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dino-cattivo · 2 months

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Pray for me, cos I won't pray for you

My fic for the @the-centennial-husbands-bigbang!

The amazing art for this fic was done by @jeniidrawsshit and oh my god I love it so so much. It is just so amazing.

LINK TO THE ART!!! GO CHECK IT OUT!!

Pairing: Hob/Dream

Rating: mature

Word Count: 40,657

Tags: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Happy Ending, Eventual Happy Ending, Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, gore like the dinner episode, The Corinthian is His Own Warning (The Sandman), Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Attempted Sexual Assault, Blood and Injury, Alternate Universe - Mob, Organized Crime, Hob joins the mafia, Self Confidence Issues, Hob Gadling Loves Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, POV Hob Gadling, Hob Gadling Needs A Hug, Misunderstandings

Summery: After their fight in 1889 Hob falls in with a bad crowd thanks to a boy that reminds him of Robyn. He tries to stop his descent into crime not wanting to be reduced to being nothing more than a murderer again. But eh fails. Compared to all the live he ends helping to guard a basement is tame. If only Corinthian, the right hand man of his employer, would stop flirting with him despite being turned down multiple times already.

Chapter 1 under the cut. Will repost the next chapters as reblog because of word limit.

~1889~

“You knew Lady Johanna. You know, Lushing Lou. You know everyone, don't you?” Hob asked in wonder. He may not know who or rather what his stranger was, but he could never help but be amazed by everything he could do. Sometimes when he laid awake, unable to catch sleep, he came up with the wildest theories about the man. He imagines him being a vampire, a fae, and even considered an old god from Greece. But he would never know, as his stranger never revealed anything about himself, not even his name.

It felt unfair in a way. Him knowing everything about Hob, while Hob got nothing. It had crossed his mind to be petty, to keep things to himself, go against their deal in a way. But Hob couldn’t stop himself from telling the man whatever he could when they saw each other, eager to be able to share.

“I saw her again, you know.”

“Who? Lady Johanna?” Worry flared up. He knew his stranger was fine, sitting across the table from him. He also knew the man was strong enough to protect himself. But he couldn’t help wanting to be there, to protect, to keep his stranger safe, even at the cost of his own freedom.

“She undertook a task for me and succeeded admirably, I might add.”

Jealousy, burning hot, filling his veins. He tried to tamper it down, to net let it get to him, but he couldn’t help himself. All the time he had wanted nothing more than to get close to his stranger, to prove his worth, and now he had offered that chance to someone else. He had chosen someone who had hunted them down and tried to do harm instead of someone he shared centuries of friendship with.

It hurt.

Although, could he hold it against his stranger? The man knew Hob for so long, knew what he has done, knew all his failures during his long life. So it was no wonder he didn’t trust Hob enough to ask him for a favor. His voice was filled with self-loathing as he spoke. “That might be the only thing I've learned after 500 years. People are almost always better than you think they are. Not me, though. Still the same as ever.”

“I think perhaps you've changed.” Hob’s heart started beating faster at the other’s words. Did he really think so? Hob wished it was true. He wants to change, to be good, worthy of his stranger.

“Well, I may have learned a bit from my mistakes. But, uh… doesn't seem to stop me from making them. I think it's you that's changed.”

“How so?”

Hob should shut up now and be content with what he had, seeing the man he had fallen for every hundred years. He should not press the issue, no matter how desperate he was to be acknowledged by the other. But Hob had never been smart when it came to things he desired.

“I think I know why we still meet here, century after century. It's not because you want to see whether or not I'm ready to seek death. I don't think I'll ever seek death. By now, you know that about me. So, I think you're here for something else.”

“And what might that be?” His stranger looked curious at that. Hob liked the look as it meant he had done something to surprise the man.

“Friendship. I think you're lonely.” And in true Hob fashion, he managed to put his foot in his mouth. He knew the moment he had spoken, he had made a mistake. It was the truth, but the wording was just unfortunate and way too blunt. And not at all how he had planned to breach the topic.

“You dare…”

“No, look, I'm not saying–,” Hob tried to backpedal, but it was too late. “You… dare suggest one such as I might need your companionship.”

“Yes. Yes, I do.”

Maybe despite Hob’s foolish approach, there was a chance all of this still had a good outcome, and they would get closer. “Then I shall take my leave of you and prove you wrong.” Or maybe not. Hob sprang up from his chair and chased after his stranger as the man strode out of the tavern. The man couldn’t do this. If he wanted or not, they were friends. You didn’t just storm off and leave your friends behind.

“I'll tell you what, I'll be here in 100 years' time. If you're here then, too, it'll be because we're friends. No other reason, right?” He was met by silence as his stranger didn’t seem fit to answer and just disappeared.

“Fսck.”

~1897~

He was pissed, absolutely livid. Who did he think he was? He had no right to speak to Hob like this, no matter how powerful he was. That was not how things worked. You couldn’t be an asshole like that and expect people to stick around. Hob didn’t need him. They saw each other only every hundredth years, and even then the stranger often didn’t have time for Hob and fucked off with someone else. So what if Shakespeare was famous now? Hob would still have been better company back then. No, he didn’t need the man. He would make new friends. Better ones.

~1936~

Okay, so maybe mistakes had been made and Hob should have chosen his words more carefully. That was on him. His stranger still shouldn’t have exploded like this and should rather have tried to talk things out like a grown up, but still – Hob hadn’t been entirely blameless in the situation.

When they saw each other the next time he would have to apologize and maybe then they could laugh together about the stupid fight. Or well, Hob had never seen his stranger laugh, couldn’t even imagine it. He would settle for a smirk then.

~1983~

Anxiety was settled deep in his chest. What if his stranger proved him wrong. What if he didn’t show, determined to not give in. Hob had no way of finding him. He didn’t even know who he was looking for. What would Hob even do? Nothing besides showing up in the White Horse every hundred years and praying at some point his stranger would forgive him and come for him.

Once more, he felt powerless in their relationship. It was the whole reason why he had even started the fight, wanting to know more, anything about his stranger. He didn’t want to be on equal footing, knowing it would never be, but he wanted something that was his. He didn’t want to be just another amusement the man had, but to mean at least something to the other.

Tears sprung to his eyes as he hit his desk in frustration. It was unfair. The stranger meant too much to him, was such a big part of his life, and Hob didn’t even know if he was the only immortal he kept. Maybe Shakespeare was out there under a new name, living his best life and meeting his stranger more often than every hundredth years. And there was nothing Hob could do about it, no way for him to even find out.

Knowing he wouldn’t be able to concentrate on any more work, he gathered his documents and put them in a briefcase before leaving the empty office and making his way through the dark street. They were in the progress of having the gas street-lamps replaced by electrical once, but it was slow progress. And during it many streets stayed dark, since repairing gaslights when they were about to be replaced was a waste of resources according to the major. Hob didn’t care too much, he didn’t fear the dark.

He should have.

A dark figure stepped in front of him, barely noticeable in the moonlight. Turning around to run, he saw another figure blocking the other exit of the street and walking towards Hob. A flash of metal in the dark, a weapon. Hob swallowed, not because he was scared, he had survived much worse, but because it spelled trouble, and he couldn’t risk anyone finding out he was immortal. Not with times changing and hiding who he was becoming more and more difficult.

“Your money or your life,” Hob had to suppress a snort at the nasal voice. Ah, criminals, always the same no matter how many centuries passed. He remembered the time well, when he was in the other's position, stopping the carriages of rich folks and demanding the valuables. He had used the exact same words. Although, he guessed there was no much need for flair when it came to such simple matters.

“Alright, I will give you what I have. Please don’t hurt me,” Hob held up his hands, talking calm and trying not to provoke them. He couldn’t die, sure, but being stabbed hurt like a freaking bitch. Hob would rather part with some cash he had on hand and his watch. Nothing holding real value to him, and easy enough to replace.

So very slowly and telegraphing his movement clearly, he reached inside his coat and pulled out his wallet, holding it out until it was snatched from his fingers. Next was his watch that got the same treatment. And still Hob was well-behaved, not struggling, calm and cooperating. He gave no reason for the situation to escalate, giving his robbers all chances to just leave now with their loot.

Which was why Hob was so surprised when pain exploded at the side of his head. He stumbled, his knee hitting the pavement, his palm getting scratched as he caught himself. Blinking, he tried to lift the haze from his thoughts as he looked up at the two shapes hovering above him.

It was only instincts, honed through centuries with conflicts, that saved him, his head ducking automatically as he heard the swish of metal through the air. But just because the knife didn't slash his face didn't mean he was safe, as he was not as fortunate in avoiding the kick to his side. He cried out as pain exploded in his ribs. Every fiber of his being wanted him to curl up and protect his soft belly, but he forced down this instinct with gritted teeth.

No, if you wanted to survive, you had to fight with everything you got. Using the momentum of the kick, he stumbled back to his feet, and got some distance between himself and the attackers. Despite the throbbing in his head, he now could see them more clearly, that was not the face of someone just messing around. No, they wore big smiles, and were enjoying his pain. They wouldn't stop. At least not on their own.

One of them, heavy dark coat, spindly frame, soon ran towards Hob, knife in hand. Amateur movements. Hob stepped forward, getting close, deflected the blade by smacking the other's arm. His knee meets the other's stomach, sending him down. Before he could make sure he stayed down the other man, this one smaller but wider, jumped on him, and they tumbled to the ground.

That was fine. Hob knew how to wrestle and had the other in a chokehold in seconds. Still two against one, but he kicked out the legs of the man running towards him to tear him off his friend.

The body was suddenly in free-fall, arms whirling trying to get back balance.

Then a sickening crunch and Hob froze.

He had heard it often during his lifetime. He had sworn he would no longer be the cause of it.

Looking over, he didn't need to see the neck bend in an awkward position to know the man was gone.

Hob had killed him. He hadn't meant to, it had been an accident. But he had killed someone.

After all the lifetime he had lead and all the killing and dying he had done, he had wanted to be done with it. He just wanted to live in peace and do let others do the same. But now he had ripped someone else out of their life. How could he live with himself knowing what he had just done.

“Chris,” the man, Hob was still entangled on the ground with, cried out and struggled to free himself. Hob helped him as best as he could now that he was no longer in danger of being attacked.

Getting up himself, he saw the man kneeling next to the body crying, shaking it and begging for Chris to open his eyes. The man didn’t. They never did. Once someone was gone, there was nothing you can do, no matter how you cried out to your stranger to spare them.

Suddenly the man got up, swinging at Hob, but in his grief it had become uncoordinated and Hob easily stopped the punch.

“You murderer! You killed him!”

He hadn’t meant to. And it wouldn’t have happened if they hadn’t attacked him. But pointing that out wouldn’t help, as the man would not listen to reason. He wanted someone to be angry at, to blame, to lessen his own guilt. And Hob was the perfect target. Hob stopped the other punch and just held on as the man cried. It was the least Hob could do.

There was the sound of footsteps in the distance, spooking the man, and he ripped himself free and started stumbling away. Hob didn’t stop him, just sitting down on the ground next to the cooling body and waited. He should probably call the police, but he couldn’t bring himself to move, so he just waited. How long he didn’t know, but at some point steps came closer and when he looked up Hob could see men in uniform entering the alley. The police has arrived.

Hob didn’t resist when he was dragged up and cold iron snapped around his wrist. Neither when he was pulled away. Everything was a blur. He didn’t remember how they made it to the station, just that he found himself in a chair, an officer sitting on the other side of the desk staring him down.

He was asked questions he can’t answer, the full name of the victim, their relationship and most of all why he did it. All Hob can say is, it was an accident, I didn’t mean to, they attacked me first, I just tried to defend myself, then he fell. Over and over, he repeats it like a mantra. Something to hang on when everyone wants to make him believe he did it on purpose. When their words make him question himself.

I didn’t mean to. It was an accident. I was just defending myself.

He didn’t know how much time has passed, there was no clock in the room nor window. His voice was rough and black spots dance on the edge of his vision, they hadn’t bothered giving him a glass of water. The blood in his hair from the first swing he took was dry and flaking off every time he shakes his head in denial. His ribs throb with every breath.

He was about to just nod, accept whatever they said if it meant he will be thrown into a cell where he could lay down and close his eyes. It would ruin his life, but wouldn’t that be right after what he had done? A few years of suffering was the least he deserved. Especially since he unlike others had the option to start anew after faking his death.

His downward spiral was stopped by a man bargain in, under loud protests of some officers. The man’s briefcase hit the desk hard, and Hob flinched back at the loud noise.

“Don’t say anything,” sharp blue eyes drilled into Hob’s making him cower at the imposing figure in front of him. The man commanded respect, not because of the nice suit he was wearing or the expensive jewelry or because he was even taller than Hob, but in the way he held himself, his presence filling the whole room.

So Hob shut his mouth. It was not like anyone was really listening to what he had to say anyway. And not speaking would be good for the scratching in his throat. His fate now would be decided if the new person was a friend or someone wanting to drag him down. Hob didn’t have the strength to fight anymore.

“You,” the man whirled on the officer, making him duck on instinct, only to puff up and try to make himself more imposing when he noticed. “Tell me how it comes that you had him in here for 8 hours and couldn’t even be bothered to give him a glass of water nor give him medical attention? Where are we? At the witch trials,” Hob flinched hard at the words, remembering the trials only too well. Back then he had broken as well, admitting to anything as long as it meant the pain would end.

To his surprise, the stranger pushed his briefcase further on the desk, blocking Hob’s slumped form from view and gave him at least a bit of privacy as he fought with his demons.

“He killed a man! What do you expect? A fluffed up pillow and a three-course meal?”

“Human decency!” The officer was now absolutely cowering under the pressure, despite his best efforts. “Or are you that desperate you couldn’t take the 10 minutes to have him checked over? Maybe because you know you don’t have a case?”

“Bullshit! I know you love to put your nose where it doesn’t belong, Mr. Henderson. He killed the guy. We found him next to the corpse, and he admitted it was him who made the deceased fall.”

“And wasn’t he also quite persistence that the deceased and another man were the once attacking him, and he was just defending himself? Or are you just going to ignore that? So I suggest instead of harassing the victim, you should rather be out there looking for the second attacker.”

And the officer, despite his complaints and grumbling, got up and left the room. There was no way to know if he was really searching for the other attacker, and if there was even a chance to find the man with how little information Hob had been able to give, but getting a breather was enough for Hob.

His head laid on the desk, the cold helping against his headache, and he just rested his eyes for a moment. He heard movement but ignored Mr. Henderson for now. Or at least he tried to, but the man kneeled down next to Hob’s chair and his hand laid on Hob’s knee.

Blinking his eyes back open was an effort, but Hob managed and looked down at the concerned eyes looking up at him.

“Mr. Gadling, I wish could say it will be alright, but your situation doesn’t look good. But rest assured, I will do anything in my power to get you out of this.”

“I don’t think I have the money to pay your commission,” Hob was not poor. But the last years after he had fought with his friend, he had let himself go. Gambling, and throwing money at unnecessary luxuries just because he could. When he had pulled his head out of his ass, he had already spent most of his fortune and was now living like the middle class. Not bad, but not enough to pay a man wearing jewelry that could feed a family for at least a year.

“Don’t worry about money. Just focus on getting through this.”

Hob snorted, so either once he was out the man would make demands to be paid back another way, forcing Hob into his servitude, or he was just plain stupid. Saying that straight to the man’s face was not the best idea, but the man just laughed.

“Personally, I see myself as someone just trying to do the right thing, reforming the misdeeds in the justice system.”

So, delusional. But Hob could work with that. And having a delusional lawyer was better than not having one at all, so accepting the help would be best.

“The biggest problem is all we have to confirm your story is your word. Even if the police showed an ounce of competence and finds the other robber, he will tell his own story.” Hob knew all that. He didn’t know why the other even bothered, since there was no way he would get out of here. Not with everyone in the station being hellbent on making sure he went to prison. But at least he got to go to a holding cell for now and take a nap until Mr. Henderson would return the next day.

And return he did with a big smile on his face. The police had not found the other robber, but they had found a woman hanging around the alleyway, and with a bit of pressure she had admitted to seeing the whole thing backing up Hob’s story. The officers complained and tried to poke holes in his defense, but in the end they had no other option but to accept that his actions had been to defend his own life.

Things dragged on, Hob being pushed from one cell to the other as people discussed his fate. Mr. Henderson, please call me Edward, was there every step of the way and the only reason why Hob didn’t fell apart.

Still, Hob couldn’t believe it when the judge finally spoke the words not guilty, and he was stepping into the sun. Till the last moment he had waited for the second shoe to drop, for someone to jump out and present new evidence sending him to jail.

Turning to Edward standing beside him, smiling brightly, he couldn’t help himself, but pulling the man into his arms and thanking him under tears. The man had been there for him, like a true friend, and if he ever needed it, Hob would be there for him in return.

He had lost his stranger, but he was not alone. There were good people out there, just waiting for him. All Hobs had to do was open his heart and accept them.

With this being over, Hob could move on with his life. Things finally looked up. Or they did until he found out he had no longer a job because of his long absence and his old boss was unwilling to hire a killer despite Hob being proclaimed not guilty. Hob didn’t understand it, but he was unwilling to start a fight. He could find someplace else. Only words of his case had spread through the whole city, and no one was willing to hire him. And without a job there was no money which meant he would be unable to pay his upcoming rent.

But nothing he tried worked. The only positions willing to hire him wouldn’t even make a dent in his rent, even if he had three jobs. And with the housing shortage, there was no place else he could live that would be cheaper. He could move, somewhere no one knew him. But he couldn’t bring himself to leave London. This was his home, where his only friend lived. And he had to be here in a few years to be at the White Horse in case his stranger returned.

He could ask Edward for help, but he didn’t want it to seem he was just after the other's money. Especially with Edwards business taking a major hit after a person he was defending was proven guilty. Hob tried to help as best as he could behind closed doors but knew he couldn’t do more since it wouldn’t look good on Edward if he was seen with Hob.

It was a major point of friction. Edward didn’t care about his reputation and had no trouble inviting Hob out for dinner or even hiring him. But Hob refusing frustrated him, especially when Hob even declined his money, despite Edward knowing how much Hob was struggling. He just wanted to support his best friend and being unable to do so and just having to watch how he made himself smaller and smaller, shrinking under all negative attention focused on him angered him.

Their love for each other made them want the best for each other. And it tore their friendship apart. They were unable to spend time together without a disagreement, and then their friendship ended in a big fight.

And it was Hob fault. He always said the wrong thing, turning away the people he cared about. First his stranger now Edward. Maybe he was meant to be alone.

But the world didn’t stop for his emotional turmoil. The rent needed to be paid, now especially since there was no longer a friend who would have a place on their sofa for Hob to sleep on. And Hob really needed to keep a roof over his head.

He was terrified of ending back on the street. He did it once, and it was the worst time of his life. Just a nightmare of pain, suffering, anger, blood, and a desperate fight for survival. He knew getting back up once you were so far down was almost impossible. He couldn’t let it get this far. Not if there was something he could do. Even if it means he had to let go of his pride.

The first time wasn’t planed. Was just walking, trying to clear his head and finding a way out. The window was open, everything else dark, and no car in the driveway. He knew it was wrong, he should be better than this.

He climbed the fence and slipped through the window, heart beating fast as he listened for any sign of life inside the house. Nothing. Sneaking around, he grabbed anything of value.

Ten minutes later he was out, pockets heavy, and on his way to the pawnshop. It was not enough to pay the rent but enough to satisfy his landlord getting another week before he would be kicked out.

It made him think about how easy it had been. And how little effort had taken to get the money. And it was not as if he hadn’t tried other options. It was them, society, not giving him a choice. If they had just given him a job, he wouldn’t be in this position. It was their fault, not his.

And it was not as if he had hurt anyone. A few valuables were gone. And? They could replace it, their house had been nice enough they could afford a small loss like that.

Yes. It was the least all of them deserved for letting him down like this. He would just take what he needed to survive. And it was only temporary until he was back on his feet. They all thought he was a murderer, a bit of stealing was nothing in comparison.

It became a routine, going on nightly strolls and returning with his pocket full. He was good at it. Always knew when someone was home or not, avoided being seen when he made his way inside, and didn’t spend a second longer inside than he had to.

No one had to know what Hob did. Well except, the pawnshop owner, but he didn’t say anything and just gave Hob a price much under the actual value of the items. Hob was fine with that. Paying hush money was better than being ratted out to the police. Especially since the police so far had no idea he even existed. There was always breaking and entering, and he chose his targets so far apart there was no connection. The cops had better things to do than chasing a criminal that didn’t cause real harm. And Hob liked things that way. He had managed to avoid prison once, he didn’t want to risk it, especially since this time there would be no Edward bailing him out.

His rent was paid, he had food in his belly and a new coat. Life was good. Or it should be. There was still the guilt nagging at him that all of this wasn’t his. That he had stolen it and it was wrong. But with every failed attempt to find another source of income, he fell deeper into his ways. It was just too easy. Until weeks passed by without him searching for a legitimate job.

~1989~

He started hating the man he was becoming. Or rather, he was returning to. He had thought he had become better, had changed. But now he was back at square one. Just a lowlife surviving by harming others. He didn’t want to be like this.

But there was still hope. One last chance to turn things around. Hob may not have the best moral compass – if he had any at all- but his stranger always knew right from wrong. Even before society or law. It had taken him to tell Hob for Hob to realize slavery was wrong. Today it was unthinkable, but back then it has just been how things were. And even then his stranger had known it was wrong. Hob just had to tell him, and his stranger would set him right and correct Hob’s course for the next 100 years.

Yes, all Hob had to do was meet his friend and things would be okay. So he drove to the White Horse in a car he had stolen, full of excitement in the prospect of the weight leaving his chest. He would do better, become good. To get his stranger approval.

But the longer he sat there, alone, the worse he felt. It looked like this was his stranger's answer. They were never and never would be friends. Hob was alone, on his own. There was no one who cared. No one who had any expectations, everyone had given up on him. Why should he even try? If there was no one to judge him, why not make things easy for himself?

Things escalate from there, as there is nothing holding Hob back. So what if the houses he breaks into now are not from some rich fucks but middle class as well? They had shunned him just as well. And their security was a lot laxer. Also, less to steal, but it was enough. And then there was someone home, but the house was way too good to pass up on. But it was okay, he would just be quiet.

A good plan if not for the man of the house stepping out of his bed to get a glass of water just as Hob was clearing out their silver drawer. They looked at each other frozen, and Hob was glad for the hat and the scarf hiding most of his face.

Before the other could too much than let out a shocked shout, Hob had jumped over the counter and tackled him to the ground, choking him until he lost conscious. When the wife appeared in the doorway, he was prepared, knocking her unconscious.

He used things found around the house to bind them to two chairs and gag them, before taking his time emptying their whole house. They would call the police anyway, Hob could at least make it worth it. And worth it, it was. He left the pawnshop with a big bundle of cash.

And if he spotted some rich folks taking a shortcut through a dark allay, well then it was their own fault, since they had begged for it. You couldn’t blame Hob for standing there with a knife demanding their valuables in a sick play on the situation that had started this whole thing. But other than his attackers back then, he was just after the money. Once he had what he wanted, he let his victims go unharmed.

He didn’t kill. That was a line he would never cross again. And if he had to attack someone or render them unconscious, he did it with causing as little harm as possible. It was something which baffled the police and press alike, as they couldn’t decide if he was a monster or a gentleman thief. It was kinda amusing reading about people losing their mind trying to figure him out. Especially since it was that easy. He was just someone no longer following societies rules and just living by his own codex, doing whatever he pleased.

Even if this codex was completely screwed. Like right now, still blood on his knuckles from having to knock someone out who resisted, but being offended by a bunch of teens ganging up on a gangly little thing. It just strokes him wrong, seeing something like this.

But it is not his problem. There is no need to get involved.

Or at least it wasn’t until the boy rose his head and looked straight at Hob. Dark brown eyes, with hair of the same color. But that was not what stopped Hob in his tracks. He looked just like Robyn. Well, not exactly, it was more the vibes he was giving up. But Hob couldn’t stop seeing his son laying there on the ground beaten and bloody, his tormentors surrounding him.

He moved before he really thought about it.

His fist connected with the nose of the guy to the left. The bone crunched under the impact and the guy stumbled back, shouting in pain. That got the attention of the rest of his group, who instantly stepped in to avenge their friend. With no option to back out of this anymore, Hob just went with the flow and beat everyone getting into punching distance. They had the numbers, but they were untrained and rather stood in each other's way than taken advantage and overpowering Hob. Which leads to Hob standing between fallen bodies, breathing heavy and blood on his shirt but mostly unharmed beside a few bruises.

Walking over to the fallen boy, he saw him flinch. Hob hadn’t meant to scare him, although the display of violence must have been frightening. But he didn’t feel comfortable leaving him sitting on the ground with unknown injuries, especially since his attackers would get up soon.

He wanted to gain the boy's trust, but Hob had forgotten how to be comforting and soft. Hadn’t had need for it in years. Even for Edward, he had not managed to bring back that part of himself. Which was just as well because Edward liked his brash and direct way.

