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purplelupins · 2 years

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My Pretty Girl

|The Black Phone|

Albert Shaw(The grabber) x fem!reader

Summery: After getting roped into watching over your older sister at a house party, you come to realise that the uncomfortable situation might be better than you think. Sure it’s not Max’s house like you were told, and sure there’s a house full of people you don’t know, but there’s that nice man with bright blue eyes and a sweet voice that keeps you company. It couldn’t be that bad, right?

MINORS DNI PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD

Warnings: Mentions of partying, alcohol, and cocaine, age gap, manipulation, masturbation, daddy kink, filthy thoughts

Note: this was a 7000 word commissioned piece by @trashutjr and if you are interested in requesting a commission, you can tap on the link

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A phone call was how it all began.

A shrill ring of the teal phone in your kitchen made you pause your dinner. A part of you already knew who it was, but you optimistically hoped your intuition was wrong.

With your sunny thoughts dwindling quickly as you walked to the kitchen, you picked up the receiver and held it to your ear before uttering a gentle, “Hello, this is y/n speaking.” Always such a polite voice.

“Hey lollipop!” The voice of your older sister, Ellen, came through the phone, and your shoulders dropped slightly. Your intuition had been right, and while you usually praised yourself for it, tonight you cursed it. Mentally wishing it away.

It wasn’t that you disliked your elder sister, you got along surprisingly well; it was that over the past few years, the only time you received a call from her was because she needed something…usually with no intention of returning the favour. She already had a running tab with you, and a list of ‘I owe you’s a mile long, but family was family.

Plus, she only called you Lollipop when it was a favour she knew you wouldn’t like to partake in. The last time that sickly sweet name and tone came through to your ear, it had ended with you getting an elbow to the cheek from your heavily intoxicated sister’s friend, Karen, and you driving the two of them to Ellen’s little apartment outside the city. Herding them up the building’s dingy stairs was a whole other story.

“Hi Ellie…” you replied softly, half hoping she just needed directions to a bar.

A relieved breath came from the other end of the phone, “I know this is last minute…but you’re free tonight around 5, right?”She asked hopefully.

Ah. You closed your eyes and sucked in a breath, “Yep. Was just about to eat dinner.” Indeed your dinner was staring at you like the boneless girl you were when it came to Ellen.

Ellen laughed, “It’s 4 o’clock! You’re such an old lady sometimes…” that stung a little, “Listen, I know you don’t have a lot going on so I thought I’d take you to a friends tonight for some drinks and hanging out. You’ll come right?”

Which translated to: I’m going to get drunk and high and I need you to drive me home, so come be the sober one.

You felt the ‘No’ on your tongue, but it wouldn’t come out. If anything happened to her, you knew you would never let it go.

“Sure. What’s the address?” You asked, “Do they have any animals?” After going to enough of Ellen’s parties, it became habit to sit with the cat or dog that the stranger owned. You liked to bring treats, just in case.

“Um, one sec-“ she turned away from the phone and you could hear mumbling, “Hey, yeah he has a dog. It’s at 7742 south Irving St. I’ll see you there!” She blew you a kiss through the phone, and hung up before you could ask anything else. Your stomach already felt uneasy at the thought that this was a man’s house you were going to, but you pushed it aside.

It was a warm evening, and while you truly did not want to be out, a slow grin made its way onto your face; the fresh air enveloped you like gentle, warm fingers. You hopped on your bike, and pedalled off in the direction of the house, dog treats and a water bottle tucked in your bag.

Before long, the two story houses on the edge of the city turned into one stories, and you turned from East Anderson road to South Irving. You began counting the addresses, slowing your pace until you saw 7740, and stopped at the simple brick house beside it. Sure enough, your sister’s car and a couple others were outside,

With a deep breath, you walked your bike up the driveway, and leaned it against the side of the house before you knocked on the door tentatively. You could already hear loud voices inside, and you cringed.

Before you could back out, the door swung open to reveal a man in his mid to late thirties and a light blue dress shirt, and a thick moustache. He regarded you for a moment, and it only took you a moment to see his dilated pupils a a little bit of white powder caught in his nostril. “Hey, what can I do-“

“Lollipop?” You heard Ellen call from inside- a slight slur to her voice.

Then a look of recognition washed over the man’s face, “Oh you’re Ellen’s baby sister, come on in. Wish my name was Lollipop.” He said happily.

You tried to return his easy smile, but it likely came out as a tight line instead, “Thank you. I’m y/n…” you said as you walked inside, “Ellie just calls me that sometimes…”

He nodded enthusiastically and you looked around the modest home as the smell of cigarettes and alcohol wrapped around you. It was a mess. Littering the coffee table and floor where beer and brandy bottles, along with some bowls of chips and…were those dog treats? But what drew your attention the most was the almost violent array of clippings pinned to a cork board on the wall. Your brows pinched in the middle when you tried to take a look, and you noticed photos of the missing boys.

You felt a twist in your gut when you realised this was some conspiracy party…and even as you listened to the conversations being had, your thoughts were confirmed.

What have you gotten into now, El…

From her place on the couch, you heard Ellen call your name, and you slowly looked over at her with a small smile; she returned it with one far larger and dazed. Everyone you saw her like that, you wished she ran with a better crowd, a sober one at least. Though you figured that after living a life with an alcoholic barely-there father, one of you would turn out on the bad side…it just hurt to see your older sister filling that role.

You waved to her and said a few greetings to the other unfamiliar faces in the room- a total of three women including your sister, and four men. All of them older than you, and all of them not noticing your presence. Not that you dwelled on it. Your attention was soon captured by a large black dog that laid in the corner. The smell of beer instantly went away as soon as you began to walk over to the hound, and you grinned at your new companion.

It picked up its large head, and watched you closely as you crouched down, “Hello you…looks like it’s just us tonight.”

Huge dark eyes stared back at you, and blinked. Taking that as a sign that the dog wouldn’t rip your face off, you sat down beside it, and took your bag in hand. As you were about to ask if it could have treats, your words died in your mouth; the man whose house you were in was very animatedly explaining some wild theory of his, and all eyes were either on him or a tempting body part of another man or woman. You prayed to god that this wouldn’t turn into a cocaine orgy.

You sighed and just hoped for the best as you fished out the the baggie- surly the dog had no allergies. Instantly, the dog’s eyes perked up and it’s head rose again in acknowledgement of the goodies.

“That’s Sampson, he’s a big sap…might not let you go if you give him treats!” The man called over to you as he took a swig from his beer.

You still didn’t know his name. You knew his dog’s, but not his. Regardless, you nodded and laughed gently as your attention returned to the massive dog. “Well Sampson, I would just take you home with me if my landlady allowed it. Guess I’ll just have to keep you in my pocket.” You cooed to him as you held out two treats, which he ate greedily. You wondered when the last time he had been fed was.

A half hour passed, and you were slouched comfortably in front of Sampson, trying to get him to catch a treat from high in the air. He wasn’t amused. You were happy for the distraction, especially since the last time you had looked up, your sister had one of the male attendees’ tongues down her throat.

It wasn’t that you were a prude or judging her, but something about seeing your sibling making out with someone made your stomach uncomfortable.

Max -as you had finally come to hear him referred to as- was still very animatedly talking about various topics that you had completely lost track of when the front door swung open, and for the first time, you saw him stop talking. From your standpoint, you didn’t see who had opened the door, but from the look of recognition on Max’s face, this wasn’t good or expected.

“Max what the fucking hell is this?”

Another man stepped through the door; he was taller than Max, and clearly older. He slammed the door shut, which made you jump, and your nerves were set on high.

“Hey Al…just some friends I invited over, no biggie.” Max tried to sooth the older man -Al- but it seemed to have the opposite effect.

“Oh I see. A little get together?” He mocked, “I let you crash here for a month, Max. You make a mess of my- is that…Christ clean that shit up.” You saw the older man catch a glimpse of the cocaine still on the coffee table.

You felt sick.

This wasn’t even Max’s house. You almost wanted to shout to the man that you were sorry and just bolt, but then you remembered the tether that kept you there. Ellen. And she barely looked awake.

Max pulled Al into the kitchen, and you watched anxiously as they continued their heated exchange.

“Listen Albert I’ll make it up to you okay, I got this interview comin’ up and I’m sure I’ll get it-“

But Albert shook his head in disappointment, “I don’t want your money, I want my house back. With none of that shit everywhere.” He gestured pointedly to the coffee table.

That was all you could hear until Max clasped his hands in front of him and seemed to reason with the older man.

From what you could gather, Albert was too tired for the younger man’s antics, and gave him twenty minutes before everyone had to be out. You didn’t blame him. Hell you only blamed yourself for not asking more questions about this gathering.

Sampson watched the conversation as closely as you, and you wondered if he was even Max’s dog. You doubted it. So you sunk deeper into your seated position, and heaved a sigh as your hand stroked the hound’s fur.

Albert took several long deep breaths as he wrenched the fridge open and grabbed one of the last of Max’s shitty beers. It wasn’t like he drank much, but after a long day at work, and now this, he needed something to take the edge off. He cast an irritated eye around his once very orderly home, and was about to roll that watchful gaze at the sight of the idiotic smatter of articles Max had taped up when something stopped him.

Someone.

For a moment, he stared; raised the cold drink to his lips, and watched. A young woman was curled up next to that mutt that was supposed to intimidate, and he watched as you held a fearless hand out with a little treat on it for Sampson to devour.

Albert’s eye twitched. You were young. Very young. And definitely sober. Your movements weren’t sluggish, and there were no bottles near you aside from-

Oh what a diligent little girl…

Aside from the water bottle sitting by your bare thigh.

You were pretty- very pretty. Your hair was a little untamed and he wondered if that bicycle was yours. Judging by the light muscles in your legs, it was definitely yours. Albert drank again. You wore a little sundress that was bunched up and wrinkled around your legs, and a cardigan that looked too big for you.

A-fucking-dorable. Absolutely adorable.

And was that a damn ribbon in her hair? Wrapped up like a little present just for me? How considerate.

Albert sighed, and quickly made a list of what would be needed to perfect an interaction with you. He saw your eyes flicker nervously to him a when you thought he wasn’t looking…once, twice, three times…Come on little bunny look at me one more time- ah. There you go. Good girl.

But as much as he wanted to stride over to you and drag you to his room or basement by your hair, he decided on a different approach. One that felt very much like torture, but it would at the very least distract him from wanting to throttle his brother. So, the older man sucked in an irritated breath and walked briskly past the gathering, past you and Sampson -though he didn’t miss how his foot brushed against your toes- and went to his room. He shed his work shirt, and ran a hand through his hair as he contemplated his next move. Albert knew you had watched him as he walked down the hall, so you acknowledged his presence and you were attentive. As he stood there he even let himself imagine that you followed him to his room and begged for his forgiveness-

Fuck.

The older man looked down at his pants, and saw his cock twitching as it strained against the fabric. Closing his eyes, one arm braced against the wall, he palmed himself and imagined it was your little hand stroking him instead.

It took thirty seconds for him to spatter cum inside his pants.

Albert gasped to settle his breathing, and twitching limbs as his sensitive cock shifted in his ruined pants. He wanted you. Badly. With that thought in mind, the older man made quick work of stripping himself, and changing into fresh clothes before he grabbed his beer and slowly walked back to the living room with a practiced air of distain and irritation.

Again he had to pass you to get into the living room, and ‘accidentally’ brushed your foot a little harder this time; he murmured a quiet “Sorry” but paid it no mind as he plopped himself down in one of the chairs- conveniently close to you. He didn’t even look at you- he wanted to see if you actually cared-

“E-excuse me?”

You had watched the man walk off with a tight jaw, and return about ten minutes later in fresh clothes. It was like a blow to your gut when you imagined how tired he must be; probably returning home from work only to find this. His voice was soft when he had apologised for bumping into you the second time, but if you were honest, his apology only made you feel worse when you should be the one apologising. Hell you shouldn’t even be there.

So in favour of repairing the brittle status-quo, you shifted on your knees away from your furry friend, and moved a little closer to the man as he stared at the articles pinned to the wall. You spoke gently to get his attention and you saw him cast you a slow look of indifference.

His gaze pinned you to the spot, but you tried to not get struck by his sharp blue eyes, and forced some clumsy words from your mouth, “A-Albert, right? Um…I didn’t know- that is…uh…I’m really sorry about all this. I didn’t know this wasn’t Max’s house…I can’t…” you sighed, “I’m just so sorry.”

Well that was a mess.

But Albert relished your nerves. You should be nervous. It was a blessing the basement was empty or who knows if Max’s little party might have found his newest guest…and then he wouldn’t be able to play with you.

Albert watched you, and took another drink before looking away and nodding to his brother, “You’re a friend of Max’s?” He asked you.

Your eyes widened and you shook your head defensively, “Me? No. No I’m the designated driver so to speak…I’m Ellen’s little sister.” You pointed to your inebriated sibling, “Sort of got roped into coming. If I had it my way I would be laying on the couch with some ice cream.”

He eyed Ellen for a moment in distain, then looked back to you. Beautiful little you.

Albert cocked a brow, “Your daddy lets her run around town like that?” He asked chidingly towards your sibling in her intoxicated state, and he watched an array of emotions flicker over your face at his question. Interesting.

“N…no. Well, he’s not really in the picture.” You sighed and absently rubbed Sampson, which caught Albert’s eye. It was odd to see the dog so…docile.

“He doesn’t usually like strangers.” He murmured as he shifted to look down at you a little better now. His interest was growing the more you knelt beside him.

Pretty.

Young.

Sweet.

Open.

Attentive.

Naive.

Malleable

A little laugh bubbled out of you, “Well I think I might have bribed him a little,” you took out your almost empty baggie of snacks, “I hope that’s okay…this isn’t my first time being in a strangers house to watch over my sister and ending up sitting with the house dog or cat. Thought it might be nice.” You rambled on.

Albert squeezed his drink -wishing it was your throat- and grinned, “Can’t complain. The old man could use some company.” Not the only one.

You laughed again. He liked that sound. He wondered what you would sound like whimpering as he-

“Yea, Max joked that if I was too nice to him he wouldn’t let me leave.” You smiled easily and looked back down at the black dog that rested near you.

Albert almost laughed at your words. Sampson wasn’t the only old dog that would rather keep you to himself.

She’d probably look pretty in chains…

“That’s true. He’s very…territorial.” The older man said, and smirked as he gazed down at your sweet form. If he turned his head just right he could see down your dress…fuck…no bra? Albert already felt himself twitch in his pants again.

He wondered if you wore any panties.

Albert could have come right there again just at the thought.

“Well I think he’s sweet. He’s yours?” You asked, shyly.

He nodded. Now, you were looking up at him with undivided attention, just like he wanted. Some charm and garnered sympathy was all it took, too.

Whether it was because you felt terrible and wanted to make him feel a part of the gathering or something else, you weren’t sure. But you knew he had beautiful eyes and a nice voice, so you happily payed attention to the sweet man.

You shifted a little closer and leaned up onto your heels to place your arms on the side of Albert’s chair, “By the way, I’m y/n-“

“Lollipop, there you are!” Ellen yelled far too loudly when she remembered you existed.

Albert watched you squeeze your eyes shut.

Lollipop? Christ please tell me that’s her nickname for a reason because I’d give her something to suck on…

You sighed and slowly opened your eyes to look over at your sister who was smiling at you, and you grimaced as she munched on a dog treat. “Hi Ellie.” You replied, hoping she wouldn’t get all lovey-dovey now that she was inebriated.

“Why’re you over there? Come sit with us!” She slurred and waved you over enthusiastically.

Albert watched you closely, almost wanting to speak up for you to tell her you were staying right there perched by him. But evidently, he didn’t need to.

“I’m okay over here…Albert’s keeping me company.” you said, and unconsciously patted his arm. Albert almost jumped at the feeling. It seemed your refusal was enough for her, as she turned away and shrugged, leaning into the man next to her. Then you looked back at Albert and found his focus on you already, “I…I hope you don’t mind. I’m not much of one for…those sorts of things…”

A relieved sigh left you when you saw a look of understanding on the older man’s face, “Are you sure you’re the younger one?” He teased you in a quiet voice, finishing his beer, and spreading his legs.

You nodded and rolled your eyes at the question you had heard a million times.

“Positive…plus…” you beckoned him a little closer and he relented instantly, “I think it’s worth saying that one of those bowls of chips are actually Sampson’s milk bones…and while I like to try new foods, I’m a little sceptical…” you said with a cheeky laugh, which only continued when Albert’s eyes widened and his head whipped around to inspect the dishes.

“For fucksake…” he whispered under his breath, and when he turned back to you, your hand was covering your mouth as you hid your laughter. But it faded and that remorseful look came back to you when you remembered this was his home.

“I’m really sorry about all this…” you whispered, but then noticed just how close you and Albert had become and sucked in a breath. He was less than a foot away, and his breath fanned across your cheeks; you were a little dazed, and noted how soft his hair looked.

He smirked, and shook his head, “You didn’t do this…and besides, it seems having an idiot for a younger brother payed off since I get to talk with a pretty little thing like you, hm?” Albert perched his chin in his palm and gazed at you, now only a few inches away.

Your words died on your tongue.

“Well…I…um. Wait you’re brothers?” You asked, trying to find a single coherent thought.

He breathed out a laugh and nodded, “Yes ma’am, Max over there is my baby brother if you can believe it…”

You looked over at the mentioned man, and shrugged, “I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, but intoxication makes you age faster…so if I’m honest I would have guessed you were the same age.” You said softly, a heat rising to your cheeks when you saw the small grin on Albert’s lips.

He has nice lips…

“Now you’re just flattering me.” He murmured, still gazing at you from his perch.

Your cheeks burned. “N-no it’s true! I mean Max isn’t bad looking but…you’re-“ again, your words wouldn’t come out. Especially not now with yourself halfway to severe embarrassment. When you realized how forward you were being, you sank down onto your calves, now having to crane your head to look up at Albert if you did have the courage to do so, but in that moment, you didn’t.

And Albert was having none of that. He clicked his tongue in a tsk, which instantly made you look up.

So responsive.

“I’m what, sweetheart?” He cooed to you.

Come on my pretty girl…tell me.

You couldn’t help it. Your heart leapt in your chest at the pet name.

Deciding to take things a step further, he reached out with his free hand, and brushed some hair away from your face and tucked it behind your ear, “Hmm? What am I?” How far can I push you?

Your eyes fluttered at his touch, but you quickly snapped out of it and blinked, “Well you’re… handsome. Definitely.” You murmured, and looked away to try and seem aloof, even though you were far from it. His hand was huge and warm against your cheek as it engulfed it.

“That’s sweet of you to say, y/n.” He whispered and drew his hand away, which you missed instantly. “Why does she call you lollipop?” The question had been sitting on his silver tongue for six minutes. He needed to know.

Your cheeks burned even more and you moved some of your wayward hair away from your ear, “O-oh. Um…they were my favourite candy when I was a kid. Still love them and I get made fun of for it because they’re childish.”

Talented tongue then.

Albert nodded, “Well that’s not very nice.” He said with a little pout that made your eyes flick to his lips again.

“Well people aren’t always very nice.” You whispered, the weight of your words all too heavy.

Your breath fanned across Albert’s face and he had to keep himself from inhaling deeply.

“Do you think I’m nice, sweetie?” He murmured, tilting his head to the side. You had come closer again, though you didn’t even realise it.

You nodded, “Uh-huh.”

“I think you’re nice too.” Came his whisper that make your pulse quicken and a heat stir in your belly-

“Looollliiii!”

Both you and Albert blinked and turned towards the sound of your sister. Usually her sing-songy voice calling your name would set you at east to get out of the house as soon as possible, but this time, you didn’t want to go. You cursed her timing too.

“Let’s gooo!” She hopped on the spot where she stood, and nodded to the door.

Not in the mood to fight, you slowly stood, and found that Albert did too. He had his arms crossed, and you had to fight with yourself to not stare at his arms.

“It was uh…really nice meeting you, Albert.” You said with a shy smile; the older man was barely a foot away, but you didn’t move. Even when he grasped your chin and tilted your face up to his, you just stared back at him with your cheeks ablaze.

“I hope I’ll see you again soon, sweetie.” He murmured and stroked your chin.

“Come oon!” Ellen wailed from outside.

You sighed and shook your head, “I am sorry again for this mess…take the rest of these for Sampson…I think he might need some new snacks after tonight.” You smiled and bit your inner lip to keep from laughing.

But Albert didn’t smile back. If he did, he might not have restrained himself from leaning down to bite that lip or suck it until you were begging him for more. But he managed to keep his cold eyes gentle, at least long enough to fool you into thinking he was harmless. “Don’t let the bedbugs bite, bunny.”

Don’t let the bedbugs bite, bunny.

His words ran rampant in your mind as you drove your sister and a friend to her apartment. Even when you hauled your bike out of the truck and pedalled home, you didn’t notice the black van that followed you from afar as you remembered how his hand felt on your cheek and chin.

You didn’t even remember getting into your apartment or into bed, but what you did know was that tomorrow was Saturday, and your day off, and that you were going to go back to that house and apologize.

That poor man deserved that at least. Perhaps some fresh cookies…

When the warm morning sun shone through your window onto your face, you took a long breath to calm yourself. There was something about that man that made you nervous…but nervous wasn’t the right word. Something akin to nerves but so much warmer. Balancing the plate wasn’t an option with your bike, so you decided a long walk and bus ride would have to suffice.

You checked your watch for the fifth time once you got off the bus, even though you didn’t have an appointment. It felt like you did though, especially with how much your hands were trembling and your heart was beating frantically. South Irving st. ha d never seemed so long and so short at the same time. Once you passed 7735, it seemed the houses jumped right to 7742, and you were confronted with the brick house you had pulled your sister from just ten hours ago.

With a long, deep breath and a twisted gut, you walked up the path, and to the front door. You knocked before you could back out, but then your logical brain kicked in and you realized you didn’t even know if he would be home.

But you couldn’t dwell on your possible mistake for too long, as the door in-front of you swung open, and you were greeted with those same blue eyes that had plagued you all night.

“Well, what do we have here?” His shocked expression melted into one of mischief; you didn’t need to know it was actually self satisfaction.

What a good girl…coming back to me so soon.

Your cheeks were instantly scorched, but you tried to keep yourself calm, “Hi Albert…um, I just felt so bad about last night and I doubt Max helped you clean up…so I made you some cookies this morning,” you held up the plate, not able to meet his eyes, “A peace offering.”

Albert smirked, and tilted his head at your inability to look at him.

Just grab her and tie her to the bed…Max isn’t home so make her scream-

“Aren’t you just the sweetest? Come on in., y/n.” He said gently, taking the plate from you and moving aside; but not enough that you could move without brushing against his front to get in. He almost groaned at the feeling of your chest against his as you slipped inside.

Now as you looked around, the house resembled much more of a home than a fraternity house. It was very tidy, and actually very comfortable; you started to wonder if Albert had a girlfriend who helped with the cleaning, because in your experience, most men didn’t clean like that.

But most men weren’t Albert.

You walked into the kitchen behind Albert and watched him place the cookies down. “Would it be terrible if I indulged?” He asked you; the double meaning, however, was lost on you.

“It would be terrible if you didn’t.” You chirped back with an encouraging nod.

Albert felt himself pulse in his pants; imagining you saying the same words right before he’d force himself inside you and watch you cry out. He bit into the cookie and moaned, half from the taste, and half from the subtle rock against the counter he did. “Might have to hire you to make these for me all the time.” He joked once he recovered.

“Oh you wouldn’t have to pay me. I’m just happy to give you something yummy! I’m glad I caught you today…wasn’t sure if you’d be home.” You said, not knowing whether to get comfortable or walk to the door.

Albert took another bite lest he ask if you could be the yummy thing you’d give him so willingly; he began walking towards you, and you gathered it was time to go. “I get weekends off, so if you’re ever in the neighbourhood, you know when to find me.” He said. But instead of walking to the door, he sat at the couch, and you took that as an invitation.

As you sat down, you failed to notice how the older man shifted closer to you so once you settled, and successfully invaded your space- after all, it would be rude to move away. You wore another dress that day- a little soft blue one that you didn’t wear too often. Albert took another bite of the cookie, and chewed it thoughtfully, at least that was what you thought. You didn’t need to know that he was thinking of anything he hated to keep himself from coating the inside of his pants with his cum again.

“How did you sleep?” He asked, turning a little to see you better; the last bite of the cookie in his hand.

You bit your inner lip to keep from smiling and blushing. He didn’t need to know that you had woken up with ruined panties, “Oh not bad. Got home late after dropping everyone off.” You shrugged and shifted, but your knee brushed his in the process.

Albert grinned gently, and rested his head in his hand as he braced his elbow against the back of the couch.

“Such a good girl…bet your daddy would be proud of you.” He murmured, watching you so closely. He had said the same word last night, and you had reacted…he was curious if you would again.

