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antxlss · 1 year

Text

north face jacket

pairing: rafe cameron x reader

summary: while at a party at the boneyard, rafe gives you his jacket. you took it even though you aren’t very fond of him. this led to things you would’ve never imagined.

warnings: suggestive comments

words: 1.2k

a/n: i’ve been inspired by this jacket because rafe looks so hot in it. as always, thank you for reading! if you have any requests, please do not hesitate to reach out! i love you, enjoy!

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my friend sarah begged me all week long to come to this kegger with her today. so i finally caved and decided to go. i’m not much of a party person, but what harm would one kegger do?

i was currently waiting on my porch. sarah, topper (her boyfriend), and rafe (her brother) were coming by to pick me up.

i grew up with sarah so i know rafe. it’s safe to say he’s not my favorite person in the world. he always picked on sarah and i when i would come over. normal asshole older brother things. ever since i’ve gotten older he’s taken a liking in me. flirting with me every chance he gets. i turn him down, obviously. he’s my best friends brother. i couldn’t do that to her. but god is he hot. but i know that’s just something i can’t do, so i ignore his advances.

after about 5 minutes of waiting on the porch topper’s truck pulls up. i step back and crack my front door open and let my parents know i’m leaving.

i walked up to the truck and saw through the windows that topper was driving, obviously. so naturally sarah was in the passenger seat, topper’s hand resting comfortably on her thigh. i opened the back door and there in all his glory sat rafe. i sat down and buckled in. we were off to the boneyard for a fun night.

the ride there wasn’t out of the ordinary, mostly just me and sarah talking out of our asses about whatever we thought of. the boys had their own conversation about how many birdies they’d had at their last golf match.

we finally arrived and the party was already in full swing. pogues, kooks, and tourons alike were all drinking out of red solo cups and dancing to music being blasted out of a single bluetooth speaker. we hopped out of the truck. all four of us standing at the edge of the fun.

“uh, so, what first?” topper asked.

“drinks, duh?” i said in an obvious tone. i made my way to the keg, topper, sarah, and rafe following behind me.

i reached the keg and generously filled my cup with the cheap beer. i downed half my cup before filling it back up. i made my way over to a clear spot where i unrolled a blanket i had packed. i sat down taking off my shoes and digging my feet in the soft sand. sarah, topper, and rafe came and sat down on the blanket as well.

“guys, let’s go dance.” sarah suggested, scrambling to her feet, her cup of beer still in hand.

i jumped to my feet “i’m in.”

sarah looked to topper and held her hand out. he gave her a look. “do i have to?”

she gave him her signature puppy dog eyes and within a second he was on his feet.

we all started heading closer to the group of dancing people when topper suddenly turned around.

“rafe, you coming bro?” he asked.

rafe waved his hand dismissively. “i’m going to get more beer man.”

with that we all continued to the “dance floor.” as soon as i got in the group, i felt all of their energy. i started dancing, downing my beer. grinding on guys i’d never talked to and probably never will. it was so electrifying.

after a few songs, i stepped out of the group to refill my cup when i saw someone staring at me.

rafe.

his eyes were following me as i went to the keg, as i refilled my drink, as i continued dancing. it’s like i could feel his eyes tracing down every curve of my body. he studied the way i moved it to the beat of the music. he watched every hand that accidently grazed me. his eyes bore into any and every guy that grabbed my waist and danced on me.

i watched as he walked back over to the blanket i had laid down earlier. i decided i was gonna say something to him.

i walked up to him, towering over him as he sat on the blanket. “are you done eye-fucking me yet?” i snapped.

“well, not really, i was kinda enjoying myself.” he replied with a smirk.

i plopped down beside him, the alcohol i had consumed catching up to me. “you’re disgusting.”

“i know you like when i say things like that to you.” he remarked.

i rolled my eyes and shivered as a gust of chilly wind blew by. my crop top and shorts weren’t doing me much good.

“are you shivering because you’re nervous from being around me, or are you cold?” rafe asked.

“i’m cold you dipshit.” i sneered.

i felt warm, fuzzy fabric drape over my shoulders. i glared over my shoulder to see rafe holding his north face jacket onto my body.

“what’s with the face, i’m just trying to keep you warm.” he argued.

“stop hitting on me.” i snapped.

“why?” he questioned.

“you know why. i’m your sisters best friend. i’m off limits. plus i don’t like you anyways.”

“whatever, just take the goddamn jacket before you get a cold or some shit.” he ordered.

i slipped my arms through the jacket, taking in the scent of expensive cologne, savoring the warmth “thanks.” i mumbled.

“you look hot in my clothes.” he smirked.

i reached over and smacked him on the arm. “i hate you.”

i know he’s off limits. i know i’m supposed to hate him. but no matter how hard i try, i just can’t. it was probably the alcohol, but before i even know what i’m doing i reach out and i grab his face. i crash his lips on to my own.

the kiss is sweet and passionate. like we’ve both been waiting for this for a long time. i feel his hands drop to my waist. i move mine to wrap behind his neck. i swing my leg over, straddling his legs, sitting in his lap. he finally breaks the kiss for air.

he presses our forheads together. both of us out of breath.

“i knew you liked me.” he teased.

i giggled letting my head drop to his shoulder.

“sarah, come on!” i heard topper yell.

“shit.” i quickly jumped off of rafe and casually sat off to the side of him. sarah and topper were walking up to us.

“guys, we are ready to go.” sarah groaned.

“yeah, okay.” i stumbled over my words, still shaken up about earlier.

rafe and i both got up and i shook out my blanket and folded it up. we all made our way back to topper’s truck. i grabbed rafe’s arm letting sarah and topper get ahead of us. i start taking off his jacket when he stopped me.

“keep it. it looks better on you.” he whispered.

i smiled. “you’re such a dork.”

“meet me in my room tonight” rafe knew i was staying the night with sarah, and i had some ideas of why he wanted me in his room.

“okay.” i replied. i pecked his lips and ran forward to catch up with topper and sarah.

what am i getting myself into?

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loguetowns · 6 months

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to be young

roronoa zoro x reader

your boyfriend thinks he's got jokes

"let's burn it down" + zoro for anon

1.5k words

a/n: it's fluff with very minimal plot (like absolutely none). also slightly ooc zoro? he's very lovey dovey and i'm not sorry about it

zoro knows he was a pain in the ass as a child. dragging his feet to do chores, loud-mouthing all the older kids, challenging kuina day and night for just one more battle - he knows he was a brat.

and, now, at the ripe age of 21, he likes to think that he's grown out of his childish ways. he's mature, seasoned by the hardships of adulthood - a promising young man, if you will.

"ha!" zoro snickers, "i made you look."

"you're so lame," you groan. "i don't know how you tricked me into thinking you were some playboy."

you knock his hand out of your face, but (like the playboy he is) in one smooth motion, he locks his fingers with yours.

"no tricks," he flashes you a grin reminiscent of your first meeting in that hole-in-the-wall bar. "a man can be both, you know?"

"don't i know it," you mumble. yet, for all your grumbling, there's a bashful smile tugging at the corner of your lips that reminds zoro of the moments before he kissed you in that hole-in-the-wall bar.

"anyway," you ignore the look of triumph on zoro's face. "as i was saying, that's my elementary school over there."

against the crimson sky, zoro follows your finger and spies a schoolhouse in the horizon. your other hand is still holding his, swinging in rhythm to his pace.

"that dinky little thing? can you even call that a school?"

"okay, not all of us grew up in a dojo with zen gardens and..." you motion in the air. "-and... meditation grounds."

zoro has to laugh at what you've come up with. his laughter bounces against the cobblestone streets, landing in every spot marked by the setting sun.

"meditation grounds?" he repeats. you scowl. "we didn't have any of those."

"no objections to the zen gardens, i see," you huff.

"they were nice! and i know you liked them. i heard you tell ol' man shimotsuki they were pretty," he pokes your cheek and you swat him away.

"well, here in this li'l town, we don't have any zen gardens but we do have a playground behind the church."

at this point, the schoolhouse has come into view, framed by the aforementioned church. it's got stained-glass windows that glimmer (like your eyes when you laugh) and there are flowers lining the fence (rosy like your cheeks when you blush).

around the back, zoro can spot the essentials of a playground - slide, swings, seesaw, and a carousel that looks like it's seen better days.

"oh, that's... nice."

"thanks for your enthusiasm, baby."

"you know what? you're welcome," he grins.

his sarcasm earns him one of your signature eye rolls, the one that says you're so annoying. and he responds with a devilish smile that says i know, but you love me.

carrying on, you motion towards the playground at the back of the church. "see that carousel? it flung me off this one time and i broke my knee."

he tries to picture a tiny you — baby fat in your cheeks, in a mismatched outfit, holding onto your bloody knee on the concrete. knowing how much of a crybaby you are now, he knows that you were probably bawling when it happened.

he wonders vaguely if you were also cursed with an ugly childhood haircut and snickers at the thought of it. unfortunate hair or not, he's sure of one thing — you must've been the most darling little kid.

"that's terrible," zoro tries not to laugh. "what a shitty thing for a carousel to do."

"right? i was so traumatized, that was the last time i ever rode it."

"should we teach it a lesson?"

the last time you saw zoro teach anybody a lesson, it ended with a bloody nose and a black eye. so it's with much confusion that you turn towards him with a knitted brow.

"what are you on about?"

"the carousel."

"what about it?"

"let's burn it down."

"burn it down," you repeat with an exasperated sigh and a loving smile. "are you crazy?"

he throws an arm around your shoulder, pulling you close. instinct has you tucking into him and, enveloped in his warmth and the scent of steel and mint soap, you find shelter in the spot next to his heart.

"crazy for you maybe," he says with a kiss on your head. "you know what could be fun though? we could go full scorched earth and burn the whole playground down."

"as romantic as arson sounds, i don't want to be complicit in your crimes."

"you're dating a pirate. fraternizing with a criminal doesn't exactly make you innocent."

you turn to zoro, looking up at him with your best doe-eyed look and the cutest pout you can muster (he almost kisses you right then and there in the middle of the square).

"but i'm too cute to go to jail."

that much is true, and zoro knows it more than anyone. you're cute when you're shy, cute when you're happy, and cute even when you're mad. in fact, how adorable you are is the one thing that zoro and that stupid cook can agree upon.

but your darling little heart belongs to him and he'll do anything to keep it in his hands - even if it means jail.

"i'd bail you out though," he rests his chin on your head.

"with what money?"

"hmm, good point. can i borrow some money?"

"are you gonna pay me back?"

"of course, i would never go back on my word."

"how good is the word of a dirty pirate though?"

zoro fakes an offended look, "i shower every day."

"mm, even so," you tap a finger against your chin, as if you're in deep consideration of your options. "i'll loan you the money but you'll have to pay interest."

"who's the crook now?" he chuckles. "okay, so what's the damage?"

"10 kisses per day," you declare. "compounding."

"easy. i'll even pay in advance for ya."

and before you can protest, zoro starts peppering every inch of your loveable face with kisses. he kisses you on your forehead and your cheek and your nose and along your jawline, ignoring your squeals and giggles. you couldn't even escape if you wanted too; he has you tight in his embrace, effectively trapped.

"stop!" you laugh. "i don't want your cooties."

"liar," he growls between kisses. "you want me so bad."

his barrage is relentless, lips brushing skin, as he gently edges you towards the corner around the back of the church. you land against the wall with a soft thud, cushioned by zoro's arms that are holding you so dear.

then, you sigh against him — a shy, little moan in the shadows — and, in this spot away from prying eyes, a switch flips inside him.

surely, he's exceeded his hypothetical debt but how could he stop now? not when his lips finally find yours, and his teasing turns into hunger for your cherry sweet kisses. he cages you between his arms, hands against cold stone, bracing himself as he takes more of you and gives more of himself.

"hah- zoro..."

he responds by leaving a trail of sweet nothings as he travels down to your neck, little confessions of love left on your skin. your hands travel up his arms and the way your fingertips kiss his skin leaves him dizzy.

but then, you suddenly break away and look over his shoulder with a quiet gasp and wide eyes. like an experienced fighter, zoro reacts with protective instinct.

"what? what's wrong?" he whips around but all he sees is an empty playground. hand still on his swords, he turns back toward you — only now you have a mischievous sparkle in your eye and a devious smile.

"made ya look," you cackle.

zoro's shoulders relax, but the absence of a real threat doesn't let you off the hook. he rounds on you, chuckling darkly.

"oh, you are so gonna get it."

and then the tickles start.

you squeal and he laughs, and you are both so, so in love. hiding away from the rest of the world, you giggle and kiss like two teenagers making out for the first time. zoro smiles against you as he appreciates the delightful irony of it all.

zoro's a fearsome pirate with a schoolboy crush and a love that leaves him with butterflies that he'll never admit to — but you know it anyway.

just like how you know his tough side, his soft side, his immature and kiddy side that still snickers when nami trips. the fact that you adore him for all these different parts means more to him than you'll ever know.

and whether zoro's a pain in the ass or not, a kid or an old man, 21 or 81 years old, he hopes that the way he feels about you will forever be timeless.

#zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x reader #roronoa zoro fluff #zoro fluff #one piece x reader #¡! ❞ [ fics ]#¡! ❞ [ req ]#another drop in the overflowing bucket of zoro fics that spawned post-opla #thank u mackenyu for being everyone's muse #i still love animanga!zoro sm tho ugh baby boy my love

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my-love-of-books · 3 months

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hey sorry if this is weird this is my first time requesting 😭 but can you do ftm flirty reader x five from the umbrella academy where that five is fighting some guys (you can choose who) and some how the reader gets in the fight to and helps five. Also the reader calls five pretty boy and some other flirty names like btw. Andddd thats all I couldn't think what comes after that sorry 😭 but you can continue off it tho!

Noooo I'm horrible at writing fight scenes😭 we shall try tho! The first fight I thought of was ofc the iconic gridy's donuts' fight, so wish me luck!!