But now he tried, crouching down, holding out his hands and speaking softly. “It's okay. I took care of them,” well, he tried. He failed miserably, sounding more threatening than reassuring, but he had tried. How had he managed to deal with Robyn without frightening the child? He couldn’t remember. And wasn’t that sad? Not remembering this everyday life with his son, only holding some special memories close to his heart while the rest faded?

Knowing that his presence would only distress the boy more, he got up and turned to leave. He would just call the police to check things out, once he was far enough away. Only there was a tug on his pant leg and turning he saw the boy grasping the fabric with shaking fingers. The big teary eyes looking up at Hob broke his heart, and he couldn’t stop himself from leaning down again and pulling the boy into his arms. Crying and wailing filled the alley, but the boy clung to Hob desperately.

Carrying him into his arm and towards Hob’s apartment, reminded Hob of the times Robyn had been unable to sleep and Hob had walked through the whole house with the child in his arm to keep him calm, while Elenore watched them with a smile. He had forgotten it until his actions pulled the memory back up.

Entering his building, he sat the boy on his sofa and retrieved his extensive med-kit. Being unable to die meant treating injuries yourself that would bring up questions, going to the hospital. He didn’t need much of it to treat the boy. The injuries had looked worse than they actually were. A bloody nose, bruising, scratched hands and knees, a gash close to his hairline that luckily didn’t need stitches, and a cracked wrist.

Once the task was done, Hob looked at the boy awkwardly, not knowing what to do.

“You want tea?” You could never go wrong with tea. The boy nodded and Hob set to work, returning with two mugs of tea.

“Thank you,” the voice was shy and soft. But at least the shaking had stopped as the kid started to relax.

“Don’t worry about it,” Hob meant it. Neither the tea nor stepping in had been much trouble, and Hob had done it for his own piece of mind. There was no need t thank him.

Hob swirled the tea in his mug, not knowing what to say. Should he give the kid money for a taxi? Take him home? Offer him the sofa for tonight? Hob didn’t know.

Luckily for him, the boy was not as incapable of social interaction as he was.

“My name is Georgie Baldwin. What about you.”

“Hob,” he didn’t give a last name. The less the boy knew, the better it was for him with the life Hob lived.

“Thank you for saving me, Hob,” the boy put down his empty mug, hugged Hob and then left the apartment before Hob could compose himself. He looked at the closed door not understanding what exactly had happened, but then he just shrugged. Another weird day in his weird life. No need to think deeper about it. It was not as if hew would see the boy ever again.

After cleaning up the medical equipment, he laid in bed, unable to sleep.

The encounter had brought up memories of a happier time. It made him realize just how lonely he felt. There was a gnawing emptiness in his chest, where his heart once was. He wanted someone to be there for him, to greet him when he got home, to care if he made it home. He didn’t want t be alone anymore. But every time he tried he messed up and ended up back alone. It was better to not try, and be disappointed rather than to suffer.

But knowing that didn’t fill the emptiness in his chest and no matter how much he tried he didn’t find any rest. Which left him cranky and short temperate when he stomped to the door, mug with extra strong coffee in hand, to tell whoever was on the other side to fuck off. Throwing the door open, he came face to face with the kid from yesterday.

The door banged close, as Hob didn’t have the patience to deal with whatever bullshit this was. Instead, he took a big swing of his coffee, cursed as it burned his tongue, and debated if a nice fluffy omelet was worth the effort of actually making it.

His doorbell chimed again.

Hadn’t he been clear enough in his dismissal? But no, when he opened the door, the boy was still standing there smiling at him. What a prick. But not stupid, as he held out a bag that smelled heavenly of backed goods as bribery.

With his stomach grumbling, Hob admitted defeat and took the bag, leaving the door open as he stepped inside. The boy had already been here, it wouldn’t do any harm to let him in. But Hob was not in the mood to play good host right now and didn’t offer any tea or coffee. Ripping open the bag, he found muffins and chocolate croissants. All things considered, it was a good bribe.

Humming happily, he dug in as the boy sat down watching him carefully.

“So what so you want kid?”

“It’s Georgie,” the way the kid pouted was kinda cute. He must have old ladies want to feed him all over town. “I want you to teach me how to fight.” Hob choked on the bit of croissant. He couldn’t say if it was his immortality or Georgie slapping his back that prevented him from entering the sunless lands. Whipping tears out of his eyes, he looked at the kid as if he had lost his mind.

“Are you completely crazy? Why would you ask me?”

“The way you fought was amazing. Please, I want to be able to do it too.”

“Hard pass. Why the heck should I teach a brat?”

“I can pay you,” the kid dove for his pocket and placed a stack of bills on the table. It was no small amount. So, a rich brat. Well, it was not as Hob really needed money with how well his business was going. And he would rather not involve the kid by accident. If he went down for his actions it was one thing but dragging a kid down with him was completely different. And if he gave in now, he just knew the kid would one day rob houses side by side with him.

“Pass. Go home kid. You are young and have a bright life ahead of you. There is no need to get involved with the likes of me.”

“But what if they come back?! I need to be able to defend myself,” Hob just groaned as this was just playing unfair. Especially since it was a fair point. The bullies had found him once, and there was no guarantee they wouldn’t do worse when Hob was not close by to step in. It was just unfair. Hob was not responsible for the kid, could barely remember his name. But he had made it his responsibility when he stepped in. The least he could do was see things through now.

“Okay fine. I will teach you self-defense. Nothing more. And you will stay out of my business.”

“Deal,” the kid smiled brightly as he held out his hand for Hob to shake. Knowing that one day he would regret this Hob took the offered hand.

#dreamling #dream of the endless #hob gadling #dream x hob #centennialhusbandsbigbang

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jellyfishloveletterghosts · 2 months

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Make sure to check out this beautiful art by @raven-cl and show it some love.

Dandelion Wishes - Chapter 15 of 15- Grow

Billy is not sure when it starts. Somehow carrying the little pot around with him just naturally morphs into talking to it like Steve is here and can hear him. He tells Steve about his day, things he has read, looking for a job, all of the mundane little things he can think of.

On the rare occasions he does not have Steve right in his hands, Franklin will sometimes say something to the plant in private, begging for his son to return. Annette doesn't care if Billy is holding him, she will lean down face level with the slowly growing sprout and tell him things. There are a lot of “I love you” and “I miss you” and the occasional desperate plea of “please come back my little dandelion” that make Billy’s chest ache.

Billy begs too, just at night when everyone else is asleep and the moon is the only thing letting him see the sprout. Tears rolling down his face as he kneels in front of the night stand, cheek pressed against it as he stares longingly. “Please come back to me. I’m sorry I pushed you away before. I just wanted you to be safe. I need you back, you’re supposed to stay with me forever, remember. You promised.”

Billy has not missed anyone like this since his mother, and that thought just makes the tears come harder.

Read on Ao3

Please consider reblogging so it doenst just sit here collecting dust.

#harringrove #jellyghostfic #harringrove bigbang #fanfiction #st fic #Billy Hargrove x Steve Harrington

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emeraldelysian · 2 years

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Ateez ✧ Their S/O Has Anxiety

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Genre: Angst, Fluff

Synopsis: How the Ateez members would react to their s/o having anxiety

Wordcount: 2.4K+

Warnings: Mentions of anxiety of all kinds

Note: Considering I have really bad social anxiety, I wanted to write about some of my personal experiences while tying them to helpful ways of calming down in case anyone else has been in a similar situation! Also, this is not meant to represent how everyone experiences anxiety as we all don't go through it in the same way.

♡︎ follow, provide feedback, or reblog if you enjoyed but please don't repost or translate!♡︎

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.·:*¨༺ Kim Hongjoong ༻¨*:·.

Color/Paint By Number Books

Being the leader of his group, Hongjoong had learned to be very observant of the people around him. That's why he knew something was off the moment he saw you. It wasn't obvious, no. You had a more subtle way of showing your distress, but Hongjoong had learned to pick it up. You were zoning out a bit more than usual, responses only varying between yes and no, with the occasional small nervous laughs.

He wouldn't try to push you into talking much about how you were feeling, instead opting to indirectly help you. He made sure to work from home that day, letting the others know that he couldn't make it into the studio. He made sure to order lunch for the two of you just in case you weren't comfortable with talking to too many new people.

Only when you flinched at the sound of his laptop closing did he realize how tight of a grip your anxiety had on you. It wasn't a big jump, but it was enough for him to know that your thoughts were spiraling more than the usual anxious thoughts. So, instead of continuing his work for the day, he pulled out some of his art supplies and a few paint-by-number sheets. The newest project for you two was a rainy day in Paris. He gently coaxed you to join him, and you both sat down and started painting.

He couldn't help but be mesmerized by the fluid movements of your hand as you carefully painted each section. With every stroke of your brush, he could see the worries melt away, even if just for a moment.

.·:*¨༺ Park Seonghwa ༻¨*:·.

Play Calming Music

'I need somebody who can love me at my worst.'

You both were on a walk when your thoughts began to spiral, somehow coming to the conclusion that Seonghwa may be finding you incredibly annoying for having you spend time with him rather than letting him relax on his day off. Of course, that wasn't true. You were a relaxing space for him and he loved spending time with you whenever he could. But you couldn't help but feel burdensome, like everything you were doing was bothering him and that he didn't want to tell you and hurt your feelings.

'No, I'm not perfect, but I hope you see my worth.'

It didn't take long for Seonghwa to realize you were lagging behind him as the walk continued, moving at a slower pace than when you started. So, when you both got to the nearest bench, he stopped and urged you both to sit down. It was only then that he properly saw your teary eyes, which had been looking down at the ground for most of the walk. His heart dropped at the sight, and it took him no time to take out his phone and headphones. He offers you one of the earbuds before putting the other one into his own ear and pressing play.

'Cause, it's only you, nobody new, I put you first.'

Seonghwa hummed along to the song, one earbud in his right ear. He looked over at you softly bobbing your head along to the music playing on your left. He had made a playlist for moments like these, where words couldn't be found to describe feelings. He brushes the hair out of your face before mouthing the next line as if he had written it just for you.

'And for you, I swear I'll do the worst.'

.·:*¨༺ Jeong Yunho ༻¨*:·.

4-7-8 Breathing Technique

Yunho called out your name as he walked through the door, tired from the long day behind him. He decided to not call out a second time when he didn't hear your response, believing that maybe you went to sleep. He didn't mind you not staying up for him; in fact, he'd encourage it because sometimes he'd stay for hours practicing and he wanted to make sure you took care of yourself. Oftentimes, you didn't listen, however, instead choosing to stay up and wait for him.

He'd be lying if he said it didn't worry him when he didn't find you in your shared bedroom. He called your name out once again, looking around the house before realizing the light to the bathroom was on and the door was slightly ajar, just enough for light to peek through. He gave a soft knock on the door, before opening it. He stopped when he saw you curled up on the floor, back leaning against the cabinets, with your head on your knees.

He immediately dived down to the floor in front of you, wrapping his entire body around your frame as a protective shield. He tried to ask what was wrong but in response, he could only hear your shaky, choked-up breaths. He quickly interpreted the situation and realized he needed to help you get your breathing under control.

He talked you through a breathing exercise you both had done before, doing it along with you. You both inhaled through your nose until the count of four, indicated through his soft, rhythmic tapping on your back with his hand. You both then held it for seven more taps and exhaled for eight. You both repeated this process until you could finally feel enough air reaching your lungs and you calming down.

.·:*¨༺ Kang Yeosang ༻¨*:·.

Butterfly Hug

Yeosang woke up at the feeling of you sitting upright on the bed. You had just woken up from a terrifying nightmare, your hands shaking at the memory of it. Still disoriented from the sudden wake, it took him a few moments before he realized your shaken-up state. The moment he did, he moved slowly to sit upright in order to not startle you. He quietly calls out to you, thinking he could bring you back to the safety of his arms.

Instead, your shaking worsened at the thoughts of you waking him up. His heart shattered as your voice wavered in calling out his name before breaking down into endless apologies for waking him up and disturbing him. He shook his head and pulled you onto his lap to calm your thoughts before whispering small assurances into your ears.

Your shaking seemed to calm down a little but not completely and you tightly closed your eyes to try to block out whatever intrusive thoughts were hitting you at that moment. You knew Yeosang was trying to help but for some reason, the little murmurs in your heart just wouldn't go away.

He too realized that you still didn't feel completely fine, so instead, he positioned you with your back leaning against his chest. He crosses your arms over your chest and places each hand on your collarbone. He puts his own hands onto yours and begins lightly tapping them, whispering little nothings about how it was just a dream and that you're safe with him. Your breathing began to slow down as you focused only on his words. You stay like that for a bit, and he doesn't mind. However long it takes, he'll be there with you.

.·:*¨༺ Choi San ༻¨*:·.

Scent Focus

You both had been looking at plushies in a smaller, less populated store in the mall when you had heard your name being called. Turning to expect your lovable boyfriend, your smile dropped when you instead saw a toxic friend you had once had. You felt frozen as they tried to catch up with you, making it seem like you had just been two lost souls, distanced by time. But inside, your mind was racing. You felt genuine fear seeing them, recalling all the times when they'd make you feel as if you didn't matter.

When San came back from the aisle he was checking, he initially was excited at the idea of you finding someone you hadn't talked to in a while. Or at least, that's what he thoughts from hearing the person talk. It wasn't until he saw your face that he realized something was very wrong. That you were paralyzed in this situation. That you weren't simply just catching up with a friend.

He quickly gets you out of the situation, saying that you both were late for something before getting out of the store and entering the nearest gender-neutral bathroom. He holds you against him tightly, wishing nothing more than for your fear to disappear. For you to know that you're okay because he's here right now.

When he realizes you're not snapping out from your state, he pulls a small bottle of your favorite essential oil scent and asks if he can put some on your wrist. When he feels you nod, he puts a drop of the oil onto your wrist. The scent helps you calm down, creating a more welcoming and soothing atmosphere for you as San continues to hold you tight.

.·:*¨༺ Song Mingi ༻¨*:·.

Hold Hand Tightly and Release

There were a lot of people in the studio today and it was putting you on edge. You tried not to focus on it but it felt like everyone was staring at you. Now you were just holding this wrapper waiting for the right moment to throw it out into a trash can that was just on the other side of the room. It's not like anyone was actually staring at you, but with the number of people that there were in the room, it felt like there was absolutely no chance that not a single person looked at what you were doing. Just waiting for you to mess up.

Mingi could tell you were on edge as well, with how you'd glance at the wrapper in your hand and then at the garbage can and then at the people in the room. You had been repeating this cycle for maybe 20 minutes or so, and while he knew that the act might seem so simple to others, it was a difficult decision for you.

He'd been in similar situations before, with anxiety kicking in so high that he didn't want to leave his bed. And yet, here you were, supporting him through dance practice despite the accumulation of bodies in the room. That's why, as soon as he found a break between the practice, he rushed over to you and kneeled down in front of you. He gave you a small smile before jokingly mentioning why the wrapper was getting more attention than he was.

You couldn't help but let out a stifled laugh and mutter a small sorry. He shook his head at your cute apology before taking the wrapper out of your hand and replacing it with his own. You squeezed his hand tightly while he muttered small reassurances to you. Once he realizes he has to get back to training, he moves to stand back up but is stopped by you. He turns back over to look at you, who now had your palm out. He places the wrapper in your hand and watches as you take a deep breath before walking to the other end of the room. You throw out the wrapper and turn to him with a relieved smile. He gives you an even bigger smile in return, throwing two small thumbs-up your way before mouthing a small 'I'm proud of you.'

.·:*¨༺ Jung Wooyoung ༻¨*:·.

Meditation

Seeing your caller ID flash on his phone was always a pleasant surprise for him when he'd be on tour. However, seeing your swollen red eyes that had indicated you crying changed his demeanor entirely from the usual jokester he tends to be. Instead, he immediately asks you what happened and what was wrong, threatening to absolutely murder someone twice if they even looked at you the wrong way.

Despite your constant assurances that nothing was wrong, you couldn't help but start crying again in front of him. It felt childish to admit, but being alone terrified you. And while you wouldn't say that you were clinging onto Wooyoung, lately your anxiety had kicked into overdrive, and the thought of him being on tour didn't help things. You didn't want to tell him though because you knew it wasn't his fault, and that these feelings would pass eventually; they always did.

However, Wooyoung wouldn't quit. Instead, he decided to suggest doing a guided meditation. It was something you both had tried before, and it would allow both of you to calm down from the stresses of your days, even if just for a little while. He had even decided to come up with his own just for you, adding little funny twists and characters. He enjoyed being able to help you with your anxiety, even if to him, it didn't feel like much. But, for you, it meant the world that he'd take the time to just care for you, even if he was tired.

.·:*¨༺ Choi Jongho ༻¨*:·.

5-4-3-2-1 Grounding Technique

"Name five things you can see."

Jongho is always observant of your behavior. Not in a creepy way, or at least he'd hoped so. But he wants to take care of you and make sure that you're okay. So he tries to pay attention to any changes in your behavior. That's why it was so easy for him to realize something was off about you that day. Even though you seemed calm on the outside, you were much more pensive than usual. It was almost as if you had so many stresses that you ended up in a state of calm on the outside.

That didn't stop him from checking up on you though, and the moment he did, he could see your bottom lip quiver. You immediately broke down, pouring out how you felt like there was so much work to do and so little time and you didn't want to disappoint anyone so you just have to get them done. He listened quietly, realizing that you need to rant about how you feel and let out everything you have bottled up. However, he also realizes that your breathing becomes more shallow because of the increasing panic you're feeling.

He always aimed to be your anchor during moments like these and this time was no different. Once he realizes that you're reaching your limit, he immediately moved to hold you tightly. He then asked you what five things you could see in at that moment. Once you responded, he proceeded with asking what four things could you feel. Then he continued with three things you could hear, two things you could smell, and finally, one thing you could taste.

He can feel you calm down with each response, focusing on the things around you in that moment rather than the stresses you had in life. He then helps you find ways to manage the things you're stressing about and offers to help out with anything he can.

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soaps-hoe-141 · 1 year

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Drowning In The Depths

I don't know if you all saw the reblog I made yesterday on here but look at this gorgeous piece of art that @foreverrunningfree made!!!! I love him!

Part 7

Pairing: Captain Price x Male!Reader

WC: 14.9k

Synopsis: My boy getting some clothes, got some op planning, and then the op itself of course

Warnings: Violence and cursing but when is that not present in a COD fic really?

Light streamed in through the open blinds of the window casting the bunkhouse in the early morning sun. The black and brindle furred radiator breathed deep beside you still deep in sleep, a few light snores even coming from his dark muzzle. It was a peaceful sound, one you'd grown used to after years of living your entire life around those animals. The snores put you at ease, lulled you back into a half-sleeping state, your mind still not quite ready for the day to begin. Dreams called to you, the sound of a sleep filled voice that you'd never actually even heard before rattling around in your mind. What you wouldn't give to hear John this early in the morning.

A loud buzz came from across the room rattling your thoughts around in your skull nearly as much as it rattled the table. Who the hell? And then you remembered, your phone was broken, you were on a military base in a bunkhouse with a Lieutenant whose face you'd never even seen. And not to mention the fact you'd interrogated a man the evening before. Must be Laswell calling everyone in for the target package and op briefing. You lifted your head up to peek over Cerberus’, searching for the perpetrating phone and its owner. Another buzz filled the room a few seconds later and you finally saw the masked face turn into the pillow before he reached for the short bedside table and knocked it off to effectively cease the ringing.

Ghost was definitely not a morning person it would seem. At least not when it was someone else doing the waking for him. You couldn't relate, well to be fair you rarely slept especially when it was just you and Cerberus. Your eyes turned down to the big dog you had wrapped your arms around beside you. A thin sheet up to your hip and a quarter way up his long body as well. Cerberus was the only living thing you'd actually admit to loving but you had to admit, sleeping next to him sometimes was near torturous. Sweat slicked your body, casting a musk of you up into the air despite the shower you'd taken last night. Surprisingly you'd actually made it all the way to the bed last night though you'd been sure you were going to come short there a few times. Time to get up now though, he wasn't up soon but the Lieutenant at the other side of the room would be awake at some point and you weren't going to have him waiting on you if you could help it.

Stretching your free arm you heard your shoulder pop, the pain hitting you a moment later as you winced, letting it slowly subside in your mind a few seconds later. You slid your other arm slowly out from underneath the dog’s neck and rolled to your back, taking a few deep breaths. You’d spooned him all night, the Dutchie always enjoyed being the little spoon if there was room for him to be. The moment he felt you sitting up though his snores went quiet and he was wide awake. Tail thumping hard against your thigh as his big head lifted. You watched him slide off the bed and circle once on the floor before he shook his fur out, tongue lolling as he panted, ready for the day. Chocolate eyes found you then as you stretched your still aching muscles, glancing down at the unbandaged wounds to make sure they still looked relatively normal. You should probably go see Soap before this mission started, the last thing you needed was for these to get infected because you were too busy getting your ass eaten in the Captain's office.

The thought made your cheeks warm, body reacting to the mere memory of him kneeling between your thighs. Even as you shifted to sit on the edge of the bed, you bit at your bottom lip trying to suppress your body's reaction. When your feet found the ground though Ghost shot up from his place in bed, sitting bolt upright with his fists clenched. His chest was bare and he was taking in deep, heaving breaths as he stared across the room at you. You didn’t move for a few seconds, just staying quiet as he came out of his nightmare and remembered the two of you were bunkmates. No stranger to them yourself you gave him his space, giving him the time he needed. Cerberus crossed to his side of the room, tongue lolling as he sat about a foot away from the now calming Lieutenant. The hazel eyes flicked from your face to the Dutchie and you watched as Ghost relaxed again into the mattress, seeming to center himself as he reached a hand out to pet the patiently waiting dog.

Cerberus stepped closer slowly and you took advantage of the few moments of quietness to stand up, stretching your legs as you did. Tilting your head to pop your neck and stretch your back out as well. A quick glance out the window and you caught sight of John leaving his bunkhouse across the small path, definitely a call from Laswell to get going then. He glanced up at the window and paused on the steps, taking in your nearly naked form. Clothed only in a pair of underwear and framed like a postcard by the window frame. A small smile turned up your mouth as you watched him frozen in place, thoughts running through your mind of the show you could have given him if it wasn’t for Ghost laying down barely ten feet away.

Unwilling to break his gaze from you though, you moved a little closer to the window and leaned on the wood. Your forearm bracing against it as you watched his burning gaze across the way taking in everything he could get his eyes on. Your free hand reached up, scratching against the coarse hair of your growing beard. His hand instinctively mirrored yours, reaching up to run across the brunette hairs of his own. A smile found your face as the fingers ran down your neck, stopping at the dip between your pecs. You flattened your palm against the short hairs on your chest, seeming to scratch absent mindedly at the skin all while the Brit across the way watched. Leaning against the railing on the stairs with what you knew was a smirk on his face. He always had a smirk on his face.

Suddenly his head flicked to the side and his attention was stolen from you much too soon. Your eyebrows furrowed as you watched him continuing down the stairs and then heading off down the path. Leaving the sight of you in the window behind without so much as a second glance. Shit, were you really that bad of a sight this early in the morning? What could he have- Your internal question was cut off by a knock at the door. Eyes from all sides of the room shot to it and you stepped back from the window.

A quick glance Ghost's way told you he had no idea what was going on so it probably wasn't Soap then, or normal. Moving across the room you pulled open the door, staring at a pale blonde nearly as tall as you. He was holding several sets of clothes in his hands as his brows raised questioningly, “Speck I presume?” Well he sounded a bit pretentious with his British accent and perfectly kept appearance. You nodded in answer and he handed the clothes out to you, “Laswell said that these were to go to you.” Taking them slowly you inspected all of them, there were enough fatigues for every day of the week and just as many sets of casual clothes for blending in. She had gone all out it seemed. Not to mention the numerous fresh pairs of underwear, thank God for that because who knew how much longer yours would have lasted.

Setting them down on the table next to the door you gave him a polite smile, “Thanks. Wade yeah? Laswell mentioned you handled all this stuff,” he smiled and gave you a quick nod. You reached a hand out towards him, shaking his hand firmly as he clasped yours. “Nice to meet you, Wade. She said I should talk to you about Cerberus’ food too, you handle all the supplies and stuff for the team?” The man nodded as he held up a finger to stop you from asking anything else, retreating down the steps quickly.

The man grabbed a big bag of food off the ground and hauled it up the stairs towards you, “Is this good? It’s all we have on base right now.” He dropped it into your open arms and you nodded a quick answer, barely able to wrap your one good arm around the huge bag. As you stepped back Cerberus let out a couple loud barks. There was one thing that dog knew for sure and it was what a bag of dog was.