Albert soaked you in. How your face glowed and your hands trembled; how you couldn’t look him in the eye.

You’re going to be mine.

Then he blinked, and his voice was light, “I’m so sorry, I’m being rude. Did you want one of those delicious cookies?” He asked as if nothing had happened.

You grinned at his kindness, “Oh, sure. Just a half is okay.” You said, not wanting to take away your gift from him like a greedy child.

Albert returned your grin, but you missed the dilation of his pupils, “Open.” He said, and held the last bit of cookie he held in his hand to your lips, which made your brows pinch in surprise; but before you brain could catch up, you parted your lips and let him place the cookie in your mouth. Albert hummed in satisfaction, and held your chin as you chewed, “Good, isn’t it?” Came his lofty whisper that made your head cloudy.

So fucking obedient

You could only nod slightly.

He could see the dazed expression on your face- Albert might not have been terribly experienced in the art of seduction, but he knew that the girl in his hand was at his disposal.

“You like me, don’t you sweetheart?” Albert purred, leaning closer to you. He was growing greedy.

You finally looked away and shrugged half-heartedly.

“Ah, look at me.” He chided you with a tap to your nose.

You swallowed and your eyes fluttered.

“You like it when I touch you?” He cradled your cheek, drawing small circles by your mouth.

You nodded again.

“Say it.”

“I…I like it when you touch me.” You whispered.

“Yeah?” Then he pulled away and relaxed into the couch, “Do you want to touch me?”

You fought to think. What did he say?

“Yes.” You breathed out, your mind was completely gone.

Albert hummed in satisfaction, and sucked in a breath.

This is going to be fun.

Without a word, he took your hand in his, and brought it to the crotch of his pants where his cock was hardening quickly. He flattened your palm and used it to stroke himself, grinding his hips into your hand, “You feel that? You did this. I was fine until I saw you last night…I fucking came in my pants when I went to change. Thought about fucking you right there in front of my brother and your sister…” he rasped. His predatory eyes were locked onto yours.

You stared at him, not able to move or speak.

“Did you get all wet for me, sweetie? Let daddy check.”

Just like that, your brain shut off.

“Come here,” he cooed, pulling on the hand that he held against himself. You stood up and came to stand between his spread thighs as he continued to stroke himself. He stared at you for a moment, then reached under your dress to pull your panties down and growled when he saw the darkened patch where your cunt had been.

Embarrassment should have frozen you, but like a woman possessed, you placed a hand on his shoulder and stepped out of them. You knew you should be concerned, but your mind was empty. Perhaps it was the shock of the sweet older man -who you had known for a total of 13 hours- now grasping your soaked panties in his hand and raising it to his nose, or maybe you were just naive to fully understand what was happening.

He sucked in a long breath.

“Why didn’t you tell me what a mess you were making, sweet thing?” Albert murmured; you felt his large hand around your arm, and pull you into his lap, “You’ve just been torturing me, you know that? That’s not very nice of you…” he pouted and tilted his head to the side.

Your lips parted, and you fought to think, “I…I’m sor-“

“You’re sorry?” He cut you off, “Is coming back to my house in a little dress like that…with cookies and soaked panties with no intention of letting me have a taste…sound sorry to you?” Albert mocked you.

A taste? But the cookies were for him-

“I’m not talking about those cookies.” His eyes seemed to grow predatory the longer he stared, and it wasn’t until the fabric of your panties brushed against your thigh that you noticed he was rubbing them against his pants to stroke his cock. “I’m talking about that cunt between your thighs that I could smell as soon as I opened the fucking door.”

Gone was the lofty, gentle voice you had heard before. Now all you could hear was a low growl that settled into your bones.

Your mouth dropped open as you listened to those depraved words leave his lips. Never in a million years did you think that he would be relaying such filth to you, and you certainly didn’t think you would listen, but there you were.

“Come on, where’s that pretty voice of yours?” He rasped, slipping his free hand into your hair before grasping it painfully, “Answer me.” He snapped.

You jumped in fright and fought to find your words, “I-I just…”

“You just? You’ve gone all silly, hm?” Albert soaked up your embarrassment, and rocked into his palm, “Or maybe you just want me to touch you?” His hand in your hair released you, and slipped down to your thighs where he paused, “Lift your dress up for daddy, sweetie.”

He saw your jaw drop sweetly at the title he gave himself.

So she likes that? What a filthy little thing…

You let out a shuttered breath, and moved your shaking hands to the hem of your dress.

“That’s it…” he encouraged you.

You pulled the hem up over your thighs and bunched it around your waist so you were completely exposed to him.

Albert sighed out a gravelly breath that sent a shiver down your spine; before you could blush from his heavy gaze, his hand was back in your hair, and those lips you had admired were against yours. You gasped in surprise, and put your hands on his chest as if to push him away, but that sweet taste was still on his tongue and it slipped into your mouth, and you were helpless. Albert groaned at the feeling of your body relaxing, and smirked to himself when he felt your little hands gripping his shirt.

His hand left his pants, and opted to wrap it around your waist to hold you tight against his body as he stood with you wrapped around him. You gasped and accidentally bit his lip, tasting blood; you pulled away and began to stutter out a meek apology but Albert said nothing as he strode to his room, and threw you harshly onto the bed.

You stared up at him, not even caring that your dress was flipped up for him to see your -shamefully- glistening thighs; he was ripping his shirt off in a flash and crawling over you before you could take a proper breath.

“A-Albert-“

“Shut up, sweetie. Let daddy make you feel good.” He rasped, pulling on your legs to shift you closer to him. The older man bunched up your dress around your waist, and pressed a harsh kiss to your navel before he was nipping at your thighs. Then, again, he paused and reached up to his lip and dabbed it before looking down at his finger.

Blood.

Your eyes went wide when you saw that his lip was definitely bleeding, but they only widened when you saw his breathing grow heavier.

“Now look at what you did. Say you’re sorry, bunny.” He murmured in a strangely sweet but stern tone.

You felt so tiny.

You couldn’t breathe.

He smacked your thigh. “Say it!”

“I-I’m sorry.” You whispered.

“You’re sorry…?”

“I’m sorry, daddy.” Your voice was a shell of what it usually was. Your brain was so busy playing catch up, that you could barely even register the words in your mouth.

Albert closed his eyes and sighed heavily.

“That’s my good girl. See isn’t that easy?” He cooed, kissing where he had slapped.

You nodded and sucked in a breath at the feeling of his lips on your thigh, moving higher. The sensations were too much, and had you squirming to try and alleviate the intense sensations. But Albert only grinned and chuckled as he skipped the rest of your leg and planted a open kiss right on your clit.

A loud whimper echoed through the house, and it took you a moment to realise it was coming from you.

“Did that feel good, bunny?” You heard Albert ask from between your soft thighs as he did it again, “You like my mouth on your little pussy? I bet you do.” He kissed you again, but this time he sucked your clit into his mouth. Hard.

You cried out and tried to wriggle out of his grip, but Albert had his hands and arms around your hips, pinning you there for him to use you as he pleased.

“Ah, ah…hold still.” He bit your thigh, then returned to your soaked entrance, this time slipping his tongue inside you. Your eyes rolled back, and you arched your back; he ground himself into the mattress at the sound of you mewling so prettily for him. Albert returned to your clit, and sucked on it slowly. It had been years since he had done anything like it, but he caught up quickly with what made you rock into his mouth for more. He could feel you start to tense as your pleasure built up; your hands found their way into his hair and your attempts to hump his face were adorably pathetic.

“I- I…p-please I’m-“ you stuttered.

“That’s it, you’re gonna come?” He mocked you, slipping a thick finger inside you and stroking against your sensitive spot, “You’re gonna come when I get to 1, okay?”

You nodded helplessly, right on the edge.

“5.” He sucked at your clit, and you screamed.

“4.” He slipped his tongue inside you along his finger.

“3.” He slipped another finger inside you, and you felt tears running down your cheeks from trying to hold back.

“2…” he sucked at the skin of your thigh-

Then he pulled away completely. Nothing touching you.

You bolted up, eyes wide and teary.

What-

“You didn’t think I’d let you come that easy did you?” He tilted his head to the side all innocently, and rose up onto his knees.

You must have looked like a kicked puppy judging by how he chuckled mercilessly at you, “Now why don’t you take off that little dress and sit pretty for me.” His voice was ragged as he crawled next to you and nodded down by his feet.

With your eyes glued to his, you slowly lifted the dress off yourself, and let it fall beside you. In the back of your mind it registered that it was the exact shade of his eyes, and you wondered if you had done that on purpose.

Albert wondered too.

Of course she did.

She’s yours, whether she knows it or not.

Albert grinned wolfishly and blindly began undoing his belt, “You’re going to watch. And if you try anything…well you’ll find out.” He winked down at you, which you answered with a deep blush.

You watched as he unzipped the fly, and the head of his cock was already peaking out from the top of his briefs, eager and weeping pre-cum. His large hand gripped it and pulled the shaft out completely, and you couldn’t help but let your jaw drop open.

“What’s wrong bunny? Too big?” He murmured like he cared.

You didn’t say anything, only staring. Then Albert began to stroke himself, his hips bucking up into his hand after keeping himself on the edge for so long. You watched, feeling your pussy clench around nothing at the sight of the older man’s cock.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw his free hand go to his pocket and pull something out; you let out a whimper when you saw it was your panties that he was now wrapping around his shaft as he pumped.

He eased his thumb over the head, and hissed at the sensation. Albert took in your sweet, desperate little form and how your hands were clenching so tightly to refrain from reaching out.

Such a good fucking girl.

“You want this don’t you?” He rasped, gripping his cock tighter to make his point, “I bet you’re making a mess on my clean bed, aren’t you?”

Your breathing came in heavy gasps, and you nodded.

“Get the fuck over here.” He growled. You barely had time to move before he gripped your arm and pulled you onto his lap.

Albert held your hip in one hand and his cock in the other. Up close now, you were nervous as to wether or not it would fit, but he didn’t let you fret too much before he was pushing the swollen head inside you.

“Ah-“ you gasped, clutching onto his shoulders. He was huge, and it felt like you were lit on fire.

“I know sweetie, but it’s going-fuck…it’s going to feel so, so good-“ he groaned and thrust up and forced another inch inside you. You knew you wouldn’t be able to sit properly for days at the sheer stretch of him inside you alone.

Albert was entranced by his cock getting swallowed up by your body, and he had to force himself to hold back lest he fill you his his cum right there. But oh how pretty you’d look all shocked.

He gripped your hips with both hands and pushed you down his length until your hips met his, and you choked out a pained gasp. The bulbous head of his cock dragged against your walls so firmly you saw stars, and couldn’t help but clench around him.

“You like that? Huh?” He rolled his hips and drew a moan from your lips that made his cock twitch, “I can fucking feel you, you little- fuck!” You met his hips as he rocked against you, and you both gasped at the feeling.

You wished you could form a sentence to make him as flustered and flushed as he did, but all you could do was grip his shoulders for dear life, and whimper.

“You fuck every old man who says you’re nice? Huh?” He chided you.

“N-no-“ you breathed, grinding against him, already feeling your orgasm build.

“No. I didn’t think so. You’re a good girl aren’t you? You’re mine, right?” He rasped, thrusting up against you.

Your mind was clouded with lust and you nodded.

“Say it. Say you’re mine, sweetie. You belong to daddy.”

“I’m y-yours-“ you murmured, head lolling into the crook of his neck.

That easy huh? That’s my girl.

“That’s right.” He gripped your hips even tighter until it hurt, and bucked up into you.

“I-I-“ you stammered.

“You’re going to try and come again?” He growled into your ear, biting at the skin. You nodded helplessly, and let out a sob, “Yeah you fucking come. Come on I’ll be nice.” He rasped; you swore you could feel his voice vibrate through you.

It took two more rolls of his hips for you to break, and you were well aware of the fact that your vision went dark, and your hearing was null.

Albert felt you tighten uncontrollably around him, and pressed your face into his neck when a scream tore from your throat. A gush of cum soaked his shaft, and he almost stopped breathing at the feeling. Your shaking legs and sobs sent him over the edge, fucking himself into your slick pussy until his cock throbbed and his cum began to fill you up. His hips kept rocking against you until he felt his pants grow saturated with your joined cum. Then, when he slowly came back to his body, he felt how you had slumped against him. Boneless.

So trusting.

You were almost limp, and Albert began to wonder if you had passed out as he cradled you there with his cock still inside you. But then, after five blissful minutes, you slowly raised your head to look him in the eye and Albert felt something inside him pulse with a need from the way you looked at him. There was a certain devotion in your blissed out face- an almost thankfulness.

A lovingness- it didn’t matter if it was from the brutal fucking you had just received or a true adoration. To Albert it was all the same, and he wasn’t about to let you go. It didn’t matter how it started, he was going to keep you with three words.

“My pretty girl.”

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@dancingisdangerouss @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @dogmatic255 @honeycovered-bandaids @ethanhawkestan @theroadreader @ebiemidnightlibrarian @lxdyred @eth1calcannibal @al-shaw @katehawke

#albert shaw #the grabber thirst #the grabber x reader #Albert Shaw x reader #the black phone 2022 #ethan hawke

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almanacrat · 2 years

Text

Holier Than Thou (part 3)

Eddie Munson x femReader

Warnings: swearing, smoking

Y/n sat at the dingy cafeteria table, picking at the lunch on her plate. She sat in the far corner of the room with three other students who were particularly quiet as well. None of them ever talked to each other, they just accepted that each of them wanted to have lunch without interruption.

Sometimes Y/n did want interruption though. She wanted to escape the cafeteria and go on an adventure when she should be in school, maybe drive a few towns over and cause some trouble where no one knew her name. She knew she would never do this. Not because she didn't want to, of course, but because of the fear of her father finding out.

“Get up.” Eddie was standing over her, his usual smirk plastered onto his face.

“What?” Y/n questioned, but still stood up warily.

“Come on.” Eddie grabbed her backpack and slung his arm around her, leading her through the cafeteria. “You’re sitting with us today.”

Eddie ushered Y/n to a table with two empty chairs, the rest filled by guys wearing Hellfire shirts. When Eddie approached with Y/n, they stared at her like she was from a different planet, which, to many of them, girls may as well have been from a different planet.

“Gentlemen, this is Y/n. Y/n, this is the Hellfire Club.” Eddie announced with a grin, pulling out a chair for Y/n to sit in.

A chorus of “hi” and “hello” sounded throughout the table.

“Dude, I can't believe you got a girl to sit at our table.” A curly haired boy said, then continued to Y/n, “Hi, I’m Dustin Henderson.”

“Nice to meet you, Dustin.” Y/n smiled back at him, unable to resist his cheerful nature.

“Hey, you’re the preacher’s kid, right?” Another asked.

“Uh, yeah...” Y/n replied hesitantly.

“The preacher’s kid at the Hellfire table. Who would've thought?” Another kid with dark hair added.

Y/n sat uncomfortably for a few seconds before Eddie started speaking again.

“Where were you this morning?” He asked. Y/n had been missing from their science class this morning due to an untimely car problem.

“My dad’s car wouldn't start so he made me stay behind to look at it.”

“You’re into mechanics?”

“A little bit. I’m not an expert by any means, but I can work my way around a car. Did we get our grades back?” Y/n wondered as today they were supposed to receive the grades on their presentations.

“I was just about to tell you about that.” Eddie spoke regretfully, making Y/n furrow her brows in confusion, her eyes going wide. “We didn't do very well.”

“What? But we did everything right. I mean, we followed the rubric to a T and-” Y/n started to ramble before Eddie cut her off.

“I’m kidding.” Eddie said before retrieving a piece of paper from his backpack “Boys, and girl,” Eddie added with a glance at Y/n, “Today is a day to remember. We got a 100 on our science project.”

Two weeks had passed since the day Eddie had decided Y/n would sit with him at his lunch table. Y/n and the Hellfire Club got acquainted with each other rather quickly, and although Y/n didn't understand DND, she would gladly sit through their nerdy ramblings.

Y/n had been invited to sit in on one of the meetings today. If it had been any other group that invited Y/n, she would have said no without a second thought. Hellfire was different, though.

Currently, Y/n, Eddie, and Gareth sat in the back of Eddie’s van. The three decided to hang out there after school as the campaign wasn't until 5:00. Y/n stared at the smoke coming out of Gareth’s mouth, entranced by the way the cloud of smoke billowed into the air. Y/n had never lived around people who smoked, only having seen her grandfather smoke one time. Gareth noticed her staring at the cigarette in his hand like a toddler staring at a new toy.

“Want a hit?” Gareth asked as he held the cigarette out for Y/n to take.

“Sure.” Y/n murmured, reaching out to take it. Right before Y/n could take it, Eddie slapped her hand away.

“No. I’m not letting you smoke.” He declared, eyes fierce and serious. “Don't offer her a cigarette again.”

“Sorry, dude.” Gareth replied, to which Eddie rolled his eyes.

“Let’s go. It’s almost five.” Eddie’s voice was grim. He walked away from the trailer with long, angry strides.

“Eddie.” Y/n called, trying to catch up with his large steps. “Eddie, he didn't- he wasn't-”

“I don't care. He shouldn't have offered it to you.” Eddie continued angrily, not slowing down.

“Why does it matter?”

“Because I know you’d regret it tomorrow.” Eddie halted in the empty hallway, turning to face Y/n.

“I might not regret it.” Y/n insisted.

“Yes you would. I know you, Y/n, better than you think I know you. You would wake up tomorrow morning and feel guilty as hell, and the you’d be freaked out all day.” Eddie crossed his arms. Y/n knew he was right. She knew she would feel guilty and scared when she saw her father’s face staring at her. Still, she was relentlessly tempted to try it. “Don't feel pressured to do something just because the people around you are doing it.”

“What if I want to do it?”

“You don't want to, Y/n.”

“I want to know what it’s like.” Y/n replied, making Eddie pause.

“Fine. If you still want to smoke in a month, I’ll let you do it. Deal?” Eddie stuck out his hand.

“Deal.”

Taglist: @mrsdarcyinlovewithbuckybarnes @slightlyalarmedskeleton @songsforthesaints @mymindsnothereanymore

#eddie munson fic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie stranger things #eddie #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things smut #stranger things #stranger things season four #robin buckley #steve harrington

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wolfeyedwitch · 3 years

Text

And Still Part 10

No. 20 - LOST & FOUND

trunk | trapped under water | solitary confinement

Have some backstory! CW for experimentation on children, imprisonment, unethical (and unrealistic) science

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9

Masterlist

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The girl didn’t understand why she was there. Where was her mom? Mom always said it wasn’t safe to get separated, that the streets were dangerous for little girls alone. She wasn’t on the streets, but this place still felt dangerous.

Her mom had said she had found a way to keep them both safe and healthy for a long while. Even get them some food, better food than searching through the dumpsters behind the restaurants! And then she had introduced her to the man.

The man had looked so out of place there on the streets with them. Men like that were supposed to be somewhere clean and shiny, not in the dim and dingy corner where she and her mom stayed. But he had come up to her and knelt, and said that her mom had given her to the man for a while. Like a babysitter. She didn’t quite understand, but her mom said it was okay, so she went with him.

He had led her to a shiny black car and helped her get into the back seat, but he hadn’t gotten in. It was another man in the driver’s seat, one who looked more out of place away from the clean and shiny center of the city. The new man drove off somewhere. She just hoped he would drive her back when it was time for her to meet her mom again; otherwise, this was going to be a really long walk.

Streetlights seemed to flash by as they drove underneath them, until eventually the man parked and led her into a building. It was huge, all clean glass and shiny metal, so much bigger and nicer than the buildings she was used to.

The man took her hand and led her inside. There they met a bunch of people wearing weird white coats. They all seemed busy, but they all nodded to the man as he led her deeper into the building.

“I don’t understand,” she said quietly. “Why am I here? The other man said I was just supposed to be here for a little bit. When can I go back to Mom?”

“In a while, dear,” the man said, not looking down at her as he talked. He obviously didn’t want to talk to her, so she didn’t talk.

Eventually the man handed her to one of the people in white coats. “This nice woman is going to take you to your room, little lady,” The Man said. “And then you can get some food.”

“And then you’ll take me back to my mom?” she asked. This was all so strange.

“Eventually,” he said.

So she let herself be led into the little room. It had a bed! A real bed, with a blanket and a pillow even! There was also a table next to the bed. On the other side of the room was a sink, a mirror, and a toilet. That was weird, but she was so excited about the bed that she ignored her bad feeling about this.

The woman who led her inside smiled at her, though her eyes seemed weird for someone smiling. Too cold and hard. “I’ll be right back. I just have to go speak to the acquisitions manager.”

She didn’t know what that was, but she knew it was always a good idea to learn more. So she cautiously walked over to the door and pressed her ear to it.

“We’re taking children now?” That was the woman’s voice.

“I was informed the process had a higher success rate on younger subjects.” That was The Man talking. He sounded unhappy. Not angry, but maybe… annoyed?

“True enough.”

“And you are being compensated more than adequately to ignore any potential moral qualms you might have about this, I trust.” Now he sounded scary. She understood that, even if she didn’t know most of the words he used.

“Y-yes sir, it won’t be a problem sir!”

“Good. Send updates as soon as more data is available. Interdepartmental communication has been too lax recently. The boss wants that to be improved.”

“Yes sir.”

Footsteps clicked against the tile floor, and she hastily stepped back from the door before it opened to show the woman again. “Hello again, dear. Sorry for that interruption. My name is Dr. Jackson, and this will be your new home. Can you tell me what your name is?”

“Hi Dr. Jackson! I’m Avery.”

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

Lynnura woke up in a cell. Everything was metal and plastic, nothing she could control with her powers. She didn’t see anyone else around. The last thing she remembered was…

Avery!

She had been fighting against Corporation’s people, trying to give Avery a chance to escape before they caught her again. She had seen Avery running off before one of the henchpeople got a lucky shot in with a tranq dart.

And now she was in a cell.

Fuck.

There was a polite knocking near her cell door. She looked over to see a man in a neat black suit standing there. The whole thing, the man in his business attire knocking politely at the entrance to her cell, was so incongruous she almost laughed. Almost.

“Lynnura, formerly of Heroes League, correct?” the man asked.

“And you’re the Chief Acquisitions Manager for Corporation,” she said back.

Cam smiled, showing perfectly straight white teeth. “Perfect, so introductions aren’t necessary. I am, as you pointed out, an acquisitions manager for Corporation. As such, I take it rather… personally… when one of our assets leaves our facility. You were seen with her, rather recently in fact! So tell me. Where is Asset 541?”

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

Asset 541, they called her. Sometimes they would use her name when talking to her face, but any other time, she was Asset 541.

She wasn’t sure what they were trying to do, the doctors and techs at this place. Sometimes they would bring her to the labs multiple times a day, giving her pills or injections or drawing blood. Other times they would leave her alone for a week straight, her only contact with the outside world the hand that slid her food into her cell.

Because that’s what this room was—a cell. She was a prisoner here, for reasons and purposes she didn’t understand. They could try to disguise it with pretty words all they wanted; they could give her food and books and at least a basic education, but at the end of the day, they all left this building and went home. She stayed in this 6’ by 8’ room.

She hated them. If she ever got a chance, she would run as far away from this place as she could and never look back.

The tests continued as she grew from chubby-cheeked little girl to gawky pre-teen and teenager. And as time went on, she got more of a sense of what the tests were doing to her.

It started with the mice. The labs almost always had mice on hand for one test or another. As early as her first day, she could tell they were there, even without seeing them. She could feel them, a little nudge in the back of her head. On the streets it had kept her and her mother safe from rats; here it was just a thing that was, just some small talent of hers.

It expanded from there. Corporation had many more species than just humans locked up in the building for experimentation; Avery grew to be able to sense them, even from floors away. The scientists always asked her questions about this. She never told them about her sense’s expanding range. They may have known about her little skill when she first came, but she wasn’t going to tell them anything. She wouldn’t help them with whatever they were trying to do.

Over time, it grew from just sensing the animals’ presence to sensing their thoughts. After more time and more tests, she was able to communicate back. She was still questioned about her skills, and she still pretended nothing had changed.

She was worrying that they were catching on to her, though. They had started doing tests on the animals at the same time as they talked to her, and she couldn’t always hide her flinches as she felt the pain the animals went through. More and more often, she overheard the doctors discussing how she was being uncooperative and they might need to change tactics for best results.

She never had to find out what those different tactics might be, though. Somehow, something went wrong on another floor one day. It was a lab accident bad enough to send the facility into evacuation.

One of the mice cages got knocked over in the employees’ rush to get out. The mouse inside jumped onto the employees and managed to grab a keycard from one at Avery’s urging. It got the keycard to her through the meal flap in her door, and from there she was able to open her cell and escape.

She left the facility, leaving Asset 541 behind. She was Avery again, and she was never going back.

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

“I don’t know any Asset 541, or any other asset you might have,” Lynnura said coolly, never taking her eyes off the man.

