group’s focus on him until Bo came in, but he did note that one of the men seemed awkward, and flushed.

Huh. Looks like Bo was right for once.

“This is Jesse,” Bo introduced him, flashing that grin of his and placing a hand on Jesse’s shoulder. “Heard one of ya was interested in checkin’ out the ol’ antique shop and, well, he runs it.”

Jesse put on a smile of his own, slipping his hands into his pockets. “I don’t get many folk interested in checking it out, that’s why I wasn’t there. But if any of you wanted to take a look around, we can walk down there. I’ll warn you, there are some pieces I’m not willing to part with, but I’m sure we can look something out.”

Slipping into the persona he put on for things like this was easy, practically second nature. Hell, he could even tolerate the hand on his shoulder when he was focused like this.

“I’d love to check it out,” the man that had been eyeing him spoke up, cutting off one of his friends that was seemingly about to shut him down. “If- if that’s okay,” he quickly added, embarrassed by his outburst.

Jesse shot him a grin that made his face flush, now silently thanking Bo for assuming he was gay, because maybe he’d actually get something for once. It’s certainly not easy being one of FOUR inhabitants in a town where the only other men there are either like brothers to you or absolutely despise you. He deserves to fuck a stranger before killing him.

“Great,” he responded, shrugging Bo’s hand off his shoulder finally and moving over to the man. “We can head over there now, if you’d like.” Then he leaned forward, lowering his voice for only the stranger to hear. “You can bring your friends, but I’d much rather get you alone.”

Somehow, the man’s flush deepened, making Jesse smile as he leaned back. “I’ll see you guys later,” he told his friends, not letting them argue with him as he let Jesse lead him out of the gas station.

“So, what’s your name?” Jesse asked during the walk, not allowing the persona to slip for even a moment. He couldn’t have him running off, after all.

“Jackson,” the stranger replied, smiling at Jesse’s interest in him. “We match- you know, J names.” Ah, he was far too excited about that, but he just smiled at him. “How long have you been here?”

“My whole life,” Jesse answered, pulling Jackson over to the shop and pausing in front of the door to unlock it. “Ambrose born and raised. My parents were from Georgia though, only lived here long enough for me to turn 18 before they bolted.” That actually wasn’t a lie.

“Sorry about that,” Jackson said, now following him inside the shop. He went quiet as he looked around, seemingly surprised that the shop was bigger inside than it looked outside.

Jesse just hummed at the condolences, leaving it be. He didn’t want his dead parents to spoil the mood. “Now, I have to ask, are you actually interested in the antiques? I rarely meet anyone that wants to see them.”

He heard a nervous chuckle and looked over at Jackson. “Well, yeah, but that’s not the only reason I wanted to check it out. Mr. Sinclair-” oh WOW, he wondered how Bo handled THAT- “said that you were the one who ran it and- well- I… I dunno, I came on this road trip because I wanted to meet someone and now I’m hoping that it’ll be you.”

Ah. So he wanted a genuine relationship and not a quick fuck. “Well…” Jesse started, moving so he stood right in front of Jackson, carefully bringing his hands up to toy with the buttons on the flannel he wore, “I’ve never considered leaving Ambrose, but I might be able to make an exception for you.”

That seemed to be the final breaking point, because Jackson took his face in his hands and pulled him into a kiss, one Jesse eagerly returned.

It was quick, desperate, and heated, and neither of them heard the trapdoor in the backroom open, or the heavy footsteps that came up to them.

In fact, they only knew someone was with them when Jackson was yanked back. He didn’t get the chance to scream before his throat was slit, spraying blood on Jesse, who gasped mainly in offence.

“Bo! What the hell! I fucking had that!” he snapped, glaring up at the man, who just tossed Jackson’s body to the side.

“You were gonna fuck him,” was all Bo said- the malice in his tone admittedly shocked Jesse, and it almost sounded like he was jealous. That made no fucking sense, considering Bo hated him.

“Yeah, Bo, I was going to fuck him because last time I checked, there are no other men in this nowhere town that will!” he yelled in reply, letting out a frustrated huff as he pushed past Bo to get to the stairs that led to his apartment.

He didn’t get two feet before he was being yanked back into a solid chest, feeling Bo’s warm breath against his neck. “Don’t pull that shit again,” he growled, which only made Jesse angrier.

He yanked himself out of the bigger man’s grasp, forcing himself not to attack him. “You don’t get to tell me what to do you ass, I’m not your fucking boyfriend- I’m not even your friend. Keep your problems to yourself,” he spat, before heading for the stairs again.

This time, he wasn’t stopped, but he didn’t hear Bo leave until after he slammed the door shut.

Well, he didn’t even want to unpack that.

#story tag: don't go #self ship #self ship fic #self shipping #jack.writing #jack.ships #s/i: jesse monroe #bo sinclair #vincent sinclair #lester sinclair #romantic: 🔧🏹#familial: vincent sinclair #familial: lester sinclair #chapter 2

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eddieeatsass · 3 years

Text

On the Edge of an Avalanche

Summary: Graduation was upon them and Eddie Kaspbrak was eager to leave Derry behind. His one last hurrah would be the senior ski trip, earning him an escape from his mother and the looming stress of college admissions. It was supposed to be a relaxing vacation, until he got slated to look after resident pain-in-everyone’s-ass, Richie Tozier. Pairing: Richie Tozier/Eddie Kaspbrak Rating: E Chapter: 4/5 Read Chapter 3 Here / Read on AO3

Richie’s room was nicer than Eddie’s, way nicer. It’s not that Eddie’s room was bad, in fact he’d spent a good amount of time admiring it earlier, it’s just that Eddie’s room was like the discount version, and Richie’s was designer. Where Eddie’s room had gotten tall windows, half of Richie’s wall was taken up by a fireplace. Eddie supposed it was a trade, someone who preferred a nicer view might say Eddie’s room was the winner, but there was something undeniably romantic about your own fireplace. Richie’s room also seemed to have a newer TV, mounted on the wall across from their bed. The TV in Eddie’s room was older and hid behind two panels of wood in a cabinet. Simply put, Eddie was very glad Richie had decided to bring them here. Richie flopped on the bed immediately, overdramatizing how exhausted he was just from limping his way down the hall. Eddie hid a knowing smile and joined him. “Thank you for saving me, I was about five minutes away from dying of boredom.” Richie drawled. “Well, I can’t promise you’ll have any more fun here, but you’re welcome. ”Richie let his head loll to the side, regarding Eddie closely before speaking again. “No, I’ll definitely have more fun here. ”The insinuation was brash, Richie didn’t even bother trying to hide it behind a joke. It made Eddie’s gut clench in unusual ways. He brought his thumb up to his mouth, the habit of gnawing at his fingernails a hard one to kick, but was interrupted by his own gasp as his hand came into view. His knuckles were starting to bruise, tender to flex and even more tender to touch. He hadn’t noticed any pain earlier, too caught up in Richie to even think about anything else, but now that he was staring at his fist the ache began to echo under his skin. “You just notice that?” Richie asked gently, noting the horror in Eddie’s eyes. Eddie could only nod, his gaze fixed on the evidence of his breakdown. He wasn’t sure how long he stared at his hand, but when Richie’s entered the frame Eddie startled. He’d gotten a hand towel from the bathroom and wrapped some ice in it, which Eddie could only guess was provided in their minifridge. Richie guided Eddie’s hand down to his lap, placing the ice pack atop his knuckles gently and murmuring an apology when Eddie hissed at the sudden coldness. They stayed silent for a few minutes, simply sitting in each other’s presence as the ice dampened the cloth atop Eddie’s hand. Eddie was the first to speak, keeping his eyes downcast as he admitted his guilt aloud. “I’m not a violent person, you know.” He could feel Richie’s eyes on his face but didn’t give in to the lure. “Yeah, I know.” Richie reassured. “But Bowers is an exception-”“No, he’s not.” Eddie snapped. “If I sink to his level, I’m just like him.” Eddie wasn’t sure if Richie would get it. They had both been targets of Henry’s attacks, but Eddie never wanted anyone to feel the way he’d felt, not even Henry himself. Eddie’s mind was constantly replaying all the times he'd had his face shoved into the dirt, the way the gravel would stick to his wounds, the shouts he’d receive from his mother upon getting home. Henry was a god-awful human, but that didn’t mean he deserved to feel that same pain and sorrow. That wasn’t going to change anything; you can’t break the cycle with the same bullshit that fueled it. “I didn’t mean to do it.” Eddie whispered. “I just snapped.” Richie immediately scooted closer, an action Eddie wasn’t expecting or prepared for. He looked up and met bright blue eyes, tender and open and completely void of judgement. “You’re nothing like him; you didn’t want to hurt him. Bowers wants to hurt people. ”Eddie looked back down at his hand, flexing his fingers and watching as the makeshift ice pack slid off and landed on the sheets. “You know…” Eddie began thinking out loud. “I’ve felt the brunt of a lot of people’s insecurities. I don’t usually mind being projected on, it’s easy to see through the words and figure out what’s actually going on behind them. I’ve even gotten good at doing it with Henry, though he’s a bit of a different breed… But there was something about the things he said today... they felt more personal.” Richie listened intently, allowing Eddie to spill out into the space between them, his vulnerability a tender wound. “Whatever, it’s stupid.” Eddie was quick to dismiss his own feelings, covering them up with a shrug of his shoulders that attempted to pass as indifference. “It’s not stupid.” Richie insisted. Eddie stared down at his uninjured hand as it picked at a thread on the blanket beneath them. “Listen, I don't know what Henry said, but you're not suddenly a super villain for fighting back one time. The first time I was called a fag, I threw a mug at the dude’s head.” Richie admitted aloud with a chuckle. “We were in a coffee shop and I was on my first date with a guy. I ended up having to pay for the broken mug and my backtalk. ”Eddie perked up like Richie had just given him a straight shot of smelling salts. All other sound in the room fell away as Eddie homed in on Richie’s voice, trying to discern if he was dreaming or not. “Safe to say it was not a very good first impression.” Richie laughed lightly, completely unaware of the way he was flipping Eddie’s world upside down. “Anyway, all I’m trying to say is you’re not the only one who’s lost their cool before. You’re human, you’re allowed to get upset when people treat you less than.” Eddie was sure Richie was making a good point, was sure what he was saying held some wisdom that could potentially help, but he was guilty to say he hadn’t processed a word of it. He was too caught up on the fact that Richie had dated guys before. Stan’s words echoed in his brain ‘You might want to consider the possibility that this isn’t their first time eating a hot dog’, fucking Stan was always right, even with that stupid metaphor. Richie had begun talking again, but Eddie didn’t hesitate to interrupt him, this new revelation too significant to pass by. “You like boys?” Eddie blurted out, all grace and subtlety left behind with his spiraling thoughts. Richie froze in place, his hands up in a gesture Eddie was sure had something to do with what he’d been talking about, but now looked comically out of place. Slowly, Richie lowered his hands to his lap and regarded Eddie with a new look, one that held enough cockiness to knock the wind out of Eddie. “Grinding my dick on you didn’t send the message?” Richie teased, raising one eyebrow and swiping his tongue across his teeth. Eddie suppressed a full body shiver, averting his eyes from Richie’s intensity. “I thought you were maybe, like, I don’t know-” “This ain’t my first rodeo, cowboy.” Richie said with a twang that went straight to Eddie’s pants. He blamed Brokeback Mountain. “Well, it isn’t mine either.” Eddie defended instinctively. He watched as Richie’s eyes flicked down to his mouth and back up again, quick like a hummingbird and with all the same charm. “So, then what’s the issue?” Richie’s voice had lowered, taking on something much more intimate and sultry. It made Eddie’s heart rate spike. “I guess there isn’t one.” He breathed. “Good, because I’ve been wanting to do this all day.” Eddie barely had a moment to breathe before Richie captured his lips in a hungry kiss, his hand burying itself in the hair at Eddie’s nape to pull him in closer. The gesture almost made Eddie go limp, as if he were a cat being held by its scruff, submissive by instinct. He opened his mouth pliantly, allowing Richie in with a welcome of his own tongue. Eddie couldn’t believe that this was happening. Just a couple hours ago he was fisting his own cock, fantasizing about the way Richie tasted. Now he knew. Richie was a cold fire, stoking Eddie’s lungs with mint and cinnamon spice. He tasted like the frost outside, and the embers that kept you warm. It was comforting, enveloping in a way Eddie couldn’t describe. Eddie pushed against Richie, guiding him to lay down on his back so Eddie could climb atop his lap, resuming the same position they’d been in the night before. This time, however, there was clear determination between them. There were no longer hesitant touches or swallowed moans, every move was purposeful, made with intent. Eddie wasn’t shy to shed his sweater, wanting to move things along as quickly as possible now that they were finally happening. “Your body, god, do you know how long I’ve been wanting to get my hands on you?” Richie grabbed Eddie’s bare waist in near disbelief, awe shining in his eyes. “Less than 24 hours?” Eddie snorted, rolling his eyes and his hips in tandem. Richie groaned and tightened his grip, stilling Eddie forcefully. “Try years. You think I didn’t notice you until Mrs. Harrow forced us to sit together?” Eddie flushed even hotter, his skin reddening to match the fire that Richie was stoking. Richie grinned at Eddie’s speechlessness, pushing forward. “I noticed you for the first time in sophomore year. You were trying out for the track team at the same time as Mike and we were in the bleachers cheering him on. I was gone the second you walked out onto that grass. I tried to be respectful, but I couldn’t stop imagining myself squeezed between those thighs that your tight little track shorts did a great job of highlighting.” Eddie tried to recall that moment, tried to visualize Richie in the bleachers with his floppy hair and lopsided glasses, but all he could remember was the adrenaline he’d felt going behind his mother’s back, too busy to notice anything else. “I never stopped noticing you after that, in fact I’m surprised you never caught me looking your way during class…” Richie moved his hands to begin trailing up Eddie’s thighs. “But the second time I really noticed you, was at the end of that school year. We had a heat wave and the AC broke, d’you remember that? The school had no idea how to deal with it, so they just chucked us outside and gave us popsicles from the freezer in the cafeteria, probably because they were going to melt anyway. But you sat there in the middle of the field sucking on your popsicle like it was the best fucking thing you’d ever tasted. You might have been miserable like the rest of us, but you were too focused on your treat to pay any mind to the weather.” Eddie’s throat was going dry, his head beginning to feel light and airy as he listened to Richie talk. “That night I dreamt you were sucking my cock, that same euphoric look on your face as if it were that damn popsicle.” Richie’s hands reached Eddie’s hips and traced the curve around to his ass, causing Eddie to stutter a breath as his eyelashes fluttered against his cheekbones. “I’ve thought about fucking you for years, Eds, to see you cum on my cock and hear you cry my name. I would do just about anything you asked me to, just as long as I can make you feel good.” Eddie had never been this aroused in his life. Every single nerve in his body was buzzing like a live wire, his toes already curling just from Richie’s words alone. “What if I asked you to take your clothes off?” Eddie braved, his voice shaky. Richie sat up, bringing them chest to chest. “Anything. You. Asked.” Richie punctuated each word with a featherlight kiss to Eddie’s lips. The butterflies in Eddie’s stomach went wild as he watched Richie begin to strip off his shirt. He did it slowly, keeping his eyes on Eddie as Eddie’s own raked down the newly exposed skin. Richie's skin was pale enough to rival the snow outside, spattered with fewer freckles than Eddie’s, but enough to break up the milky complexion. He was thin but still held definition, especially as Eddie’s eyes reached the ‘v’ of his hips that dipped into his waistband. Eddie swallowed thickly and nodded towards the spot where Richie’s hands were already hovering over his waistband. Eddie had to swing his leg off Richie and move to the side to let him shimmy his pants down his legs, every new inch equally as mesmerizing. “Like what you see?” Richie’s voice was barely above a whisper. “Not sure yet, I think I need to see more.” Eddie whispered back, tension thick between them. Eddie could see where Richie was straining against the fabric of his boxers, tenting them to an intimidating level. The way his mouth watered at the sight made Eddie feel absolutely depraved, lewd in a way that only added to his arousal, made him want to spread his legs wide and offer himself up whole. The moment that stretched between them as Richie pulled his boxers down felt like an eternity. Eddie lived, died, and got reborn all in the span of that second. Richie’s cock was heavy, springing free for only a moment before falling back against his stomach. Eddie could see Richie moving in his peripheral, getting comfortable back against the duvet after throwing his boxers to the floor, but he couldn’t tear his eyes off his dick. He felt fingers carding through his hair, pushing it back from his forehead, and finally Eddie tore his gaze away from the challenge that sat before him. Richie’s smile was smug, but his eyes seemed vulnerable. Eddie realized he was waiting for his next command, unsure how they’d fallen into that pattern but not opposed to continuing it. Eddie felt powerful as he raised on his haunches and moved to where Richie’s legs were spread. He watched Richie’s face, noted the way his throat bobbed as he swallowed, and his fingers twitched as he tried not to move. Eddie lowered his head so it was level with Richie’s cock, pausing just a few inches away so his breath grazed against it as he spoke. “Fuck my mouth.” Eddie directed, lust overwriting his usual nerves and replacing them with boldness. Richie’s breath shook as he let it out slowly. “Jesus fuck, Eddie…”Richie’s hands travelled back into Eddie’s hair, gentle at first and then gripping at the base. He guided Eddie’s head the rest of the way down and shuttered when Eddie finally took the head in his mouth. Eddie instantly felt intoxicated, like Richie was the strongest absinthe man had ever made. He greedily gulped it down, laving at the underside of Richie’s cock as it glided into his throat. Drool was already pooling at the corners of his mouth, but Eddie paid it no mind, his only focus on drinking in as much of Richie as he could. He knew right away there was no reality in which he could take all of Richie at once, at least not without a lot of practice, so he committed his mouth to the top half and his hand to the bottom. His fingers barely met as they wrapped around Richie’s shaft and gave an experimental pump. Richie groaned, and Eddie took it as a good sign. He repeated the motion with a twist of his wrist, tonguing the slit of his cock where precum was leaking out greedily. Eddie could feel Richie’s legs tensing where he had his free hand splayed across his thigh. Every time he teased the underside of Richie’s head that muscle would jump, and it almost became a game to see how quickly Eddie could make that muscle twitch, his tongue moving faster and faster against that sensitive spot and causing Richie's legs to vibrate. “Oh my god- fuck, ahhhh-h-how are you so good at this…” Richie’s voice was wrecked, raspy and low and breathy all at once. Eddie just hummed in acknowledgement, sending vibrations up Richie’s shaft that made him hump up into Eddie’s mouth. The action caused Eddie to gag and he reveled in it, moaning like a whore in heat. He was so far gone he barely noticed when Richie pulled him off suddenly. “Okay you’re too good at that.” Richie panted, his chest heaving. Eddie’s head was cloudy, the only conscious thought chanting ‘more, more, more’. He blinked a few times, trying to shift the room back into place. “Why did we stop?” Eddie asked dumbly, his words a bit slurred. “I didn’t want to cum yet. I sort of thought… maybe, if you wanted to, we could-” “Finger me.” Eddie blurted out, his senses coming back to him but not all gracefully. “I mean…” He cleared his throat, face beginning to flush. “…please." Richie looked liked he’d just won the lottery and been slapped across the face at the same time, a dopey kind of smile accompanying his features. “You don’t have to be polite about it, Eds. I’m kinda digging this whole dictator thing you’ve got going on, actually.” Eddie giggled adoringly, calmed by the way Richie was able to dissolve his nerves so quickly with such a disastrously dumb joke, even at a time like this. “Gimme a sec.” Richie leaned forward, catching Eddie’s lips in a chaste kiss before he was springing off the bed. “I know that bastard has lube somewhere.” Eddie watched as Richie began searching through what he assumed to be Bill’s suitcase, throwing things to the side in a frenzy. He finally came across a toiletry bag and ripped it open, rifling around for only a moment more and emerging with a small bottle of clear liquid. “Will Bill mind if we use it?” Eddie worried his lip between his teeth, not so much caring about the answer but asking anyway out of respect for his new friend. “Nah, he’ll just be happy I’m getting laid.” Richie winked and those damn butterflies acted up again. Richie crawled back onto the bed, setting the lube to the side temporarily. He returned his attention to Eddie, a renewed twinkle in his lust blown eyes. He crowded Eddie’s space, towering above him but lowering his head so their lips grazed against each other. “Let’s get these off, hmm?” Richie’s fingers stroked lightly at the waistband of Eddie’s sweatpants. “I thought I was the one giving orders.” Eddie teased back, voice barely above a whisper. Richie hooked his fingers under the waistband and pulled, letting it snap back against Eddie’s stomach as he released it with a shuttering breath. “Alright Kaspbrak.” Richie let his body fall backwards, bouncing lighting as it hit the mattress. He brought his hands up behind his head and made a show of getting comfortable. “I am at your mercy.” That same emboldened feeling consumed him once again, a confidence only Richie seemed to instill in him. It was intoxicating, much like everything else about Richie. With a smirk, Eddie backed up off the bed and stood in the middle of the room. Eddie kept his eyes focused on Richie as he began to pull his sweatpants down, going painstakingly slow just to see Richie’s reaction. He saw his adam’s apple bob as he swallowed back his desire, a nearly imperceptible twitch making his cock jump in intrigue. Eddie kicked his pants to the side where they joined his long since discarded sweater, and then all his focus diverted to his neglected cock. All earlier thoughts of whether Richie would like his body were gone, he knew Richie liked his body, and he was planning on milking that for all it was worth. Eddie palmed himself over his underwear, letting his head fall back and his mouth drop open as he finally offered himself the stimulation he needed. He looked down and noted that the white fabric had gone translucent where his cock had been leaking against it, giving Richie a peek of the pink head underneath. He heard Richie whimper from the bed but paid him no mind, indulging in his own senses for a moment. He continued to tease himself through the thin cloth until he couldn’t take any more, finally allowing his hands to wander to the waistband and pull the underwear down his thighs. Richie was silent, watching so attentively that a pin could be heard dropping in the room. Eddie kicked the last piece of clothing off to the side and immediately let his hand wander back to his own cock, tugging it a few times and allowing himself to moan at the sensation. He heard the bed squeak and opened his eyes to see Richie crawling towards him. Gone was Richie’s passiveness and submission, replaced with a new hunger that made Eddie’s legs quiver. Richie reached his arms out and pulled Eddie in until his legs hit the edge of the mattress. Even with Eddie standing and Richie kneeling on the bed, he was still a good few inches taller than him, and he used that to his advantage while crowding into Eddie’s space. “You can’t tease me like that.” Richie whispered into the shell of his ear, kissing right under it and beginning a path down his neck. “I didn’t mean to.” Eddie answered honestly, succumbing to the warmth of Richie’s lips and letting his head tip back once again. “Just felt so good…” “I can make you feel even better.” Richie promised, ghosting his hand down Eddie’s torso and just barely grazing his cock. Eddie moaned, arching into the faint touch and whimpering as it left. “Please…” Eddie’s jaw was slack, the word falling out without a thought. Richie continued making his way down Eddie’s body, sucking marks against tan skin as he passed. He paused at Eddie’s nipples to give them special attention and Eddie keened, grabbing at Richie’s hair in sudden desperation. Richie swirled his tongue around one bud, allowing his hand to pluck the other until he switched. He nipped lightly enough to cause Eddie to shutter and then sucked to soothe the reddening skin. He continued his trail downwards, licking along Eddie’s hip bones and kissing the juncture between his thighs and his pelvis, avoiding Eddie’s cock purposefully. Pleas were falling from Eddie’s mouth steadily now; his hands tugging weakly on Richie’s hair to try and guide him towards pleasure. Richie swiftly gathered Eddie in his arms, catching him off guard in his haze of lust. He moved back up the mattress and laid against the bed board, situating Eddie so he was laying across his body. “I bet your pretty little hole is just begging to be touched.” Richie murmured, reaching for the bottle of lube and hastily pouring a generous amount on his digits. Eddie moaned at the lewdness of the comment, his hips moving against Richie’s and causing their cocks to grind against each other. He could feel a wetness smearing against their bellies, similar to the wetness Richie was spreading between his fingers. He watched as Richie’s hand disappeared behind him and then he felt the warm press of a finger at his entrance. The feeling was somewhat familiar; Eddie had fingered himself countless times before, he wasn’t new to pleasuring his prostate. But this was the first time anyone else had ever touched him there. It was difficult not to focus in on every small sensation, to not grind up against Richie like a virgin being touched for the first time. Richie teased the pad of his finger around his rim and unsurprisingly, Eddie fluttered in response. He could hear Richie’s laugh reverberating in his chest where Eddie laid his head. He closed his eyes and spread his legs a bit wider, silently ushering Richie to continue. The first slip inside was uncomfortable. It always is, no matter how turned on you are, but it was also euphoric in a way Eddie was never able to make it for himself. Richie’s fingers were thinner than Eddie’s, but significantly longer, and soon enough Richie was already in to his knuckle. Eddie breathed steadily, allowing his body to get used to the intrusion. Richie followed his queue, stilling for a moment until Eddie nodded minutely against him, signaling him to continue. The next finger wasn’t too much harder than the first, and soon the discomfort ebbed away to make room for pleasure. Richie worked his fingers in and out, scissoring them to stretch Eddie open as much as possible before a third was added. It felt way better than Eddie had ever imagined it would. Richie’s fingers weren’t clumsy or unsure like Eddie would have thought, they were precise with their pressure and quick to find the spots that made Eddie melt. He went at the perfect pace, allowing Eddie his time to adjust but not waiting too long to lose their momentum. Arousal bubbled hot in Eddie’s stomach, searing his skin at every spot where they were connected. His breathing had become labored, and his hips had begun their own little rotation where he ground himself down into Richie. Every time he did, he felt Richie’s cock twitching against his, eager to escape the slot between them and burry itself inside Eddie. And in that moment, Eddie wanted that more than anything. “Fuck me, now.” Eddie demanded breathily, holding no more space for patience. “You sure you’re ready?” Richie checked, his own breath seeming to stutter. Eddie whined indignantly, raising himself up on shaky knees and grabbing both of Richie’s wrists. He pulled them away, deft fingers slipping out of him easily and falling to the pillow beside Richie’s head where Eddie pinned them. “Now.” Eddie repeated, grinding his ass against Richie’s cock and coating it with lube. “I’m gonna die here and it’s gonna be the happiest day of my life.” Richie rushed out, eyes squeezed shut and face flushed a blotchy red. Eddie removed one hand and reached down to grasp Richie’s cock, marveling once again at its size. He was sure he was going to feel a stretch, but he craved it at this point. With determination and just a little too much arousal for rational thought, Eddie lined himself up and began sinking down. The stretch was… a lot. Eddie let out a pained whimper as Richie’s head breached his rim, and suddenly there were hands all over him, cradling his face, petting his hair, steadying his hips. “Hey, hey, you’re okay.” Richie rushed to comfort him, kissing the spot between Eddie’s eyebrows where he hadn’t realized he’d furrowed them. “We can stop at any point. You want to stop?” Eddie was stubborn, he knew this about himself. He was aware that his stubbornness had gotten him into trouble in the past, but it had also earned him some of the best moments of his life. He didn’t want to end this prematurely and look back on his first time with remorse, but he also didn’t exactly want to rip his asshole open on a high school ski trip. Eddie decided he just needed a minute, so he shook his head and told Richie as much. Richie continued to rub his back, his hair, anywhere his nervous hands could settle. He seemed on such high alert Eddie wasn't sure how his dick wasn't flagging. Eddie winced as Richie inched down the bed carefully, lying himself flatter and pulling Eddie back down to his chest. Eddie closed his eyes and focused on Richie’s heartbeat, feeling Richie moving above him but paying it no mind. He jumped in surprise when Richie’s hand joined his dick, but his body relaxed instantaneously as he felt those soft fingers begin to massage extra lube around his rim. As the seconds passed Eddie could feel himself opening up under Richie’s touch, his muscles relaxing and his temperature rising. Richie was clearly feeling the heat himself, as he’d started to rock his hips gently beneath Eddie’s. The action was gentle, inching him further into Eddie in torturously small increments but not pushing him past his limits. It was beginning to drive Eddie crazy as his craving for more became overpowering, all the pain from before having subsided. Without warning, Eddie pushed himself back on Richie’s cock, feeling his fingers flutter around his hole at the sudden movement. He was quick to use his hand to steady himself at the base of his cock, holding it still for Eddie to fuck back on. Richie let out an elongated breath, swearing profusely at the end of it. It made Eddie blush and move faster, his hips taking on a rhythm of their own. Eddie was on cloud fucking nine. His body lit up like a live wire, electrifying him with every move he made. Richie appeared to be just as affected, his mouth stuck open in an orgasmic ‘o’, his eyes practically rolled back into his skull. Richie had been quick to match Eddie’s pace, thrusting up into him feverously, hands clamped on to Eddie's hip as tightly as Eddie was clamping around his cock. "You're so fucking huge." Eddie moaned, the statement coming out honestly despite sounding like a script from a bad porno. "Holy shit, you can't say stuff like that or I'm gonna blow my load." Richie responded, chest heaving. "I'm serious, it feels like I'm being split open, god Rich." "That mouth of yours is going to get you in trouble." Richie's thrusts were speeding up, becoming more erratic. Eddie almost felt like he was riding a bull, clenching his thighs in a desperate attempt not to be bucked off. "Then shut me up." The response was instantaneous. Richie flipped them over, pressing Eddie into the mattress as he pounded into him mercilessly. He brought one hand up to Eddie's mouth and shoved two fingers against his tongue, forcing Eddie to suck on the digits. Eddie gagged on them like he would Richie's cock, saliva dripping out of the corner of his mouth and mixing with the tears that had escaped without notice. He was completely fucked out, his brain unable to process anything besides Richie. "I'm gonna cum." Richie warned, his orgasm approaching rapidly after being so on edge for so long. Eddie didn't mind, his own release not far behind. "Cum inside me, please, want to feel you." Eddie begged, unaware of his desire until it was suspended right in front of him. "Fuck, unnnf- god, Eddie." Richie said his name like a prayer, bringing his hand up to stroke Eddie's neglected cock. The sensation was downright sinful, the best thing Eddie thinks he's ever felt in his entire life. It caused his toes to curl, most of the muscles in his body seizing up at the pleasure. Richie's hips stuttered a few times and then he was overwhelmed with a warmth deep inside him, Richie's cock pushing through it to press diligently into his prostate. Eddie came with blinding lights in his eyes, his body convulsing as waves upon waves of euphoria flooded his senses. He's pretty sure he screams, but he could have been completely silent and it would have sounded the same to his deaf ears. Eddie's not sure how long he lays there in fucked out bliss, his mind completely separate from his body, but when he finally tunes back into the world around him he's alone in the bed. He looks around to find Richie and spots him crouched on the ground by the fireplace, tinkering with the button to light it up. Electric flames suddenly burst alive behind Richie's silhouette, highlighting his long legs as he stretches back up and turns to regard Eddie. "Hey." His voice is gentle, not quite a whisper but close enough to one that the greeting still felt secretive. "Hi." Eddie matches his tone, his throat appreciating the low register after being abused not too long ago. "I thought I lost you there for a minute." Richie crawled back into bed, pulling the thick duvet over them. "I think you did." Eddie admitted sheepishly. "That was fucking... wow." Richie laughed at the advanced vocabulary Eddie was able to implement at that moment. "Wow is right." Richie agreed, welcoming Eddie as he crowded into his space. The silence fell upon them naturally, their bodies and minds too exhausted to bother with much else. It was a long while until Eddie pipped back up. “Was that your first time?” Eddie asked quietly, his eyes having drifted closed from the comfort of being satiated in such a new way. “Mm-mm.” Richie answered carding his fingers through Eddie’s hair. “First time was with Ally Mae Espin. It was a mess.” Eddie hummed for Richie to continue, too content to respond vocally. “It was in Bill’s garage in 8th grade. It lasted exactly two minutes and neither of us finished. I had blue balls for the rest of the night, but honestly, I didn’t even care. I’d realized as soon as we’d kissed that I wasn’t into her the way she was into me. I don’t regret it, but as far as first times it’s pretty anticlimactic. Literally.” Eddie giggled, nuzzling closer into Richie’s warmth. He felt fuzzy all over, invincible to the evils of the outside world. He thinks he could probably survive an avalanche right now, completely safe inside Richie’s arms. “What about you? How was your first time porking the hog?” Eddie scrunched his nose in disgust, peering up at Richie judgingly. “First of all, ew. Don’t ever call it that again. And also… this was my first time.” Richie’s eyes widened a fraction, an unreadable but unmistakable softness within them. “Shit, Eds. I wish you’d have told me, I would have at least tried to perform better.” Predictably, Richie was trying to hide his vulnerability with humor. Also predictably, Eddie could see right through it. “It was perfect. You were perfect.” Richie seemed to gnaw on the inside of his cheek, so Eddie continued. “Ten out of ten, would pork again.” That earned a surprised laugh from Richie, and Eddie considered his mission accomplished. He could work on Richie’s insecurities more later, but for now, at least he knew Eddie didn’t regret what had happened. They fell back into another stretch of silence, the crackle of the fireplace background noise to their steady breathing. Eddie had almost fallen asleep when Richie spoke again. “Did you always know you wanted to be a mechanic when you were younger?” It took a moment for Eddie to fully re-inhabit his body, wondering why his slumber had been interrupted for such a random question. “Huh?” “You know, kids are so indecisive. One minute it's 'I'm gonna be a doctor' the next it's 'I'm gonna be an alien superstar princess'. Did little Eddie have lots of dream jobs or was it always a mechanic?” Eddie took a moment to think, having to dig through all of the expectations and responsibilities that had piled on top of him over time, shielding his passions and replacing them with pragmatic plans for the future. "I always wanted to be a mechanic. Actually, I even wanted to open my own garage when I grew up." Richie listened intently, allowing Eddie to continue. "My dad was a mechanic. I learned a lot just from watching him, and then when he passed away I continued learning under a guy named Isaac, until mom decided it was too messy and too dangerous for me to be in the shop. I always believed I would grow up, open my own place where my mom couldn't ban me from being, and name it after my dad." Richie's face fell at the mention of Eddie's dad's death and he cursed himself for bringing it up. People always felt uncomfortable at the mention of death, and even though Eddie had long since accepted that his dad was gone, he always had to suffer through people’s weird grief reactions that, more often than not, made him feel worse. However a few moments passed and Richie still hadn't said anything, so Eddie braved a look upwards. "What's your favorite car?" Eddie was taken aback, already in the process of mentally preparing himself to field the same old questions he'd long since memorized his answers to. He blinked a few times, a smile creeping up on him without his permission. Richie continued to surprise him at every turn, and Eddie was absolutely giddy about it. "You're gonna make fun of me." Eddie sighed, infinitely grateful for Richie somehow always knowing exactly what to say and when not to say. "I absolutely will." Richie nodded. "1966 Volkswagen Type 2." Richie seemed to contemplate it, nodding slowly before bursting into a side splitting smile and letting a little laugh go. "You’re right, that's hilarious." Eddie laughed along, but still slapped his chest playfully to at least act offended. He snuggled in closer, settling his head on Richie’s chest. "It's just that the hippie lifestyle doesn't exactly match the Eddie Kaspbrak I've grown to know and lo-" Richie cut himself off just as Eddie's heart skipped, both of them falling silent for a moment before Richie cleared his throat and marched onwards, his own heart beating rapidly in Eddie's ear. "I'd have guessed you were a smart car kinda guy." "Why? Cause I'm small?" Eddie challenged, trying (and failing) to return his heart rate back to normal. "Yeah. Small, compact, can fit a surprising amount in its backseat." Richie moved his hand down from where he'd been rubbing circles into Eddie's lower back and tapped one of his cheeks. "Careful! I'm still tender." Eddie pouted, unknowingly looking far too cute for Richie's fragile sanity. Richie kissed the top of Eddie's head and Eddie kissed him back between his collarbones, absolutely smitten with the way Richie handled him. "I like the freedom of it." Eddie admitted, picking the conversation back up. "I've always felt trapped in this town, it's comforting to think of owning something that can take me anywhere." “Technically anything with two wheels can accomplish that.” Richie pointed out. “Yeah, but with a van I don’t have to worry about where I’m gonna sleep. I can live out of it for as long as it takes me to get to my destination.” “Where is your destination?” “New York.” Eddie answered automatically, surprising the both of them. Richie’s arms tightened around Eddie, erratic laughter falling from his lips. “EDDIE!!!” “WHAT!?” Eddie was being jostled now, Richie’s happiness contagious even though Eddie had no idea what was happening. “NEW YORK IS MY DREAM!” Eddie finally connected the dots, realizing a little late what that meant. If Eddie wanted to move to New York, and Richie wanted to move to New York, then they could theoretically move to New York together. The notion made Eddie’s belly do flips. “Oh, yeah, I guess that is kind of perfect huh?” Eddie answered, far more bashful than he'd expected himself to sound. “We can get a little apartment downtown where you can open your own garage and I can work at whatever coffee shop will hire me while I practice my standup routine on the weekends! We'll be a dynamic duo, running the streets of New York together. It’s FATE!” Eddie couldn’t deny that it did feel like something cosmic was at play. Richie was this boisterous, loud, chaotic puzzle piece that somehow fit perfectly into the slot on Eddie’s board. He pushed Eddie’s boundaries, encouraged him to challenge his world and rethink the ways he’d been taught to live. Being around him was invigorating, but it also felt like home. Eddie realized with terrifying clarity that he didn’t want to spend another day without Richie in his life. He couldn’t fathom how he’d done so before; looking back felt like watching a black and white film in contrast to the technicolor movie magic he was living in now. Richie had lit up a spot in Eddie’s life that he hadn’t even realized had been dark before. Eddie trailed his hand up Richie’s chest and found the back of his neck, tilting his head down to face Eddie. He moved slow, bringing their faces close together so their lips barely touched. Richie’s skin was soft, his lips plump and inviting as they trembled beneath Eddie’s. They breathed each other in as Eddie nosed at Richie, watching as his eyes fluttered closed and his brain took a backseat. Eddie hummed a nearly imperceptible laugh and finally slotted their lips together, lingering in place for just a second before parting. It was teasing, but not in the sense of arousal. Eddie left Richie with a million thoughts on his mind and nothing but big brown eyes as answers. “I think I passed out for a second there.” Richie breathed shakily, effected in exactly the way Eddie’d intended. “You’re going to take me to New York one day.” Eddie decided aloud. Richie was all shy smiles, dipping his head low to try and hide his blush. “I sure fucking hope so.” Richie responded quietly, looking back up at Eddie through inky curls. Eddie pushed his hair to the side, tucking it behind Richie’s ear and letting his hand fall back down to his chest. “You will.” They fell asleep like that, wrapped in each other’s arms with thoughts of the future fueling their dreams. Eddie knew that nothing was guaranteed. Two days can’t rewrite your whole life, and once they left the resort and re-entered Derry, he was sure that all the expectations and pressure he’d superseded were going to come back full force. But somehow, he felt more prepared to face them. They didn’t hold the same weight as they once had, because now Eddie knew he had a whole world outside of the one his mother had built for him to exist within. That world might just be Richie Tozier, but it was a thousand times bigger and brighter than the solitude he’d lived in before. For once, Eddie was excited to live.