Paring: five x ftm!reader —(honestly reader is pretty gn here, sorry ik thats not what you wanted anon😭)

Warning: cursing, NOT proofread (sorry), gun wound, really short

I huff and pull the stupid blazer –they said there was nothing else for me to where other than one of five's old uniforms– closer around my shoulders as I walk towards the donut shop Five had supposedly gone to. A small smile spreads across my face when I see my partner though the window, I let myself in and walk up right beside him; ignoring the older-looking man on the other side.

"Alright sweets, next time, don't run off and leave me at that house by myself, please and thank you" I say, pulling out a bar stool.

"you weren't by yourself, you had my siblings." he murmurs nonchalantly. "Right, Miss famous and the Junkie did directed me here, thought the latter would not shut up about my sex life." I laughed at the recent memory and smirked at Five. He sips his coffee; the Older man nods our way before leaving. "Gonna give me some of that?" I whisper, leaning closer to the school boy.

His eyes flicker to me, then to my lips, then back to my eyes. I raise my eyebrow at him, "In here? You perv!" I jokingly whisper. He scoffs and rolled his eyes, sipping his coffee again, but I see it's just to hide his growing blush and smile.

"You said it not me"

My devious smirk only grows "Oh come on, can't help it when you look at me so pretty-"

Suddenly the door behind us swings open and multiple men in black tactical gear with guns walk in, surrounding us. One man in particular moves to stand closer to us, almost between me and five. I sit up straighter, eyes scanning the room, looking for weaknesses; my eyes flick to the brown haired boy beside me who seems to be studying the coffee in front of him, rather than the room now full of men who want us dead. "Five" I whisper.

"that was fast... 'thought Id have more time before they found me." "Okay..." the black man's voice seemed to tremble a bit as he spoke; the corners of my mouth twitched, this would be easy. "...So let's all be professional about this yeah? On your feet and come with us. They wanna talk" "I have nothing to say"

"I do" I do my best to suppress a smirk as I stand up, Five glares at me. The mans gun swiftly moves to point at me. "It doesn't have to go this way. You think I wanna shoot kids? Go home with that on my conscience?"

"oh I wouldn't worry to much about that," I say "you won't be going home" Five finishes my sentence as he grabs a butter knife from the the counter and blinks behind the man, stabbing him in the neck. Guns start going off when I grab the, now dead, man and use him as a shield from the bullets.

"Hey assholes" Five calls from across the room, allowing me to run up to the closest man as he begins to fire at me and force his gun under his own chin in one deft motion. I glance around the room, where five is nowhere to be seen. "A little help here pretty boy?" With the attention now drawn to me I jump over the counter, hiding behind it for a moment when I here the signature *whoosh* of him blinking, this time outside of the shop, drawing their fire, before right beside me "I told you not to call me that" he practically snarled. I laughed a bit; as my shoulders moved I noticed a bullet had skimmed part of my arm. *Shit... Thats gonna hurt when the adrenaline wears of*" I think to myself, watching the blood dribble from the wound.

The lights were blinking, bullets still going off. I was trying to formulate a plan on how I could help when it all when silent. "Five?" I call out, standing up from behind the counter

"yeas darling?" He asks, tightening his tie and walking over to a still-moving man, instantly breaking his neck. "N- nothing just got worried for a second" my arm began to throb.

He helps me over the counter, "you okay baby?" "Oh so you can call me baby but I can't call you pretty boy?" He gives me a stern look. "It's different, you don't go out into the field, you could have gotten seriously hurt."

"excuse you," I murmur "I used to be one of the top field agents-" "-before they shoved you behind a desk, now come on we gotta get movin'." Five kisses my forehead and brushes my wounded shoulder as he grabs a knife and begins cutting out those trackers they put in all field agents. I do my best not to react to the pain caused by the bullet, he doesn't need to know right now, it would ruin the quite sweet moment.

#I didn't like explicitly say anything about reader being ftm #should I have? Idkidk sorry #I hope you liked it!#five x reader #five ask #number five #five hargreeves #five hargreaves x reader #five hargreaves x you #five hargreeves x reader #Five x ftm!reader #Five x male!reader #five x reader fluff #five x y/n #five x you #Tua #tua five #tua fluff

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doumadono · 6 months

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EMERGENCY REQUEST!!

HIII before this I just wanted to say that I really love your blog!! Your writing style is so organized and satisfying 🫶🏻

I was wondering if you could do Izuku as a parent to a rebellious girl. His daughter wasn't even rebellious in the first place, she used to be so sweet and so thankful for the gifts Izuku would give her. You could say that she was a daddy's girl because of how much she clung to him in her youth, but after her mother (Y/N) passed from a villain attack that could have been AVOIDED and the heroes were too late; she lost faith in the heroes especially Izuku. She also had some realization that Izuku was barely home and without her mother, the house felt so empty. Izuku's gifts were an apology and she started to receive more of them after her mother's passing. In time, her resentment for Izuku grew and she stopped interacting with him altogether even if Izuku made more effort for his daughter (whether it would be being home more often, cooking her delicious food like her mother did, buying more gifts, etc.) it meant nothing to her. She started getting in fights, turning her back against the hero society, going home late despite Izuku's protests and ignoring him completely as if she never knew him.

How would Izuku deal and react to this behavior? More importantly, how would he deal with the grief alone?

This is based of a true story because my older sister used to be like this back then, except our parent didn't make an effort to reach out. I wanted to see what would my favorite character do if his own daughter would be like this and he actually tried to make an effort. 😅

Rebuilding bonds - dad!Izuku & Y/N's daughter

Warnings: aged-up Izuku (+25yo)

EMERGENCY REQS MASTERLIST

Izuku Midoriya had always been a devoted father. He cherished every moment with his daughter, watching her grow into a sweet and thankful child. She used to be a daddy's girl, clinging to him with a warmth that filled their home. But that all changed after the tragic day when her mother, Y/N, fell victim to a villain attack that could have been avoided. The heroes arrived too late, and in that moment, something within their daughter snapped.

The once adoring child began to resent not just the heroes but also her own father. Izuku felt the weight of her growing anger and disappointment, and it tore at his heart. He tried to compensate for her mother's absence by showering her with gifts, seeing them as apologies for his perceived failures. The house felt emptier without Y/N, and the gifts served as a poor substitute for her love and warmth.

Despite Izuku's attempts to bridge the growing gap between them, his daughter's resentment festered. He spent more time at home, cooked her the same delicious food her mother used to make, and continued to buy gifts. Yet, nothing he did seemed to reach her.

One evening, as he prepared dinner, he couldn't help but feel a knot in his chest. The sweet aroma of Y/N's signature dish filled the air. He glanced at the clock; his daughter was late again. Frustration and worry clawed at him, but he waited patiently.

When she finally walked through the door, it was clear that she had been in yet another fight. Her face was marked with fresh bruises, and she refused to meet her father's eyes. Izuku sighed and set the table, laying out the meal he had painstakingly prepared.

"Sit down, sweetheart," he said, his voice gentle but tinged with sadness.

She obeyed but remained silent, pushing her food around the plate. It was as though she were a stranger in her own home. Izuku couldn't bear it any longer. He put down his own fork and looked at her with a mixture of sorrow and determination.

"I miss your mother too," he began, his voice shaky. "But pushing me away won't bring her back. I love you, and I'll always be here for you, no matter how angry or distant you become. I want to help you, but I can't do that if you shut me out."

His daughter's eyes glistened with unshed tears, and for the first time in a long while, she met his gaze. "I just don't understand, Dad," she whispered. "Why didn't the heroes save Mom? Why weren't they there in time?"

Izuku sighed deeply, his heart heavy with the truth he had been wrestling with. "I ask myself that question every day," he admitted. "I wish I had the answers, but I don't. All I can do is honor her memory by being the best father I can be and doing my part to make the world safer."

And then, without warning, it happened. She suddenly pushed her untouched plate of food away and shot up from her chair, her eyes brimming with tears and anger. The dam that held back her pent-up emotions finally broke, and the floodgates opened.

"I hate this! I hate you, and I hate everything you represent! You say you love me, but you're never here when I need you the most! You couldn't even save Mom!"

Izuku watched in stunned silence as his daughter's anguish poured out. Her anger and grief were like a storm, and he was the one in its path. He had expected this moment, had known that she needed to let it all out, but he had never been prepared for the intensity of her emotions.

She continued to scream and cry, her words a torrent of pain and frustration. She accused him of being a failure as a hero, of not living up to the ideals he had always held dear. She blamed him for her mother's death and for the emptiness that had consumed their home.

Izuku didn't interrupt or try to defend himself. He let her words wash over him, absorbing every bit of her pain. He knew that she needed this release, that it was the only way for her to begin healing. His heart ached as he watched her crumble before him, but he knew that this was a necessary part of their journey.

The room was heavy with the echoes of her screams, and as her sobs began to subside, Izuku approached her cautiously. Gently, he pulled her into a tight embrace, holding her close as she cried in his arms.

"Dad, I…" she choked on her words, her voice quivering.

Izuku held her even tighter, his own eyes glistening with tears. "It's okay, sweetheart. I'm here. You can say anything you need to. I want to understand."

Her tears soaked into his shoulder as she found her voice again. "I just don't know what to do. Everything feels so wrong. Mom is gone, and you're…you're never around… You pay more attention to being a hero than you pay to me…"

He sighed, running a hand through her hair. "I miss her too, more than words can say. And I'm so sorry, I wish I could have been there when you needed me."

"Why couldn't you save her, Dad?" she asked yet again, her voice filled with desperation.

"If only I knew, sweetie," Izuku whispered, his voice filled with regret and longing.

She sniffled and buried her face in his chest. "I don't want to hate you, but I don't know how not to."

He held her close, his voice soft and comforting. "I love you more than anything in the world, and I'm willing to do whatever it takes to make things right between us."

They stood in silence for a while, the weight of their emotions heavy in the air. Izuku knew that this was just the beginning, but it was a crucial step in their journey towards healing.

His daughter finally looked up at him, her eyes red and puffy. "I don't know if I can forgive you, but I'm willing to try."

Izuku nodded, tears still glistening in his eyes. "That's all I can ask for, sweetheart. We'll take it one step at a time, together."

The storm had passed, and the air in the room felt lighter. It was the beginning of a long process of healing and rebuilding their relationship, but they had taken the first step together. Izuku knew that it wouldn't be easy, but he was determined to be the father she needed and to help her find her way back to the light, even in the darkest of times.

The truth was, the grief settled heavily on Izuku's shoulders right after his wife's death. He found himself grappling with the loss of the love of his life, the mother of his child. The pain was relentless, and he often felt overwhelmed by sorrow. He had lost not only his wife but also his closest confidante, the person who had always been there to support him.

In the days following her death, Izuku withdrew into himself. He was a hero, but he was also a grieving husband and father. He would sit in the darkened living room, lost in memories of Y/N. Their laughter, their shared dreams, and the simple moments they had enjoyed together haunted him. He would often reach for the family photo album, flipping through the pages with tears streaming down his face.

However, he knew he couldn't allow his grief to consume him entirely. He had a daughter who needed him, a daughter who was struggling just as much, if not more, with the loss of her mother.

Over time, their conversations became more open, and the walls between them began to crumble. Izuku continued to work as a hero, but he also became a hero in his daughter's life. He attended her fights, not to scold but to offer guidance and support. He listened to her grievances about hero society and tried to help her understand the complexities of their world.

He also tried to create new routines and traditions that would help them both heal. They visited Y/N's favorite places together, shared stories about her, and kept her memory alive in their hearts. Izuku worked hard to make her feel less alone in her grief.

Their journey was far from easy, and the grief of losing Y/N still loomed over them both. But they faced it together, healing slowly, one step at a time. Izuku remained a devoted father, determined to rebuild the bond with his daughter and show her that heroes, even with their flaws, could still make a difference in the world.

#bnha x reader #mha x reader #izuku hcs #izuku x reader #izuku fluff #izuku midoriya #izuku midoria x reader #mha fluff #emergency request #izuku midoryia #deku fluff #midoriya fluff #midoriya x reader #mha midoriya #midoriya x you #deku x reader #deku x reader fluff #dad!izuku midoriya

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mouschiwrites · 6 months

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I love your one shot about Lloyd and his twin and about the tomorrow tea. I was wondering if you if it’s not too much trouble if you have any hc about the aftermath like what happened when Lloyd arrived home, twin’s reaction to their suddenly being older, etc?

You got it!

Word count: 685

Ninjago - Being Lloyd's Younger Twin After the Tomorrow's Tea Incident

Part I here

You bounced your leg impatiently. It had been several hours since your brother Lloyd had left to help the ninjas, and you were starting to get worried. You had both been instructed to stay put while the ninjas responded to a distress call, but when you received a call from Jay requesting that Lloyd (specifically him, and not you) bring their weapons, Lloyd decided to oblige him. You tried to convince him to let you tag along, but gave up pretty quickly when you realized that you could have the TV all to yourself.

That was several hours ago. The TV was no longer of interest to you—you were watching the dark sky outside more than the screen.

You stood up, resolving to call one of the ninjas to see what was going on. Before you even picked up the phone you heard the unmistakable hiss of the Bounty docking on the roof above, and with a rush of relief you hurried up.

You were met first with Nya, who smiled at you, but there was something off about the smile. You’d almost say there was pity in it, but you couldn’t be sure.

Jay, Cole, Kai, Zane, Wu. They were all shooting similarly pitiful looks at you as they each passed in succession. You ignored them, looking past them for your brother.

“Where’s Lloyd?”

You felt a hand on your shoulder, and Nya’s sympathetic face appeared beside you. “Y/n, there’s something you should know before you see him.”

You didn’t like her tone. Clearly, something bad had happened. You glanced over the ninjas. None of them appeared to be too roughed up, and with a sinking feeling you wondered if that meant that Lloyd had taken the brunt of an attack.