It was even true, in a way. Avery had told her about what had happened to her, why Corporation was after her. But Avery wasn’t their asset; she was her own person, and she had a name, not a number.

“Don’t play cute,” Cam said severely. “Our security personnel saw the two of you together. You fought to keep them away from her.”

‘Security personnel’ is a cute way to say ‘hired mercenaries’, Lyn thought. Out loud, she said, “I don’t know who you’re talking about. I was alone when your ‘security personnel’ attacked me without provocation.”

Cam scowled at her. “Fine. If that’s the way you want to play it? Then we’ll play it your way. Just know that you have no leverage here. You burned all your bridges with Heroes League when you threw your lot in with our asset, and she won’t come back for you. She’s a runner, always has been. If she gets spooked, she takes off and doesn’t come back. Don’t count on her help any time soon.”

He turned to leave, but called back one last sentence over his shoulder. “I hope you enjoy being alone, because that’s how you’ll be until you agree to cooperate with us.”

With that, he left Lynnura in isolation.

@heathenville @nonbinary-disaster @kim-poce

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hopeless-ro-simptic · 4 years

Text

Familiar Cerulean Eyes Pt. 5

Click here for other parts. Part 6 is up here.

Sorry for the delay, midterms kicked my butt and then I was sick all weekend, but here it is! For those wondering where Shoto is, don’t worry, he’s coming. This chapter is more of an introduction to the rest of the League.

Word Count: 2.5 K

Taglist: @skzero-99 @superblyspeedydragon @jparra4587 @flyingowls @emrysaaryn @imuziawi @sheedaabee @peculiarinsomniac @littlelovebug98 @plutoneu @giftofwonder @kitty-kat-ash @fukyouthink @anarchys-bnha-mess @threbony @orenjineki @toobsessedsstuff @bamf-barnes @x-a-delama-x @inanabsentia @reallyshey @godsblesstheboi @operatorsdime @drownedbytears

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You expected there to by some sort of delay, making you sit in the black mist for a moment, a brief second before entering wherever it was taking you. There wasn’t. So, with no preparation at all, you were dropped into a corner of a dingy looking bar, surrounded by the unfamiliar scents of strangers. None of which you could assume were good company.

Dabi immediately shoved you behind him up against the corner, standing between you and the rest of the villains all of which who’s eyes immediately locked onto your own as you peeked out from behind him. There was no hiding your omega’s scent.

“My, my, someone smells delicious… what do you have there lover boy?” An Alpha on the other side of the room with a mask covering everything but his mouth and eyes stared back at you, smile on his face, a marble being rolled between his fingers.

“She’s so cute, I want a taste.” Golden eyes, wide with excitement, followed your movements as the petite blonde beta bounced in her seat, a knife between her fingers. You think you recognized her as the one that was called Toga, Shoto and his friends had run into her a couple times now. She had some kind of blood quirk and was obsessive with people.

You shrunk further back into the corner, eliciting a low growl from Dabi, which only made the alpha’s smile across the room widen.

“Now now pretty boy, why don’t you let the pretty girl say hello?”

The second beta jumped in now, his scent confusing your omega as it smelled both sweet and spicey, strong and weak all at the same time. “She should join us. Kill her she knows too much!” He sounded like two completely different people when he spoke, if you weren’t watching him you couldn’t have been sure that both voices were him.

The last person in the room, other than Shigaraki and Kurogiri, a scaled alpha with purple hair that sat the closest to you stayed silent, watching and listening.

You had barely blinked and the small blonde in the school uniform was in your face, peering around Dabi a wide smile across her features, her tongue licking her vampire like teeth.

“I’m Toga, that’s Twice, Spinner and the fancy guy in the top hat is Compress!”

“Toga!” Shigaraki growled out in annoyance.

“What? Everyone already knows who we are anyways! It’s rude to not introduce yourself.” Toga turned back to you, her crazed smile still wide, knife still in her hand. She took a step towards you only for Dabi to burst into flames, essentially engulfing you as well, forcing her to step back several paces.

“If anyone touches her I will rip their fucking heads off and burn them to a crisp”

The room was immediately filled with the scent of your panic rising as you tried to cower away from the flames licking at your skin but not burning you. You tried to rein in the panic, knowing you were fine but the sight and smell of the flames and smoke had your omega chirping wildly for help from an unknown source.

Dabi put out the fire as soon as everyone was far enough away, not even bothering to glance back at your terrified form. What the fuck was that? Did he know you couldn’t be burned? Did he care?

It was then that you noticed the deafening silence that followed. The questions hung thick in the air as everyone watched as your unscathed form looked up at Dabi with distress on your face. Even the hoodie you were wearing was barely burnt at the edges, making you wonder if most of his clothes were fire resistant somehow.

Kurogiri was the first to react, appearing suddenly in front of your form between you and Dabi, causing a low warning growl to be emited from the alpha, but the calm and collected beta ignored him completely.

“What’s your name little one?”

Dabi watched, ready to step in at a moments notice, but shockingly, you didn’t feel any malice coming from the well dressed mist in front of you. You had heard about majority of the member of the league from the Todoroki’s, mostly Shoto, but you were still amazed at the mist in front of you. Did he have a body? His scent was so soft and calming, even for a beta. It was so easy to miss. Like a light rain on a spring morning. It was no wonder you didn’t notice him when he first entered Dabi’s apartment earlier.

Everyone else was silent, watching on with curiosity as Kurogiri prompted you a second time.

“Your name?”

“Oh.. um… Y/N” You felt oddly at ease speaking to the mist in front of you, he didn’t have nearly the same effect on your omega that the other villains in the room did. You felt like he wouldn’t hurt you for some reason. You weren’t scared of him.

“Y/N…and can I ask what your quirk is, Y/N?”

You glanced over to Dabi, his face unreadable, before glancing around the room. As much as you didn’t want to tell the league of villains anything about yourself, you knew they weren’t going to leave you alone until you answered.

“Nullification skin… quirks and their effects that are outside of my skin don’t usually work on me. It’s pretty hit or miss though.”

Dabi glanced over to see that Shigaraki, who had been silently scratching away at his neck this entire time had stopped, glancing at his hands and back at you the question clearly written on his face. Dabi let out a snarl stepping towards the other alpha, ready to take him on if he so much as reached for you again.

“That doesn’t mean test it.”

You could see the blue haired alpha growing angry with how Dabi was talking to him. You didn’t want to be in the middle of another fight between the two.

“Come now, let’s not fight over the pretty damsel, I believe we have a mission to discuss?” Compress had spoken again, his eyes watching you with interest and something else. He made you uneasy.

“He’s right. Show and tell is over. We can deal with your little pet later. Kurogiri, get her out of here.”

Before Dabi could react, you were once again sent through the black mist of a portal, a soft chirp leaving your lips.

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

The room you were in was small and looked like a prison cell if you were being honest. Maybe it was, after all you knew that the League of Villains was not above taking hostages. There was nothing in the room other than a toilet in the corner and a mattress on the floor, as well as a camera perched high up in the corner of the ceiling. Not even a blanket to keep you warm. There wasn’t even a door, which really had you confused. You guessed that the only way in or out of here was through a teleportation quirk. You curled up in the corner, on the mattress pulling your knees tight against your chest, tears streaming down your face as you cried silently.

You had always been a cry baby, the Todoroki pups used to tease you about it all the time, even Touya. Especially Touya. You felt like today you were allowed to cry though, given everything that has gone down in the last day or so. You felt like every five minutes you were going to die, and now the only person who seems to care about your safety, even though he is the one that kidnapped you to begin with, was ripped away from you, not to mention he clearly was hiding things. Like how he knew what your quirk was, or at least that his fire wouldn’t affect you. Had you been on fire at the market? Did he just assume you were fireproof? Or did he not know and just didn’t care if he burnt you?

The emotions that swirled in you were so confusing. You had been kidnapped, caught on fire, and almost killed.

On the other hand, your omega was over the moon at the attention you had received today. You hadn’t had someone look at you the way that Dabi does in years, in some ways ever. Were you just latching onto him emotionally because he is the nicest one out of all the murderers? You didn’t think so. Before the others were even involved he was kind to you. Sure he kidnapped you, and yes he was a cocky arrogant bastard that seems to think he has a claim over you. But he hasn’t even fully scented you yet. He hasn’t really forced himself on you. Not how a typical alpha would… and he gave you a blanket. Unscented. What alpha does that? For some reason, your omega, no not even, you were entranced by the blue eyed alpha. You wanted to smell him, to build a nest around him, to…

You frowned at your thoughts. Why were you going there? You barely knew this guy, and clearly he knew a lot more about you than you thought. You couldn’t trust him just because he was a little nicer than some of the other alpha’s you had known, let alone the other villains you were surrounded by. Just because he is only the second other person to get you a gift. Just because he reminds you so much of a red-haired alpha that you missed with every ounce of your being.

Your stomach growled and you realized there was no food in this room or water, you weren’t sure how long it has been or how long you would be in here. Surely they would bring you some food and water, since they didn’t kill you outright.

Or maybe they would all grab some popcorn and watch as you starved to death, your mind going crazy at the silence.

After a few more minutes, or maybe it was a couple hours, you weren’t sure, the black mist of a portal finally showed up again, Dabi stepping through, it closing behind him. He looked tired and annoyed, his hair all sticking up from what you assumed was him running his fingers through it. It was a sexy look that’s for sure, but you ignored your inner omega, refusing to acknowledge his existence as you continued to stare at where the portal had been. At this point you were done crying, now you were angry.

“I’ll be back in a couple days… you’ll have to stay here. It’s the best protection I can offer you right now. Tomura won’t even let me take you to my room here. He’s worried you’ll escape and go running to the hero’s” He glanced over at you, his hands buried deep in the pockets of his long cloak that was classic for his villain costume, a frown gracing his lips. “He’s probably not wrong I assume.”

“I want to go home,” His lips quirked up at your response. You sounded mad. Feisty. He liked it a little too much. He wanted to rile you up some more.

“I don’t doubt that, but which home are we talking about princess? The cage that is the number 2 hero’s domain? Or is it somewhere else?”

“What do you know about me?” Your eyes flitted over to his, a frown pulling at your face seeing that he was smirking per the usual. As much as your omega wanted him, there was no denying it at this point, you didn’t trust him for a second.

He squatted down in front of you, his arms resting casually on his knees, his face leaning in close to your own, the smell of alcohol on his breath.

“I know that you’re not wearing any underwear right now, cause I have your panties in my pocket. I know that the little gasps you make are sexy as fuck, and that you’ll probably be a good obedient little mouse once we get down to the nasty of things. I know that your lips look so damned kissable and I know that you want m-“ You shoved him, causing him to fall back onto the floor in front of you a weak hiss coming out of your throat, your face beet red.

“That’s not what I meant and you know it” the smirk on his lips wavering slightly as you turned away from him again, your voice flat. You were tired, you didn’t want to play his games right now. You were already starting to feel numb from the constant stress.

He let out a sigh, pushing himself back up onto his feet, pulling a walkie-talkie from his cloak pocket, tossing it to the bed next to you.

“Look, Kurogiri has the other one, if you need anything call him, he will get it for you. I’ll be back in a couple days and then we can get you into a more comfortable place okay? With a real bed.”

You continued to ignore him, wishing he would just leave you alone. Apparently having your life threated and being toyed with was exhausting. You curled up into yourself, facing the corner of the room leaning your head against the wall, as you heard the shuffle behind you the Alpha waiting for any kind of response.

After about a minute, he let out a soft grunt, turning to leave, pausing once more.

“Is there anything you want from the apartment before I leave? Maybe your old clothes for comfort…” You could barely hear the last part, a strange sadness tinting his voice. They only barely had Shoto’s scent on them, but you somehow knew that was what he was referring to.

Your omega spoke before you could even think.

“Can I have that blanket back... and some food?”

It was only a couple minutes after he left that the portal opened, your blanket, a singular pillow that after a quick sniff you confirmed was the one from his bed, and a bag of snacks and food being dropped onto the floor before closing again. You shuffled over grabbing the pillow and blanket planning to make what little of a nest you could when you noticed a sticky note with one word scratched onto it stuck to the bag of snacks. Reading it made your heart flutter in a way that you hated. Why did your omega want him?

Sorry.

#bnha omega #alpha dabi #omega reader #bnha #mha #mha omegaverse #dabi is a todoroki #dabi is touya #dabi #dabi x y/n #dabi x female reader #dabi x you #dabi x reader #crispy

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hammeredalcoholic · 3 years

Text

my only friend

kira yoshikage / reader ;

rating: mature, no 18+ content yet ; kira & reader are portrayed as 18 years old ; tension at the end of chapter

here is chapter 2! link to chapter 1. hope you guys enjoy this, i am falling back in love with writing this thing. cross posted to ao3.

here is a spotify playlist to go with this fic.

“you've been riding two wheelers all your life it's not like i'm asking to be your wife i wanna make you mine, but that's hard to say is this coming off in a cheesy way?”

The skies were covered in clouds, smoldering and dark, threatening to spill rain at any time. The air was chilly, causing goosebumps to line your arms and make the hairs on your neck stand up. Fall was just upon you, the summer months had passed within seconds it seemed. Not that you really cared-- autumn was beautiful, bringing colored trees and pretty sunsets.

Your shoes scuffed against the concrete you sat upon, your fingers barely holding onto a lit cigarette. You really ought to quit-- but the high of nicotine was just too much to give up. The taste of tobacco on your tongue was all you tried to focus on, but it was hard.

Hard when you sat outside of a dingy apartment, of a person you didn’t know, waiting for your companion to take their miserable life.

This was normal. You’d go a few days on the road, staying at whichever place you could, before Yoshikage started to feel the urges, as he called them. He had said it once before to you, and it was something that you hadn’t been able to quite let go.

“I just-- can’t help it,” His words were soft, and small. His hands were fidgeting in his lap, ghosting over the frayed edges of his baby blue sweater. “I can’t control myself when I get this way. It’s just that it’s in my nature to kill.”

Kira’s eyes were hidden behind his blond bangs, deep and dark and full of sorrow. He couldn’t help that he was this way, despite the fact that he wanted to live a quiet life. He didn’t want to be a bother on others, but it seemed like he had just dug himself in a hole.

Your mind jumped from that memory to another. The phone call. The one that changed your life drastically.

3:31 AM flashed on your alarm clock. The landline was ringing, practically jumping off your bedside table. Who the hell would need to call you right now? All of Morioh should be asleep-- your hand reached for it, gently picking it up off the receiver and holding it to your ear.

“Hello?”

A shaky voice was on the other end. Distant and gravely-- barely speaking above a whisper.

“D-Did I wake you up? I-I’m so sorry,” He sounded awful. Hiccups between every word, and you were positive he had been crying. “Yoshikage-- What happened? What’s going on?”

Yoshikage Kira had never sounded like this. He sounded so broken-- like a glass vase shattered across a concrete floor. There was a small hiccup, and a breathy sigh on the other end. “I made-- I made a big mistake. I need your help.”

A big mistake? What the hell did that mean?

“Can you please meet me at Reimi Sugimoto’s house? You know where that is right?” He sounded even more desperate with each passing second. Yes, you did know where she lived-- it was on your walking path to and from school everyday. It should only take you about 5 minutes to get there, if you booked it.

“Yes, yes, okay. I’ll be there soon. Whatever you do, don’t run away.” With those words being said, the line was cut off. Quickly, and being as quiet as possible, you got some pants and a sweatshirt on, stuffing a pillow under your blankets to make it seem like you were still sleeping. Thinking semi-clearly, you grabbed a backpack and put some extra clothes and your trusted pocket knife inside.

Slinging the bag over your shoulders, you grabbed your keys from your desk and slipped out of your room. This wasn’t the first time you had snuck out, so you knew each creak and cranny in the wooden stairs leading to the main entrance of your house. As quickly as you could, you slipped out of the house without a sound.

You quickly bolted to your car that was slightly down the street, thanking your past self for the distance. Your parents wouldn’t hear the car start, or you driving off to save your friend. Hopping in and starting the engine up, you quickly left in the direction of the Sugimoto residence.

Screams were faint in your ears.

Deciding that another cigarette was inevitable, you quickly pulled it out of the pack and lit it. You could have waited in the car, but-- you didn’t want Yoshikage to get hurt. You wanted to be there for him until the very end, so there you sat, against the grimy brick wall, feeling all sorts of out of place.

You let your mind drift again.

Driving well over the speed limit, you made it there in less than 3 minutes. From the outside of the house, it didn’t look like much had happened. The lawn was normal, the house the same as when you had driven past yesterday. That was until you noticed him-- a figure, clad in a pale blue sweater, sitting on the front steps of the building.

His hands, covered in his sleeves, were pressed firmly against his face. If it hadn’t been in the middle of the night, you would have been able to make out the bright red stains that coated his clothes. Quickly pulling the car to the side of the road, you got out without a second guess.

Quickly rushing up to the boy, you stopped only feet away from him.

“Yoshi… What-- What happened?” Blood. Blood on his sleeves-- his pants-- his hair. Fuck, his face was even coated in it. His hands dropped from his face, and he looked up at you with wide, cold-dead eyes. They were bright red and puffy, telling that he was sobbing his eyes out only moments previously.

“I-- I made a mistake.” Kira’s voice was only a whisper. If you hadn’t been listening, you would have thought it to be the midnight wind. “What mistake?” You pressed, stepping closer to the seated boy.

“I-- I,” Yoshikage stuttered, before tears lined his eyes. “I killed them.” He spoke so softly, before looking at his blood stained hands. “I killed them.” He stated, louder, looking up at you again. “I killed her parents. Her dog. And then-- her.” His voice was shaking, tears now freely flowing down his cheeks. “I don’t-- I don’t know what to do.”

You stared at him in disbelief. He-- Yoshikage Kira, the boy that grew up with you, silent but friendly, playing with only you throughout elementary, hanging out with you during middle school and high school-- your best friend. He had killed someone. Not someone, multiple people.

Fist shaking at your sides, chills running up your spine, sweat practically dripping from your temple.

You had a choice to make.

Leave him, let him get caught-- probably executed. Or--

“I’ll help you. Let’s go.”

You’ve never seen Kira’s eyes light up like that before. Bright blue, even in the pale moonlight. They were so blue, you swore you could have gotten lost in them. That’s your favorite part of the memory, thinking back on the relief he must have felt. It sent warmth through your body, butterflies floating in your stomach.

You knew, despite how much you question your own motives now and again, you wouldn’t be able to leave Kira. He’s been a staple in your life, much like you must have been to him. Why would he ask you for help if that wasn’t the case?

The skies had grown dark as you were reminiscent, and your stomach growling had alerted you that it might not be a bad idea to get some food. Glancing at the door to the apartment, you briefly wondered if Yoshikage would even notice if you left. But, then again, he might be hungry too. You weighed your options, and decided it would be best to just ask him.

Getting up to your feet, you flicked the butt of your cigarette over the railing of the complex. Your feet tingled with sleep, and your fists clenched as you stared at the awful wooden door. Your mind ran a million miles an hour, going through several thoughts about what he could possibly be doing behind that wretched piece of wood.

Just as you were about to knock on the door, it opened.

Kira stood there, eyes wide when he noticed you standing in front of him. He was absolutely drenched in blood-- his sweater was stained, khakis barely recognizable. His face and hair were also decently covered. His eyes quickly darted to his ruined chucks, and he spoke very softly.

“I-- I’m done.”

You let out a quick sigh of relief, and decided not to question him. “Well if that’s the case, how about we go get some food and find a place to clean you up?” Kira didn’t say anything, just nodded. With that, you both left the apartment complex.

As the night went on, you both decided that getting some fast food and trying to find a laundromat was in order. You were rather thankful for the dark, as the person who took your measly ones at the burger joint didn’t even bat an eye at your companion’s appearance.

Luckily, there was a laundromat just down the street. Pulling up and parking in the vacant lot, you both got out your burgers and ate in relative silence.

After downing your food in what felt like 3 bites, you looked over at your friend. He didn’t look like he was thinking about much-- his hands were steady, eyes somewhat glossed over from the food, and completely ignoring the fact that he was still very much covered in blood.

“Do you feel better?” The words felt almost foreign on your tongue, despite feeling like you asked him this every single time. Kira looked over at you, swallowing the bite he was chewing before responding. “Yeah. I do,” He rolled up the remaining half of his sandwich in the wrapper, putting it back in the bag. “But I would like to clean up my clothes.”

You snorted, grabbing your drink from the console and taking a few gulps. “I’m sure you would. It looks like it’s fairly empty in there, so I’m sure we’ll be fine.” You glanced at the clock in your car, and the bright red numbers informed you that it was well past midnight at this point. Kira must have noticed it too, and he began to get out of the vehicle.

Doing the same, you pulled the bag of quarters you keep in the console out and stuffed them in your pocket. You followed Yoshikage inside, quickly turning and locking your car before entering the building.

The place was very much run down-- old washing machines lined the dirty walls. Neon lights glimmered from outside, casting weird shadows across the floor. Kira kept walking to the back of the building, deciding to use the machines that were farthest from the windows. You followed him absentmindedly, hoping up on one of the machines and pulling out your little sack of change.

Yoshikage’s eyes glanced at your before they went down to his feet, and he quickly shrugged off his baby blue sweater. You swore that thing had been through its life cycle already-- ever since he got it at the beginning of high school, it seemed to be the only article of clothing he wore. He threw it into the washing machine next to you, his hands going back up to unbutton his undershirt.

At that point, you found it hard not to stare.

Yoshikage Kira may have been your best friend from preschool to now, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t attractive. Bright blonde curls and icy blue eyes-- along with a jawline that could surely cut glass.

The coins in your hand quickly became your second priority, as your eyes lingered on each inch of skin he revealed. This wasn’t even your first time seeing him semi-nude-- he sleeps in the same bed as you most nights. But this-- this was different.

Soon enough his button up was shrugged off and tossed in the washer, and you quickly averted your eyes to the coins you held in your palm. You were playing a very dangerous game, and you weren’t sure what Kira would do if he caught you looking at him like a piece of meat.

As you tried to count the quarters that were needed for the machine to run, you heard your companion’s shoes be kicked off. Then, the sound of a button and fly being undone made your cheeks heat up within seconds. Your mind was doing mental backflips, going back and forth between looking, and keeping your eyes down.

From the corner of your eyes, you saw his soiled khakis drop around his ankles, and he carefully stepped out of them, throwing them in the machine.

“Hey. I need a dollar and twenty-five cents to start it.” His words practically made you jump, and you held out your palm with the money he needed. Kira easily noticed how flustered you were, and let his fingers linger in yours while he took the coins. Soon enough, the machine roared to life, and you heard Kira take a seat next to you.

Swallowing your pride, you decided it wasn’t worth avoiding his gaze, so you looked over at him.

His skin was almost glowing in the awful lighting of the building, collar bones prominent and his muscles were exceptionally toned. You felt your eyes linger on his hips, almost tracing the V shape that dipped into his boxer briefs. As soon as you realized what you were doing, your eyes immediately went up to meet his own.

They had grown dark, silver pools watching your every move. A small smirk had formed on his lips, and you almost had to bite your lip from making any sort of noise.

Your mind screamed at you to look away. Stop staring at him and just look at literally anything else.

But then, something else happened that made your world turn upside down.

Did he fucking wink?

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chocolatecakecas · 3 years

Text

Baby Blues

Silence and Sound: Season 13 Destiel Fic Part 10

Part 1 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

read on ao3

Dean had always associated the bunker with silence. The soft hum of the the ancient heating system, and the dull buzzing of the lights.

It was a far cry from the dingy motels with their paper thin walls and strings of seedy customers.

Or the years he spent practically living in the Impala with her ever rumbling engine, listening to the legos rattling in the vents, or kept awake by Sam's endless snores.

So he could appreciate the silence. He had always found it comforting, at least that's what he told himself.

But now, the bunker is bursting with noise.

Plates and cups clinking in the kitchen, cellphones ringing off the hook, the beeping of the oven timer, and the stream of constant conversation.

The sound of tiny feet pattering on the concrete, plastic wheels squeaking on the wooden floors, the clang of legos on the map table, and the distant sounds of Toy Story playing on the tv in the Dean Cav- living room.

Shrieks of laughter ring through the halls, both young and old. Happiness and love filling every corner.

But it's also filled with sounds of despair.

(read the rest under the cut)

Screaming matches in the kitchen, muffled arguments behind closed doors, desperate pleading in the garage after returning from a hunt gone bad.

Wails of pain from a scraped knee, the clang of legos as they are angrily shoved off the map table and sent scattering across the floor, the distant sound of a temper tantrum in the living room.

Broken shouts and muffled sobs ring through the dark halls during the early hours of the morning. Both young and old. Yet, love still fills every corner, but often it only fuels the sorrow, strengthening the blow.

But today, it's filled with laughter.