#reddie #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #reddie fanfic #reddie fanfiction #reddie smut #reddie lemon #my posts #my writing #OTEOAA

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needs-to-stop-looking-at-valves · 3 years

Note

"YOU SEND THAT AS A REQUEST RIGHT FUCKING NOW YOU WHORE. YOU ARE UNDER LEGAL OBLIGATION TO MAKE ME WRITE THIS." Request a story about it or request NSFW headcanons about it? Either way, do it. Do it now. -💝 Anon

In case you guys are confused, anon is referring to two other asks that essentially means, you guys are about to read Combiner wars Overlord fuck little Percy. Now, let’s fucking GO.

“Would you take a gander at you.”

By some stroke of luck, Overlord managed to catch one of Megatron’s little friends. He only had one, but one was enough to beat the shit out of, get information, then kill. Easy peasy, you’d think. But there was one complication. Overlord REALLY liked this one. A cute little nerd who struggled against his restraints. He had his hands cuffed to the ceiling of the small, dark room they were in, leaving him helpless. He was thinking about doing the same with the legs, but he appreciated the small, scared steps he took to try to get away from him. How cute. Overload’s hands roamed across that frame, much to the unease of the little scientist.

“Cute little face, but a nice, smooth body. You got curves in all the right kinda places. I dig it.”

It was almost evil, the way he was put together. A face that said cute and innocent, with a body that begged to just get fucked raw. Overlord chuckled as he pushed his body towards him with one hand, and held his face in the other.

“Sorry, I think I’m forgettin’ my manners. What did you say your name was?”

“P-perceptor. And you’re Overlord.”

“Ah, good, don’t gotta introduce myself then. Well then, Perceptor- actually. Let me call you Percy, you mind?”

The little mech found himself clam up as Overload’s hands now gripped at his chest. A nice, big rack for him to play with too. Overload gave a light shake of his helm.

“I’ll take that as no, you don’t. Listen here, Percy, I’m diggin how you’re put together. And seein’ as you ain’t doing anything else, imma have a little fun with this body of yours.”

He tried to shove his hand between his legs, only for Percy to jump. It was a decent reflex, enough for him to need his restraints to keep him upright.

“N-no! No thank you! Very kind offer, and I’m honestly flattered, but I’m not interested in ANYTHING like this. At all.”

Now Overlord was a scum bag. A total piece of garbage. But he wasn’t about to take this little cutie if he REALLY didn’t want it. He liked it when they screamed, but the thrashing about honestly was such a pain. But Overlord, being the kinda mech he was, knew how to get bots to see things his way. He grabbed at his bust again, pulling him right back into his front.

“You’re shy. If you really wanted me off of you, you’d be putin’ up much more of a fight. What is it…”

He thought for a moment, before piecing it together. The averted gaze. The only slight hesitation to his touches. Overlord suddenly barked in laughter, patting his little cheek.

“Wait a minute now! I know what’s your deal. Ain’t nobody ever touched you before, huh?”

Percy averted his gaze. So he was right. Not only was this little nerd a snack, he was a snack that no one had taken a bite out of yet. This was too good to be true. He grabbed a hold of that little chin, slowly running his glossa across those little lips. He didn’t turn away, didn’t act grossed out. He was a slut dressed in a nerd packaging. How precious.

“Hey, don’t worry, Percy. I know I’m a big, mean mech, but I’ll go easy on you. I’ll make you like it so bad, you ain’t ever wanna leave this place.”

Overlord pressed his lips against his, and in that moment of surprise, he dipped his servo between his legs, and opened his spike panel. Percy gasped, and tried to move, only to stop. Overlord’s hands were responsible for who knows how many deaths. But right here and now, it felt so good, letting him stroke his spike. It was slow, totally firm against him. Enough to make Percy’s helm fall back, right onto Overlord’s chest.

“Look at ya, liking it already. You like it when a big, mean mech touches you here, don’t you? What about here?”

He reached for the valve panel, only for Percy to jolt away from him. So skittish. Their optics met, and Percy’s was full of embarrassment.

“I...well. I’ve never opened it, apart from medical examinations. You’ll forgive me if I don’t exactly trust you anywhere near it.”

Overlord should've been pissed. But honestly? He was just incredibly amused. He let go of him, only to slowly walk in front of him.

“Percy Percy Percy….come on. I ain’t treating you nothin’ but fair. I know you think I’m mean, but I can be SO nice to you.”

“W-what are you doing?”

“Imma do the best I can~”

Overlord shot him a wink as he got to his knees, and enveloped that spike between his lips. Percy would have fallen to the floor, had it not been for the restraints. Percy was liking it so much, he was absolutely trembling, watching in lustfull adoration as Overlord slowly pushed him back and forth into his mouth. No one even BLEW this helpless thing. Overlord slowly pulled him out of his mouth, watching as Percy tried to excuse his erect, throbbing gerth.

“I-i don’t- I’m not sure If I-”

“Percy, baby, lemme tell you somethin’”

He started, taking moments in between to lick and kiss along that gerth. Each time was met with a fierce, hard throb, Overlord kept thinking the little guy was gonna bust at any moment.

“You’d think amongst this fightin’ combiners, religious mumbo jumbo, even stuff like the titans, I’d be more focused on it. But no. Amongst the lineup of things I wanted to get my hands on, REALLY fuck over, I chose you. I wouldn’t take that lightly. And I’m kinda thinkin’ this is going right out your little audials, ain't it science boy?”

He looked up at the panting, steaming little Percy above him. Overlord WAS going to kill everything in sight, and that little valve was his next target. Overlord got up, and walked back behind him. This time, Percy was far more welcoming to his touches, pushing against him eagerly, and even groaning as he played with that nice, cute bust of his. Overlord popped his spike panel open, and pressed it right up against his lower back. Percy gasped (flattering really), and stiffened in his hands.

“Is. Is t-that-”

“My spike? Mhmm. And it’s gonna fuck that pretty little valve of yours till your bathing in me.”

“W-wait I don’t think it’d f-fit-”

Percy was silenced as Overlord held his hips, and slowly started to run it past his thighs. Dripping in fluids, it fucked his thighs slowly, but nonetheless made him whimper and mewl. He was terrified, but he so wanted it. It was a wonderful smell that made Overlord damn hungry.

“That’s it baby. Loosen up for me. Overlord gonna fuck you nice and good.”

“G-good is the one thing I’m sure this isn’t-”

He was cut off as his valve panel suddenly opened. Now Overlord’s huge, hot spike was gliding against his sensitive, virgin valve. Every time it brushed up against him, he let out a shuddering moan, clearly tempted to bust already. Overlord clicked his glossa, making sure his head brushed up against that cherry red node from time to time.

“You autobots and your ‘good and bad’. My motto is, if it feels good, do it. And you feel REALLY good, Percy. You got a little body just right for a big guy like me.”

That was when he got a firm hold of those hips, and pushed himself in. He could've been more graceful about it, but that valve was practically screaming to have him inside. Percy let out a scream as he overloaded, getting nice and tight around his spike. As if he didn’t feel good enough already. Percy whimpered, maybe in some ploy of mercy, before Overlord caught himself almost snickering. Still keeping a hold of his thighs, he started to move, making Percy give out little cries each and every time.

“There we go. Don’t I feel good, Percy?”

When there was no response, Overlord grabbed his neck, TIGHTLY, and nearly growled in his audial.

“I said, don’t I feel good, boy?”

“Y-you feel very good!”

The line itself was cute, as well as how he said it, but the way he looked. Percy’s mouth was wet in drool, and his body kept itself warm, tight, eager for more. Overlord gripped tighter, liking Percy’s cute little choking sounds.

“You like it when I choke you, don’t you? I wouldn’t be lookin’ all ashamed. A little experimenting never hurt nobody.”

He chuckled. Percy didn’t seem to find it too funny, given the fact that he was too busy taking a spike as big as his forearm. He was handling it so well, Overlord figured he’d reward him. He unclipped the cuffs from above them, and suddenly he was on the floor, holding the little one on his lap, and shoving himself fully inside of him. Percy cried out from all of his nodes suddenly flaring to life with pleasure, but even then, Overlord wouldn’t let him rest. He started to thrust into him, hips darting it to really slam into that valve of his. Percy wasn’t even fighting it. Like Unicron’s darkness, Percy was becoming corrupted in all things guilty and extreme.

“I-i’m not sure I can-!”

“You gonna take it, boy. Look at you. Takin’ it so good already, you can handle the little mess imma make.”

Overlord’s spike was bulging against his plating at every slam, body trying to accommodate its size. Percy felt at the bulge, seeming to be fascinated with it. Overlord swore under his breath. He was so ready for his turn, he wanted this little loser to feel all of him.

“Look at that. Look at how I’m bulging inside of you. That’s MY spike in you, and it’s about to pump you full.”

Overlord used one of his hand to rub at that little node of his, and in but a few moments, they overloaded. Percy was first, nearly screaming as Overlord not only fucked him right through it, but promptly overloaded in him right after. It must've been a while since last he had a little fun, because his spike did NOT go easy on him. Pumping him full of enough overload to bloat him, Percy whimpered and whined the whole way through. Overlord grinned as soon as he felt his processor catch up to the rest of him.

“Hooo...I know I made some messes in my day, but damn aren’t you somethin’ else.”

Overlord held the little mech in his arms, rubbing the bulge still present on his new little toy. Overlord leaned up, one hand groping at those soiled tits of his, and shoving his glossa down his intake. Percy welcomed him fully, groaning and mewling at the attention. Overlord liked to destroy things till they crumbled.

And Overlord was going to do JUST that with Megatron’s little friend.

#asks #lemon #overlord #percy #listen #picture this too #overlord just sticking his dick in percy #and percy just rubbing at the bulge to make him nut inside of him #or the new goth roddy helping by stroking him so he could nut inside that little valve #i have a problem #i need to get laid

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honey-dewey · 3 years

Text

(Hold me Closer) Tiny Dancer

Chapter 6

Pairing: Jack ‘Whiskey’ Daniels/Reader

Word Count: 2,377

Fic Warnings: Non-sexual age regression, split perspective, classification AU, canon-typical violence

Chapter Warnings: age regression, very faint hints of abuse, tiny little tantrums

Taglist: None for this fic. If you want to be added, just ask, but I know this is an odd topic and therefore will not tag anyone unless they ask

Jack’s not exactly the most stable human being on the planet, but when he tests as a Caregiver, all hell breaks loose as someone who was just his work partner suddenly becomes so much more.

Multi-chapter story. Chapter 6 of ? Read Chapter 1 Here

-Mojito-

The screen in front of you was dead black, no image coming up. You were about to ask Ginger if something had gone wrong when a small white light began to glow. A small pop up next to the light prompted you to use your dominant hand to poke the light. You did, a bit confused about the controls, and the light began to expand, until your eyes were filled with nothing but white.

“Holy fuck,” you mumbled, closing your eyes. “That’s bright.”

When the light subsided, you were in a completely different location. It seemed to be a small trailer with all sorts of cards on one wall. As you examined them, you noted they were all in different colors with different symbols.

On the other wall, there was a countertop with a bunch of random stuff scattered around. Empty cans, floppy discs, photographs, some wires, and a couple of other things that made you blink. You slowly reached out to one of the photographs. A pop up told you how to grip things, and you picked the photo up.

It was grainy and a bit wobbly in your virtual hand, but the image was clear enough. It was a picture of all the senior agents at Statesman, all gathered at a bar and smiling widely. You recognized Champ, Ginger, Mai Tai, Manhattan, Margarita, Merlot, and right in the middle, looking so much younger you hardly recognized him, was Whiskey.

You smiled, turning the picture over and seeing the date written on the back. Twelve years ago.

“Damn Whiskey,” you said out loud, knowing he could probably hear you. “How old are you?”

A slight chirping near you shocked you, causing you to turn and laugh. A robot, much like Wall-e if Wall-e had no bottom half, was floating at the front of the trailer. It waved, and you waved back. The robot trilled happily, getting closer to you. It pointed to the virtual photograph you’d dropped, and you picked it up.

“Do you want it?” You asked, holding the photo out to the robot.

The robot took the photo, popping it into a small projector. You grinned, stepping closer and examining the photo further now that it was bigger.

“Do you have any more?” You asked the robot, and it chirped again, pointing to a drawer. You opened the drawer, revealing more photos.

Looking up at the robot, you shook your head. “I can’t waste time buddy,” you said. “Maybe later.”

The robot nodded, opening a cabinet and taking out a small machine with a slot on the top. You nodded, grabbing the red card with the simplistic gun symbol on it and slotting it into the machine.

The trailer began to melt away, leaving you in a rather futuristic shooting range. A wall of virtual guns sat on a wall to your left, and you smiled at the robot, who was waiting patiently by the gun rack. “Let’s do this.”

-Whiskey-

Jack wasn’t the kind of person who got overly impressed by much. However, what he saw in front of him was enough to shock him.

Mojito’s view was on a TV screen in the viewing room, along with a still version of the virtual shooting range. He could see Mojito through the window in front of him, and a tiny part of him was worried about Mojito’s headspace. And then they picked up two guns off the virtual rack and started shooting.

It was a whirlwind of activity, and Jack actually had to stop watching the first TV because it was making him dizzy. Instead, he turned to the second one, watching in complete awe as Mojito took out each target. When it was all over, Mojito had shot their guns twenty six times and they’d successfully hit forty targets.

“Should I do it with another weapon?” They asked, turning to the small robot.

It chirped, holding out a hand with a red button. A pop up told Mojito they could either stay and continue shooting or go back and try another level.

They chose to try another level, looking around and eventually turning towards where Jack and Ginger were sitting. “What time is it?”

Ginger leaned towards a microphone and turned it on. “You’ve got time for one more.”

“Cool.” Mojito examined the cards on the wall, picking up a blue one with ‘Exit’ written on it. “An escape room?”

While they attempted the escape room, something Ginger promised would only take a half an hour, Jack left, heading out to pack a bag for the trip. He ended up in his office with a small bag that had a few essentials. Clothes, toiletries, a book or two, his laptop and charger, and a small travel poker set.

Then he got set on packing Mojito a bag.

It was a bit difficult. Mojito already had a bag of their own leisure clothes and going-out clothes, and their phone and books. Which meant all Jack had to do was pack a Little’s bag.

He picked up an unassuming duffle bag, carefully attracting a tag with Mojito’s name and agent number. They were traveling public, which meant Jack had to be very careful about what was packed. He’d already done his own carry-on, and Mojito had theirs, but this final bag was giving him absolute hell.

Jack ended up taking so long that Mojito finished what they were doing and came to find him.

“What is taking you so long?” They asked, knocking on the open door frame.

“Just confused,” Jack admitted, turning to Mojito. “Actually, why don’t you help me. You’ll be wearing these clothes anyway.”

Mojito walked over to stand with Jack, overlooking the clothes in the closet. “Well, grab a couple onesies. I like this one that I have on right now, but we might need some fleecyer ones. I bet Kingsman has some stuff, so if we forget some things, it’ll be okay.”

Jack pulled out a few onesies, some fleecy and some not. He automatically added socks, letting Mojito sift through the less pyjama-y clothes.

“Here.” They handed him a few pairs of folded pants. “I’ve got shoes in my bag already.”

After the pants went in, Mojito and Jack grabbed a few more shirts, two sweaters, and a set of winter accessories just in case.

“Why don’t you take the bags that are done out to the Bronco,” Jack said, looking at the mostly full Little’s bag. “I’ll be right down with this one.”

Mojito nodded and left, carting the bags down the halls. Jack immediately began to pack everything else. Diapers, pull-ups, a few toys he knew Mojito liked, books, and a soft blanket they’d gotten attached to.

In his carry-on, Jack put a pacifier and a few small toys, just in case.

“Ready?” Mojito asked, standing in the doorway.

“Ready.” Jack put the bag over his shoulder and smiled. “Let’s go.”

Their ride to the airport was easy, considering it wasn’t far. The TSA line was hellish, but it was always hellish. As soon as they exited TSA, Mojito pulled a stuffed bear out from their carry-on, gripping it tightly.

“You good ‘Jito?” Jack asked, seeing Mojito’s clearly uncomfortable face.

“Haven’t flown public in a while,” Mojito admitted. “It’s weird.”

Jack nodded his agreement. “It’s only ten hours,” he promised. “And it’s partially an overnight flight, so you can nap.”

Mojito hummed, clinging to the bear tighter. “Okay.”

The plane itself was nice, because of course Statesman wanted them to be comfortable, but Mojito kept getting more and more nervous as Jack found their seats, looking around with wide eyes until they squeaked when the plane actually took off, shaking violently.

“Mojito,” Jack murmured, taking Mojito’s hand and startling them. “Hey, kiddo, look at me.”

Mojito nodded, their death grip on the teddy bear wrinkling the clothes the bear was wearing. “Scared.”

Jack sighed, reaching across the seat divide to give Mojito a hug, rubbing their back and humming softly. “It’s okay kiddo. I hear ya, I know it’s scary.”