“What happened?” You asked, trying to keep the panic out of your voice. “Is he okay?”

“I’m fine,” a new voice came from the direction of the Bounty. It was familiar, but… altered. As if the speaker was using a voice filter.

You whirled around to see Lloyd. Was that Lloyd? It couldn’t be. He was so tall! And his voice; it was slightly deeper than that of the Lloyd you knew.

But he had the same platinum hair. His emerald eyes sparkled with his signature charm—part mischief, part maturity, all lovable.

Your apprehension must have shown on your face, because the stranger (or was he not a stranger?) laughed.

“I look a little different now, huh?”

You heard the ninjas scrambling to explain, but their voices were just noise to you as you stared confoundedly at your brother. You caught enough to understand that some kind of magic potion had caused him to age several years at once; everything else went straight through one ear and out the other.

Lloyd was smiling somewhat awkwardly at you. You didn’t like it. His chiseled face was so different from the youthful roundness that you were accustomed to.

This isn’t my brother. But it was.

The distrusting way you looked at him that night continued for several more days. Every time you laid eyes on him, it was as if your brain couldn’t compute that this was the same boy you’d grown up with. No matter how many times you corrected yourself, you just couldn’t seem to grasp that this wasn’t a stranger.

These thoughts weren’t helped by his shift in behavior. He had played video games with you mere hours before on that fateful night, and now he wouldn’t even sit on the couch with you. He was always training or helping the ninjas with their duties. You were lucky if he gave you so much as a passing glance, let alone a minute of his time.

You tried to tempt him: turning up the volume while you played his favorite games, deliberately splaying Starfarer comics on the table, anything that might’ve caught the old Lloyd’s attention. But this new Lloyd was simply too busy. Too responsible. Too mature.

You stared at your round young face in the mirror. Tears pricked your eyes as you whispered to yourself:

“He grew up without me.”

Thanks for your request, and thank you for reading! Take care sweets <33

(divider by saradika)

#ninjago #lego ninjago #ninjago x reader #lloyd garmadon #ninjago lloyd #ninjago fanfiction

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mikhardwheat · 1 year

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Eddie learns who the well-known “babysitter” is.

Eddie: hey, so I was wondering, who is your "babysitter", as you say, because it never came to my mind, how can you all have one babysitter and aren't you, like, too old to have someone looking for you for money Lucas: he isn't getting paid Eddie: what Mike: he's basically volunteering as our chauffeur Dustin: he asked me once if we're going to pay for his fuel Lucas: not happening Mike: wasn't he the one who offered? Lucas: yeah, we didn't even ask for it Dustin: it was months ago, he didn't bring it up since Lucas: he probably just tried to be funny, man is hopeless Mike: tell me you laughed, because he'd try to make the same joke again, just to prove something Dustin: no, I didn't Eddie: so, who is he? They hear some shouting outside, sounds like Erica and someone else are arguing. Lucas: please, not again Dustin: hurry up, before she makes him cry and we all go home on our own Gareth: did this happen before? Mike: not really, but we try not to underestimate Erica Jeff: fair enough They all go outside, Dustin already is annoyed. Steve: are we talking in different languages or something?! Erica: your’s called "dumb and irrational" Steve: how's it me who is irrational? kids aren't allowed to the front seat Erica: says who? Steve: the law?? Erica: excuses, excuses Steve: what can be a possible reason for me to make this up? Erica: others are kids too, you let them sit there Steve: they are older, and we don't have enough space in my car for y'all to be in the back Erica: someone can use your trunk Steve: no. Erica: why not Steve: because we have enough seats, and if someone is going to the trunk, it is you Erica: that's discrimination. Steve: no, that's because you're sho- They notice other members of Hellfire club, standing silently not far away. Steve's expression immediately changes. Steve: hi, guys, how was the- Lucas: don't you dare pretend like we didn't see you arguing with an eleven years old just now Dustin, to Eddie: it happens frequently, but we usually don't let them be together for long Dustin: Erica, I own the front seat Erica: didn't know it was signed Dustin: look under, I left a signature ages ago Steve: you did what?? Steve runs towards his car to check out the bottom of the front seat, meanwhile Hellfire club starts saying their goodbyes to each other. Steve: Henderson, I almost had a heart attack, why would you lie about vandalizing my car... Steve looks around, all kids all already in their seats, even Erica. Dustin pushes him away and sits down in his place too, leaving no room left for arguing. Steve sighs, closing the door, and turns towards Eddie, who's still standing, watching them with a clear disbelief behind his eyes. Steve, smiling: kids, amirite? Eddie: Steve: Eddie: Steve, already concerned: dude, you okay? Eddie clears his throat. Eddie: ye- yeah, I'm fine, thanks Steve: well, it's already late, so we should head back Eddie: yeah, you do that Steve: thanks for your permission Eddie: I didn't mean it like... Steve: I know Eddie: so, you are the mysterious "babysitter" I heard so much about Steve: babysi- He looks at the car, full of awaiting kids. Dustin checks time on his wristwatch and Mike sends him glares. He purposefully ignores both. Steve: yes, that'll be me Eddie: cool. Steve: cool. Eddie: see ya later? Steve: I guess? They stare at each other, time's passing. They keep eye contact for half of minute or so. Someone in the car makes a noise, it snaps whatever these two had there going on between them. Steve: bye, Munson. Steve: bye, Harrington. Eddie doesn't move until the car disappears from his sight. Eddie: Eddie: did I really just said "see ya later" to the king of Hawkings?

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #erica sinclair #dustin henderson #lucas sinclair #mike wheeler #jeff #gareth #steve the babysitter

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periprose · 1 year

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Florence - Chapter Three

After Sunday's rehearsal dinner, you, Peter, and MJ spend Monday together just relaxing and having fun- visiting a winery, then the beach, and finally having a movie night together. Peter gets more obvious in his flirting, and you become less confused about the whole thing.

friends to lovers, fluff, drunken moments, beach stuff, swimsuits, maybe a touch of accidental nudity, romance, mutual pining, and just a hint of lust

Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

The rehearsal dinner isn’t actually anything crazy- while you were at the cathedral, admiring the architecture and ignoring all the religious stuff, the workers of the Villa moved everything in place. All the outdoor tables, fancy chairs, but not the decorations yet: no long silk sashes and doilies, or flower centrepieces. It takes time to measure what should go where and how it will look. Of course, it looks great, just empty.

So everyone’s just chilling at the kitchen counter or the backyard, or the dining room part of the main hall. As much as MJ wants you guys to eat something all deluxe and fancy, Peter decides to go with Neapolitan pizza, which the chef makes pretty quickly.

“Ugh, you two are laying on thick. Keeping up with traditions and all that.” Logan comments, sipping on a beer as if he’d been through another war. Your dad has never been exact about what war that he’s a veteran of, but he kind of uses it as an excuse to be a grumpy asshole sometimes.

That, or you’re getting less sympathetic as you get older.

“Why don’t you hang out with the other adults, dad?” You voice your suggestion in a fake sugary-sweet tone, wanting him to leave, but Logan shakes his head.

“Maddy, Emily, and Philip are talking about wedding stuff- not my place to intervene.” Your dad gives you a look. “And I can read through your voice, kid. You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

To your surprise, Logan fixes a glance at Peter, something kind of protective and fatherly overtaking his face as he takes another sip from his beer bottle, and Peter swallows, his adam’s apple bobbing down in fear. You have no idea what that’s all about- you know that your dad kind of knows how you feel about Peter, because you weren’t exactly subtle about it, but why would he shake down Peter with that kind of intimidating look, especially when he hasn’t done anything wrong?

Not anything intentionally, anyways, you remember with a sudden flip-flop of your stomach. You’ve slowly been getting a little too romantically inclined towards Peter, and you sternly remind yourself- friendship is what you’re supposed to be trying for.

The chef lays the pizza in it’s cast iron pan in front of you, and it looks delicious- red marinara sauce lightly slathered over a thin crust, large slices of mozzarella melting in their signature round shape, and little basil leaves sprinkled on top. It’s not too hot, actually, so Peter takes a slice, and you take one, and as you split them apart, a tendril of cheese hanging between the two of you.

Peter takes a bite, and he smiles eagerly as he chews it down and swallows. “Try it, Howlett.”

“Okay.” You take a bite, and weirdly enough, it tastes so close to the one you two would always get in Naples, and MJ smiles as recognition bursts on your face. “Wow, that’s really good-”

“I asked him to make it closer to how they do in Naples.” MJ is unable to let you finish your sentence, and it’s a very sweet, silly thing that of course MJ would do, and you are thankful because you were hungry for something familiar.

“So much for trying something kind of new.” Peter remarks, but he eagerly eats his pizza slice too, and MJ has a pleased grin on her face, because she’s always loved being generous. In small little actions like this.

Who wouldn’t love MJ?

Even Logan takes a slice- he’s the type to survive off of maybe a morning coffee and bagel at times- and he, too, has a rare small smile as he eats it, and you wonder if something about MJ reminds him of Miss Grey. Logan walks away from the counter after finishing his slice, and you feel like that has everything to do with the similarities. The red hair, the kind smile, the understanding compassionate nature. Perhaps it’s too much for him at times.

You still don’t know your own mother, thanks to your dad’s inability to process emotional trauma.

“Remember when you burnt your tongue on the pizza? I think it was the summer before ninth grade?” Peter starts, and you snicker at that.

“Yeah, and I had to immediately steal your cold water because it hurt so bad.” You reminisce about how you took the cold bottle from Peter’s hands and chugged it, while Peter tried to steal it back. You finished it, and every Florence trip after that, Peter would always jokingly hold his water away from you.

MJ grins at the secret memory between you two- she’s not sure how you’ve both never noticed the sort of intimate shared life of experiences that are so clearly illuminated on your faces.

“Who wants a drink?” Harry interrupts, but everyone seems to be too tired for that, what with jet lag. “C’mon, guys! We’re supposed to be having the best week of our lives-”

“You don’t want to be hungover at your wedding, trust me.” Peter has that responsible look that he always has when he’s reeling Harry back in from his usual insanity.

“So what? You think I want to remember a bunch of boring vows? You guys are boring as fuck.” Harry rolls his eyes, and starts shaking whatever he has in his mixer, and Peter can’t exactly stop him.

“Babe, c’mon. I’ll drink with you, but these two are obviously tired.” MJ tries, and he looks at her, and sighs.

“Okay.”

The next morning, Harry is vomiting in his and MJ’s bathroom- you can hear it through the thinner walls, surely an aftermath of how many tequila shots he had yesterday- and you know today is supposed to be a chill day, so you just let it go.

There’s a knock at your door- and you sleepily open it, rubbing your own eyes, unsure of who it could be.

It’s Peter, looking like he feels stupid. “Hey.”

“Hey?” You stare at him, raising your eyebrows. “What’s up?”

Peter is just slightly distracted by the fact that you seem to have gone to sleep in not regular jammies, but actually, just a giant T-shirt. It comes down to the halfway point of your thighs, just above your knees, and your bare legs are really, really distracting, because they look smooth and supple, and he kind of thinks about gripping them, so he forces himself to look up, not right at your eyes, because somehow you look especially cute when you’ve just woken up, but from where Peter’s eyes are resting, he’s pretty sure you’re not wearing a bra.

His unfiltered thoughts stop there as he clears his throat. Peter’s a grown man, and you’re totally allowed to do what you want with your body- he’s a feminist, as mentioned before when he punched the TSA guy.

But Peter can’t help but think there’s some level of bias in his actions, even if he pretends he’s just your friend who cares about women’s rights. There is something deep inside him that he doesn’t want to admit- that he’s into you, a little possessive over you now, and he doesn’t know why or where this feeling even came from.

Peter hopes you didn’t notice him staring at your chest. “I forgot to bring toothpaste.”

“Of course you did.” You drawl, not really paying attention to how Peter’s eyes are flickering up and down your figure, because you’re still kind of tired, and you turn around and enter your room, so Peter can follow you in.

Obviously the first thing he does is check out your ass, which is just kind of peeking out of the bottom of your shirt, and your thighs again but this time from the back, which Peter swears is an entirely different thing that he needed to see for science. Even though he’s already weirdly known what your body has looked like for years, through different phases of childhood and teenage years- he’s feeling more attracted to you than usual, and he decides to blame his sleepiness.

The idea that there is a usual level for attraction to you strikes him, and he ignores it. He follows you in to the bathroom, where you’re already brushing your teeth.

“Here. Crest 3D white toothpaste.” You hand the tube to him, your mouth foamy and speech kinda incoherent.

Peter takes it. “Thanks, Howlett.”

You spit into the sink. “Wouldn’t be a trip unless Peter Parker forgot something.”

“Oh, you mean how you forgot pants?” Peter snarks back, and he immediately, immediately regrets it, because he didn’t want to draw attention to the fact that he noticed your bare legs, but he guesses his mind was so preoccupied that that was what he ended up saying anyways.

He hopes it sounds innocent.

“Uh, it’s hot. I can’t sleep with pants.” You continue brushing your teeth. “You should try it sometime.”

Well, that didn’t really sound innocent either, and based on how your face is turning red, Peter can see that he’s not the only pervert around.

For a Monday morning, Harry is kind of incapacitated- to the point where MJ decides he’s had enough fun and needs to spend the day resting. She’s told the chef to prepare some kind of soup for him.

Logan is off hiking with Ben and May- they left so early you didn’t even get to say goodbye- and so you spend the late morning being lazy, eating scrambled eggs that you made on your own, toast, and some kind of cheese that crumbled really nicely over the whole thing.

MJ and Peter are really thankful that you know how to cook- Peter will eat convenience store garbage (you’ve spent many an evening in your childhood watching him scarf down a hot dog and an ICEE slushie) and fast food until his heart gives out- and MJ is pretty picky and only really loves preparing salads, rice noodles, and boiled chicken. Setting down breakfast in front of them is always fun, because even if you just know the bare minimum for an adult, these two are always so easily impressed that you feel like Jamie Oliver.