As you set the bag down next to the leg of the table his tail waved excitedly behind him. The Dutchie made his way over to inspect it as you returned your gaze to the blonde still outside the door, “Also I handle laundry for the team. So while you’re here just know I’ll be doing it once a week. Today is laundry day. I know you and the rest of the squad are supposed to be getting called in today though so if you don’t leave anything out don't worry I’ll just grab anything that smells out of your duffel.” You gave a quick nod before he added, “But I'll get a hamper for your bunkhouse before you get back, please use it. I'm not a maid." Well that was amusing considering that was exactly what he sounded like. But no need to cause trouble, you simply gave him another polite nod before he continued, "It’s my job to keep you supplied with anything you need so just let me know whenever you’re running low on something. I'll get it as soon as possible.”

You gave an amused huff and nodded in answer, “Sounds good man. I could actually use a new phone if you can handle that. Oh! And a pack of smokes, are we allowed to smoke on base?” The blonde man nodded and pulled out a notepad from his chest pocket along with a pen and started the list quickly. “And another vest and lead for Cerberus, his spares got ruined,” another quick nod of the blonde head as you tried to think of anything else you might need. “Only other thing I can think of is another pair of shoes, lost mine a couple months ago but other than that-”

A deep, sleep-wrecked voice behind you cut you off before you could even thank the man, “We have to go Speck. Get ready." His chest pressed against your back as he leaned around the door and cast a glare at the blonde outside, "Fuck off Wade.” The masked man shut the door in the man's face and you turned to glance back at Ghost a bit incredulously. The Lieutenant didn’t even bother to look at you though, instead moving back to his side of the room as he grabbed his clothes and started getting dressed, “He’s an idiot. Don’t talk to him,” he grumbled out as he buttoned his pants and started searching his duffel for something.

Your head shook at the statement but you didn’t bother to say anything in opposition. Wade’s problems with the rest of the team weren’t about to become yours as well. Looking through the clothes you’d been given you stripped out of the underwear and pulled on the freshest clothes you’d had in months. The feeling of clean fabric against your skin was heavenly, you had to admit. It had been too long since you'd worn freshly cleaned, brand new clothes. Way too fuckin long.

Ghost waited until you’d both finished making up your bed before getting your attention with a quiet grunt and nodding to the door as he opened it. You threw the other sets of fresh clothes on the bed, leaving the duffel open at the foot of it so Wade could find it when he needed to later today. “Fuss Cerberus,” the Dutchie attached himself to your hip as you hooked his lead to his collar and followed Ghost outside. Even in the early morning hours it was still suffocatingly hot, but it was better than the alternative mid-day hours.

You had to adjust to the longer strides but you quickly fell into step beside him as he led you through the maze of halls. Surprisingly it was back to the same door you’d followed John through the evening before. He punched in a string of numbers and pushed the door open, holding it for a second to make sure you didn’t get locked out as he headed inside. It was a surprisingly kind gesture you hadn’t expected from the mostly mute and faceless man. Huh, maybe he knew that you’d seen him and Soap the other day and didn’t want you blabbering to anyone else about it.

Wasn’t your business to blab either way though and you were more than content to mind your own. Thinking of the loud Scotsman, as you walked in you saw him and Gaz both with fake guitars in hand and standing in front of the couch with their eyes intent on the TV. The dark-skinned Brit was holding a fork in his mouth while his fingers flew across the different colored buttons on the neck of the guitar. Empty plates sat in front of them, Soap’s fork still on his plate as Gaz’s yell was stifled with his lips still wrapped tightly around his own fork.

Meanwhile Watcher was on a handheld device with a microwave breakfast burrito in his freehand. As you walked behind the couch you caught a glimpse of the surprisingly large screen. You caught sight of a little gray cat in a suit with glasses and an eagle in a leather jacket talking to one another as you passed. Eyes following the image for just a moment before it was out of eyeshot.

Konig was sitting back reading quietly with a cup of something in his hand. Something hot by the looks of it and as you passed you recoiled at the strong smell of hot tea. His green eyes flicked up to you and narrowed but not in the same way the Lieutenant’s usually did. You got the impression he was giving you a smile underneath his black half mask. It immediately drew out your own polite smile in response, a reaction you couldn’t stop after years of being trained in the way of Southern politeness.

The sound of a fridge door opening caught your attention though as you turned to find Ghost opening the top door on the other side of the room that you’d failed to notice yesterday. Food sounded perfect right now, might as well get yourself something while you still can. The dark haired Scot’s outburst though broke your focus on the freezer as your eyes shot to the two Sergeant again, “Are ye feckin kiddin me!? How did ye- That’s-” Gaz was holding his fists up in victory with the guitar in one hand and his fork in the other while he stared at the TV.

He pushed Soap hard in the shoulder with a shit eating grin on his face, “Pay up Soap. That was the deal,” Gaz tossed the fork onto his plate sitting on the coffee table in front of them. Soap was glaring hard at the Brit as Gaz held out his hand and shook it with expectation. It was funny, you remembered seeing the same interaction at the bar all those months ago but it was Ghost who was getting paid then.

A stubborn shake of the Scot’s head though made it clear what his position was on the matter, “I amnae givin ye shite ye bastart. It isnae fair,” Watcher snorted from his chair, glancing up from what he was doing for just a second. Long enough to see Soap cross his arms over his chest still holding his guitar in his hand in a white knuckled grip. You swore his face was getting redder by the second.

The Lieutenant shut the door on the microwave and turned around, narrowing his eyes as he leaned back against the counter. But even that couldn’t break your attention away from the unfolding scene in front of you. Gaz dropped his guitar onto the couch, his lip curling up in frustration, “You made the bet, Soap. What are you even talking about?” Soap shook his head and the other Sergeant threw up his hands, “Are you serious, mate? You lost fair and square, Soap!” The pitch of his voice was climbing an octave, his frustration growing by the second. Things were about to get dicey if someone didn’t cut in here in a second.

Finally, you managed to move yourself towards the refrigerator in search of a quick and hot meal for breakfast even as you heard Soap give an answering, “I dinnae ken what yer talking about. Ya cheated ye bawbag,” Gaz scoffed and his hand hit his chest like he’d been struck there. Your own eyebrows raised in surprise at the insult, widened eyes flicking between the two men and just waiting for the shoe to drop. Soap tossed his guitar on the couch as well and grabbed his plate off the table, turning his back on the Brit with a huff of anger.

For all of a second before Ghost cleared his throat and the Scot froze in place, his shoulders visibly tensing underneath his shirt. Another quick clearing of his throat and Soap turned to look at Ghost over his shoulder. The way his eyes found the Lieutenant was something akin to fear but not quite. The big man was staring at the Scot with an intensity unlike anything you’d ever seen before and Soap’s lips flattened into a thin line as he shifted nervously underneath that gaze. “Pay the man, Johnny,” the Scot seemed to deflate when Ghost gave the order. His head tilted back as he sighed so loud you could hear it from across the room. The air left his lungs in a rush as he did so.

Soap tossed the paper plate into the trash and dug into his pocket, fishing something out of the depths. When his hand pulled out and he extended it towards Gaz, palm opened in the offering. The other Sergeant was quick to snatch away his prize and you barely caught sight of the little bag full of what looked like candy. Maybe gummy bears? Or something made of gelatin at least.

Soap muttered something as he took a seat on the couch, but you couldn’t hear it as the microwave went off and Ghost turned to take out his breakfast burrito. Oh yeah you needed to eat something too, that’s why you were standing in front of the fridge. You opened the top door, inspecting the contents inside curiously. You’d never seen so many breakfast burritos in your life.

They weren’t even in the boxes anymore. Just shoved inside the freezer in their plastic wraps so you had no idea what you were going to be biting into in about two minutes. You pulled one out, almost afraid they were going to come toppling out on top of you when you did but they held steadfast. Unwrapping it you threw it into the microwave and punched in a few numbers before leaning back against the counter and waiting.

Ghost didn’t bother to find a seat, he just ended up standing beside a door. It wasn’t the one John had pulled you into yesterday evening though. Glancing towards that door you could see the light was on inside that room too. So that’s where he had disappeared off to this morning when you saw him leaving his bunkhouse.

When Laswell came through the door everything seemed to come to a screeching halt. Ghost even stopped mid bite of his burrito with his mask shoved up to the bridge of his nose. Everyone stayed quiet as she moved to the door Ghost was standing beside and unlocked it with a key she pulled from the pocket of her windbreaker. When she turned back she glanced at everyone in turn, “Let’s go, we’ve got a lot to discuss.”

Soap didn’t hesitate to hop over the back of the couch getting cut off by Gaz’s long strides in front of him. The both of them nearly tackled each other in their haste to get to the door. Watcher pressed a button on his little handheld device as he stood up and knocked on John’s door a couple times. You watched as all the men stopped before they entered, each of their electronic devices being deposited one at a time onto a little shelf before they headed inside.

Your eyes shot behind you to the microwave with a little bit of annoyance as you saw the timer on the microwave was still at a minute. A sigh fell from your mouth before you followed the other men, you could get it later. You filed into the room behind the tall German, watching everyone sit like they’d been assigned seats. With how long they’d been together they probably had assigned themselves seats at this point. Well all of them except for Ghost who just stood at the far wall with his burrito still in his hand and mask still shoved up to the bridge of his nose. You could smell the food from here and your stomach growled in response. Damn, you should have made your food sooner.

Soap sat near the back of the table with Konig to his right. While Watcher was across from the tall German with Gaz sitting to his left. You took the seat on Konig’s right and across from Gaz, leaning back into the chair with your chin resting on your fist as you inspected the room quietly. There was a model of some kind of warehouse sitting at the head of the table that everyone seemed to be looking at with interest.

When the door opened again John stepped inside the room with a file in one hand and held up a burrito with a questioning look around the room, “Whose is this?” My God the man was a saint, the timer must have gone off as he was leaving his office. Perfect timing John, always the most perfect timing. You lifted your hand in response immediately and he tossed it over the table to you with a subtle smile. Then the brunette took his seat beside Gaz, his hands wiping along his thighs before he found Laswell, “Ready when you are Kate.” You turned your eyes to the front of the room as you set yourself to eating the steaming burrito.

Your mouth caught fire immediately and you watched Gaz across the table barely holding in a smile. The Brit across the table watched as you tried to breathe your way through the pain. It felt like you were exhaling literal fire as you huffed a few times. When a large hand smacked you on the back you turned a look of shock on the man next to you. Sucking in a gasp of air at the pain and searing your throat even more than before. You saw him put a fist to his mouth even with the mask already covering it, “Oh Scheiße! I thought you were choking. I'm sorry Speck,” you forced the hot food down your throat and coughed a couple times to ease the burn.

You waved him away and shook your head, “Oh don’t worry about it.” You coughed again and cleared your singed throat with a shake of your head. “No worries Konig,” you turned away and towards Laswell then to avoid letting the tall man see your wince. Shifting against the back of the chair, still feeling the sting from where his blow had landed. If that was him trying to help you, you had no intention of ever finding out what it felt like when he was aiming to actually cause harm.

The blonde woman looked up from the laptop she was working on and cast John a smile, ignoring the little interruption that you and Konig had caused. “You’re always ready John, it’s one of your redeeming qualities.” Your eyes glanced back and forth between them as you continued to dig into your burrito, turning in the chair to let Cerberus settle between your legs as he looked up at you. Laswell stood up straight after a second longer of typing, hitting a button on the remote she was holding as an overhead projector turned on. Then she turned her attention to the group of men gathered around the table, “The man we captured in Pakistan was Labeeb el-Haider. An ex-resistance faction member from Pakistan, a General according to Speck.”

Eyes found you as you tilted your chin down, passing off a chunk of your burrito to Cerberus. It wasn’t the first time you had used him to avoid the stares from others. Attention was not something you often sought. Laswell didn’t wait for you to look up before she continued, “He was a well of information following your interrogation by the way Speck. We just mentioned your name and he was telling our translator whatever we wanted to know.” Eyes flicked to you from around the room again but you were staring straight ahead at Laswell. Labeeb had really fucked himself bringing up the Admiral.

“We now have an ID on our head of operations,” the picture changed from Labeeb to a face that felt familiar. You sat forward in the chair, narrowing your gaze as you tried to place it. “Amaan al-Mustafa,” you snorted and shook your head as you sat back. That face was familiar for a fuckin reason and now you remembered why. Laswell turned a curious look to you, one eyebrow cocked in question. And when you looked away quickly you noticed the others had their eyes trained on you once more as well. Damnit they’d just forgotten about you. Just had to laugh like an idiot in the middle of a meeting didn’t you, son of a bitch.

You shook your head in answer but she didn’t continue like you’d hoped she would. Laswell was clearly waiting for you to explain yourself now. Clearing your throat you answered her silent question as quickly as you could, “Amaan al-Mustafa, I know him. Well I know his face. He was at the market when it was bombed.” John turned towards you then, curiosity in his eyes as his hands clasped one another on top of the table. They were all waiting for you to explain how the hell you knew that it seemed.

Laswell narrowed her eyes at you though and you were quick to clarify, “He was posing as a guard. Could have killed me with a gun and been sure I was goin down. Then he still tried to do it with a bomb. Just thought it was funny, sorry,” she glanced at the picture still being projected. Missing your small shrug, but as you explained your awkward laugh and seemingly poor sense of humor they all turned back to the woman at the front of the room. Your interruption had obviously caused her to be thrown off her game somewhat though, at least for a moment.

When she flicked to the next picture everyone went quiet once more, “This is where Amaan is apparently holed up right now. It’s in the heart of Zabol’s warehouse district, and we got the schematics for it last night.” This op wasn’t looking very heavy-rollout friendly right now, “I had a model made to help plan the op but we’ll have to move fast. Labeeb was kind enough to inform us that they are going to be moving off-site soon.” She gestured towards the model setup at the head of the table.

John sat forward as he looked it over, pulling the top off to inspect the inside of the building. His beard twitched as his jaw worked, deep in thought as he moved pieces in his mind like it was a game of chess. “We’ll need a quick entry and escape. The building being in the heart of Zabol’s warehouse district means a pretty quick response time from local law enforcement.” There were sounds of agreement from around the table before John asked, “Do we have any details on security measures?” His eyes shot up to Laswell questioningly.

The woman nodded quickly as she answered, “As far as we know there isn’t anything strong enough to resist a breaching charge, and no high tech security that was on the schematics. You’ll just have to contend with ground forces and whatever doors you come across.” She took a seat at the table next to you, still watching John as he worked through everything in his mind.

The Brit glanced down the length of the table at Watcher, “You’ll be our getaway driver then. Don’t want you in the line of fire if you don’t need to be.” The ginger gave the Captain a thumbs up as John’s eyes turned back to the model and he stood up. Moving around to the front of the table to get a different angle on the model he stood quietly. His hands reached up absently as if he was going to hook his thumbs into the straps of his tac vest but it wasn’t there. The realization seemed to hit that he wasn’t actually wearing his vest yet and instead he braced himself against the side of the table.

You watched as he leaned down to inspect it closely, his hand reaching up to run over the side of his jaw before finally he spoke again, “We’ll split up in teams. Gaz and I will go up the outside stairs and clear the top floor. Ghost and Konig you’ll go in the front door and clear the bottom floor. Soap and Speck will go in through the back door here,” he pointed to the back of the model, “You’ll bypass most everyone to get to the stairs and then clear the second floor. We’ll hit them all at the same time” You leaned forward then, honestly that was more than surprising.

He was putting a gun in your hand and sending you into a building without even being on the team himself. John either trusted you or he didn’t trust himself, which one it was though remained a mystery to you. None of that mattered however. You were getting a shot at the man who tried to kill you and you weren’t in the habit of missing. It didn’t matter how you got to that point, only that you got there.

John continued a second later, “Ghost, Gaz, and Soap,” John made sure he had the three men’s attention before he continued, “Carry light breaching charges, we won’t have our packs. We’re going in light and quick,” there were quick nods of response from the men. John stood back up then and motioned for Ghost to join him at the head of the table. You’d nearly forgotten the big man was even in the room. John pointed to the lowest floor, “How long do you think it’ll take to clear?”

Ghost tilted his head in thought, “So long as nothing gets fucked I’d say two minutes max.” John nodded in answer and everyone around the table stood. All of you were moving to get a closer look at the floors you would be clearing.

Gaz was the next one to pipe up, “It shouldn’t take us, at most, a minute and a half.” John nodded his agreement as he inspected the top floor. “Push up here,” he pointed to a choke point in the hall, “a flash down the hall and then one in each of these rooms as we clear. We’ll be in and out the fastest probably.” He looked up at the brunette looking to see if he agreed with the assessment.

John was already nodding, “We’ll head down to the second floor to assist them when we’re done. Keep an ear on your comms,” he glanced at you and Soap. “It’ll take the longest time to clear the second floor with all the rooms and this door separating one half from the other. You’ll definitely need a breaching charge for that one.”

Soap nodded his agreement to John’s suggestion, “I’d say a heavy breaching charge, Price. I don’t think a light will do it.” John didn’t seem to like the sound of that as his mustache flicked up and he sucked in a breath. There wasn’t much he could do about it though as he gave a slow nod of agreement.

“Cerberus can keep it, he won’t get weighed down and he always has his vest anyway. That way Soap won’t have to worry about a pack,” you glanced between John and the Sergeant earning a beard twitch from the Captain and a smile from the other man. They both obviously liked the idea and besides, Cerberus would probably get thrown off if he wasn’t carrying something.

Glancing down at the second floor of the model you pointed to one of the rooms behind the security door and glanced at the sitting woman, “Are these sleeping quarters?” Laswell nodded an answer after she took a quick look at the rooms. “If he’s in there it’ll be hard to take him alive. There’s a lot of places to hide and there are likely to be a lot of people in there,” you glanced around at the circle of men. Soap nodded his agreement even before John did.

Without glancing up at you the Captain pointed towards the dog then, “That’s why we’re putting you with Soap on the second floor. Cerberus can detain a hostile so long as there isn’t too much foot traffic, yeah?” You gave a quick nod when he finally looked up at you, “Should give you a bit of an edge then.” John put the top back on the building then and crossed his arms over his chest, “When we get the HVT we’ll exfil through the first floor where Ghost and Konig have cleared through and out the back door. Watcher will be waiting out there with our getaway van.”

The ginger nodded quickly and that was it. There was no room for further discussion as the team all seemed to agree on what they would all be doing. It was going to be weird working with someone else after so long. You could only hope it would be like riding a bike. Time to get geared up and get after the man who had tried to murder you.

As you followed the team out of the squad room they led you back across base towards the bunkhouses. Confusion was beginning to set in but before you could wonder aloud they stopped in front of a small building you'd overlooked on your first few days here. But looking back you suddenly remembered it was where a few of the guys had disappeared to when you first got back to the base.

Price punched in a code next to the door and then shoved a key into the lock before he pulled the door open and held it. The team filed in quickly with you and Cerberus hot on their heels, the Captain stepping in behind you. The guys split up into their individual cages, each man with their own key as they set themselves to getting their gear ready. Leaving you to watch quietly in the middle of the room.

Damn if this didn't bring back memories though. Your chest was beginning to feel heavy with the thoughts of the last time you’d been in a room like this. Gearing up for an op that should have been an easy knockout and had instead sent your entire life spiraling out of control. You saw their old faces, burnt and bloody, in those of the other men around you and it made your palms feel clammy. The muscles of your back were starting to tighten in response to the anxiety currently pouring off of you in waves.

It was hard to swallow your throat felt so tight and the dog at your side could sense that something was off. Even as you actively hid it behind that careful mask he was pressing into your leg with his whole body, a velcro dog if there ever was one. His familiar warmth and weight a comfort as it always had been. Since the moment you'd first taken him with you Cerberus has never failed to keep you sane. You had found him at the lowest point in your life and keeping him alive, keeping him safe, was the only thing that had ensured your survival back in the worst of those dark days.

You barely even heard the sound of the door opening again behind you before a familiar voice caught your attention. Dragging you out of your own dark thoughts by the ankles and forcing you to pay attention. You turned to find the blonde from this morning, holding more than a few items as he sat them on the table beside you. "This is for you, Speck. Standard issue gear, you just have to sign for it since it's a loan out," he held up a clipboard to you. You stared down at the line that was awaiting your legal signature. Awaiting the name you hadn't heard from anyone in years and had honestly forgotten then sound of.

When you looked back up at him though he could see the slight tilt of your head and the humor in your eyes. Yeah that shit wasn't happening. Thankfully John stepped out of his cage though, grabbing the clipboard from Wade and the pen before he put a hastily scribbled signature on the blank line. "I'm signing for all his stuff Wade," the blonde glanced down and for a moment you swear he was about to refuse. To say something in opposition to the commanding Brit in front of you, but the look currently being leveled at him made him think better. Well he wasn't a complete idiot, not always anyway.

Wade gave a slow nod and turned another look to you, "Any preference on your loadout? I can't do any modifications really, but I can outfit you with something standard for the time being." John stepped back into his cage then, he'd done his job for now it seemed. Your eyes followed him as you watched him pull his vest on, setting himself to buckling and velcroing respectively. Keeping his focus on getting ready like you should have been doing but seemed unable to do. The sinking feeling that you'd have to suffer through everything again pressed into your gut like a knife. Twisting into you and souring your face even through the mask.

Keep your distance, Speck, don't get close cause then it gets messy. You'd told yourself that for two years now. Repeated that mantra in your head every single time you were forced into work with someone. And yet the second you'd gotten here you'd forgotten it all. Forgotten the pain that had come with the loss of that close bond you had with your brothers, with the SEALs who fought at your back.

You had thrown yourself directly back into the line of fire the moment it had been John standing at that door and not one of the others. Anyone else and you'd have shot first consequences be damned, anyone else would have been lying on that pavement bleeding out while you made your way to the nearest vehicle you could hot wire. But it hadn't been anyone else and now look where you were, exactly in the place you needed to avoid. Don't get attached, Speck. Keep everyone at arm's length cause if you don't it'll come crashing down around you. Get out of your head now, you had a job to do and you would do it. Focus on the job, not the people you were running it with. Stop thinking about the fuckin Brit and focus you-

A clearing of a throat beside you caught your attention and once more forced you out of your own swarming thoughts. You turned that look of nonchalance back to the blonde, blinking a couple times as you cleared your head. "Yeah, you got a PDSW 528? Short range sights?" You had always preferred either an LMG or a submachine gun. Quick and accurate or fast and dirty, those were your only two modes and it showed in your choice of weapons. Wade pulled out his little notepad with a nod before you added, "And a 9mm would be good. X12?" It felt like ordering from McDonald's as you watched him nod again and write it down in his notepad. He turned like he was about to go before you stopped him, "Oh I'll need a first line EOD kit as well. And I like to roll with four flashes and two grenades usually too," the blonde seemed to hesitate then.

His eyes shot to the Captain behind him in his cage getting, at first, a sigh of annoyance from the Captain before the brunette nodded in response and Wade wrote that down as well. He slid the pen and notepad into his chest pocket and gave you a half smile, "Be back in a few minutes." He left through a side door then, stopping at another keypad to punch numbers into for only a moment before he disappeared.

You turned back to your newly assigned gear and gave it a once over before you started to pull it on. They were outfitting you with a tactical vest, a helmet, a radio, some ear protection, shooting glasses, a thigh holster, and a small pouch that would attach to your tac vest. It'd been a long time since you had been given a full setup. God it'd been two years since someone had outfitted you with an actual team radio and ear protection. And then of course you'd been given a new harness for Cerberus to boot with its own body length pack for anything you needed for him to carry. It was even the same style that you usually used so at least you wouldn't have to adjust to anything there.

Inspecting it closely you checked every buckle, every strap, hell every seam on it. There was no way you were gonna trust anyone else to assure Cerberus' safety, not this time and not this dog. "Hopp," you patted the table and the big Dutchie hopped up easily, standing eye level with you on top of the tall piece of furniture. The dog certainly looked his part with his thick fur, straight back, hard muscle, and proud stance. A sight that could strike fear if you saw that missile streaking towards you.

You unhooked his lead as you strapped the new vest on him. It was as black as the stripe of fur running from the tip of his nose to the tip of his tail. And it blended in perfectly until it met with his deep, russet, fawn colored sides and their brindle patterning. There were three handles on the back portion, one close to his neck running perpendicular to him and another near the end of his back with the same orientation. The other handle ran parallel with Cerberus' spine ensuring no matter how you and the dog were standing you would always have control over him if you needed it.

Lifting him up you watched him go limp, the seventy five pounds of muscle completely pliant in midair. The handles held fast and you let out a breath, taking a close look at the harness one last time before Soap wandered over. He held up the heavy breaching charge and you tilted your head at it as you took it from him. It was bulkier than you'd initially expected but you could make it work. "Hopp," you issued the command again and Cerberus was at your eyes again with Soap watching. You grabbed the small pack meant to attach to Cerberus' vest and zipped it up inside before buckling it onto the harness and giving it a hard tug to make sure it wasn't going anywhere.

The second you and Soap both saw it stick easily he headed back to his cage to finish what he was doing. Just in time too because a moment later Wade returned. He placed the weapons down in front of you along with an ammo box and a few magazines for each of the weapons. Then he slid the flashes, grenades, and EOD kit into the little pouch before zipping it up and helping you attach it to the vest. "Anything else?" He asked quickly and you shook your head in answer, watching him basically run out of the room before he was assigned with something else to do. You had a feeling he was probably overworked and very underappreciated if Ghost’s earlier reaction to him was anything to go by.