It took a minute for Mojito to relax. They tried moving their thumb to their mouth, but Jack was faster. He grabbed the pacifier he’d packed, offering it to Mojito, who took it hesitantly. Once properly reassured, Mojito snuggled up to Jack, sighing loosely and falling asleep quickly.

The plane ride was calm from there. No turbulence, no major issues, and Mojito woke up just as the plane was landing. They shuffled around a bit, yawning and almost losing their pacifier. Jack caught it before it could hit the floor, smiling and offering it back to Mojito, who took it happily.

Getting off the plane was a trip. Jack had done this a thousand times, but never with a sleepy Little holding his hand. Mojito rubbed their eyes, shuffling behind Jack as he collected their bags. It was a bit of trouble, lugging along three bags, but he was a Statesman. He could do it.

Eggsy was waiting for him, leaning against a car and smiling. “Whiskey.”

“Eggsy,” Jack greeted, putting the bags down and noting that Mojito was hiding behind him. Smiling, he urged them out, feeling them grip his jacket. “This shy little thing is Mojito, my partner.”

Eggsy leaned down, holding a hand out to Mojito. “Well hello there. I’m Eggsy.”

Mojito peered out from behind Jack. “Eggy?”

“Yeah!” Eggsy said, causing Mojito to brighten. “I’m good friends with your daddy.”

Immediately, Jack corrected him. “Oh no, we ain’t-”

“Daddy!” Mojito said happily from behind him, cutting him off.

Jack sighed. “Okay.”

Eggsy chuckled, leading Jack and Mojito to the car. “This’ll take us to our new headquarters. Thanks to Statesman, we were able to rebuild quickly.”

The ride was quiet. Mojito, who was completely exhausted despite sleeping for most of the flight, fell asleep practically on Jack. Eggsy and Jack talked, catching up on recent events. Apparently Eggsy had kept his title of Galahad and Harry had been made the new Arthur. They’d continued to recruit, and the position of Merlin had been filled by someone Ginger had recommended.

“We’re here.” Eggsy said, stepping out of the car and popping the trunk so he could help Jack with his luggage. Jack got out, convincing Mojito to get out too. They grumbled, rubbing their eyes and complaining.

“Shh,” Jack hushed as Mojito began to whine. “Behave.”

Mojito crossed their arms and pouted, but did as asked and stopped whining.

Eggsy took them through the building, showing them their room.

“Ginger said you had a Little, so there’s a nursery attached,” he said as he opened the door. “We haven’t got many Littles, but there are enough of them. If you want, Geraint, Bedivere, and Lamorak are downstairs. They’re our Littles. Mojito could go play while you get properly caught up. I’m sure Harry will want to talk to you.”

“I wanna go with Daddy!” Mojito insisted, taking firm hold of Jack’s coat sleeve.

“‘Jito, kiddo, why don’t you go meet the other Littles?” Jack tried. “I’m sure they’ll be much more fun than sitting in a boring room with me and Eggsy.”

Mojito turned their eyes on Jack’s face. “Don’t wanna leave you,” they said, less insistent and more fearful.

Jack’s heart hurt, and clearly Eggsy could see it too. “Why don’t we all meet in the Little’s center,” he suggested. “That way Mojito doesn’t have to leave you, but we can still get caught up.”

It was a good idea, one that Mojito accepted with no trouble. They skipped down the hall, humming some earworm from a recent disney movie. Their previous fear was long gone now that they wouldn’t be removed from Jack’s side.

The Kingsman Little center was less of a center and more of a single room. It had neutral colored walls and a soft carpet with comfortable looking furniture. There were toys scattered around, along with three Littles, all gathered around a large dollhouse. They all looked over when Eggsy opened the door, immediately crowding around him and happily cheering. Mojito whimpered and hid behind Jack, gripping his coat with surprising strength.

“Mojito?” Eggsy said, turning to look for the missing Little. “Mojito? Do you want to meet the others?”

Mojito firmly shook their head and went back to hiding behind Jack.

Jack sighed. “They’ve never met another Little, at least not that we know of.”

Eggsy nodded. “So they’re nervous?”

“Yeah, probably. I still don’t want to push it.” Jack led Mojito to the table where the adults would meet. “Mojito, kiddo, why don’t you sit here? I’m sure Eggsy can help me find some coloring pages for you.”

Mojito nodded, settling at the table and nervously watching the other three Littles as Eggsy herded them back to the dollhouse.

“I wanna sit with Eggy!” One of them said, tugging on Eggsy’s sleeve and looking desperately at the table. “Please!”

Jack sighed, meeting Eggsy’s eyes. “Fine. But you have to be quiet,” Eggsy bargained. “Our guest is very scared right now and needs you to be quiet.”

The Little nodded, eagerly grabbing a coloring book and a box of crayons and sitting across from Mojito, who shied away and gripped Jack’s coat sleeve.

“Hi,” the Little said quietly, waving at Mojito. “I’m Dew, but Eggy calls me Bevidere.”

“Bedivere,” Eggsy corrected, sitting next to Dew and smiling. “Jack, Mojito, this is Agent Bedivere, but their civilian name is Dewey.”

Dewey smiled, passing a coloring page to Mojito. “Wanna color?”

Mojito nodded, nervously taking the coloring page and grabbing a blue crayon from the pile on the table. Jack grinned, looking over as Harry entered the room.

“Ah, I see we’re all coloring,” he said, sitting at the head of the table. “Dewey, what have you got?”

“A space man!” Dewey proudly held up a half-colored picture of Boba Fett.

“And you?” Harry turned to Mojito. Mojito looked up, holding up a picture of R2-D2.

Harry smiled. “Very well done young Mojito.”

Mojito’s face broke into a grin and they went back to coloring.

“Harry,” Jack said. “Pardon my interruption, but if we could focus?”

“Apologies Whiskey,”

“Just Jack will work.”

Harry didn’t even skip a beat correcting himself. “Jack. So, what do you want to know?”

#kingsman the golden circle #kingsman #agent whiskey #jack 'whiskey' daniels #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey x you #Pedro Pascal #My writing

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blueberrypossum · 3 years

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A Colorful Massacre Mickey x Reader

Hey guys!!! Yup, it’s Mickey’s turn to be placed in the love boat. This story is going to be a little different than my previous ones( sorry no making out and such). This story is based on one of the scenes from the movie Harley Quinn: Birds of Prey. I really like the action scenes, especially where Harley goes into the police station and I thought it would be a perfect fit( some scenes will be altered and so will dialogue). Hope you guys enjoy it! Also, I might’ve made the reader a little bit crazy, I try to change up the personalities with each reader to give each writing a difference.

Word Vocabulary:

(F/C)- Favorite color (these will be labeled 1 and 2 because you’ll need two signature colors, like Harley Quinn with red and blue)

(L/N)- Last name

⚠️WARNING⚠️: There are some cuss words and graphic content (such as fight scenes, gore, and even death.)

You rechecked the location on your phone before you headed over to one the many police stations in the Hidden City, your hands checking to make sure you had everything. Of course the Mud Dogz had to get caught on their last heist, their faces being plastered all over the city in the announcement of their capture. You huffed in a gust of air as the annoyance almost gave you a headache.

Of course those idiots had to get caught on your week off.

They all crossed your mind in a series of flashes, the picture of Mickey instantly stopping and staining your eyes. The eel somehow wrapped his long body around your heart, literally, if he could he would. You never thought you would go for the hippie type, but hey, in your opinion it was the best option.

You strapped your gloves on tighter as you finally made it to the police station they were being held at, the enormous building almost touching the dirt surface. Police officers walked around you as you made your way to the front door, not even taking notice of you or your long coat that covered you. You brushed your hand through your hair and waved your fingers at a passing guard, who couldn’t help but stare as you burst yourself through the front doors.

You were always the one to make a grand entrance.

The waiting area was almost completely empty, except for one yokai in one of the waiting chairs and the police officer behind the counter.

Oh this is too easy.

You casually walked over to the yokai that was sitting; a young woman who was casually reading a newspaper. She eyes you as you get closer and how lazily bent over, your lips barely hovering over her ear as you whisper unholy nothings into her ear. The woman slowly got up, terror crossing through her face as she left her newspaper and made her way out of the station. You waved goodbye to her and headed towards the cop at the front counter, the officer instantly took notice of your choice of outfit.

Even with the male officer seeing you coming, you rang the bell next to him anyways, giving him a bright smile as he looked up.

He let out a long sigh as he questioned, “Can I help you?”

You leaned your elbows onto the counter as you stated, “Yes, good ol’ officer, I’m here to report terrible crime.” You tipped your sunglasses down to show the sarcastic wink you gave him.

The officer took the wink as some kind of joke and relaxed his shoulders and leaned back in his chair.

“And what terrible crime is that?”

And with that you pulled your long coat back, revealing the multiple canisters of paint, confetti, hacky sacks, and smoke bombs strapped against your chest, along with a shotgun to use those canisters as ammo. You stripped yourself of your sunglasses as you pulled your shotgun off of your shoulder.

You aimed it at him as you stated, “This one.”

The male yokai quickly went for his gun, but you were just a little faster; you shot a red hacky sack right between his eyes, not only knocking him back but also breaking his glasses.

As he went slack against the wall, you took your coat off to give you more room to work as you rounded off to the side, letting yourself through the ringing metal detector.

“Alright, now let’s have some fun.”

You reloaded your shotgun with another hacky sack and headed over to two yokai’s, one being a bird and the other being a dog, both enjoying a cup of coffee. You cocked the weapon at the bird yokai and gave him a wicked smile.

“Hiya boys.” And shot the red footbag at the officer. The eagle went flying backwards as you went for the dog officer, you leg swinging the coffee out of his hands and then used the underside of the shotgun to knock him out.

You reloaded the weapon again with your (F/C 1) smoke bomb and aimed it to one of the closest meeting halls, shooting the beautiful color and then slammed the door shut, quickly sliding a door under the handle. The banging against the door filled your ears as cops started to realize what exactly was happening, a crazy yokai was storming through the police station and no one has stopped them yet. Two more yokai ran towards you and with a few swift moves you shot one with confetti and another with (F/C 2), sending a female yokai through one of the windows into an office. You looked at the chaos around you and let out a light chuckle.

Oh, this is going to be fun indeed.

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

“Mick, I don’t think you can chew the bars off with your teeth.”

“Well, you don’t see Danny putting his teeth to work!”

“Hey! I ain’t ruinin’ these pearly whites.”

The Mud Dogs slid down against the bars as they, once again, ran out of ideas to bust out of jail. They had been stuck at the police station for over a few hours now, each one of their usual plans for busting out no longer worked due to them reusing those plans over and over.

The electric eel would twiddle his thumbs if he had any, so would create little sparks between his little nubs, the power reducing collar around his neck taking away most of his shocking abilities. They were in all separate cages as well and were with about a dozen other prisoners. With the police station being enormous, the three men had a clear view from the front entrance all the way out to the evidence locker.

The ogre rolled his eyes as he crossed his arms and Danny let out a low gust of air as he pulled his arms out of the bars and let them hang.

Mickey let out a bored sigh as a guard walked past, a ugly frown over her face as she eyed the members of the Mud Dogs. Leonard growled as she walked past and the officer quickly made her way to the next section, Mickey couldn’t help but let out a chuckle at the sight.

“Easy now, Double L, you might scare her off.”

Mickey let his mind start to wonder and he instantly thought of you. He would be hanging out with you if he wasn’t in jail, both of you either playing games or walking the streets and stealing other yokai’s wallets. Before you came along, the eel never thought that he would find someone like you, especially someone who has gotten the best of him. But, after you successfully saw right through one of his stealing tricks, he felt like it was love at first sight. Of course, it took a lot of trust, and the rule to not steal from each other after the 20th time of doing so, for the both of you to begin a friendship. Now, Mickey gave you anything he stole that he thought you would like.

A sudden scream came from the front entrance and almost every prisoner looked up, even some getting up and tried to look through the bars. Mickey didn’t pay much attention to it since it was the police station after all, it was probably someone’s first time getting arrested and they were just having a fit. Danny was trying to peek through the bars and a small gasp escaped this throat.

“Holy shit! Mick, is that your dame?”

Mickey was in awe as you reloaded your shotgun as officers from the opposite side of the holding area started to race out and you perfectly aimed for the first yokai that came up to you first, easily shooting a blue hacky sack into his right shoulder. As he went down, you effortlessly put in another bag and instantly headshot the cop behind him.

Both Leonard and Mickey hopped up from their spot as other prisoners got interested in the commotion. At the front of the entrance to the cages, (F/C 1 and F/C 2) pooled around the floor as an officer yokai was tossed into the middle of the row of cages. And within the clouds of colors popped out you, the colors ever so fading into your clothes and hair as a devilish smile spread across your face.

Both Danny and Leonard rolled their eyes at the eel’s starstruck expression, of course they were going to be saved by you, you were the only one crazy enough to come here and go up against several cops alone. They were just shocked that you had made it this far without getting shot.

The eel could feel his tail curl in content as he watched you take on another two guards, moving your hands to the middle of the gun to hit the one closest to you with the grip of the gun. You hit the wooden end against the yokai’s nose a few times before you turned your attention to the other cop, throwing the gun right between his legs.

As you made your way out of the colorful gas, the male yokai you shot in the shoulder got up, his fingers pulling out his plastic paton and raced towards you. You quickly ducked as he missed the target and then swung your shotgun over your shoulder, twirling it until it directly aimed at the officer, and a bust of confetti exploded against his face.

“Hahahahahaahah. Oh wow.”

You let out a cackle as he let out a cry and you swing your gun against his head, instantly knocking him out.

The prisoners were screaming your name now, not in cheer, but in hate. They knew who you were, they knew who you worked for, and they knew they would rather have you caught than their own freedom.

You reloaded your shotgun just in time as a female officer came down the stairs, her tail swishing back and forth in anger as she pulled out her gun. You used your longer gun to push her arm away, the bullet meant for your head busted into the ceiling, your strength barely being about to hold the woman’s arm against the wall. You kicked her behind her knee and twisted her arm as she came down, using her back as a stable place to aim as another officer came from the smoke behind you, the paint canister smashing into his head, two different colors blending into the walls.

You brought your shotgun down against the female yokai’s head and watched as her body went limp on the ground, a sweaty breath escaping your throat as you waited for more cops to come and stop you. When none showed up, you took in the room around you, smiling as you saw the Mud Dogz, and then finally heard the other criminals roaring at you in rage.

“You stole my life-savings!”

“Hiya, puddin,” you purred as your boyfriend stared at you, blush crossing his cheeks as took in your beaten and overworked body, how the colors you chose for your smoke bombs brighten the shine in your eyes.

“You’re the reason why I’m in here!”

You gave a polite wave to everyone as you made over to Mickey’s cage, blood staining your teeth as you smiled at him.

“Hey, lovebugs, we still need to get out of here,” he grumbled, his eyes swinging over to the furious yokai’s in the cages, trying to make as much racket as they could so that anyone could hear them.

“Just hold on for one second, sweethearts.” You said and then rammed the handle of your gun into the closest criminals throat, before he could even utter your name. The male yokai choked a few times as you repeatedly slammed the shotgun into his throat. You then crashed your gun into the side of his head and then into his leg, bringing him down. The next culprit charged towards you and you instantly got ready, your boyfriend immediately knowing what you were going to do.

“Right, just give a minute to find a key,” you said and was about to start the search for keys, until a pounding alarm came on, causing you and almost everyone else to cover their ears. One of the officers, too afraid to come and face you, went to the control room instead and got the brilliant idea to unlock all the cages, except for the Mud Dogz. When the ringing stopped, you looked up to see the prisoners crawl out of their cages, sinister smiles on their faces as you were outmatched from 12 to one. You rolled your shoulders and popped your neck as you looked back at the Mud Dogz with a smirk.

Oh how you were a walking masterpiece was all he could think in his mind until Leonard bursted inside his bubble.

“Batter up!” The eel warned, and your gun went straight into his mouth as you rocked the weapon as a baseball bat. The yokai went flying and the strength behind the blow made him flip over, barely missing his head as he landed on the floor. With you being out of ammo for your shotgun, you threw it across the room, hitting a female yokai in the stomach and then jumped her, your legs wrapping around her as you hands went for her throat.

“Hey! I’m going as fast as I can! I already dealt with the officers up front!” You hollered as a pair of hands went around your throat and slammed you against the prison bars, the cold metal drilling into your back. You spat the leftover blood in your mouth into his face and then slammed your elbow into his elbow pit and twisted his arm until he went limp in your arms.

“Ah, Mick, your doll is pretty, violent,” the rat said, his eyes growing wide as your fist made contact with someone’s face and then groin area.

“Yeah, isn't it amazing?” The ell cooed, both of the Mud Doz crew disgusted to see a little drool dripping out of his mouth.

You then slid under a female cat yokai and to one of the unconscious officers and dug through their pockets. Luck seemed to be on your side as you found the keycard, and then you found fingers digging into your arms as two prisoners pulled you back and tossed you across the room.

You blinked a few times to see a few figures coming towards you, barely being able to make out their faces. You quickly tried to make out the Mud Dogz and then slid the keycard over to the closest cage that they were in before a female hyena punched you in the gut. Danny was the closest and he used his tail to bring the card closer, working his fingers fast as the criminals got closer to you. The rat tossed the card to Mickey as he went over to help you, his claws already tearing into one of the prisoner's back that was closest to him. Mickey used the card to get the collar off and then to unlock the door, tossing the plastic card over to Leonard as he slithered over to the battle.

The ogre gripped the bars around him, “Yeah, but we are losing time. Y/N needs to get the keys and us out before more show up!”

A grunt escaped your lips as you rubbed your head from the impact. You could feel a hard headache start to form in the back of your skull as you tried to take in your surroundings, someone was yelling your name.

You were being choked out during all of this, red slowly starting to cover your face as you lost the will to breath. You kicked the female in the stomach but she didn’t budge.

The strong hands released you and you crawled away to see Mickey curl around the female hyena, instantly shocking her once her hands left your body. You took in a few gulps of air and watched as the Mud Dogz took care of the rest of the prisoners. You let out a breathy laugh and laid yourself back down, allowing yourself to take a break during all the chaos.

“Y/N! Y/N! Get up!”

“Come onnnn. Budge motherfucker,” you gasped out, and the hyena yokai let out a raspy cackle as her fingers dug deeper into your throat.

Mickey was beside you as you took the well-deserved break, his flippers fanning you as Leonard and Danny picked up the cops electric guns.

You looked around, the sprinkle of rainbow confetti, paint, and the smoke from the canisters. The floor was littered with bodies, both cops and criminals knocked out or were whining against the concrete. Your nose was bleeding and bruises painted your body, but the thrill that traveled through your body was an excellent adrenaline high.

“May I join?”

“Did I do good?” You rasped out and the eel helped you up.

“Huh, I guess you’re right. No one messes with Y/N fucking L/N!”

“Just take me to that new restaurant downtown and we’ll call it even.”

“Of course, babe! I mean, look at the mess!”

The teal eel planted a kiss on your cheek as he helped you stay steady on your feet, a laugh wheezing out of his throat at you cursing your own name.

“Pretty sure they’ll be waiting there, let’s go through the back.”

You both regrouped with Danny and Leonard and started to head over to where you came from, but Leonard stopped you all.

“We owe you big time for this.”

As the rat and ogre made their way towards the back, the long eel took a hold of your hand and pulled you close, a little giggle escaping your lips as you both enjoyed a tender kiss.

#rottmnt #tmnt #rottmnt malicious mickey #rottmnt mud dogs x reader #rottmnt mickey x reader #mickey x reader

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kareofbears · 4 years

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desperate as that sounds

Five times Ryuji ran for Akira (and one time he ran for himself.)

—

read on ao3 or below the cut :)

It’s 4:45 am with the weather sitting at a brutal -3 degrees when Ryuji really starts wishing that he brought another jacket.

People are lined around Akihabara by the hundreds outside of closed electronic stores, and the sun has yet to even rise. Some people are yawning, some are clutching their rapidly cooling coffee in a death grip, and most have dark, purple bags underneath their eyes—proof of the battle scars that they’ve acquired. Every person here had the same goal in mind: To get what they need and get out as quick as possible.

As it turns out, if everyone has that same mindset, it creates the violent, yearly November tradition that is Black Friday.

Glancing around, he notices that people came in packs, teams. Teenagers and pre-pubescent kids are all scuffling around, hyping themselves up and creating strategies for the war to come. The more seasoned veterans of the yearly massacre came in pairs—the smaller the group, the faster you move, the move land you cover.

At the biggest electronic store in a region that’s already been nicknamed ‘Electronic Town,’ he is fourth in line—an impressive feat, especially for a first-timer. But it came with a heavy toll: he is completely and utterly alone.

”Skull, do you read me?”

Well, physically alone, anyway.

“Loud and clear,” he replies, readjusting the mic in his ear. “Not that I mind, but what’s with the codenames?”

Futaba scoffs. “You think Black Friday is just about the physical aspect? Foolish boy—the psychological aspects are half the battle. If I get you into the mindset that we’re in a Palace, then you’ll get into infiltration mode, and you’ll be OP compared to the nerds out there.”

“Ooo, I like it! Your brain is effin’ galaxy sized!”

“I do what I can for my faithful pack mule.”

“I’ll try not to take that personally.”

His deal with Futaba had been a simple one. She helps Ryuji navigate the horrors of Akihabara during Black Friday in exchange that he acts as what is essentially a drug trafficker sans the drugs. Despite her rigorous societal training she’d undergone with the Thieves, something about entering a borderline stampede still seems somewhat unappealing to her. Besides, he doesn’t mind. He’d always wanted to do something nice for Futaba anyway, and the store that has her computer thing is the same store that holds what he needs.

”Five minutes to go,” her voice crackles into his ear. ”Infiltration route—go!”

Their deal had also come in with an intense tutorial session that ended up lasting until one in the morning. “Floor 4, down 3 aisles, 8 steps in, turn right, second shelf, grab a box that says ‘GTX graphics card.’ Pink, if possible.”

“A+, Skull! You know, if you can memorize that, I seriously don’t get why you’re failing English verbs.”

“Please, this is actually important.”

Futaba cackles. “Now you’re speaking my language. With your legs and my navigation, this’ll basically be a Tuesday afternoon in Leblanc.”

People around him are starting to straighten up, some going as far as to remove the extra layer of clothing and shoving it in backpacks for maximum speed and minimum restrictions. “Damn, people here look more intense than some dudes in my track meets.”

“If you’re throwing out portable chargers with 30-hour battery life for only 800 yen, you’d be a little intense too.”

Ryuji scoffs and begins to stretch, being extra sure to get his right thigh. “I’m plenty intense. Just last Saturday, I almost beat the Big Bang Burger challenge.”

“Pretty sure Akira beat that on his second week in Tokyo. You know, you still haven’t told me why you’re bothering with this whole Black Friday mess. I didn’t peg you for an electronics type of guy, and your phone is as crappy as your posture.”

“Rude! But I can’t argue with that.” He starts to run in place, and for a brief second, he wonders if he should’ve packed a protein shake.

“Well, too late now. If your thing sells out because you didn’t want to give your Navi information, that’s on you.”

“Gimme some credit, Futaba,” an employee who looks equal parts sleep-deprived and terrified approaches the glass doors. “Ain’t no way in hell I’m failing either of us this morning.”

The glass slides open, and as if sunlight was released from the captivity of the clouds, or perhaps a meteor just broke through the earth’s atmosphere, the people start pushing, shoving, and flooding inside. The crowd looked both impenetrable and unwavering; an unstoppable force and an immovable object rolled into one giant stream of desperate shoppers.

Ryuji spares a split-second to crack his neck. Mission Start.

The moment he breaks through the initial threshold, people who were only one step behind him suddenly became ten, twenty, thirty. Weaving through crowds and aisles with the precision of a seamstress, Ryuji evades it all with ease.

”Skull, status report.”

“Smooth sailing, Oracle!” He ducks as an overly buff businessman turns around with a 3-metre pole used for studio lighting threatens to bash his head in. “You’re totally right about the codenames, by the way. It’s almost like I’ve got Captain with me.”

“Right?” She laughs. “It’s all about the mindset.”

Ryuji turns, and finally gets to the stairs—the most brutal section and the biggest gamble. It’s the reason why it was essential that he’s one of the first in line. Once the stairs get jammed with people, it’s game over. Making a mad dash up four flights of stars, he thanks any God that may be that Palaces are fantastic for rehab.

He makes it to the top, panting. It’s empty, save for a few nervous-looking employees. He hopes the smile he throws their way came off as ‘pleasant and grateful for their service’ rather than ‘a delinquent asshole who might steal loads of shit.’

“Down 3 aisles, 8 steps,” he mutters to himself as he quickly scans the fourth floor. “Turn right, second shelf,” eyes landing on his target, he grins. “I effin’ rock.”

”You got it?”

“Of course I did!” He fist pumps before swiping the box. In his excitement, he nearly runs over to give a random employee a high-five. “Alright Oracle, you’re up.”

”I love you so much in a non-weird way. Okay,” he hears the clacking of keys on the other side of the mic. “What do you need?”

“Two words: game console.”

The clacking stops. “You’re joking.”

Ryuji snorts. “I ain’t waking up at 3 in the morning for a joke.”

”Those are hard enough to get as is, and on a day like this—”

“So you can’t do it?”

In the same way every one of the thieves know they could bait Ryuji with a few choice words, it’s a lesser-known fact that Futaba is quite nearly as bad when it comes to open defiance. “Jerk. Of course I can.”

“Then let’s do it!”

“Ugh, fine!” The clacking resumes, more vigorously. “Yikes, only 3 left. Make it quick!”

“Got it,” he replies. He turns around and his stomach drops as he sees people rushing in. “What floor?”

“Third.”

Ryuji groans. The stairs, with people packed in like sardines, are a circus. It would take at least two minutes to try and go down a single flight of stairs. The elevator is even worse, and he honestly wouldn’t be surprised if it had already started to malfunction. Only one choice, then.

He takes a deep breath. “Pray for me.”

”Godspeed, soldier.”

Ryuji, like a wild animal on the loose in the streets of Tokyo, jumps on the handrails and begins his descent that way, begging to the skies that he doesn’t slip and create a domino effect that knocks down a dozen people.

In thirty seconds flat (with no small amount of cursing from both the customers and himself) he jumps off and lands (tumbles) onto the third floor, grinning triumphantly. Eat your heart out, Sumire.

“Oracle, I’m here. Almost broke my ankles. Where to?”

”Straight ahead,” she replies. ”Only one left, though. Better make it quick.”

His eyes land on the last game console, and he sees someone making their way towards it. “Not a problem.”

Ryuji sprints.

Throwing every societal rule and common courtesy into the air, he makes a mad dash and, somehow, miraculously does not bump into anyone or knock down any huge shelves.

In approximately 3 seconds, he grabs his treasure and yells a very loud but completely genuine “sorry!” over his shoulder as he half runs back to the stairs, face red for multiple reasons.

Delving back into the sea of the crowd, trying to navigate himself to the cash register, he sighs. “I’m going to hell.”

”Mission success, then?”

“I had to steal it from some guy! I feel so bad. What if he’s like, buying it for his long lost son or something?”

”Whatever! That’s just part of the Black Friday spirit. Congrats! At least you finally got a game console.”

“Huh? Oh, I already had one.”

Static crinkles in his ear, before, ”WHAT!?”

“Ow! Don’t yell!”

”You already had one and you still did this shopping run?”

“Yeah…?”

”Why?! Are you gonna sell it? Are you one of those sleazy men who take advantage of the good will of gamers, Sakamoto?”

“Hell no!”

”So—“

“Oops, almost at the front of the cash register. I’ll drop off the goods at Akira’s. Talk to you later, shortie.”

Click.

”Wha— Hey! Ryuji!” Silence. “Ugh!”

————

After a much-deserved nap, Futaba climbs up the stairs to Akira’s attic.

“The star has arrived!” she says in lieu of a greeting. “Where’s Ryuji?”

“He left,” Akira answers. He’s looking at something on his worktable. “Your stuff is on the bed.”

Futaba whoops and snatches up the little plastic bag. Peering inside, she sees an adorable GTX hot pink graphics card, and a note. In a horrific scrawl, it writes: dont tell him plz ;)))

She looks up quizzically when her eyes land on Akira’s desk: A shiny new game console.