“So, did everyone sleep alright?” MJ says at the breakfast table, taking one large bite of the egg-toast. “Mhm. That’s really good.”

“Yeah, it was fine. This place is too luxurious to even complain about.” You comment, and Peter snorts.

“Yeah, if not for the fact that there was a pea under my mattress, I’d be fine.” He says in a snooty, noble tone, and you start laughing. “What, you know that’s how they talk. I’m sure Harry grew up speaking like that to his butler, right, MJ?”

She closes her eyes, and sips her tea. “No comment. I might have had to teach him normal English in grade nine.”

You always forget that technically MJ met Harry first, and then you and Peter and them became one group near the end of grade nine.

“So I’m guessing Harry talked like this: ‘Forsooth, this time, m’lady Mary Jane, I would love to have your gracious presence at my chalet in France.’” You start, and you sweep into a deep bow, and MJ starts giggling, her face turning red.

“No no, Howlett. You gotta think of when he probably tried to woo her.” Peter’s eyebrows scrunch, and then he gets off his chair and bows even further, his face brushing the ground in front of MJ’s chair. “Mine dearest Lady Mary Jane, would thee go for an amorous journey to the theatre with me this nightfall?”

She laughs extra hard, and you know you’ve been beat. You’re laughing too- the you a couple weeks ago would’ve assumed Peter was flirting with her, but you can tell you both had the same intentions here. Peter’s just naturally very funny.

“I love you two.” MJ finally says, wiping a tear off her face, and you beam at her. “No, really, I do. I missed having you around me.”

“Well, don’t even worry. You can call us and we’ll try to be there.” Peter states, totally sure, and MJ gives him a sly look.

“You’re speaking for Lettie too? How do you know she’ll be free? Unless you’re just around her all the time.” MJ teases, and Peter’s face turns a very slight shade of pink.

Oh, so you’re not just imagining that weird tension that was there this morning. You have no idea why Peter would look at you like that, or why he’s being blushy now, but you know you don’t believe MJ’s theory on it.

“Well, we are neighbours… plus I know Howlett is a good friend. She would never purposefully leave someone alone like that, unless they did something wrong.” Peter sounds glum now, and there’s a bit of pointed blame at you- both you and MJ know that you tried to distance yourself from him.

So much for that. He coughs, and then shakes his head.

“Actually, it’s fine. Sorry. You wouldn’t be talking to me now if whatever it was.. was such a big deal, I guess.” Peter takes your empty plates and goes to wash them.

“What?” MJ mouths at you, but you shake your head.

“Whatever it was?!” MJ is shaking your shoulder while Peter is off to the side, photographing the Tuscan winery that you’re about to enter. You just told MJ that drinking two days in a row better not affect her, and she laughed and said as a model she’s done way, way worse.

“I don’t know what he means by that, either.” You shake your head, unsure of what to say, that apparently Peter had no idea that you were devastated by your unrequited crush on him. “I always thought it was obvious…”

Peter laughs as a small bird starts attacking his shoe, and he takes a picture of that, too.

You always liked that Peter was good at photography. For one thing, it meant that he was great for asking to take pictures of special moments. And it was an easy way to get Logan to like him when you were both annoying children, and it was the only thing they had in common.

“Lettie. We have to tell him.” MJ is whispering, but you are so against that, you shake your head wildly.

Peter gives you a glance, momentarily perturbed, and you thumbs up at him. “That should be enough pics, right? Let’s go in.”

“One last one.” Peter turns the camera towards the three of you- a selfie- and MJ flashes bunny ears behind your head as she cutely poses, a pouty flirty look that comes so easily to her as a model, and you press your cheek to hers, grinning ear to ear.

Peter looks bemused as he turns the camera over. “Huh. Who would’ve thought MJ wasn’t the only model around here?”

“Are you referring to yourself?” You joke drily, but Peter shakes his head, and doesn’t quite respond. He stares at you for a moment before opening the door to the winery.

“Is he oblivious? Is it intentional? How can you flirt but not get it?” MJ rambles on when Peter is out of earshot, and shakes her head before going inside with you.

The winery is very cozy. There’s loads of vines coming through the ceilings, and they stretch into a gazebo where you can sit and look at the acres of grapevines outside. The garden is huge, and there’s also apparently a whole basement full of barrels of wine and other alcohol.

MJ loves it. She’s somehow never been to an Italian winery despite having been everywhere, and she takes great joy in telling you how it differs from a French one.

Then the owner himself, upon seeing how beautiful MJ is, you’re guessing, allows you to have multiple samples. Red wine, white wine, rosé, and something called limoncello?

“Must be nice to get freebies all the time.” You comment, sipping on some red wine, and MJ shakes her head.

“If you were more confident you’d be getting stuff too.” She huffs, and then Peter snickers.

“You guys didn’t notice the owner hasn’t said one word to me, huh?” He crosses his arms. “Pretty privilege is totally real.”

The idea that Peter finds you just as pretty as MJ, supposedly, causes you to down your little sample cup of wine way more quickly. MJ hoots, clapping her hands.

“That’s what I’m talking about. I’m done with this, you want it?” She hands her sample cup to Peter, who shrugs with a fuck-it attitude, and drinks it.

MJ is delighted by the taste of the limoncello sample. It’s a pretty yellow liquer made from fresh lemons, and it tastes like a citrusy candy, very tart and zesty. It’s unique, but you can tell from the small shot you’ve had of it, you’re a little tipsy. It’s like 30% alcohol- definitely crazier than the wine you had before.

MJ buys not one, but seven bottles of the limoncello, planning to serve it at her wedding, as it matches so well with the lemon garden of the villa- but she’s also bought a bottle to drink right now, at the beach.

Tuscany has gorgeous beaches that Florence apparently lacks- so she’s quick to suggest a beach trip before heading back to the Villa. The only problem is that nobody has brought a swimsuit.

“That’s what shopping is for, Lettie. Take back a souvenir or something.” MJ is looking at tons of skimpy bikinis at the shop you’re currently at, but you’ve seen her in even less than that, so that’s not what worries you.

It’s just that she looks amazing in everything, and even if you’re being toxic about this, you really don’t want to be a before-picture to MJ’s after-picture.

“When am I going to wear a swimsuit in the city?” You retort, but you still look through swimsuits, trying your best to pick out one pieces or two pieces that cover your middle. Very modest, hopefully flattering pieces.

But when you and MJ go into the change rooms- Peter waiting outside dutifully as a good male friend- she looks great in a white halter top bikini, white bottoms, and a pale blue, sheer sarong wrap skirt just for some coverage. It’s only her face that looks ticked off.

“Lettie, what the hell are you wearing?” She shakes her head, your attempts to explain falling on deaf ears. You are wearing a fully covered diving suit- only your hands, face, and feet are visible. “C’mon, it’s supposed to a hot girl summer. Not deep-sea diver summer.”

You laugh nervously at that, unsure of how to say that you don’t want your sedentary coding body out in the open.

“Peter, tell her.” MJ looks at him, and you look for his expression.

Peter looks deeply conflicted, and his eyes flit from you to MJ, before settling on his answer. “I think Howlett should wear what makes her comfortable?”

“You’re getting soft, Parker.” MJ warns with those steely green eyes, and she shoves you back into the change room.

You watch as random swimsuits come over the wooden door, and sigh before trying the first one on. It’s a green bikini with flared long sleeves- giving more a cute 70s vibe, except it’s too long for your limbs. You show this to MJ, and she laughs before shutting the door and telling you the next one would be better. Peter tilts his head, nonchalantly trying to get a better view, before MJ shuts the door, and she gives him a pointed look while he stares at the floor.

You finally try on what seems uber flattering on you. The bikini top is a nice neutral blue, and it fits you well without any straining or bulging of your flesh. In fact, it kind of smooths out what you would normally consider flaws- or MJ’s confidence is rubbing off on you a little. The bottoms are kinda modest- they’re not leaving everything hanging out, but they’re still bikini bottoms, in the same shade of blue.

You don’t know where your confidence has gone, honestly, because you look in the mirror and you see… you see a pretty girl. A woman. You don’t know why the last time you wore a swimsuit was five years ago.

“Lettie, c’mon out already!” MJ calls, and you step out tentatively on your sandals, wrapping a beach shawl with sleeves around you just because you don’t want to be straight up naked in the shop.

“Wow.” MJ gives you a soft look. “Why are you always covered up?”

“MJ-”

“No, I’m serious. You look really hot, and this isn’t a ten-year-friendship thing where I have to say that.” MJ maintains. “This is with the critical analysis of a model- you look amazing.”

“I agree with MJ.” Peter nods, but his eyes can’t manage to meet your own. He’s trying not to accidentally think too much about how you look, like the time when he was fifteen and he saw you in your bikini and then maybe-on-purpose saved that mental image for later- he’s going to really struggle at the beach if he continues that behaviour now- but it’s not fair, is it? That you somehow managed to have the perfect proportions that drive him crazy and yet you’re also just so funny and sweet and he might be obsessed with you? It’s really your fault, he thinks.

Peter clears his throat. “You look good, Howlett. Maybe those Logan genes are rubbing off on you?”

There’s a little more levity in the air as you ask, pretending to be outraged, if Peter is trying to fuck your dad.

Still, it’s that little comment, that you look good, that plays over in your head as you and MJ sit, Peter trying on his own swimsuits, and MJ says she needs to use the bathroom, so she’ll be back.

You knock on the door to tell Peter- and the door isn’t locked properly, so it nudges open, and for a split second you see Peter and his peter, and he’s stark naked but he quickly yanks his underwear back on- and you shut the door and shut your eyes, scandalized.

“...Sorry.” You call out. “I just wanted to say that MJ went to the washroom.”

“...That’s fine.” Peter says back, but that’s not really what you’re focused on, at all, and you feel like a guilty friend because you should have just yelled at him instead of knocking, and you should not be thinking about how hot Peter was naked, because it wasn’t his intention to show you that.

But he was hot, wasn’t he, he just had to secretly have abs and arm muscles that you don’t really remember the nerdy teenage iteration of Peter having, and you don’t want to get too into it, but it’s been a while since you were around a naked man, and you feel flushed. You’re taken off guard by how you feel- there’s a sudden urge to kiss him, all over, make his hair all askew, and you have to stop yourself. Be normal again.

You figure you’re both even for how he acted this morning.

Peter ends up buying a pair of swimming trunks that are covered in little sunshine sprites- he says it reminds him of Super Mario Sunshine. Interestingly enough, that game was all about a vacation to an Italian-like place, too.

MJ seems to notice the tension between the two of you- and she doesn’t comment on it, not at first. It’s when you’re by the gorgeous beach with the turquoise waters, that Peter is distracted by, that she finally asks.

“Now that he’s taking pictures. What’s up? Why aren’t you talking?” She sits on the picnic blanket next to you, and opens up the deli sandwiches and limoncello for your impromptu lunch/snack.

“I, uh- I don’t know how to say this without it sounding funny- but I accidentally saw him naked?” You groan and then bury your face in your knees. “I knocked on the door and it opened and-”

“You liked what you saw?” MJ canoodles up next to you, eager for more gossip.

You nod, and she punches you, to which you shriek “ow!”

“Don’t you get it? You still like him! I was so worried that your feelings were actually gone.”

“I didn’t think you were so invested.” You mutter, but MJ continues on.

“Of course I was! You would be so happy with him, I just… I know. No meddling.” MJ stops herself before she gets too far, and you’re still trying to get used to a world where it’s increasingly more obvious that you still like Peter, and more importantly, he likes you back. At least, you’re more sure than you were before- in the past, your crush on Peter was entirely based on what a great friend he was to you- and now, it’s not just the leading on of being close to you, it’s explicit flirting. It’s really obvious, even for you.

You wonder when things changed for him, and how much time you might’ve lost by being a dumbass. MJ hands you a glass of limoncello, and you’re welcome to it- you don’t want to be sober right now.

The beach feels suddenly huge when you can’t get an exact idea of the size. The limoncello hit far more quickly than you gave it credit for, and MJ has pulled you and Peter deep into the water, where you’re currently wading.

“No fucking way, shut up.” You are listening to MJ’s drunken spiel about how she’s going to do a perfect dive into the water, off of Peter’s back.

Peter is drunk, too- you can tell by the way he keeps leaning into you too much. Or maybe he’s using drunkenness as an excuse, but you yourself are too drunk to verify that theory. You’ve been aimlessly roaming around the water, the little grains of sand being pushed around in a haze mist as you kick your feet. It’s nice and warm, the beach water is refreshing and cool, and you love how vividly blue it is. Maybe even more blue considering that you can’t focus on it too well.

It’s also astoundingly clear- you’ve watched little fish swim around and seen other people under the water, which is crazy.

MJ clambers onto Peter’s back, and when he’s got her somewhat stable, she leaps off, and sure enough- a perfect dive. Her hair looks neon-red in comparison to the blue surrounding her underwater.

“Holy shit.” Peter runs his hands through his hair in shock, as MJ resurfaces. The water is up to your necks, which isn’t a lot, but Peter still mumbles that she could’ve drowned.

“Nah, no drowning out here. We all took swimming lessons as kids, I’m sure.” MJ snorts, and you know that she’s kind of an excitable drunk- Peter, on the other hand, is fairly quiet.

Until he jokingly pushes you into the water, and you lose your footing as it’s more deep than where you were originally standing- and because you’re too gone to really think properly, you let yourself sink under.

He dives in after you, and you look at him, too drunk to process whether you should swim up or if you should wait for Peter to do something. In the sunshine under the water, Peter looks especially beautiful- his brown hair is glowing and wafts through the miniscule waves, and his eyes twinkle as he grabs onto you.

Suddenly you’re hoisted into the air, in Peter’s arms, in a bridal-style carry, and he grins at you. You wrap your arms around his neck.

“Hey.”

“Hey, Peter.” You shake your head, feeling rather safe in his warm arms.