As you finished loading the magazines and sliding them into their respective pockets on the vest a hand clapped you on the shoulder. You turned to find Soap's blue smiling eyes, "I'll put some fresh bandages over those stitches on the way there since you never came to see me last night." A quick answering smile and a nod and you slid the pistol into the thigh holster. "Why was that by the way? Ye trying to get them infected or something?" His eyes narrowed at you suspiciously as you steadfastly avoided them.

Attaching Cerberus' lead to the new harness John's loud voice rang out, "Let's go!" Saving you from answering the hard question, you could act with the best of them but good God you couldn't lie. The team filed out, everyone geared up to go into hell and back twice over.

-------

The car ride was long, especially with everyone packed into the same van. At least this time though it wasn't as small as the last minivan you'd been shoved into. Gaz was driving the cargo van for now, he'd switch places with Watcher whenever yall made it to the warehouse but it was safer to let him drive until you got there. You would have been the only option that was safer but you had no idea where you were or the roads to take to get there. And the Captain seemed more than content to keep it that way for now.

Everyone else other than the dark- skinned Brit was sitting in the back of the cargo van in varying degrees of wakefulness. A false wall keeping you all close in, in case anyone got any ideas in regards to inspecting whatever you were hauling. Bags and crates had been set into the back just beyond the wall as cover should it be needed. The space you were all in was just big enough for y'all to fit comfortably. Though the addition of an extra person would be a bit of a tighter fit you would all manage. It was still better than sitting squished together in your tac vests with your weapons and gear in the back of a loaded down minivan whose shocks were about to give out at any moment.

Across from you Watcher was laying against Konig's side with one long, heavy arm wrapped around his shoulders. The tall German had leaned over to lay against Ghost as he was about the only one tall enough for him to use as a pillow. Soap had buried himself in the Lieutenant's other side, his face hidden by a rather large bicep. His face was basically shoved in the other man's armpit and while you wouldn't have dared to get close enough to touch him, watching the Sergeant do it was kind of…cute? Yeah, cute. Meanwhile Ghost was staring absently down at a phone in his hand, scrolling through whatever had taken his fancy at the moment though he didn't really seem all that interested in it truly.

You, Cerberus, and John were on the other side of the van, quietly looking ahead. It was a task in and of itself not to lean over to lay against him. To put yourself into a comfortable sleep like the three men across from you had. You could feel him next to you every time he shifted positions on the floor of the van. Every fiber of your being wanted to touch him but there were way too many eyes. And not to mention when the undeniable urge for more set in there would be nothing either of you could do but suffer a round of blue balls in the middle of an all too important op. It wasn't worth the pain in truth. But God if he didn't look like a dream leaning back against the wall of the van, gun in his hands, and a boonie hat on his head. You had to admit that hat looked fitting on him. Like it was made to sit on only John Price's head. You highly doubted anyone else could have pulled it off, that much is for sure.

No, stop it. Job. Gun. Dog. You had an entire op still to get through, keep it together Speck. Quit thinking about him for two damn seconds please, for the love of God and everything else holy. Stop. So you tilted your head back, tuning out the world around you as Gaz took you to your destination.

A back alley that was a block away from your target building and just big enough for the van to fit into without tearing apart the sides. Watcher climbed into the front, dressed for the part in traditional thobe and taqiyah though nothing could really cover his undeniably pale skin and ginger hair. You could only hope no one looked too close into the darkened windows. Gaz joined all of you in the back as the false panel pushed open and you lined up in your respective teams of two.

John and Gaz would go first since they had to climb the stairs to the third floor. Then Ghost and Konig so they could engage at the front door first and draw attention away from you, Cerberus, and Soap going in through the back door. When John glanced back he got quick nods to indicate you were all ready and he pushed the back doors open.

Typically an op like this would have been done in the dead of night, but you couldn't wait that long. It was time sensitive and you'd already lost two days. The chances of your target no longer being there only increased with every minute you waited. So the sun sat on the horizon, sinking into the west but by no means was it nightfall. It wouldn't be for a bit, not yet.

The team stayed together until Ghost and Konig broke off first to head around the building. The rest of you continued around the back, John and Gaz turning the corner onto the street to head up the stairs to the top floor. You and Soap held on the back entrance, one on either side as you waited for the all clear to go. It was on Ghost's mark, whenever the Lieutenant decided to call it. Any second now. His deep voice finally came over the comms with a quick, "Breaching now." In the next couple of moments you heard the sound of voices inside becoming panicked.

Soap tried the door handle but the second he reached for it Cerberus let out a growl and you tensed, your arms already coming up as the door flung out and opened. Your eyes locked onto a face that was contorted in panic, eyes wide and mouth opening to let out a yell. Your hand shot to cover the mouth, slamming the man's head against the wall before you wrapped an arm around his throat and pulled him away from the door. It closed in the next moment and you saw Soap's look of surprise as your back found the wall. Arm locked around the man's neck as he struggled violently in your arms, kicking and trying to break your hold with wild elbows.

After some painful seconds though he finally slumped against you. You let him drop to the concrete as you watched Soap step forward, knife in hand. No witnesses it would seem. None who had seen your faces anyway. That was fine with you. When Soap moved back towards the door he waited until you tapped his shoulder before he moved inside.

No one else was in the halls but you could hear gunfire coming from the front door. Ghost and Konig's distraction was working out well it seemed. The Sergeant opened the stairwell door and you followed behind him, Cerberus at your hip. You kept an eye behind as Soap cleared upwards to the second floor, stepping backwards up the stairs in a cautious and steady rhythm. The door opened easily as the both of you moved quietly, the door of the second floor opening as you slipped inside. It was profoundly silent, almost unnervingly so.

It was so devoid of sound that when John's voice cracked through your headset you nearly jumped, "We've got the families on the third floor. They are saying Amaan is on the second floor. Soap and Speck I repeat Amaan is reportedly on the second floor. We cannot move to help you secure, too high risk with the families up here." Well there goes a wrench in that plan, it was just the three of you then, lovely.

Soap looked your way and took a step behind you as you raised your gun. Your eyes were trained ahead as you watched the hallway in front of you, glancing between each door quickly. Then you heard Soap answer, "Good copy, we'll get him if he's here." A hand tapped your shoulder and you moved forward at that cautious and steady pace. Clear each room and then blow the security door. Easy.

The first room was devoid of anyone. Much like the second, third, and fourth were. Your eyes shot to Soap who was either visibly nervous or confused, you couldn't tell in your own haze of thoughts. It was much too quiet for your liking and with a hitch already in your plan you didn't like the possibility of another. The second you opened the fifth door though bullets whizzed through the open doorway, both you and Soap scrambling away from it as chunks and splinters of wood dislodged. A belt fed heavy machine gun was eating away at the very wall. The fuck were they hiding in there that needed to be defended like that?

You reached for the pouch at your hip and pulled out one of the flashes. You made sure Soap saw it before you pulled the pin and tossed it through the hole that the person inside had shot through the drywall. Reaching down you unclipped Cerberus' lead in the next heartbeat and wrapped your fingers around one of the handles of the vest. The second that the flash went off you peeled around the corner, firing at the man holding his eyes behind the belt fed. You couldn't hear anything else inside the room but your neck prickled even after you felt Soap tap your shoulder to keep going. You held up a closed fist in answer and felt him freeze near your back. "Voran," you whispered and Cerberus darted around the room, tail waving behind him as he searched diligently.

When he stopped and sat down you lifted your gun higher, his eyes staring intently at a piece of plywood leaning against the wall around the corner. Your eyes shot to Soap, pointing towards it and he gave you a nod as you took up positions on either side. Both of you took a corner in your hand before glancing towards one another and pulling it off the wall. A shrill scream filled the air the second that light hit the small face. A child, a little girl, stared up at the two of you from the hiding place she'd been put in.

She tried to scramble further away, further back into the hole that had been cut into the wall but there was nowhere else for her to go. Even with her small size she barely fit inside. You couldn't move as you stared down at the face, it wouldn't have done any good anyway. There wasn't a little girl alive on the planet that didn't make you pause, and your palms sweat. They all reminded you of your own daughter, the one you hadn't seen in so long you doubted she even remembered you existed. That at one point you had actually tried. It always made you remember how terrible you'd been as a father, or at least how terrible your ex-wife had always made you feel. Always telling you that they deserved better, that your daughter needed an actual father not a man she saw maybe thirty days out of the year.

Children were not your strong suit. Just remember what your ex-wife told you. Stay away from them so you don't fuck them up more than you already had. It was easier than letting the stain of your existence cloud their lives forever. So you stepped back as Soap moved forward, whispering a quick, "Fuss," as you took up a position at the door. It'd be easier just to let him deal with her. You'd procreated but that didn't mean you were a dad or had any paternal instinct whatsoever.

The Sergeant spoke quickly to the little girl, his voice immediately soothing even to your ears, "Hey, it's ok. We aren't here tah hurt ye." He pressed the button of his radio as he coaxed the girl out of her hiding spot as gently as he could, "Got a little girl down here Price. You got a mom to match?" The Captain muttered something you didn't catch as Soap helped her out of the hole. "Hey, do ye understand me lass?" The little girl stared blankly at him, she didn't know English, at least not enough to answer him back. "Speck, does she understand ya?" The blue eyes found you at the door, barely keeping your expression neutral rather than full of the nerves that were about to make you sick.

There was a job to do though, so get it done Speck. You motioned to the door and switched places with the Scot, kneeling beside her and trying Farsi first, "Hey, do you understand me?" Light came to her eyes as she nodded quickly, and you smiled at her eagerness. "Good. We are not here to hurt you ok? We are looking for someone, do you think you can help me?" Her eyes flicked nervously towards Soap but she gave you a hesitant nod in answer, "Amaan al-Mustafa. Have you seen him today?" The little girl's face immediately fell into a frown so deep it aged her well beyond the eight or nine years she could count.

You didn't need to hear her say it, or see her nod, she'd seen him and she hadn't liked what she'd seen either. Her eyes were staring down at her feet, refusing to meet your gaze. God you hated seeing that look on her face, scared and just wanting to be held but not by some stranger. She wanted her mother like all children do. Hell it was probably her father currently laying on the floor dead right behind her. You glanced at Cerberus whispering, "Platz," as the dog sank to his belly beside you. Still speaking in Farsi you ran your hand over his head and smiled at the girl, "Would you like to pet the dog?"

"Yes!" Came her immediate response and her fingers immediately reached for the big dog, running her comparatively tiny hands over his head. It did its job in distracting her from the world she'd found herself in. And especially keeping her eyes off the man in the corner lying dead by your doing.

It kept her quiet and relaxed as you both waited for the Captain to get back to you. Not long after she started petting the dog you heard John finally answered, "We've got a woman here saying the girl is probably hers. Jasra?" She certainly looked and acted like a Jasra, brave and courageous even facing the horrors of war head on.

You were quick to repeat it back to the girl in a question, "Is your name Jasra?" Her eyes shot up to you and she nodded, "Would you like to go find your mother, Jasra?" Another eager nod as you glanced up at Soap who was already relaying to Price that it was in fact the girl's mother. "Come here, Jasra," you scooped the girl into your arm, glancing down at Cerberus with a quick, "Fuss," before joining Soap at the door of the room. "You get the breaching charge set, I'll be back in a second." The Scot nodded and unzipped the pouch at Cerberus' side, pulling out the heavy breaching charge before he moved towards the door. The two of you split up as you made your way back to the stairwell. "Captain go to the top of the stairs, I'm sending the girl up with Cerberus." A quick affirmative let you know he'd heard you as you opened the door of the stairwell.

A quick glance down and up let you know that the stairwell was still, thankfully, empty. Setting the girl down on her feet you gave her a reassuring smile as you took her hand and put it on the back handle of the Dutchie's vest. You hooked Cerberus' lead back onto the harness before pulling it off your waist and putting it in the girl's free hand. "Keep your hands here until you get to the man at the top of the stairs, ok?" She nodded quickly and you glanced up as the door above you opened.

Pressing the button on your comm you quickly told the Captain, "Call Cerberus." A second later the big black head lifted curiously, glancing up as he heard his name come from above. "Say hier," the dog's eyes shot to you, his head tilting as John repeated the command above you. He seemed unsure since it wasn't your voice giving the command but a quick, "Again," and the command sounding from John's mouth overhead and he took off with the little girl up the stairs.

Cerberus paused for just a second to glance back, making sure you weren't about to scold him, but when you said nothing he kept going. Closing the door you headed back down the hall towards Soap. "Keep him with you Captain, we're breaching the security door now," you said into the comm before you lined up across from Soap and gave the Scot a nod. The charge blew inwards in the next second and the two of you continued inside.

Three men went down outside any of the rooms the second that you tossed in a flashbang and pushed through the security door. He stuck to one side of the hallway while you stayed on the other side, covering one another in an x-pattern from across the hall. You ducked into your room first, one guy going down nearly immediately and the other trying desperately to dive for the cover of a desk before you put two rounds into him as well. You exited your room just before Soap came out of his, the both of you continuing down the hall in the same pattern.

Your next room was empty save for a few beds, but you heard more than a few shots from Soap’s side of the hallway. You stayed in your doorway, waiting for the Scot to be finished. Just as he rejoined you the next door on his side of the hallway cracked inward and a guy aimed your way out of the door, firing blindly around it. You put four rounds through the wood and heard a yell on the other side as the shooting stopped. The both of you moved forward together before Soap ducked into his side finishing off the guy you'd already downed and you stepped into yours.

The first thing you saw was the gun, the second thing you saw was the woman whose head it was being held to. The next thing you saw was the man behind her and his familiar face. Your HVT. Laswell wanted him alive, she’d said that multiple times as you all headed out, but shit happens right? Your ticking clock was already nearing the red zone anyway, it'd taken you and Soap too long to deal with the girl especially without the help of Gaz and Price like you had originally planned. And with Ghost and Konig busy making sure shit didn't hit the fan outside the building before you were all ready to leave there hadn’t been anyone else who could help the both of you secure the second floor.

As Soap exited into the hallway behind you, you heard him call your name. Just a simple callsign, but the man in front of you finally seemed to recognize just who the hell you were. The gun pointed your way in a second as he fired off a shot, inaccurate thanks to the woman he was still holding. You saw the panic in his eyes then, the gun shaking in his hand before he yelled in Farsi, "Back up!" There was still no shot on him and the gun was leveled at the woman once more. Either you comply or you sign her death warrant. Damn if you didn't wish you could put your signature on that blank line, but she was innocent and while you’d done monstrous things you weren’t inherently a monster yourself. This woman was not a player in all of this. She was being used just like most of the women upstairs had been, they didn’t ask to be in this situation.

Comply. You backed up a step and watched as he pushed the woman forward slowly in tandem with each of your steps. Soap was to your left on the side of the door, biding his time surprisingly patiently. Waiting to strike. He wasn’t destined to get it though as the man tossed the woman through the open door and slammed it shut behind her.

You immediately went for the doorknob jiggling the metal quickly as Soap wrangled the woman to the wall, checking her for weapons. You ignored the both of them as you glared at the locked door in front of you. Glass shattered on the other side of the door and you backed up a step before Soap moved to stop you, "Wait!" You hesitated as the Sergeant continued, his hand wrapped around the woman’s arm keeping her in sight at all times, "Man could have a bomb in there, Speck." Your eyes shot back to the closed door, eyes narrowing at the object between you and the man who had tried to kill you.

The desire for vengeance burned deep though as your glare shot back to the Scot. You then answered him cooly, "Better start running then, kid." Gaelic curses and insults followed you as your foot slammed into the door with a hard kick, busting the frame in as you pushed inside. Your gun leveled aimed head level but there was no one else in the room, just a busted window in front of you. Head empty of thought except for two words, 'Fuck it,' you took off after him. At least until Soap's hand grabbed your wrist and he stopped you dead in your tracks just before you painfully wrenched your still healing arm. "What the fuck are-" you stopped when you noticed what the man was looking at.

A case sat at the foot of the bed. It was unopened but there wasn't much else it could be other than the word currently running through your mind, ‘Bomb.’ Your head hit the clouds, too much had run through your mind before this whole thing started. Too much that was too similar to what had ended your last career.

Christ you'd even sent Cerberus away with someone else and now it was going to happen again. You were going to lose it all and it was going to be your fault. At least this time you wouldn't have to deal with the consequences of a monumental fuck up though, huh? The jostling of your injured shoulder pulled you out of your frozen state as Soap shot a glare at you and started to pull you with him along with the woman, "Come on we've got to get the fuck out of here. There is no telling what will set that thing off." That was probably best, yeah. For anyone else anyway.

Part of you truly wanted to follow him, to just leave without worrying about anyone else in the area but you couldn't. Not when you'd already let two of these things go off in the middle of the market because you hadn’t been paying attention. There was no telling how bad this one would be. How many people would die if you stepped away again? That wasn’t something you were willing to go to Hell with on your hands. Your suffering was already gonna be bad enough with that. "Price local law enforcement are gonna be here any second," Ghost’s voice came through your headset.

It distracted Soap long enough for you to pull your arm free and reach for your EOD kit. Squatting down at the foot of the bed even as he let out another string of Gaelic curses. John’s voice came through the headset next, "Soap status on the HVT?" After this was over you really needed to get him to say that more. It sounded truly adorable coming from him with that accent. You could just imagine him staring intently ahead as he asked for your status with that little hat sitting on his head. It brought a smile to your face even as you began inspecting the case.

The Scotsman backed up a couple steps as he watched you begin carefully. Running your hands over the sides of the case as you checked for triggers on the outside. "Potential bomb Price. HVT is gone though, we'll need the family," you could practically hear everyone in the building cursing. You’d lost the only reason you’d come here and it was your fault. You should have been quicker. Should have gone after him. Should have done something more, whatever you could.

No, focus, there was a potential bomb in your hands, you couldn’t afford to be distracted by the shoulda, woulda, couldas. You flipped the top open slowly, still checking for any kind of wire or trigger as you went. As the lid finally opened all the way you sighed and muttered to the man behind you, "Not potential anymore Soap. Definitely a bomb. Get to running," you leaned up to examine it better, listening to the Scotsman relay the information to the rest of the team.

You could hear the approaching sirens literally counting down the time you had left to defuse this damn thing and get out even though there wasn’t a visible timer as of yet. John's commanding voice growled out orders though in your ear, "Everyone get to the van. Bomb isn't our problem, we're leaving." No, the bomb was most certainly your problem. They could leave if they wanted to, in fact you highly encouraged it. You'd rather not have their deaths on your hands when you met your maker.

Ghost didn't hesitate to answer with an affirmative. And Soap was about to as well when he noticed you still weren't moving. Instead you were pulling another tool out of the kit as you ran a delicate touch over a wire. "Speck, come on, we've got to go," he urged you vehemently. You shot him a look but stayed quiet, keeping the majority of your focus on the most pressing matters right now.

No timer meant remote detonation was most probable. Or some kind of trigger in the room maybe. Unless it was a timer but without a face in which case there was no telling how long you had left until it went kaboom. Another smile at the sound effect you made in your mind before Price's voice came through over your headset, "Soap, Speck, do you copy? We're regrouping on the van. It's time to leave." Soap remained stubbornly still right behind you as you worked, still holding the woman by her bicep as he actively refused to answer the man.

A sigh left you as you pulled away from the case and hit your radio growling out a quick, "Copy Cap." You shot another glare towards Soap before you went back to work. He still stayed stubbornly at your side. At least until you said in the calmest tone he'd ever heard for someone messing with a bomb, "You should leave Soap. Make sure the Captain gets Cerberus into the van for me. I'll be there as soon as I'm done here, alright?" He scoffed at that and shook his head.

The man put himself even closer instead with a stubborn look in his eye, "I mean it Soap. You don't even know me. Don't know my name, you don’t know the things I’ve done. I'm not worth you dying over, kid. Besides, your Lieutenant might kill me again if I get you killed too, so please do me a favor and head on out ok? And make sure everyone else gets far away from here." You had a small smile on your mouth as you cut one wire linking a series of secondary detonators to the blasting cap.

Soap watched, his eyes flicking between you, the bomb, and the broken window you had nearly jumped out of. The sirens were nearly outside the building now. Probably trying to get through the crowded streets to the building's location. Slowly he backed up and shook his head, "You better not die here Speck." You gave a low hum of affirmation as he found the door. "And don't get caught either, we'll find you alright?" Another low hum of agreement and Soap took off back down the hall with the woman in tow.

The calm had overtaken you by this point. Feeling the cool chill of ice rush through your veins that cooled your heated body and stopped the adrenaline coursing through you from causing your hands to shake. No more remote detonation, but there was still the timer with an unknown detonation time. The wires were making your head hurt, or was that the law enforcement outside with their raging sirens. No. No it had to be John's voice that was currently yelling into the comms, "Speck get your arse down to the van now!" Yeah, no problem Captain, be there in just a tick. Little bomb humor, it made you smirk as you kept going. Keep a hold of that one for later.

You traced the wire back to the timing device, blinking a couple times as you held it between your thumb and forefinger. Talented at EOD you were not, but you were competent. Still you weren’t completely sure you were correct in your choice this time. The seconds ticked by in your head as you looked down at it. Tracing it once more to double check you held the cutters up to the wire and pursed your lips. You only mess up once right? Fuck it.

The wire split in half and you waited for the bright light. The searing burn that came with the heat of a bomb and the fires of Hell. Instead there was a click from deeper inside the case. Your heart stopped and you sucked in a breath. Fuck, fuck, fuck, what did you miss? You'd checked every inch of that bomb, what could you have possibly missed? You’d already disconnected the remote detonator. And the secondary tripwire triggers. Nothing, you hadn't missed a single thing. Your uptick in heartbeat slowly calmed again as you realized the click had been the bomb disarming. Holy shit you hadn't just killed yourself and countless people. Oh thank fuck.

Time to get out of here before you got yourself killed. You grabbed your EOD kit and closed it up, loading your gear back into the pouch at your side. As you slung your gun over your shoulder you heard something clink behind you and turned just in time to see the small looking canister on the ground. Ah shit. It went off right before your eyes and everything went white, your ears ringing as it disoriented every sense you had.

Your head tumbled dizzily with vertigo and you felt yourself stumbling backwards through a minefield of obstacles. Hands grasping desperately for anything to hold onto and keep yourself from falling onto the floor of the room. When your knees buckled and you felt like you were free falling though you felt bile rise in your stomach. The fuck? It wasn’t a grenade, shit was a flashbang what the hell had just happened?

The drop was long and good God did it hurt the second your body hit the ground, nearly falling on your head. Where the fuck were you? What the hell was going on? The bile in your stomach rose again before you could stop it and you turned on an elbow, the few contents in your stomach spilling onto someone’s shoes that had rushed to help you before they too scrambled backwards.

Pain coursed through your body as you stared up at the window you'd just stumbled out of and onto main street out front of the warehouse below. People screamed around you and backed up from your form. You were laid out on the ground on your back now. Your rifle laid across your stomach as you groaned and tried to push yourself up. You needed to go. Move Speck. Get the fuck out of here. Now Speck. Go! Move you idiot!

You stood slowly as the doors of the warehouse opened and you saw the officers beginning to file out, looking for you. Your eyes darted back and forth for some kind of escape route that didn't involve heading anywhere near them. If you didn't get off the main street right now though you'd be in a Pakistani prison by nightfall. You put your back to the officers filing out as you pulled at the straps of the helmet, taking it off of your head as you tried your best to blend in for as long as you could.

Don't look back, just keep walking Speck. You could feel the strap of your gun tugging at your neck as you went. It kept you as hidden as you could in the sea of bodies as the officers searched for you. The crowd was parting around you though like the red sea did for Moses. The second you heard the officers yelling you took off as fast as you could. Don’t look back, just go, the last thing you needed was to get caught.

Darting down an alley you tried to shake your tail in the maze of alleys and backstreets, but they knew the city better than you could ever hope to. Don't stop running though, not until sirens disappear, Speck. Your feet pounded against the hard ground, gun strap around your shoulder as you fled the scene. Another street was ahead, the only option you had for escape at this point. You certainly couldn't head back the way you'd come, not with the officers you knew were currently trying to track you down. Fuck it.

You sprinted towards the street but before you got there the cargo van skidded to a halt in front of you. Brakes and tires squealing in the effort. How the fuck had they found you? The back doors flung open and Soap and Gaz hopped out. Watching the way you were coming from with their guns raised. A few shots popped off behind you and they were quick to return the fire. John looked around the side of the door and yelled, "Get in! We are leaving!" Good enough for you. You hauled ass towards them, John reaching a hand out to pull you up into the van as you hopped inside. Soap and Gaz right behind you as they fired off a couple more shots.

The second John yelled, "Go, go, go!" The van took off before the doors had even shut. Watcher quite literally floored it as John, Soap, and Gaz worked together to pull the doors closed. You were leaning against the side of the van as the Captain whirled on you. Fire swam in his eyes. Barely controlled anger obvious on his features, "What the fuck were you thinking? Were you even thinking?" Indignation flared in your mind as you stood up straight. He was hot when he was angry sure but his questions raised that rebellious side of your mind and your chin lifted and your shoulders squared in response.