“Um…”

“Hmm?” he looks up. “Oh, Ryuji dropped it off. Said his mom won it at work, and since he already had one, he gave it to me. Nice, right?”

She opens her mouth, before closing it with a clack. Just two weeks ago, Ryuji had asked Akira in the group chat if they could play video games at his place. Sometimes, it’s easy to forget about Akira’s situation: false accusation, an attic for a room, no definitive meals, not even a proper bathroom in the building, but Akira plays it off like it’s easy. He answered by making a joke that he’s too poor for something like that when you can buy faux battle axes and realistic shotguns instead. Everyone had forgotten about that interaction.

But apparently, Ryuji hadn’t.

He’s an idiot, Futaba thinks. To which boy she’s referring to, she’s not sure.

“Yeah,” is what she says instead. “It’s nice.”

====

The dust motes flying around the attic of Leblanc are lovely. Swirling in senseless formations, floating through the still air like snow. The way none of them collide with each other, as if they have some sort of motion detector that tells them to move out of the way. It’s pleasing to look at.

It’s a shame Ryuji doesn’t give a single shit about them at this moment.

He’s sitting on Akira’s bed, back pressed against the window sill with his hair tipped up, staring unfocused at the wooden beams, eyes glazed over. He’s been like this for the better part of the day, and now the evening is slipping by him. Time continues ticking on like a rigged bomb; an ongoing reminder of how many seconds he’s losing, and how much more he can lose.

He’s considered moving. To walk around the room, shift the dust that’s surely settled on him. Getting up, stretching his legs, outwardly expelling some of his trapped, balled up energy is a good idea. Healthy, even, if those shitty YouTube videos he’s watched on his phone about anger management were on to something. But he can’t. He shouldn’t.

Amidst all the uncertainty and the wound-up anxiety that has currently made permanent residence deep inside his core, he knows that if lets his joints unlock, he’s going to fucking lose it.

Slam a fist inside the dry wood, tear up a blanket, throw the adorable ramen bowl he gave Akira against the wall until it shatters into a hundred pieces. He’s so terrified of ruining this room that he won’t even give himself the option. And Ryuji would rather let hell freeze over than scare Futaba again in his fit of fucked-up rage that comes with the package that is Sakamoto Ryuji.

So he’s stuck on the bed for God knows how long.

Footsteps come up, and he doesn’t need to look down to know who’s going to chew him out. If it’s not Akira that’s going to chide him out of his stupor (which it isn’t, even though Ryuji would do anything if it means that Akira’s back here with them), then they’d send in someone who’d drag him out of it with her nails perfectly manicured.

“You look terrible.”

“Screw off,” Ryuji spits automatically, and he cringes inwardly. Ann doesn’t deserve the sharp end of his horrible mood. It’s not her fault that it feels like his insides feel like they’re trying to eat their way out.

She ignores him and moves to hop on top of the old work desk. The wood creaks underneath her. “You’ve been here all day.”

“I know.”

“Did you sleep last night?”

“Yes. No.” He feels Ann’s stare burn into the side of his face—a ghost of Carmen’s presence. “I don’t know.”

“He wouldn’t want to see you like this.”

Irritation swells in him. She’s never learned to take a hint in her life. “Really? Are you seriously saying that?”

“Are you saying he would?”

“I’m saying he’s too busy having the living shit beat out of him to see me like this.”

His body twitches, and that’s all he needed for his resolve to break down. He jumps from the bed, feet landing heavily enough that he’s sure they can all hear him from the floor below. Unconsciously, his feet pace around the small room; quick with agitation but heavy with dread. Anything to distract from doing something stupid.

“You’re worried about me, what, not sleeping? For lying down on this damn bed for too long? Screw that. Akira’s being grilled like cheap meat for the past couple of days and you’re expecting me to act normal about it? That’s bullshit.”

Bad. This is bad. His fingers are already curling in his fists, eager and all too willing to be used. He settles for balling the edge of his shirt instead.

“He isn’t here. That’s the fact, isn’t it? And what the fuck am I doing about it? Freaking out? Trying not to throw a tantrum about it like some kind of stupid kid? Am I really this messed in the head that everyone on the team is—-is hiding from me like I’m some kind of—” he cuts himself off.

Delinquent.

Ryuji takes a deep breath, fully inhaling and slowly exhaling. He focuses on the dust motes again. In and out. Countdown from ten. He can do this. He can get a grip on himself. Thank God it was Ann that came up—if it had been anyone else, he doesn’t think he can put his pride aside as easily. (Unless it was Futaba. God, he loves her so much.)

For a while, it was silent except for his breathing; it stuttered occasionally, but eventually it evens out. Ann only watches from her perch.

When he feels stable enough, Ryuji drops to sit on the hardwood.

“Okay?” she asks. Ann never babies him when he gets like this—she’s good that way.

“Okay.” And he really is. Not completely, of course not. His nerves weren’t strung as tight, but he still feels a heavy weight right in his stomach.

She hops off the desk and goes to sit in front of him on the floor. Crossing her legs, Ann waits. They regard each other for a long minute.

“He’s the toughest guy I’ve ever met,” he says. It feels weird saying this out loud, instead of repeating the mantra in his head like a broken record. “If anyone can handle this, it’s Akira.”

She rolls her eyes. “Duh.”

“He’s going to be okay.”

“I know that.”

“Sooner than later, his dumb ass is going to be walking through the door downstairs.”

“You bet he is.”

“And I get to yell at him as much as I want.”

“Get in line.”

“I’m not going to lose him tonight.”

Ann reaches over—slowly, giving him plenty of room to shift away—and places a hand on his knee. “You’re not going to lose him tonight.”

Ryuji laughs, a little breathy but still genuine. He prods at her hand. “When’d you get so good with me, Takamaki?”

“I do the Lord’s work around here, free of charge.” She grins, before her tone drops again. “Can you do something for me, though?”

“Lay it on me.”

Ann pulls back and leans on a propped hand, her blue eyes piercing. “When Akira comes back, and he will—”

“And he will. No doubt about it.”

“Obviously. He’s the best person for this. But when Akira comes back, he’s…” Ann gnaws on the inside of her cheek. “He’s not going to be okay, Ryuji.”

Somewhere in his mind, he already knew what she was going to say. While the biggest of his worries is that he’d never see Akira walk through the doors of Leblanc again, there was a quieter fear. A very specific fear, one that Ryuji knows all too well. Because stories don’t just end at the climax of a single event—they keep going. It’s the fear of what happens once he does see Akira.

The aftermath.

The bell chimes downstairs.

His heart lurches, and he makes the briefest of eye contact with Ann before he’s gone.

He’s the toughest guy I’ve ever met.

It’s like his feet have a mind of their own.

If anyone can handle this, it’s Akira.

In an instant, he’s scrambling towards the stairs on all fours before pushing himself up.

Sooner than later, his dumbass is going to be walking through the door downstairs.

His hand finds its hold on the old wooden railing as he sprints his way down. More than once, he almost trips and bangs his head into the wall.

And I get to yell at him as much as I want.

Rounding the corner, he jumps on the landing, ignoring the sharp pain that shoots up his thigh. He ignores the stares from everyone else. Looking up his breath catches in his throat. Gray eyes meet his brown ones. He takes one step forward, and then another. And then he sprints the rest.

He’s going to be okay.

Ryuji stops himself right in front of him, an arms-length away. Akira’s face looked like it’s been through hell and back. Split lip, black eye, bruised cheekbone. An intense fury flares up his spine when he sees the grime and dirt up along his temple.

He hesitates.

As much as he wants to reach forward, close the gap, to make sure that this boy that he can’t afford to lose is real… he can’t do it.

Because he knows what would happen if he tries to cross a boundary that isn’t ready to be crossed—he might not be ready. Ryuji could hurt him by touching any injuries he doesn’t know about (God, how much more is he hiding in there? He’s this close to either throwing up or throwing a punch). But what he’s most scared about, what he’s terrified of doing, is touching Akira in the state of mind he’s in right now. For someone to grip him, grab him, even just brush past him right now, it might be too much. Judging by how beat up he looks just from his face? That does shit to people. That changes you.

Ryuji would know. So he keeps his distance.

Akira’s eyes turn dark, and for a second, Ryuji is terrified that he must’ve overstepped a boundary.

Then he throws his arms around Ryuji, the force knocking them both back by a couple of steps.

“Akira?” he asks, bewildered. Never in their friendship has he seen Akira act like this. It sends alarm bells ringing through his head. “What—”

“Don’t,” Akira cuts off, voice hoarse and quiet, so quiet that even this close, Ryuji is straining to hear him. The arms around him tighten. “Don’t be like that. Please. I can’t. Not right now, Ryuji.”

It hits him all at once. And in his sixteen years of living, Ryuji doesn’t think he’s ever been stupider.

Akira’s been trapped in an interrogation room with nothing but a bunch of make-believe police officers. He got the shit beat out of him, had to stage his own suicide.

And Ryuji just tried to push him away.

He lets his arms wrap around Akira tightly; not too tight, but enough to make sure he won’t slip away from him again. (Never again. Not if he can help it.)

“I’m glad you’re back,” he whispers. Tilting his head up, he stares at the soft lighting of Leblanc, forcing his lungs to breathe evenly—not for fear of losing his temper, but for fear of exposing the tears silently streaming down his face. “So fucking glad.”

Akira doesn’t answer. He only buries his face deeper into Ryuji’s shoulder.

Ann was right—Akira isn’t okay. Not for now, not for awhile. It’s up to Ryuji and everyone else in their group of friends to fix that. That’s fine. They’ll all take as long as they need. He isn’t okay right now, but he will be. They can work on that.

But one thing was clear.

I’m not going to lose him tonight.

====

Summer in Mementos is pretty gross.

Granted, it’s always nasty in here—there’s a perpetual air of moisture, like the inside of a whale, if Ryuji had ever been in one (he’s basing that off of an American movie Ann showed them last week; he didn’t even know it was possible for a fish to get lost in the ocean). There’s also the ongoing sound of trains passing by them on loop, and to him, trains are just inherently cramped and humid and always too sticky for his liking.

Of course, there’s the disgusting, weird amalgamated Shadows that litter every level of Mementos. At least in Palaces they sort of resemble something from the real world, but he guesses they didn’t even bother with these ones. The worst part of all this is that right now, it’s hot, but not hot enough for the Shadows to process a heat wave.

So essentially, they’re fighting with additional bucket loads of sweat, but with none of the usual reward that comes with it.

Well, not that they needed it.

“Fox.”

“As you wish.”

Yusuke’s boots skid to a halt as he points his katana at the fast-moving Shadow, the tip perfectly still. “Your assistance, Goemon.”

They’re on their weekly Mementos grind, the list Mishima keeps updating finally too long to ignore. (Akira hates it when things pile up. It’s a big reason why Ryuji hastily cleaned up every time he wanted to come over. Now though, he doesn’t even bother.)

The current All-Star team includes Yusuke, Makoto, Ryuji, and Akira, with the rest of them keeping a close eye in case they need a quick shift in strategy.

From his katana, black ice crawls in the ground beneath rusted train tracks, the air suddenly chilly despite the humidity that was there a moment ago. Frost shoots forward, encasing the legs of the Shadow only to shatter with a strong jerk forward. It roars, the ear-piercing sound causing the scattered debris around them to vibrate. Akira clicks his tongue.

Strong against ice. Easy fix. Ryuji mouths the words along with Akira when he says, “Panther, you’re up.”

“Finally!”

Ann darts in, high-fiving Yusuke as he rushes out. Ryuji can see Makoto pat Yusuke on the back, sympathy etched on her expression and Futaba mussing his hair. He always took it the hardest when he had to be switched out.

Akira’s gloved fingers brush the edge of his monochrome mask. “Come, Principality.”

As if a human version of justice has been summoned down to earth, the winged statue floats for a moment, eyes filled with scorn as she casts a simple, yet effective memory loss spell. The Shadow shakes its head aggressively. It works, but it won’t hold for long.

“Skull.”

“Don’t mind if I do!”

He grins and sprints right, squeezing into the Shadow’s blindside. It tries to twist around to take a swipe at him, but Ryuji is too fast—he slides right between its legs to confuse and disorient it. Once it seems like it completely lost sight of him, he raises his hand to grip the edge of his black mask. “Come on out, Captain!”

It’s a classic tactic; make the enemy lose focus, stun it, and stop it.

A pirate straight out of the Caribbean materializes from the embers of his mask—Captain Kidd in all of his glory regards the Shadow with a look of disdain before sparks fly from the hull of his ship, and an intense streak of lightning bursts forth, shocking its target like something from a regrettable movie about torture, knocking it down to the ground, a buzz perceptible even from here. He might have overdone it.

Ann whistles. “You didn’t even let me get a chance with it.”

“You can have the next million Shadows we bump into, I promise.” He calls Captain back into his mask, fragmented pieces forming together impossibly quick. “We good, Leader?”

Akira nods. “Just let me get the loot,” he smiles at Ryuji. “Awesome voltage on that last one, Skull.”

A grin stretches over his face before he can stop himself. He won’t deny it—getting a compliment from Joker was always something he filed away for later.

He’s too busy feeling pride surge through him that he can’t even bother to get ticked off when he hears Morgana scoff. “It doesn’t matter how good that attack was; he got in the way of Lady Panther’s finishing blow. That’s a crime in my eyes.”

“But doesn’t that just mean he saved her from doing anything?” Makoto raises an eyebrow. “Technically, he prevented any danger from befalling her, right?”

“Queen, as a gentleman, I have an obligation to tell you that that is a sexist notion.”

“You did not just say that.”

Something makes Ryuji pause. Immediately, his eyes flicker around them automatically. He tunes their chattering out, and finds himself tapping his foot, a slight jitter overcoming him. His nerves are trying to tell him something. Or maybe he’s imagining it? Is it just an aftershock from the intense lightning he cast out? No. It’s been too long since he’s had any problem with electric moves, and he’s never had problems from ones that he threw out himself.

Something was wrong, and he can’t put his finger on it.

He rattles his brain trying to figure out what it is. No one’s hurt, everyone’s safe and together. Well, mostly together, since Akira’s still approaching the Shadow—

A cold sweat drapes the back of his neck. Akira is still approaching the Shadow.

The Shadow hasn’t disintegrated yet.

“Akira—!”

The name slips past his lips, codenames forgotten. In slow motion, Ryuji sees Shadow’s body tense, its mouth frothing with what looks like liquid magma made from pits of hell—specializes in curse, and a strong one at that; Ryuji can feel the potency of its malignancy from where he’s standing. He watches as Akira stiffens, fingers twitching towards his mask, ready to retaliate, or at the very least, defend. And like a domino effect of bad luck, Ryuji feels bile rise to his throat.

Akira is good at what he does. Infuriatingly good. Took the whole Metaverse bullshit like a fish to water. But even he can’t switch Personas the same moment he summons them.

Principality would crumple like tissue paper against the Shadow. And Akira along with it.

You’re too late, a voice whispers in his head. You wouldn’t make it.

A heartbeat passes. And then Ryuji is flying.

It’s never too late, screams back something stronger, something unshakeable. Not ever. Especially not for him.

His boots hit the ground like the first strike of lightning amidst a storm—impossibly fast and unexpected. Lungs wheezing and legs throbbing, he crossed the distance in the span of a breath.

The Shadow throws the curse at Akira, red and black and filled to the brim with intensity, and Akira’s eyes can only widen, pupils dilated wildly to the point where there’s only black—a mirror of what’s about to hit him if Ryuji isn’t fast enough.

He doesn’t hesitate.

Ryuji shoves Akira, hard enough that he crashes onto the ground and he can hear the breath forcefully leave his lungs, and suddenly Ryuji can’t hear anything at all. His fingertips are fire and ice, his sense of surroundings have completely dissipated. Any energy in his body is being drained, like a dam cracked into millions of pieces—and all he’s left with is air. Vaguely, he can hear a choking noise, a broken sort of sound.

The blow is not just a violent one—it never is, with curse attacks. Instead of just feeling his skin bruised or blood running down his temple, he also feels himself get weaker, his mind growing heavier. An attack on the mind and body; a perfect cocktail of fucked up.

The last thing he sees before he loses consciousness is the glint from Akira’s knife slicing through the Shadow’s throat.

====

Tokyo is currently at a wicked thirty two degrees.

The sun radiates scorching temperatures down from the sky, the concrete eagerly absorbing every bit of its heat, making something akin to walking across hot coals. It’s hot enough that a mirage is visible to the naked eye. It’s hot enough that every ice cream store has a forty-minute line-up. It’s hot enough that no birds were flying, in fear that they may truly be fried by the sun above them.

Basically, it’s hot as hell.

“Ryuji-chan, pick up the pace!”

But Haru is more vicious than any conceivable temperature.

Looking like a survivor who was lost in the desert for several days, Ryuji lets out a half-garbled battle cry and sprints the last dozen meters. Haru clicks her stopwatch.

Sitting on a lovely lilac blanket, she tsks from underneath the shade. “Three seconds slower.”

“Ugh!” he collapses beside her on the cool grass. If she looks at him from a certain angle, she can see the steam positively radiating off of him. “I’m going to beat the living shit out of the sun.”

“You know I’d support you in anything you do, Ryuji-chan, but I don’t think you’d be fast enough to catch it,” Haru says. She hands him a cold water bottle. “Drink slowly.”

He rolls over so that he can squint up at her. “You’re mean.”

“I’m harsh,” she corrects, shaking the bottle in her hand. “There’s a difference.”

He takes it. “Have you done this before?”

“Helped someone train in running? No. But,” she rummages through her pastel pink tote bag, and proudly shows him a handful of books. He squints at them. “Since I’m so new to the group and everyone has such broad interests, I decided to try reading up on them! Did you know that drinking cold water after running results in less dehydration than drinking warm water?”

Ryuji stares at her. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For saying you’re mean. You’re not mean. You’re real nice, Haru.”

She smiles at him and pats his head, despite the overflowing heat and moisture settled on top. “You’re very sweet Ryuji-chan, but that’s not going to make me go easy on you.”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re the tough-love kind of coach.” Ryuji sits up, cracking open the seal. Chugging down the water, he makes eye contact with Haru before slowing down substantially.

He dumps the rest of it on his head, sighing and shivering in relief. “That’s the good shit.”

“Why not wait for the sun to go down a bit?” she suggests. “The heat is really scorching, and there’s still plenty of time to keep training later.”

“Nah,” he stretches his arms behind his head before he stands again. “I gotta keep going while I still can.”

Haru frowns. “Overexertion isn’t going to help anyone.”

“Don’t you worry your fluffy head! I may be stupid, but I know when to stop when I gotta.”

“I really think you should rest for a bit.”

“I will when I’m done, I promise.”

“You looked rough in that last lap—”

“Haru,” Ryuji is grinning, but his tone leaves no room for argument. “I’m going to keep training.”

They stare at each other for a few moments, before Haru’s shoulder sags slightly. “Alright.” He’s about to say something when she cuts him off. “But only if you tell me why you’re so insistent.”

Ryuji shrugs. “If that’s what it’ll take to prove it to you, then sure. It’s kinda stupid, though.”

“I’m sure it’s not.”

“Oh, wait till you hear it,” he laughs, a little shy. “So you know how Mona and Futaba are, like, the Metaverse experts? And Makoto is the big brain? And Yusuke does the whole calling card part?” Haru nods, and he continues. “Well, I’m not really… anything. Ann already took the role of moral support and there’s no way in hell I’m the ‘brain’ in anything. Jeez, last time I picked up a paintbrush was in kindergarten. So I figured, I’d be the fast one, you know? The one that can get to someone fast enough to help them out.” Ryuji’s grin turns into something softer; less edge and more fond. It does something to her heart. “And if it’d help ‘Kira down the line, then it’d be worth it, right?”

Haru stays silent.

“Anyway! That’s enough of that cheesy shit.” He moves back to the track, running shoes scuffing at the concrete. “Wish me luck, maybe I can actually catch up to the sun this time. Teach it a lesson.”

“Ryuji.“

Looking back, he gives her a curious look. “Yeah?”

Haru hesitates.

I never once thought you were stupid. You’ve given so much more to the team than you can imagine. You have no idea how many times you’ve helped Akira without even lifting a finger.

“I have a cooler full of water behind me, so… please try your best out there.”

Ryuji gives her an enthusiastic salute. “Yes ma'am!”

He runs off, the sun continuing to beat down him relentlessly.

====

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Ryuji knew they were all going to die someday. It’s inevitable. The circle of life, the winds of time, la vie en rose, etc.

He just didn’t expect it to happen at the age of 16, on the sinking cognitive ship of their next Prime Minister, wearing a wack-ass leather outfit surrounded by his panicking friends.

“We’re going to die!” Futaba wails, knees shaking uncontrollably to the point where she can hardly keep standing. “I don’t know how to swim!”

“It’ll be fine,” Akira spits through gritted teeth. He’s far tenser than anyone else, red gloves formed into fists and eyes constantly darting around to see what can save their lives. “We just need to focus.”

Makoto points to something on their right and shouts, “There! A lifeboat!”

Sprinting down the slowly escalating ramp, their eyes widen at the single lifeboat propped at the very top of the bow—which is slowly approaching a ninety degree angle. They all had one thought in their minds.

“We’re not going to make it in time,” Yusuke says, quietly.

Akira bangs his fist into a nearby column. “To hell with that. There’s no way I’m letting us die here.”

A heavy silence falls over them. The air is practically crackling with electricity and pure agitation, but there’s also a determination between all of that. Everyone’s overcome with a need to protect their friends and teammates, but they were at a loss of what to do. A quiet realization overcomes the group—there wasn’t going to be a miracle to save them.

Ryuji’s eyes land on Akira. He’s scanning the area, Third Eye activated but unable to pick up anything that isn’t the lifeboat. There’s no panic in his clear, gray eyes, but the terror in it is the most prevalent out of anyone present.

It hits Ryuji, all at once. The boy in front of him may be his age, and even younger than some members of their group, but he is undoubtedly the leader of the infamous Phantom Thieves. Every decision he made had led them here, in this moment, in their imminent death. And if he lets them all get taken, whether it’s through the ocean or the approaching explosions behind him, the truth of the matter is Akira feels that he would be responsible. That it’s his fault that a cognitive boat would take the lives of his friends.

Yeah. That’s not happening.

Ryuji clenches his eyes shut for a few seconds and slowly opens them. He begins to jump in place, hyping himself up.

“Skull…?” Haru asks, brows furrowing.

“Hang tight, guys,” he says, taking quick breaths. He can do this. “I’ll nab the boat.”

A chorus of gasps and heated objections rang through the air, and Akira steps forward, more shaken than Ryuji’s ever seen him. “No. Skull, please—”

Ryuji throws him a wobbly grin, more for Akira than himself. In one smooth motion, he jumps down and hits the ground running.

“No!”

Immediately, he feels his knees and thighs begin to protest, only intensifying the further he sprints up. For a minute, if Ryuji closes his eyes, he can imagine that he’s in a meet. A race. That the screams he hears behind him are his track mates, and not teammates, friends, best friends that would die if he failed to get to the boat fast enough.

He pushes himself even more.

It’s a miracle that he gets to the raft before his legs give out, and he feels a satisfying crank underneath his palms when he rotates the lever. As he throws a thumbs up at his friends, seeing them safe, healthy, alive, he feels relieved beyond words.

He makes eye contact with Akira, and he really should’ve expected the explosion that comes next.

====

His ceiling has seventy-nine plastic stars.

Ryuji stares up at it from his bed, arms crossed behind his head; they’d long since lost their cheap light. It was raining hard outside, enough to rattle against his window like pebbles calling for his attention. He ignores them.

It’s been years since he got those stars—dating all the way back in middle school. He got into a bad habit of sneaking out in the middle of the night to look at the sky from the roof of their apartment building. It scared the shit out of his ma when she finally caught him, scolded him to hell and back. By the end, they found a compromise: she’d buy him a crap ton from the hundred yen store, and they’d stick it up together. When they did, it kept falling down, so she went back and bought him a bottle of superglue. Now you can’t take them off, even if you tried to use a little scraper.

It bothered him, for a while. Young boys were cruel, and anyone who came to visit always poked fun of him for it. It wasn’t until he visited Akira’s room one day, saw how pleased he was that Yusuke bought them for him that he couldn’t help but revel at his own stars again, after all this time.

Ryuji twists his body sideways, ripping his eyes away from the plastic figures. Enough of that.

His eyes have long adjusted to the darkness that surrounds him, allowing a clear view of his room in the limited moonlight. Laundry splayed around his tatami mat from his sprints training today, gaming controllers scattered on the center table from when Akira came over a few days ago. That was a blast. He helped him beat a boss he’s been stuck on for weeks, and Akira beat it like it was nothing, it was the coolest shit ever—

Ryuji forces himself to flip over to glare at the wall. Sleep. That’s a better idea.

He takes a deep breath, forcing his breathing to go steady. There’s lots to do tomorrow—school is a drag, but they plan on meeting up at Leblanc afterwards. The thought allows his muscles to relax. Really, the atmosphere of Leblanc is just so pleasing to him. The warm lighting, the run-down booths, even the smell is a welcome presence. Well, that’s mostly because Akira drags it with him wherever he—

Slowly, his eyes open.

It always comes back to him, doesn’t it?

He rolls onto his back, in a position to stare at the stars again. The rain hammers on.

Ryuji’s a dumb kid.

It’s not a self jab, it wasn’t manifested by some sort of long-standing insecurity. It’s a fact. He’s never been good with a book, never done anything half-decent by picking up a pencil, his mind was never programmed to listen and retain information in long classes. It’s definitely not like he’s the brains of the Thieves, never a strategist of some kind. His ma encouraged him to take on a tutor in the past, and he’d rather bite a finger off than spend her money on wasted potential, so he found himself wandering the streets of Central Street as a way to pass time.

Ryuji’s a dumb kid, but even he knows he’s irrevocably, completely, stupidly in love with Kurusu Akira.

He sits up and ruffles his hair, frustrated. There are too many things wrong with that sentence, too many things that can go wrong because of that sentence. Of course, he finds the one thing that can mess up the unshakeable foundation that he and Akira built for each other. He must’ve really pissed off some God upstairs for him to have a hell-bent queer awakening with his best friend.

No, that’s wrong. It was the furthest thing from hell-bent—it was soft, it was gray, it was raining, and most importantly, it took its time.

They were halfway through Kamoshida’s Palace when Ryuji realized it; the sheer amount of power that hindsight gave him made him pause long enough to get clocked out by a Shadow.

Doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter. It can’t matter, because he would never, ever do anything to fuck up what he has. Not again.

Wait, no, that’s not true. Even before Kamoshida, he’s never had something like this. He’s never had someone like him. He’s never had someone who’s so entirely on the same wavelength as him, who’d have his back even when his was against a wall. Kurusu Akira is…ethereal. Out of this world. Cool as fuck. (Hot as fuck, too.) If you lined up the entirety of Tokyo and told him he could pick one. One person out of the whole lineup to be his friend, he’d have his answer in a heartbeat.

See, now that isn’t something that changed with hindsight—Ryuji’s known that he’s been in love with Akira since before they completed Kamoshida’s Palace. And when he figured it out, he didn’t feel shock. His eyes didn’t widen, his heart didn’t start thumping like crazy. It’s more like he just scratched his head in a huh kind of way. It felt like his life had been waiting for that day in April, like everything was at a standstill until he finally met Kurusu Akira. It made sense. Everything just makes sense when Akira’s involved.

Which just makes this all the more fucked up.

He knocks his head back against the wall, eyes stuck on the raindrops’ rapidly moving shadows on his bedroom floor. Karma. That’s probably what’s happening. The world still hasn’t forgiven him for losing his shit, so they decided to make him pine for the only person that he can’t afford to lose.

He can’t even stomach the idea of trying to get over it, to try and put distance between himself and Akira. He spent a lifetime waiting for a miracle, for someone who didn’t know existed. He’s not giving up a single second of time with him. That’s probably why the world relentlessly shits on him; he’s selfish enough to keep the feelings that he has. But he can’t bring himself to regret that decision. Not with the way his breath hitches in his throat whenever Akira walks into the room.