Cas, pretending to chase Jack, who's giggling like a maniac, up and down the halls. His little feet slapping against the floors, as Cas yells behind him (in his signature "silly voices" of course)

Sam and Eileen at the map table, laughing as she tells a story about her most recent hunt. She ran into Claire and Kaia due to a huge miscommunication on Sam's end (He's still getting the hang of the whole "Hunter HQ" thing), causing all three of them think they were hunting three different monsters. But it's alright because now the girls are coming for dinner later, (at Cas' invitation and Dean's insistence) since they drove all the way here for a hunt anyway. It wouldn't be a full family dinner, because his Mom and Bobby wouldn't be back from their hunt in Montana for at least another two days, but that just means they'd have to have another unplanned-planned "get together", so he definitely wasn't complaining.

And Dean stands in the kitchen stirring milk, cheese and Star Wars shaped macaroni in a pot, spoon clanking against the metal.

He listens to the sound of his little family, the people he cares about most in the world. He hears as the sounds of their lives fill up the halls, and finds it difficult to remember the silence.

He finds himself struggling to hear the soft hum of the heating system, or the dull buzz of the lights.

And he wonders if he misses it? Wonders if he misses the comfort of the silence? Wonders if it wa-

Something crashes into his legs, ripping Dean from his thoughts.

Jack giggles as he tries to hide himself from view behind Dean's legs. He shushes Dean with a serious look, showing that he means business.

So Dean looks down and throws him an exaggerated wink, zipping his lips for good measure, which sends him into another fit of giggles.

Dean gazes travels back up to see Cas hanging on the doorway, cheeks tinged pink, and a knowing smile on his lips. And Dean's heart definitely doesn't skip a beat.

"Hello Dean, you haven't happened to see our son anywhere, have you?" Cas asks dramatically, making his presence known.

Our son, that always makes Dean's heart soar.

"Hmm Jack? Why no, I can't say that I have! He definitely didn't come through the kitchen" Dean responds playing along.

Jack shuffles behind Dean's leg letting out a little giggle.

"Oh, so then you wouldn't mind moving away from the stove and walking over here to help me look for him?" Cas teases, stretching his arms out for emphasis. Dork.

With a grin, Dean goes to take an exaggerated step towards Cas, but Jack pulls on his leg.

"Daddy! You promised" Jack shouts in disbelief, hanging on Dean's legs.

"Sorry bud, but you were so quiet that I completely forgot you were there" Dean says with mock surprise.

Jack opens his mouth to retort, but Cas hums alerting him of his presence again. His eyes go wide, realizing he gave away his hiding spot, as Cas takes a big step forward.

And at that, Jack races from the room, with a shriek of laughter. Dean and Cas share a laugh watching him go.

God Jack is getting so big, 18 months. He's gonna be two this year, and Dean's heart clenches at the thought. Of course, being half angel he's developmentally "older" than two, but Dean doesn't like to think about that.

He turns towards Cas again, watching him fondly gazing at the now empty doorway.

And almost 10 months with Cas.

Cas' eyes finds their way back to Dean's, as they always do. So Dean stares back.

And it's this moment that Dean realizes just how human Cas has become, even with his grace intact. With his messy hair, his rumpled blue "dad" sweater and jeans, his mismatched socks, the soft smile on his face that crinkles around his eyes. And it hits him how far they've come.

It's been 18 months since that night wh-18 months since Jack came into his life. And a lot can happen in 18 months. You can fall ass backwards into raising a child, slow down a bit on hunting, start dating your best friend who’s been the secretly been in love with for years, who came back to life, and raise the child with him.

Something warm settles in his chest.

Dean refocuses on Cas, and notices a look he's never truly seen on him before. A look that says, "there's no place I'd rather be, than right here". Of course Cas has made it clear that this is what he wants, but he's never worn it so plainly on his face before.

It's contentment.

And it knocks the wind out of Dean's lungs.

It's been almost 10 months since Dean and Cas got their crap together.

And of course, it isn't easy. There's screaming matches, sleepless nights, petty fights, and more baggage between them than you would find in an airport.

But Dean wouldn't trade a second of it. And apparently, neither would Cas.

Because Cas is content. Here. With Dean.

Cas is actually happy here, with the little life they've created. This is where Cas wants to be, and this is where Dean wants Cas to be.

And in this moment Dean is rapidly realizing that it's all terrifyingly real.

And Dean's never felt this way in his life, about anyone or anything and he's, scared, but god it's the good kind of scared. And he-

He catches a slight dip in Cas' smile, which snaps him back to reality. His thoughts must have been clear on his face.

Shit that's not what he wan-

He quickly tries to convey the same look of contentment through his own features, giving Cas a smile. A real one.

And he must somewhat succeed because Cas' smile returns, but a question still lingers in his eyes.

So Cas parts his lips, most likely to ask Dean if something's wrong (Cas never lets him get away with anything), but Jack's laughter rings from the other room. So he huffs a laugh, and begins to cross the kitchen making his way to the other door.

But not before he places his hand on Dean's shoulder, and presses a soft kiss to his cheek.

Dean's heart swells. God that never gets old.

As he pulls back, he meets Dean's eyes again, leveling him with a look that Dean knows all too well. A slight smirk with a raised brow, that definitely doesn't make Dean's stomach flip.

It's his signature, "I know you Dean Winchester, which means we are definitely talking about whatever that look on your face was, later". And of course he always pretends to be annoyed that Cas can read him so well, but god if it doesn't make Dean's heart race a little every single time.

So Dean just gives a shit eating grin in return, and Cas' smile morphs into a smirk.

Then Cas is leaning forward, ready to capture his lips with his own, Dean happily following his lead.

But then, Cas pulls back at the last second.

And before Dean can even open his mouth, Cas gives a tight squeeze to his ass, and then he's bounding away through the door.

He hangs on the door frame for a moment, giving Dean a wink, and then he's gone, laugh ringing down the hall. Friggin tease.

"What a little shit", Dean laughs to himself, rolling his eyes fondly.

As he turns back to the pot on the stove, he hears Cas exaggeratedly wonder where Jack has gone, followed by the sound of Sam and Eileen joining in on the fun.

When he grabs five bowls from the cabinet, he makes sure to listen to the laughter echoing through the halls.

And Dean begins to wonder again.

Maybe he didn't find the silence of the bunker comforting, maybe he nev-

The laughter swells in the other room, feet stomping on the wooden floors. The love of his life, his son, his brother, his new best friend and hopefully one day sister-in-law. His family. Laughing together without a care in the world, on this lazy Sunday afternoon.

And well, Dean can't say he misses the silence much at all. In fact, he's actually quite content with the noise.

I just wanted to say thank you from the bottom of my heart to everyone who read, liked/reblogged, or left lovely comments on this story! I have not written in years, this fic happened by complete accident, and I never could have imagined the love it got! (I do love this little "universe" so maybe look out for some more baby jack in the future)💓 AND a very special thanks to @wormstacheangel and @smiledean who listened to me complain and yell about this fic every week💓💓💓💓

Tag list:

(As always,please let me know if you would like to added or removed!!💛)

@wormstacheangel @smiledean @shelikestv @chaoticdean @midnightwings-deancas @jellydeans @sunshine-jack @archervale @wikiangela @organicpurplepants

@writtendevastation @tkdwolf2012 @doemons-blog @rolling-stoned-girl @skylerkernaghan @shadowywerewolfqueen @the-cookie-navy @thelahatiel @thefantasyfiend @castielle-deanna @aestheticflyer26

@multi-fandom-imagine @x-mypeopleskillsarerusty-x @wellofwoes @becky-srs @multi-fandom-dark-lord @perfectkoaladream @castiel-for-lunch @it--hurts--to--become @bowtiesandneckerchiefs @dakiaty @feraldean @teamfreebees @keshetcas @hrh-princess-bea @martymar1963 @winchester-novak

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andfollowthesun · 3 years

Text

come kiss me silver and gold

written for @dinlukenation's dinluke week day 5! prompt was: knight/prince au.

read it on ao3 if u prefer (5.6k words)

Din is covered in sand and krayt dragon blood and other various fluids when he enters the inn, the smell of it lingering in his nostrils and causing everybody to go silent once he steps past the doorway. Peli swoops the kid from his arms as soon as she sees him, and it’s testament to how exhausted he is that he doesn’t protest. She points up the stairs, “Bath’s waiting for you,” and he only spares her a grateful nod before trudging to his room. He’d usually be a little more considerate— beskar is heavy, and Peli’s stairs don’t deserve his clomping footsteps— but given the day he’d just had, he figures he’s allowed to take a few liberties.

Maybe that’s why he doesn’t notice Luke the first time, because when he comes back downstairs, body and armour clean, vision still tinged the same red fog as the colour of the dragon’s stomach lining, he finds it hard to notice anything but Luke.

He’s sitting in the corner, alone, and that’s the first thing— nobody ever came to Peli’s alone, or if you did there’d be someone trying to swindle you or sell you something within the first five minutes. But he’s just sitting there on his own, a berth of at least four or five seats between him and any other patrons.

The other thing is that he’s so still. Head bent over some papers on the table in front of him, empty plate pushed to the side. Hands steepled in front of his nose, only one hand gloved, brow furrowed. For all appearances, he held himself with the calmness of a man who knew he had all the time in the world and knew exactly what he was going to do with it all.

Din tears his eyes away when Peli sets Grogu down on the seat next to him, along with two covered bowls of stew. He reaches to gather Grogu in his right arm while balancing the bowls in his left, to take up to this rooms to eat, but Grogu rips the covering off one of the bowls and in the blink of an eye is wrist deep in food, half of it already smeared over his mouth. Din stares at him, the grainy feeling in his brain meaning it’s a good few seconds before he computes the fact that apparently, he’s so tired even the kid has faster reflexes than him right now. He’s acutely aware of the way his stomach is cramping with hunger, but he knows getting Grogu to stop eating for the five minutes it will take to move them to their rooms will be more effort than it’s worth.

Peli’s smiling at him, a half-crooked, reluctant twist of her mouth, and Din tilts his head in thanks for watching Grogu as he cleaned up. She nods in return before heading back to the kitchen, and Din settles in to wait for Grogu to finish his dinner. He runs a gentle hand over his head, before letting him grab hold of his thumb and chew on his glove. It’s clean. Mostly.

His thoughts are interrupted when the chair across from him scrapes out with a loud screech, and he looks up to see the dark figure from the corner now sitting at his table.

“Hello.”

Din is suddenly glad that his signature response to people introducing themselves unexpectedly to him is to stare them down in silence, because currently, behind his visor, he’s gawping. The man in front of him, for lack of a better word, is bright, even more so now that he’s right there instead of in the corner. Din feels like he can’t look at him directly, needs to steal glances through his lashes instead, like a bloody schoolgirl. But at the same time, he can’t look away.

“My name is Luke.”

And the last sign that Din has completely lost his mind and is going delirious with exhaustion— and perhaps also that he’s getting old if he’s so easily soft for shiny, pretty boys— is that he answers, before his brain has really caught up to his mouth, “Din.” Not with continued stony silence, not even Mando. His actual name.

“Din.” A smile spreads across Luke’s face. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Din is thankfully saved from answering when Grogu pulls on his glove a little too hard, overbalancing to tip forward and flip the remainder of his dinner over on the table. Din clucks his tongue, and leans forward to clean up the spill.

“Be careful, kid.” he chides, and he’s in the middle of claiming Grogu’s bedtime as his graceful exit from the conversation when Luke holds up his ungloved hand.

“Let me,” he says, and with a wave of his hand, flicks the tissues across the table to clean up the mess, and then sends them flying neatly into the bin across the room.

“What,” Din says, “the fuck.”

That seems to cow Luke a little, or, at least his smile turns sheepish. “Sorry,” he says, even though he doesn’t seem very sorry at all. In fact, now that Din has been staring at him for a couple of minutes and can decipher some of the twitches of his brow, the jut of his jaw, he seems, of all things, a little smug.

Din refuses to think about how the neat motion of Luke’s hand— something he was clearly practiced in, confident, precise— showed the delicate bones in his wrist, which only made him look more fragile, and Din especially refuses to think about how his mouth had watered with the sudden desire to lick over the joint. He has no interest in competing with some wizard in a weird ego game, no matter how attractive he is, so he gathers Grogu more firmly in his arms and makes to stand, but before he can pick up the other bowl that contains his own dinner, Luke speaks again.

“Wait!”

And there’s something in his voice that makes Din pause; a note that wasn’t there before. It’s not quite a cry for help— Din can already tell Luke is too proud for that— but it’s close. That brightness that had first caught his eye before is more apparent than ever, and Luke looks at Din with pleading eyes that rivals Grogu’s.

God, how is he even prettier like this? He curses himself for being weak, and sits back down.

“Sorry.” Luke repeats. His posture as slumped a little, and the bravado from before is all but gone. It’s like he was trying to be someone else before and now he’s exhausted from the effort. “I’m not very good at this.”

Din tilts his head questioningly.

“Making friends, I mean.” Luke elaborates.

Din has to stop himself from snorting. The last friend he made was Cara, about ten years ago. He didn’t need to make friends. He had the kid. He knew enough people.

Luke takes Din’s silence as an answer, and changes the subject. “What brings you to Naboo?”

This, at least, Din knew how to respond to. “Business.”

Luke’s face goes cheeky. Din knows his answer sounds suspicious on a good day, and he knows that Luke knows that. What he doesn’t know is why Luke’s face now looks like a foundling’s on Life Day, momentarily flooring Din with this new, relaxed, open expression. He’s still holding himself incredibly still, but not like before where he was tensed like he was trying to prove something, or even before that in the corner, when he seemed to be propping himself upright with the sheer force of that stillness. Din finds that he likes this version of Luke best so far, bottom lip full with smiling, one dimple sitting on the corner of his mouth, and despite himself, Din finds himself leaning forward.

“What brings you to Peli’s?” he asks, trying to level the playing field. It didn’t seem fair that Luke already had such an effect on Din, when he was still just sitting there, regarding Din slowly, deliberately.

“What,” Luke spreads his hands. His tone is affronted, but the cheeky smile is still on his face. “A man can’t come get a drink?”

“To Peli’s?” Din doesn’t keep the incredulousness out of his voice, and he only lowers his voice as an afterthought. No need to get on Peli’s bad side, but if Luke wants to be secretive, that’s his own business. Din knows what it’s like to hold everything you know tightly to your chest. It would hardly be right for him, of all people, to judge.

“If I’m being honest,” Luke says, after the silence between them has stretched out to the wrong side of awkward, “I came over because I noticed you watching me.”

“I was watching you too.” he adds, when Din doesn’t reply immediately. Din feels his face go bright red under his helmet, and he watches, transfixed as Luke’s tongue darts out briefly to wet his lower lip.

“Why?” he asks, when he remembers how to talk.

Luke gives Din an appreciative once over. “You’re not bad to look at.”

It’s such a line that Din is embarrassed it only makes him hotter. He thinks it’s something to do with how Luke has shifted, bodily, the long line of his legs now sprawled out in his seat like he’s on a chaise lounge, not a creaky chair in a dingy bar. But it’s not just that; Luke has shifted in other ways too, and Din can’t quite put his finger in it, but there’s a hungry look in his eyes that wasn’t there a minute ago, even though that must have been the very reason Luke made his way over to his table. The brightness has dimmed, not like the spluttering out of a torch, but like coals at the bottom of a fire.

The thing is, Din doesn’t do this— doesn’t indulge. The right thing to do, the safe thing, would be to turn Luke down, gently, but firmly, take Grogu back to his room, go to sleep, and head back to Nevarro tomorrow morning.

“It’s my last night as a free man,” Luke says, watching him with those bright, bright eyes of his. His smile is so sad that Din forgets to ask him to elaborate. He wants to wipe away the downturned tick of Luke’s mouth, forget about the dragon, about how the kid nearly died, again.

Luke must sense Din’s resolve caving, because he says, brightening, “So, what do you say you humour someone on his last night of freedom?”

“Who?” he says, pretending to look around, and Luke laughs, the last thing Din can coherently remember is the feeling of his ungloved fingers wrapping around the sliver of exposed skin between Din’s glove and vambrace.

+++++

Din wakes up alone.

Not that he was expecting anything else, but there’s a brief moment while he’s still swimming out of sleep, curled in the warm patch of sunlight that’s filtering through the window, where he can pretend the phantom heat next to him is Luke’s body, bare and soft.

When they’d stumbled up to Din’s rented room last night, Luke’s breathy laugh fogging up Din’s visor as he clumsily bounced his cheek against the beskar in his effort to get closer, closer, Luke’s clever fingers had snuck to the back of Din’s neck, looping to pull him in. And even though there was no indication he meant to pull off Din’s helmet, Din had still flinched, and then marvelled in shock at the way Luke had immediately softened, pulled back, the way he’d been able to read the minute twitches of his body him so accurately already.

“Not the helmet,” he’d said, his voice already a rasp even though they both were still fully clothed.

“Okay.” Luke had said.

And afterwards, when they were both sweaty and Din still trying to catch his breath from quite frankly the most incredible sex he’d ever had in his life, Luke had gotten up without a word, BUT before Din even had the chance to miss him, was back in bed, curled up against Din’s side, finishing off the knot for the blindfold he’d looped around his eyes.

“If you want to take your helmet off to sleep,” he’d murmured softly, and then he was out like a light, leaving Din to stare at him open mouthed for the second time in three hours, stunned at the trust, the thoughtfulness, the vulnerable nape of Luke’s neck.

He’s taken his helmet off with shaking hands many, many times before, but it’s the first time it feels like a benediction.

He shakes himself out of the memory, and rises out of bed. By the time he comes down the stairs, collected Grogu from Peli who is looking at him with a shit-eating grin on her face, he’s mostly convinced himself that he can live the rest of his life with Luke as a sudden flash of brightness, the scent-memory of his skin on the sheets.

Grogu chatters to Din as they walk from Peli’s towards the Naboo Spaceport, and Din makes all the appropriate noises like he can understand him, and he’s concentrating on making sure his kid is getting the enrichment he needs (he read somewhere once it was very important for early development)so he doesn’t notice the unease in the Spaceport at first. But he rounds the corner to where the Razor Crest is parked, and suddenly it’s all there; the prickling silence and sideways glances from the deck crew. Din’s gaze zeroes in on his ship, and he sees the men waiting outside the Razor Crest.

Not just men. Royal guards, from the look of their deep blue uniforms.

They must be on the lookout, because as soon as he steps foot into the hangar, one shouts, “You there!” He keeps walking forward calmly, but he shifts his grip on Grogu to one hand and rests his other hand on his blaster.

“You own this ship?” one of the guards asks once he’s within earshot. The leader, Din notes, spying the gold crescent badge on his breast.

Din nods warily. He’s half-distracted thinking how he can get Grogu to safety, if it all goes to shit, and the other half is mentally running through all of the ship’s modifications. He’s pretty sure most of the illegal ones are well hidden enough that a preliminary search wouldn’t have found them.

“You fought the dragon yesterday?”

Din blinks, jolted out of his train of thought, and he’s too startled to lie. “Yes?” he says, and then tenses, widening his stance a little. Everybody had seemed ecstatic when he’d come back into town yesterday, but the last thing he needed was lord furious about their precious pet dragon being injured.

“Come with us.” The head guard’s tone brooks no argument, and he doesn’t offer any further explanation either. And although his last fifteen years of bounty hunting are all screaming at Din to run, take the kid and get the fuck out of Naboo, there’s a fuzzy feeling behind his sternum tugging at him to follow that makes him feel lighter than a second ago. It’s the same way he’d felt when he’d seen Luke in the inn last night, what had allowed Luke to reach across the table and touch him. And inexplicably, it feels well worn, familiar to him.

Din goes with them.

+++++

Din forces them to circle the speeder back around to Peli’s first, where he drops off the kid. She takes Grogu with a fearful look in her eyes, and Din doesn’t look at her as he presses his forehead against Grogu’s. He doesn’t think about how it could be the last time he sees the kid.

The palace at Theed is built on the edge of a cliff, with domes of gleaming jade and its marble walls carved out straight out of the rockface itself. When they pull over the drawbridge, Din can hear the thundering of the waterfalls, and through the windows of the entrance hall, see the vast ocean to one side, glittering in the sun, and the green of the rolling plans on the other side. It was beautiful and grand and a little bit terrifying all at once, if Din was the kind of person who was impressed by that sort of thing.

The entire trip to the palace is silent, and it’s only when they’re deep into the castle, in front of a huge set of doors, that the head guard finally addresses Din, “Wait here,” before he disappears through the doors.

Din’s stuck outside the grand oak doors, and he briefly contemplates prying one of the rubies or emeralds that are encrusted into the door’s bolts with his vibroknife— could probably get good money for them— and how he could distract the remaining guards around him for long enough to do it, when the doors open.

It’s a throne room, that much is clear, with a lush red carpet and floor to ceiling windows along one wall. The sun is at midday height now, and its glare casts long beams of light across the floor, leaning towards the people at the other end of the room. Din steps through the door and takes stock of his new surroundings.

Seated on the throne is the Queen, who Din understands is well beloved and not at all prone to torturing bounty hunters, although her dark expression says otherwise. To her left, sitting on another throne—although perhaps lounging would be a better word— is a man who Din presumes is the king. In another world, Din knows, instinctively, that he would have been a dangerous opponent, long scar over one eye, shaggy brown hair, gaze sharp and keen. The same can be said for the young woman standing behind him, the same gaze, the same tight line of her lips.

To the Queen’s right stands an old man, white beard and white hair, drab brown robes. He looks mildly more welcoming, mouth drawn up into a soft smile, although Din can still read tension in the way he’s holding himself. And next to him…

Din stops as he looks at the last figure on the left of the room, the warm brightness, the shocked curve of a mouth dropping open. Din remembers how that mouth had opened against his throat last night, hot and wet, and how he’d wanted Luke so badly he thought he might combust.

Luke, who is in front of him right now, in golden robes, nothing at all like the black ensemble he wore last night. Luke, who had disappeared from Din’s bed this morning without a goodbye.

Din feels the mark he knows Luke bit into the inside of his thigh last night throb for a second, and he has to force himself to keep walking down the room. He stops in front of the thrones, and stares at them for a minute, the five of them assembled in front of him.

“What is your name, Sir Knight?” Queen Naberrie’s voice is kind, but there’s a steel underneath. She doesn’t look very happy to be sitting there. Belatedly, Din realises that he probably should have knelt.

Din shakes his head. It’s hard for him to keep his eyes off Luke. “I’m not a knight.”

Her face doesn’t lighten up, exactly, but a flash of humour does cross her face before it’s as gone as quickly as it came. “How would you like to be addressed then, good sir?”

Din tries to hide his grimace at good sir, although he doesn’t think he’s very successful. “Just Mando is fine.”

“Mando,” Queen Naberrie says, all trace of laughter gone from her expression. Beside her, the king’s face goes completely blank, like he’s trying to hide a sudden tide of emotions, and the young woman standing behind him scowls, glaring daggers at Din.

“Naboo is in your debt,” the Queen continues. “We thank you for your act of service.” It sounds like the words are being forced out of her mouth as she says it.

“What?”

The Queen’s expression becomes a little more impatient, a little more sour. Din feels like he’s running out of time, even though he didn’t realise there was any sort of rush to begin with. But before she can say anything, the old man standing the right of her chair speaks.

“You’re Mandalorian?”

“Yes.” Din’s hand goes to his blaster. The old man may not look like much, but Din knew better than to be fooled by appearances. However, the movement doesn’t make him any more tense. If anything, it seems to amuse the old man.

“Padmé,” he says, turning to the Queen. “I don’t believe he knows.”

She turns to her other side to look at her husband, and a silent conversation passes between the three of them, quirking of eyebrows and slight flicks of the wrist. Din takes the moment to drink in the sight of Luke, who is still staring straight back at him, eyes glittering. Din wants to rip those golden robes off him where they’re buttoned up to his neck, run his hands down his sides to the spot where he learnt last night Luke is ticklish, hear the breathy giggle before he firms his touch.

Except Luke is standing next to the throne, not beside him under the coarse sheets, and the distance between them may as well be one of Naboo’s oceans.

“Mando,” the Queen says, drawing his attention back to her. “You slew the krayt dragon yesterday, and in doing so, saved the lives of hundreds of my people. As is tradition, a dragon-slayer is given the princess’ hand in marriage.” She gestures to the girl standing behind the king.

Din’s thoughts come to a screeching halt, and his eyes flicker to follow the direction of the Queen’s finger. The princess’ arms are still crossed across her chest, and her expression looks more thunderous by the second.

“However,” the Queen continues, and Din has to stop himself from sagging in relief, there’s a however, thank god, “my daughter is already promised to another. As such, I hope you will be similarly pleased with my son’s hand in marriage.”

The relief vanishes, and Din turns sharply to look at Luke, who’s practically glowing looking back at him. But all Din feels is the swirling sickness in his stomach.

“No.” He can barely hear himself over the rush in his ears.