The need to rebel against the man trying to put you down fueled your actions, no one questioned your decisions but you. Even when you knew you'd be kicking yourself for it later you couldn't help yourself but to shoot back, "I was thinking I could keep a lot of people from dying. I was thinking I could do my job," you managed to growl out through gritted teeth. A much deeper growl came from behind the false wall and you heard the loud barks echoing through the small space. Claws scratched vigorously as Cerberus tried to get through to you.

John wasn't done with you though, his hand grabbing one of the straps on your vest and forcing you to lock your eyes on him, "I wasn't looking for an actual answer. Keep your mouth in check or I'll do it for you." Your teeth clenched together, watching as he stared down at you. The tension in the van was palpable as he reamed you verbally. Not even Cerberus' thunderous barking could break the attention the both of you had on one another. His anger was a front for his worry. You could see it in his eyes as the waves of fury danced in his eyes, parting for just a quick moment as he let you see it.

Your lips pursed, suffocating your own anger at being questioned, "Copy that, sir," you forced out. Watching as his eyes flicked down to your mouth you continued to stare hard at him. You wanted to call him out, say something that made him understand, but he didn’t need to know the guilt you felt. The guilt you always carried strapped to your back. His hand in your vest pushed you a bit harder, your back hitting the metal hard and drawing out a huff of pain from you in response.

The blue eyes staring down at you narrowed slightly before he growled, "When I give you an order you follow it. I say get back to the van, you get there like your life depends on it because it probably does." John stopped, his gaze not softening in the slightest as you gave him a quick nod of understanding despite the fire in your eyes. His hand loosened in the strap of your vest before he stepped back with a sigh and shook his head. His eyes found the two Sergeants staring between the two of you then, the both of them staying quiet in the suffocating tension. "What are you two looking at?" Soap and Gaz immediately shook their heads in answer, hands raising as they quietly claimed their innocence.

It was the first time you'd had a chance to glance around the back of the van. Ghost was watching with his arms crossed against the other wall. You hadn’t even realized that he too was back here. When a pothole rocked the entire van, everyone immediately reached for the nearest thing they could hold onto. Ghost found the wall behind him just as you did the same on your side. Soap and Gaz braced themselves against the doors and one another. John, who was standing in the middle of the van, fell backwards against you.

He tensed the moment he touched you as you steadied him with an arm around his waist. One of his hands slapped over the back of your own hand currently braced against the wall. While the finger’s of his left latched onto your forearm. Heat flared over your skin as he touched it, the calluses of his palm catching against the hair of your arms. Damn he felt good like this. His back pressing firmly against your chest as you held him against you with one arm. Barely catching yourself before you pressed your lips to his just barely exposed neck.

Your mouth would fit just perfectly right above that tan and black bandana he was wearing. Just lean up to that space right below his hairline where you could see that little string that kept his boonie hat in place. Standing up a bit taller you very nearly did it, blinking a couple times as you remembered just where the hell you were and the fact you had been at each other’s throats not even fifteen seconds ago. Your arm released like you’d been burned by a stove or something and you stepped back, moving your hand to the rifle instead as you huffed.

John seemed just as tense still as he adjusted his bandana, pulling it up at the back and refusing to turn around to look at you. Thankfully no one else seemed to have noticed your impulse control issues. How very near you came to kissing their Captain right in front of them. Soap walked right on by you towards the false wall and released the latch. In the next second a big body shot through the opening he created. Cerberus found your legs immediately, his ears pinned back against his head, tail wagging nervously behind him, and quiet yips like a puppy left his maw.

Soap snorted at the sight and opened the false wall the rest of the way to find that the separator that closed off the small cubby to the front of the van was closed as well. You kneeled down with the dog, whispering quietly to him as you fought to calm him down. When Soap opened the front false wall you glanced up to see Konig’s wide eyes staring from the passenger seat as he said, “Is the dog calmed down now?” His voice was a little higher in pitch than normal, like he was trying to hide his fear.

Your head tilted as Soap gave a slow nod, brows from around the back furrowed in confusion at Konig’s comment. The Sergeant stepped out of the way so Konig could see you with Cerberus on the ground, his belly up in the air in front of you. “I thought he was going to eat me. He did not like your yelling Captain, scared me to death,” you hid your smile as you pressed a free hand into your mouth. The other still running soothingly over the dog’s stomach.

John huffed and shook his head, “S’pose not. Speck needed to hear it though,” he grumbled as he found himself a seat against the wall and Konig made his way into the back once more. Everyone seemed to settle down after that, tiredness after a mission nearly being absolutely fucked weighing on everyone’s frayed nerves.

The only place left for you to sit as everyone piled into the little cubby of the van though was of course next to John. No sense in drawing this awkwardness out though, best not to make it obvious how averse you were to taking a seat beside the brunette. It wasn’t lost on him though, you felt his gaze on you, scalding your face with heat. When you glanced his way though he crossed his arms over his chest, shut his eyes, and tilted his head back against the cool metal of the van. You had a feeling you would end up regretting your decision to stay behind when he got the chance to get you alone later.

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ilovecupcakesandtea · 1 month

Text

Chapter one Chapter four My master list

Title: Chapter three

Word Count: 1397

Archive Warnings: Smut in future chapters. Slight angst. Alcohol misuse.

Rating: E

Pairing(s): Eddie Munson/Steve Harrington Robin Buckley/Chrissy Cunningham

Character(s): Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington, Robin Buckley, Chrissy Cunningham, Benny, Uncle Wayne & The Party

Tags: Smut. Angst. Steddie. Buckingham. Steve Harrington. Eddie Munson. Robin Buckley. Chrissy Cunningham. Band AU. TW Alcohol use.

Summary (optional): Two different styles of music, two boys that really don't like each other. What could possibly go wrong?

Beta Reader: Thank you so much to my beautiful beta readers @slippy-slip @ladydarklord & @dontwasteyourchances

Art link and credit: Art is by the wonderfully talented @pink-luna-moth (as is the banner)

Fic link and credit: Ao3 Link

AN: First off thank you to Alex for the art and being just amazing to work alongside. Thank you to Slip for dragging me back from the edge so many times over this. I really am so excited to have this out here!!

I wrote this for the @strangerthingsreversebigbang event and had a lot of fun doing so!!

Divider links: reblog and music notes

A week later saw Eddie and Chrissy in her garage moving boxes around and laying a huge blanket over a couch to make the space bigger and more comfortable. Both of them had brought their own amps and set them up too. They had even found an old mini fridge and stocked it with chocolate, cans of soda, and bottles of water ready for practice.

"Hey bunny" Robin greeted Chrissy with a kiss as soon as she stepped into the garage later that evening,

"Stop being so gross and put each other down." Eddie grumbled at the pair.

"No need to be so homophobic, Munson" came the response of Steve as he also walked to the garage.

"Yes, me, a bit of a whore in the local gay scene, homophobic, that checks out." Eddie rolled his eyes before he walked away and picked his guitar up and made sure it was in tune.

"Chrissy, where did you want me to set this up?" Steve asked Chrissy, pointing down at the big bag he had brought in with him.

"Towards the back, kind of centre if you want, makes the most sense," Chrissy answered, pointing at a vague space towards the middle of the garage.

“So Robin, this is the first time we’ve properly spoken since you started dating my little Chrissy, she won’t tell me so I know it’s got to be embarrassing, how did you and Chrissy get talking enough for you to end up together a few weeks later.” Eddie quizzed, noting Chrissy blushing out of the corner of his eye.

“Oh, there’s not really a lot to tell to be honest, she sat next to me on the bus, asked me what I was listening to, I said The Clash, she said she loves them, we listened together and then switched between our styles of music” Robin shrugged as Chrissy got redder and redder.

“Fuck off did she, what a lying little bitch. Christina Cunningham, why would you tell such a lie? You hate The Clash, always have .” Eddie cackled, turning to look at Chrissy who was bright red and trying to hide behind her hair.

“I just wanted to listen to music with the cute girl from band, ok? so sue me.” She replied, sighing, his reaction was exactly why she hadn’t told Eddie the full story when he asked weeks ago. “Can we just play something now please?”

Five minutes later and the band was ready to start playing together. Steve sat behind his drums and everyone else picked up their instruments.

"Chrissy, you want to start a beat on the bass? Steve, try not to sound like shit ok, we all know punk drums are a mess and don't hold a rhythm." Eddie said, getting himself comfortable with his guitar.

Chrissy started with a beat that Steve apparently knew the drums to, and soon enough Eddie was leaning into the mic and singing.

"I sit around and watch the tube But nothing's on I change the channels for an hour or two Twiddle my thumbs just for a bit I'm sick of all the same old shit In a house with unlocked doors and I'm fuckin' lazy" Eddie sang as he started to play the guitar with it.

"Bite my lip and close my eyes Take me away to paradise I'm so damn bored, I'm going blind And I smell like shit" Robin joined in the singing and playing her own guitar with him.

The four of them played the whole song and didn't miss a beat, ending with all four of them laughing.

Steve and Eddie caught each other's eyes and stopped laughing straight away.

"I guess for a couple punks you two can play well enough" Eddie sniffed, putting his guitar down and heading to the mini-fridge.

"The fuck is your problem, Munson?" Steve asked defensively.

"I just don't want us sounding just like noise, bad noise at that when we play." Eddie replied, whilst drinking his water.

"So what? All punk is just bad noise to you?" Steve questioned, standing up from his drums clearly unimpressed.

"Yeah, it is. Just bad drums, bad guitar, bad vocals. I guess it’s good that most punk songs are really short." Eddie shrugged.

"Fuck you, punk is more than the music, more than the drums, guitar, and vocals. It's about the people, the lyrics, the message behind the songs." Steve seethed, moving towards Eddie.

"Oh yeah, because metal isn't political at all?" Eddie asked, raising an eyebrow.

"It's really not," Steve responded, clearly pissed off at the other brunette.

"Alright princess, sit down and let me play a few songs for you that show you that a song can be both political and actually good." Eddie rolled his eyes and grabbed his phone.

"No, enough of this dick-measuring contest, ok. Either shut the fuck up so we can continue to play or take this tension to a bedroom, giving you 5 seconds to decide." Chrissy said loudly, pointing between the two of them.

"Chris, baby, we both know they aren't going to fuck just yet. They need to pretend to hate each other first before it happens" Robin laughed.

Both boys stepped away from each other. Eddie drank more of his water and Steve went to grab his own, throwing one to Robin who caught it without looking.

"I'm down to play more if Munson can stop being a bitch and play something that isn't just loud guitar and screaming." Steve shrugged, sitting down behind the drums again.

"I give it 3 weeks before they're fucking" Robin giggled, earning her a death glare from Steve.

“Well that was fun,” Robin said sitting in the passenger seat of Steve’s car. “It was really nice to spend more time with Chrissy. I still haven’t asked her to be my girlfriend by the way. Do you think she’ll say yes? I’m not sure she wants that.” she continued to ramble.

“It was something, I really hope he gets that stick out of his ass before next practice, I can't be bothered with that each time. But yes, she will say yes if you ask her out.” Steve said, sounding exasperated.

“You just want the stick out of his ass so you can stick…”

“You can walk home if you finish that sentence,” Steve interrupted her.

Robin laughed, buckled her belt, and sat back in her seat. Steve sighed, started the car, and drove her home. Neither of them talked about how right she was.

“Eddie, can you play nicely with Steve next time we have practice? I’d really like this band thing to work, ok? Even if it doesn't really go anywhere I want to have fun and enjoy this.” Chrissy pleaded.

“Fine I’ll play with the punk jock so you can have fun with your girlfriend” Eddie replied dodging a half-empty bottle Chrissy threw at him before falling over dramatically. “Tell my mother I love her,” he said, throwing himself to the ground clutching his arm.

“Lord help me” Chrissy laughed.

The following week after the first practice found them all sat around in Chrissy’s garage talking about the band and the music they should play.

“We write enough songs between us, we could just do original stuff. I will say this isn't bad, Munson” Steve commented, reading through Eddie’s finished songs and notes for other songs.

“Approval from Harrington, just what I've always wanted” Eddie replied, rolling his eyes.

“Eddie for fuck’s sake, that's enough. He was being nice and you were a peanut head! That wasn't nice at all.” Chrissy snapped, punching his arm lightly.

“Yeah, you're right. I'm sorry” Eddie mumbled in the direction of Steve.

“Shall we talk about band names?” Robin put in, trying to change the subject.

“ My list for names so far is this,” Eddie said, turning to a page in his notebook and turning it so everyone could read.

Corroded Coffin

Be My Coffin

Your Coffin

Six Feet Under

Corroding My Coffin

Distort Mission

“They all suck to various degrees” Chrissy replied, pushing the notebook back towards Eddie.

The four of them sat around for another 20 minutes or so discussing band names before Robin finally suggested The Spitfires.

“Yes, I love it,” Chrissy said excitedly.

“Of course you love the only one Robin suggests” Steve commented, rolling his eyes, earning him a laugh from Eddie.

#eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #steddie #robin buckley #steve x eddie #stranger things fanfiction #chrissy cunningham #buckingham #steddie fic #steddie fanfic #stranger things reverse big bang #tw alcohol #tw smut #smut

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narumi-gens · 1 year

Text

Triptych | "They called me a villain."

Chisaki Kai x f!Reader

summary: Your life is nothing more than a triptych, a work of art in three parts with each panel depicting a distinct period — a beginning, a middle, an end. And in the triptych that is your life, the central figure has always been Chisaki Kai.

chapter warnings: 18+ minors/ageless/blank blogs dni, yandere, possessive behavior, bullying, violence, complicated family dynamics

words: 3.2k

notes: this is from a non-chronological series so the parts can be read in any order.

SERIES MASTERLIST

minors, blank, and ageless blogs do not like, comment, or reblog

The Beginning

The classroom is loud with the sound of third-graders packing up their belongings and emptying the room as the school day comes to an end. You quickly rush to pack your own backpack, a stark contrast to your classmates who are laughing with their friends. The quicker you leave, the more likely you are to avoid any form of attention.

You’re trying so hard to remain invisible that you completely miss your name repeatedly being called. It’s only when a balled-up piece of paper hits the side of your head that you startle before freezing.

The loud burst of giggles that follows your reaction catches your attention and you look at the group of four girls that are crowded around one desk. You glance around the room to see that other than a few stragglers, you’re on your own.

“Sorry. Were you talking to me?” you ask nervously, your eyes darting down to your backpack where your fingers are fidgeting with the zipper. Another round of muffled giggles has your cheeks burning with embarrassment.

“You look so scared,” Hana, the girl at the center of the group and almost certainly the one to have thrown the paper ball at you, teases. “We’re not gonna hurt you or anything.”

You chew on your bottom lip anxiously, fighting the instinct to curl in on yourself defensively.

“Sorry,” you repeat, the word sounding small. “What did you say?”

“What’s your Quirk? We’re trying to decide whose is the coolest,” Hana says before rolling her eyes. “But I don’t know why we’re bothering, mine is definitely the best.”

With a smug smile, she holds up her hand, palm facing up, and looks at it for a few moments. As she continues to concentrate, her skin begins to turn soft pink and beautiful cherry blossoms start to very slowly emerge from her palm.

“Ahh, Hana-chan! Your Quirk is so pretty,” Hana’s best friend, Miyoko, gushes as the other girls sitting around her join in with their own sounds of awe.

“So, what’s your Quirk?” Hana asks you, not looking away from her hand where a small pile of cherry blossoms continues to slowly grow.

“Oh, it’s nothing special,” you mumble, self-consciously dropping your gaze to your shoes. “Definitely nothing like yours.”

“Obviously. No one’s is like mine,” Hana scoffs. “So, what is it?”

The group of girls look away from Hana’s petals and toward you expectantly. Unsure what else you can do, you start to toy with the zipper of your backpack.

“Um, it’s called Immunity?” you tentatively answer, although it sounds much more like a question. The girls all look at you with confusion.

“Immunity?” one of the girls, Saori, asks.

“Quirks don’t work on me,” you explain and something about their curiosity gives you just the little bit of courage you needed.

You walk towards Hana’s desk and reach out to touch her hand and demonstrate your Quirk. The moment that your finger touches her, her skin returns to its normal color and the seemingly unending flow of cherry blossoms comes to a sudden halt.

“Wow,” Miyoko breathes with wide eyes and you shyly smile.

With everyone’s attention now on you and your eyes timidly starting back down at the floor, no one sees the way Hana crushes the delicate cherry blossoms in her hand as she makes an angry fist.

“Yeah, so if someone tries to use their Quirk on me or I touch someone using their Quirk, then it stops working,” you continue.

You glance up to see that the girls are all looking at you with keen interest and you feel a small flutter in your stomach. Maybe your Quirk has opened the door. Maybe this is your chance. Maybe now they’ll finally see you as one of them.

But the small ray of hope is blocked and an overwhelming pit of anxiety that you’re all too familiar with replaces it at Hana’s next words.

“That’ll be really useful when you become a villain!” she points out, a deep maliciousness lurking just underneath her enthusiastic tone.

Your gaze immediately drops back down as you silently beg for the floor to open up and swallow you whole — anything to disappear from this moment.

“The heroes won’t be able to use their Quirks to stop you so you can do whatever you want!” Hana says eagerly. Following her lead, the other girls begin to laugh, any trace of interest in your Quirk now gone.

“Yeah! That’s a villain’s Quirk,” the fourth girl, Naomi, eagerly agrees. You can feel your face heating and you grip tightly onto the fabric of your uniform’s skirt.

“I’m not gonna be a villain,” you protest, your voice small.

“You’re already a villain,” Hana scoffs, making the other girls giggle again. “My mom told me to stay away from you. She said your whole family is dangerous.”

You weakly shake your head, angry with yourself as your vision starts to sting with unshed tears.

“We’re not villains,” you mumble and you hear the screeching of a chair scraping across the floor as Hana stood up.

“The people who go into your house don’t come out alive,” she gleefully crows as she approaches you.

“Sounds like a villain to me, Hana-chan,” Saori comments, egging her on and you furiously rub your eyes to get rid of your tears.

“The heroes will probably get you soon, though,” Hana muses as her shoes come into your line of sight now that she’s standing directly in front of you. “They’ll get you and your whole family. They’ll lock them up in the villain prison.”

Despite the two of you being the same height, it seems like she’s looming over you as you continue to shrink in on yourself.

“Hey, Saori. Doesn’t your uncle work at the villain prison?” Hana turns back to her friend group to casually ask.

“Yeah, I heard him telling my dad about it. He said it’s awful. That the villains are locked up alone all day and no one can visit,” Saori answers and her words strike something deep inside of you.

“That’s what’s gonna happen to you and your whole villain family,” Hana says, focusing her attention and cruelty back on you. “They’re all gonna get thrown in there with no way out so you’ll be all alone, whether they get you or not.”

She then gives your shoulder a rough shove, causing you to stumble backward and the rest of the girls laugh at your expense. You flinch in anticipation as she reaches up to do it again but everyone freezes when your name is called from the doorway.

“Ch-Chisaki-kun,” Hana greets, nervousness in her voice as she turns her back to you so that she can face him. Blocked from his sight behind Hana, you quickly brush away the tears from your cheeks and eyes, trying to remove any evidence of what Kai is interrupting.

“What are you doing?” he asks, his tone dangerous even for a child.

The girls are all suspiciously silent, looking to Hana to come up with the excuse that will keep Kai’s anger at bay.

“We were just having fun,” Hana replies, the other girls nodding in agreement. She then looks at you with menacing and expectant eyes. “Isn’t that right?”

Your gaze remains trained on the floor, your toes curling anxiously inside of your shoes before you nod weakly as well.

“Yeah, don’t worry, Kai. We were just having fun,” you murmur, your voice sounding dull to your own ears. You can feel the frustration rolling off of Hana in waves at how unconvincing you are.

But she then returns to her desk and finally begins to pack up her things, the other three girls seizing the opportunity to follow suit and escape Kai’s attention.

“We were just talking about our Quirks. She’s got a cool one. There’s a lot she could do with it,” Hana continues, but you can hear what she’s really saying.

‘A lot she could do with it as a villain.’

“Well, we should get going,” she tells him as she swings her backpack over her shoulders, the other girls copying her actions. She gives you a friendly wave goodbye. “See you tomorrow.”

If you looked up, then you would have seen the ugly look she’s sending you. But, too scared to look anywhere that isn’t the floor, it goes unnoticed. The four girls then slip past Kai, who remains standing in the doorway. He follows them with narrowed eyes until they turn the corner in the hallway and disappear from sight.

Now alone in the empty classroom with Kai, you let out the breath you’ve been holding.

“What were they doing?” he asks, breaking the silence as he walks toward you.

“Nothing,” you mumble.

Instead of stopping before you, Kai moves past you. A few moments later, your backpack appears in front of you as he holds it out. You grab onto the handle, but when you try to take it from him, he holds onto it tightly. You look up at him with confusion.

“What were they doing?” he repeats and you drop your gaze back to the floor.

“They called me a villain,” you whisper and you hurriedly wipe away the tears that are brimming your eyes. Your next words feel heavy on your tongue, not wanting to have to repeat them aloud. “They said my Quirk was perfect for a villain because I can stop heroes.”

In your periphery, you can see the way Kai’s free hand curls into angry fists. You want to reach out and cover it with yours to try and calm him, but are too timid to actually do so.

“They don’t know what they’re talking about,” he snaps, his tone harsh enough that it has you flinching away from him despite knowing that his temper isn’t directed at you — it never is. “They think their Quirks are so special? They want to be heroes?”

You shrug, unable to answer him. Your mind is still wrapped up in Hana’s last insult to you.

“Hana said that the heroes were gonna put us all in the villain prison,” you say, your voice trembling.

“That’s never gonna happen. We’re yakuza, not villain dirt,” Kai replies.

“She said you would all go to prison and then I’d be left all alone,” you continue softly as if he hadn’t spoken. And somehow, your next question manages to sound even more pitiful. “You won’t leave me alone, right?”

“Never,” he assures you and you give a small nod in thanks.

There’s a long pause before Kai finally relinquishes his hold on your backpack so that it falls to your side, your fingers wrapped around the handle tightly.

“I’ll make sure they don’t bother you again,” he tells you and you nervously shake your head.

“Please don’t. They’ll just make fun of me more if you do,” you protest weakly. It wouldn’t be the first time Kai’s protectiveness had only worsened the bullying. When he remains silent, you beg him again. “Please, Kai.”

He exhales loudly and you glance up to see that although he looks unhappy, he doesn’t seem like he’s going to argue with you.

“Fine,” he grumbled, starting to turn away from you before pausing. “But if it happens again, I’ll make them sorry.”

Just as he begins to walk away, you instinctively reach out and grab the back of his shirt — a habit of yours that’s grown over time.

“Thank you for stopping them,” you murmur and you’re embarrassed when your eyes begin to sting with tears again as you remember just how scared you had been of their bullying. “They would have kept going if you weren’t there.”

“I’ll always stop them,” he promises.

“I know,” you say with a watery smile and a soft sniffle.

Kai turns around, causing you to let go of your hold on his shirt. He then interlaces his fingers with your now free ones and tugs you along after him out of the classroom. With him at your side, you finally feel safe enough to face the remaining students lingering through the hallways with their friends.

As long as Kai is with you, none of them would dare approach you. He’s your shield from the bullies who are intent on making your life a living hell.

But whatever sense of safety he gives you is quick to disappear the next morning when you walk into the classroom to find the classmates who are already present surrounding your desk. The mixture of laughter and chatter is deafening as dread settles heavily in your stomach.

They seem to slowly realize you’ve arrived because a path begins to open, allowing you to make your way through the crowd to your desk. You freeze, your heart dropping to the floor when you see why your desk has drawn so much attention.

In black marker, the word ‘VILLAIN’ is scrawled across its surface.

You can’t move and can’t look away. It’s through tears that you see the single cherry blossom petal on your chair.

The following events pass by in a blur, your shame and humiliation clouding your mind so thickly that it feels like there’s a wall keeping you insulated from everything that follows.

Your teacher’s gentle hand on your shoulder leads you from the classroom to the principal’s office. Your father picks you up from school and his comforting words fall on deaf ears. You curl up in your bed, hiding away from the rest of the world. Your housekeeper comes by intermittently to drop off tea, then lunch, then an afternoon snack — all of it going untouched.

None of it feels like it’s real.

You’re simply in a dream, a nightmare.

You’ve convinced yourself so thoroughly that you’ll wake up and everything will be fine that when you feel the duvet being lifted and someone small sliding into your bed behind you, you think that this must be part of your dream as well.

“I made her pay,” Kai’s voice breaks through your haze, his words wrapping you up like a security blanket. “They don’t get to hurt you.”

Silence settles over you, the rest of the afternoon and evening quickly slipping by until your housekeeper gently wakes you the next morning. You don’t even remember falling asleep. When you try to pull your duvet over your head, she pulls it back.