Ryuji’s in love with his best friend, and there’s absolutely nothing he can do about it. He’s accepted it. Just like how the sky is blue, or that he well and truly hates Calculus. It’s a factor of life.

The rain seemed to fall harder, droplets sounding like rigorous hail against the windowpane. He lets out a long yawn.

Ryuji’s in love with his best friend, and there’s absolutely nothing he can do about it.

That’s not the reason why he can’t sleep at night.

Akira is a quiet guy. He gets his point across with as few words as possible, as if each letter costs him fifty yen to say out loud. So he speaks through his expression; a quirk of his brow, a tilt of his head, a certain smile is enough to carry half of the conversation.

And, every once in a while, Akira gets a look.

It comes up at the weirdest times—when the two of them baton pass in the Metaverse, when Ryuji eats ramen too fast and gets sick, when he helps an old lady cross the street. Plenty of times it’s because Ryuji is doing something incredibly stupid (like when he said that the square root of sixteen is six, because if you just get rid of the one, then that makes sense, right?), or when they’re laughing so hard neither of them can breathe. But sometimes it comes up in quieter moments, too. The two of them talking quietly in the attic at Leblanc, or when Akira confesses that he’s relieved Ryuji’s always there for him. (As if there would ever be a time where he won’t be.)

The look is subtle enough to miss but easy to find if someone knows what they’re looking for. The usual attentiveness that resides in Akira’s eyes disappears, in its place a softer gaze; his pupils get dilated, and the edge of his eyes get all crinkled like Valentine’s tissue paper. A half-smile rests on his lips, never quite turning into a full-blown grin, but that’s okay. For some reason, it all reminds Ryuji of the moon. Of soft moonlight. Of streetlamps on empty roads.

Ryuji’s in love with his best friend, and there’s a small, tiny, infinitesimal chance that his best friend might love him back.

His eyelids slide shut, though he knows that it won’t be enough to let him rest.

Realistically, he’s probably wrong. Akira isn’t in love with him, and he’s only seeing what he wants to see. With every eligible person seeming to fall in love with him at some point in time, how would it even be possible that Akira would love him?

He rubs his eyes, desperate to get rid of the unending fatigue that’s plagued him for months on end. It doesn’t work.

Bad excuse. Akira does love him, just like he loves everyone he encounters and befriends and ends up risking his life for. Ryuji’s surprised Akira hasn’t passed out yet, given his bleeding heart for the entire population of Tokyo.

Lightning flashes and thunder rumbles as he rubs his eyes harder.

But what if he wasn’t wrong? What if the signals he’s seeing aren’t based on misunderstood yearning?

When his eyes start to burn, his fingers move up to his hair.

There’s no way in hell he’d ever risk losing his best friend. His partner. His Akira. It’s not something he can gamble. It’s not worth it.

He begins to tug, hands shaking, and he can barely feel the sting of pain from nearly pulling his hair out his scalp.

It’s not worth it. He decided that in the very beginning.

Ryuji buries his face into his palms.

But he is so, so exhausted of being tired.

Lightning flashes, and for a split-second, his room is bright.

Fuck it.

By the time thunder rumbles through his apartment, he’s already out the front door.

His sneakers squelch against the wet concrete, soaking his unsocked feet. He’s sprinting fast enough that the street lights around him blur, and he can feel quick breaths getting pulled out of him. It takes him a few seconds to realize that he forgot to wear a raincoat, but he doesn’t care.

Akira is his best friend. Akira accepted him, flaws and all. Akira loves him, one way or another. That’s what held him back. He can’t risk losing that.

Ryuji quickly checks both sides before running across the street, wiping the rain off his brow, and keeps going.

But that’s what should’ve pushed him into confessing sooner. Because if that’s all true, then that can only ever mean that Akira would accept this part of him too, right?

He jerks out of the way as he almost barrels over a fire hydrant, making him step into a deep puddle. It doesn’t slow him down.

Maybe he would’ve realized it sooner if he wasn’t too fucking tired to think straight.

His lungs begin to complain, his breaths turning to wheezes, but he ignores it in favor of going faster.

Too late for that now. All the matters now is to talk to—

He skids to a halt.

In front of him—eyes wide, hair drenched, no shoes—stands Kurusu Akira.

Ryuji’s mouth falls open, and for a minute, he almost laughs. Of course. He should’ve known. Just as he’s willing to sprint to Akira at an unholy hour in the night…

He smiles sheepishly at him, and Ryuji feels his chest constrict in the loveliest way possible.

…Akira would do the exact same thing for him.

The rain slows, and the thunder ceases for a moment. The world pauses long enough for both of them to speak in the same breath, the same heartbeat:

“I’m in love with you.”

#fic tag #akiryu #pegoryu #fanfic #writing #ryuji sakamoto #akira kurusu #persona 5 #persona 5 royal #mine #desperate as that sounds #and yeah man thats a jon bellion song #fic

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hansoulo · 4 years

Text

ain’t it a gentle sound (the rolling in the graves) - pt. 4

Pairing: Horacio Carrillo/f!Reader

Warnings: cursing, canon-typical violence and blood, grief, angst, death, y’all know the drill (there’s some descriptions of gore this time! if you watch narcos i don’t think you’ll be fazed by it but just a heads up. also talks about kidnapping and implied trauma. take care babes)

Word Count: 1.2k bc i needed the suspense soz

A/N: *throws this at you and runs away*

masterlist playlist

You were cold. That was all you could remember. Things returned slowly, falling in and out of your memory like specters. A hand over your mouth. Concrete. A flickering light bulb and a sicario - who couldn’t have been very smart because if he was he’d have realized that you didn’t know anything. Okay, maybe that was a stretch. You knew a little, courtesy of Horacio. Too much, probably. Enough to make yourself a target, anyways. Damn this. Damn you.

The sound of gunshots was enough to wake you from your daze and you vaguely register the taste of blood in your mouth. You force your eyes open, tensing your hands that lay tied behind you to get the feeling to return. The room was bare, faintly lit by the weak light of the early morning, and you felt your shoulders pressed up against plaster. Oh. You were on the floor.

This was much less professional than the last time you were kidnapped. Of course, then you were only bait. A pretty face with a ring on your left hand and the last name of a man they knew they wanted dead. Well, they got that soon enough.

You could be bait this time, too, for a different man. Apparently, you had a type.

---------

Shouting. Running. Slamming doors. Horacio’s yelling something in Spanish. Something about sicarios and traps and hostages and- You. His…. friend? Neighbor? Unpaid babysitter, who also knew how he took his coffee? (Scalding hot with tons of sugar, in the white mug with the chipped lip that was always in the top left cabinet.)

They used zip-ties on your wrists. You kinda want to laugh. Shoulders tight from being pulled behind you for so long, you shift your weight until pinpricks erupt across your numb legs. You should probably call out to him or something, to speed the process along, but your throat is burning something awful so you just let your head fall back and listen to the sound of tactical boots.

Three.

A round of gunfire, shot quick from the hip of a stranger you can’t imagine makes for very good company. You can hear bodies fall, but you know it’s not him. He wouldn’t go down that easy.

Two.

“Dónde está ella?”

“Mi coronel, aquí.” A muffled curse. The cock of a gun. Then, the door is pushed open with a loud creak of its rusted hinges.

One.

He’s on you like a man starved, all dark green fabric and hulking shoulders as he seems to just… appear, crouching down with a hand brushing your cheek. You don’t actually remember seeing him walk over, so maybe you really did hit your head on something. That would explain the ringing in your ears. And your busted lip. And the way that every time Horacio moved, there seemed to be two of him dragging out a few seconds behind.

Hands, strong and callused and more familiar than they should be, grip at your shoulders to coax your head up. The world comes into focus then- less blurry but way more frightening. The walls are streaked with red and your eyes catch a crimson path on the floor, snaking around to the doorway. All you see is a man’s shoe.

“Hey, hey look at me.”

You feel yourself- as though disembodied- shaking your head frantically as you duck your face to the floor. He reaches to cut away the ties around your hands, one knee braced against the floor and his mouth pursed in a line. The scent of gunpowder chokes you, presses down on your lungs like the deadweight of a corpse. Your face feels hot, burning like you’re running a high fever and you can’t string two words together without thinking about blood and bodies you can’t fix and how you can’t remember anything - which means you can’t remember what they’ve done to you. It’s too much. It’s all too much. It's too much. It’s too-

“Look at me.”

Fuck.

Horacio’s hand moves to cup your chin, the pad of his thumb tracing over the split skin of your bottom lip. His eyes seem to hold everything inside them, the embers of a flame you’re used to seeing sedated now flickering something dark. Something you should want to run from.

What’s another arrow in the quiver of your self-loathing? Not much, you suppose. Not much at all.

You look.

--------

He walks you back to the complex with his fingers still curled around your arm.

“Are you alright?”

Horacio’s voice is quiet, softer than you’ve ever heard it but god, what you would give to hear it again.

“Yeah, yeah I’m- I’m fine. Just… tired.”

He nods - unconvinced but letting you lie anyway - and steps back to open the door for you. Right. He has your spare key.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, and at that Horacio shakes his head. He’s good at hiding things, at hiding how he feels, but you know he’s holding his breath- trying to keep from frowning. For your sake. “I- I don’t know if I can do this, Horacio,” and you try to focus on the way his chest rises and falls to steady yourself but it’s not a good idea because it just makes you want to collapse, dead on your feet, into him. “Whatever this is.”

“Chiquita-”

“No- no. Don’t. You-,” you choke out the words, fighting tears as the exhaustion of the day finally seems to make itself known. “You can’t call me that. I- I'm not your chiquita,” and the last word comes out a bit sharper than you wanted it to, a bit too biting towards the man standing outside your apartment door with your keys still in his hands. Your eyes soften when you see the jagged metal gripped in his palm, hands tensing with scarred, white-stretched knuckles. Horacio’s jaw is tight again and you're reminded of how you teased him once. You’ll grind your teeth down clenching your face like that. Loosen up a bit.

The words leave your mouth, breathy and slightly shaking, before you realize what you say. “I’m not your anything.”

You want to slam the door in his face. You want him to slam the door in your face. You want so bad to be angry, to have someone to blame besides yourself and your own fucked up head, but you can’t. So you don’t. You just walk into your apartment and let the lock click quietly behind you, listening to footsteps as they retreat across the hall.

The rational part of your brain tells you to go to bed, to fall asleep after a good cry in the comfort of your bedroom surrounded by soft things and another wall separating you from him, but you hadn’t really made a habit of listening to reason lately. Why start now? The floor was as good a place as any.

Your back slid down against the door as you sat, drawing your knees to your chest with a shallow breath. There was a quote from somewhere. Shakespeare, maybe. Oh brawling love, oh loving hate, oh anything of nothing first created. This love feel I, that feel no love in this.

This love feel I, that feel no love in this. This love… this…

Romeo and Juliet. That’s what it was. The irony of it makes you laugh, the sound lacking humor as you shake your head.

They were doomed from the start, really. Still, there was something beautiful about it. Dying for someone else. Knowing they’d do the same.

You would die for him. That wasn’t what scared you.

What scared you… what scared you was knowing he would die for you, too. Just like before.

The thought makes your chest seize up, the lump in your throat growing heavier with every passing second. You couldn’t do that to him. You couldn’t live with yourself if you did. You barely lived with it now.

You fall asleep to the sound of crying. It wasn't yours.

Taglist: @chelsfic @itzagoodthing @lesqui @glowingpena @agirllovespasta @squidlywiddly87 @1zashreena1 @amarvelousmandalorian @paniclana @huliabitch @symbiont13 @jayoknrjk28 @ah-callie @watsonwise @raabiac @angelicpascal @sparrows-books @popculturepriestess @spookypym

lmk if you wanna be added/taken off. eventually i’ll get around to organizing like separate permanent/series/character ones but i’m lazy so. later.

#horacio carrillo #horacio carrillo x reader #horacio carrillo fanfiction #horacio carrillo x you #narcos #narcos tv show #narcos fanfiction #maurice compte #maurice compte fanfiction #aint it a gentle sound

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majorshiraharu · 4 years

Text

Echoes In My Mind; Chapter 1 - Icy Alliance - EchoxReader Fic

Echo x (Female) Reader fic

---------------------------------------------------- Content Rating: Mature/18+ Eventual NSFW Smut Warnings: Swearing Violence Anxiety Mention of violent canon events

-Trigger Warnings for future chapters: Torture Injuries Recovery Nightmares PTSD (rather warn you now before you become invested, after this warnings will only be labeled for individual chapters at the start of each)

-This fic will be added to my ao3 account and to the masterlist, if you want to be added to a taglist please let me know. Y/N = Your name Y/O/N = Your original name (since your character is going under an alias for most of the fic, before later on revealing her real name)

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

Intro: After order 66 you escape the Empires grips and go on back to your bounty hunting ways, your ship was damaged in a mission gone wrong and you’ve been stranded on a cold icy planet doing whatever jobs you can to fix your ship and finally get out of here. Along the way, you run into some guys with familiar faces, one who reminds you of the man you loved that died years ago at the Citadel

-You're collecting your reward for a bounty you just turned in - just then a male Gotarite comes up behind you grabbing your shoulder - you whip around pulling your blaster out of its holster as you use your elbow to push away the hand, now with your blaster pointed directly at his face - "Vegree?!" you shout, lowering your blaster. "I thought you were going to blast my head off, what the kriff were you thinking Y/N?" he spits out angrily both of his offset green beady eyes staring at you. "Man I'm sorry but that's what you get for grabbing me from behind like that, you're lucky I recognized your stench so quickly" you said as smugly as you could manage.

"Whaaat didd youu jusst saayy?!" Oh great you thought, you know shits about to go down when he starts stuttering like that. "I'm just teasing you old man, stop getting your teeth in a twist, you might bite your tongue off" you said trying to cool the tension rising.

"Wellll listten heere Y/N, iff yoouuu ssso mucch aas pooinnt thhatt tthiingg att mme aggainn wwe'rre gonnnaa hhavve mooree prrobblemmms!" he shouts, clearly not taking your jokes well. "More problems than we already have, haha, I find that hard to believe, well anyway what did you want?" hoping that changing the subject might make his mood better.

He lets out a big snort as he swallows his anger with you to finally move on to his point for being there, "I got a mission for ya, pays well, might get ya out of this dump."

"Well, what is it, who's asking, how much, who I gotta kill, or capture, anything to get out of here with my sanity." "Can't tell ya who from, it'll pay ya enough to fix your ship, but no killing, it's purely a spy mission" he says looking around for anyone listening.

"A spy mission, urgh, fine, who or what is my target and what do I need to get" you scoff out, you've always hated spy missions because they usually involved you getting found at some point, the last spy mission ended with you running to your ship under heavy fire, that mission was also the reason you were stuck on this godforsaken trash pile of a planet.

"Stop complaining, ya want in or not?!" he asks pulling out a datapad "Fine" you growl reaching out for the datapad. He waits for a moment before handing it to you, "Ya will find all ya need on that, just make sure to deliver what they want by the deadline, I ain't the middle man on this one so ya better not get snippy with da wrong people" he says in an almost worried way as he gets up and walks off into the crowd of people in the cantina.

What's that supposed to mean you think to yourself, he's never been so worried or secretive about a mission before. You turn on the datapad looking over the words and images on the screen, seems easy enough, you'll just have to steal another ship to get to the location, which was on a nearby planet, great, good luck finding a decent ship in this place. You would just take a ship and run, but being a bounty hunter that wouldn't help you get any jobs and would probably end with someone putting a bounty on your head, so best to just borrow one for a few hours so you can complete this mission and then fix your own ship.

You get up and walk outside, breaking the datapad in two and discarding it as it instructed, it's cold outside, your face feels like it's already starting to freeze, you head towards the landing pads and the shipyard - it's pretty empty today. Then you spot an all-black ship, it looks strange among the rest, almost like it could be an imperial transport shuttle, but you've never seen one like this, sadly imperial or not it would have to do, there was nothing else nearby and not to mention you wanted out of the cold so bad you'd gladly pick a fight with some imperials right now if it meant getting out of this cold. -You hack the control panel on the outside gaining you access to the inside of the ship, where you notice a skull painted on the side and a bunch of posters, eww this ship must belong to some lonely strange guys by the look of this messy place and the different things scattered about. You walk to the front of the ship working on hacking the panel so you can fly out of here, this is harder than you thought, normally you were pretty good at this stuff, but someone has heavily modified this ship, no wonder it didn't look familiar, whoever these people were they knew how to modify a ship that's for sure.

-Suddenly you hear people talking, and it's getting closer, oh kriff you think, with your luck, it's probably the people who own this ship, and by the sound of it there are 5 men, you could probably take them as long as you got the jump on them. -You put the cover over the control panel trying to be as quiet as possible as you hear the door to the ship open "kriff" you let slip out as you try to duck into a hiding spot behind part of the wall near the door. "So boys now that we've delivered this bounty and finally gotten some grub where do you all want to go?" asks one of the men, he has a distinctive accent, they all start talking, making it hard to tell what they're saying, especially over the sound of the one guy shouting about wanting to beat up some clankers. You try to take advantage of their babbling to sneak a peak for how you might get out of this predicament.

Well, there's no way out, they're all standing right by the door, and there's no way to sneak by them or - your thoughts are cut off by the sudden realization that the cover you had hastily placed back on slid off the console and crashed hard onto the floor, stopping their bickering.

"We really need to fix this thing, Tech, Echo, get over there and patch that back up will ya" the one with the accent says, causing you to shake with anxiety, knowing that in any second two of those guys would be walking right by you, should I attack them, or should I try to explain myself, you think quickly unsure of your choices as your anxiety swallows you up, hearing their footsteps coming closer, you close your eyes. -You try and dart out from your hiding spot to hopefully catch them off guard giving you enough time to get out and into the snowstorm outside, but instead, you just run right into the guy who was just around the corner crashing to the ground as you land right on top of him with a grunt. "What the heck" you hear the rest around you yell, as the one below you lets out a small grunt before looking up at you, right into your eyes, both of you just kinda stare at each other, unsure of what's going on.

"Echo" the one to the left of you shouts, grabbing you and pulling you back locking your arms behind you. Did he say Echo? you think, "Let me go" you shout cracking the back of your head into his helmet and kicking him back, freeing yourself, you try to run, but the one called Echo gets up quickly stepping in front of you and grabbing both your wrists as you try to push him away, "I said let go" you yell kicking his leg, "OW!!" you scream out realizing you just kicked your shin into a leg that was metal. "Are you okay?" he asks instantly letting go of your wrists, as you bend down to hold your aching shin, you look up to see a worried look on his face, "Why do you care?" you said coldly as you stood up, still in pain, making him frown. "I care because you just kick my solid metal leg." he says in a joking way, making you look away, feeling guilty for being such a jerk. "I'm sorry" you say while staring at the floor, "I'm just trying to finish this mission so I can fix my ship and get off this damn planet." "So you were going to steal our ship?" he says raising an eyebrow with a smirk crawling across his face. "Just to get to the mission location, I was gonna bring it back" you basically shout, now getting flustered by the way he's looking at you.

"Well, where are you headed maybe we can take you." "Wait now hold on there" one with the gray hair and bad attitude says "We aren't seriously going to let this little girl hitch a ride to some bounty on our ship, are we?" he spits out.

"HEY, I'm not a little girl, I'm a bounty hunter" you shout at him, causing him to roll his eyes and cross his arms. "I think we are" says the one with the accent grinning at the displeasure these words brought to the face of his comrade. "Sorry about that, Crosshair here doesn't trust easily, my name is Hunter, this is Wrecker, over there is Tech and well you've just met Echo" he says pointing out his comrades to you.

As he does this you notice they all look kinda similar, the one called Echo looks a lot like the clones you use to fight alongside. "You're clones?" you say hesitantly, "Yes" said Echo, "Well actually we've all been altered in some way to enhance specific skills" says Tech in a way that was almost too fast for you to understand. "It's good to meet you, umm..." "Y/N" you blurt out nervously, "Y/N" Hunter says finishing his sentence. You notice Echo smiling at you after you just blurted out your name, causing you to slightly blush, trying to look away from him in a way that wasn't obvious.

"Well Y/N, where are you headed?" asks Echo. “I'm headed to Luminues, the planet not too far from here, it's just a simple mission to get some information from a warehouse for someone."

"Hmm, for a mission that sounds so simple I'm surprised they'd pay enough to fix your ship, who's asking for this information?" Hunter asks looking concerned, "I know, they didn't give me much information on the job and I don't know who they are, but I promise it will just be a simple in and out and then I'll be out of your hair" you say trying to sound convincing. "LET'S GO THEN" shouts Wrecker, "All right" says Hunter sternly, "but we can't help you and if our ship gets damaged we'll need some of that bounty in return", "No problem, I'd be happy to share whatever I have left after I repair my ship" you say thankful that they are willing to even take you in the first place. They all take their spots, standing or sitting around as Tech starts the ship and sets it on a course to Luminues, you awkwardly stand near the wall staring out into space until you notice Echo walking up to you. "Umm...so you know clones?" he says unsure of how to phrase his question, "Yeah, I use to...." you cut yourself off, remembering that despite not being a Jedi you were still labeled as an enemy of the Empire and you didn't want to give yourself away, "umm, I um I...I worked on ships for the Republic" you said pretty unconvincingly, Echo looks at you tilting his head and raising a brow, he seems to understand that you can't say exactly who you are and accepts your lame answer. "Well then Y/N, I guess if you mostly worked on ships we probably never met, I was on the front lines a lot, fighting with the...” - suddenly he gets cut off by Crosshair who hits him in the shoulder, "She doesn't care Echo and remember we're trying to stay low key" he says jabbing him with his elbow, "Eh, sorry" Echo says with a sad look on his face as he turns away to walk towards Tech. "We'll be landing shortly" Tech says while pressing a bunch of buttons, "You might want to hold on to something" Crosshair teases, making you let out a snort as you walk closer to the front of the ship, at that moment the ship makes a hard turn before it jumps back to just barely make a landing on the small landing pad causing you to grab onto Echo to stay on your feet, he grabs your waist trying to steady you before looking up at you, both of you blush before letting go of each other. - Tech opens the door leading outside. "Okay, we got you here, Echo can give you our com channel so you can contact us when you need a pickup, otherwise we'll be here waiting." Hunter says walking toward the open door, Echo softly grabs your arm typing their com channel into your comlink "Thank you" you say quietly smiling at Echo, causing him to let go of your arm and look away, "Uh, no problem" he says quietly in return. -You walk out the door as they wish you good luck, let's get this over with you think to yourself finally setting off for your bounty.

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-Notes: Hope you all enjoyed this, I haven't written a fic like this in a while so it's nice to do this again, Chapter 2 will probably be out sometime next week, I will post updates. If you want to be added to a taglist just send me an ask or request so in a comment <3 uwu

#arc trooper echo #arc trooper echo x reader #echo x reader #echo x reader fic #echo x you #arc trooper echo fic #the clone wars #the clone wars fic #star wars fic #eventual smut #tcw fic #the clones #clones #the bad batch #the bad batch fic #star wars bounty hunter #majorshiraharu

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parjiljehavey · 4 years

Text

Lost Shadows Left Behind ii

Summary: Dante meddles, once again. Hopefully, the results are what Nero is after.

Read on AO3 for details notes at the end!

3rd of May, 1:43pm

One year, ten months and eighteen days after the events of Redgrave City

—————————————————————-

It had been some months since Vergil had divulged the name of the woman who had clearly ensnared his heart. Things had improved between Nero and Vergil; they were actually starting to bond, sometimes at Dante’s expense, but hey, Dante was never one to look a gift horse in the mouth. Dante’s brother had gone off on his own for a hunt, heading over to Siberia after they'd gotten word that locals were claiming vampires were running around several villages.

Vergil went because Dante didn't speak Russian; he only knew Spanish, Latin, and Italian with a smattering of German; mostly because Dante had liked how foul language sounded in German. Vergil, on the other hand, was a damn polyglot.

Nero had called off and on, busy with the mobile branch and the kids he and Kyrie were raising. Last time Dante had talked to Vergil, the elder twin had actually gotten a letter from Nero with a post script calling him an asshole for forcing Nero to write an actual letter like it was the 19th century because Vergil didn’t have a cellphone.

Vergil, of course, went out and bought the cheapest cell phone he could find after receiving it. Dante had been wheezing for air over Vergil’s grumbling over technology and uncooperative locals. The phone number scribbled on a piece that Dante handed to Nero was met with a nose wrinkled with disgust after the kid had racked the balls for a game of pool. Nothing like a game of pool after pizza, in Dante's opinion.

"Dante, a three year old can write better than this."

"Hey! That's not anyway to thank your amazing uncle for writing down your old man's new phone number. Especially when said uncle is letting you drink his beer." Dante was grinning despite the reprimand. Nero took a drink from one of said beers, raising an eyebrow. "Don't text him by the way. Stick with phone calls; he's still figuring out how to play Tetris on the piece of crap he got. Wait until he gets a smart phone for texting." He broke the rack. A stripe went in. "Solids are yours."

"You mean like the one you broke by falling into a river?" The kid was leaning on his cue, watching as Dante lined up another shot.

"I was thrown into that river, you little punk. I didn't go out that day looking for a swim. If I wanted to go swimming, I would have packed my broad shorts." Dante could have cleared the table if he had wanted to; but this was bonding time with his nephew, so he intentionally messed up his shot.

Nero gave him a look that conveyed that he knew what Dante was doing as the kid set down his beer next to Dante's own to circle the table for a good shot. After pocketing one, Nero did the same thing Dante had and missed on purpose. They fell into a good silence; the crack of the cues hitting the balls as they took turns making their shoots.

“How’s the search for momma doin’?”

Nero grunted, clearing not happy. Oh, he knew that look. It struck Dante for not the first time that this was Vergil’s son and they made similar facial expressions. Dante sighed. “Alright kid, spill it. Tell Uncle Dante what’s buggin’ ya.”

Nero snorted, as he always did when Dante called himself ‘Uncle Dante’ in a conversation. Dante waited, taking his time with his next shot to give the kid some time to get his thoughts into order.

“There’s only two women that it could be. One died in ‘94 and the other disappeared a month or so after I was born. The problem is that the woman who died was a nun; the Spardan nuns took their vows of chastity seriously and very rarely left the convent’s tower. When they did, it was documented for what reason and when, right down to the time. None of the nuns left the tower around the time Vergil would have been in Fortuna.”

Dante leaned against the table, twirling the cue stick in his hand. The kid was pacing, not even paying attention that it was his turn now. “So that leaves the one who disappeared, right? Where’s the problem there?”

“The problem is that she didn’t disappear in Fortuna. There was a group that helped those who became disillusioned with Sanctus get to the mainland; to start over. The majority of that group was... eliminated. A surviving member recalls taking a woman to the mainland shortly after I was born.” Nero trailed off, scowling as his grip tightened around the cue. Dante could hear the wood beginning to creak.

“Nero.”

“What?”

“Wanna put the stick down before ya break it?” Nero looked at the stick and set it down on the table after a moment. When his nephew remained silent, Dante sighed. This kid was too much like his old man sometimes. “I take it the trail went cold after she hit the mainland?”

Nero sighed, moving to sit down heavily on the new couch Vergil had gotten for the office. The old one had kicked the bucket finally while Dante was taking a nap, making Vergil actually laugh. Nero eventually nodded, head in his hands. “The trail went cold when she arrived in Genoa. There’s literally nothing left to go on.”

The earlier anger that the kid had was gone and now he was just deflated. Dante really didn't know what to do or say; so he did what he did best. He created a distraction by knocking the beers from their perch on the table. Nero snorted despite himself; kid probably knew what Dante was trying to do but if the kid was laughing, Dante'd take it. Dante looked at the mess on the floor, sighing. He shrugged, “Wanna get us some new ones while I clean this up?”

“Actually wipe it up, Dante. Putting the rug over it doesn't count.”

“What if I roll Vergil's chair through it? The wheels getting gummed up will annoy him.”

“Dante!”

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3rd of May, 3:32pm

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Dante stared up at the ceiling above his desk, processing everything from the past few hours. Nero had volunteered to go pick up pizza, and Dante was sure that it was both for the kid to clear his head and to talk to Kyrie without Dante teasing him too much for it. Dante really didn’t want to make a habit of meddling in affairs that weren’t his (First giving Vergil a kick in the ass about Nero's mom and now this?), but this was for family right?