The Queen raises her eyebrows. “No?”

“I don’t want to marry him.”

“It is tradition.” The Queen is cool and calm, and it makes Din want to hit something.

“I don’t want him!”

His voice bounces off the ceiling. There’s a shocked beat of silence, and when Din dares to look at Luke, all the light has left his eyes. And no sooner than Din has caught a glimpse of his face, as if Luke senses his gaze— which he probably has— he turns sharply on his heel and leaves the room.

Queen Naberrie watches him, with an eye far too keen for Din’s own liking. “I think,” she says slowly. “We might give these two some time alone.” She stands in a rustle of silk, and gestures for her husband to do the same. She puts a firm hand on her daughter’s shoulders and the old man does the same for the king, guiding them out of the room through a separate door despite the king and the princess’ loud protests.

It leaves Din alone in the throne room, the silence suddenly suffocating around him. The heat from the sun streaming in through the windows no longer feels like an extension of the palace and the view, but instead sharp, urgent, stifling.

Din takes a deep breath, and follows the door Luke had exited through.

It opens out to a courtyard behind the throne room. The air is muggy outside, and he feels the dampness of sweat on his underclothes, the awkwardness of the quiet clank of every movement with the bulk of his armour. Luke is standing on the far side, by a balcony which overlooks the sea.

Din comes to a stop in the middle of the courtyard, unsure if he’s allowed any closer. Last night, he would have said that closing the distance between himself and Luke would have solved any problem between them, healed any miscommunication. He can still feel the phantom strength of Luke’s fingers laced between his, like a balm to his aching joints. Now, he’s not sure if his presence is welcome at all.

“You really didn’t know?” Luke asks without turning around.

Din’s tongue feels clumsy in his mouth. “No.” he says. He knows he’s not saying exactly what he means, because he does, very much, want Luke. Just not like this; passed around like a political jockey, one of the means the end is supposed to justify. Luke, being given to Din like a playing piece in chess, bound to him out of duty, instead of choice. The mere thought of it makes the sickness in Din’s stomach swell up again.

He doesn’t know how to say any of that, so instead, he says, “I wasn’t trying to slay a dragon. I was just protecting my foundling.”

Luke gives a startled laugh. “Of course. Thousands of knights actually trying to kill it and you go and do it by accident.”

They lapse into silence. Din wants to get that awful, stricken look off Luke’s face, but the only way he can think of doing so would be to touch him, just once, softly; cross this vast distance between them and dig until he sees the brightness he’d held to his bones last night. It kills Din to think he’s lost the privilege to comfort him.

“I thought,” Luke says, his voice quiet, wobbly. He takes a breath and starts again. “They told me yesterday that someone had slain the dragon, and I was to be married the next day. Figures the only dragon-slayer I’d actually want wouldn’t want me back.”

He sounds so self-deprecating, none of the soft sureness Din had seen last night, the cocky slant of his smile when he’d wrapped his mouth around Din’s dick. Din wants it back so acutely that he can feel it like a physical weight in his ribs. He doesn’t like this version of Luke, buttoned up tight, uncertain of Din, of the trembling thing they had cradled between them last night.

But he can’t seem to have Luke back without anchoring him to Din, so instead, he says, “I didn’t kill the dragon.”

Luke turns around. “What?”

“I wounded it, sure. But it was definitely still alive when I last saw it.”

“So you don’t have to marry me.” he adds, when Luke just stares at him, but even as he says it, it feels like there’s a crack in his heart. This morning, he’d shored up the hole Luke had left with the curled imprint of his body on the sheets, and now it’s all coming back, all the golden light pouring out with how much Din wants, simply, to hold Luke. Not to marry, not even to fuck. Just to hold.

Luke does not seem to be on the same page as him. “So the dragon is still out there?”

Din nods confusedly, and Luke closes his eyes. “Fuck.” he says.

“It’s a good thing, isn’t it?” Din says. “You don’t have to marry me.”

“It’s still out there.” Luke repeats, but it’s not a question this time, and Din looks away from how he’s wringing his hands, tries not to think about how much he wants to press his palm against Luke’s heated skin, in hopes it would loosen some of this sudden nervous energy. Looking away allows his brain to clear up a little, not completely occupied with the sight and thought and smell of Luke Luke Luke, and it hits him all at once.

“It’s still out there. Oh, god. It’s still out there in the village.” Din feels the dread pool in his heart. “I’m gonna have to go kill it, aren’t I.”

“Well, you don’t have to…” Luke trails off.

Din’s already striding back into the throne room, before a thought occurs to him, and he turns around and goes back to Luke, taking one of his hands in both of his. “If I manage to kill this thing for good this time,” he says, “you still don’t have to marry me. I don’t care about tradition.”

Luke has gone completely still under his touch, just like he was when Din first saw him in the corner of Peli’s, his grip strong under Din’s palm. His eyes are very wide, very blue, and even though Din knows he can’t see through the visor of his helmet, he feels like Luke is reading his face with inexplicable familiarity. With the calmness of a man who knew he had all the time in the world and knew exactly what he was going to do with it all.

Din drops Luke’s hand like he’s been burnt and steps away, his face going red with the realisation of his rash decision in the heat of emotion.

Luke says, “I’m coming with you.”

And Din forgets all about how completely inappropriate it was for him to touch Luke like that. “What? No.” Not Luke, with his soft body and curves and bony wrists, who had a family in the palace who clearly cared about him. Who Din still wanted to hold afterwards, and they couldn’t do that if Luke was dead via krayt dragon.

“I can handle myself.” And there he is, Din can see the man last night who wiped the table clean with his freaky powers just because he could; because, Din realises now, he was trying to impress Din, not compete with him. The relief at seeing the glimmer of that Luke again, without the frills and false airs, almost swallows him.

“Also,” Luke adds, as Din is still marvelling at the appearance of Luke’s brash edges again, “if someone else went and killed it now, I would have to marry them. I’m just making sure you make good on your word.”

Din feels a flare of anger in his chest, way too intense for having only known Luke two days, and resolutely puts it out of his mind, deciding to think about it later. But then Luke grabs his hand again, tugging him through the throne room and back to the speeder, and Din can’t find it within him to pull away. He’s only thinking about peeling his glove off so they can be skin to skin, and then peeling that disgustingly impractical gold ensemble off Luke’s body. He’s thinking about how Luke didn’t pull away when he’d grabbed his hand before, and now, how he’d reached first, and the lucent gleam in his eyes when he’d looked at him, like suddenly everything had become clear to him.

And as the speeder roars to life, the warm shape of Luke in the passenger seat next to him, Din dares to hope, could it really be that easy?

+++++

The dragon, surprisingly, is easy enough to kill, what with Din having mostly incapacitated it the previous day when he’d ripped himself out of its stomach. He’s honestly surprised that the dragon had survived long enough to drag itself back to its lair. Luke almost looks disappointed, and if Din’s learnt anything as a bounty hunter, it’s that as soon as you complain about it being quiet is when things start going to shit.

They’re climbing back into the speeder when the first blaster shots are heard, some very angry knights— real knights— who apparently were banking on slaying a dragon and marrying a princess to get fat and rich off the royal coffers, pissed off that someone else had gotten there first.

Din groans, rolling out the crick in his shoulder— after the dragon (twice!), knights seem as relevant as gnats— but he draws his spear all the same. After all, it didn’t matter what killed you, a blaster shot is just as deadly as krayt dragon teeth.

And then Luke, out of fucking nowhere pulls out a green sword and dispatches them all without breaking sweat. Din hasn’t even moved from his spot next to the speeder. A ball of heat shoots straight through his stomach, and he feels his mouth go dry.

“You weren’t kidding when you said you could handle yourself.”

Luke smiles serenely, sheathing his sword. Din feels his stillness again, this time, the kind that indicates imminent danger. Unfortunately, because Din has now accepted that he just functions on a lower brain capacity around Luke, he can feel certain parts of himself getting very interested in a dangerous version of Luke.

“Luke.” he manages. He knows he has to say this before anything else happens. “You don’t have to marry me.”

And Luke just looks at him, patient, light, none of the heavy sadness Din had seen in the courtyard, and Din knows, then and there, that Luke understands, that he’s been able to read in between the lines: everything Din hasn’t allowed himself to want from fear of losing it. Luke knows what he wants to say— what he’s going to say. He just has to say it.

“But would you like to come with me?” he gets out.

Luke’s face breaks open into a smile, like rain after drought, and this time, Din doesn’t stop himself from crossing the distance between them, pulling Luke flush against him by the waist. Luke knocks his forehead against Din’s helmet, and Din closes his eyes, basking in the sheer sense of rightness.

“I’ve always wanted to see the galaxy.” Luke says after a long minute, and Din laughs, feeling so light he could fly.

#dinluke week day 5 #dinluke #star wars #luke skywalker #din djarin #the mandalorian #jo writes fic #i wrote this in under 24 hours lol so #cut me some slack won't ya #dinluke week #dinluke week 2021

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the-slasher-files · 3 years

Note

Hello, can i request 16 and 46 for the prompt thing with a S/o with low self steem with Bo? Please and sorry for my english 🥺🖤

OOOH ANGST!!!! I love it thank you! and honestly your English is perfect :) It’s like these 2 sentences were made for a reader x bo scenario!

So I went a little wild with this that’s why it’s a bit longer (1k plus words) but I really love how it turned out.. also Bo maybe says ‘I love you’ for the first time when he’s sober :o hope you enjoy 🔪💕

MASTERLIST

THE KITCHEN FLOOR

WORD PROMPT: “I want you to be happy... even if it’s not with me” AND “Please don’t say that about yourself. Please don’t believe that. You’re so much more than that. You’re so...”

Today was just one of those days.

You felt your mind weigh heavy on everything you did. It badgered you every second of the day, pounding your self-esteem lower and lower with every glance in the mirror and every tug of your baggy clothes. You couldn’t escape the constant hounding and you felt almost uncomfortable sitting in your own skin; as if bugs were crawling on top of you, and as if a fire was set beneath your feet and every moment you struggled to hold yourself away from the burn.

Bo was at his dingy garage all day and Vincent was in the basement making more creations for the town, and honestly, you never knew where Lester was at any given moment but he defiantly wasn’t in the house. This left you all alone in the reticent home, just your thoughts and heartbeat. Sure you could go down to the basement to have company with Vincent, but he never liked to be disturbed while working, and you could go to the gas station but something was blocking you in the house; your demons wanted you away from the sunlight and easing voices of the people you loved, they wanted you all to themselves today. You let them win today for you didn’t have the energy to fight it.

As the sun faded behind the native Louisiana wood that surrounded Ambrose the voices became deafening, and Bo’s absence was louder than the voices at times. Skull crushing and heart aching. You didn’t care if it was his yelling or large footsteps creaking on the hardwood, you just needed to hear something else besides the twisted thoughts that were burning, and chugging along like a freight train threatening to run itself off track and kill the engineers.

Bo will never love you... Bo has never thought you were beautiful... Bo hates you... hates your body... hates your love... Bo just wants some skinny perfect woman... one from his trophy wall... one better than you... one to satisfy his every need better than you ever could...

Tears stung in your eyes painfully, as you tried to make yourself busy with dinner. Every cut of a vegetable and every stir on the bowl was becoming a burden, you felt the lump in your throat build and tears spilled out in a stream much to your dismay. Anger, frustration, sadness and pain became all too much for your psyche to handle, and in an outburst you pushed everything off the counter, carelessly letting dinner go to waste and everything around you crash and clang against the linoleum.

Silent sobs sealed your airway and you sank to the floor slowly with your back scraping against the fridge, raking your shaky hands through your hair, tears falling wherever they pleased. Breathing seemed fleeting at this point, you felt as if you were drowning in the ocean, all alone, with sharks circling you, taunting your demise. The sobs began to become more painful and broken wails hung in the humid Louisiana air, the force and strain made it feel like you were vomiting but betrayed the fact that your throat was closing against the laments.

Suddenly there were heavy footfalls coming towards you, it was clear as day who they were from; the give away was that the gate was a little unbalanced from the apparent stiffness Bo had always carried in his right leg. The steps stopped for a moment as he was taking in your balled up shaking frame under the flickering fluorescents of the old house. Food, utensils, bowls and plates were all scattered around you like war zone debris, and you were the broken soldier in the middle waiting for the end. You knew he was standing there but you didn’t care; he was never one for comforting you, why would he care tonight?

“Baby... Baby girl wha- shit” Bo stuttered but quickly came to encase you in his muscular arms, groaning as he sat in front of you, his legs caged you, feeling every sob, every painful sharp inhale. “Shhh, shhh, baby it’s ok” he cooed, trying to be soothing though it went against his gruff nature.

His warm body caging you and the unmistakable smell of gas, cigarettes, and some sort of sweet undertone to his cologne that you just couldn’t place, made your body ease enough to catch a deep breath filling your strained lungs. Opening your swollen eyes with a sting, you were somehow surprised to meet his worried stormy blues, eying you like a hawk; his intensity made you force your eyes closed, jerking your head downwards and off to the side, not wanting him to see you so broken. Stifling your cries by biting your lip hard enough to draw the coppery taste along the soft flesh, letting whine escape.

His rough fingertips gingerly caressed your wet chin, commanding you to look up at him; though Bo’s fingers were gentle, his blanketing dominance coated every movement he made effortlessly. Once again your eyes met; pain and concern clashing.

“Angel, what’s wrong?” He spoke softly letting his cigarette stained breath ghost over you. The question brought a new set of tears that started to swell up, teasing to fall through wet lashes. Bo didn’t force you to speak and he just let you catch your breath and collect your thoughts, studying every part of your face as if it was new to him. Checking for any apparent injuries that might be causing the sobs; at least that he could fix that, but no, these wounds were behind the skin, in the deep tissues of your heart and brain, strangling them.

“Bo... I just-” You weakly strained against the lump in your throat. “I’m sorry” pulling away from him you saw something dangerous flutter behind his eyes; Bo was full of his own troubles and insecurities too, and your choice of words fueled something under the surface of him, some deepness he wasn’t ready to face yet. His touch became a little tighter, slowly and agonizing like a python, squeezing the truth out of you. Your apology was out of your embarrassment for him having to see you like this, but he thought it was for cheating on him or harming someone he loved; ultimately resulting in your slow painful death.

Before allowing his anger rise you quietly cried “Bo, baby, I’m just having a bad day... the voices in my head just wouldn’t shut up... I-I just broke” He relaxed his grip slightly and pulled you against his chest with a huff, relaxing around you. Bo was no stranger to the way you felt, he had ended up on the exact spot on the kitchen floor many times before, he was probably drunk when it happened, however, but he understood. In a strange way, you mirrored him like broken glass glued together.

Clutching his coveralls like holding onto a lifeline you stained them with tears, as he moved his hand to cradle your skull closer to him if it were possible, carding his hand through your hair, and his other hand snaked around your waist. His warmth was welcomed but dangerous and painful, loving a broken soul like his hurt all too much; behind every kiss and pleasure, you couldn’t help but wonder if he was better off with someone else, and think about the day he doesn’t come home. Bo’s love was addicting and one day you knew it would be ripped away and you would be left scratching and clawing for any remnants that could be salvaged.

“I- I want you to be happy... even if it’s not with me,” weeping and shaking you let your insecurities come to the light allowing Bo to see the sick but not unfamiliar thoughts. “I’m fucking broken... I’m nothing you should have, just damaged goods... You can find someone much more beautiful and stronger... I’m not what you want”

Spilling your guts like a wounded animal begging to live Bo’s hands moved to your shoulders, now pushing you away to look at him with authority oozing off, it made you stop; thinking he was going to lose his temper, and you just waited for the yelling or for him to drag you to the bedroom. The yelling never came. The forceful grip of his large hands never appeared. Just his eyes hardened on you, the blue becoming dark and foreboding, like the black sea that has swallowed a thousand ships.

“Please don’t say that about yourself. Please don’t believe that. You’re so much more than that. You’re so...” He begged then allowed his fortified walls to come down for a brief moment worried you would shatter him completely, “You’re my everything baby... Why don’t you see that?” his voice broke at the vulnerability. The knights were down, off their posts and able to rest after 20 some years of being serviced, taught and berated. This was like a searing knife to his core, slipping between the bones and waiting for it to be yanked out and have him bleed out on the linoleum, alone. “I- I love you.”

Those words, the three words he spoke echoed loud and clear in your brain. The only time he had ever said it was after 5 beers and sloppy sex. Bo was sober tonight and he was painfully aware of it. He said it without flinching or moving his gaze from yours. This is the moment you waited for, after almost 2 full years of rage, blood, tears, love, fights, and pain; it was out there crystal clear. Of course, you had hoped it would be on a scenic hill looking out at the night sky, with your fingers interlaced and shallow breaths matching each other in perfect harmony; not on the cold floor with glass and destruction around you, brokenly clutching one another. However, you were going to take what you could get.

Tears began to flow again but for a whole different reason, as you cupped his strong square jaw, running your thumb on the long jagged scar he carried with grace. “Bo Sinclair, I love you too.” He crashed his lips against yours, his hands were everywhere on you, he craved you, he needed you as much as he did the oxygen to breathe.

#my writing #asks #request #bo sinclair #bo sinclair x reader #bo sinclair imagine #house of wax #house of wax 2005 #angst #horror #slasher #slashers #slasher fanfiction #slasher x reader #slasher fandom

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thatslikely · 3 years

Text

Fred Weasley’s Day Off (Part 1) - F.W.

Fred Weasley’s Day Off- Fred Weasley x Gender Neutral!Reader [Ferris Bueller’s Day Off AU]

Warnings: only occasional mild language

Word Count: 4.2k

A/N: this is Part 1 of my new 5 part series, Fred Weasley’s Day Off! You can find the series masterlist here. This part is going pretty similar to the movie, but as the story unfolds, I promise it isn’t a carbon copy of John Hughe’s masterpiece. Hope you guys enjoy :)

Just a reminder: Y/N is Your Name, Y/L/N is Your Last Name, and thoughts are in italics.

Taglist: @amourtentiaa @anchoeritic @probably-peeves @horrorxweasley @weasleywh0r3s

if you want to be added to be added to my general (or this series!)’s taglist, send me a dm or ask!

If you haven’t seen Ferris Bueller’s Day off or just need a refresher, HERE all all the scenes included in this part in chronilogical order! I HIGHLY reccomend giving these a watch, for they make the situations a lot easier to understand (and they’re hilarious).

----

It’s a beautiful day today, temperatures in the upper 70’s. You can expect plenty of sun and not a cloud in sight. Right now, it’s 75 at lakefront, 74 at Midway, 73 at the O’hare.

“Arthur!” Molly Weasley screeched, beckoning her husband to Fred and George’s messy bedroom. The walls were plastered with large posters of their favorite bands and sports teams (mainly Fred’s), and an expensive computer sat on the desk in the corner. The door to the room was ajar, a frantic mother feeling a haggard Fred Weasley’s forehead.

“What's the matter?” Arthur asked, briefcase in hand.

“It’s Fred, for Merlin’s sake look at him!”

Fred laid slumped under the hand-knitted quilt like a corpse, his hair tousled and his chin unshaved. She continued, “he doesn’t have a fever, but his stomach hurts and he’s seeing spots!” Fred peeled his pained, umber eyes open, his weak gaze pointed to his suit-clad father.

A sympathetic Arthur reached for Fred’s cold and clammy hands, feeling them with a shudder. He’s got a bad cold, he thought, poor boy needs to stay home and rest.

“I’m fine, I’ll get up. I have a test today.” Fred leaned up slightly, his stuffy nose attempting to breathe. His baggy eyes drifted around the room, glazing the empty bed parallel to his’. “No!” Molly and Arthur Weasley stated firmly in unison, pressing his aching chest into the soft bed.

“I have to take it. I-I wanna go to a good college, so I can have a fruitful life.” Fred kept attempting to get out of bed, only for Molly’s gentle hands to guide him back down.

“Oh fine, what’s this? What’s his problem?” Ron leaned against the untidy bedroom’s door frame, his arms crossed, his face donning an unamused expression tinged with jealousy. He was looking daggers into Fred, who reciprocated nothing but a wink.

“He doesn’t feel well,” Molly stated, not pleased in the slightest with Ron’s distasteful demeanor.

“Yeah, right,” Ron rebutted with a scowl. The tips of Ron’s ears seared with resentment for his brother and anger at his naive and biased parents.

“Ronnie? Is that you?” Fred asked, his blurry vision making the outline of his brother near indistinguishable from the rest of his room. “Ronnie? I can’t see that far.” Fred leaned up in an attempt to see his brother, before falling backward with a dramatic moan.

“Dry that one out, you could fertilize the garden,” the younger ginger spat, tapping his toe furiously.

“Ronald, you get to school!” Molly demanded, vehemently gesturing for him to leave.

“You’re letting him stay home? If I was bleeding out my eyes you’d still make me go to school! This is so unfair.” Jealousy oozed from Ron’s clenched jaw like venom.

“Ron, please don’t be upset with me. You have your health, be thankful,” Fred said coolly. His eyes remained glinted with mischief, causing a furious Ron to storm off in a huff.

The concerned mother and father turned back to a wheezing Fred. Molly tucked him in tighter, cooing, “Now listen, I’ll be showing that new family some houses today, so I’ll be in the area. The office will know just where to find me if you need anything, okay?” A wave of gratefulness swept over Fred’s face.

“It’s nice to know I have such loving, caring parents. You’re both very special people.” Molly caressed Fred’s ashen cheek before planting a compassionate kiss on his warm forehead.

“G’bye champ,” Arthur said to his son before carefully shutting his door and walking to the garage.

They bought it.

Incredible. One of the worst performances of my career, and they never doubted it for a second. Fred peeled back the curtains blocking the beautiful view from his large windows with a smirk. He looked out the panes, admiring the gorgeous weather. How could I be expected to go to school on a day like this?

This is my ninth sick day this semester; it’s getting pretty tough coming up with new illnesses. If I go for ten, I’ll have to barf up a lung, so I’d better make this one count. Fred carefully adjusted his extortionate stereo, his fail-proof plan slowly piecing together.

Fred then stepped over to his desk, reaching for an old, hefty soccer trophy of his and some rope. The key to faking out the parents is the clammy hands. He started knotting the rope around the shiny golden award methodically. A lot of people’ll tell you to go for the old ‘phony fever’, but if you’ve got a nervous mother, you could wind up in the doctor's office. That’s worse than school.

“It’s a little childish and stupid, but then, so is high school.”

He scrupulously placed the trophy contraption behind his door with a satisfied nod, proceeding to the bathroom dressed in his grey and maroon striped bathrobe. Life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.

Fred undressed and stepped into the steamy shower, quickly shampoo-ing his ginger mop into a spiky mohawk. He gave some thought about his plans for the leisurely day before removing the showerhead, gripping it like a microphone, serenading an imaginary audience, “I recall Central Park in fall. How you tore your dress, what a mess, I must confess…”

----

“Spinnet?” A greasy Mr. Snape drawled, spectacled eyes darting around the dingy classroom, illuminated with corporate fluorescent lights. “Spinnet?”

“Here!”

“Smith?” Silence. “Smith?”

“Present.”

“Weasley?” Snape asked, scanning the room for any signs of the irresponsible redhead.

“Weasley?” he repeated, uninterested and monotone. “Weasley?”

“Um, he’s sick,” a perky Cho Chang cut through the tense silence with a smile, “my best friend’s sister’s boyfriend’s brother’s girlfriend heard from this guy, who knows this kid who saw Fred pass out at Florean’s last night! I guess it’s pretty serious.”

“Thank you, Cho,” Snape said impassively.

“No problem, whatsoever!”

----

A robotic ring emitted from the phone next to Lee Jordan’s bed, disturbing the perturbed ambiance of the inert bedroom. The hypochondriac occupying the sheets clicked the silver ‘answer’ button with a shallow sigh.

“Hello?” George Weasley asked, his voice deep and groggy.

“Georgie, babe, what’s happening?” Fred’s exuberant voice questioned from the other end of the line, starkly contrasting his twin’s nonbelligerent energy.

“Very little,” he responded in a trance-like state, eyes spacing out at the blank ceiling, his mind nearly detached from his aching body.

“How do you feel?”

“Shredded.” Half-empty pill bottles and antihypertensive drugs lined the bleak nightstand to his left.

“Get dressed and come on back home. I’m taking the day off,” Fred imposed. He sat in a lounge chair, next to the turquoise pool, soaking in the bright morning sun, which starkly contrasted George’s dark atmosphere. He held a Brick to his ear, sipping an iced Hawaiian drink from a swirly straw. The only thing covering his body was a pair of floral swim trunks; plastic sunglasses rested in the ginger nest atop his head.

“I can’t stupid, I’m sick. I think I got food poisoning from Lee’s awful cooking.”

“It’s all in your head, George, come back home,” Fred said more firmly, taking another sip of the fruity drink in the souvenir cup.