“I know you don’t want to, but your father said you need to go to school today,” she says, her tone soft and kind, as if she’s speaking to a wounded animal. “I’m sorry. I wish I could keep you here, but he said that you needed to present them with a brave face.”

With eyes swollen from all the crying that you’ve done and a head so heavy that it feels like it’s filled with cement, you simply nod and sit up. You’re too tired — and too obedient of a daughter — to argue with your father’s demand.

You go slowly through the motions of getting ready. Too anxious to eat the breakfast that’s laid out before you at Kai’s side, you play absently with your chopsticks until he’s ready to leave.

With your hand in his, the pair of you silently walk to school. When you reach the gates, your feet still and it’s only his tug on your hand that has you following behind him once more. You keep your eyes trained on your shoes, unable to look up and meet anyone’s gaze as you hear them whispering when you pass. When you both arrive at your classroom, he tries to let go of your hand but you cling to him tightly.

“It’s okay. No one will bother you,” he tells you and you glance up to meet his eyes. He looks so certain that after a long moment, you let go of his hand and he nods encouragingly.

Dropping your gaze again, you walk into the classroom. The relief you feel when you see that you’ve been given a brand-new desk calms you slightly. But your anxiety still remains largely unchecked as your classmates’ unintelligible whispers continue.

It’s only once you’re seated in your chair and can finally hear what the girl who sits behind you is saying that your sense of panic begins to abate, realizing that the whispers aren’t about you.

“...broke her leg,” she hisses across the aisle to the boy sitting next to her.

“How?” he asks curiously.

“She fell down the stairs. One of the teachers found her. They had to call an ambulance and everything,” she tells him and it feels like someone has poured a bucket of ice-cold water over you.

‘I made her pay.’

The words that Kai told you last night, the ones that you thought were part of your dream, the ones that made you feel so safe, ring in your ears.

“I saw the teachers all around her. I could see her bone!” one of your classmates loudly interrupts her, eager to show off, and she lets out a loud sound of disgust.

“No, you didn’t!” she argues.

“Yes, I did!” he retorts, angry that she doesn’t believe him. “It was so gross! And she wouldn’t stop crying and screaming.”

“Duh, she fell down the stairs and broke her leg. Wouldn’t you cry and scream?” the first boy points out.

The three of them continue to gossip with your back turned to them. All of it starts to blur together until you hear one of them finally say her name, confirming just who was at the center of the school’s gossip.

“Do you think Hana-chan can walk?”

“She probably just has to get a cast or something. I had to get one when I broke my arm last year,” you hear the girl reply before their whispering fades back into an indecipherable buzz to your ears.

As you look down at your clean desktop, you use your finger to write out the word that was scrawled across your old desk yesterday.

VILLAIN.

You then quickly wipe your hand over its surface, like doing so will erase both the word and the memory.

Maybe you should feel bad about what happened to Hana but all you can think about is how she had thrown that word around at you on an almost daily occurrence and how much time you’ve spent crying because of it.

And when she returns to class a couple of weeks later in a wheelchair and refuses to look in your direction, you decide that what happened to her — what Kai did to her — is alright.

Isn’t she the real villain? She tormented you. She laughed at you. She made you cry. She made sure no one would be your friend. Heroes don’t do that. Heroes are the ones who protect people from that.

And Kai is the one who protected you. It doesn’t matter that he fights with other students. It doesn’t matter that they’re scared of him. It doesn’t matter that he’s going to lead the yakuza one day.

Kai protected you from your villain.

And for that, you decide that Kai will always be your hero.

#tw yandere #tw bullying #overhaul x reader #overhaul #chisaki kai #chisaki kai x reader #bnha #bnha x reader #mha x reader #mha #my hero academia x reader #my hero academia #boku no hero acedamia #boku no hero academia x reader #triptych #mel writes

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valmare · 6 months

Text

✨ to anyone who bothers to read my stuffs✨

this is just a little update to tell you—i’m going through some stuff. some writer-person things. been actively struggling with this for a few months, now, which is why writing updates from me have all but dropped off.

writer’s sometimes go through this transition phase of where we’re in our lane for a hot minute but then we hit a brick wall. like, full force, ram-that-f14-right-into-the-wall kinda brick wall. i, personally, sometimes loose the plot and get into this groove where when I sit down to write, it doesn’t feel like me. it feels claustrophobic or plain, messy and just not right. like clothes that “work” but aren’t “it,” that make you just the slightest bit uncomfortable and you think you can deal with it, but in reality, it’s just going to bother you all day and sit right in the forefront of your headspace.

that’s where i am, right now, with writing.

for a couple of weeks i’ve been so caught up in trying to sound and write like everyone else that i’ve kinda just…lost the plot. i’ve been pulling at this shirt in all its troublesome places and it still just doesn’t fit right. something is off, and i’m gonna get to the bottom of it. i think i just need to sit down, re-read some of the stuff i was definitely confident in, and clear my headspace on the blank page and just…write.

there’s so much pressure to perform and please and rack up the numbers on top of everything else i’m currently dealing with in my headspace that writing has become, well—it’s felt like a chore. a fight. like i’m Maverick dogfighting a gen 5, out of ammo and out of options. it’s hard and it hurts; is ugly and making me second guess myself in ways that I haven’t in a long time. i don’t like it, want it to go away, and i’m gonna figure it out.

that said, i think i’m going to pull my latest Val piece that I started because while it’s workable, it isn’t up to my standard. yeah, sure, some people have feral-reblogged it and commented, and i am insatiably grateful for that, but it’s a personal thing. if i am not smiling-proud of it and being like, “wow, can’t believe i wrote that!” then it isn’t it, fam. maybe it’s a me thing, perhaps others get it. regardless, i want to work at it more, and make it really shine.

which brings me to a piece i most definitely want to dive back into: abstracts. my beautiful love letter to Val himself; i as a personal thing, absolutely need to finish this story. it’s been crawling around my head for God knows how long and at mach 10, so it needs to get out on paper. i have so much i want to accomplish with Ice and his art girlie, that it just needs to happen. if i can get back in my lane.

this is a whole ‘lotta rambling to let you know i’m in a funk. and if you’ve made it this far, thank you for bearing with me. almost 400 followers in this space is wild and unheard of, i can barely believe it. i really wanna get this dialed in so i can do something special for my 400 followers celebration that will inevitably come down the pike.

anyway, ya’ll are beautiful, sorry for being such a crash and burning writer-girl mess.

xoxoxo,

mare

#mare writes things #mare rambles #writing update #i'll figure it out #val kilmer #writblr #writing things #writing is hard #on writing #writer community #writer things #writer problems

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ellethespaceunicorn · 9 months

Text

Scrapbook: Epilogue

Title: Your Eyes Look Like Coming Home (Epilogue)

Rating: Mature, 18+, Minors - DNI

Pairing: Mike x Black!OFC (Dimples)

Fandom: Hellraiser: Hellworld

Word Count: 1.8K

Summary: A collection of moments with Mike and Daisy (Dimples) and their daughter Aisha (Honey).

Chapter Summary: When Honey turns 2, Mike and Dimples have to make an announcement. When Mike turns 25, Dimples gifts him something special.

Warnings: tooth-rotting fluff

A/N: This is the end of the road, folks. Thank you to everyone who stuck around for this little story. I hope you enjoy! Unbeta’d, we die like people who tried their best.

Dividers by Me

Support/Reblog banner by Me

Cover Art by Me

Spotify Playlist is here.

Series Masterlist

My Masterlist

One Year Later

“Happy Birthday to you!” Everyone is gathered around Honey while she sits in her highchair with a tiny cake all to herself, made by Auntie Erika. She waits until everyone is done singing before she blows out her two candles. She claps along with everyone else when they cheer for her. Digging into the cake with her hands, Mike and Dimples have their cameras out taking photos of their daughter.

After everyone has their cake and Honey opens all her gifts, the party starts to die down a little. Cherie takes Honey inside to play with her toys and the grownups sit outside in the backyard. While Dimples and the ladies are busy getting all the trash together, Mike sits with his grandpa Gus, his father, and his uncle.

“So, when are you two gonna tell us about the baby?” Gus starts, nursing a beer like he hadn’t just put Mike on the spot.

“Tell you about what baby?” Mike asks, unconvincingly.

“Walter, look at that girl. Tell me that isn’t the tell-tale sign of a bump.” Gus nudges Mike’s elbow while Mike looks to his dad for help.

“Gus, leave the boy alone. If they’re not ready to announce it, they’re not ready. Simple as that.” Walter shrugs and pats Mike’s knee.

“It’s gonna be a boy.” Sy offers, and Mike’s eyes widen.

The other three men look at Sy in disbelief, wondering how he could possibly know the sex of a baby that wasn’t even confirmed yet.

“Well, her skin is still clear. And it looks like she’s carrying low. When she was pregnant with Honey, she carried high and had acne. Just like Nettie did with Cherie. I mean, it could be an old wives’ tale. But it still came true twice, so...” Sy trails off and laughs with the older men while Mike nods and laughs to himself.

When he looks up, Dimples is walking over and pulling him away from everyone.

“They know. Nettie and Hope know I’m pregnant and I didn’t have to tell them at all.” Dimples almost shrieks when she tells Mike that their happy announcement is kind of ruined.

“Yeah, Grandpa Gus and Dad and Uncle Sy pointed it out as well. Oh, and Sy says we’ll have a boy which is exciting.” Mike tries to lighten the mood and Dimples chuckles despite herself.

Honey comes running out of the house behind them holding her favorite pink triceratops. She runs into Mike’s legs and raises her arms up. “Daddy up pwease?” Cherie comes out of the house shortly after, going to sit between Sy and Nettie.

“Come here, Honey,” Mike picks her up and gives her a bunch of kisses on her face and Honey bursts into a fit of giggles. Mike holds Honey and grabs Dimples’ hand and walks over to where the other adults are sitting.

“Daddy? When baby coming?” Mike and Dimples look at each other and realize there is no point in hiding it anymore.

“Seems like everybody already knows, but just to make it official, Dimples just made it through her first trimester a couple of days ago with our second baby.” Mike kisses Dimples’ temple and pulls her close.

“I’m very emotional right now. So, please don’t take my crying for being upset. I’m actually really happy, I promise.” Dimples wipes at her eyes and the group of adults laugh and stand up giving hugs all around.

Grandpa Gus watches as his family grows larger by the minute.

Six Months Later

Henry “Bubba” Marshall is born at 9 lbs 10 oz and 21 inches long. Mike is so proud of himself that he didn’t faint at all during this pregnancy. He cut the umbilical cord and is surprised at how big this baby is. When the doctor laid him on Dimples’ chest, it is a miracle she could hold him.

Mike and Dimples name Evan and Hope as godparents for Bubba. Grandpa Gus makes his way past the rest of the family so he can see his great-grandson. When he finally sits down and is handed Bubba, he chokes up. A few silent tears fall, and he laughs a bit to himself.

“Grandpa Gus, you okay?” Mike asks from his perch on the side of Dimples’ hospital bed.

“I just can’t believe how handsome he is. Just like his father, his father before him, and me of course. I guess he had no choice but to be a looker,” Gus chuckles and looks down as Bubba yawns and shifts in his arms, “Also, this boy is big as hell. He is gonna eat you out of house and home. Good luck with that.”

“Gus, don’t scare them,” Walter walks over and pats Mike’s shoulder before leaning in to whisper, “But you know he’s not gonna fit any of that newborn clothing you got for him, right?”

Mike and Dimples look at each other and can’t help but laugh at their little predicament.

Another Six Months Later

At Honey’s 3rd birthday party, Bubba crawls around the party. And boy, is he fast! He keeps not only Mike and Dimples on their toes. But he also keeps his big sister busy trying to keep her toys out of his mouth.

“Bubba, no! Don’t eat Pinky!” Honey takes her pink triceratops out of her brother’s hands and replaces it with one of his Little Peoples toys.

When Mike and Dimples catch up to where the two kids have gotten to, they are out of breath. Honey can only laugh which makes Bubba laugh. And the chain reaction sends their parents into a giggling fit as well.

“Daddy? Can we open presents now?” Honey asks, trying to wrangle her brother into staying in one place.

“I think that is a perfect idea, Honey.” Mike picks up Honey while Dimples picks up Bubba and they make their way over to the oversized present pile.

Bubba tries his best to help open gifts but ends up playing with the wrapping paper and the boxes that Honey’s toys come in. Nothing makes Bubba happier than making his big sister laugh and Honey loves to play with her little brother. She treats him like her own personal baby doll, and he adores her for it.

After the party dies down and the backyard is cleaned up, Mike decides to take a nap on the couch. Honey and Bubba were playing in the living room but when they see Daddy laying down, they decide to crawl on top of him. At first, they try to wake him up but when that doesn’t work, they just get comfy and go to sleep as well.

Dimples comes into the living room when she notices it’s oddly quiet. The sight she happens upon makes her swoon. Mike is sprawled out on the couch; Honey is laying on her back across his chest while Bubba is wrapped around Mike’s thigh. Their soft snores are filling the room and it’s the cutest thing Dimples has ever seen.

She takes out her phone to capture the moment and another idea pops into her head for what to do for Mike’s birthday gift. Putting her phone away, she pries Bubba from around Mike’s thigh and gently wakes Mike so he can put Honey to bed as well. Mike and Dimples go to bed, and they are both so tired that they just cuddle up to one another and are asleep within moments.

A Few Months Later

Getting Mike out of the house for most of the day is the trickiest part of Dimples’ plan. She gets Walter and Sy to take him to lunch and a movie. When he comes back home, the house is too quiet and too dark, so he goes into the backyard to look for his family.

He is genuinely shocked when everyone jumps out and shouts “Happy Birthday!” Dimples runs up to him with the kids following her. He hugs and kisses all of them, so happy to see that they (mostly Dimples) planned a surprise party for him.

Mike makes his way around the guests at the party and thanks them for coming. Looking around the backyard, he notices that photos are lining the fence around the yard. Moving closer to one photo, he smiles to himself and wonders how Dimples got this one.

“I hope you don’t mind I took that one from your phone. It’s one of my favorites,” Dimples is at his side, looking at the photo that Mike took of the day Honey was born and they were still in the hospital room. It was the day they became a family, “If you like that one, you’re gonna love your gift.”

Mike just looks at her and smiles, feeling so lucky to have her as his spouse. Dimples grabs his hand and brings him over to the present pile. She hands him a large box and wishes him a happy birthday once again.

Taking the box, he sits down to open it. Inside the box is a beautiful leather-bound book. Mike opens it and is surprised to see photos of himself. The photos include moments of his childhood, of his and Dimples’ wedding, and over the years with the kids. With every page he turns, he is transported to different moments of his life. The last page that is decorated has a large photo from Honey’s 3rd birthday with Mike asleep on the couch with the kids asleep on him.

“I really hope you like this scrapbook baby. I figure we can keep adding memories to it with photos or paintings from Honey and Bubba. So, do you like it?” Dimples asks, her sweet face showing her hopeful expression.

“I love it, Dimples. I love you so much. This is such a great gift! I can’t believe you got all these memories together. Thank you, baby.” Mike hugs her and kisses her neck.

“You are very welcome, Mikey. I love you too. Now, I suggest we do cake soon, the kids will have their sugar crash then you can see the other gift I got you for your birthday.” Dimples wraps her arms around his neck and waggles her eyebrows.

“Would this gift happen to be on the sexy side of things?” Mike looks around before grabbing a handful of Dimples’ backside.

“Oh, my goodness, Mike! You'll find out later. Now, enjoy your party and be patient and you’ll be rewarded handsomely.” Dimples pecks his lips and walks away to wrangle up everyone for cake.

Mike watches her walk away to get the kids where they are hanging off Grandpa Gus. Looking around, he is surrounded by everyone he loves. He is so lucky to have a wonderful wife, adorable kids, and a loving extended family. He smiles to himself and realizes he won’t have much to wish for when he blows out his candles.

And that’s not a bad problem to have.

A/N: Now, does this make up for Make That Kitty Purr? Can I write other Mike stories now? The song for this chapter is Everything Has Changed by Taylor Swift (feat. Ed Sheeran).

**Tag List**

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@astheskycries @enchantedbytomandhenry @rebelangel1102

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boogiewrites · 2 years

Text

Seeing Stars Part 3

Characters: Eddie Munson x OFC Star

Summary: Eddie starts to see past the hard-ass Star makes herself out to be. She opens herself up bit by bit and is surprised to find that Eddie doesn't run when he finds out she is, in fact, a normal human with emotions like everyone else.

Comment & Reblog to let me know you like it and want more Eddie content!

Part 1 if you missed it!

Warnings/Triggers: Drug use. Hurt/Comfort. Bullying. Lots of talking, flirting, bonding. Mentions of PTSD and past trauma. Soft!Eddie.

A loud meow from her cat, Moon couldn’t be heard over the boom box on top of the counter over Star’s head. She was bent over ass in the air as she put the finishing touches on a presentation for class. The meows of Moon awoke Ozzy, her black tough-lived street cat as he went to check out the cause of the noise. He jumped off the bed and flicked his tail on Star as he passed, she thoughtlessly ran her hand down his head to his tail as he passed before returning to bouncing her body to the beat of Grand Funk Railroad over the stereo. He stood in the doorway, joining in the meowing and chirping at the visitor. Moon sat and swished her tail, her head being pet as she trilled on the back of the bench. Ozzy happily ran around two slim denim-clad legs, rubbing his face onto the well-worn fabric.

Eddie watched as Star sang along to the song playing, sitting back on her feet to assess the posterboard she’d been working on. She wiggled the whole time, throwing her head back and shaking the mess of hair piled on top of her head. She’d then lean back down with her wide-set hips wiggling to the beat as she added flourishes with a marker. Eddie stood quietly, eyes happily taking in the bouncing woman. He’d thought about making the joke of why wasn’t she listening to a certain Queen song while dancing like that but he’d never let himself. She’d made enough jokes about having a fat ass that maybe Fat Bottomed Girls might not be offensive to her. He looked down at Ozzy, his favorite of the two cats, and smirked as it looked like he was being judged by the almost one-eared cat’s narrow eyes. The song decides to change and in the quiet between, he clears his throat, leaning on the doorway with a grin on his face. She turned quickly, her hair falling around her face from her fidgeting about.

“Hey!” her face lit up and he couldn’t act like he didn’t enjoy it when her eyes got bright when she’d see him.

“Still working on that?” he asked, walking in, grabbing the hair knot on top of her head and shaking it.

“I want it to be good. It’s for extra credit so I’m trying to go all out.”

“History class right?”

She nodded, lips pressed together before finishing a corner decoration before deciding it was time to put it away. She looked at the old cat clock on the wall.

“Shit I’ve been working on this way too long.” she let herself groan, her hands on the ground as she raised herself, staying in the position and shaking out her legs before slowly standing and lowering the volume of the music.

“Nerd.” he gave her a big grin as he plopped himself down into her bed, falling into the piles of pillows. At this point, they were comfortable with each other. It was almost October and they’d managed to spend at least one night together a week. She was finally getting into a routine, something stable, and he was reaping the rewards of having her be relaxed.

“At least one of us is gonna graduate.” she retorted, slapping his bent knee.

“Oh!” he grabbed his chest. “Ow.” he acted shocked and shook his head at her. “I am trudging through the moors of Hawkins High and slowly making the hero’s journey towards that diploma.”

“At least you’ve been paying attention in English.” she shrugged and grabbed her stash box.

“I don’t mind English.” he mused, looking to the ceiling, laying back with his hand on his stomach. “How’s art goin’? They covered the bases, catching up after a long week as Star rolled out a few joints. She lit one, taking a long drag before handing it off and falling back on the bed next to him. She nods her head to the music, and Eddie feels her bobbing against his foot with her hip. After they’re sufficiently high, a tradition they were trying to uphold to battle the stress of existing, she turns to her side, facing him with a thoughtful purse of her lips, head on her hand.

“Did you ever listen to that cassette I gave you?”

“No.” he openly admits before she slaps his stomach and he laughs.

“Eddie!”

“I’ve told you a hundred times if it’s not metal I’m not into it.”

“To claim to be so open-minded you’re sure being a tight ass about this.” she shoved him lightly as he slapped her hand and handed her the joint. “It’s Sly and the Family Stone. It’s solid, I swear. You’d like funk if you gave it a chance. The bass is some of the best you’ll ever hear, there are SOLOS for crying out loud!”

“It’s not hard enough.” he spoke with a flippant hand lazily raised.

“It’s not hard enough.” she mocked, him, hopping out of bed and finding a cassette she’d made herself that she knew had a good mix on it.

“You’re gonna ruin my buzz, Star.” He grasped for her but she was already out of reach.

“Then smoke more.” she sassed and switched out the tapes. She plays 'I Want To Take You Higher' and she crosses her arms. Eddie’s attention was drawn immediately. He slowly sat up and with his signature poor posture, he looked at the stereo with bloodshot eyes. “See?” she held her hands out dramatically at the silver box. He narrowed his eyes and took another drag. “You’re such an asshole.” she laughed and loosely slapped his hair.

“I don’t hate it.” he gave with a lit joint in his hand, to accompany his statement. She did a little victory fist pump and it got a smile out of him. “The rhythm is solid. The bass is yeah, it’s…funky.” he chuckled with no other word coming to mind.

“Okay. Good! If you like that how about this?” she had an unsure face but fast-forwarded the tape for a few seconds. She started moving her hips and shoulders, a very basic back and forth weave to the music.

“Nah.” he shook his head.

“It’s fucking Marvin Gaye Eddie! How dare you.” she shook her head and closed her eyes, dancing a little more animatedly.

“Marvin Gaye?”

“Did I stutter?” she says with eyes still closed, arms now slowly raising over her head as she moved.

“Isn’t this the shit older people listen to so they can fuck?” She dropped her hands and stopped moving and glared his way.

“Fuck’s sake.” she rolled her eyes. “You’re thinking of like…” she clicked through the tape, ignoring his shit-eating grin as he reclined back on the bed again. “This.” she points as Barry White 'Can't Get Enough of Your Love' starts to play.

“Yeah, this sucks the most.” he nodded with confidence.

“You uncultured swine.” she shook her head as if she was trying to get his words out of her head. She turned it up louder and started to dance.

“Oh god not this again.” his groan turns into a shout.

“Yes! This again!” she said with wild eyes and let herself get into the beat. The bass and snare kick in and her hips start going. She flips on a switch like a theatre kid and looks at him and mouths the words. She dances toward him and he kicks out his leg to stop her from approaching. She takes his foot and uses it as a microphone.

“I will kick you in the teeth.” he declares laughing.

“Fuckin' do it you two left-footed bitch.” His head falls back with laughter. She throws his legs, and thrusts her hips Saturday Night Fever disco style, making him laugh every time he looks at her, standing almost over him right next to the bed. “C’mon!” she says putting her arms on either side of him, bouncing the bed, and repeating the words. He slaps her away and she grabs his wrists, holding them down. She’s met with a mess of brown wavy hair on his face as he laughs and shouts at her. “You’re gonna dance. I’m gonna teach you. It’s inevitable. Give in!”

“I’ll never surrender!” he rolls, turning his back to her to get away. Her knees hop on the bed and she hunches over him.

“Surrender mortal!” she grabs his ribs, a threat to tickle him.

“If you tickle me I swear to god!” his voice cracks in panic as he rolls back towards her to get her hands off him.

“I will teach you the ways of dance. Come to the dark side.” she wavers his voice like a cartoon ghost.

He grabs her wrists and shakes his head, freeing his face from the curtain of hair.

“No tickling. That’s a rule!” he shakes her hands.

“If you let me teach you I’ll stop bothering you about it. I swear. If you at least TRY.”

“You really want me to dance that bad?”

“I’m desperate here. I don’t have clubs to go to, I don’t have anyone to dance with. There are house parties but there’s all by high schoolers and they don’t know how to dance.” she complained. She retreated and stood, stopping the tape.

“Even if I learn how I’m not gonna dance in a field like some nymph for hours and paint landscapes.” he motions his hand East toward the direction where he had seen her do just that.

“I think it’s important. You love music so much and you can’t dance and it’s downright upsetting.”

“You don’t dance to metal!” he laments and sits up.

“You CAN though.” She wheezes and goes to find another cassette. “If you learned how to move your hips when you play you’d be amazed at the effect it has on women.” This caught his attention. “My mom always said if you can’t dance, you can’t fuck.” she states bluntly, snapping the cassette closed to punctuate her point. “Can you fuck, Eddie?” she puts her hands on her hips, face with its high brows judging him. He met her stare directly with angled high eyes and his mouth in a tight line.

“Fine.” he admits defeat and stands. “Come after a man’s sexual abilities you leave me no choice.”

“Exactly.” she gave him a grin. She bounded to him and mushed his cheeks. “Thank you.” she said sincerely with a little bounce before turning back to the cassette player. “I’ll even play something you know.” she hit play on possibly her favorite Dio song, 'Caught In The Middle'. “So what do you know about dancing?”

“That it's stupid.” He griped with a shake of his head challenging her.