Family helped family when said family needed help. Dante picked up the phone and dialed one of the numbers that he pretty much knew by heart now.

“Hey Morrison! I want to know if you can dig up some information on somebody for me. You can have whatever you want.”

Got a name?

“Yeah, Lucrecia.”

Lucrecia? Dante heard the information broker repeat it several times under his breath and then heard a rustle of paper.

“From what I understand, she arrived on the mainland sometime in the nineties from Fortuna, ended up in Genoa. Trail went cold on our end of things there.”

Lucrecia Capello?

“Dunno. Never got her last name, if she had one. Why?”

I’m thinking that the Lucrecia you’re looking for is the same one I’ve got in mind. Remember that coalition that formed about ten years ago?

“Yeah? What about it?” Dante remembered it; some hunters pulled together to train up new hunters in a manner that meant less of them dying on their first couple of hunts as greenhorns and a more accessible list of jobs. Readily available backup and access to an arsenal of weapons were big enough bonuses that had a lot of human hunters signing up.

They had extended an offer for him to join when the coalition had first formed, one that still stood because he never responded one way or the other. Lady had actually considered joining up, but Dante couldn’t remember if anything came of that or not.

She’s part of it. One of their top ranged hunters, as it turns out.

“Ranged as in what? Bazooka?” Explosives were a popular choice amongst human hunters.

No, son. Sniper on the rooftops. She can shoot doublets .

Dante let out a low whistle. Doublets, as it was called amongst sharpshooters, was two shots hitting two targets in quick succession. Very impressive. “Where is she right now?”

Got that right here, son. ‘Bout a hundred miles up north of you last I heard; been there for a while actually. I believe she’s training a new hunter; took on a couple C rank jobs off my hands. Want her number?

“You mind?”

Nah. It’s for your nephew ain’t it?

“There’s nothing that gets past you is there Morrison?”

Afraid not.

—————————————————————-

4th of May, 7:38am

—————————————————————-

One year, ten months and nineteen days after the events of Redgrave City

For the second time in just as many days, Dante had given him a phone number. His uncle had handed him a piece of paper with a grin after Nero had come back with the pizza, stole a couple slices and went off on a hunt. All the hunter had said was, “Think this might be the woman you’re looking for, champ.” and out the door he went for a job. Nero looked at the number again, scrawled in Dante’s horrendous handwriting.

It had taken Nero hitting a This number has been disconnected message twice before he realized that Dante’s nines were written like fours. Seriously, the five year old Nero and Kyrie were raising could write better than this. Nero grumbled, leg twitching as he listened to the phone finally dial.

Password?

“Are you Lucrecia Capello?” Jeez, it was hard to talk. It felt like he was swallowing his tongue.

Depends on who’s asking. Do you have the password? The voice was melodic, with a dry wit.

“No. Listen, this isn’t about a hunt.” There was a snort on the other line. “Don’t hang up! My name is Nero. I-” He cleared his throat, “There’s no easy way to say this. I think I’m your son.”

...When were you born?

“September 19th, 1992.” The sound of a sharp inhale.

And where were you born?

“I’m sorry?”

Where were you born?

“Fortuna.”

The other line was silent for several long moments, and Nero would’ve thought the call had been disconnected if he wasn’t able to pick up the sound of choppy breathing and someone in the background asking if something was wrong. Nero jumped when he heard a door slam shut. He thought he could hear a racing heartbeat; he didn’t know if it was from the other line or his own. It was just now hitting him that he was more than likely speaking to his mother.

“Hello?”

What would be a good time and place to meet, Nero?

—————————————————————-

tagging: @queenmuzz and @starrymindgurl

#devil may cry #devil may cry 5 #vergil x nero's mom #vergil #Vergil Sparda #even though vergil is only mentioned #dante #Dante Sparda #nero #nero sparda #nero's mom #nero's mother #uncle dante #dante's trying to be a good if meddling uncle #we met momma next time~

33 notes · View notes

be-ready-when-i-say-go · 4 years

Text

We’re Outsiders

This is a re-upload, or a throwback (originally written back in 2018). I hope you guys enjoy it too! I’ve edited it a little bit as well, since it’s original posting on the ye old @calumh-excess.

Calum’s used to being the on the fringe and used to be the one that fucks it all up. Cookie’s always used to being on the outside. Happens most of the time and completely out of her control. Together, they remind each other it’s okay to be on the outside--all you need sometimes is a shot.

Greaser!AU. Black OC.

CW: Deals with racism (some mentions of racially charged words), mentions of violence.

Enjoy my masterlist!

Support me on Ko-fi!

_____________________________________

Calum’s used to the dark. Most nights it’s just him out too late, past the time the street lights turn on. He likes it, driving down streets in the blinking of the streetlights as he glides over asphalt. The roads lined with trees and houses. The roads are lined with life that moves all around him, but are not bothered by him. That brings him peace. He’s so often the outsider. He’s the one that everyone stares at, with soft whispers. He knows what they’re saying is never good. He’s built that reputation for himself, with his slicked back hair, cuffed jeans and leather jacket. He’s done it to himself, being other and further ostracizing himself.

It’s not the life he chose for himself. His parents kicked him out and he had nowhere else to go. So Ashton, a guy from the south side that Calum had grown comfortable with, offered his house. It kept him in the same school for his last year and off the streets, so he took it. His friend group expanded, but now he was getting himself in more trouble than usual. Originally not a Prep and not a Greaser, Calum had managed to keep under the radar for the first year of high school. But now that he was living with Ashton, a prominent Greaser and hanging with the likes of Michael and Luke. Calum made a new name for himself.

Calum’s parents weren’t a fan of his interest in boxing. Calum took to amateur boxing as a way to finally feel like someone. His stature made it easy for him to lie about his age in the beginning of it at barely fifteen and no one cared enough to double check. Calum knew he’d never really go anywhere ultimately. He knew he’d wind up somewhere local, knew he’d end up in overalls in the car shop, changing tires and oil. After coming home too many times, coming home bloody, his parents had had enough.

Now with the Greasers, it was becoming evident Calum wasn’t just some quiet guy in the corner. His interest was saving his ass. When people wanted to pin them into corners, get into their faces, he always had a backup plan in his pocket. Fighting wasn’t his first resort, not initially. He’d try to talk a situation down. It doesn’t last long for anyone trying to pick a fight. Just about any and every fight ended with Calum standing, sometimes wavering just a little over some poor boy’s sweater vest and plaid shirt, covered in blood droplets, his fists put up in front of his face.

“Maybe sometimes, I just ought to run away from a fight,” Calum huffs to himself as his bike putters to a halt in front of the diner. “And I ought to gas this up more often too.”

He knew before he got the school to tutor that he needed to grab some gas. But he definitely thought he’d make it to the station closer to the city line. Tutoring felt like a saving grace. After work Calum spent a few hours at the school helping kids. It reminded him that he wasn’t all bad. It made him realize there was still humanity to him.

The kids he tutored normally never cared about school. They were too busy trying to survive, not wanting to be the next Black body to wash up into a river or hanging like strange fruit from a tree. But they needed school, even though Calum empathized with them, he knew they needed the basics. They needed to write, do basic addition, needed to read just a little bit. So that’s how he worked with them. He’d level with them, You can’t take that girl out on a date if you don’t know how to count how much cash you have and how much it’s gonna cost you. And you definitely can’t be cool daddy-o, if you not reading well.

The thing about kids is that they always asked; they knew he was trying to survive too in a world that seemed like it was always trying to kill them. If he came back with a black eye, or a busted lip, they asked him if his addition got him out of that fight. Calum would try not to encourage this kind of behavior, but he had to admit, the joke would be funny. Calum would reply nearly the same way, “Yeah, I added one fist plus two fists and put his candy ass flat. I’ll try subtraction next time.”

Right now though, Calum’s gotta focus on getting gas. He passes this diner all the time. He’s just never stopped here. It’s a silent understanding that this is a Blacks only establishment. He’s given a few kids rides after tutoring here. The parking lot is always full of Black people hanging around the doors and in cars, laughing as they part from their full meals. Just a couple minutes past here by vehicle is his own town, mostly white, some Blacks sprinkled into the mix. City’s split into thirds. There’s the northern side, the southern quarter and the Western side. The Black part of town neighbors right on the edge of this town. He knows it’s done strategically. The edges have become blended over time. But it’s not by a lot. The divisions aren’t invisible.

Because of winter’s grip even though it’s only closing in on evening, the darkness keeps most people in their own homes. Booths are empty. A couple tables hold people sitting. The hostess looks up from wiping down counters, smiling. She looks vaguely familiar, he thinks, as she leans against the dry part of the counter. “What can I do ya for?”

“Gas. And maybe a shake too,” Calum counters.

Her grin widens. “I can help with the shake.”

Calum goes onto to explain, “Bike’s empty. I reckon I should pay more attention.”

He watches the way her full flips twist up, her coily hair pinned back and a dainty little white flower headband tied around the middle. She raps her fingers against the counter. “Charlie boy!” she hollers turning to the kitchen.

“He in the back gettin’ ready leave,” comes a booming voice.

“He got his gas can still in his car?” There’s a shout in return and she turns back around, voice returning to her normal sweet tone. “Give me just a second.”

Calum nods, sliding onto the barstool. She slips from the counters, running into the kitchen. He notes the lack of a skirt. Her pants are tight around her thighs and hitting her just below the knees. Wait a second, he knows those leopard print pants anywhere. Her father was the one that had a crossed burned in their front yard a couple years back. It was the only time they seemed to be targeted, but rocks were thrown their windows too.

Calum sat next to her in English in tenth grade. The last year they had together before her family moved. He heard rumors that her family owned this place. But he wasn’t sure how true those were. She was always nice to him in school. “It ain’t no white boy!” she huffs, the doors sway close behind her.

A dark skinned man, bald too, stares Calum down, lips pressed together. After a silent moment, the man speaks. His voice deep and gruff. “He da one fix Ma car. Why you ain’t tell me it was him?” It’s a playful scoff from the man as he bumps her with elbow. “I’ll be back.”

Calum recognizes him. The man scared the shit out of Calum when he walked into the car shop. He looked mean, but it was just the years wearing down his brow line. He has to put on a mean face because it keeps everyone from bothering him, as he explained to Calum. “Thank you,” Calum says, sliding down and fishing out his wallet from his jacket pocket.

“Oh, keep dat. Keep it,” the man waves his hand, turning away from him.

“At least something?” Cal asks. “For the trouble?” He holds out a five dollar bill.

“If you think it I can’t spare a couple bucks,” the man starts.

The girl cuts him off. “Charlie just go get the damn gas. Ain’t no one trying to say anything or start anything. Just go.”

Calum continues to hold out the bill even as the man disappears into the back. She slides behind the counter and Calum pushes the bill towards her. “Make sure he gets that.”

“You do realize he’s gonna raise hell. He’s too proud.”

“Please.” Calum continues to hold her gaze and all the time he’s trying to pull her name to the top of his brain. Was it Deborah? She had a nickname that she went by. Calum feels his tongue curling, but everything to the comes to the tip of it feels wrong.

With a sigh, she nods and slips the bill into the pocket of her apron. “I’ll make sure he gets it. Charlie not mean, just hardheaded. As I’m sure you know, Calum.”

He lets a small laugh escape him. “Yeah, yeah I do. Wait, you remember my name?”

She winks at him. “Course I do. I remember everyone’s name. Still want that shake?” Truth be told, she didn’t always remember everyone’s name. But she remembered his, couldn’t forget it really.

“Surprise me,” he grins.

She smiles with a shake of her head. She doesn’t go far, around the wall that separates the kitchen from the back of the counter seating. Her conversation with the cook is short. Calum leans into the counter.

When she turns back around, she notices his the silver chain around his neck as he plays with it. He looks like his mind is far away. She takes in his appearance, the golden skin, the bruises probably days old due to the coloration fading. He really hadn’t changed all that much since the last time she saw him. Maybe he got a little bit more handsome. Maybe it was a change in the cut of his jaw or the chub to his cheeks had slimmed just a hair. But it was still very much Calum in front of her.

“Been in trouble?” she asks, gently rubbing her fingers over the bruises along the back of his knuckles. Her eyes linger on the one on the top of his cheek. Her cousin had told her that he seemed to be on the straight for now, but his healing body says something different.

Calum tries to recover from the shiver running down his spine. His voice is shaky as he speaks. “I’ve been trouble.”

“Cats scared of you know, huh?” Calum hears the teasing lilt to her tone, trying to keep the subject light. He shrugs at her question in response. “I’m not. I seen you fight. You ain’t so big and bad.”

It was once. She wasn’t even sure what it was over, just happened to be turning the corner to the building to walk home and behind the school a group had gathered, Calum at the center. He was breathing heavy, fists clenched. It was he was the calm eye to the hurricane of people hollering and shouting at the fighting match happening.

“Miss stealing your English notes,” he offers. That’s not what he wants to be known for, that’s not what he wants to be remembered by as the guy that could fight. “And those tiny hearts as periods,” he chuckles. The first time he saw it, he wasn’t sure if it was a heart or not. But as he skimmed over her notes more, the clear it became that those oddly large periods were really hearts in disguise.

Totally a sore subject, so she won’t be prodding that bull anymore. “Everyone here hates ‘em.”

Calum shakes his head, a grin splitting his lips. “They were kinda cute. Hope you ain’t do it for all the cats needing your notes?”

“That’s just the way I write,” she laughs. “But for you, maybe for you they were a little bigger than most.”

“Don’t do that to me, doll,” Calum laughs. “Don’t go getting my hopes up.”

“I ain’t trying to do that. By no means.” They laugh, gazes falling from each other after a moment. He didn’t know this about her. The side that liked to dish out the jabs. They didn’t ever really interact a whole lot in class, or after school when he’d return her notes. But he likes this. He likes their back and forth.

“Did you know you used to tutor my cousin?” Calum tilts his head to the side, trying to go through the catalog of his kids. He’s trying to place her face with those that he knows. But he’s coming up short. She continues on though. “You remember Elijah? Always bettin’ somebody?”

As the grin overtakes his face, Calum laughs. “Yes, yeah, I remember that kid. Always squeezin’ me for fifty cent!”

She laughs, nodding. “That’s Elijah. He’s kept his grades up. Not all A’s. But he’s doing good. He never stopped talking about all the bets y’all made. He could bash ears about you.”

“He was a good kid. Tell ‘im I said hi, will ya?”

“I’ll tell him.”

“Cookie!” a voice bellows. That’s it! That’s the nickname. At the back of his brain, he kept trying to pull it to the surface. But just couldn’t for the life of him. She spins around, grabbing the plate and glass in the window. It’s a slice of pie as far as Calum can tell and a shake. She grabs some silverware and then slides the plate and glass in front of Calum.

“No need for you to be waitin’ and be starvin’.”

“Tell me, Cookie,” he grins as the nickname slides off his tongue, “care to split this slice with me? I remember what my momma taught me about eating dessert before dinner.”

She clicks her tongue against her teeth. “Hmm,” she considers, fingers tapping at her chin. “You can get away with the nickname. This time,” she adds on, watching Calum’s brows shooting up on his face. “You’re not the only one that can dish out a knuckle sandwich.”

Calum taps the heels of his boots together, the soft thuds echoing in the quiet air of the dinner. “I’m shakin’ in my boots.”

“You better be.”

They talk about their lives, Calum working at the shop and her finishing up school though it feels like for sure she’s spending too much time at the diner. She does it mostly to help out since her parents are short staffed at the moment. Tiny pieces are cut between laughs and shy glances up from between lashes. Without even realizing the last fork clinks against the empty plate as Charlie walks back into the diner, through the front doors. “That your bike out front?”

“Yes, sir,” Calum answer, sliding off the stool.

“C’mon, and I’ll fill her up.”

“Thank you again for helpin’ me.”

“You good people. Don’t sweat it.” He doesn’t wait around before stepping back into the dark of the now thickly settled in night.

“How much do I owe you?” He turns to Cookie and nods towards the half finished shake. She waves a hand before pulling out his five from earlier.

“Let’s just say it’s on the house.” Calum goes to speak and she shakes her head. “He won’t take the money. I’ll use it to cover the bill and give him extra on his tip,” she whispers. “Believe me, I’ve got things all worked out over here.”

It’s a fair enough system and Calum hurriedly slips into his jacket before his boots click against the floor. Charlie doesn’t seem like the kind of man to keep waiting. And Calum definitely doesn’t want to find out the hard way. But as his feet carry him closer and closer to the door, his gut keeps jumping. He doesn’t want to let this be the last time he sees Cookie.

And maybe it’s just the late night and the first time a girl looked at him that didn’t throw herself at him. Sure, Cookie flirted and he flirted back. But girls had two modes with him, they either ran away from him or they were just looking for a good time. Calum normally didn’t have anything against that. But that’s not what he wanted. He wanted someone he could laugh with, someone that saw behind the bruises.

With one hand still holding the door open, Calum turns just a bit. “Cookie,” he starts, turning around. He might be pushing it just a little with the nickname. But the way she smiles lets him know that maybe she likes it too. “Mind if I see you again?”

“My English notes are always available. You know where to find me.” It ends with a nod. The bright smile that makes Calum’s stomach knot up again.

“I’ll see ya ‘round, doll.”

__________________________________________

The dinner rush seems like it’s never going to end. The second she thinks she can keep up with her tables, someone’s asking for a refill on the drink, or needing extra condiments, or more napkins. But finally, she can see through the windows again. The parking lot doesn’t look like a party of it’s own. Cookie exhales, plopping down into the barstool. If her hair weren’t already pinned back, it would’ve fallen into her face. It’s only Friday. Tomorrow will be much worse. However, right now, she can take a deep breathe. She can take a moment for herself. Cookie presses her forehead into the cool counter.

The door chimes again. God, not someone else. Not another patron. However, no matter how much she wants to disappear into the ethos, she swallows the complaints back down and pops up off the stool. “Booth or table?” she asks, automatically reaching for some menus.

“Tellin’ me the counter’s not free?” Calum grins.

She places a menu down, gesturing with a sweeping motion to the spot she once sat. “All for you.”

Calum shrugs out of his coat, draping it over the seat next to him. He chews on his bottom lip. She’s grinning up at him and he knows it’s not the same grin everyone gets. Her eyes twinkle too though he can tell she’s tired. “Full of gas today?”

It’s been a week since he had to drop in after running out. He didn’t expect her to drop it. She probably would never drop it either. “All the to the tip top,” he exhales with a tuft of laughter. She’s leaning into the end of the counter, the little part that starts to turn into the two doors that tell customers to keep out.

“Charlie Boy says thanks for the tip.” A table across from her flags her down and they lock gazes for a second. The exchange of acknowledgement nods. “I’ll be right back to get your drink.”

Calum nods, watching her rush away. It’s a skirt today but the blue matches the decor inside and he concludes it’s the uniform. Why she wasn’t wearing on that fated Wednesday he’s not sure. But he liked that. Like that she didn’t always try to fit in.

Calum looks over the menu and everything looks to die for. But he’s not really ordering anything, didn’t even intend to. He only came by to see her. Money was getting tighter thanks to repairs needed for the house, but it’s nothing that he and Ashton can’t scrap the money together for. Though, Calum was sure Ashton was going to flip a lid if he had to pulled more money for his car funds.

Cookie darts around the counter, grabbing the coffee pot and smiles when she notices Calum watching her. “Didn’t forget. Promise I’m coming back.”

“No rush. You workin’.”

When she finally gets settled again, Calum leans his elbows onto the table and rests his chin on the flat of his knuckles. “What are you doing tomorrow night?”

“Besides working my ass off here?”

“Cookie what I tell you about all that swearin’!” The voice is distinct but he can’t place who it belongs too. The whole diner is still pretty packed and with all the waitress in the same uniform, it’s almost like a blur happening around him.

She rolls her eyes, reaches into the pocket of her apron and drops a nickel into the tip jar. “I swore yesterday and never put my two pennies in. I’m just covering myself for the next one,” she explains with a small laugh.

“Besides workin’, what are your plans?”

She shrugs. “Don’t get off until 9. I should probably get some homework done.”

“Would you be interested in catchin’ a movie?”

“Askin’ for passion pit?” At first Calum thinks she’s serious. He didn’t think his reputation was going down like that. He was a gentleman. A fighter of course, but always a gentleman. He goes to defend himself and how he’d treat her like a lady until he sees the grin on her face.

“Oh, just keep yankin’ my leg, huh? So you dig?”

She nods. “My only question, where?”

“I’m not sure of places around here, besides I have a bike. Not really drive in material. But there’s one not too far just across the west line.”

He can feel the hesitation on her. He prays she doesn’t say no. He figured that one would be close enough to her old neighborhood, it won’t put her too far into dangerous spot. The North side of town is no place for her. Nor is any spot for him to be casually. He knows that. He’s not blind to the looks Black people get in groceries stores or walking down streets. He’s not blind to the news or the lack of news surrounding disappearances.

“How far across the line?”

“Minute. Two max. Close to your old neighborhood.”

She bites onto her lip, looking up to the ceiling. “I haven’t been on that side in a while. I know those people are cool with you. South siders are thick as thieves. I’m just, nervous. But I’ll go. If it gets too bad, we gotta go. No one’s gonna burn a cross, but, I just, I’m worried.”

Calum nods. “Of course. If ya want, we could go to the one over here.”

“You’ll get nasty looks too.”

“Don’t mean you gotta sacrifice yourself.”

Her laughter is sad and heavy as it falls from her throat. She opens her mouth to say something. She wants to joke that sometimes her entire existence feels like a sacrifice, that somehow her mere existence felt inherently politicized and a form of rebellion. She doesn’t let it cross her lips though. Instead, she swallows it back down and shakes her head. “Now, what’s cookin’ good lookin’? What can I do ya for?”

Calum reaches out for her hand. The touch is light, makes her insides tingle too, if she’s honest. “You already did it. See you tomorrow, Cookie.”

“I apologize if my father’s a bummer tomorrow. Keeps a tight ship. I’ll still be able to go. But that ain’t to say you won’t have to fight for it.”

Calum nods before taking his hands back and sliding into the jacket. He’ll keep that in mind. “I’ll break out my loafers,” he grins. “Get ‘em spit shined too.”

Her laughter follows Calum out the door and through his entire ride back to the house. When Calum walks in, Ashton immediately note the grin on his friend’s lip. “What you got up to?”

Calum shakes his head, pulling his jacket off. “Nothing.”

“Nothing surely looks like a hell of a lot like something. You cheesin’ too damn hard. That girl?”

“She’s nice.”

“Just be careful.” Ashton doesn’t miss the questioning glance of his friend. He holds his hands up. “Look, don’t shoot. I’m just saying, this town ain’t too fond of people like her. She moved for a reason.”

“You fond of people like her? They folks just like us.”

“I’m not saying that, and you know it.” Ashton retorts, his gaze firm and mouth twisted down into a scowl. Ashton knows he’s not like the rest of the town. But he doesn’t want to see his friend washed up and bloated from the river. “But you gotta be careful with her. The world’s inherently against her. And you could get caught in the middle.”

Calum understands the sentiment, but sees no issues. He’s not naive to think the world’s just gonna open their arms. But people aren’t that bad. He doesn’t believe that, even if it felt like he was constantly fighting. He had to believe that there are good people out there. If not, the rest of his life would be hard and full of more scraps. “I can handle if I get caught in the middle.”

“But do you want to handle getting caught in the middle?”

“C’mon, man, do you hear yourself? I like her. She’s nice. She don’t look at my bruises and think she has to run away from me.”

“That’s awesome. You know I’m rootin’ for y’all. But you are in just as much danger as she is. And you already got plenty of people who don’t like you. It’s all they need. They’d only need a reason.”

Calum knows Ashton is right. He knows that anyone that didn’t already like him would really like him now. However, that doesn’t mean she doesn’t deserve a chance. That doesn’t mean Calum can just run away.

“I like her.” It’s final as it falls from his lips.

He brushes shoulders with Ashton as he heads to his room. It’s not meant to be mean, Ashton just can’t bare the thought of something happening. The world can’t be all bad. But it can and very much did get pretty bad. An hour or two later, as Calum just starts to feel the grip of sleep, there’s a knock on his door. He snaps awake and walks to the door.

Ashton’s holding out a cookie, from the pack they bought last week from groceries. “It’s the last one. I didn’t want to take it without asking.”

Calum wipes at his face one last time, leaning into the molding of the door. His stomach growls and he realizes he hasn’t eaten anything yet. He takes hold of the chocolate chip cookie and chuckles. “Her nickname is Cookie, ya know?” He says taking a bite of the treat.

“Well, Daddy-O, you’ll be callin’ her baby real soon.”

Calum throws a weak, half-hearted punch to Ashton’s gut. “Fuck off,” he laughs.

Ashton curls up, blocking most of the blow. He laughs too. The tension from earlier disappears. Calum understands Ashton’s concerns, but he can handle himself. One date isn’t going to end the world. He knows it won’t make the world a less spiteful place, but he can’t let that predict every move he makes. He hasn’t let it yet and he can’t start now.

__________________________________

The diner’s parking lot is shockingly full when Calum walks his bike to a stop. He kicks down stand and straddles the bike before getting his leg around. He’s mindful not put the collar of his leather jacket back down. He didn’t put too much gel in his hair either. Good impressions. That’s what he’s gotta make right now. Though, one look at him immediately gives away his affiliation, but he tries to tone it back down. Calum even threw on one of his scarcely worn button up shirts. When he walks inside, he notices Cookie untying her apron. There’s a man, a little taller, with a neat short cropped cut, and a face just like hers, though he’s a tad lighter in complexion.

She smiles at Calum and he returns the gesture, exhaling as he walks over. He’s not used to having to meet the parents up front. But this isn’t his house, these aren’t his rules. He’ll still play the game though. Calum extends his hand. “How are you, sir?”

Her father shakes his hand, grip firm and eyes sharp. “I’m good, son. How are you?”

“I’m well.”

The quick once up and down is almost too fast to catch, but Calum knows the tactic well. “I don’t judge, son. I don’t. The world’s full of it already. Just treat her right, tonight.”

“Of course, sir. Is there any time I should have her back by?”

“As long as no one’s coming through my door at ungodly hours, I’m not too concerned.”

Cookie sighs, head falling on her neck as the sigh shrinks her shoulder. “He means midnight at the latest. I’ll save ya the time of walking through that maze of a riddle.”

With that, she leads him out of the diner. Calum can feel the eyes on him. Some whistle as they leave. Nothing menacing, all good teasing love. He laughs as Cookie groans in their departure.

Calum doesn’t miss the way his own body is warming though, the jitters almost making his teeth chatter. Her touch is so sure, but gentle against his hand. Cookie pauses at his bike and releases his hand, running her fingers gently over the handlebars.

“So, a couple friends of mine wanna tag along, is that okay? I can shake ‘em if not,” Calum warns.

She nods. “That’s fine.” There’s a moment where she’s gazing up at the skies and Calum’s watching her. “Honestly, I’m just glad to get away from the dinner even if it’s only for a couple hours. I graduate in June but I know where I’m going to wind up. I just need a way not to get stuck.”

Calum pulls out the helmet. “Well, let me unstick you.”

She huffs. “My hair is not going to fit into this.”

“You better make it fit, baby. Because I’m not leaving until it’s on your head.”

She cocks one of her hips out, the black blouse tied at her waist, paired with black pants too. Her red Keds tied perfectly around her feet. “Fine. But someone better have a mirror for me to fix this afterwards.”

“I’ve gotcha, doll.”

She wants to curse the way her heart flutters at the nickname ‘doll’ because there’s no good reason for her to almost melt at the way it curls off Calum’s tongue. But she does. Especially with the tiny shy smile he always pairs it with. It gets her every time and if she could curse him so it didn’t, she would.

He slides onto the bike first and she slips on behind him, arms wrapping around his waist. Her hold is strong, even a little tense when he first takes off. But a few seconds later, after being on the road, she loosens her grip. The wind is great across her face. She’s only been a bike once before. She’s not necessarily the angel most people think her out to be and she enjoys the secondary persona. It gives her a break from her reality, that she will always be bashed because of her skin color. She will always be at a disadvantage, it feels. But it doesn’t means she can’t have her fun along the way.