“I feel like complete shit, Fred. I can’t go anywhere.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. Now come on over here so I can have a fun day off!” Fred demanded, hanging up the phone promptly. “Sheesh.”

George remained stiffly on the sheets, still as a statue, muttering, “I’m dying.” The phone chimed again with another call. Click.

“You’re not dying, you just can’t think of anything good to do!” Fred’s voice echoed through the dimly-lit room before the tone of an ended call took its place.

“Pardon my French,” said Fred to no one in particular, “but George is so tight, that if you stuck a lump of coal up his ass, in two weeks, you’d have a diamond.”

Fred quickly abandoned the pool deck, instead continuing random antics around the vacant house, whether it was (horribly) playing his centuries-old clarinet, or prank calling gullible freshmen claiming he had an impending kidney transplant. This was the life.

“I’m so disappointed in George. Twenty bucks says he’s sitting in his car debating whether or not he should go out.”

Fred had hit the nail on the head. George sat in his four-wheeled hunk of junk for minutes, muttering to himself, “He’ll keep calling me. He’ll keep calling me until I go home. He’ll make me feel guilty. This is ridiculous! Okay, I’ll go, I’ll go, I’ll go, I’ll go.” He turned the key of the run-down car, only for the engine to cough and heave. “Goddamn it!”

----

“Molly Weasley,” Molly introduced herself to the caller from her desk at the local real estate office. She held the landline phone in one hand, the other scratching numerals and figures onto some spreadsheets.

“This is Dolores J. Umbridge, Dean of Students. Are you aware that Fred is not at school today, Miss Weasley?” she asked punctually, her voice laced with irritation.

“Yes, I am. Poor Fred is home sick.”

“Are you also aware that Fred does not have what we consider an exemplary attendance record? He has missed an unacceptable number of school days.” Umbridge looked icy and collected on the outside, but deep down she was fuming with anger. “I have no reservation whatsoever about holding him back another year.”

“This is all news to me,” Molly replied, taken aback by Umbridge’s blunt threats.

“It usually is.” Dolores turned her attention to the hunky computer opposite her, ready with Fred’s academic profile, scanning the pixels signifying his number of absent days. When she finally opened her jaw to announce the number to Mrs. Weasley with a devious grin, she was horrified to see the number of days slowly ticking down to two.

“I asked for a car, I got a computer,” Fred said with an unamused but smug smirk as he typed lines of code into his computer back at the Weasley household, “how’s that for being born under a bad sign?”

“I can appreciate how this time of year, children are prone to taking the day off. However, in Fred’s case, I can assure you, he’s a very sick boy.” And with that, Dolores hung up on a sympathetic Molly, her tight brunette curls gradually frizzing from aggravation.

“I don’t trust this… Fred Weasley,” Umbridge confided to her secretary, Augustus Filch. “What’s so dangerous about a character like Fred is that he gives good students bad ideas. The last thing I need is fifteen-hundred Fred Weasley disciples running around these halls. He jeopardizes my ability to effectively govern this student body.”

“Well, he makes you look like a bitch is what he does, Dolores,” Filch said with a smirk.

“You’re wrong,” Dolores asserted, fiery gaze piercing through Filch’s soul.

“Well, he is very popular. The sportos and motorheads, geeks, wastoids, dweebies, dickheads, they all adore him. They think he’s some righteous dude,” Filch said astutely.

“That is why I’ve got to catch him this time. Show these kids that you can’t just skip school nine times a semester like he has and get away with it!”

----

Mr. Binns, a prehistoric-looking man with novel-thick glasses, stood at the head of the classroom, giving his usual dull lecture. While he etched utter nonsense onto the chalkboard, you couldn’t help but release a bone-cracking yawn.

After years of sitting in your uncomfortable plastic chair, drowning out Mr. Binn’s boring babble, your saving grace arrived in the form of a grave Nurse Pomfrey.

You quickly slipped on your pale, leather jacket and stuffed your blank notebook into your backpack at the sight of the frail woman donning white scrubs like a dove, eager to escape class. Nurse Pomfrey had on a solemn face as she quickly whispered something into Mr. Binns’ ear before announcing to the uninterested class, “Y/N, Y/L/N, may I have a word with you?” You painted a look of surprise on your face before stepping into the hallway with the disturbed grey-haired woman.

“My dear, I’m afraid I’m the bearer of bad tidings,” she said sorrowfully once out of the earshot of the small lecture hall, “your father called. Your grandmother has just passed.”

Your eyes welled with artificial tears, face drenched with heartbreak.

----

The landline echoed through Umbridge’s dreary, pale pink office.

“Dolores Umbridge,” she said pseudo-cheerfully into the handset held by her thulian claws.

“This is Phil Y/L/N,” a middle-aged man said, his voice slathered with a thick Chicago accent.

“How are you today, sir?” Dolores asked suspiciously.

“Well, today we’ve had a bit of bad luck. It’s been a tough morning,” he croaked, “now if you wouldn’t mind excusing Y/N, we have a lot of family business to attend to.”

“I’d be happy to, just produce a corpse and I’ll release Y/N. I want to see this ‘dead grandmother’ firsthand.” She peeled the phone away from her face, smiling valiantly at a mortified Filch, saying slyly, “It’s okay, it’s Fred Weasley. I’m setting a trap for him.”

“Dolores, I’m sorry, did you say you wanted to see a body?” an ill-tempered Mr. Y/L/N questioned in disbelief through the speaker.

“Yes. Just roll her old bones up here and I’ll gladly retrieve Y/N for you. That’s school policy.” Dolores looked so pleased with herself, a devilish smirk resting on her lips. The telephone in Filch’s office chimed, and he quickly dashed to answer it.

“Hello, Dolores Umbridge, Dean of Students’ office,” his gravelly voice answered.

“Hi. This is Fred Weasley. Can I speak to Miss Umbridge, please?” Filch’s mouth went desert-dry in horror, his aged, grey eyes bulging out of his skull. He dashed to a taunting Umbridge, jumping and waving for her to shut up.

“I’ll tell you what, if you don’t like my policies, you can come down here and kiss my-”

“Fred Weasley’s on line two, Dolores!” Umbridge’s eyes went as wide as saucers; her whole face, even her bright fuchsia lipstick, turned as white as a sheet.

She was quick to switch to line two, listening to Fred Weasley’s voice which filled the otherwise silent room.

“Miss Umbridge, I’m not feeling too well today,” Fred started, a smug and valiant grin on his face. He adjusted his clean and gelled hair, which perfectly complemented the perfectly-tailored suit he donned. “Would it be possible for Ron to bring home any assignments from my classes? Have a nice day.”

The only sound left in the office was the droning disconnect tone.

The ‘line one’ buttoned flashed bright red like a siren. With a shaky, wrinkled pointer finger painted with a coat of magenta nail polish, she hesitantly pressed the button, sucking in a breath.

“Mr. Y/L/N, I-I think I owe you an apology,” she said, mortified.

“I should say you do!” the deep voice on the other line boomed. Umbridge peeled open her lips for an apology, only to be cut off with, “Well I think you should be sorry for Merlin’s sake! A family member dies, and you insult me! What the hell’s the matter with you?”

“W-well I really don’t know. I didn’t think I was talking to you, I thought you were someone else,” Umbridge barely managed to spit out. “You know I would never deliberately insult you like that!”

“Find out where she is!” Umbridge hissed to an idle but nervous Filch, her palm covering the phone’s mouthpiece. He promptly scrambled around the surrounding metal filing cabinets, reaching for various binders and manilla folders.

“This isn’t over yet, do you read me?” The infuriated voice’s threat yelled into the frantic principal’s ear.

“Loud and clear, Mr. Y/L/N!” she responded while scouring the various sets of drawers for Y/N’s schedule.

“Call me sir, goddammit!”

“Yes sir!”

----

“That’s better. Mind your P’s and Q’s buster, and remember who you’re dealing with!” an exasperated George Weasley shouted into the kitchen’s phone, his voice at least an octave lower than usual. His look of fury was soon replaced with a smile from ear to ear, quite proud of the convincing-ness of his impression.

A dashing, suit-clad Fred Weasley soon strutted into the lemon-yellow kitchen, charismatically introducing himself, “Weasley, Fred Weasley.”

George held his palm over the mouthpiece of the phone, asking, “I’m scared. What if she recognizes my voice?”

“Impossible. You’re doing great.”

The self-conscious redhead brought the phone back to his ear, shouting “Umbridge!” furiously. Groaning echoed from the other end of the line. “Umbridge, calm down!”

“I don’t have all day to bark at you, so I’ll make this short, and sweet. I want my child outside of the school in ten minutes by themself!”

Fred gave George a harsh tap on his shoulder, hissing, “That’s too suspicious! She’ll think something’s up!”

“You do it then!” the other twin whispered back.

“Talk.”

“You!”

“Talk.”

“Fine!” he fizzled. “Umbridge! Pay Attention!” The magenta-suited principal was scuttering around her office, frantically searching for your schedule and something to repair the escalating situation.

“Umbridge! Changed my mind. I want you out there with them, I’d like to have a few words with you!” Fred swiftly slapped the phone from George’s clutches, causing it to fall on the tile carelessly. The identical gingers both scrambled for the phone, ending up in George’s grasp once again.

He yelled to the mouthpiece rapidly, “On second thought, we don’t have time to talk right now! We’ll get together soon and have lunch!”

Fred kicked George’s rear hard, causing a small yelp to escape George’s lips. “What the hell’s wrong with you?” he spat at Fred, who quickly slammed the phone back to the base.

“Where’s your brain?” he harshly asked his irritated brother.

“Why’d you kick me?” George retorted, hurt.

“Where’s your brain?”

“Why’d you kick me?”

“Where’s your brain?”

“I asked you first!”

“How are we gonna pick up Y/N if Umbitch is out there with them?” Fred rhetorically asked, seething.

“I- I said for them to be alone and you freaked,” George stated, reverting back to his timid tendencies.

“Now, I didn’t… I didn’t hit you. I lightly slapped you.”

“You hit me.” Tension sliceable with a butterknife filled the kitchen.

“Look, don’t ask me to participate in your stupid antics if you don’t like the way I do it. You make me get out of bed. You make me come over here. You made me make a phony phone call to Dolores Umbridge? That woman could expel me, expel us, and then, you deliberately hurt my feelings!”

“No… I didn’t deliberately hurt your feelings,” Fred said, his words tinged with guilt. “What’re you doing?” George grabbed his red hockey jersey and keys that previously laid on the island.

“I’m going back to Lee’s, Fred. I need some rest. Have a nice life.”

“No, no, c’mon. Don’t do that, George,” Fred pleaded ruefully, “George, come back. I didn’t mean to lose my temper. I’m sorry.”

“You serious?”

Fred gave a slow and sincere nod. George swiveled back around, setting his belongings back on the counter, his face lightened slightly.

“Now, to fix the situation, we’re gonna have to do something you’re not going to like.”

----

Fred and George peeled the sliding glass doors of the luxurious garage apart, revealing the interior, which was mainly lined with thousands of dollars worth of vintage car memorabilia, save for the treasured vehicle in the center.

“The 1961 Ford Anglia 105E Deluxe,” George said, his eyes pointed down at the prized pompadour blue car resting idly in front of the duo. Fred's eyes were also fixed on the vehicle, though his’ were illuminated with awe and mischief.

“Dad spent 3 years restoring this car,” he continued, hands behind his back, not daring to leave fingerprints on its shiny surface, “it is his love, it is his passion…”

“It is his fault he didn’t lock the garage,” Fred smirked, sauntering around the exterior of the automobile, slobbering all over the surface like a dog with fresh meat.

“Fred, what are you talking about?” George asked nervously, already knowing what Fred was plotting, “Dad loves this car even more than he loves you!”

“Fred, no.” Fred swiped his fingers over the perfect coat of paint, occasionally posing with the car as if he was a model on the front cover of a magazine.

“Que Bella!” he said with a chef’s kiss, still drooling over the car’s magnificence.

“Remember how insane he went when I snapped my retainer? And that was a tiny piece of plastic!” Fred paid an anxious George no mind, instead continuing his admiration for Arthur’s most valuable possession.

“George, I’m sorry, but we can’t pick up Y/N in that piece of scrap. He’d never believe Mr. Y/L/N would drive something like that!”

“It’s not a piece of scrap.”

Fred opened the driver’s side door, slowly sitting down in the comfortable cushioned seat, his umber eyes never breaking contact with George’s identical ones.

“He knows the mileage, Fred.”

“Look, this is real simple. Whatever miles we put on, we’ll take off.” Fred said, barely giving George the time of day.

“How?”

“We’ll drive home backwards.”

“No,” George said firmly, almost like a mother. Fred turned the key of the Anglia, its restored engine roaring ten times better than George’s hunk of junk’s.

“How about we rent a nice Cadillac, my treat!” He yelled as Fred slowly drove away, the revving of the vintage engine drowning out his voice. George stood frozen in disbelief, before Fred slowly backed up, beckoning George to join him.

With a heavy heart, George warily climbed into the back seat of the vehicle. And with that, Fred floored the gas, speeding off towards the Shermer High.

----

“I had a grandmother once,” Umbridge awkwardly stated, in an attempt to soothe your heart overcome with (fake) grief. “Two, actually.”

The suburbs outside of the Windy City lived up to their name today; Umbridge’s frizzy brown curls swayed in the strong breeze. The temperature today was the best it had been since last Autumn; it was a given that Fred would skip.

You patiently waited on the concrete steps outside the school, Umbridge continuing her “comforting” words, attempting to stitch the wounds caused by your grandmother’s staged death. You weren’t focused on the thulian tyrant, however, instead, your eyes waited on the road for the sight of a ruby-red-haired boy.

“Between grief and nothing, I’d take grief,” Umbridge said flatly.

“Great,” you replied softly, eager to shut the toadish old lady up. She opened her magenta-tinted lips to add something else, but she decided against it, promptly shutting her mouth without a sound escaping.

The stentorian roaring of the engine residing in cerulean Ford Anglia filled the silent air and idle parking lot, lightening your spirits instantly. While you didn’t doubt that Fred would’ve shown up eventually, his timing was impeccable. It didn’t hurt that he showed up in a killer ride, either.

A tall, lanky man drenched in a long beige trench coat, horn-rimmed sunglasses, and a businessman-looking fedora, which masked his fiery orange hair, emerged from the car, leaning against its body.

“Oh Y/N honey, hurry along now,” the stranger in disguise bellowed, his voice slightly higher pitched than ‘Mr. Y/L/N’s’ from the phone, a thickly-slathered Chicago accent present nonetheless.

“I guess that’s my dad.”

You grabbed the annoying principal’s wrinkly, cold hand, reciting, “Miss Umbridge, Dolores. You’re a beautiful woman, I wanna thank you for your warmth and compassion.”

A furious Ron watched from the scene play out from the large front windows of the school, immediately recognizing Fred and his infuriating antics with a scowl. Why should he get to skip while the rest of us have to stay? I’ve gotta catch him.

Umbridge looked near disturbed at your counterfeit words on thankfulness, before you eagerly stepped down to the car, giving ‘Mister Y/L/N’ a quick hug.

“Do you have a kiss for Daddy?” Fred jokingly asked with a smirk.

“Are you kidding?” you replied, leaning into his soft lips for a passionate kiss, which maybe would have escalated a little further if he didn’t drag you in the passenger seat of the Anglia.

“So that's how it is in their family,” Umbridge uttered as she watched the nearly-French kiss perched from her spot at the top of the stairway. She swiftly pivoted around walking to the front entrance to the school, when Fred floored the Ford again, its loud engine roaring off into the distance.

“Hi Georgie, you comfortable?” you asked, eyes towards the crampted back seat.

Once the three of you were out of Umbridge’s eyeline, a compact George sprung up from the lonely backseat, saying, “Hi, Y/N. No.”

“So, what're we gonna do?” you asked the dashingly handsome driver next to you with a smile.

“The question isn’t: What are we going to do? The question is: What aren’t we going to do?”

“Don’t say we’re not going to take the car home. Please don’t say that we’re not going to take the car home,” George mumbled, hopeful that Fred would comply, though he already knew that Fred would be doing the exact opposite.

If you had access to a car like this, Fred mentally narrated, gesturing to the amenities-rich Anglia, would you take it back right away? Me neither.

And with that, Fred recklessly rounded the bendy road, speeding off towards downtown Chicago.

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thelefthandersdilemma · 3 years

Text

Dining with Hands with Muslims

I didn’t always think about my handedness. Being left-handed means being subjected to a series of minor inconveniences that affects the fabric of everyday life. But it’s mostly invisible. There are times, though, when situations force me to confront my handedness. Like when someone sees me writing and they feel compelled to point out that I’m left-handed. Or when my handedness clashes with another’s culture and deep-seated beliefs. Like in this story I’m about to tell you. Bear with me here, this will be long—mostly because I want the world to meet the man behind the most absurd(?) extraordinary(?) experiences of my life.

Two of my friends and I were flying to India via Kuala Lumpur International Airport. Because it was a cheap flight, there was a 6-hour gap between our arrival in Malaysia and our flight to India. BUT instead of checking in early like responsible young adults, we hung back and waited at the last minute to check in. Like the idiots that we were.

At this point, I must note that Filipinos need a visa to travel to India. You could either get a visa beforehand or get one upon arrival. It’s a long story, but my friends got a visa beforehand while I opted to get a visa-on-arrival. In hindsight, I was the one idiot here.

We took our sweet time and arrived at the check-in counter with only 15 minutes before the flight took off. The girl at the counter looked at my visa-on-arrival papers and paused. She called to her supervisor, shuffled my papers around, and talked between themselves. Then the supervisor looked at me and said, ‘You can’t take this flight’.

What.

‘You don’t have a hotel booking. You need a hotel booking for your visa.’ He went on to explain that if I get denied a visa, the airline would have to shoulder the costs of my flight back to Malaysia. And then I’d have to book a flight back to India. It was too much trouble for everyone involved. He kept looking at his watch.

“But... But...”

‘Look, there’s a computer shop there.’ He points at a shop directly behind us. Does this happen often enough that it actually made sense to put a computer shop right by the check-in counter? ‘Run to that shop, book a hotel, and print it. The flight is in 10 minutes. Go go go!’

So we ran. I rushed to book a hotel, any hotel. But the supervisor burst into the shop and called out desperately, ‘they can’t wait anymore the plane is about to leave!’ Just as I received my booking confirmation.

‘I’m printing it out!’ I shouted just as desperately, watching him herding my two friends to an attendant.

‘We’re not leaving without her!’ My other friend cried out as the escort took them.

‘If you stay here, you’ll all have to buy new flights!’ We were backpacking. I guess we looked the part.

Running, my friend looked back at him and hollered, ‘Take care of her!!!’

‘I will!’, he hollered back.

Jesus Christ. Was I in a movie? It wouldn’t have been more absurd to me if my friend turned into a pillar of salt. But my disbelief waned quickly. I went back to the shop and had my booking printed. It was about 10pm. At least I was in Kuala Lumpur, right? There was bound to be a hotel just a stone’s throw away from here. I walked out of the shop to find the supe standing there, waiting for me. There was no one else to turn to. He took me back to the counter to buy the earliest flight to India. It wasn’t until mid-afternoon the next day.

‘Are there any buses or cabs that could take me to the nearest hotel?’, I asked. Apparently, buses only ran until 10pm. And we were not in Kuala Lumpur. Kuala Lumpur was 45km away. And no taxi would take me there at this hour. And he himself would take me to the nearest hotel. The movie in my head was turning into a thriller real quick.

To prove he was trustworthy, he gave me his business card. Mr. X Nizam. 100% certified employee of Air Asia. Nothing in there about whether or not he liked to kidnap stranded backpackers on the side.

We passed by the bus station and there were people lined up to board it. I don’t remember now if I asked him where those buses were going and why I couldn’t ride those. I just blindly followed this guy to a dark parking lot, gave him my bag, which he dumped into his trunk, and then sat on the passenger seat. I didn’t even realize he had a ‘talking car’.

‘Door unlocked. Door open. Door closed. Door locked.’ It announced ominously, in what I could now only describe as a Hello Kitty voice.

All the blood was draining out of my head as we drove farther and farther from the airport. I had no Internet, my cellphone battery was dying, and I didn’t have the appropriate plug adapter for Malaysia. The road was dark and the ride was long. I had one hand on the door latch and the other on the seatbelt latch. Where was he taking me? To his house? To a dingy motel room?

Then a building with blue neon signage came into view. A hotel! An actual, not-shady-looking hotel! But why was he going in with me? He insisted on carrying my bag and talking to the clerk. He then escorted me to an upper floor. Oh god, what if this was a secret human trafficking ring? He opened the door to a room, dropped my bag inside, and gave me the key. Did I have everything I needed, he asked. I told him about my charger situation. (WHY!)

But he did not cross the threshold. He stayed right outside the door as he bid good night and promised to come by the next morning.

He arrived at exactly 8am the next morning with a plug adapter in hand. We had plenty of time ‘til the flight—he thought he’d take me to a traditional Muslim breakfast and a tour of KL while we waited. By this time, I was 90% convinced that he was not a human trafficking crime lord.

LEFT-HANDER CONTENT STARTS HERE

He took me to a Muslim family eatery. The food choices were all burning red with spice—I couldn’t tell them apart! When I sat on a table with my plate, I immediately got confused.

‘Why aren’t you starting?’ He asked.

‘Where can I get utensils?’

He let out a chuckle and called to a staff, who chuckled along with him. The staff excused herself and went to the kitchen and prepared some utensils for me. ‘We don’t eat with utensils here’, he explained.

‘Oh, are we eating with our hands? I’m sorry, it’s fine! I can do it. I’m a Filipino. I know how to eat with my hands!’ I quickly dipped my left hand in the washing bowl and proceeded to grab some food from my plate.

‘Nooooo!’ He exclaimed, an unmistakable expression of disgust on his face.

‘What?’

‘You don’t eat with your left hand!’

‘Why?’

He lowered his voice in a whisper, ‘that’s what you use to clean your butt when you poo...’

Should I have told him that I was left-handed? That I actually use my right hand to clean my butt? I didn’t. If I did, he’d probably be even more disgusted. Probably lose his appetite too. So I took a deep breath and used my right hand instead. Having breached a major law of hand-eating conduct, he decided to observe as I flailed about with my right hand.

‘You eat like a 5-year old’, he concluded. ‘That’s how I ate when I was 5, before my mom taught me how to eat properly.’

‘You mean there are rules?’ The tide has certainly changed now but during these times and as I was growing up, eating with your hands was looked down upon, especially among the upper-middle class. You definitely won’t see people doing it in restaurants. Even in small family eateries like the one we were in, it would be pretty rare to see someone using their hands to eat. Some people wouldn’t even admit to knowing how to do it. This is of course rooted in our colonial past. In our history class, we were taught that one of the “good things” our colonizers “gave us” were the spoon and fork (and occasionally the knife).

To discover that hand-eating actually has a dignified, deeply-rooted tradition was a revelation to me. It definitely gave me a sense of pride in my cultural identity—an identity that centuries of colonial oppression tried to erase.

’You have to teach me!’ It was one of the most educational dining experiences of my life. One that I will now teach anyone bored enough to read this long-ass post.

Mr X Nizam’s Lessons on Dining with your Hands

Use only one hand*. Your right hand. Because your left hand is “dirty”. X_X

Rest your left arm at the edge of the table across your chest. Place your right elbow on the table and keep it there. Don’t lift it. Only your forearm should move at an angle to reach the food.

If you’re eating meat, pull a small, bite-sized chunk of meat with your fingers. Then pinch some rice and push them in to a small, bite-sized clump at your fingertips.

Use your thumb to push the food into your mouth.

Keep your hands clean. Keep your food on your fingers—absolutely no food should reach your palms. Anything you put on your fingers should go to your mouth.

Remember I mentioned the food being full of spices? Well, it did a number on both of us and we had to run back to the hotel to, erm, relieve ourselves. Don’t you just hate it when you meet someone through strange circumstances and then suddenly you need to drop big noisy ones just hours into knowing each other? I just sat there, enduring the noise he was obviously hearing from the other side of the room. And when I was done, I had to stop, pause, and reflect. Not because I just dropped a deuce noisy enough to wake the entire hotel, but because I now faced a dilemma. A LEFT HANDER’S DILEMMA. *dun-dun*

After what I’ve learned about dining with your hands and the left hand’s place in its etiquette, was I really going to wash myself with my right hand? What if we eat with our hands again for lunch? How would that make me feel then? But I couldn’t use my left hand. I had no idea how to do it. As far as I know, it was always bidet on the left and cleaning on the right. So I had to what was “right” for me. Heh. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and washed with my right hand.