“Okay, so nothing.” she rolled her eyes. “You play guitar, so you have rhythm, you just have to change that into your body. So find the beat.” she started a basic sway with her shoulders. “I’m not even gonna try to teach you anything fast, you’ll never need that.” She walks over to him and shakes his shoulders. “Loosen up.” she insists. “Close your eyes and move your body. Wherever you feel it.”

She stepped back a foot or two, hips moving and eyes closed, her body started to wind like a snake and her hands ran down her body, and was less sure about his choice to give into her. She’d danced plenty around him, if there was music on she was moving.

“Move your hips, side to side, back and forth, doesn’t matter, keep your shoulders moving the opposite.” With closed eyes, she reached out and took him by his hips without hesitation trying to move them to the beat. She attempts this a few beats and opens her eyes and looks down. “Eddie, honey.” she flicked her eyes up to his unsure ones, his chin pushed in and watching her. She lets go and steps back farther. “Let's get a little more literal. Move your hips like you’re having sex.” she directs with two straight arms out.

“I don't…” his brow furrowed and he looked down at himself. “I’ve never thought about how they move.”

“Then it’s time you started.” she crossed her arms. “You’ve had sex to music. Do you follow the beat?”

“Yeah?” he thought about it, eyes shifting around the room.

“Dancing is usually about sex, right? You go dancing at clubs to meet someone. School dances are about an excuse to get close. It’s about communicating with your body and just feeling good in your body when you move it. You’re always bouncing around, you like using your body, focus on that?” She was offering solid advice and he was listening whether he’d meant to originally or not. She was pretty convincing and good at putting things in a way he could understand. “Move like you would normally to a song you like.” as the song changed to something harder she let her head move more, a baby headbang.

Now, this he could do. He places his legs apart, a bent knee, and his hair starts to swing with his head. As the song kept going she watched, he had his chest and shoulders moving, not missing a single beat. He air guitared and his face contorted into a highlighted concentrating expression.

“Yes. Yes yes yes. Great! We’re getting somewhere.” she snaps him out of it with her voice.

“Good?” he asked with a raised brow seeking approval.

“You’ve got some good rhythm for a skinny white metal head.” she smiled. “You’ve got the beat and the upper body, but your lower body doesn’t move at all. So back to the sex thing.” She stood sideways after rewinding the tape.

“You like this song or something?”

“It’s one of my favorites. It’s got a good groove to it. It’s flowier and less stiff. Which is what I’m trying to help but still trying to speak the same musical language as you.” she explained. She stood sideways and put her hand to her lower back and her chest. “I don’t expect you to move like this, but it’s the best example I’ve got. Move your hips like you fuck.” She rolled her body, her hands placed to emphasize where she was moving. She rolled her body and he gulped. His eyes went a bit dazed as the more flowing moment of the song was over.

“Have you ever had sex to this song?” he blatantly asked.

“I haven’t actually. My exes weren’t into metal.” she shook her head.

“Okay cause I’ve never moved my hips like that in my life.” he grinned and scratched his head.

“Ride dick for a few years and get back to me,” she smirked. “As a guy, you’re inclined to…” she spread her legs and did a basic hip thrust.

“Yeah that I’ve got DOWN.” he proclaims with a raised chin and a goofy smile.

“Have you ever thrown in some of this though?” She squatted lower, a more scoping motion of a hip thrust, it moved her whole torso when she did so.

“Oh like this move?” he turned and put one foot up on the bed and held his weight up on the wall and did a very similar movement. “Like this?” He wiggles his eyebrows at her with a big grin as he loses his balance trying to turn his head and slips. He quickly resituates to move his face toward hers again with one hand to his lower back. “Ya like that?” He sticks his tongue out of his mouth at her. Meanwhile, Star was holding her hand over her mouth and snorting laughing.

“So graceful.” She gets out between laughs. “The mental image of you doing that naked with that cute little butt of yours is fucking killing me.” She wipes a tear from her eye from laughing, half bent over at the waist. He moves so quickly to put both feet back on the ground and face her.

“Wait what?” His mouth was open and brows high as he hunched and approached her. “Did you just say I had a cute butt?” The look on his face is pure ‘I gotcha’.

“I guess I did.” She nodded and knew she couldn’t get out of this one.

“You said I have a cute butt!” He still had a face of shock and awe but mostly of superiority for her to have slipped up.

“So?” She said still laughing and he shoved her shoulder. “You caught me. What do You want? Me to write it down for your records?”

“I mean, yeah” he grinned.

“You’ve got a nice tight ass, Eddie, what do you want from me? I’m only human.” She kept an easy-going smile on her face and shrugged.

“No one’s ever told me that before.” He stood proudly and moved to try to look at his butt which made her laugh again.

“Why did I just get De ja vu?” She scrunches her nose in thought. “You look like a puppy trying to chase its tail but that’s not it.” He stood and thought for a moment.

“I did say that the first night we met.”

“Did I tell you you had a cute ass when I met you?” She put her hand over her mouth in exaggerated embarrassment even if it was a little real.

“No. You called me a pretty boy.” He gave her a smug smile.

“Are you sure I wasn’t insulting you?”

“Oh yeah, I’m sure. You were... friendly.” He chuckled, looking down and turning to move toward the bed.

“Oh god, what did I do?” She kept her hand to her mouth.

“You called me a pretty boy, and said I was dumb but cute.” She hummed and moved her hand as if she was weighing the options.

“I mean. I was right.” She smiles big, her green eyes disappearing behind fully raised cheeks. “Good to know my intuition is still working even when consciousness is not.”

“You also winked at me.”

“Okay, I’m sorry for that one. That’s too much.” She held her hands out apologetically.

“Don’t be.” He had a softer smile as he looked at the floor. “You said something that now I find more interesting. Knowing what I do about you. With your witch stuff.” He vaguely motions his hand her way.

“I’m never drinking again. I just embarrass myself.” She rubbed the bridge of her nose. “What’d I do?” She sighed.

“You said you thought I’d be good to you.”

“Are you sure we didn’t fuck?” She chuckled. “Were you drunk too? Because this sounds like I was flirting my ass off.”

“You were.” He grinned and raised his head back up to meet her eyes. There was an unmistakable twinkle in the deep brown that made something flutter around in her stomach for a brief moment. Maybe that's how she felt when she'd met him.

“What did I say exactly?” He huffed out a soft laugh in remembrance.

“I bet you’d be good to me, wouldn’t you pretty boy?” She looked around the room and then put her hand to her chin. You slut, she thought to herself. A grin he thought was embarrassment crossed her face.

“I guess I knew you were a good guy.” She tried to recall it but couldn't. But without the inhibitions of her trauma, she had been open enough to know he was a safe space. Drunk her was trying to make a connection sober her didn't have the courage to.

“I did keep you from fighting a guy 3 times your size and got you stuff to get the spilled beer off you.”

“Yeah, you are a good guy.” She smirked but it was playful and kind and less patronizing. She reached out to pinch his cheek. “Anyone putting up with my drunk ass is a saint.”

“I’m getting indoctrinated next week.” He nodded.

“Saint Munson. Patron saint of putting up with my annoying, drunk ass.”

“You weren’t that bad.” He tossed a hand her way to excuse her misplaced embarrassment. “You were nice.” He gave her a pleasant smile. “I’m glad I met you like that first. I got to see the real you a little bit.”

“Probably helped deal with me being a bitch later on.” She snorted out a laugh.

“Yeah, it did.” He agreed with an exaggerated nod.

“You’re not supposed to agree with that.” She teased and shoved him.

“You were dancing though.”

“Of course I was. Was I dancing with you?” Her voice sounded almost hopeful.

“No.” He answers simply. He saw the press of lips and he felt an odd pang of guilt. She’d wished he had danced with her. “Guess that means I deserve this harassment, huh?” He offers consolation and stands back close to her.

“It would be far worse if I was drunk.” She tilted her head. “So be glad I’m not.”

“I’ll assume the position then ma’am.” He turned and put his foot on the bed same as before. “Where were we? Showing you my moves?” He moves his hips again, once again eliciting a laugh from her.

“I was about to say. If you could only-” she does the small, fast hips thrusts. “I was about to feel so bad for anyone you’d slept with.” she chuckled.

“I’ve had no complaints.” He holds his hands up cockily as he turns back her way.

“I bet you haven't,” she smirked. “Now try doing that but both feet on the ground.” It took him a few swings but he got there. “Now less knee bending.” His eyes lit up when he realized he was doing it correctly, meeting hers with a big smile. “Gold star!” she clapped. “Now use your shoulders with that loosened-up stomach.” She began a simple back and forth and he mirrored it. “Okay he’s a fast learner.” she nods happily, sounding impressed. “If you really wanna impress a woman though-” she moves up on him, grabbing his lower back. “Keep moving, the same way you were. Don’t mind me.” she giggles. She matched their hips up and put his hand on her bare lower back. “Be assertive but don’t come on too strong.” she nodded as she pushed his hand to her body and he caught on to hold her. “A well-placed hand can really seal the deal.”

“Well placed thumb’ll do it too.” he gave her a look that was half-smirk and half cheesy grin.

“Alright, loverboy. I get it, you know what you’re doing.” she smiled and raised her arms, moving her body a little more of a feminine flare. She let her hand fall to his shoulder. “You’ve got it down now.” she gave him a warm smile, having to raise her face to meet his. “Was that so bad?”

“Worse. The worst time I’ve ever had.” he beamed at her, moving quickly and reaching back for her thigh, bringing it up and dipping her for a quick second as her yelp of surprise turned into a full laugh.

“Were you lying? You can do that but not dance?” her hands slapped to his chest as he raised her.

“I had to fill an elective one year and took theatre and they did a musical.” he explained.

“So you can slow dance?”

“There’s not a whole lot to it.”

“That’s true. I never really slow danced. That’s when I’d take a break at the clubs.”

“With all your body language and communicating with your bodies, man-” he said it in a mocking hippie stereotype way. “I figured you liked slow dancing.”

“It’s more intimate. And I didn't wanna be intimate with the people in the club. I was there to drink and fuck.” she noted.

“Fucking isn’t intimate?” he questioned with raised brows.

“Not by default no.” she seemed surprised by his reaction.

“You’re usually mostly naked, all up in each other's shit and swapping spit. What’s not intimate about that?” he shook his head in disbelief.

“I mean emotionally. One-night stands, I don’t want to connect. I’m there to get off. We’re using each other as a means to an end. There only needs to be physical chemistry, not any other kind.” she explained with animated hands. Eddie did love that she was someone that could talk about anything without being shy.“So slow dancing, you’re closer, and you can usually talk because the music isn’t as jarring. There are expectations, and to be honest, that’s the kind of stuff that bothers me. I could fuck anyone. It’s like…no issue. It’s that letting someone in your personal space that I have trouble with.”

“That explains so much about you.” he nodded slowly, a tight line of lips as she felt judged by his gaze.

“What’s that supposed to mean?"

“I was wondering why you made such a big deal out of hanging out with me. You made it clear it wasn’t some holding hands and making out at Lover’s Lake type deal. But for a while, you still acted as nervous as someone that was expecting something like that. And I didn't get it. But you’re… backward. You’re afraid of the stuff that most people want. And you aren’t afraid of the things most people are.”

“Have I mentioned how annoying your observational skills are?” she grumbled.

“Many times.” he smiled. “I was like, why is this girl acting like us chilling and talking is such a big deal. Just getting to know each other, ya know? It’s because it IS a big deal for you.”

“Yeah. It is.” she bobbed with thoughtful eyes. “Notice I’m not doing it with anyone else?” she holds her arms out to show the idea.

“Okay this helps.” he nods and rubs his hands together. “You’re hard to read but also completely transparent.” he teases with a smile. “I see why you’re hesitant about joining the club. It’s a lot to let five new people in.”

“It’s a lot a lot.” she nods. “I’ve always had a small friend group,” she explained. “I’m fortunately and unfortunately a Scorpio through and through. Intensity is my shit but flippant relationships are very much not.”

“Scorpion suits you.” he nodded in approval.

“A stubborn ass bull suits you.” He puts up his fingers as little horns on his head and lets out a huffing sound like a bull.

“And to live up to that, Taurus… right Taurus?” his attention visibly splits for a moment then as Star nods in approval he shifts back. “I will be as stubborn as you and demand that I now teach you to dance.” Star stands and blinks at him. “You taught me how to do it your way, now I’m gonna teach you to do it my way.” he claps his hands together and rubs them. “Only fair.”

“What are you going to teach me?” she openly rolled her eyes and sighed.

“To headbang.” he leans forward to accentuate the obviousness of the statement.

“What’s there to it? You just-” she shakes her head up and down, her top knot slipping forward. She lets out a dumb little laugh as her eyes remain covered by the floof of misplaced hair.

“First of all, shut up,” he says and moves her hair back off her face. “Second of all, get rid of this.” he takes the hair tie out of her hair sloppily and then pulls it back on his thumb to shoot across the trailer. He then got his hands into her hair and fluffed it all out. “And third, watch and learn.” he moves to turn up her stereo and fast forwards to the next song, knowing which it was. He finds his signature pose, feet planted, long legs bent and hands splayed on his thighs. His hair is a glorious crown being shaken in every direction, he goes a surprisingly long time, which gave Star time to copy his stance. He stopped and never stumbled, flicking his hair off his face with both hands before attempting to smooth it down a bit. “Your turn.” he says taking a deep breath to catch his.

She makes a solid attempt, not lasting long before her hand grabs the counter and she’s left with a mess of hair the same as his.

“You gotta loosen the neck.” he grabs her by the back of the neck. “Don’t stiffen this up.”

She plants her feet again, putting more of her body into it, and hears a clap then stops with a stumble.

“Now you've got the more advanced stuff.” he holds out his arms in preparation. “You can throw a hand in there.” he bangs his head, hands up with horns then pounding on his leg. “Or go full head.” he whiplashes his head in a circle, his hair moving like a windmill.

“How do you not get dizzy?” she asks rubbing her temple.

“Not having a brain helps.” He grins.

“You can have mine.” she mumbles, holding her temples before trying again. He’s giving her a loud shout of approval and she lets herself get into it. But unlike Edie, she didn’t quite have the equilibrium for it. She moves forward a little too hard and stumbles over, she’s laughing immediately as she rolls to her back and lays with her hands over he eyes.

“Yeah you gotta work on that part.” he joins her in laughing, both legs on either side of her hips as he holds out his hands to help her up.

“Lemme stay here for a second. The room’s spinning,” she admits. “Maybe this isn’t for me.” she admits, a scrunched-up nose, looking up at the looming tall figure of Eddie.

“You were doing great.” he leans closer with his hands on his knees. “Just gotta straighten out the old noggin.” he taps her nose.

“I don’t know if you should headbang if you’ve had a concussion?” she tilted her head, finally taking her hands off her face.

“Fuck, like recently?” his eyes go wide with concern.

“No, last year.” she held out her hands and he helped yank her up before very sweetly holding her arm and helping her sit on the bed where he joined her.

“Yeah that’s something you might wanna mention.” he only held a slight scold in his voice. He pushed her hair back from her face and held her chin, looking at her eyes to make sure her pupils were even. “How the hell did you get a concussion?” he asked with no real thought behind it, some general curiosity. He sees the wince on her face after the question.

“There was a fight.” she says with a measured pace.

“You? You got knocked out?” he finished smoothing her hair, pulling it back off her shoulders.

“Can’t win ‘em all.” she shrugged and paused. “Especially when it’s a one-on-three.” His eyes went so soft for her that she felt an ache in her stomach. He put his arm around her shoulder to pull her closer in an attempt to comfort her. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“What? That fucking sucks. That's some real bullshit.” he tries to console her. “Can I ask what happened?”

“You just did.” she pursed her lips then sighed. “Don’t tell anyone,” she says very quietly. He mocks locking his mouth and throwing away the key. “It’s part of why I left. This girl hated me. And for once I didn’t anything to make her hate me. But she did, and her and her friends found me alone one day, and…” she fakes hitting herself in the head with something.

“I would’ve lost some money on that fight. I’d always bet on you.” he reassures her with a kind smile.

“Depending on a lot of factors yeah. But when bricks are involved? Not so much.”

“You serious?” he says softly. “You got fuckin’ brained, man. I wouldn’t have-”

“No, shut up. You didn’t know.” she smacks his apologetic hand away. “I'm fine now, I just got a little dizzy.”

“You want me to take a brick to her?” he rubbed her shoulder supportively. “I will drive to Chicago and hit a woman.” he puts his hand to his chest and it makes her smile, her head knocking into his shoulder affectionately.

“Violence is the way to my heart, Eddie.” She beamed up at him from where her head rested on his shoulder.

“You want me to murder someone for your birthday?” he playfully coos at her with pooched lips.

“Yes.” she giggles.

“Don’t go getting mad at me when I do. You asked for it.”

“I’ll be your alibi.” she nods with a warm smile. “It’s a double present. I get to lie to the cops.” she laughed. “Or I’ll murder someone for you? Dealer’s choice.”

“You’re a bad influence, Star.” he shook his head, still smiling.

“But a good friend.” she added in comparison. He squeezes her with the arm around her shoulder, mushing her slightly against him.

“Just a little bit.”

Star stood happily in front of her history class. She wasn’t one too phased by public speaking. She’d been given an assignment from the teacher for the first few weeks of class she’d missed due to a screw-up on her intake paperwork. All she has to do was pick a period from history and talk about it. So naturally, she went with one of her favorite painting periods. She’d gone above and beyond as she did when it came to anything she loved. She had a poster full of examples with a well-organized and decorated presentation. She didn’t even need the notes she’d made as she knew exactly what she was talking about. Her enthusiasm for such a thing blinded her to realize that no one else in that class was going to give a shit about this presentation. She knew she’d be graded for showmanship and interaction as it was on the syllabus but she was feeling the pit deep in her stomach grow with every passing sentence. She really needed a good grade and she cared so much about what she was talking about and one other person knew that. And that was Eddie.

He spent the entire presentation as focused as he would’ve been on creating a campaign. His eyes were on her and he was nodding and hitting the chair in front of him to make sure they paid attention. At her most hopeless she looked his way, and it hurt him to see the disappointment in her eyes. He gave her a nod and a thumbs up and she managed to swallow down the lump in her throat and continue. When the time came for the final questions Star was answered with crickets. Eddie's hand shot up, jarring his seat with the force after he looked around the room like a deer in a field to see if anyone was willing to help. So he took it upon himself.

“Eddie?” She calls on him and if anyone had been paying attention they would’ve heard the softness in her voice as she called his name.

“These guys the brotherhood they were based off another group right? The Nazareth?”

Star imagined for a moment sitting her notes down and walking across the classroom to grab his face and plant a kiss that would leave him breathless. It was already overwhelming to have him help at all but to have a question that showed he’d listened to her when she would get high and rant about these paintings made that feeling of wanting to cry bubble up again. But it was for a good reason. The adorable earnest lean forward in his chair, sitting incorrectly in it, as always, paired with the mix-up of the Nazarene movement and the band Nazareth made her heart swell with admiration. She felt the bitter bite of loneliness from speaking about something you’re passionate about to a room of disinterested people fade. It was replaced with a feeling of belonging with the simple act of giving a shit about her by Eddie.

When the cards are right, they’re right.

If you’ve never walked into a room and knew everyone was talking about you, it’s an odd experience to explain. Star had come from gym class and had entered the open daunting space of the cafeteria. She decided as soon as she saw Eddie with his wild hand gestures at the head of his table that she would be breaking down and sitting with the group today. She had the older ones in some classes, the younger ones, especially the curly-haired one had been friendly and struck up a conversation with her in the hallway. They weren’t total strangers, and right now she needed support. With an unreadable face, she made a straight line to Eddie. He noticed her immediately as he always does, posture straightening as he saw her heading toward him. He knew something was wrong by the way she chewed the inside of her lip.

“Hey guys.” she managed to sound fairly friendly. “Mind if I sit with you today?” She was met with staring eyes of surprise. She stood with her lunch tray in her hand, a few feet from Eddie. After the shock wore off, Eddie used his foot to push Dustin down the table, disrupting the two youngest.

“Yeah, of course.” Eddie shoved Dustin's tray and a more curious than disgruntled youthful face smiled at her.

Behind her, some causes of her wounded mood approached. A girl from her gym class and a lanky guy with his arm around her slowed down as they passed.

“Looked good in gym class today Freddy.” he said with a smirk and the girl slapped his chest and giggled.

“Couldn't say the same for you.” she offered with a monotone delivery as she slid into the seat next to Eddie. He was trying to hide his typical affectionate behavior as he didn’t want to add to the awkwardness or make her feel exposed. She kept her eyes down to the table for a moment, hands white-knuckled to the tray before finally releasing it and beginning to eat.

“What the hell was that about?” Eddie asked quietly leaning in. The others could hear him but he knew to try to keep his voice from its typical booming volume. She kept her posture straight and looked him directly in his eyes for a few long seconds. He knew they’d hurt her feelings.

“Krueger.” she said before looking away to pick up a french fry. Eddie’s face was contorted with confusion for a moment. She then raised her arm with the burn scars on it wordlessly, then lowered it.

“Oh no, fuck that.” his nostrils flared and everyone was surprised when she boldly reached out to grab him by his wallet chain and yank him back into his seat.

“Don’t.” one word said enough and he hunched over angrily. Everyone at the table was stunned that she’d just leashed their Dungeon Master.

“Why are they calling you that?” Mike asked, sitting beside Dustin to Star’s left.

“I have burn scars on my arm.” she calmly explained.

“Oh shit.” he said quietly.

“Yeah.” she pursed her lips and raised her brows before letting out a big sigh.

“That’s fucked up, Star. I'm sorry.” Dustin offered.

“I expected it eventually. Maybe not so soon but that fucking asshole of a gym teacher wouldn’t let me wear my bracelets in gym class and everyone got a full view of the damage so now I'm the talk of the school again, but for a new reason.” she let her fork fall and put her hands into her lap. She’d spoken fast and from her gut and wished she hadn’t divulged so much information.

“That’s messed up.” Jeff offered. “They make fun of me because of my braces.” he gave a weak smile. Trying to show solidarity.

“You name it they’ve made fun of me for it.” Eddie offered with a shrug, she felt his hand connect to hers under the table as he held it in a tight squeeze.

“Yeah, they make fun of me because I’m fat.”

“And me because of my cleidocranial dysplasia.”

“And me when my speech impediment was worse.” Gareth added, all with the same weak knowing smile of having been the victim.

“Guess I’m in good company then.” she felt touched by the gesture. She’d been blowing them off and here they were, taking her in and trying to help.

Eddie wished no one was around. He wanted to hold her face and tell her the terrible things he’d do to anyone who dared call her that. The hurt in her big hazel eyes made his stomach ache. Star didn’t get her feelings hurt. This was new.

“You are.” Dustin smiled at her full of braces. “For the record, I think the scars are pretty badass.” he gives an affirming nod, and a muttered agreement makes its way across the group.

“Metal. Definitely.” Gareth adds with a supportive nod.

“Thanks.” his earnest words got a smile out of her and Eddie let out an exhale he didn’t know he’d been holding in. “I thought they were too.” She takes a deep breath and even though it isn’t her dominant hand, she raises it to begin picking at her food again. Eddie knew she’d left her other hand in his on purpose. Maybe a comfort to ground her for a bit longer. He did the same and went back to his lunch, thumb gently rubbing back and forth on the back of her scarred hand. “I didn’t mean to bum everyone out.” She says with a tone much more like herself. “By all means, back to your regularly scheduled programming.” She encourages them with a wave of her hand.

Eddie kept his hand in hers until she let go.

Eddie had settled in after a night of playing D and D. He was in his boxers and his hellfire shirt, propped up on a pillow in bed. He had the liner notes of the newest addition to his collection out and was deeply ingrained in committing the lyrics to memory. The phone on his bedside rang, quickly breaking his fragile concentration. He glanced at the clock, seeing it was almost 11. He quickly crawled to the edge of the bed, turning down the music before hopping to throw his legs over the side.

“Y’ello?” A casual and unsuspecting greeting.

“Oh good, it’s you.” He hears a feminine sigh. “I called earlier and no one answered.” He knew her voice in person or over the phone by this point.

“I took a ride around after Hellfire to clear my head.” He rests the phone between his shoulder and ear, hands moving to put the album cover back together.

“I need a favor.” Her voice sounded a little scratchy.

“Sure thing, shoot.” He answers without a second thought.

“Could you come over?”

He froze, brow moving down in concern.

“What happened?”

“Nothing.” She lies.

“Star.” His voice sounded like her brother when he’d scolded her.

“I don’t wanna be alone.” She manages to get out even if it sounded strained.

“You okay? You need something? Lemme -“ he stands and snatches his jeans off the back of a chair. “Get some clothes on and I’ll be over.”

“I’m having a bad night. Robbies working overnight and I’m-“

“I’m on my way right now.” She could hear the clink of keys in the background. “You’re fine I’ll be there in like 5 minutes.”

“Kay.”