“Hope you’re not mad at me? It was all in good fun.” He grits his teeth, somewhat sheepish.

Before you can stop yourself, still kind of drunk enough that you can blame that state of mind, you lean in and kiss his cheek, and Peter looks kind of shocked- but he doesn’t look horrified, not like how your now sober thoughts are thinking he would’ve been. If anything, he looks kind of… happy? Satisfied.

“...Sorry- I shouldn’t-”

Before you can continue your sentence, Peter kisses your forehead, and now you know you’re done for. You can’t escape the feeling of loving him, so you just look at the sky, trying to drop the happy little smile on your face.

“It’s just a friendly kiss, Parker. To thank you for being my hero and all that.” You mutter, all shy now, and Peter just nods, getting that obnoxious, doofy look on his face that you like a lot.

“Uh huh. Sure.” And he decides instead of dropping you here, he wants to hold onto you for longer- you’re just so cute in how you’re refusing to look at him now. He also likes wrapping his arms around your waist and back and those deliciously svelte legs- Peter has no idea why your uniform of choice is often massive sweaters that cover you up.

Peter carries you to shore, and MJ snaps a picture on her phone, thinking that someday you two would thank her at your own wedding.

It’s very, very hard to just chill around Peter normally now, in the villa. Especially because you’re so used to thinking of him as your buddy- actually your former buddy considering you spent some time distancing from him- and now to be in that friendship again, but also kind of in love with him again, it’s a little too much for you to handle. You’re avoiding his eye contact a lot, but Peter is a very sly person and manages to corner you in the pantry.

“Hey.” He reaches above you, towards one of the many shelves that are in this pantry, and grabs a box of something- but he closes you in between his arms, and you look up in surprise before looking back down. Peter is kind of evil- he loves teasing you, watching how your expression seems to go through a million emotions, and he thinks that he really, really wants to kiss you here, just so he can watch your eyes widen and then do it again. He wants to kiss you until you can’t think straight.

But of course, Peter is a better person than that, and although he’s lightly teasing, flirting, seeing how far he can go- he will not do anything too out there until he knows you want to do it too. Aunt May did not raise an idiot, and right now he can tell you’re probably at your limit.

“Hey.” You repeat back, maybe a little more breathy and quietly. Your hair is still a little wet from your shower after the beach- you’re wearing PJs again, this time with shorts. Maybe short-shorts so Peter can get a better look at you.

“Just getting popcorn for the movie.” Peter isn’t saying anything that wouldn’t be out of the ordinary for two strangers to say, but you hang onto every word, and he relishes in it. He hopes you never stop talking to him again- he just knows he’d be devastated.

“Ah. Cool.” You let Peter move a little, but you can tell his gaze is still on you, as you grab a bag of yogurt-covered pretzels. It’s literally the bare minimum of affection, and Peter walks next to you as you both leave the pantry, into the TV room, where an absolutely humongous flat-screen TV waits.

There are large L-Shaped grey couches and elaborately embroidered pillows everywhere, yet Peter chooses to sit next to you, and you can’t ignore that. Even Harry picks up on it.

“All these seats and you have to sit right next to Lettie, huh?” Harry chortles, mouth full of freshly popped popcorn. “I see you, Peter.”

“You’re still hungover. There’s at least half a foot of distance between us.” Peter estimates, using his hands to mimic how much distance there is, but his hand still purposeful brushes your thigh.

“Hungover? Please, I could be stoned out of my mind and still see how you’re trying to get into Howlett’s pants.” Harry snickers, and you feel your face turn warm.

“Guys. I’m still here.” You pull a blanket around yourself. “Have your body-count talks when I’m not around.”

“Sorry, Howlett.” Peter starts immediately, and before he can start his whole spiel about how you’re not just a body, which you already knew was coming anyways (if you were honest you would not mind being one of Peter’s bodies and the thought is both titillating and scary), MJ comes in her onesie and turns the TV on.

The movie is in Italian- you’re not even sure what the title means, Principessa dai Capelli D'oro, but you know it has something to do with a princess. She’s got shiny blonde hair, and a big poofy princess dress- and all the Italian men trying to woo her have thick curly black hair and mustaches and seem to want her especially because she’s blonde and different.

“This movie seems to be from the 70s, just based on the film quality.” Peter comments, but you’re not really focused on the movie at all. It’s playing, and you’re watching it, but you’re not really absorbing anything because you’re hyper-focused on every little movement Peter makes. Every rustle of his shirt as he inches closer to you, the movement of his hair against the couch’s pillow- it’s weird knowing that you’ve literally had innocent sleepovers with Peter as a kid and those same actions he’s done a million times before seem to have a new meaning- and you want to skirt closer, if not for the fact that MJ and Harry are right there.

Actually, you’re noticing now that MJ is doing her trademark stop it Harry noooo giggle which usually means that Harry’s face is in her hair and they’re about to start kissing, and from there it only gets more frisky and wild. You have many memories of accidentally being in the same room as them and witnessing things that should’ve stayed private, but you’re not exactly a prude, just a good friend.

Harry’s the one who seems to use sexual prowess as a personality, sometimes, and MJ likes being a bit of a trophy wife, even if she won’t quite admit it, and now she’s on his lap and Peter looks away. It’s kind of like a weird, real-life representation of what’s on both of your minds, and Peter gently combs back some of your hair behind your ear, and you think that you don’t want your first kiss with Peter to be here right now, because you’re kind of sappy and you want it to be private, so you pull back.

“I’m… uh… I’m kind of tired.” You lie, and Peter nods, and there’s some genuine joy in your heart that he looks so accepting of that, even if you’ve essentially just rejected him for now. “Want the yogurt pretzels? I only ate like two anyways.”

“Sure.” Peter takes them and pops one in his mouth, and something about the way his jaw flexes and his tongue peeks out of the corner of his lips as he chews has you feeling goosebumps, a hot undercurrent running through you, and you excuse yourself and go upstairs to your bedroom.

You hardly sleep at all.

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denimbex1986 · 13 days

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'Is Tom Ripley gay? For nearly 70 years, the answer has bedeviled readers of Patricia Highsmith’s 1955 thriller The Talented Mr. Ripley, the story of a diffident but ambitious young man who slides into and then brutally ends the life of a wealthy American expatriate, as well as the four sequels she produced fitfully over the following 36 years. It has challenged the directors — French, British, German, Italian, Canadian, American — who have tried to bring Ripley to the screen, including in the latest adaptation by Steven Zaillian, now on Netflix. And it appears even to have flummoxed Ripley’s creator, a lesbian with a complicated relationship to queer sexuality. In a 1988 interview, shortly before she undertook writing the final installment of the series, Ripley Under Water, Highsmith seemed determined to dismiss the possibility. “I don’t think Ripley is gay,” she said — “adamantly,” in the characterization of her interviewer. “He appreciates good looks in other men, that’s true. But he’s married in later books. I’m not saying he’s very strong in the sex department. But he makes it in bed with his wife.”

The question isn’t a minor one. Ripley’s killing of Dickie Greenleaf — the most complicated, and because it’s so murkily motivated, the most deeply rattling of the many murders the character eventually commits — has always felt intertwined with his sexuality. Does Tom kill Dickie because he wants to be Dickie, because he wants what Dickie has, because he loves Dickie, because he knows what Dickie thinks of him, or because he can’t bear the fact that Dickie doesn’t love him? Ordinarily, I’m not a big fan of completely ignoring authorial intent, and I’m inclined to let novelists have the last word on factual information about their own creations. But Highsmith, a cantankerous alcoholic misanthrope who was long past her best days when she made that statement, may have forgotten, or wanted to disown, her own initial portrait of Tom Ripley, which is — especially considering the time in which it was written — perfumed with unmistakable implication.

Consider the case that Highsmith puts forward in The Talented Mr. Ripley. Tom, a single man, lives a hand-to-mouth existence in New York with a male roommate who is, ahem, a window dresser. Before that, he lived with an older man with some money and a controlling streak, a sugar daddy he contemptuously describes as “an old maid”; Tom still has the key to his apartment. Most of his social circle — the names he tosses around when introducing himself to Dickie — are gay men. The aunt who raised him, he bitterly recalls, once said of him, “Sissy! He’s a sissy from the ground up. Just like his father!” Tom, who compulsively rehearses his public interactions and just as compulsively relives his public humiliations, recalls a particularly stinging moment when he was shamed by a friend for a practiced line he liked to use repeatedly at parties: “I can’t make up my mind whether I like men or women, so I’m thinking of giving them both up.” It has “always been good for a laugh, the way he delivered it,” he thinks, while admitting to himself that “there was a lot of truth in it.” Fortunately, Tom has another go-to party trick. Still nurturing vague fantasies of becoming an actor, he knows how to delight a small room with a set of monologues he’s contrived. All of his signature characters are, by the way, women.

This was an extremely specific set of ornamentations for a male character in 1955, a time when homosexuality was beginning to show up with some frequency in novels but almost always as a central problem, menace, or tragedy rather than an incidental characteristic. And it culminates in a gruesome scene that Zaillian’s Ripley replicates to the last detail in the second of its eight episodes: The moment when Dickie, the louche playboy whose luxe permanent-vacation life in the Italian coastal town of Atrani with his girlfriend, Marge, has been infiltrated by Tom, discovers Tom alone in his bedroom, imitating him while dressed in his clothes. It is, in both Highsmith’s and Zaillian’s tellings, as mortifying for Tom as being caught in drag, because essentially it is drag but drag without exaggeration or wit, drag that is simply suffused with a desire either to become or to possess the object of one’s envy and adoration. It repulses Dickie, who takes it as a sexual threat and warns Tom, “I’m not queer,” then adds, lashingly, “Marge thinks you are.” In the novel, Tom reacts by going pale. He hotly denies it but not before feeling faint. “Nobody had ever said it outright to him,” Highsmith writes, “not in this way.” Not a single gay reader in the mid-1950s would have failed to recognize this as the dread of being found out, quickly disguised as the indignity of being misunderstood.

And it seemed to frighten Highsmith herself. In the second novel, Ripley Under Ground, published 15 years later, she backed away from her conception of Tom, leaping several years forward and turning him into a soigné country gentleman living a placid, idyllic life in France with an oblivious wife. None of the sequels approach the cold, challenging terror of the first novel — a challenge that has been met in different ways, each appropriate to their era, by the three filmmakers who have taken on The Talented Mr. Ripley. Zaillian’s ice-cold, diamond-hard Ripley just happens to be the first to deliver a full and uncompromising depiction of one of the most unnerving characters in American crime fiction.

The first Ripley adaptation, René Clément’s French-language drama Purple Noon, is much beloved for its sun-saturated atmosphere of endless indolence and for the tone of alienated ennui that anticipated much of the decade to come; the movie was also a showcase for its Ripley, the preposterously sexy, maddeningly aloof Alain Delon. And therein lies the problem: A Ripley who is preposterously sexy is not a Ripley who has ever had to deal with soul-deep humiliation, and a Ripley who is maddeningly aloof is not going to be able to worm his way into anyone’s life. Purple Noon is not especially willing (or able — it was released in 1960) to explore Ripley’s possible homosexuality. Though the movie itself suggests that no man or woman could fail to find him alluring, what we get with Delon is, in a way, a less complex character type, a gorgeous and magnetic smooth criminal who, as if even France had to succumb to the hoariest dictates of the Hollywood Production Code, gets the punishment due to him by the closing credits. It’s delectable daylit noir, but nothing unsettling lingers.

Anthony Minghella’s The Talented Mr. Ripley, released in 1999, is far better; it couldn’t be more different from the current Ripley, but it’s a legitimate reading that proves that Highsmith’s novel is complex and elastic enough to accommodate wildly varying interpretations. A committed Matt Damon makes a startlingly fine Tom Ripley, ingratiating and appealing but always just slightly inept or needy or wrong; Jude Law — peak Jude Law — is such an effortless golden boy that he manages the necessary task of making Damon’s Tom seem a bit dim and dull; and acting-era Gwyneth Paltrow is a spirited and touchingly vulnerable Marge.

Minghella grapples with Tom’s sexual orientation in an intelligently progressive-circa-1999 way; he assumes that Highsmith would have made Tom overtly gay if the culture of 1955 had allowed it, and he runs all the way with the idea. He gives us a Tom Ripley who is clearly, if not in love with Dickie, wildly destabilized by his attraction to him. And in a giant departure from the novel, he elevates a character Highsmith had barely developed, Peter Smith-Kingsley (played by Jack Davenport) into a major one, a man with whom we’re given to understand that Ripley, with two murders behind him and now embarking on a comfortable and well-funded European life, has fallen in love. It doesn’t end well for either of them. A heartsick Tom eventually kills Peter, too, rather than risk discovery — it’s his third murder, one more than in the novel — and we’re meant to take this as the tragedy of his life: That, having come into the one identity that could have made him truly happy (gay man), he will always have to subsume it to the identity he chose in order to get there (murderer). This is nowhere that Highsmith ever would have gone — and that’s fine, since all of these movies are not transcriptions but interpretations. It’s as if Minghella, wandering around inside the palace of the novel, decided to open doors Highsmith had left closed to see what might be behind them. The result is the most touching and sympathetic of Ripleys — and, as a result, far from the most frightening.

Zaillian is not especially interested in courting our sympathy. Working with the magnificent cinematographer Robert Elswit, who makes every black-and-white shot a stunning, tense, precise duel between light and shadow, he turns coastal Italy not into an azure utopia but into a daunting vertical maze, alternately paradise, purgatory, and inferno, in which Tom Ripley is forever struggling; no matter where he turns, he always seems to be at the bottom of yet another flight of stairs.