As the stop at a light, she watches with blurred vision as the red light burns into her retina. Soon it turns orange, and she’s staring out of her bedroom window watching white clothed bodies lighting fire to a cross. All she can think about is how she covers her younger sister’s and brother’s eyes, tries to keep them preoccupied. But they still asked her why them. What did they do wrong? And the answer unfortunate truth is nothing but exists. She doesn’t tell them that, she instead tells them that some people are just mean and don’t understand the harm in their beliefs. She doesn’t have the heart to shatter their worlds. She doesn’t have the heart to use words like racist, and evil. They’re too young still. But they know for sure. They know about it, they just don’t have the words.

“Hey,” Calum says, gently, hands wrapping around hers around his waist.

She blinks and realizes they’re parked. “Sorry, just thinking.” Her arms slip from around him and she pulls the helmet off gently. The bright bulbs on the front of the building let her know it’s the theater. The spaces are a little empty, but there are some cars. Most people have probably opted for the drive in since the weather is starting to finally break. She pushes off the seat. He watches her, quickly wiping at her face. Why the tears now? The worst time possible.

“Hey, whoa, what’s wrong?”

“Nothin’. I’m okay.”

“It don’t look like nothin’.”

“I-I’m okay.”

“We can skip the flick,” he offers, gingerly reaching out and resting a hand on her shoulder. “It’s no big deal.”

“Your friends would surely be disappointed.”

“They won’t be.”

“I just. I wish I could shake them. I can’t get that image out of my head sometimes. All of those men in my front yard. My sister and brother being scared. It’s not easy.”

He’s at a lost for words. He doesn’t know what’s that like and he probably will never. It’s not to say that he hasn’t gotten his fair share, nor Ashton. Ashton caught a lot of heat taking Cal in, but when everyone you know can keep up in a fight, people tend not to say much. But her family was prominent, and typically non-violent. “I know there’s probably not a lot I can say or do right now,” Calum starts, gently taking her chin between his fingers and tiling her head back. “But whatever you need, let me help.”

He swims in her vision for a moment and Cookie wishes she could just get over it. She wishes she could just take a sponge and wash it from memory. But it’s right there, right behind her eyelids some nights. Shutting her eyes for a moment, she lets the few tears falls, but she nods gently. “Thanks.”

“Of course,” he breathes, “of course.” Calum pulls her in for just a moment, letting her compose herself. Cookie wishes she hadn’t, the smell of him now and the hint of nicotine is pressing into the hairs of her nose. She never wants to breathe out.

It takes a moment longer before she nods into his chest and they head inside. Ashton said he’d cover the tickets, if Calum covered a bit more on the groceries. So it works out. Inside, fingers threaded through each others, Calum spots, Ashton, Luke and Michael, leaning against the wall. A circle of Preps are eyeing them but their attention is immediately shifted when she and Calum walk in. Calum holds a little tighter to her hand. He prays they don’t start anything.

As they walks closer to his friends, Calum notices more people are watching them. Not just Preps, but everyone in the room. “Thought we scared you and your Daddy out of this town!” someone shouts.

Her grip tightens in response, but she doesn’t drop her gaze from the three boys in front of her, Calum’s friends. This is what she’s used to, at any march, at any speaking event. This is normal for her. It doesn’t hurt any less. It doesn’t stop making her heart jolt at every insult, but she can hide the flinches, she can hold back her tongue. For a moment.

“You know you don’t belong here!”

She’s waiting for one of them to use the word. She just need the lips to curl into the start of n sound and she can pounce. She’d rather not start a scene here, on the wrong side of town. But god, does she only need one reason, she only needs one of them to set her off. “Either cut the gas, or you’re gonna have a problem,” Calum warns, a single ring adorned digit signaling out the offender.

“Oh, she can’t talk, huh?” Joseph is always one to try and start any fire he can. It was like he almost got off on the humiliation.

“Drop dead,” Cookie hisses. “No one wants anything to do with you. Won’t no one thinking about you for two seconds, so now you gotta make yourself known.”

“Fream speaks!”

God, she wanted not to give in. She wanted to walk away. “I do. But you got a lot to say. So keep running your mouth, half way to a bruisin’ as it is.”

Calum looks back to her. He didn’t expect that from her, but something hits his chest. It’s a strange excitement and the adrenaline before a fight. Part of it definitely disbelief. Not Cookie, he hasn’t pegged her as the type. But maybe he had been more wrong about her than he thought. Maybe all the teasing and flirty wasn’t just her playing games. While Calum would rather not have a fight, he sure as hell wouldn’t leave her to a fight alone. “The lady spoke,” he grins, turning back to Joseph. “Shut it or we dance.”

Joseph, who once was surrounded by his posse, notices that only on a couple of his original boys still stand. No one really wants to get into a fight with Calum. And everyone can see the other three circling in close too. The odds are heavily on their favor and Joseph would definitely be the laugh of the town. “You’re not worth it anyway,” Joseph finally mutters. Though Calum can see the way he’s holding something in the back of his mouth.

Calum pushes her back behind him, just in time too before the spit lands on the floor at her feet. His hands are in fists before he realizes and he surges forward. Grabbing the collar of Joseph’s shirt, Calum lifts him from the ground. He can’t even get the word out before Joseph releases an ‘Oof’ doubling from a blow. Calum looks to his left to see her fist at her side. “Try me again,” she hisses. “Put him down and let him try me again. Just because my dad’s nonviolent, don’t mean I am all the time.”

Calum drops the boy from his grasp. “Where the hell did that come from?”

Ashton, Luke, and Michael who have been keeping to the back, watching, waiting for anyone to step in, finally move in towards them. Luke takes hold of Calum’s bicep. “Let’s go. We can’t afford any heat right now.” Luke’s taking in Cookie and the crowd. It can go south real fast for them.

Calum nods and reaches out, running his fingers from the top of her vein along her wrist to her fingers. Cookie’s hand unfolds and he intertwines their fingers. She takes a step back and while Joseph is still recovering, she spits on his shoes. “Need better aim next time!”

The five of them shuffle out of the theater, quickly, knowing any attendant that happened to see the heated argument could be dialing for the cops. Outside, Calum pushes her closer to Michael. Most people don’t suspect him. He’s good in a fight, but not overtly identifiable. “Ride with Michael.” Folks definitely saw Calum and Cookie walk in together. She can’t be on his bike, not with him. If he gets caught and pushed around by the cops, it’s fine. But if she’s caught with him, that’s bad news.

“Sorry for ruining our date,” she calls out to him.

Calum slips on the helmet, grinning. “You didn’t ruin it, Cookie. You made it a hell of a night. Michael, goose it. Got it? Burn fucking rubber.”

Michael nods with a grin. “You know how to pick ‘em, Cal.”

Cookie slides into the passenger seat of Michael’s car. And true to Calum’s instruction, Michael blares down the backroads. He laughs about halfway through the journey. “Got a solid jab,” he offers.

“Thanks. Dad taught me.”

“Cal boxes. You know that?”

“Heard something like it.”

“Yeah,” he hiccups as they bounce a deep hole in the road. “Maybe he knew deep down you could fight too.”

Soon they pull into the driveway of a decently upkeep house. The outside doesn’t have a lot done to it and she knows that the inside might be a little sparse too. But everyone does what they need to in order to survive. One car is already there. But not too soon after they climb out of the car, she can hear the rumble of Calum’s bike. She pauses near the front steps, one hand on the railing and watches him. The tires kick up dust and rocks as he swerves into the driveway. He continues on around the house, slowly creeping by. Soon the deep rumble ceases and instead she can hear the crunch of feet against the gravel and dirt.

Calum pulls the helmet up as he rounds the house. “No heat, as far as I could tell.” Everyone exhales. He walks up to her, grin on his cheeks, curls perfectly disheveled from the quick tug up from his helmet. “Jets and a mean jab, got it all don’t you?”

“I shouldn’t have. I just hate his guts. I’m sorry.”

With a shake of his head, Calum takes her hand. “You’re fine. He deserved it anyway.” Her hand trembles in his. “C’mon,” he urges, taking her into the house.

The decor isn’t as sparse as she thought it would be, the couch has a couple blankets draped over the back of it with end pillows. The cherry wood dining room table has four chairs that match and a small bowl in the center some fruit sits in it. There’s a big shelf with records on it, some books.

The walls a little bare minus some old photos. “It’s not a lot. But we get by,” Calum whispers.

She shakes her head. “Reminds me of the old house. Even the new one we have isn’t too packed. Half the time, money’s going to the diner. The other half, the time’s going there too. Just never seems worth trying to unearth everything.”

Calum soothes the skin of her hand with his hand. He never considered that, that her life on the outside looked one way. But on the inside it’s way different. It makes sense why she has so many hours at the diner. “What can I do ya for?” he grins.

She laughs. “That’s my line. You can’t go stealing that.”

“Too bad, doll. Looks like I just did. So what can I do ya for?”

“Honestly, at this point a smoke would be nice. But water will do.”

Almost way too sheepishly, Calum reached into his jacket pocket and dangles the pack between his fingers. “I try not to smoke often. It’s not a habit I’m proud of, but if you want one,” he trails off with a shrug.

It’s tempting. It’s very tempting. Her statement was mostly a joke. But she keeps eying it. So, Calum places the helmet on the couch and hands her the packet. He slips out of his jacket, finding the lighter. She knows she shouldn’t give in. She hasn’t had one in a few weeks. Mostly because her dad would kill her. “I’ll go get us some drinks. Then we can step outside.”

“So we’ve met,” Michael starts, cutting through the awkward silence as Calum shuffles into the kitchen. “I’m Michael.” He points to the blonde to his right. “That’s Luke. Watch out for his limbs.” He then motions to a brunette. “That’s Ashton. Calum and him live together here. I live a few houses down and Luke lives like a street over.”

She smiles at them, still playing at the carton top. “Sorry about missing the movie again.”

“You were way more entertainin’,” Luke laughs. “Besides, we hadn’t gotten tickets just yet, so win-win.”

Ashton’s stare freezes her. It’s somewhere teetering on the edge of the disappointment. “Scold me,” she starts. “You won’t be any worse than my father.”

“I don’t know whether to be impressed or concerned,” Ashton answers truthfully. He’s impressed because he’s only never heard about her, seen her through others eyes. They all call her quiet, reserved, put together. He’s never really laid his own eyes on her. But now, she didn’t really go off the deep end until provoked. He can give her that. She didn’t throw the first punch. Though she made damn sure that she threw the last one though.

Ashton’s concerned because what does this mean for the rest of them. They already have enough of a target on their back. He doesn’t want to make her out to be a villain, but his world’s not easy on her and it won’t be easy on them if they associate with her. “This isn’t against you, it’s just, we’re already so…”

“Alienated. Greasers are low down, dirty, get into fights all the time. You guys are the scary people everyone should run from. And I’m the shit stain on this here great country. We’re both outsiders. I’m just further out of the circle than you. I get it.”

“But you’re sweet, got a little rattle snake in you, but you’re good people,” Ashton counters.He doesn’t want to discredit her by any means.

“I’m never going to have the best of both worlds. So you best decide now what world you want.”

Ashton watches Calum from the kitchen doorway, a beer in one hand and a coke in the other. “You ever think we could actually fit in Ash? Because if so, you’re a dip stick, the biggest one I’ve ever seen. If you thought just because I wasn’t Black, that you’d somehow could still skate into the white agenda, you were wrong. You can’t choose me and then accept her,” Calum counters. “Won’t ever work.:

“We’re outsiders, we live on the outskirts of town. We weren’t eva’ gonna fit in,” Michael says.

“But do we always have to be behind?” Ashton questions.

She places the pack down on the coffee table. “We will always be behind. And until you accept that, you’re never going to make it forward.”

It makes sense. They were always going to be pushed to the outskirts. They could never make it in. The door wouldn’t open for them. Ashton’s known this, but it was easier to be on the outside and still be white. He could still see the door, could still knock on it. She can’t even get a glance at it. “The world’s never gonna be fair to you,” Ashton sighs. “But the least I can do is be fair to you.”

“I hope it will be one day. Today’s just not the day.”

Ashton stands from the kitchen table, “Care for a beer? Coke? Water?”

“Coke’s fine, thanks.”

“You heard the lady, get her a coke,” he grins as Calum. He can be fair to her. The inside wasn’t meant for them anyhow. What would he gain? Status that all relied on following prescribed rules that meant nothing? That was his whole thing. Following who’s rules? Why follow them? What be the reason for it for him to break one and face backlash? It’s pointless that’s what it is.

“Bring that,” Calum urges, nodding to the pack. She grabs it and follows behind Calum to the back of the house. He points out bathrooms and bedroom. She pokes her head into Calum’s. Lots of posters cover the walls of various musicians.

“If I ain’t know better I’d say you might be into music.”

“Just a little,” Calum laughs.

“Too busy boxing now, huh?” She lands a few fake punches to his torso and Calum bows every so slightly at them. Their laughter is soft.

“I’m trying to keep it clean, legal.”

They settle onto the top step of the back porch and Calum sets the Coke near her feet. She hands him the pack. He taps it twice to his palm before pulling out a cigarette.

“Most people run when they know I fight, but not you.”

“Ain’t most people. And you ain’t the only one that can fight.”

He shakes his head, lips wrapped around the butt of the nicotine filled paper. Cookie’s got him there. She watches him flick the lighter and the way the flames lick at the paper. She watches the cut of his jaw, the way his hair falls in different directions around head now. “Shouldn’t grease it back so much,” she mutters, hand reaching up to play in it. She stops herself, asking him silently.

He nods. “Go ahead.” The cloud billows from his nose and mouth as he speaks. She drags her nails over his scalp, letting her fingers graze the soft strands. He holds the cigarette out to her. He grins when she hesitates. “I’m willing to share one. But if you’re afraid of cooties, I understand. I did get the shot though.”

She laughs, slapping his arm and takes the paper between her fingers before inhaling the nicotine. “Earlier,” she starts, passing the burning paper back to Calum, “that red light made me think of the cross in my front yard. I’ve got a brother and sister. Both younger than me. I’m terrified for them. They’re going to have same shitty world that I had. We march, we protest and we die. For what?”

“So the world’s not so shitty for them,” Calum exhales.”Maybe, hopefully.”

“Easier said than done.”

“No one said life was easy. Because if so, they’re a goddamn liar.” Calum holds out the cigarette for her, but she shakes her head, going for the bottle at her feet. “I’m sorry about Ashton. He means well. Just a worrier. Thought I had talked sense into him earlier.”

“I’m not upset.” It’s silent, the crickets sounding from the bushes. Calum thinks about all the hate she sees on a daily. How does she do it? He figures it’s not without trouble. They’re all burdened. No one in life gets through it untouched. Everyone has scars.

Calum’s comforted by the silence between them and before he’s realizing he’s talking. The words are just coming out of his mouth. “My parents kicked me out. I wasn’t always here. I mean, I was always other. I was always a fighter though I never liked it. I was always different. But I wasn’t always labeled different, outside.”

“You get by though.”

Calum nods, letting her take the last hit of the cigarette. “Car shop is good cash. How I got my bike. Tutor helps a little. Nearly dropped out, but Ash footed a lot of the expenses. I had to repeat a year, which ain’t the prettiest thing to admit. It took me a while to find a place to stay, wasn’t going to school all too often.”

“I bet that makes the kids feel better. The ones you tutor.” She figured Calum was older, figured that they had meet in English class by some repeat or calculation but she wasn’t sure.

“It does. They know it’s okay if things take them a bit longer.”

“Thanks. For coming to our side. For helping out. It helps more than you might now.”

“Pleasure’s all mine.” There’s another pause. He watches the smoke float from her lips. “Can I see you again? Maybe actually have an actual date?”

“Telling me sharing a cigarette on your back porch isn’t a date?”

“Exactly,” Calum laughs. He hasn’t even touched his beer. He doesn’t really want it. He brought it just in case she didn’t want the fizzy drink. He’s not too upset about it. One of the other boys will take it no doubt.

They sit outside, way after all the nicotine is inhaled. She rests her head onto Calum’s shoulder. “I vote next date is food. Because every time I see you you not eating!”

“I eat I swear to it!”

“Picnic, my place. You’ll have to excuse the anklebiters if they’re around.”

“Next time, your place. I’ll excuse the anklebiters. If they’re around.”

The ride back to her house isn’t long. Feels much shorter this time around. The redlight doesn’t shock her system. The wind on her face is welcomed as it blows back Calum’s scent too. He pulls into the driveway and walks her up to the door.

“Thanks for tonight. Even though it didn’t turn out like we planned.”

Calum shrugs. He enjoys the way it turned out. “Clearly it well enough for me to get a second date.”

“Calum, if I didn’t know better I would say you’re trying to get jacketed.”

He laughs. “I know I want to see you again.” It’s direct and skirts around the going steady tease. Truth be told, he’s not sure about that. But he doesn’t want to completely ruin his chances with her.

The door creaks open a little. “Good night, Calum.”

“Good night, Cookie.” She steps into the house, sending him a small wave. He waves back and waits for the door to close. He had plenty of time, he thinks at his own place to kiss her. Or make some sort of move. But maybe it was better that they just talked, that they spilt guts to each other that they hadn’t let others see just yet.

Calum starts down the porch when the front door creaks open again. He’s not sure what’s wrong but before he can turn around fully to ask, lips are pressed gently to his cheek.

“You missed,” Calum teases. Cookie, still bent over, pushes into his cheek and Calum turns to face her completely. Her lips are soft against his and holy hell--it’s happening. Their shared breath is the slight sweet of her Coke and the bitterness of nicotine.

“Ain’t miss that time,” Cookie teases. Her lips brush against her as she speaks and they linger for what feels like an eternity, lips just centimeters from each other and breathing in the other’s exhales.

“Wasn’t a footballer, but you’re gunning for that jacket,” Calum whispers.

“I think I look good in leather,” she hums, brushing her nose over his.

“Bet you look gorgeous in it.” It leaves him in an exhale. Her chuckle is soft before she straightening back up. She slips into the dark of the house, waving one last time to Calum.

His boots nearly trip him as he heads down to his bike. Calum can still feel teh ghost of her lips on his. Her nails are still pressing into the flesh of his cheek to keep his head straight. Not like with a kiss like that he wouldn’t have followed her anyway she wanted him to go.

He’s gonna get in deep with her; he can feel it. And he doesn’t even care.

56 notes · View notes

takonei · 4 years

Text

Beta AU - Main story, Chapter 5, daily life (Part 2)

Note of the author: Exams are a bitch but I’m bitcher

Also, please expect the AU to get a new chapter every two weeks from now on.

Chapter 5: An oath to one’s lost humanity - Daily life

...

"What am I, really?"

...

"My mind feels like it's going to shatter into pieces."

...

"It hurts."

...

Day 18 since the beginning of the game.

6:30 AM.

Shuichi woke up to the sound of his alarm. He had put it on so he would be ready by 7:00 AM- the time everyone chose to reunite and finally go through the tunnels.

With newfound energy, he made his daily routine.

He had packed a few things he wanted to take with him in bags they had found at the warehouse.

Tsumugi and Kiyo's notebooks, some of the items the others gave to him as a souvenir, but he preferred not to pack too much stuff as he would have to take both Ryoma's weapons and a part of the foods and drinks for outside.

Once ready, he pushed the door of his room. Kirumi and Miu were already there. There were a few packages at their feet.

"Good morning, Shuichi! Ready to go?" the street artist called.

"Good morning!" he approached them. "What are those for?" he asked, pointing the objects.

Kirumi handed him one. "Those are the food packs with a bottle of water. Make sure to take one."

He opened his bag and did as told.

Shuichi had just noticed that Miu didn't put on her leather jacket, and Kirumi had put her whole uniform back on.

"Oh... Did you two decide to switch back to the usual uniform?"

Miu shrugged. "I kept the jacket in my bag. If we go through the tunnels that ain't going to be the most practical thing to wear."

"As for me, this is a similar situation. Besides, I asked Rantaro to reinforce the bandages, and this is also in case we have to brave the cold outside."

It's true that they had no idea what was waiting for them. Sure, if nature managed to grow trees inside the academy, then outside shouldn't be that bad.

But if they were in the middle of nowhere and had to walk days to find even one person alive, then surely they would need enough clothing.

However...

He kept thinking back at what they learned from the flashback lights. The meteorites. The ultimate hunt. The funerals. The people claiming mankind deserved damnation.

The academy is the only place they know is safe from potential dangers. But considering the current situation, to get out was better than to kill each other for a time limit.

For now, they had to focus on their main objective.

To get out of here.

The others were ready, but...

"Where are Rantaro and Ryoma?"

The two soldiers hadn't shown up yet.

Kirumi had her monopad out. "They are both in Ryoma's lab. I'm supposing they're doing the final touches to the equipment."

The monopads...

"Shouldn't we leave the monopads here? Monokuma can track us if we keep them..." Kokichi noted.

Good point.

"The rules say the monopads mustn't be damaged. They don't say anything about being left here." Kirumi explained.

What was the point of following the rules anymore? Were they even going to be chased by the exisals?

Only Monodam and Monokuma could control them, but if they were outside the academy, could they really do something to them?

Perhaps with Ryoma's weapons, they could work things out.

Shuichi found strange the fact that Monokuma didn't try to stop them, though.

Maybe it was because they hadn't broken a rule yet. But they would break the first rule once they step outside the academy.

... He really hoped Ryoma was indeed living up to his talent.

They took care of the last details and before they knew it, Rantaro opened the door, everyone suddenly turning to him.

He looked even more tired than yesterday, somehow. Had he even slept?

"... The weapons are waiting in Ryoma's lab. We can't bring them all at once here."

The group went to the fifth floor. Shuichi had this uncomfortable feeling in his chest, like he knew things would go wrong, but he repressed it. This was their only chance, and they had no choice but to do it.

Ryoma was waiting in front of the lab. There were several machines that looked like guns, and two heavy weapons behind.

"Is everyone here?" he asked.

"Yup. No one's missing."

"Good." he took the smaller guns and gave one to each. They were black and dark blue with a symbol resembling the one on Ryoma's beanie on them. They were lighter than Shuichi expected. "Let me explain how these guns work."

"They aren't normal guns. I guess you could call them hacking guns. You put the ammo in, you aim for a machine and it's done for. That's what we're going to use for the traps."

He distributed several sets of tiny blue bullets.

"Let me give you a demonstration."

He took his gun, opened a small chamber on the side, inserted a bullet, and closed it. He aimed at one of the Monokuma statues near the stairs that were usually moving somehow and pulled the trigger.

The wings of the bear replica started vibrating, then completely froze. The statue wobbled and fell onto the floor with a loud crash.

"Woah..."

He put the gun back in his bag. "I'll give you enough ammo for you guys to be safe, but don't use them too much. We have limited resources."

Ryoma gave them about ten bullets each. "Each bullet gives you 50 shots. There's an indicator on the gun showing how many are left. You can only insert one bullet at a time."

"As for the heavy weapons, they will be for Rantaro and I, so you don't have to worry about them."

The mercenary raised an eyebrow. "What are these for?"

He took one of them and put the strap around him. "Heavier weapons for heavier targets. You should know what I mean."

... The exisals.

Those weapons looked dangerous. Surely they would be enough to resist Monokuma's mechas. Especially if there were only two of them.

Rantaro took the second one without a complaint.

These looked really heavy though. Was their training enough to help them carry such bulky weaponry?

It looked like it, and that was a terrifying thought.

Kaito looked at Ryoma. "You managed to do all of these in one night?"

He shrugged. "That's kind of my talent. Besides, I only had to do the hacking guns from scratch. The heavy weaponry had already built-in pieces in the boxes."

Did he even sleep? That still must have taken a huge amount of time.

"Is everyone ready?" Rantaro asked, putting his backpack on.

The violinist observed his gun for a moment.

"... Yes."

They all made their way to the death road of despair.

It was tough for the two soldiers to fit their giant weaponry into the manhole, but that was not a huge problem in the end.

"This is it..." Miu muttered. "We're leaving."

"No regrets. The others wanted this for us. We cannot fail." Rantaro took a step forward, facing the tunnel. "We got an opportunity to escape and we cannot afford to miss it."

He turned to them. "I understand the doubt, but if we all want to survive, that's what we have to do."

"So no going back. Got it?"

Shuichi nodded.

He still had doubts about everything. About the outside world. About Monokuma. And...

Was there really a traitor among them? If so, they hadn't even tried to stop them- they let them do whatever they wanted.

Surely, they would have a way to stop them, right?

Unless...

Would it put their identity in danger? If they even tried to suggest this was a bad idea, they would be suspicious in the eyes of everyone.

... Or it was because they knew they couldn't escape?

So many questions ran through his head, but for now, he had to follow Rantaro and the rest of them.

They entered the tunnels, Shuichi firmly gripping his hacking gun. He checked the indicator. 50 shots left to use wisely.

He was ready.

He could hear their footsteps echoing through the dark tunnels as they walked in silence.

Shuichi heard a strange noise from behind him, and not even a second later, Kirumi turned around and shot the origin of it.

The bomb that was flying towards them fell to the ground, surprisingly not exploding.

"These guns work wonders!" Kaito exclaimed.

"Kirumi, I thought you didn't use guns for your missions... I didn't think you would have such a precise aim." Shuichi turned to the mercenary.

"Because I don't use them doesn't mean I don't know how to. They simply are not my first choice of weapons."

"Please try not to rely on one person too much, we're going to waste time unnecessarily if we have to give ammo to her over and over again." Ryoma advised.

"Got it!"

The walk through the tunnels was surprisingly easy thanks to their new weapons. Whenever a trap activated, they shot a bullet at it and it was done for. It almost felt like a video game.

Sometimes several of them had to shoot at once because of the number of traps, but what was an impossible challenge for them two weeks ago was now more than doable.

It felt good to have a sense of control. To be superior to the robotic bear forcing them to do all this.

... Could they even use the hacking guns on Monokuma? Of course, that would be against the rules but... Once outside and thus breaking one of the rules, they could deactivate him, right?

Or even if the plan doesn't work for some reason, they could still try to defeat Monokuma and end the game.

Even if the supposed mastermind made more copies of him, they still had plenty of ammo and weaponry to deal with an army of them.

But for now, he had to focus on what was ahead.

Some of the traps, unfortunately, couldn't be deactivated, so sometimes they still had to run as fast as they could.

None of them ended up getting injured though.

After what felt like an eternity of running and trap deactivation, they stopped in their tracks. He looked up to see...

... The door. The end of the tunnel, right in front of them.

"We... We made it..."

"Is that the exit?" Miu approached the thing.

"There's a shutter, though..." Kokichi noted.

Perhaps they could disable it with the guns.

Shuichi couldn't help but smile. "We did it... We can finally get out..."

"Are we sure this is the outside world, though?" Kaito asked.

Ryoma approached the panel in front of the door. "I doubt it would be a dead end. As strange as this academy is, there has to be a way out, somehow."

But... He could still feel the unsettling feeling he had prior to the trip here.

Why wasn't Monokuma here trying to stop them? Was it because they had weapons?

Was it because he had changed his strategy?

"Let's finish this."

Ryoma took out his gun and...

*Bang!*

He shot the control panel.

The electric shutter turned off, and the light turned green.

Lock disabled.

"It's... over?" Miu's eyes widened.

"Then let's go!" Kaito exclaimed.

"Hold on, we still have to be careful. We do not know what's outside." Kirumi took out her gun, changing the bullet inside it.

Rantaro and Ryoma put their own aside to take the heavy weaponry they had carried all the way here.

They were ready.

They pushed the door.

But the moment they thought they would feel the fresh breeze of the outside...

They saw it.

A city in ruins, a red sky looming over them, and not a single trace of humanity beyond that door. It was the apocalypse.

A scene full of despair.

With the harsh wind blowing on them, Shuichi suddenly felt unable to breathe, like everyone else.

He saw some of them falling to the ground, and it wasn't long before he himself fainted.

The last thing he saw before drifting into unconsciousness was Kirumi heading towards the panel with difficulty.