He walked into an almost dark trailer. She had her altar uncovered with her tall offering candles burning along with the usual incense. It was close to her bed where she sat. Her knees were to her chest in an oversized sleep shirt that was pulled over her legs. He walked in slowly and moved the same, eyes focusing in the dark as he made his way toward her. The cats raised their heads lazily and with a yawn decided he was no longer of any interest. He heard a sniffle as she raised her head, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. He got to her as quickly as he could.

“C’mere.” He reached down and handled her to pull her up and into his chest. He kept quiet, a hand to the back of her head to keep her close and the other rubbing her back. “Are you okay?” He asked, his voice muffled against her hair. It was freshly washed and smelled like strawberries, the ends still a little damp.

“No.” She let out a sigh, unfurling her arms from around her face as she accepted the embrace and put her arms around him. She didn’t know what she anticipated, but for him to swoop in and try to help should’ve been expected. Perhaps she hadn’t predicted him to be so gentle. “Yes.” She changed her answer, her cheek mushed into his chest. “I’m having a bad night.”

“You said you didn’t want to be alone?”

“I don’t like being alone when I’m like this.” She admitted into the safety of his embrace.

“You’re not alone anymore.” He reassured her. “I’m here.” She could feel the exhale on her scalp, the warmth spreading across her crown as he rests his face in her hair. She looked at the clock on the wall, feeling an ache in her chest when he said the words. 11:11. She felt the heat of tears bubble up again. She knew what was upsetting her but she’d not reacted this intensely in a long time. She let out a little whimper at his words, knowing the timing to never be simply coincidence. It was a sign.

“I know.” She stutters out and squeezes him tighter. He’s touched by the affection. He was worried she’d lash out and push him away, she had before when she was feeling sensitive. But this felt different.

“What can I do to help?” He started stroking back her hair off her forehead. He leaned his face down closer to hers to get a look at her, make sure she wasn’t hurt. “You want tea? Wanna lie down? Want me to shut up?” She doesn’t have to look up to know he’s smiling, trying.

“Yeah.” She let out a small huff of a laugh and he squeezed her.

“There she is.” He pulled away and held her by her shoulders. “You wanna talk about it? Or am I gonna have to beat up everyone and hope I get who’s responsible?” Her face was lit by the full moonlight coming in her window like one of the paintings she loved, he thought. A moonbeam right across the quivering, wet eyes and cheeks. She kept the same aloof eyes for a moment, darting around everywhere except him before another shakey deep exhale steadied her and she met his gaze.

“Tea.” She Stated.

“Then tea for the queen it is.” He gave her a bow and showed her to her bed with a swish of his arm. “Now.” He tapped his fingers together in thought as he found the teapot. “Water in it? Yes. Turn it on. Grab the cup.” He opened her cupboard. “But which mug? Is she gonna go with Ziggy? Teddy bears in pajamas? Oh, Halloween witch maybe?” He kept leaning in and out of the cabinet, popping his head back her way with every suggestion.

“Teddy bears.” She says with a smile.

“Beary good choice.” He models the mug like he was presenting a board on Wheel of Fortune. He gets a snort out of her and that’s good enough. “You’re gonna want peppermint right?”

“Yeah.” She gulped down the whimper that grew in her throat. He listened.

“That’s the upset stomach one.” He nodded and looked for approval from her. Wiping away the rest of the gone tears on her face she agreed. “It is in... this one!” He raises a small canister full of tea bags to his nose. “Nope. Not that one.” He rubbed his nose. “That smells like ass Star, how do you drink that?” He could see her smile from her perched spot on her bed. She was moving to lean in and get comfortable, resembling one of the cats nesting. Both of which were currently laid on top of one another in a pile of laundry at the side of the bed. “Here we go. It smells like Christmas. You get those peppermint sticks for Christmas?”

“Yeah, I love peppermint Candy.” Her voice was more even now, she sounded like she was coming down. “I like the cherry cordials a lot too.” They talked about, of all things, Christmas candy while the tea heated. He took her mind off whatever had been plaguing her for a few precious minutes and as far as he was concerned that was his job in this situation.

Soon she was snugged into the corner and patting for him to join her. He slid in, shoes off first, and mirrored her bent leg, propped up posture.

“You did good.” She says noisily sipping the steaming tea.

“You wanna talk about it?” He asks with a very relaxed body language, his cheek mushing against his fist as he leaned.

“No.” She raised her eyes to meet his. “But I know I should.” She sighed.

“You don’t have to but I would like to know what’s going on even vaguely. When someone calls you at 11 on a Friday it’s for one of two reasons, and I don’t care if this was some twisted way to get me over here to have sex I am not fucking a crying girl. Even I have my limits.” He spoke with his typical animated hand and face, a playful smile that she needed to see on his face.

“What’s the other reason?”

“Somethings wrong.” He swung his head her way, calling her out with an obvious look.

“It would be the latter yes.” She nodded and sipped again. “I’ve only ever talked to Robbie about this stuff.” She mumbled into her cup. “And that’s because he was there, I didn’t have a choice.”

“Are you guys close?”

“Yeah. I like to think so. He’s raised me by himself since he was 19.” She could tell he was surprised and he had enough manners to have not asked what the situation was. “You know how I started school late this year?” He nods.” The guardianship paperwork and me turning 18 wasn’t right and we had to get it all straightened out before I could enroll.”

“So he’s legally been taking care of you.” She nodded in response.

“My mom died and my dad is-“ she shrugged. “Who knows?” She took another drink entirely too casually for Eddie even though he understood.

“I’m in the same situation you know. Except I know where my dad is. Jail.” He huffed out a sound of disappointment.

“And you have your uncle instead of a brother.”

“Wish I had a brother.”

“You want Robbie?” She offered and it made him smile again. Her turn to distract him. “I’ll take Wayne.”

“He does like you.” He grinned. “Asks about you whenever he sees me. Where’s that little hippie girl?”

“I’ve been called worse.”

“Is that what you’re upset about? Those assholes at school starting up that bull shit?” She could see the flash of anger in his eyes.

“Don’t get upset on my behalf.” She reached out and pat his arm.

“Tell yourself that.” He smirked. She returned it recalling the time someone had called Eddie white trash while they were in town and she flipped them off and told them to 'eat her, you gentrifying old bitch’.

“Guess we both have issues.”

“That’s why we get along so well.” She nodded in agreement. Another drink to ease the sore throat from drainage from crying.

“The doctors told me I have this thing called PTSD.” He looked at her confused. “Soldiers aren’t the only ones that get it.” She answers before he could ask. “It’s any traumatic event. You get flashbacks and these thoughts about it that you can’t stop.” Her face was concentrated on the blackness in her mug. “It’s been a year since I got my scars and I didn’t think the anniversary would bother me. Then the new nickname happened and having to take off my bracelets all happening within the same week brings it all up again.” She took a more ragged breath in and stopped to blink and gather herself.

He reaches out and offers her his arm. With a pat on the side of his chest, he summons her easily, sending she needed physical comfort if she didn’t want to be alone. His hypothesis was right. Without a word he took her mug and set it to the side. She slid against him, face into his chest again as they wrapped their arms around each other.

"I'm used to people talking shit about things that aren't true. Rumors don't bother me. But I've never had them make fun of me for this. I haven't been back to school since it happened so this is new." she confided.

"I was surprised you got so upset at it. But that makes sense. I'm so used to you being bulletproof that it caught me off guard."

"I know. I saw." she sighs and nuzzles her face into his chest. "I get upset a lot more than I let on."

"I know." he nodded, his hand making soothing circles on her back. “Whenever I get upset, I always wish that there was someone around to do this with.” He admitted. “When things are really bad you just wish you could be a kid again and crawl into someone's arms and have them tell you it’ll be okay.” He resumes the precious position of putting his face into her hair. Instead of curling up into a ball against him she then extends her arms to wrap around him too. They both felt like they had been dying of throat and now had endless water. There had been a drought of this physical intimacy and trust in their lives. Slowly they were beginning to understand they held the answer to that problem in each other.

“I’d do the same for you.” She spoke into his soft worn shirt.

“I know ya would.” He kisses the top of her head. “That’s why I’m here.”

“Would you stay?” Her voice sounded small. “It’s so much worse when I’m alone.”

“I’ll stay. I wouldn't leave you alone like this, don’t worry. ”

The clock read 12:22.

PART 4

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dandylovesturtles · 1 year

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Hey, as a newbie to writing fic and to sharing things online/engaging in fandom spaces, I was wondering if you could share some insight regarding the best ways to make friends and get your work seen? There’s so much good content in the Rise fandom I can totally understand why things would get buried. So what’s the best way to make connections and to (I hate this word but idk what else to call it) promote your stuff? Thank you in advance! Hope things are well and I cannot wait to read your further updates/works. <3

Hi! Thanks for the well wishes!! And welcome to the world of fic writing!

So I'm going to start here by saying that I'm answering this question from the angle of trying to get your work seen and making friends more than getting popular, because getting popular is honestly a lot of luck and unless you want to be really cynical about it and game the system it's pretty much impossible to force it. BUT wanting people to read your fic is a normal and good thing to want; most of us want the things we create to be enjoyed by others, after all!

First things first, the easiest way to be part of a community is to participate in it! In fandom this means leaving comments on fanfic, reblogging art and fic and leaving tags or comments here on tumblr, etc. There are people in the fandom who have become familiar faces to me just because they're always commenting on my fics or tagging posts and they show up in my notifs all the time. Also, I can't speak for everyone here, but when people leave me nice comments on my fics, pretty often I'll click into their profile to see if they've written anything that I might like to read. I've found great fanfics that way!

I know some people are more social than others (I'm on the low end of the social spectrum), but even if direct messaging people is intimidating, just being an enthusiastic presence in the less direct ways I've suggested can go a long way towards making yourself known in the fandom, and you can gain friends over time that way!

Another way you can get some eyes on your work is through fandom events. I've mentioned on this blog that I'm participating in the Grab A Slice bang event (which is posting this month), which has been a fun way to meet other writers and artists in the TMNT fandom at large. There's other stuff like this happening all the time, like I know last month there was an April art challenge here on tumblr that had prompts for each day. And I wouldn't be surprised if we get some secret santa events happening around Christmas. Obviously not everyone has time for this kind of stuff, but if you do, participating is basically a free way to both get promotion of your work and be introduced to other creators in the fandom.

Finally, this is more technical advice that I have, but I assume since you're asking me you're posting work to AO3 or plan to, so I want to say that tagging your work appropriately is really important for getting it seen! Be sure you're tagging your major characters, any major relationships (as a side note, & tags on AO3 mean platonic relationships while / tags mean romantic ones), and any major tropes or themes that people might be hunting for (you should also put trigger warnings in the tags). Usually when I'm on AO3 I'm not just going through the Rise tag unfiltered, I'm searching up "Donatello (TMNT) & Leonardo (TMNT), hurt/comfort" or "Raphael (TMNT), angst" so if someone is leaving tags like that off their work I won't see it even if it's something I would devour in one sitting. Tags are super important on tumblr too but they are also... more of a mystery to me... definitely tag your main characters and the fandom though.

Also, don't be discouraged! Not everything is going to be a hit right away. I've had my ups and downs for sure; my least kudos'd fic has 3 kudos (not counting the ones I ported over from FFN because those had different post dates - my actual least kudos'd fic has no kudos). Remember that writing fic is ultimately for fun, and really as long as you write something you yourself have fun reading then I think that's a success!

I hope that this made sense and was not just useless rambling lol. Thanks for the ask!

#I always feel a little presumptuous giving advice like this #honestly idk though throw spaghetti at the wall and see what sticks

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random-writer-23 · 2 years

Text

The pearl Guns (Jesper x F Reader)

A/N: Hello lovelies! Welcome to the first one-shot I'm publishing on this blog, this one was written pretty recently so it's probably going to be much better than the others I'll be posting on here of my past writing, but when I get to publishing more new stuff it'll hopefully be decent as well. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it, and any comments, likes, shares, and reblogs are appreciated! Happy reading! Word count: 3131 Requested: No Warnings: not really, just the usual Jesper flirting and just sexual tension but nothing other than that.

As a member of ketterdams socially elite, I was expected to behave like a perfect lady at all times of the day, whether it was at a dinner party hosted by my father, a traveling conference my father forced me to attend, art shows, or whatever else my father expected of me. My father was one of the biggest and richest merchants in the city and as a result, I being his one and only daughter had practically no say in my life. I had to be the perfect daughter in order to preserve his reputation. Which is why I am currently getting ready for a large dinner party my father is hosting.

"is it still too loose (y/n)?" My maid Magaret asked, referring to the corset backing of the dress I was wearing.

"Oh um, just a little tighter Margaret" I replied, feeling the tug of the ribbon on my back tightening my corset. "that's good" I responded when I felt the dress tight enough to support me. She tied it at the back and stepped away towards my vanity mirror where she started preparing to do my hair. I looked in the full-body mirror at the dress. It was an (f/c) dress that stretched all the way to my ankles. I gave a small spin while Margaret nodded her head approvingly.

"Alright, dear now sit down so I can do your hair" Margaret moved me to sit in front of the mirror and grabbed my hairbrush, beginning to brush my hair. Once she was done she patted my shoulder and I turned around so she could do my makeup. Once she finished she patted my shoulder and I stood up while she cleaned up my vanity.

"thank you, Margaret," I said as she helped me into my shoes.

"Of course dearie" she replied brushing my dress out straight and giving me a smile as she left the room. Margaret has been my maid since the day I was born, cleaning my room, feeding me, reading me stories before bed, taking me to school, and taking care of me when I was sick. She was more like a parent to me than my actual father is. After my mother passed he distanced himself from me. I always assumed it was because I am the spitting image of her. I took one last look at myself in my mirror, I looked like the ideal image of a perfectly well-behaved daughter, all that was left to do was to play the part. I exited my room and headed downstairs to stand next to my father as he welcomed people into the house.

"Please behave tonight (y/n)" My father whispered with an exasperated sigh, placing a stern hand on my shoulder. Which to others might have looked like a gesture of comfort, but I knew it was an order. I stood up straight smiling and offering to take our guest's coats making small talk with the ladies as my dad spoke to the merchants, directing them to a conference room where the merchant council was going to meet. While those not attending the meeting were directed to the living room to talk amongst themselves and enjoy the rest of the party. After the rest of the merchant council had arrived my father gave my shoulder a squeeze and walked off toward the conference room to participate in the council meeting. I was left to my own devices to wander around and keep the guests occupied and wanting for nothing. I wandered into the living room where everyone was chatting with each other. The band playing their music softly in the background. I smiled while chatting with some of the guests before, excusing myself to get a drink. I poured myself a cup of water refusing to let one of the servants do it for me and then exited the room squeezing past the waiters who were getting ready to serve trays of appetizers to the guests since the actual food wouldn't be served until after the council meeting ended. Smiling and nodded through the halls of people making small talk and giving hugs until I finally made it outside. Giving a nod of acknowledgment to the guards posted at the door, who were no doubt ordered by my father to keep a close watch on me. Once I finally made it outside I took a deep breath and moved myself past the few guests who were lingering and chatting in the garden, toward my favorite spot. I sighed walking past the decorative rows of rose bushes, kicking a small rock along the path. The gazebo sat upon the highest spot in the garden, shining in the moonlight and overlooking the bay. Lifting my skirt I stepped gently over a puddle of mud and onto the hard floor of the gazebo. I looked around, finally out of view of the guards stationed at the door.

"man I hate these dinners," I said to no one, in particular, letting out a huff, I finished my drink and placed the empty cup on the gazebo railing.

"You and me both beautiful" A man's voice replied and I spun around to see where the voice came from.

"And who are you?" I asked backing up and holding the skirt of my dress up, in case I had to make a run for it. The man gave me a weird look before gesturing to his clothes.

"I thought it was a bit obvious that I'm a guard, love" He laughed, and against my better judgment I laughed as well.

"well, whose guard are you?" I asked calming down my giggles, "cause you can't be one of my father's I would have seen you around here before." I watched his eyes widen for a second before he composed his features and spoke.

"You're (l/n)'sF daughter?" He asked and I nodded in response letting go of the hold I had on my skirt and leaning up against the railing of the gazebo. The stranger's presence made me oddly relaxed. "how could someone as ugly as him make someone as pretty as you" He flirted with a wink and I blushed looking away from him.

"Why thank you" I giggled bringing my hand up to my face to hide my blush.

"and if you must know, I'm only a temporary hire. First time working here, brought in for the party" He explained and I nodded along. It wasn't unusual for my father to bring in members of the stadwatch for events and parties he put on. More security means fewer problems he always said.

"I see, well that explains why I haven't seen you around" I replied with a smile, "so you're a stadwatch guard I presume?" I asked moving away from the railing to sit on one of the gazebo benches.

"you could say that" He moved from the entrance of the gazebo to lean against the railing across from me, as he moved I snuck a glance at the guns holstered to his side.

"so if you're a guard, why aren't you, y'know guarding things?" I asked with a small smile.

"I am, I'm guarding you, the most important guest at the party" He declared "you don't know what kind of unsavory characters are lurking in your gardens" He lowered his voice and looked around animatedly. Making me laugh.

"I should have assumed my father would send a guard to tail me" I sighed dramatically before looking at the stranger slyly, "I just didn't know he'd be so handsome" I giggled, as a surprised look crossed the guard's face, he reached up scratching the back of his neck shyly.

"I don't think I can take so much flattery from such an angel" He smiled and fanned himself dramatically, which made me laugh again. We fell into a short silence as our laughter died down.

"if I may ask what kind of guns do you have," I asked partly wondering about his guns, and also just wanting to keep talking to this handsome stranger instead going back to the boring party full of stuffy noble folk and businessmen.

"Oh these?" He moved his coat aside to show off the one holstered on his left hip, and I nodded. He took it out of the holster and moved closer to where I sat, for me to see them. "They're zemeni-made" he explained. "and you see the handle?" he pointed at the handle which had a pearlescent look to them, so I suspected it to be pearl. "it's made of pearl" he confirmed my suspicions.

"That's what I thought it was!" I said excitedly prying my eyes away from the guns to look up at him, to see him already looking at me with a smile. I looked back at his guns quickly, my face heating up again. "what else?" I asked him, and he cleared his throat to continue.

"well they can fire up to 6 shots really quickly one after the other, and as for the type of gun they're revolvers" He held it out to me. "you can hold it if you'd like"

"oh, could I?" I asked positively beaming at the offer.

"of course" He responded with a chuckle, I stood up and took the revolver from him gently, and examined it.

"Now what's that?" I pointed to the middle of the gun where a weird-looking circle sat.

"That's the barrel, it's what holds the bullets" he explained and I nodded. "there's the trigger, that's what you press to shoot it," he said pointing to the trigger. "you wanna try shooting it?" He asked with a sly smile and I nodded excitedly. "alright, let's uhhhh aha" he said his eyes landing on the cup I had placed on the railing and had just about forgotten. He walked over and moved it to the middle of the railing. "Now back up a little" He walked back to me and moved to stand next to me. "that's it, and then since it's already loaded" He held my wrist gently and fixed how I was holding the gun "that's better, we're going to pull this right here to cock the gun, and now keep your finger off the trigger there, we're gonna aim first." He moved from my side to behind me and let go of my wrist moving his hand up my arm and stopping at my elbow. I shuddered as a chill ran up my spine "now straighten your arm, love" He said pushing my arm straight "that's it" I felt the hand not holding my arm come to rest on my hip. My breath hitched as my face flushed, and I could feel my heartbeat quicken when he spoke, I prayed he couldn't hear how loud it was. "Now point it straight ahead" he moved my arm so it was pointing directly at the cup on the railing. "and close one eye and look down at the gun, is it pointing at the cup?" He asked. I didn't really trust myself to speak so I nodded. "all right now when you're ready, fix your stance 'cause there's going to be a little recoil and I don't want you to fall. Widen your feet" I fixed my stance like he said, "there you go, now bring your finger to the trigger, don't pull yet" He shifted, his hand moving from my elbow back to my hand, fitting it snuggly in his, placing his finger over mine on the trigger. "you ready?" he asked.

"yeah, ready" I responded, trying desperately to control my racing heart. I felt him push my finger down on the trigger and heard a loud bang as the bullet shot out of the gun and hit the cup on the railing shattering it to pieces. I grinned as I realized I hit it, letting out a stream of giggles in my excitement. "I hit it!" I squealed moving out of his hold to jump around in excitement.

"I knew you would," he replied, and my smile faded slightly at the realization I couldn't feel his warmth anymore. "a little more practice and you'll probably be better than me" he added with a smile and I chuckled, looking at the gun in my hand I regretfully gave it back, and he tucked it away, back in his holster. I watched his movements carefully until I heard the distant sound of footsteps coming hurriedly in our direction.

"Oh no that'll be the other guards" I looked at him worriedly, "they probably heard the sound!" I said my voice rising in panic. "they're going to tell my father!" I whispered in horror mainly to myself.

"hey, hey don't worry, just uh... follow my lead," He said with a sly smile. I nodded turning to face the approaching guards who were now within eyesight.

"What's going on over here, we heard a gunshot. are you alright miss (l/n)" The taller guard asked us, holding his hand on his gun warily.

"That's my fault, I was trying to entertain miss (l/n) while watching over her" the stranger responded to him, as he stood at attention. I nodded my agreement.

"oh yes, my father instructed him to watch me, and he saw me out here alone. It's not his fault, I was curious about his guns, and asked if I could shoot one" I told the guards, and they nodded along.

"well alright miss (l/n), as long as there's no trouble we should be returning to our posts" the shorter one replied and they both gave me a short bow as I dismissed them. Once they were out of sight the man and I burst into a fit of giggles.

"that was close!" I laughed covering my mouth with my hand as I did.

"what do you mean you were a natural!" he exclaimed as our laughter died down, and we descended into a nice silence. I looked down at my feet clasping my hands in front of me as he cleared his throat. I looked back up at him for a moment meeting his eyes, as I smiled.

"oh I um, I never got your name," I said quietly, trying not to disturb the moment.

"well, you never asked for it love" He responded his face breaking out into a smile as he took a step closer to me.

"I'm asking now" I challenged, a matching smile appearing across my face, only then realizing how close we were.

"well then, Love my name is-" He was inturrupted by the grating voice of my father, shattering the calm between the man and I.

"(y/n)" I heard his voice, it sounded far off but I knew if I didn't go now it would get closer as he looked for me.

"I'm sorry, you were saying? your name." I apologized on behalf of my father and tried to resume conversation with the guard.

"next time love," The guard said with a sly smile, taking my hand and pressing a slow kiss to the top. "you best be off" he let go of my hand and the warmth of his kiss stayed with me as he left the gazebo. My eyes trailed him as he left and I went to find my father before he got any angrier than he probably was.

Dinner was served by the time I made it back to the house, and my father gave me a stern look that meant we'd be having a discussion later. I ate my dinner in silence, sitting next to my father, listening to the chatter of guests as they all spoke with one another.

It wasn't until late in the night when we bid the last guests a good night as they left the house, and my father turned on me.

"the guards posted at the garden door informed me of your little gunslinging," he said his voice level and steady. "what were you doing? hmm?" He asked sternly.

"I went outside for some fresh air and then started talking to one of the members of the stadwatch you brought in for tonight's party. The one you instructed to tail me tonight" I explained wringing my fingers as I avoided eye contact with him.

"What are you talking about? I didn't send anyone to watch you tonight, and I didn't bring in any extra members of the stadwatch for tonight's party" He said tired of this conversation already.

I looked at him shocked "but, the guard..." I trailed off at the look my father gave me, and he sighed pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes.

"(y/n), it's been a long night, we'll continue this conversation another day, just go to your room" He demanded softly.

"but i- yes father" I responded not feeling up to protest. I made my way up the stairs and stopped at the top. "goodnight father" I said quietly.

"goodnight (y/)- " He hesitated cutting himself off in the middle of my name before speaking again. "goodnight (n/n)" he said calling me by the affectionate nickname he used to when I was small. My eyes watered as I turned away from him and continued down the hall to my room. He hasn't called me that since before my mom passed.

I laid in bed that night staring at my ceiling long after Margaret had left after helping me out of my formal dinner wear. Thinking thoughts about the stranger and why he would have lied to me, thoughts about his lies merged into thoughts of how gentle he was, and how warm his hands felt on my arms and hip. Those thoughts slowly turned into other thoughts, fantasizing about the stranger in ways that were most definitely not ladylike. Finally falling asleep to the comforting thought of when I would possibly see him again.

--Time skip--

The answer to that would be never. I looked for him at the next party my father hosted, and the next one, and the next one. But he was never to be seen at any of them. I asked stadwatch guards I met about the boy with the pearl revolvers and none of them knew. Eventually, my memory of the stranger grew faint. I couldn't remember the details of his face or the sound of his voice, but no matter how fuzzy the memory of my moment with the stranger got the warmth of the kiss he placed on my hand that night stayed with me forever.

~Fin~

QOTD: Who's your favourite crow?

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AN: so originally this was supposed to be continued and much longer than it is here, but I just felt that it was a nice ending, so I cut out the longer version and ended it like this, however....... I still have the other version of this story, so I'm thinking of posting that version as well as keeping this version up. So let me know what you guys think. But I hope you enjoyed this.

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