It’s part of the genius of this Ripley — and a measure of how deeply Zaillian has absorbed the book — that the biggest departures he makes from Highsmith somehow manage to bring his work closer to her scariest implications. There are a number of minor changes, but I want to talk about the big ones, the most striking of which is the aging of both Tom and Dickie. In the novel, they’re both clearly in their 20s — Tom is a young striver patching together an existence as a minor scam artist who steals mail and impersonates a collection agent, bilking guileless suckers out of just enough odd sums for him to get by, and Dickie is a rich man’s son whose father worries that he has extended his post-college jaunt to Europe well past its sowing-wild-oats expiration date. Those plot points all remain in place in the miniseries, but Andrew Scott, who plays Ripley, is 47, and Johnny Flynn, who plays Dickie, is 41; onscreen, they register, respectively, as about 40 and 35.

This changes everything we think we know about the characters from the first moments of episode one. As we watch Ripley in New York, dourly plying his miserable, penny-ante con from a tiny, barren shoe-box apartment that barely has room for a bed as wide as a prison cot (this is not a place to which Ripley has ever brought guests), we learn a lot: This Ripley is not a struggler but a loser. He’s been at this a very long time, and this is as far as he’s gotten. We can see, in an early scene set in a bank, that he’s wearily familiar with almost getting caught. If he ever had dreams, he probably buried them years earlier. And Dickie, as a golden boy, is pretty tarnished himself — he isn’t a wild young man but an already-past-his-prime disappointment, a dilettante living off of Daddy’s money while dabbling in painting (he’s not good at it) and stringing along a girlfriend who’s stuck on him but probably, in her heart, knows he isn’t likely to amount to much.

Making Tom older also allows Zaillian to mount a persuasive argument about his sexuality that hews closely to Highsmith’s vision (if not to her subsequent denial). If the Ripley of 1999 was gay, the Ripley of 2024 is something else: queer, in both the newest and the oldest senses of the word. Scott’s impeccable performance finds a thousand shades of moon-faced blankness in Ripley’s sociopathy, and Elswit’s endlessly inventive lighting of his minimal expressions, his small, ambivalent mouth and high, smooth forehead, often makes him look slightly uncanny, like a Daniel Clowes or Charles Burns drawing. Scott’s Ripley is a man who has to practice every vocal intonation, every smile or quizzical look, every interaction. If he ever had any sexual desire, he seems to have doused it long ago. “Is he queer? I don’t know,” Marge writes in a letter to Dickie (actually to Tom, now impersonating his murder victim). “I don’t think he’s normal enough to have any kind of sex life.” This, too, is from the novel, almost word for word, and Zaillian uses it as a north star. The Ripley he and Scott give us is indeed queer — he’s off, amiss, not quite right, and Marge knows it. (In the novel, she adds, “All right, he may not be queer [meaning gay]. He’s just a nothing, which is worse.”) Ripley’s possible asexuality — or more accurately, his revulsion at any kind of expressed sexuality — makes his killing of Dickie even more horrific because it robs us of lust as a possible explanation. This is the first adaptation of The Talented Mr. Ripley I’ve seen in which even Ripley may not know why he murders Dickie.

When I heard that Zaillian (who both wrote and directed all of the episodes) was working on a Ripley adaptation, I wondered if he might replace sexual identity, the great unequalizer of 1999, with economic inequity, a more of-the-moment choice. Minghella’s version played with the idea; every person and object and room and vista Damon’s Ripley encountered was so lush and beautiful and gleaming that it became, in some scenes, the story of a man driven mad by having his nose pressed up against the glass that separated him from a world of privilege (and from the people in that world who were openly contemptuous of his gaucheries). Zaillian doesn’t do that — a lucky thing, since the heavily Ripley-influenced film Saltburn played with those very tropes recently and effectively. Whether intentional or not, one side effect of his decision to shoot Ripley in black and white is that it slightly tamps down any temptation to turn Italy into an occasion for wealth porn and in turn to make Tom an eat-the-rich surrogate. This Italy looks gorgeous in its own way, but it’s also a world in which even the most beautiful treasures appear threatened by encroaching dampness or decay or rot. Zaillian gives us a Ripley who wants Dickie’s life of money and nice things and art (though what he’s thinking when he stares at all those Caravaggios is anybody’s guess). But he resists the temptation to make Dickie and Marge disdainful about Tom’s poverty, or mean to the servants, or anything that might make his killing more palatable. This Tom is not a class warrior any more than he’s a victim of the closet or anything else that would make him more explicable in contemporary terms. He’s his own thing — a universe of one.

Anyway, sexuality gives any Ripley adapter more to toy with than money does, and the way Zaillian uses it also plays effectively into another of his intuitive leaps — his decision to present Dickie’s friend and Tom’s instant nemesis Freddie Miles not as an obnoxious loudmouth pest (in Minghella’s movie, he was played superbly by a loutish Philip Seymour Hoffman) but as a frosty, sexually ambiguous, gender-fluid-before-it-was-a-term threat to Tom’s stability, excellently portrayed by Eliot Sumner (Sting’s kid), a nonbinary actor who brings perceptive to-the-manor-born disdain to Freddie’s interactions with Tom. They loathe each other on sight: Freddie instantly clocks Tom as a pathetic poser and possible closet case, and Tom, seeing in Freddie a man who seems to wear androgyny with entitlement and no self-consciousness, registers him as a danger, someone who can see too much, too clearly. This leads, of course, to murder and to a grisly flourish in the scene in which Tom, attempting to get rid of Freddie’s body, walks his upright corpse, his bloodied head hidden under a hat, along a street at night, pretending he’s holding up a drunken friend. When someone approaches, Tom, needing to make his possible alibi work, turns away, slamming his own body into Freddie’s up against a wall and kissing him passionately on the lips. That’s not in Highsmith’s novel, but I imagine it would have gotten at least a dry smile out of her; in Ripley’s eight hours, this necrophiliac interlude is Tom’s sole sexual interaction.

No adaptation of The Talented Mr. Ripley would work without a couple of macabre jokes like that, and Zaillian serves up some zesty ones, including an appearance by John Malkovich, the reigning king/queen of sexual ambiguity (and himself a past Ripley, in 2002’s Ripley’s Game), nodding to Tom’s future by playing a character who doesn’t show up until book two. He also gives us a witty final twist that suggests that Ripley may not even make it to that sequel, one that reminds us how fragile and easily upended his whole scheme has been. Because Ripley, in this conception, is no mastermind; Zaillian’s most daring and thoughtful move may have been the excision of the word “talented” from the title. In the course of the show, we see him toy with being an editor, a writer (all those letters!), a painter, an art appreciator, and a wealthy man, often convincingly — but always as an impersonation. He gives us a Tom who is fiercely determined but so drained of human affect when he’s not being watched that we come to realize that his only real skill is a knack for concentrating on one thing to the exclusion of everything else. What we watch him get away with may be the first thing in his life he’s really good at (and the last moment of the show suggests that really good may not be good enough). This is not a Tom with a brilliant plan but a Tom who just barely gets away with it, a Tom who can never relax.

Tom’s sexuality is ultimately an enigma that Zaillian chooses to leave unsolved — as it remains at the end of the novel. Highsmith’s decision to turn Tom into a roguish heterosexual with a taste for art fraud before the start of the second novel has never felt entirely persuasive, and it’s clearly a resolution in which Zaillian couldn’t be less interested. Toward the end of Ripley, Tom is asked by a detective to describe the kind of man Dickie was. He transforms Dickie’s suspicion about his queerness into a new narrative, telling the private investigator that Dickie was in love with him: “I told him I found him pathetic and that I wanted nothing more to do with him.” But it’s the crushing verdict he delivers just before that line that will stay with me, a moment in which Tom, almost in a reverie, might well be describing himself: “Everything about him was an act. He knew he was supremely untalented.” In the end, Scott and Zaillian give us a Ripley for an era in which evil is so often meted out by human automatons with even tempers and bland self-justification: He is methodical, ordinary, mild, and terrifying.'

#Andrew Scott #Ripley #Matt Damon #The Talented Mr Ripley #Anthony Minghella #Steven Zaillian #Purple Noon #Alain Delon #Johnny Flynn #Dickie Greenleaf #Peter Smith-Kingsley #Jude Law #Gwyneth Paltrow #Robert Elswit #Caravaggio #Marge Sherwood #Freddie Miles #Philip Seymour Hoffman #Eliot Sumner

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devilsrecreation · 4 months

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The Death of Piga

The view was gorgeous. Nothing like Kiburi had ever seen. The water shimmered in the sunlight, only adding to the luscious green trees and rolling hills. He closed his eyes as he felt the wind brush against his snout. He opened his eyes, grinning.

“Wow….”

“You like it?”

The hatchling looked up at the burly crocodile next to him. He was dark-skinned with jet-black eyes and was covered in battle scars, the most notable one being inches away from his left eye. His face remained unchanged since they both left Lake Matope. That was his father, alright. He always had the same sort of annoyed face. Kiburi didn’t really understand why he wasn’t impressed. But he didn’t care at the moment.

“How’d you even find this place?”

The older crocodile, Piga, gave a little smirk. “Your mother brought me here on our first date. Said it was her favorite place to swim. So, that’s what we did.” he sighed somberly. “She was so graceful in the water.”

Kiburi didn’t remember much about his mother due to how young he was when she passed, but what he did know was that his father always got lost in his own thoughts whenever he talked about her. As unreadable as his expression was, he seemed almost sad and he hated it. He nudged Piga’s leg with his snout.

“Hey, I thought we weren’t allowed to show emotion.” he half-joked. “Especially not during a fight.”

It was impossible for Piga not to smile at those words. Words his own father said to him which he had passed down to Kiburi. Only his son could cheer him up like that. He was a gifted boy for sure, unlike his other siblings. He could see right through him and manage to crack a grin on his face, no matter what. He gave Kiburi a single nod.

“Uh-huh. And you know why?”

“Cuz we’re crocodiles! We don’t let emotions get in the way!”

“That’s right.”

“And if we do, then we can’t do this!”

Kiburi lunged forward, biting a spot on his father’s tail. Piga lifted it, making Kiburi lose his grip. He let out an amused scoff.

“So, that’s how it’s going to be?” Piga playfully challenged as he stepped into the water. “Let’s see if you can give your old man a new battle scar.”

“Bring it on.”

Kiburi swung his tail at Piga, causing the older crocodile to let out a playful “oof!”. He retaliated with a snap of his jaws, barely missing the tip of his son’s tail. Kiburi pounced, clawing Piga’s jaw and standing over him. He chuckled smugly before glancing up at the shadow looming over them. His face fell.

Piga frowned upon seeing the younger crocodile become distracted. He rolled his eyes, getting up.

“What did I say about letting your guard down?”

Kiburi’s eyes locked with his father’s. “Sorry, I—it—there—uh-”

“Come on boy, spit it out.”

“Look.”

Piga turned around to see a ginormous bull hippo towering above him. A long scar ran diagonally across his snout, just below his beady red eyes. His long, grotesquely yellow teeth formed an evil, almost psychotic scowl. He snorted.

“What’re you doing here, crocodile?”

His voice was deep and raspy, enough to send a shiver down Kiburi’s spine. His father, however, kept his signature neutral expression.

“Kiburi,” Piga said without taking his eyes off of the hippo. “Stay behind me.”

Kiburi obeyed as his father continued,

“My son and I were spending time together. You want to make something of it?”

“I do.” the hippo replied. “Everyone knows this river is my territory.”

Piga scoffed, “No, it isn’t. You can’t own a river. Rivers are for every animal to drink in the Pridelands.”

“Of course you’d think that. Typical crocodiles. Always disobeying the rules.” the hippo chided.

“We crocodiles live by our own rules,” Piga said matter-of-factly. “And given yours is a stupid ‘rule’, we’re going to ignore it. Aren’t we, son?”

Kiburi smiled, stepping out from behind his father. “Yeah, it’s the crocodile way.”

“Now leave us alone, hippo-”

“The name’s Hatari.”

“Fine. Leave us, Hatari…before one of us gets hurt.”

Hatari got closer to Piga’s face, snorting. “You think I’m gonna let some reptile tell me what to do? You think you get to drive innocent animals out of their territory just because you’re a predator? You crocodiles make me sick. Nothing but big ugly brutes who threaten the circle of life.”

Kiburi stepped forward, glaring. “Hey, no we’re not!”

“Quiet, brat!”

“HEY.” It was Piga’s turn to get in Hatari’s face. “You watch your tone with my son, got it?”

“You crocodiles just love causing problems, don’t you?” Hatari sneered, ignoring the threat. “I’ll give you one more chance. Get. Out.”

“I told you, it’s a public place and we don’t intend to leave.” Piga said, curtly.

“And if you want us to, then you’re gonna have to make us!” Kiburi added.

Kiburi’s brave face quickly turned fearful as the scarred hippo lifted his foot, wearing an evil grin.

“Gladly.”

Kiburi gasped, causing Piga to lunge in front of him and clench his jaws around Hatari’s leg. The pachyderm roared in pain and slammed Piga to the ground in an attempt for him to let go. The crocodile immediately jumped back up, able to latch onto Hatari’s body. His grip unfortunately didn’t last long, as Hatari was able to throw him off with his snout.

Kiburi, who thankfully had rushed out of the water the second his father stepped in, just watched the fight from afar. His eyes focused on Piga as he snapped and clawed his psychotic opponent with all his might. He could count all the fighting techniques his father was using: There was the Tail Whip….and the Leg Chomp….and his father’s favorite, the Super Jump. Kiburi smiled as Piga clenched his jaws on Hatari’s left ear, tearing half of it off and causing another roar of pain from the hippo. That was one of Kiburi’s favorite things about him: his bravery. Bravery beyond what was expected of any crocodile, but that of a honey badger. However, that hippo seemed just as brave and strong as he was. But no, that wasn’t possible. No hippo was stronger than his dad.

Or was there?

Kiburi’s eyes were glued to his father, swimming around and diving to avoid Hatari’s snaps and stomps. Piga was no longer attacking as often, but focusing on his defense…at least that’s what Kiburi saw. It was difficult to tell from this distance and Hatari’s constant splashing, but it seemed as though the older crocodile was almost trying to escape; especially after he watched him being thrown from the tail.