---

*There are some types of food where you’re allowed to use both hands, but there are rules about it. Sadly I can’t remember them anymore. :(

#leftie #lefties #left handed #kamayan #left handed problems #left handers #left handedness

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shadow-scenarios · 4 years

Note

Hello~ may I ask for something slightly specific? I wanted to ask about a scenario in which the reader recently obtains the Meta-Nav but instead of the PT finding out first, Goro does. See, the reader and Goro have recently become acquaintances and reader thinks that the Meta-Nav is something related to illegal activity so she goes to consult their detective friend on this mysterious app! Haha, sorry if this is too specific ;-;

Hey there simulationone, this isn’t too specific!! I like creative ideas that change the plot & this has been my favourite request to write so far.

However, I did change the request slightly. I made it so that the Reader awakened to their Persona & gains the MetaNav!! I hope that’s alright with you. If not, feel free to message me again and I can rewrite it.

{ Post Writing Note: Well, I wrote way too much!! Sorry if there’s less Akechi content than you thought, I got hyperfixated on how it would affect the plot. I’d love to write a Part 2 full of angst with this, so feel free to request it!! }

- Nexus.

Dance with Justice | Goro Akechi

Life at Kosei High was predictable. Like a metronome. Constant pressure to be the best & high achievement boundaries, it was a wonder how she was ever accepted without some sort of moonlighting as a prodigy. These stories of mental shutdowns & psychotic breakdowns made the world look grim & everyone seemed desperate to escape it all.

Comfort was found in the Phantom Thieves and how they manipulated hearts. Dancing the line between immoral & illegal, it was a grey area where the who was less significant than the how. Society grasped onto them as miraculous saviours as they solved cases faster than regular forces ever could: Kamoshida, Madarame, Kaneshiro, Medjed. The world was taken by storm, these renegade rogues looking to change the world & it seemed they were no longer an urban legend.

Their downfall was unexpected, to say the least. Okumura was murdered in cold blood, his mental shutdown playing onscreen during an important meeting where he was about to reveal an important factor in solving this buck-wild case. A calling card was found at the residence, the sigil of their misdeeds. Just when the mystery was about to unravel, the threads gave way to a bigger problem: Did the Phantom Thieves cause the very shutdowns everyone was trying to escape?

Swiftly, the media capitalised. Labelling them as criminals, demanding their arrest. Everything shifted so quickly & she was caught up by the egregious claims of both sides. There was one thing for certain: The Phantoms Thieves had killed someone and regardless of their previous deeds, they needed to be brought to justice.

Naturally, the first viable suspect she found was Yusuke Kitagawa.

He was of the eccentric sort, gaining a scholarship through art. Everything the strange man did was usually for the sake of ‘ Finding true beauty! ’, which was slightly melodramatic. Before Madarame’s case, he was fixated on art singularly. Now? He seemed to have other priorities. Whenever someone would discuss the Phantom Thieves in an art lesson, there was a glimmer in his eye & the paintbrush that had been on the canvas stopped in order to listen in.

A victim of Madarame’s plagiarism, which gave a plausible motive. Despite this, nothing was concrete. She thought about her friend, Akechi. Was this how he solved crimes?

Obviously, the next step was to follow Yusuke around. Sneaking around was rather easy, all she had ever been known as by the student populace was ‘ the girl who was friends with Akechi! ’, so standing out was not much of a problem. There was not much abnormal. Despite being somewhat of a social outcast, he had a small circle of friends. Six in total.

Five of them were clearly wearing the Shujin Academy uniform on the day she spotted them. One was tall in stature with fluffy black hair & thick framed glasses. Reserved in nature but he always appeared to have some sort of witty comeback. Soon he became known as Akira.

Another one was a blonde, around the same height. He wore the uniform much like a delinquent alongside a yellow graphic tee. Obnoxiously loud, as it was never difficult to hear what he was saying even from far away. The person closest to him was Ann. She had platinum blonde hair tied back into pigtails & features of an American.

Makoto was next. Clearly more of a calculating type, she wore the uniform immaculately. Wearing her hair in a French-braid styled headband, she had maroon coloured eyes & was around average height. Most of the time, she was commenting on the boy’s behaviour.

Haru Okumura was someone recognisable due to the news about her father’s death, which was saddening. In her uniform, she wore a fluffy pink turtleneck alongside white tights with flower patterns.

Futaba was just as strange as Yusuke. She used a mixture of gamer jargon whenever she spoke and was never seen in a uniform. About middle school age, she carried around a set of headphones everywhere that regularly rested atop her maple coloured hair.

Stuffed inside of Akira’s bag was also a cat that they tried to hide. Key word: Tried. Six of them & a cat.

They frequented a local cafe in Shibuya, LeBlanc. It was a nice location & she had even gone in there once to listen in. Boss was kind, to say the least. He served coffee with a warm smile & the curry combined perfectly enough to encourage a smile out of her.

On a Friday, the cafe was busy. They had gathered at one table & chatted casually. Most of them looked forelorn. Akira eventually gestured for them to take the conversation outside, where they would disturb fewer people.

Following behind them, she paid Boss & followed, attempting to seem casual. They never noticed. Conspicuously trailing into an alleyway, Ryuji pulled out his phone. Listening in was difficult so she opted to pull out her own phone and record. One of them, presumably Akira, simply said “ Mementos. ”.

Mementos. That singular word triggered something & changed everything. As the world began to violently shift in a strange phenomena, hues of vermillion & mauve dotted her vision. It was hypnotic. Eventually, she snapped out of the trance.

Concealed by masks & flashy outfits were the suspicious group she had been following. It was blatantly obvious by their hair colours. However, the animated cat creature was a surprise. It was reminiscent of the cat Akira carried around but even stranger was that it talked. Then it turned into a bus. Which did not seem all that strange.

Inherently familiar with their environment, they sped off down the escalator, leaving her alone with her thoughts. There were so many reds & greys. Thick red veins ran through the sides in mangled forms. The wall behind her was dilapidated & the only way to proceed was the escalator in front of her.

A fatal mistake, really.

Recalling the details of the awakening are fuzzy at best. These lumbering creatures formed entirely out of shadow began to take notice of her unwanted presence. Cornered, desperate and alone. Insurmountable pain; the voice of someone almost familiar; then freedom & rebellion.

With the pact of her Persona, everything was clearer. Life had previously moved in rhetorical patterns, it was now a whimsical dance. Eliminating the so called enemies with a weapon in hand, she eventually found a way back to the surface. The door at the beginning looked to be a way out, so she threw caution to the wind & took the chance.

Fatigue came first in this dingy alleyway. Adrenaline had been fuelling the push to leave alongside her newly granted power and once that was gone, nothing would spare her from raw exhaustion. Checking her phone in the hopes of finding evidence, the video taken was still there, though it cut off as soon as anyone disappeared.

Even without evidence, she knew that this group was doing something illicit. So she texted the one person she trusted with this secret: Goro Akechi. He was a detective, surely he would have answers.

;; I must speak with you in person as soon as possible. It’s regarding the Phantom Thieves, I have some evidence for you. You’re investigating them, correct?

Knowing full well that Akechi lived a busy life, she did not expect a response for a while. After gathering the strength to stand once again, she headed home. It was the most exhausting experience ever, physically & emotionally. A few minutes after returning home, there was a response from Akechi.

I am indeed investigating them. If you have any evidence regarding them, would it not be more convenient for me to receive it via text? ;;

;; Yes, it would be, but I can barely even believe the evidence presented to me. It’s better for you to see it for yourself. Are you attending school tomorrow?

Indeed I am. Pulling away from the public eye has benefits. If you are free during lunch, we can meet on the rooftop and discuss the supposed evidence that you have found. Does that sound like a compromise? ;;

;; Alright. I’ll see you on the rooftop tomorrow.

The next day was filled with trepidation. Everyone seemed to be mulling about & with how slowly the clock was moving, it was if the school was in a state of chronostasis. Although she did not share many classes with Akechi, there had been a moment where she saw a mop of hazelnut brown hair amongst a crowd, so he was likely to be there.

Sitting on the rooftop alone was slightly boring but she understood why he was late. Every time lunch began, Akechi would be surrounded by people who wanted his attention. It must have been rather annoying.

5. 10. 15. Minutes ticked by. During the winter, it was exceptionally cold so not a single soul came up. The chilly winter breeze nipped at her skin & for a moment she wondered if it was Akechi that she had seen. The brown hair easily could have been mistaken—

The creak of the door announced his presence. With a formal apology, he recalled how his teachers were intent on swarming him with catch up work that he would inevitably never complete. Dismissing it all & moving along with the subject, Akechi got straight to the point:

“ What was it you wished to speak to me about? ”, he asked.

“ I believe I have ascertained the identities of the Phantom Thieves, ” was the only reply she gave.

Looking astounded, he shifted his glove via force of habit & looked directly at her.

“ That’s quite the bold claim, ” he returned to a neutral expression as the mask of the Detective Prince slipped back on, “ Do you have any evidence? ”.

Recalling the story to the best of her ability was tedious. From the suspicious behaviour Yusuke had been demonstrating to the video evidence taken from her phone. Throughout the entire story, he maintained a neutral expression so she was never quite sure what to think.

“ Usually, I would disregard such stories as a strange dream or a vision you had & declare your footage as edited. However, I have... also had an encounter in this strange phenomena as well. ”

Everything began to make more sense as it was explained. Akechi rattled off about the cognitive world, Palaces, Personas & even how ‘ stealing someone’s heart ’ was possible. He explained that his plan was to lend the Phantom Thieves a hand in their next assignment & catch them in the very act. Specifically, their leader.

“ That explains a lot. Let me help you. I have a Persona as well & I can fight in that other world. I want to bring the Phantom Thieves to justice. They killed Okumura & many others if they are the ones behind the mental shutdowns. Tampering with the heart of another is wrong... ”

“... Alright. I suppose it will make things easier if it is the two of us. I hope you are a very good actor,” Akechi extended a reluctant hand for her to shake. His gaze was calculated, cold. Much different from his tone of voice. However, she took his hand & shook it.

With that, a contract was signed. Both herself & the detective would bring about the end of the Phantom Thieves.

Word Count: 1.9k

Publish Date: 27.09.20

#{ crow }#{ you don’t know how much i loved this request }#{ specific requests are always the best ones because you know they care }#{ turns out i’m actually an akechi stan in disguise }#{ i hand out akechi content like i hand out drugs }#goro akechi #akechi x reader #persona 5 royal #persona 5 royal x reader #persona 5 x reader #persona 5 imagines

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pinkbubbles-and-bigtroubles · 4 years

Text

As She’s Walking Away

I haven’t been active much lately. Between my job and some health issues this summer was a lot and I haven’t written anything in a month or so. This is just a wee blurb, no smut but kinda angsty, just to see if I still had anything in me.

Calum thanked the bartender and lifted the bottle to his lips. He normally didn't drink American light beer, tasted like watered down piss, but it was dollar domestic night and he wasn't trying to get wasted to start the night. He'd finished his meetings earlier than expected today, and his friends wanted to meet up at Marguerite's. It was a decent enough place. Once a dingy Tex-Mex restaurant the owners gutted the interior and turned it into a pool hall. They took most of the kitchen out except a tiny space to make and press sandwiches. It was usually crawling with people, but Calum beat the crowd in, hoping to have a moment to relax before the night got started.

Outside on the terrace to his left he could see a handsome older gentleman setting up a chair, a guitar case at his feet. Javier played every weekend and the flamenco music was Calum's favorite thing about coming here. He grinned as he spotted two women lingering at separate tables watching Javi tune his guitar. Calum knew the guitarist had a way with the ladies, but he also knew from personal experience groupies could be a pain in the ass. Calum shook his head at the thought of the early tours. Intoxicated by the female attention, Calum racked up a body count, allowing him to indulge in every adolescent porn fantasy he and his friends could think of.

Between the booze, women and the grind of tour life, he'd almost flamed out. He'd found his first great love, which after two years broke his own heart when he cheated again, and she refused to give him another second chance. Since then he'd had a few relationships, nothing too serious. While most of his friends settled in relationships, a couple even had kids, he was satisfied being a single man and dog dad. He made a mental note to go to Petco tomorrow and get Duke some chicken stick treats he loved.

They propped the terrace door open with a fan, allowing the opening notes of Javier's first set to float throughout the bar as a few more people started coming in, claiming their spots at the pool tables. Calum sent out a group text telling everyone to hurry if they wanted dibs on a good table. He finished his beer and ordered another. He could smell toasted bread from the kitchen mingling with the night blooming jasmine as he listened to Javier switch to a slower song. People were steadily trickling in, but the room was still less than half full. He decided against ordering food and texted his friends again when she sat down across the bar from him.

Her silver bangles caught the light refracting off the cheesy disco ball hanging over the bar and slid across the polished wood of the bar, catching his eye. He looked up, catching sight of her as she carefully dabbed her eyes with the back of her hand. She swiped a pattern on her phone and Calum watched as the brightness of her phone lit up her face. The glow giving her skin a silver blue tint as she pursed her lips and typed out a message.

She was jiggling in her seat, annoyance or anger, possibly both radiating outwards from her reaching Calum sitting six feet away. He rolled his lips back, fighting a smile as he watched her read and reply to each message. She's cute when she's mad, he thought. His eyes taking in her large dark eyes and full lips. She wore silver hoops on her ears and left side of her nose as well as having a labret piercing peeking out under her bottom lip. He couldn't tell if her hair was short or just pulled back from this angle as she slouched over her phone. He felt like an intruder observing a private moment even though they were in public surrounded by people, but he couldn't tear his eyes away.

He racked his brain for an excuse to go up and say hello. He had enough alcohol to cloud his thinking, but not enough to lower his inhibitions so his shyness would fade. Women usually hit on him, if he was honest. When he had to chat someone up he usually led with a terrible joke, but given the way she was aggressively stabbing at her phone with her finger and muttering furiously Calum thought that approach would go nowhere. She looked up and caught him staring. Calum felt like she knocked the wind out of him when their eyes met. She looked away quickly and then stole a second glance before her attention returned to her phone.

Calum thought he saw the faintest smile before her gaze dropped back to the screen. His heart fluttered. He had to make a move. The only problem was his heart couldn't find the words he needed to say. She wiped away a tear and closed her eyes. Her chest rose and fell as she took several deep breaths. Calum wanted to get up, see if she was ok and maybe comfort her if he could.

His mind was clouded with doubt, afraid he'd look like another opportunistic jackass circling around her like a vulture. Some men were already lurking, hoping alcohol and sadness might lower her standards to look their way. Calum clenched his fist at the thought. He might not know her name, but she was definitely too good for the guy who just tried to give her an overpriced wilted rose he bought with his drink.

The bartender ran him off and switched out her drink. Calum saw a genuine smile of gratitude before her eyes flickered over to him once again. He dropped his eyes, feeling his cheeks burning. He had to say something now, or he'd look like a total loser. He received a text saying his friends would be there in ten minutes, and he knew he had to make a move before those idiots showed up. Calum took a deep breath and stood up.

He looked up and saw she was wiping away tears, but this time with a smile on her face. She was telling another woman who was scrolling on Calum's dream girl's phone while listening and nodding to the story. He stopped and watched them talking, feeling a sense of panic rising in his chest. Should he interrupt the conversation? Should he linger and hope for an opening? He couldn't let this moment pass. He had to talk to this woman. He wanted to know her name, if she had an accent, what perfume does she wear, anything and everything she wanted to tell him.

His feet moved on their own before his brain could stop him. He'd just rounded the corner of the bar when he heard a voice say, "Let's go." He watched her grab her purse and her friend grabbed her hand so they wouldn't get separated in the crowd. Calum felt like everything moved in slow motion as his mystery woman looked up at the last second. Her eyes went wide with surprise as she saw him coming towards her. She opened her mouth, but before she could say anything she was pulled into the crush of people surrounding the bar. The crowd closed in and Calum lost sight of her.

Thinking quickly, he handed the bartender a $20 to cover his $5 tab and elbowed his way to the door. He saw the top of her head heading towards the exit. He apologized to several people as he pushed past them, only to be caught just before he reached the door.

"Calum, what's the hurry, we just got here?" Luke shouted, throwing his long lanky body at Calum wrapping him up in a hug.

"Luke, I love you but let me go," Calum pushed away and Luke immediately let go. His friends stood in shock as Calum shot out into the parking lot just in time to see her get into an Uber and shut the door. His heart was pounding in his ears, but his throat was dry, his feet heavy and stuck in place. He was too late.

@sexgodashton @sublimehood @notinthesameguey @kiiiimberlyriiiicker1995 @rebelwith0utacause @maluminspace @mermaidcashton @malumsmermaid

#calum 5sos #calum hood #calum hood angst #calum hood blurb

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imagine-fight-write · 3 years

Text

Banana Fish, Vol. 1, Part 6

Hello, everyone! Time ran away from me again, laughing manically, but I am back!

So today Ash, after shooting his (former) gang members silly & laying down the law, goes to a doctor. Yes, really. But not just any doctor! No, no. This doctor is no longer licensed and does abortions. In the 80s. Which is also when this was written (1987, to be exact.) Well. I have no idea what to think, apart from Doc guy (his name is Meredith, a lovely name & looks it too) - Not-Doc Meredith has guts. No matter if who agree with what he does or not. But more importantly! Ash is wearing his lovely, comfy, totally 80s but comfy wool coat (pg. 65.)

(I want it so bad. Can’t you tell?)

And before I gush over the roller coaster ride that’s Ash & Meredith’s smack down conversation, I must bring your attention to Mr. Meredith’s poor assistant, Ms. Brandish. She’s a bit cold to Ash, asking he has an appointment when Ash is clearly a regular. Ash notes this, then says this line: “My own professional advise is to go throw that virginity away somewhere. Anywhere. I heard it rots if you don’t use it.” (pg. 65) And I’m just WHAAATTT? WHAT?

Like, good grief Ash, what did she do to you to be so mean? That’s utterly rude. Was he in a bad mood or something - I mean yes, he just got betrayed by 2 gang members & had to shoot them up & chase them off, that’s got to have cut him up, it’s clear his gang are people he trusts - he’s not walking on sunshine here.

No, scratch that! It doesn’t matter! You do not insult someone over how little or how much sex they have. Also, making assumptions is stupid! Just because someone’s single doesn’t mean they’re a virgin! Idk. This just blew me for a loop. I’m just baffled. Especially because, far as I know, Ash is never so rude again. Not to someone who has less power than he does (this is called “punching down”.) Maybe part of why this struck me so hard is because Ms. Brandish is a female character, of which Banana Fish has a distinct lack of. Like female street gangs. Where are the female street gangs? (wines).

I mean, Fruits Basket has them in spades, to the point of you wouldn’t even know gangs of dudes exist, because they’re never mentioned! So why not Banana Fish? Sigh. I’m not going to forget this (the insult or lack of female street gangs). But nobody’s perfect & Ash in particular has all the cause in the world to be messed up when it comes to sex (though that’s no excuse.) Don’t ever insult someone that way! Moving on. To a glorious, glorious smack down conversation. I LIVE for the conversations in Banana Fish and here the wit’s sharp as a knife. I love it. I love this even more than Ash’s convo with Dino which I gushed hard over in Part 5.

Was it Part 5? Agh, numbers.

https://imagine-fight-write.tumblr.com/post/641529643344723968/random-banana-fish-review-part-5-vol-1

Yes, it was. I am right, like always.

Anyway, I like Ash & Meredith’s covo more.

This is because, unlike his convo with Dino, Ash is on equal footing here, able to take and give smack talk. Neither he or not-Doc Meredith loses, it’s just an ongoing thing, and I love it. So, top of pg.66, Meredith comes out of surgery looking shady as all get out (the surgical mask doesn’t help.) So we already know he’s shady even before Ash confirms he’s not a licensed doc.

(And everyone says early Banana Fish art isn’t good - nach.) So. Ash starts things off with a quip, “Business is booming down at the clinic” only to inform us, “Mister Meredith is no longer licensed by the state of New York.” Also, Ash looks exactly like the smug teen he is when he says this, lounging in the not-doctor’s chair. I love it. I have to wonder. How did this relationship start? Is Ash’s comment a subtle reminder he could get Meredith in trouble if he wants? (It’s a very Dino-like thing to say, ugh.) Because it sure sounds like it. But Meredith also knows at least something about Ash’s past (see later in their convo) just as damaging. But at the same time Meredith does help Ash out in a major way later on - So no, I don’t think Ash is blackmailing him. Or if he is, Ash is mostly bluffing & Meredith knows this. Note also how Ash is bad at being nice to grown men (because of course he is.) So that might be part of his edge here.

And Meredith doesn’t take this lying down. He shoots back, “I have news for you Ash - that “J.D.” of yours doesn’t stand for Juris Doctor.” I’m scratching my head at this. It’s obviously an insult of some sort (at Ash’s intelligence? Which - haha, we all know Ash is smart at this point. Right?) Thoughts? Can anyone explain? Anyway, Meredith muses on the surgery he just did, “She had a fibroid on her uterus.” I have no idea what that means (tho I could guess) but it sounds awful. Ash quips, “you do sterilize the dustbuster first, right?” “Dustbuster” meaning uterus, I think. Also, dustbuster is a marvelous word. So fun to say. Makes me think of dustbunnies. Meredith is just, “take the medicine & go.” Like, give the man a break Ash, he just performed surgery. The medicine is, of course, for Griffin. Meredith warns Ash that it “only works for minor attacks” & “he should be in a hospital.” (This sounds like an old argument.) Ash snaps back with a great line, “What would they do - plant him in their vegetable garden?” Valid point. But - maybe actual doctors could help Griffin? Wouldn’t that be wonderful? Also note how this tells you Meredith knows about Griffin. He doesn’t know that Griffin is Ash’s brother (see later in convo) but he still knows about Griffin & his vegetable state. This is a lot of trust Ash has for Meredith, is what I’m trying to say. Ash being a teen with trust issues up to here. But, because he doesn’t know, Meredith asks, and you can hear the sneer in his voice, “Besides, what’s he [Griffin] to you? Don’t tell me he’s your lover.”

Sigh. Meredith also makes the assumption Ash is gay and shames him for it. Though it also raises the question - how does Meredith know or find out about Ash’s past, the one Marvin hinted about with the “movies”? Or does Meredith assume Ash is gay based on the context of him caring for an older man? (who he clearly hasn’t seen, or he’d know right away Ash & Griffin are brothers.) I hope for my health he didn’t watch those “movies” Marvin mentioned. But I don’t think so. I don’t think Ash would trust anyone who watched them. I wouldn’t either. And beat them with a stick. Anyway! More brilliant conversation (pg. 67) Ash - “I’ve got a favor to ask.” Meredith - “Uh-oh. Got confused and knocked someone up? I didn’t know you had it in you.” (Ouch. Zing.) Also, again the implication Ash only sleeps with men. Seriously, what is Ash’s reputation, & why does he have it? But then Meredith is nice.

“I’ll take care of it. I mean, being a dad at your age is a heavy responsibility.” Which is true. Ash is 17.

But also, way to assume Ash doesn’t want to be a dad.

Not to mention - have you noticed where he (Ash) lives? The (delightfully) dingy apartment Griffin is in? The fact that Ash has like, 1 set of clothes, 1 jacket, 1 coat, & a vest. Ok, scratch that, 2 shirts. But still! I have no idea what he does for $$$. Wait. Hold up. Stop.

Maybe that’s why everyone thinks he’s gay, because he sells himself . . . . . . . . .

Don’t mind me, I’m going to bawl my eyes out in a corner and simultaneously cuss out everyone who thinks, “No, buying somebody for sex is fine, of course they enjoy it.

And I pay them well -”

[ERROR. ERROR. TEMPORARILY UNAVAILABLE. ERROR.]

Whoo. I’m not recovered, but I am back.

Curse my avid imagination. And then bless it, because I love my imagination. No, I assume Ash does other stuff to get $$$. He’s a leader of a gang, for crying out loud. (I have no idea what they do, haha.)