Trying to... close the...

... door...

...

After an unknown amount of time, he woke up.

Shuichi slowly opened his eyes. Everything was blurry around him.

He sat up, trying to make out the scene before him.

The door was closed, and everyone was on the ground, slowly waking up as well.

"What... What is this?"

He tried to stand up, taking deep breaths.

"What the hell was that??" Kaito yelled.

"Why is everything in ruin?? What the hell happened?" Miu exclaimed, hands on her head.

"That was definitely the outside world, but... How did it end up like this?" Ryoma stared at the door.

Kirumi slowly sat up from the control panel.

"We didn't get to see much but I think that was enough to say the outside world isn't a solution anymore."

"B-B-But how d-did this happen?? W-What... What happened?" Kokichi couldn't even form a sentence.

Shuichi tried to apprehend what he just saw. "The outside world... Is in ruins...?"

"Then... If the outside world is in ruin..." Miu muttered. She suddenly put both of her hands on her mouth. "Kaz-"

The violinist's eyes widened. If everything was in ruin then... Where were their loved ones?

Were they-

"No... Nonononononono-"

"Then..." Ryoma looked at the door with concern. "Was this game of 'kill to get outside' a lie?"

They all wanted to leave but this... This was the outside world?

Was everyone dead? Were they the only people alive? Was the entire outside world like this?

"So! You finally learned your lesson?"

A robotic voice called. Monokuma appeared in front of the door.

"This is the outside world you all have been trying to achieve! Isn't it splendid?"

...

He couldn't believe this.

"If you thought I would let any of you leave, then that's wrong! I didn't stop you *because* I knew you couldn't leave! Did any of you think your lovely headmaster wouldn't be more careful?"

...

No one was able to mutter a single word. Everyone was dead. The outside world was no more. They were fighting for a world that didn't exist anymore.

"This is where I shall give you the second motive!"

...

He wasn't even listening anymore.

"Although... Now isn't exactly a good time, is it?"

...

Huh?

"It would be better if every one of you was awake for the motive announcement!"

Everyone... Awake?

"Rantaro...?"

He heard Ryoma's voice from behind.

Rantaro was still unconscious on the floor.

"Rantaro!!"

The weapons maker put a knee down next to him. He placed a hand on his chest and let out a sigh of relief.

"... He's breathing. Only unconscious."

But... Why...? Why was he the only one still unconscious?

Miu ran up to him as well. "What should we do? What happened to him? Why isn't he awake?"

"I don't know, Miu. I don't know."

"Wake up! Please!" she cried. "Please..."

But her tears couldn't bring miracles.

The medic was sleeping. And nothing on his face indicated a peaceful sleep. He looked terrified, like the rest of them right now.

The others approached him as well, ignoring the bear.

"Hey! Pay attention to your headmaster!"

...

No one did.

"Give him some space. He needs to breathe."

"How are we even going to get back to the academy? Do we wait for him to wake up?"

"No! He needs more than just resting! He needs to be taken care of!"

"What, you can carry him?"

"W-We also have his stuff to carry..."

Kirumi put a knee on the floor. "... I'll carry him. Someone will need to transport my equipment and Rantaro's, but I can try to carry him."

"Really? You have the strength?"

"I don't see anyone else volunteering. I can give it a try. He doesn't look too heavy."

"HEY!"

The bear yelled from behind.

"I said, I have the motive to show you guys!"

"Shut your fucking mouth! No one needs you to-

*Bang!*

Before Shuichi could think, a gunshot was heard.

But it missed its target.

And the one who tried to shoot...

... Was none other than Ryoma, who had just stood up, gun in hand.

He glared at the bear with frightening blue eyes. The glare similar to Rantaro's.

"... None of you learn their lessons. It is quite sad."

"Shut it. If you think you're going to get away with this entire game of yours, you are sorely mistaken."

He wrapped his finger around the trigger.

"I missed on purpose just now as a warning. Leave us alone or I'll make sure to use each and every one of your pieces as I please."

"So now, do yourself a favor and get out of here."

There was a long silence.

"... If you think a single toy will make me comply, then you did not learn a single thing from this game. I feel sorry for you."

"The rules are quite clear. Any violence against the headmaster is prohibited."

Ryoma didn't move.

"Oh well, since one of you is still out, I can't exactly give you the second motive, so for now... Buh-bye!~"

Finally, Monokuma left.

And silence settled in the room once more.

Ryoma lowered the gun and put it back into his bag.

"... We're going to have to think of a new strategy. But for now it's useless to stay here any longer."

Shuichi tried to push his worries away. "W-What do you suggest?"

The weapons maker pondered for a moment.

"There's nothing left to see here. So we can go back to the academy. That's our priority for now."

"Kirumi, you'll carry Rantaro since he doesn't look like he'll wake up anytime soon. Kaito, I'm going to ask you to take his weapon since you're probably the second strongest here-

"I'll do it."

They turned to Miu. "... I'll take the gun. I'm a bit stronger than I look, you know?"

Her voice was low, almost shaking. She must still be in shock.

Shuichi remembered the day Kokichi and her were locked up in the lab. When she carried him back to the dorms.

Perhaps she was indeed the stronger of the two.

"... Alright. I know better than to underestimate people by their physical appearance."

"I'll take Kirumi's bag and one of you take Rantaro's. Then we're out."

Kaito was the one to take it this time.

"We'll think about what we just saw once we're out. For now, there's more urgent."

Shuichi nodded.

They took everything they had and walked back to the entrance.

He realized Ryoma managed to take the lead rather quickly. But right now, it was not a bad thing, considering their mental state.

The walk felt long, as the silence and the shock was making the atmosphere heavier and heavier.

The violinist looked at Kirumi, who had Rantaro on her back. She didn't look like she was struggling much carrying him.

He had no idea how the medic was holding up. What was the deal with him?

He asked himself that question so many times already, and yet he never got the answer.

Everyone was exhausted. Good thing they didn't have to deal with traps on the way back.

They had prepared themselves just to see the outside world is nothing but ruins?

This felt so wrong.

The group arrived at the entrance, but a problem immediately surfaced.

There was no way Kirumi could climb the ladder with Rantaro on her back.

"... Shit. I forgot about that part." Ryoma muttered.

"W-What do we do, then?" Kokichi asked.

There was a long silence.

"I can still try to climb the ladder, but we will need to find a way to make sure Rantaro doesn't slip off."

"Too dangerous. We can't risk his life for this."

"So what do you suggest?"

Ryoma looked at the manhole, then back at the group.

"One of you stays here while we bring back the weapons to my lab. I'll come back after to watch over him."

"Why not just leaving us the weapons? We know where your lab is." Kaito raised an eyebrow.

"I want to make sure the weapons are safe. I'm not leaving any of them in the hands of that stupid bear."

Good point.

"Then... Who stays?"

Miu crossed her arms, looking away. "Well... Kirumi carried Rantaro the entire way back, so... Perhaps we should give her a break from carrying weapons. Her back must hurt like hell."

... She still didn't know, did she?

Ryoma stared at her for a moment. "Fair enough. Kirumi, does it bother you to stay here?"

"Not at all. We have the resources in the bags, I can give them to him if he needs to in case he wakes up."

She gently put the medic on the ground with the help of Miu and Ryoma, and a half-emptied bag behind his head as a pillow.

He hadn't moved a single inch ever since they opened the door to the outside world.

The others took the rest of the equipment and Kirumi's hacking gun and started climbing the ladder.

Shuichi shot one last glance at her. She was sitting back to the wall, keeping a close eye on Rantaro.

For now, they had to take back the weapons to Ryoma's lab.

On the way here, he tried to think about what they just saw. The crimson scenery, the destroyed buildings, and the howling wind that knocked them all out.

If the entire world was nothing but ruins... Then what were they fighting for?

Why did Tenko give them more time to find a way out to a deceased world?

Why did Maki go so far as to kill someone at random if her family was decimated?

Why giving them reasons to go back to a world that doesn't exist?

Why did everyone make those sacrifices?

Why were they the only ones still alive?

These questions kept echoing in Shuichi's head. And no one had an answer to them.

They arrived at the weapons maker's lab.

"... I'll take care of these. We'll discuss important matters once Rantaro wakes up. Besides, you guys probably need to free your minds right now."

Kaito frowned. "'You guys'? Don't you include yourself in this?"

He paused for a moment. "... I'll go back to watch over Rantaro soon enough and let Kirumi go back to the academy. Also, I don't think I can rest without thinking about what we saw outside."

Shuichi glanced away for a moment, then looked back at him. "But-

His gaze was enough to tell he wasn't taking no for an answer.

The four left the lab upon Ryoma's request.

But even after closing the door behind them, he would see the uneasiness on their faces.

Miu looked like she was holding back tears. Kaito looked distressed as well, but was either less touched or was hiding it better.

As for Kokichi, it was hard to tell what he was thinking.

They went to the dining hall. Perhaps grabbing a snack would make them feel a little better.

But the moment they stepped foot in the dining hall...

... They saw a flashback light on the table.

"... Huh?" Miu blinked.

Kaito approached the thing. "Why is it here? It's unused, but... Couldn't Monokuma have given it to us yesterday?"

That was indeed strange.

"We can only wait for the others, then..." Shuichi muttered.

They sat around the table. None of them were even hungry. The violinist had just taken a glass of water.

He crossed his arms and put his face in them. The others were not in the mood either.

Kaito had stayed right outside the room to tell Ryoma about the flashback light.

After some time, he went back to the dining hall. "We're good. Now I guess Kirumi will come back soon enough."

They sat in silence. Sure, they could try to do something productive in the meantime, but... Everyone wordlessly agreed to stay here.

Some time after, the door reopened, revealing the mercenary.

She sat with the others without a word. She didn't look as shocked and worried, though. It was hard to tell how she was feeling.

...

"... What a silence." Kirumi noted after a long period of time.

"Well, do you have something to say?" Kaito asked. He noticed a hint of bitterness in his voice.

"Not really. I simply wish to understand what we witnessed."

"What's the point?" Kokichi muttered, voice muffled by his arms. "We can't get out of here anyway. We're going to die by the time limit. None of us have anything to go back to."

He was right. Either they die in the outside world, or they die executed by Monokuma when the time limit arrives.

There was no other choice.

"Not to be too blunt, but you all disappoint me."

Shuichi perked up. "Huh?"

"Look. Perhaps I am the only one in this case. I don't have anything to go back to in the outside world, in shambles or not. But I've dedicated my whole life to survival even when I knew nothing was waiting for me. This is no different and I'm not going to give up on everything I've done until now because of it."

"Excuse me?" Kaito suddenly stood up, approaching Kirumi. "We have families that are probably dead by now! We have something to go back to! But you saw the same thing we saw back there! There's nothing! Everyone is dead!"

The mercenary didn't back down, even though Kaito was mere inches away from her. "I know that as much as you do, thank you. But have you seriously lost your survival instinct and your respect for the dead the second your eyes landed on this hellish landscape? Because it sure looks like it."

"WHAT DO YOU KNOW ABOUT RESPECTING THE DEAD?? YOU KILL PEOPLE FOR A LIVING, FOR FUCK'S SAKE!!"

...

Those words echoed through the room.

Kaito was glaring at her. He was furious.

Kirumi, on the other hand, looked like she was holding back an immense amount of rage. Her cold, green eyes kept staring at the biker.

Without a word, she went back to the door, the eery tapping of her heels being the only sound in the room.

"Where are you going??"

She stopped for a moment.

"I am not welcome here, so I am leaving. Simple as that. I will be in my lab. Call me back when the flashback light is ready to be used."

"Wait-"

She closed the door behind her.

The amount of self-control she had was terrifying.

"Kaito... That was kind of harsh, don't you think?" he muttered.

He scoffed. "She's a freaking mercenary! She wouldn't have this job if she actually cared about peoples' lives!"

"But... She's right on certain points..." Kokichi nervously fidgeted with his sleeves. "If we give up now, then we're giving up everything we've done so far... And everyone would have died for nothing..."

"Because we didn't know there was nothing to go back to. I doubt we would have done something if we knew the world had ended from the start." Miu crossed his arms on the table. She was only muttering those words, an obvious sadness in her eyes.

Would they... Would they really have given up that easily back then? Would they have let themselves die?

"But still... We should at least try to understand the situation before agreeing on such a serious decision..." Shuichi suggested.

They looked at each other for a moment.

Kaito sat back down. "Let's just... Wait for Ryoma and Rantaro to come."

Silence settled upon them once again. But some of Shuichi's thoughts were replaced by guilt.

After some time, he stood up. "I'll... try to talk to Kirumi."

He left before anyone could say anything.

The violinist walked to her lab. Fortunately, it wasn't that far.

He knocked on the door. A few moments later, the mercenary opened. "... Are they back?"

"No, I just... thought I could talk to you."

She paused.

"Come in."

The two sat on the chairs. Kirumi was staring at nothing in particular, the rhythmic tapping of her nails echoing through the room.

"I'm... I'm sure Kaito didn't mean what he said." He broke the silence. But he had no idea if his statement was true or not.

"It's fine."

That would have been a bit more convincing if he hadn't already heard this quote used as a lie over and over again by the remaining survivors.

"But I stand my point. Your lack of survival instinct disgusts me."

"W-What do you mean?" perhaps he could learn a bit more about her ideals. She had always been silent about them.

"I've fought many battles in the past. All of them were for my own survival. I've never fought for anything or anyone but myself. It was survival of the fittest, after all. Never once have I completed a mission with any other intentions than 'if I do not kill my target, I will die'. This is everything I've lived for."

For someone to have such a strong survival instinct... That is probably why she is still alive to this day.

"Do not get me wrong, if another path opened that allowed me to live my life without those missions, I would gladly take it. I do not take pleasure in killing."

That was a bit reassuring, somehow.

"However I do not mind doing so if it means allowing myself to live longer."

He thought for a moment. Asking that question was a bit risky but... He wanted to. "I understand your thought process, but..."

"Why didn't you kill anyone? Considering your talent, you could have gotten away with it."

"Getting away with murder is not an easy task. No matter how strong and smart you are, you cannot escape the killing game rules if you get found out. You have seen it, even the slightest mistakes can be fatal."

"Besides, we have the ultimate karma in our group. To kill someone to escape would be suicide."

"What about the first blood perk? You could have killed someone easily and Monokuma would have let you out."

She paused for a moment. Shuichi could feel his heart pounding in his chest as she stared at him.

"... At this point I do not think saying it would have many consequences, whether you're responsible for this mess or not."

He didn't know what to say. "What do you mean?"

"I never acted because I have the feeling Monokuma would have never kept his promise."

Shuichi blinked. "W-What do you mean?"

"I did not know how Monokuma worked at the time. Would you really trust the bear keeping us trapped here to keep the promise of letting you go free if you kill someone?"

... Not at all.

"I will admit I considered it. But my trust for this bear is lower than anything else, which is why I passed this so-called opportunity." she explained. "I hope I answered your question."

He nodded. A part of him wanted to believe it was because she didn't want to kill, but... Perhaps he had too much faith. Kirumi was a trained killer, after all. It's only normal she would act strategically.

The room was silent for a while. Shuichi couldn't tell if it was tense or peaceful.

"Changing the subject, you are pretty dense, aren't you?" she asked.

"W-What do you mean?"

"When I said I didn't want to talk to anyone yesterday, I was waiting for you in my lab."

... Oh.

"Wait, really?"

She sighed. "It's fine. You said you needed to rest, anyway."

Still.

"W-What did you want to talk about?"

"Rantaro's obvious lie back in the exisal hangar."

His heart skipped a beat. "U-Um... Which part are you talking about?"

"To be honest, I do not know which words that came out of his mouth are lies and which are not, but I am mostly talking about the reason he used a scalpel."

Shuichi frowned. "He said he had to take care of an old scar that reopened, right?"

"And why would you use a scalpel for this?"

He paused. "To... undo the stitches?"

She blinked at him a few times. "And here I thought you had common sense."

"H-Hey!"

"You don't cut stitches with a scalpel when you have scissors. That's basic knowledge, and he is a war medic."

...

"You think... he lied to us?"

"I don't 'think'. I'm certain he lied."

"But if he used that on anyone else, they would have said something-

He brutally stopped.

...

"Do you think... He..."

Shuichi trailed off, growing more worried by the second.

But before he could add anything, there was a knock on the door.

They looked at each other for a second.

Kirumi opened the door, revealing Kokichi. "They're back."

The three made their way to the dining hall.

But before they could enter, Shuichi heard some noise inside- people arguing, most likely. He didn't recognize the voices, unfortunately.

Kokichi opened the door to reveal that the ones arguing were Rantaro and Miu.

"We can't just leave you out of these! They're important for all of us!"

"Please, Miu. My head is killing me. I told you I'll be fine without it."

"What is the ruckus about?" Kirumi asked, everyone suddenly turning to her.

"I said that I'll let you guys use the flashback light without me because I'm tired enough as it is."

"But your memories! We can't use this without you!"

"You'll just tell me what it was about! But right now I feel like shit and I'm going to rest, okay?" he only slightly raised his voice.

He started making his way towards the door.

Shuichi, who was already worried sick about him, put himself in the way. "I know you probably need rest, but... Perhaps you can do that after we use it? Or we can use it after you rested a little?"

... He had no idea what he was doing. Hopefully, this wouldn't go too badly.

Rantaro looked at him with tired, empty eyes. "Please, move. I don't have the energy to confront any of you right now."

The violinist looked past him at Miu, who narrowed her eyes for a moment.

"I'm sorry, but..."

The medic perked up, his expression suddenly changing to a panicked one.

He instantly turned around. "DON'T YOU D-

*clic!*

Miu activated the flashback light.

The memories rushed to his mind.

The meteorites.

The end of the world approaching.

Leaders of every nation wanting to prevent the extinction of the human race. They had created the Gofer Project not to save humanity, but rather to salvage it. And they were the ones chosen for this mission.

They were going to be the ones recreating humanity from the ashes, passing their legacy on, and discover perhaps a new planet to live on.

He remembered saying goodbye to his uncle and cousin as the ones working on the project were waiting for him.

He had left his family, his friends, and everyone behind for the project.

They were humanity's last hope. The 16 chosen ones to carry on Earth's legacy.

...

His vision slowly came back to him.

But his eyes immediately turned to Rantaro, who was struggling to keep himself steady, hands on his head, breathing heavily and shaking slightly.

"A-Are you okay?" He wanted to put his hands on his shoulders but refrained from doing so.

He stayed like this for a moment. Had they seen the same thing with the flashback light?

Ryoma approached him. "You good?"

After a few more shaky deep breaths, he stood back up, a hand still gripping his head.

"I'm... fine."

Shuichi turned back to the others.

Kaito was looking at the ground, processing what just happened.

Kirumi was staring at the three with concern, but it was most likely she was also pondering about the situation.

Kokichi was thinking as well. This was a lot to take in.

But Miu... She had both hands on her mouth, desperately trying to hold back tears.

"K-Kaz... I abandoned him... I..."

They all had to leave their families behind. Their loved ones. Everyone they wanted to live with, they had to abandon them for the Gofer Project.

To salvage humanity.

Miu fell on her knees. "H-He's... He's dead..."

The others stared at her for a moment. No one had comforting words to help.

But to Shuichi's surprise, Rantaro was the first to approach her, kneeling down.

"Hey."

The street artist lifted her head.

"They wanted this for us. They wanted us to live. Even if they're not here anymore, the least we can do is to salvage their memory."

"And it's by staying alive that we can honor them. If we are indeed humanity's last hope..."

"... Then we shall carry on their legacy and fight until the very end. For our siblings. For our friends. For our family. For everyone who believed in us. Whether they were strangers, acquaintances, or much more than that."

"No one would want to see us so soon in the afterlife. So even if it's hard, even if we have challenges to surpass, even if we have enemies in our way, there is only one path to follow if we want to be satisfied with our lives."

"It's to keep living on."

Rantaro's voice was low, but confident. He may have been talking to Miu, but his words pierced Shuichi's heart as well.

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, it was like he had regained his will. Although these last few days were harsh, he seemed to be back to the soldier he claimed to be since the very beginning.

Even if they had different ideals, even if they were fighting for drastically different causes, even if they had different visions of life, their objective was the same.

To live.

Miu stared at him for a moment. She glanced away, like she was hesitating.

And without a warning, she wrapped her arms around him. He looked surprised at first, but hugged her back anyway.

The young woman started crying all the tears in her body.

It then felt like a chain reaction.

Shuichi felt warm tears form in his eyes. He put a hand on his mouth and looked at the ground.

A hand landed on his shoulder, he looked up to see Kaito next to him. He looked away for a second. There wasn't a single word spoken, but it was not necessary. The biker pulled him into a hug, letting Shuichi cry on his chest. He doesn't know if Kaito was even doing so as well. But right now, all he was thinking was the same phrase over and over.

Everyone is dead.

Neither Kirumi, Kokichi, nor Ryoma cried. They already had no one to go back to, but stayed silent for the sake of the others.

They could only follow Rantaro's words.

But after a moment, he felt Kaito moving slightly. He looked up to see him looking at Kirumi.

He turned to the mercenary. She pointed at Rantaro and Miu, who were still on the floor, holding onto each other like a lifeline.

At first, he didn't see what was wrong, but on a closer look, Rantaro was staring at the void with wide, fearful eyes. It wasn't the face of a comforting person- but rather someone who was completely terrified.

He glanced back at Kirumi for a second, who gestured that they should be separated as soon as possible.

Kaito approached Miu and tapped on her shoulder.

She opened her eyes, blurry with tears.

The biker pointed at the person she was hugging.

She frowned for a moment, then looked like she had just realized what was happening.

"H-Hey... You're hurting me a little here-"

...

No response.

"Rantaro...?"

He was shaking.

The street artist tried to move her hands to his shoulders to perhaps try and push him away for a moment, but his grip was too strong.

"Rantaro...!"

He suddenly perked up. "Huh?"

Realizing how he was positioned, he instantly let go of her.

"... Sorry, I was out for a moment."

That's not 'being out', but sure.

The two stood back up, Miu looking seriously concerned for him.

There was a heavy silence in the room.

"What... What do we do...?" Kokichi muttered. "I don't even know what to think anymore."

... No one answered. No one had a plan. No one knew what they could do.

What broke the silence first was the sound of the monitor turning on.

"Ahem! This is a school announcement!"

Kaito raised an eyebrow. "Again?"

"Everyone, please gather at the gym immediately!"

... That must be about the second motive.

Was the time limit not enough? What did he even want?

They made their way to where they were requested to go.

And on the stage was Monokuma, eating what looked like a salmon, next to several huge boxes painted black and white.

There was an awkward moment as everyone stared at the bear.

"Finally! I've waited so very long to announce this motive! If all of could stop fainting each time I try to do something, that could be nice!" he exclaimed as he threw away the half-eaten fish.

For once, no one said anything. Perhaps because they were all done with his games.

"... Could you kids lighten up a little? I will announce you all the next motive! Did you like the last flashback light, by the way?"

"I currently want to gut you of your wires until you're nothing more than a metallic empty shell. Is that the answer you're looking for?" Ryoma sarcastically said, glaring at the bear.

"Puhuhu... Such passion in hatred! I haven't seen it in years!"

"How old even are you?" Kokichi asked, visibly annoyed.

"Those are mere details distracting you from the important!"

Shuichi almost forgot about the motive.

"The motive that I planned to give you from the start..."

The boxes suddenly opened, revealing what looked like military equipment and other objects Shuichi didn't know of.

"... Is the one that I call 'Surviving the No-Man's land!"

That didn't help in the slightest.

"If one of you manages to make their kill before the time limit and get away with it, they will receive all this equipment! Now you may be wondering what it is for, and so, I shall answer!"

"This motive was supposed to be given right after you discovered the truth of the outside world. But due to technical difficulties, I had to postpone the announcement."

Rantaro didn't react to that remark.

"All of this equipment was created by the organizers of the Gofer Project to discover the new horizons from outer space! With this equipment, you can safely travel across even the harshest worlds! And of course, that includes..."

"... The outside of this academy!"

Shuichi perked up. Of course, they had prepared something. But now, it was in Monokuma's hands. The possibility to explore the outside was right in front of their eyes, but they couldn't take it.

This means if someone somehow manages to kill and get away with it, they will be the sole survivor of humanity, free to roam the crimson desert they had barely seen.

But... Who would want that?

Who would want to be the only survivor?

This doesn't make any sense. But with the time limit approaching, it became hopeless.

They now had three days to make a decision. To stay here and die, or to kill someone and have a chance to live.

This felt so absurd.

Monokuma closed the boxes. "Of course, I shall guard these precious objects safe from your clean little hands. Only the one with bloodied hands declared as an angel shall put a finger on it!"

Shuichi couldn't even feel disgusted anymore. He had already seen everything. Corpses. Executions. Mental breakdowns. The horrifying truth. Right now was just another magot in the pile.

"This was the school announcement, brought to you by your favorite headmaster! And now..."

With a slam on the podium, the floor opened beneath the boxes, making them out of reach.

"... I shall let you decide of your fate! Who shall prevail? Who shall die? Let the strongest and smartest thrive! I shall come back when your decision has been made!"

He left without another word.

At least he was gone, for now.

Shuichi glanced at the others. Judging by how everyone acted, no one would even try to do this, right?

He didn't really know. But this time, he felt more confident thinking that.

After all, everyone knew about the truth of the outside world. And to be the single ruler of humanity, to be the ultimate survivor... What was the point?

Ryoma looked at Rantaro for a moment. "I'm guessing you're thinking about the same plan as me?"

After a pause, Rantaro stepped forward. "That should be obvious."

"You... do have a plan?" Miu asked.

"There aren't a million ways to continue. I stick to what I said back in the dining hall. If we want to keep living on, there is only one solution."

"We're going to fight."

Shuichi almost jumped. "To fight Monokuma? But... He can still control the exisals, right?"

"And?"

He paused.

"The time limit is in three days. We have Ryoma's lab open, we have weapons, we have a safe place to live for the rest of our lives in, and right now, we have nothing to lose."

"We're going to fight Monokuma and the exisals. We're going to fight for our lives, even more than we ever did."

"We have among us someone more than capable of creating weapons strong enough for us to stand a chance. So there is only one solution to this."

"Ryoma is going to create those weapons. As for the rest of us, we will both train to fight and find out the rest of the secrets of this entire disaster."

"There is no way I'm going to let us all die here without fighting, and even if we die in the process, at least we will have tried."

"But I believe our victory is possible. I believe we can put an end to this madness once and for all. So..."

He raised his voice.

"Will you fight? Or will you let yourself die meaninglessly??"

... He would never give up in any circumstances, would he?

"Well??"

"I don't even need to say it." Ryoma put his hands in his pockets. "I'm not letting that bear dictate the rest of my days."

"You can count on me as well." Kirumi added. "I'm done with him."

"I'll fight! I said that I would yesterday, so I'll continue now!" Miu yelled.

"Even if... Even we're the sole survivors... I still want to fight." Kokichi muttered. "That's... what I promised to do, after all."

Shuichi took a step forward. "That's what we all promised, right?"

"You bet your ass that's what we promised!" Kaito exclaimed. "Even if I was never the most suited, I want to give that bear a piece of my mind!"

"Then are you guys ready to throw your lives for this? Are you ready to fight and possibly die for this cause?"

It's not like they had a choice.

"Yeah!" they yelled almost in unison.

Everyone parted their ways as nighttime was approaching. This day was long. Way too long. But now they had a plan. And even if the outside world was nothing but ruins, they would still fight.

He went to bed, a new objective in mind. Tomorrow he would train. He would read the notebooks. He would do something. More than he ever did in this game.

They were going to fight Monokuma and finish this, once and for all.

Even if he wasn't fit, even if he never thought about actually fighting Monokuma.

But judging by what Ryoma was capable of, to think they had a chance wasn't that much of a delusion.

He would have to read the notebooks, too. He had put them aside up until now, but they must have valuable information.

... Perhaps that was also a way to honor Tsumugi and Korekiyo.

Even if they lacked the information they had now, they were smart enough to find things on their own.

The end of the killing game was getting closer and closer now.

Soon, they would finally be free.

#ndrv3 #danganronpa v3 #ndrv3 au #beta au #main story

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