“Come on, Dad,” Kiburi thought aloud, “you can take him.”

As soon as Piga had opened his eyes, he found himself being lifted in the air. He squirmed, only to feel a sharp force digging into his rough skin. He hissed in pain before finding himself thrown back into shallow water. He began to rise back up but was held down by Hatari’s foot. He grunted, locking eyes with Kiburi.

“Kiburi, get the rest of the float!” Piga ordered, struggling to move under the weight. “And make it quick!”

“No! I’m not leaving without you!” Kiburi shot back.

“Don’t worry about me, son! Just go!”

“But-”

“NOW!”

Kiburi nodded as he turned around and made his way back to Lake Matope as fast as he could. He was stopped short when he heard his father’s roar behind him. He glanced back to see Hatari crushing Piga’s back with his foot. His eyes widened.

“NO!”

Kiburi knew that was a bad idea the moment he said it. The hippo’s head shot up, causing him to frantically jump behind the first bush he saw. His heart racing, he stood perfectly still. He no longer knew what exactly was happening with his father nor did he want to. He didn’t dare sneak a peek out of fear that the monster would notice and go after him. A series of crocodile roars and hisses echoed through the air. First it was hissing, then a roar followed by a hard thud. Then another roar immediately after. The cycle kept repeating until it became a pattern. Hiss. Roar. Thud. Roar. Hiss. Roar. Thud. Roar. Hiss. Roar. Thud. Roar. It eventually became too much, as Kiburi squeezed his eyes shut hoping the noises would stop any minute. A roar louder than the previous ones snapped his eyes open.

Then silence.

Hatari held his head up high, scanning what was for sure his territory for any more intruders, particularly the small disgusting little crocodile that accompanied his opponent. The second he’d see that little brat, he would certainly teach him a lesson. Fortunately for him, it was nowhere to be found as far as he knew. Whatever. That thing was as good as dead anyway, so it was good riddance. He gave a single victorious nod and turned around, sinking into the water while mumbling something about how those crocs deserved it.

Kiburi peered his head out of the bush, checking to see if that hippo was still out there. Once he learned the coast was clear, he slowly stepped out.

“Dad?”

No answer.

Kiburi walked towards the river again, eyeing his surroundings.

“You okay, dad?…..Dad?”

Then he saw him. His father was lying motionless on the ground, his upper half on land and his lower half in the water. His body was oozing with blood thanks to several deep wounds caused by Hatari’s sharp teeth. All four of his legs were horribly bent, laying there uselessly. Kiburi gasped.

“Dad!”

Piga slightly lifted his head at the sound of his son’s voice. “Kiburi…”

“Your legs.” was all Kiburi could say at the moment.

“Yeah,” Piga gave half a nod. “that hippo busted me up pretty bad…”

“But you can get up, right?”

Piga sighed in defeat, “I don’t think so, kid…”

“We gotta go get Pua. He’ll know what to do.” Kiburi said, lowering his head down to one of his father’s front legs. “Here, I’ll help you!”

Kiburi then proceeded to grab Piga’s leg and pulled it as hard as he could, attempting to drag the older crocodile out of the water to no avail. Piga didn’t budge, instead looking down at the ground and closing his eyes for a moment.

“Forget it, son.”

Kiburi stopped. “What?”

“It’s no use.” Piga continued, taking in slow shaky breaths. “You’ll have to go on without me. Heh…didn’t think my journey would end so soon.”

Kiburi’s eyes widened. He knew full well what that meant. Granted, death was no stranger to him. He had experienced it as a toddler when his mother passed, then again with other crocodiles for various reasons. But this was different. He wasn’t as close to the others as he was to his father. He was more important than the rest.

He mattered.

“No…” Kiburi kept shaking his head. “No, don’t say that. You’re gonna be okay! You’ve been through worse, right? You’ll live just like you always said so!”

Piga frowned, “Not this time, kid.”

“No!” Kiburi repeated, feeling a lump form in his throat. “You’re gonna make it no matter what! You have to…”

“Kiburi, listen to me.” Piga started, “I know I’ve been tough on you and your siblings, but that was only because I love you. I wanted to push you to be the best version of yourselves, I hope you realize that—Don’t you dare start crying. It won’t do you any good. You gotta be strong, especially in front of your siblings. You’re the oldest, after all. You need to watch over ‘em, you got that?”

Kiburi did his best to keep a brave face, yet his eyes still began to tear up. “Dad, I…I don’t know what I’m gonna do without you.” he bewailed.

Piga gave a weak smile. “You’ll manage. You’re very smart for your age, son. It’s one of the things that makes you better than all the other hatchlings.”

Kiburi smiled tearfully as Piga went on.

“You’ve got so much potential, you just have to live up to it. You keep making me proud, okay?”

“I will, dad.” Kiburi nodded, “I’ll be the best and the strongest and the bravest crocodile in the Pridelands! Just you wait!”

“That’s my boy.”

Piga finally let his head rest on the ground, his eyes closing and his warm, but weak smile fading away. His injuries had finally caught up with him. If it wasn’t the many broken bones in his body preventing him from moving, it was the massive blood loss he had sustained. This was it. He had completed his journey in the Circle of Life.

Kiburi could do nothing but stare at his now deceased paternal figure. The entire ordeal felt like a bad dream, yet it was all too real. The scarred, once a hardcore and stone faced warrior of a reptile was gone. The crocodile whom he respected more than the current leader, Pua. The crocodile whom he cared about the most. His father—his hero was no longer a part of his life. He felt his eyes getting misty again, but quickly blinked. There was no way he would cry in front of his father, not even in death. He had to be brave. He walked up and gently lay his neck over Piga’s head.

“I’ll make you proud. dad. I promise.”

The walk back to Lake Matope seemed much less cheerful alone. Kiburi didn’t even pay attention to the life surrounding him. He no longer cared. He just wanted to go home without anyone to bother him. It wasn’t until a familiar voice snapped him out of his trance-like state.

“Hey, Kiburi! You’re back!”

It was his little sister, Ucheshi. A sweet, light green crocodile with aquamarine eyes whom Kiburi cared about more than anything. Oh heavens, he didn’t even want to think about her reaction to the news. She most likely wouldn’t get over it for years.

“How was your trip? Did you have fun?”

Other young crocodiles in his float followed his sister.

“Where’d you go again?”

“What did you see?”

“What’d you do?”

Kiburi’s best friend, Makuu, grew a concerned look. “Kiburi, are you okay?”

Kiburi could only shake his head in reply, followed by an “mm-mm”.

“That’s enough, kids.”

Pua moved forward in between the little crowd forming around Kiburi. The other crocodiles obediently stepped aside to let their leader through.

“Come now, give him some air.” he turned to Kiburi. “Now Kiburi, tell everyone about your trip to Jua River.”

Kiburi merely looked down. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“What do you mean ‘you don’t want to talk about it’? You seemed so excited when your dad invited you to go.”

The word “dad” only made Kiburi shut his eyes, unable to look at anyone right now. Though he was not the only one with a reaction to the word. Makuu had immediately started looking around. After a moment, he finally spoke,

“Hey….where is your dad?”

Ucheshi perked up, “He-he’s not here?”

“He’s comin’ back with ya, right?” Tamka asked.

“Yeah, is he okay?” Nduli added.

“Kiburi…” Pua said softly, causing Kiburi to look up at his leader, “Where’s your father?”

That did it. Kiburi’s lip formed a deep frown, his legs starting to shake. Tears started to trickle down as a sob escaped from his lips. Before he knew it, he was nuzzled into Pua’s neck as all he could do was weep.

The End

#ABOUT FREAKING TIME ME #took way longer than I expected #evil laughter #told ya it was gonna be angsty #up next (possibly): kenge’s backstory #fanfic #writing #the lion guard

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seas-storyarchive · 2 months

Text

Daddy's Little Angel - au

Note: More saint Alastor propoganda.

[[MORE]]

Alastor was a saint in heaven. He was a son to a loving mother who was also up there. Frequent pisser off of Adam and Lute.

And, he was a father. How? Well, he pulled a page out of God's book and removed a rib to create a child. A daughter. His daughter.

His mother was happy. Adam and Lute were appalled. Sera was actually pissed off.

But, Alastor ignored them. He was complete, he had his mother and his daughter. His Emily.

As Emily got older, Sera came to Alastor with a deal: she would mentor Emily to be a Serraphim, but he would take a job going down to hell and monitoring the population.

Look.. Alastor didn't necessarily want to. But he did so, because Sera implied harm wouldn't befall his mother and daughter if he did - but look, she was under the impression that it would (Hell's rising numbers and all that). And, when he went down, he was forgotten above.

His wings were stripped from his body, his powers locked behind a collar and chain, arms from the elbow down and legs from the knee down were mutated to be that of a deer. Antlers were forcibly grown from his head and he was given a tail.

And, to make the counting easier, Alastor started making deals - keeping names in a book. He had to, at this point.

He had to keep it a secret, from his friends he made in hell - overlord Rosie, and the royals of hell themselves. What would they say if they found out? What would they do if they learned the truth?

And then, the most recent extermination happened. He got his tail handed to him when he tried to square up against Adam. Rosie treating his wounds dutifully afterwards. A strange feeling of bliss was around them.

This, for the first time, was almost heaven. Him, Rosie and her little apartment. All he was missing was his little Emily. And the truth..

Well, skipping ahead to a reunion day. It got pushed ahead quickly, because Alastor played some heavenly behind the scenes bs to get his way. Sera actually let him have it. Was it out of guilt? Who's to say.

The group from heaven was in the lawn, teleported there because Sera used Alastor's power signature to make sure they got there safely. Sera (shrinking her form to a tall woman a bit shorter than Alastor's height), Emily, Pentious, and a few extra visitors were with them.

"Emily! Pentious!" Charlie hugged the younger Serraphim and snake when she rushed outside to greet them.

"Charlie!" Emily hugged her friend.

"Hello Charlie, my friend! It'sssss ssso good to be home!" Pentious said, tears in his eyes.

"Everyone is so excited! Come in, come in!" She let go of Emily to lead the group in.

Angel was hugged by his mother and sister - Arc wasn't there, he had a prior engagement.

Husk was hugging a slightly taller cat.

Pentious was talking to Cherri, after she punched him in greeting and they made out while crying.

Niffty made a beeline for an angel in their little group, climbing up her dress and hugging her around the neck. "Hi Alastor's mom!" She suddenly turned to Emily, her arms still around the taller angel, and smiled. "Oh!! He's gonna be over the hotel seeing you!"

"Who?" Emily tilted her head.

Everyone was confused too. Sure, it was easy to figure out the deer angel was Alastor's mother.. but why would he be excited to see Emily?

A record scratching broke their silence. They turned to see Alastor, his hair in curls of all things, a heartbroken look on his face. He looked at Sera, with.. betrayal? Recognition?

"What da fuq is going on!?" Angel broke the silence, breaking apart from his mother and sister.

"I think.. this will help speed this along." Sera said, waving her hand in front of a confused Emily's face.

The little Serraphim started to cry, her breathing hitched, looking from Sera to Alastor.

"Dad! Daddy!" She suddenly catapulted herself at the demon, knocking him off his feet.

"Oh! Oh, my little cherub!" Alastor hugged the crying angel, tears falling down his face as well.

"I- I remember now." Alastor's mother passed Niffty off to Charlie before decking Sera in the face. "Come near my son and grandbaby again, and I'll do more than give a punch as a warning!" She turned to Alastor. "And YOU! What in the name of your sainthood were you thinkin'!"

"Grand... hold up!" Vaggie looked around. "What in the name of all that is holy and unholy is going on!?"

"I'll.. answer that." Alastor said, still on the floor with Emily in his arms. He sighed. "I.. I'm a saint n heaven, I became one after killing abusers in the 1930s, and giving money and trinkets to the victims of those horrible people. In doing so, as well as them providing testimony once I reached heaven, I was given sainthood."

"Which reminds me." Sera rose from the floor, wiping her face of the blood from her lip. She summoned a contract and ripped it in half.

The affects were instant - Alastor's gray skin became caramel in color, two sets of wings (white outsides, the insides were pinkish gray) ripped from his back, and he had a little halo above his antlers.

"Sadly, there was nothing I could do about your antlers, ears, tail, arms or legs, as you still reside down here to help with this hotel." Sera said, looking sad.

"Tail?! What! Lemme see!" Angel cut in.

Ignoring Angel. "I that why Maman is a deer?" oh, the anger - spicy.

"Boy, calm down." His mother said, smiling. "I don't mind it, really."

Alastor nodded to his mother, before looking to Emily. "Come darling, up we go." They stood, Alastor leaning on his cane because having his wings after so long was a challenge.

"So, what were you doin' down here, Smiles?" Angel asked.

"Well.. Sera implied that if I didn't come down here and keep tabs on he population of hell - keeping me blind to the exterminations until I actually cane down here - something would happen to Maman and my little cherub." Alastor said, giving Sera a glare with his ears lowered.

"Using the safety of family.. are you sure heaven is all that holy of a place?" Husk asked.

"Adam was an insufferable piece of sheep excrement, but aside from him.. heaven is similar to the more, um, "kind" parts of hell." Alastor used air quotes.

"Like Cannibal Town?" Charlie asked.

Alastor nodded, before his ears went down. "Oh, oh no."

"What?" Vaggie looked from Alastor to Charlie, who gained a look of realization.

"You didn't tell Rosie that she's a stepmother!?" Charlie blurted out.

"No I didn't tell her anything!" Alastor shot back. "And we AREN'T together!"

"Who's Rosie?" Angel's mother asked.

"Antlers has a lady friend?" Lucifer grinned.

"Ṋ̵͐̅ȏ̸ͅ!̴̱̀͋" Alastor shot back at the king.

"I have a mother!?" Emily was excited, to Alastor's horror. "Where is she? I wanna met her!"