Does anyone know? Please comment! Let’s continue. Meredith is all (snigger) “Did you knock someone up?” (and grown-ups call children childish.) Ash punches back with, “Not your usual services” and shows Meredith a packet of what was in the vial. Banana Fish. (pg. 68) Am I the only one whose ever only seen those paper medicine packets only in manga? There was one in Rurouni Kenshin too. Is this more of a Japan thing? Anyway, Meredith is like, “What is that?” Ash confirms it’s not dope & asks him to analyze it. Meredith is like, “Sure, for overtime” meaning “if you pay me” and Ash goes, “When you don’t have your hand up, you’ve got it out,”

Reminding the reader of how Meredith was grumbling about Ash having to call him before he comes in. Then Ash says, “Be seeing you.” And all I can think of is The Prisoner, an obscure British T.V. show,

Brilliantly reviewed by Dominic Noble here:

youtube

But wait! There’s more! Ash quips,

“Don’t let any of those tiny ghosts haunt you.” Meredith fires back, “I’ll do your autopsy for free when they fry you in the chair.” Ah, I love it. Such beautiful wit. This is how you write dialog. The reader doesn’t have to be told point blank Meredith does abortions - it’s eluded to in the dialog. Or that he & Ash have been doing this for a while, Ash paying for the medicine and picking it up. Even Meredith’s question of what relationship Ash has with the guy he’s getting the medicine for sounds like an old question he’s asked before. Or maybe I’m completely wrong & they’ve only been doing this for a few months. Who knows. Regardless, their banter is so refreshingly playful and equal compared to Ash’s convo with Dino. Sure there’s a power play, but it’s equal. And speaking of Dino -

I love his shocked expression top of pg. 69. This is the start of the famous duck scene I had to gush about in the last post. My priorities are important and valid! Anyway, Angie (and his fabulous mustache) is reporting to Dino that Ash was found with the body of the poor Banana Fish guy by his 2 (former) gang members. Dino rightly surmises Banana Fish guy might’ve said something or Ash took something off his body (both are true, as we know.) I like Dino’s contemplative face. The study is such a mob boss 80s den, I love it. Dino’s polio shirt with cravat bothers me, though. *I can’t spell cravat, help me. Top of pg. 70 - oh hi, Marvin, almost didn’t see you on the last page. Marvin asks to “grill” Ash, a.k.a. question him, and Dino is all, “No, no, he’s a sharp one.” (meaning Marvin’s not? Ha! But it’s true!) We learn the 2 (former) gang members are in the front hall, and this happens: Dino has a great line, “I think they’ve heard enough stories.” Angie goes “Sir?” Both he and Marvin have marks noting surprise or shock, or maybe flinching? But I don’t think either one is exactly surprised or puzzled. More - ugh, please not this. And Dino clarifies, “Drive them down to the Pine Barrens and kill them both.”

(Like, he doesn’t trust them to know they need to kill both of them, not just one).

But I can’t laugh because, not only is Dino ordering them to commit murder, but to kill 2 boys. 2 boys who know nothing. And they do. I will never forgive Angie. His mustache can burn to ash. Hercule Poirot’s is better!

And eventually the police find them (their bodies.) But first scene change! It occurs to me that there’s no real chapters in Banana Fish. I really think it’d help. But considering it came out in the 80s, maybe chapters weren’t a thing yet? Remember, manga volumes are essentially complied pages of the manga / comic from a magazine put into a book. There’s no chapters in a magazine comic, so there’s no chapters in the volume - yet. I’m surprised Banana Fish volumes haven’t been reissued with chapters & chapter title pages. Mine’s from a 2nd printing in 2018. Huh. Anyway. The police found the Banana Fish guy! And have no clue who he is. Bummer. Pros for the autopsy guy, Gordon, for being a Black guy, but also eloquent, (pg.71) *I can’t spell autopsy or eloquent “A gentleman among corpses, detective.” - This makes me think of Sherlock Holmes.

(That’s Basil Rathbone, for those in the back.)

The autopsy guy continues,

“Three neat holes like a suit coat. Nice and clean . . . You have to appreciate such distinctions in this profession friend. Why, the state of that fellow we have in here last Tuesday? . . . Made it very difficult for me to enjoy my hamburger.”

So Ash’s (former) gang members are good shots? Makes sense.

And that’s all for now. Hopefully I’ll be on time next Wednesday & we’ll meet Max, Ibe, and Eiji!!!! There is a diabolical plot against Ash! A bar fight!

#random #banana fish #banana fish review #part 6 #the prisoner #dominic noble #sherlock holmes #basil rathbone #manga

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nekoannie-chan · 4 years

Text

Universus

Pairing: Brock Rumlow X Reader

Word count: 1777 words.

Summary: It seemed like a normal training day for you and Brock until Johnny came to ruin the day

Warnings: Angst, this is an Horror AU.

A/N: Universus means Universe.

This is my entry to the @star-spangled-beard-burn ‘s Season of Fiction Writing challenge 2020 with the fall prompt #1:

“I TOLD you I can’t do haunted houses”.

Also my entry to the @marvelgirlonamarvelworld ‘s Val’s 500 Writing challenge with the dialogue prompt #3:

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t the one who fucked us all up. What trouble did you get yourself into now, sweetiepie?”

And my entry to the @anika-ann ‘s 500 Celebration Challenge with the Arrow prompt #5:

“You tell anyone about this, I will kill you”.

“…That’s just an expression, right?”

Is a horror AU.

My native language is Spanish so I wanna improve my writing skills in English if you notice any mistake please let me know and I will correct it.

I don’t give any kind of permission that my fics be posted in other platforms or languages (I translate myself my work) or the use of my graphics (my dividers are included in this), I did them exclusively for my fics, please respect my work and don't steal it. There are some people here who make dividers that anyone can use, mine is not this type, please look for the other's people. The only exception is the ones I gifted 'cuz now belong to someone else. If you find any of my works on a different platform and is not one of my accounts, please let me know. Reblogs and comments are always welcome.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Marvel's characters (unfortunately), except for the original characters and the story.

My other media where I publish: Wattpad, Ao3, ffnet.

If you like it please vote, comment, and give me feedback to improve my skills and reblog.

Tags: @navybrat817

You slipped and winced; Brock turned around and saw you on the floor, he went back to check if you were hurt.

“Are you okay?” He asked offering his hand to you.

"Yes, it's nothing, I just got distracted," you answered taking his hand and standing up with her help.

“Are you sure? You've had a lot of accidents and been distracted all week,” Brock commented with concern.

You dusted yourself off and looked at your boyfriend smiling.

"Come on, we've managed to survive that guy with the weird cloak and the girl who takes daggers out of her hands, as well as the group of weird kids who have a dinosaur."

"I still don't understand why they have a dinosaur," Brock questioned, putting a hand on his beard.

"After all we've been through, are there still things that surprise you?" You questioned incredulously.

"Not exactly, rather it surprises me that without having powers, I am still alive," he replied.

"That is because I’m healing all your wounds in the missions with my powers, but your destiny would probably be different if I didn’t do it," you agreed with satisfaction.

"Always so modest," he said wryly.

“Of course, well next time I won't heal you and I don’t know who’s gonna help you.”

"I don't think you will be so cruel ... are you?" He asked nervously.

"Challenge me and you will see," you threatened.

"You know I love you so much, right?" Brock replied, trying to sound friendly and approaching you.

"Don't even think about it," you stopped him by putting your hand on his chest.

"Don't be mad, babe, but as soon as the fair will be in the town, I will take you to the haunted house."

He got closer and started kissing your arm.

"Noooo, you know I hate haunted houses, let me," you said laughing, you knew what he was trying.

If you let him continue, he would achieve his goal and you could no longer pretend that you were upset with him, although obviously, at night you were going to take revenge. You saw the time and decided it was better to return to compound before they will start looking for them or they will find you in a "compromising" situation.

Baxter Building

Johnny saw the object in his hands, he had heard Ben talk about it, and obviously, Reed had created it, although he could not understand what it was for, he shook it a little, but nothing happened.

Maybe he could take it with Y/N and Wanda and see if they could find out what that item was doing or what it was for.

He immediately saved it and went to the compound, it would surely be a very fun visit, as long as the three of you were there you used to have many adventures.

Compound

"Hello ladies," Johnny said, entering to the place.

“What are you doing here?” Brock asked.

Johnny and Brock didn't get along at all since Brock thought Johnny liked you.

“What is that?” Wanda asked when she saw what Johnny was holding.

"I don't know, I found it in Reed's lab, but you two are very smart and I know you'll help me find out," Johnny replied, ignoring Brock.

"Well ... it seems ... something Reed is probably going to be very upset if he doesn't find it when he looks for it," you said.

“Oh come on! I don't think…!”

At that time the Multisect activated and everything went dark for a few seconds.

Unknown place

You opened your eyes confused, you felt stunned, you assumed that the others were too, you turned looking for the rest, who were lying in the place, you did not know where they were, and you did not even seem familiar.

“Is everyone okay?” Johnny asked, getting up.

“Where we are?” Brock asked sulkily, he was sure you were going to have problems.

"This place is very dingy," Wanda said scared.

"I just hope a madman with a machete or an electric saw doesn't show up and wants to kill us," you said.

"Well, Tinker Bell, take us back to the compound," Brock ordered.

"Yes, of course," Johnny muttered as he waved the Multisect.

You and Wanda exchanged glances, you knew Johnny, and so you would have to find another way to return to the compound… although perhaps you should first find out where you were. Johnny seemed nervous, he didn't know how said object worked.

“Well, well, well. If it isn't the one who fucked us all up. What trouble did you get yourself into now, sweetie pie? ”

“Brock, this is not the time for sarcasm, we must find out where we are supposed to be and, above all, how to return to the compound…”

“Your idiot friend brought us who knows where, we have no weapons apart from those we carry for training, or anything to defend ourselves as we know, we will have to improvise and worst of all, we have not the slightest idea of what the ground, ”Brock interrupted.

"We have Wanda who has powers, Johnny has powers, I have powers, we will be fine, and apart from that is what training is for, right?"

Brock growled disgruntled, he did not like what was happening at all, of course, he could have hand-to-hand combat, which was his speciality, but he knew well that for some things, having some kind of power was more effective and weapons they were a great help too.

“Johnny please, don't lose that thing, I don't care if Reed scolds you, but we surely need it to return home…”

You heard a sound nearby as if someone was dragging chains and stepping on leaves, the four of you put themselves in a position to defend yourselves if necessary.

“What was that?” You asked scared in a whisper.

"I think your question is rather where we are?" Wanda corrected.

"We have two options, or we stay here like idiots while Tinkerbell tries to fix that shit or we start walking to find a way out, obviously we shouldn't separate," Brock suggested.

You turned to see Johnny, who smiled nervously.

"I don't know how it works," he admitted.

Brock sighed exasperated, you would have to walk without knowing what dangers there were.

"I don't know who is more useless if this one or Rogers, although at the moment I think we already have a winner," Brock mumbled.

“Then what do we do? “You asked.

Johnny pushed himself to be able to fly, however, it did not work, just as Wanda tried to use her powers creating a field, there was no success either.

"Okay, we are screwed, I think we will have to walk to get to the highway ... or somewhere that can bring us closer to a populated area, maybe there we can get a phone to call the others and come for us," you said while you were looking for the compass in your pockets.

Once you found it, you started walking towards where the compass indicated that it was the north, Wanda took your hand to try to control the fear that both of you felt, Brock had an angry and Johnny tried to make a flame appear in his fingers.

The forest seemed huge and endless, you lost track of time, you no longer knew if you walked for hours or minutes, each time the place became gloomier.

“Are you sure it's the right way? “Wanda questioned.

"I don't know, I don't even know where we are, I'm just following where the compass tells me its north," you replied.

Suddenly Brock stopped them, you looked at him asking for explanations; however, he put a finger to his mouth to silence everyone, you hid behind a huge tree.

A group of people with masks passed by, it seemed that they had some hostages that they were taking somewhere.

"We should help them," you whisper.

"We cannot care about others."

"Although I never liked him, your boyfriend is right," Johnny said.

you began to walk slowly so as not to attract attention and to run away when you were far enough they ran into another guy wearing another mask, so Brock and you shot him, you did no harm him, he began to chase you, you separated into two groups, you and Brock, Wanda and Johnny, without realizing it.

After you made sure you weren't chasing them anymore, you stopped, turned around looking for your friends while trying to catch your breath.

"Brock ... where are Wanda and Johnny?" You asked raggedly.

"I don't know ... I thought they were coming after us."

“Do we look for them or what do we do?”

"First, not to separate, second, we have to walk trying to avoid those damned fools and find them."

You held hands and began to walk, it was difficult to determine if you had already walked through the place or not, at times you had to run again when you were being chased.

"I TOLD you I can't do haunted houses".

"This is not a damn haunted house, it is a fuckin’ haunted forest," Brock replied.

"Anyway, Brock, I'm seriously scared, we must find Wanda and Johnny," you whimpered.

You were surrounded, it seemed that there was no escape, you tried to run until you ended up crashing into the other couple.

“Are you okay?” Wanda asked terrified.

“We are still alive, but I don't know how long…”

Impulsively Johnny threw the Multisect at the attackers, which activated at the exact moment when it looked like they were going to attack you.

You saw the others without understanding, nobody knew how you came to the compound, and the only thing that mattered was that you were safe. You and Wanda hugged each other while Brock grabbed Johnny by the collar of his shirt to threaten him.

"You tell anyone about this, I will kill you."

"... That’s just an expression, right?"

"No jerk, I'm serious ..."

“Brock is enough, Johnny already learned the lesson, he is going to return the object to Reed's laboratory, right Johnny? “You broke in separating the men.

“Yeah, yeah, of course.

"You know what, we're going to go with Johnny," Wanda said.

You entered the laboratory and Johnny left the Multisect where he had found it, then you went to the hall and there you found Reed.

"Hi guys, haven't you seen my Multisect?" Reed asked.

“Your…what?”

“The Multisect, it serves to travel to other universes… you know, forget it, I don't want you to get into troubles.”

"Doctor Richards, if you knew ..." You spluttered as he left.

#SeasonsofFiction2020 #Val’s500challenge #challenge500ann #brock rumlow #brock rumlow x reader #brock fanfic #brock rumlow fanfic #brock rumlow x you #brockrumlow #brock rumlow x mutant reader #brockrumlow x reader #brock rumlow x y/n #brockrumlow x y/n #brockrumlow x mutant reader

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your-rose-highness · 4 years

Text

Tell Me What Is Love (Ch-6)

note- Feat. JB (Jaebeom) of GOT7.

It was the middle of May when the songs of spring were heard the loudest. Hye hee walked along the Han river, the world seemed a blur in front of her eyes. The crowd seemed to buzz with ecstasy, a sight of the most beautiful sunset lay ahead of them. The golden yellow soft waves of the river mimicked the sun’s dramatic mood, as though pretending to be the same.

I’m a part of you, it seemed to whisper.

Hye hee’s feet stopped suddenly, lifting her head to watch the world gleam. After all these years, Baekhyun was still the sun she glittered for. Something drew them together. Or, she was imagining it all. What did she have? She was left with nothing. At the end of the day, she would have to go back to her empty and dingy apartment, meeting ghosts of her past. Where would she run to getaway? No matter where she went, her heart yearned for something unattainable. It had to be stopped. Like a stern mother who would discipline her beloved child, for the future unforeseen. The laughter around her rang in her ears, as though hurting her physically.

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She walked slowly to her neighborhood, walking the familiar path home. The streets were awfully dark she noticed, at this early hour too. It was hardly 7 pm. Picking up the pace, Hye Hee took longer strides to get to her apartment which was just around the corner. An odd feeling of someone behind her made her quickly look over her shoulder.

Was she being followed?

She had lived in this neighborhood for years now and never had she felt a chill rise in her spine as she continued to walk faster.

She left a sigh of relief when she sighted her apartment.

Hold on, why was there such a huge crowd in the front? Running to the crowd, she found people swarming around a woman on the stairs, who seemed to have fainted.

Jane.

“Oh my!”, hye hee exclaimed, her bag dropping to the floor.

“Here she is!! Ms. Song! A person just drove by throwing stones at this lady as she waited and rang your door!! I saw it with my own eyes!”, exploded the young girl who lived upstairs of her apartment.

“Did you see who it was?”, panted hye hee, hurriedly trying to pick up Jane’s head in her lap.

The right side of her temple dribbled with blood, and jane seemed semi-unconscious, trying to mouth words.

“No! I couldn't! They drove by so quickly! I tried to chase and note down the car number but failed. I couldn't contact your phone and I couldn't carry her inside. I’m so sorry.”, she whimpered.

“No its okay, thank you for being here.”, hye hee said as she tried to call the hospital.

“This is the first time something like this happened in the neighborhood. I thought this was safe! But look! We find stones being hurled!”, complained someone.

“Miss, you better inform the police. This incident cannot be dealt with lightly.”, advised her landlord.

The ambulance arrived soon, and hye hee found herself crying bitterly by her friend’s side.

What if this was because of that tweet? Had the fans found out? It can't be a coincidence that her friend was attacked on the same day that she went to the agency for her interview.

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“Will she be fine? She won't die, right?” wailed hye hee, looking at the paramedic.

The paramedic had a faint smile on his lips, which she missed, as she cried on the side.

“She will be fine, ma’am. It’s just a mild concussion.”

“There’s so much blood! How can this be mild?”

“Oh! Believe you me, this is mild. I’ve seen skulls being broken apart in my career, you can't imagine…”, he trailed off after he looked at hye hee whose face was scrunched in horror, “but you don't need to know that. All I am saying is that your friend will be fine, ma’am.

They reached the hospital soon, dragging away jane on the stretcher. While she waited in the corridor full of white coats, jane was called into the doctor’s cabin.

“Oh, guardian of Lee Jae In?”, he asked, looking up from Jane’s patient form.

“Umm… yes.”

“Are you her family?”

“No. I mean, she’s my best friend.”, hesitated Hye Hee.

“Right! But the official documents can be signed only by the patient’s family members.”, he said, while typing furiously on his computer, “sorry, hospital protocols.”, he continued, nodding at her.

“I see. Is she awake?”

“Not completely. But she will be in an hour. Don't worry, she’s fine, the scans came out clean. It could be worse though. May I ask what happened?”

Should she tell him? What if this converts into something much more complicated?

“She fell down the stairs. There was a lot of water on the floor.”, she finally framed.

The doctor seemed to look at her with suspicion but didn't say anything.

“Alright. Please contact her family. We will observe her vitals for a day and then she is free to go.”, he sighed as he handed her the forms.

Hye hee entered jane’s room after she opened her eyes. Her usually strong and fierce friend seemed so weak, it broke her heart. A smile played on jane’s lips as she spotted her friend in the room full of fear. She extended her hand towards hye hee, as she quickly grabbed it.

“I’m so sorry jane. I’m so sorry. It’s all my fault. I thought I was going to lose you.”, cried out hye hee.

“Not that easy, love. Why are you apologizing for this? God knows why they threw stones at me… I haven’t written a scandalized piece in months…”

Jane wiped her tears away and pinched her hand to lighten the mood.

“I need to call someone to sign your papers. Anyone in town?”

“My brother is here. Mum and dad are in Jeju visiting family. Where’s my phone? Ah, here it is. Call him. I’m going to rest my eyes for a bit. I feel really tired.”, jane yawned.

“Yes, you rest up. I’ll call him. Oh, password?”, hye hee asked.

“00000”, jane mumbled.

“Who puts 5 zeros as their password in this age?”

“Aish. don't come at me now, I’m hurt. You're lucky I remembered. What if I had lost my memory? You could guess it and call my brother. I am now a soothsayer…” she mumbled as she closed her eyes.

Hye hee sat beside her to call Jaebeom. She had never met her brother in person. Occasionally having only heard jane talk to him over the phone, which usually ended with one of them yelling at the other. Classic sibling behavior.

The ring tone rang only for a few seconds before he picked up the call.

“Jae in! You have some courage to call me after two days!!....”, he laughed over the other end.

“Hello, Jaebeom? This is hye hee. Jane’s friend from the company?”

“Oh? What? Is something wrong?”, his boisterous laughter quickly turned into one dripping with fear.

“Jane met with an accident. We are at Severance Hospital…”

“What?! Is she okay? What happened!”, his worried voice boomed.

“She’s fine. Just needs to be under observation for a while.”

“I’m coming. I need 10 minutes.”, Jaebeom hung up.

Hye hee didn't have to wait very long as Jaebeom soon arrived at the hospital.

“Hye hee?”

Hye hee snapped out of her thoughts to look up, “yes. Jaebeom-ssi?”

“Yeah. where’s Jae In?”

“In here.”, she said, guiding him into her cabin.

She stood behind him, letting him absorb the situation. No one could have ever thought that he was jane’s brother. There was no single similarity. Except probably, the fierce eyes.

He was handsome. Well, jane was quite pretty herself. Maybe they have good looking parents?

“How did this happen?”, Jaebeom suddenly turned to ask hye hee.

Before she could answer, the nurse dragged him away to the doctor’s cabin.

What was she going to say? Surely she can't lie. Jane would tell him what really happened and then he’d want an explanation. What if the doctor told him? How was she going to explain?

He soon got out of the doctor’s cabin, looking a little confused. He headed to jane’s bed and placed his hand on her head. Looking towards Hye Hee he whispered, ”Dr.Mark said I can take her home tomorrow morning. Thank you for coming with her. You can leave now. I’ll stay here and take care of her.”

Hye hee had just begun packing her stuff when he questioned again, “how did she end up here?”

Hye hee gulped and felt her lips go dry. Something about Jaebeom told her that she couldn't lie to him.

“She was outside my apartment when someone attacked her with stones.”, she phrased.

“Excuse me?”, he yelled.

“We don't know who it was. Or what they wanted. My neighborhood was particularly safe, I don't know why someone would do this.”

He didn't answer, but his gaze screamed at her. “I'm sorry”, continued hye hee.

Jaebeom let out a sigh before turning his back towards her. Hye hee felt a pit in her stomach, the guilt ate her insides, convinced that this was all her fault.

She slowly moved downstairs and met with a sharp cold breeze blowing at her from the outside. It was pouring rain.

She quickly checked the time- 10 minutes to 1 am.

“Real nice. Thank you universe!” she exclaimed, digging through the bag to find her wallet. It's as if the universe had been conspiring against her today. She didn't have her wallet, nor did she have her card.

Stifling a rising scream, she decided to sit the night at the hospital, when she spotted Jaebeom, at the reception, coffee in one hand, looking at her.

He approached her swiftly wondering why she hadn't left already.

“What?”, he simply posed.

Hye hee couldn't meet his eyes, “I don't have money or an umbrella.”

“Where’s your car?”

“I… sold it.”

He shook his head and went through his pocket pulling it some money. “Here, go get yourself something hot to drink. I’ll get drop you home, wait here till I get my keys.”

“You don't have to. I’ll just stay….”

Hye hee couldn't finish her sentence as Jaebeom once again seemed to glare at her. “Okay.”

Sipping on her hot chocolate, she stood waiting for Jaebeom. The hot liquid seemed to cruise through her spreading warmth, instantly making her feel better.

Instant hot chocolate for instant happiness. The thought made her smile.

Only Jaebeom was looking at her, deeming her crazy to have been standing near the vending machine and smiling like a fool.

The two of them walked to the entrance, ahead lay a night, pitch dark, blurred from the heavy rain. Jaebeom was kind. Pulling up his hoodie he sprinted across the parking lot to make sure hye hee didn't have to get wet. As sorry as she felt, hye hee was overwhelmed with the gesture.

The car ride was quiet except for the faint rain sounds that hit the car, as they drew out of the hospital. He asked where she lived and soon reached. Stopping near the turn, Jaebeom got out of the car grabbing the umbrella. Hye hee just felt bad that he was being this kind despite having hurt his sister. Coming around, he helped hye hee get out of the car, half drenched as he shielded her from the rain.

“You didn't have to do this. I could just run in.”

“Right. Let’s have another one hurled stones at. I thought you said this was a neighborhood. If they’re throwing stones at you guys, I won't be surprised if they’re still lurking around.” he mumbled.

Bingo.

Walking a few steps ahead, they saw two dark figures, pointing towards the windows, as though speculating.

“What on earth are they doing? These little…”, Jaebeom whispered, about to confront them.

“No please! Let them go away on their own, they might be dangerous.”, hye hee blurted.

“What do you mean? You're going to stay here, while these little jerks lurk around you? How is that safe?”

“Maybe I could stay at the hospital.”

“I would take you to Jae in’s apartment, but seeing this, I wonder who’s lurking outside hers.”

“That’s a great idea. I can stay over at her place!”

“But what if something happens?” he asked, very concerned.

“It’s only me they’re tracking! Her house will be fine!”

They got into the car once again, driving through the familiar route to Jane’s house.

“Care to explain?”, Jaebeom inquired.

Hye hee took a deep breath, laying down a few important parts, obviously skipping the one about being terribly in love with baekhyun.

“Oh, so you're the one Jae in said knows an idol. Haha. I thought she was kidding. Glad to know she didn't make it all up.”, smiled Jaebeom.

Jaebeom was charming. Something about him put hye hee at ease, she felt safe. Quietly watching him from the corner of her eye. If he had dressed in a hurry and looked this good, one can only wonder. She quickly averted her eyes when she felt Jaebeom look in her direction.

He left quite quickly after opening the door with his spare key. Hye hee turned on the lights of the bedroom that she had so frequently crashed in on girls’ night outs. As her head hit the pillow, she let out a huge sigh. Today was quite eventful, and a lot of emotions washed over her simultaneously. It’s not that she didn't love baekhyun, but right now, love simply wasn't enough. There was a lot involved that she couldn't avoid. Alas, if only it was her she had to deal with. Baekhyun was a challenge. From what she knew, he could burn down everything and that was terrifying. Love shouldn't have to be a sacrifice. Sleep overcame her despite her fighting it. Maybe a few hours of peace? The quiet night lulled her to sleep.

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