"W- well, um.." Alastor was stuttering, looking over Emily to begin glaring at Charlie.

Charlie just grinned at him, feeling no remorse.

"You met a girl? All this time I thought you were homosexual!"

"Mother!" The horror intensified.

"What? You and that Saint Peter boy-"

"He is my angel brother in arms, Mother! Of course we are close!"

Vaggie's high pitched laughter cut in, she was on the floor, crying.

"Oh, I have some stories to write!"

"Niffty, if you put me in any more of your little horror tales, I'll burn all of your writing journals and MAKE you clean the ashes!" Alastor promised. "The ones with me and that-" he pointed to Lucifer, "made me pour bleach on myself and set myself alight!"

"And yet you didn't touch the ones with you and Rosie~" Niffty sang.

"Go search for roaches! Stop corrupting your sister!" Alastor used the Dad Tone and named Niffty as his daughter. Oh, the magic of the two for one special.

"Dad, I'm your daughter. I never had much hope." Emily used Alastor's sass against him.

".." Which stumped the man.

"Emily, no!" Charlie laughed, before she looked to her father. "Dad!"

"Say kid, how'd you like to call me Grandpa Lucifer?" Lucifer put an arm around Emily's shoulders.

Emily removed his arm and brushed the brimestone off of her shoulders, but she already had so much on her it didn't matter, promising, "hit on my grandmother and I'll show you the first weapon my dad showed me how to use."

"Oh my god, kid yes!" Angel encouraged from his place outside the chaos, he and Molly now recording this, as Lucifer backed away.

"Why did I agree to this?" Sera asked with a groan.

"I concur." Alastor said, pinching his nose.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel au #saint alastor verse au #saint alastor #daddys little angel au #alastor has a kid in heaven

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night-fall-moon · 2 months

Text

Chapter 1: Remit to see, limit to see—Remind

previous chapter masterlist next chapter

"Mornin boys, I'll be your escort today." Reina saluted them as they walked out the front door.

She wore a white button up blouse, leaving the first few unbuttoned to show off a good chunk of her cleavage. A coffee colored skirt that hugged her thighs, and her signature 3'' heels. She decided to forego the white coat with something more fashionable—a long beige coat that covered most of her from head to toe. Her hair tied up in a high ponytail.

Shirazu greeted her with a big smile and started to chat with her, but Urie on the other hand wasn't amused. In fact he was annoyed, but at least she was better than their other useless mentor—Haise Sasaki.

He rolled his eyes and walked away from both of them.

"Sorry to interrupt, 'razu, but Urie's leaving without us." She motioned with her thumb that he was at least a good foot away from them.

Quickly apologizing, the blonde boy scurried to catch up to the other boy and whined about how heartless he was for leaving without them. The purple haired boy remained quiet and didn't say a word and instead just kept walking.

Walking behind them she admired the scene in front of her, reminding her of the good times she had with her older sister before they started drifting apart. A small smile was etched on her face.

As they arrived at the warehouse the trio was met with an investigator.

"Aki—I mean Investigator Mado! I came to escort the boys to get their back up quinques." She bowed.

"Investigator Nakou, good to see that you're cleaning up your act. Good to see you too, investigators Urie and Shirazu." She nodded their way.

"Hey, I don't like what you're implying, Mado!" The lilac haired woman argued but sighed in defeat knowing it was true.

During the past few days she's been stepping up and acting more like a mentor than before. But she had yet to drop the facade she'd put up since she entered the CCG as mentioned after Akira spoke to her directly—though she had reason as to why she wanted to sell herself as the dumb-good-for-nothing-bimbo.

"Any progress with the case?" Mado ignored the whining woman and proceeded to converse with the two boys.

Shirazu beamed at the acknowledgement meanwhile Urie just answered her question—annoyed by all the small talk getting in the way of what they were originally came here for.

"A plain Tsunagi." Akira motioned as they were handed their quinque.

"That's so boring." Reina nagged.

"They're backups, and they're still as good as your own quinque."

"You mean Widow? My baby glides through everything so smoothly, I doubt these can be as good as Widow. Can't wait till you both get your own!" She turned to the boys and patted them on their shoulders.

"You two, don't neglect your quinques just because you can use a kagune. The quinque is an anti-ghoul weapon developed by former general chairman Yoshiu Washu—the father of General Chairman Tsuneyoshi Washu, in partnership with the German Bureau Chief Adam Gehenna." Akira went on,

"The CCG engaged ghouls with firearms back then but were ineffective against a ghouls' kagune. Research into an alternative weapon gave birth to the idea of using their own kagune against them—manufactured weapons based on a kagune. Quinques.”

Reina shifted from side to side seemingly uninterested with the topic at hand. She ended up zoning out in between the woman's history lesson on how they came to be.

"A soldier with a built-in quinque, if you will. That is what you Quinxes are. But, even with that ability—you are not ghouls. There are limits to a Quinx's ability." Akira turned to face them all,

"You've never seen Sasaki fight at his best, have you?" She asked.

Both males shook their heads at the higher up, meanwhile Reina just smirked at her question.

"No. But he uses a quinque very skillfully. There's much I can learn from him." Urie reluctantly complimented his useless mentor.

"Well if you both want to know, he's an interesting fighter. He uses techniques he's learned from the CCG until-"

"I think that's enough of that." Akria gave her a pointed look, meaning she's crossing a line that shouldn't be crossed.

"I didn't say anything." Reina giggled and surrendered.

The boys just looked confused as to what was going on between both their mentors. Urie though understood that Reina held a lot more information than she led on. Just how much did she know about Haise Sasaki?

Turning back to the boys, Akira told them to always use their quinques and bid them goodbye.

"Let's get going. I know you both want to go find Torso—and I know you both have a lead on him." She crossed her arms across her chest.

Her face was uninterested as she told them. Immediately Shirazu tried to deny her claim, but quickly came to find out that he was a horrible liar. She could clearly see through him and it didn't help that Urie's usual poker face was falling apart. Veins littering his forehead indicating he was upset at being caught. How foolish could he be thinking that he could get away with such information.

"So you mind telling me your lead or should I tell Haise about this little scheme you have?"

"I think you might wanna speed up if we wanna catch up with them!" Reina yelled, gripping on to Urie's waist so as to not fall off Shirazu's motorcycle.

The three of them piled onto the vehicle, while both boys wore protective gear in case of an accident, Reina wore none at all seeing as she was not involved in the original plan to capture and eradicate Torso. Urie inevitably squished between the blonde boy and lilac haired girl.

"Karao Saeki!" Shirazu yelled.

Behind him Urie urged the same message realizing that they had no chance unless they did so. The blonde concerned about breaking the law hesitated to do so until both of them yelled at him to hurry up. The cab in front of them waved side to side in an attempt to avoid oncoming traffic.

Quickly Urie realized they could have an advantage if a certain person had the capability to do so.

"Take out the tires with your kagune!"

"Are you serious?!"

Looking behind him he saw that the purple haired boy was serious about his idea. Groaning at the plan he did so but warned him that if he missed they weren't to blame him

Swiftly pushing on the gas pedal the blonde released his ukaku. It branched out, spikes formed threatening to detach themselves from their place. Attempting his best at aiming at the cab he released three missiles continuously all imploding as they missed the cab.

Groaning at his incompetence, Urie jabbed at his horrible aim, but Shirazu just threatened to knock him off the bike.

"Could you both shut up and concentrate on the task at hand?!" The forgotten girl scolded the arguing duo.

At this point they were noticed by the cops and were told to pull over. Taking this as an opportunity to alert the cops of the upcoming danger Reina looked behind her and motioned her hand in an upward direction. As if getting the memo immediately the cop car sacrificed itself and pulled up by the cab attempting to tell them to pull over .

But in doing so—Torso—ripped their faces off with his kagune and flung them through the window to dispose of them. With no driver to maneuver the vehicle around it slammed into the wall of the tunnel they drove into. Just as Torso thought he had escaped law enforcement officials, the end of the tunnel was blocked off with a few barricades and cop cars surrounding them.

The cab came to a stop and the drivers door opened revealing a thin, half-naked man with his shirt wrapped around his face in an attempt to keep his identity anonymous. Hopping off the bike they all assumed a stance, not even a few seconds later Torso released his kagune and struck at the trio.

Unsurprised they dodged his attack and moved aside letting the expensive bike take the hit. Regaining his composure quickly, Shirazu released his ukaku and launched his projectiles towards the "masked" man. Shocked, the man was glued to the ground which left him to be the perfect target for the Quinxes onslaught.

They made quick work of him until a new obstacle made themself known to the trio. A masked person in a coat walked out of the shadows, their kagune ready to strike at anyone that gets in their way.

"I'm sorry but that scrawny half-naked guy is ours. You guys are Quinxes right? You use a kagune, right? You Doves make me downright sick. You're no different from Aogiri." The clearly distorted voice echoed throughout their ears.

A sense of familiarity struck the girl. That bikaku, that tone of voice—she swore she heard it from somewhere.

"And now that you've made me sick... I wanna have some." He snapped his head up eyes piercing through the mask,

"Nish-" Reina was interrupted with a strike thrown her way. She backed up and instinctively hid behind the abandoned cars.

Decidedly done with her he switched opponents, Torso long gone from the battlefield. Rate: S Orochi was now the main target. He dashed past the girl and swung his leg into Urie's gut—sending him flying into the wall of the ditch. The boy coughed up blood from the sheer force of the kick to his abdomen.

"Sorry, but I don't hold back against Doves. You'll get in my way one of these days. Better to nip you guys in the bud when I can." He sneered as he neared the bloodied up boy. Behind him Shirazu snuck up behind him and released a few missiles his way thinking they'd absolutely obliterate the masked man.

"What was that? A pea-shooter?" He mocked the blonde boy as he simply dodged them.

Both boys quickly got fed up with all his taunting. Wanting to get this over with, they came at him with all they've got. They swung their kagune and attempted to strike him, but all that came was more frustration. They jumped and leapt from place to place destroying more and more of their surroundings.

He kicked Urie down to the ground, his kokaku shattered and destroyed. He sat down on top of the destroyed cars and looked down at the furious boy, mocking him.

"That's it? For a kokaku? All it took was a kick? Guess it's an imitation after all." He chuckled.

The sound of footsteps could be heard growing louder and louder as they neared—Shirazu. He quickly took a stance and swiped at him releasing his missiles a dust cloud quickly forming not allowing them to see the extent of how much damage the blondes kagune actually did to the ghoul.

Once it cleared away he was left unscathed. Realizing they didn't have a chance to exterminate the Rate: S Ghoul Shirazu opted to retreat until backup came, not wanting to risk his life for something he knew they couldn't handle yet. Angry at his words Urie didn't relent, but instead tried to push forward. His method of keeping alive—self cannibalism.

He dug his teeth into the flesh of his forearm, the sound of squelching and the aroma of blood overwhelmed his senses. Reina looked his way, the smell of blood enticing her to take a bite of him. She shook her head and walked towards them.

"Hey four eyes! Seeing as they're useless, how about we have a match of our own?" She yelled out, a smirk creeping up her lips.

The ghoul turned around and looked at her,

"What's a bimbo like you doing in the CCG?"

"Still judging others based on their looks, Nishi? How about I remind you how strong me and my sister were when we kicked your ass."

She released her rinkaku, purple like tentacles reached out in front of her and in the blink of an eye they cleanly cut his hand off. She sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose.

"Shit, I'm getting rusty. I meant to go for your whole arm. Luckily I got the other one though." She mumbled as she waved it around in her hand.

Her squad looked at her in awe and fear, the sheer speed and talent to distract someone was a talent to have at this point. They looked back at his figure and noticed that he was regenerating at a quick pace. His thick bikaku swayed back and forth before it readied to strike her until a quinque split it in half. She dissolved her kagune and watched the back up she called come to their aid.

"Sasan!!"

"Sir!"

"Who the hell are you? The king of the imitators?"

"Mutsuki, contact Investigator Mado.”

The man didn't respond to his taunting voice and instead went to attack the ghoul without a second thought. He uttered a word in between every attack and dedicated each attack with his heart—thinking about his squad with each swing of his sword. The Rate S ghoul eventually caught up to his attacks and gave him a taste of what he was like.

The ghoul muscled him in the gut like when he did so with Urie a few moments ago. Haise doubled over and screamed in pain, his quinque out of reach, probably somewhere behind him. He stayed there for a while until he rose to his feet, raising his right hand—he cracked his pointer finger, the same crack released his kagune.

In an instant Haise's demeanor changed. No longer was he the looked down upon investigator, but rather a strong, intimidating man. Just as the ghoul tried to attack Haise, he moved out the way like this wasn't the first time he engaged in a fight with a high rated ghoul. This was the first time the squad saw their mentor use his kagune at all.

He skillfully jumped and leapt away whilst keeping up with his attacks against the masked ghoul. Within a few seconds Haise had shattered the ghoul's kagune, and though it regenerated almost instantly, it was still a major feat for them.

"You're— tough." Haise gritted through his teeth just as Orochi approached him face to face,

"Well, thank you." He kicked Haise in the gut just like before, but this time Haise regained his composure in an instant and his kagune reached out to grab his quinque and it settled in the palm of his hands.

The squad noticed that he was depleting in stamina, his dodging time slowing down to the point where he was dodging the attacks just in the nick of time. When Orochi struck him again he fell to the floor, immediately coming to his aid the squad reached out for him but he put his arm out.

"Stay back-"

"We can still fight!"

"We're not just gonna stand here and watch-" they protested, but all Haise did was look back and grin at them.

"That's an order. Reina, help me would ya?" He motioned.

Grinning from ear to ear she slid her coat off her back and let it fall to the floor. She released her kagune, long, thick, deep purple tentacles following behind her as Haise stretched before going back to attack the Rate S ghoul.

"You definitely intrigue me more than those punks." The masked ghoul hummed.

Haise chuckled, "I'm not sure if I should be honored. But I don't think you want to get to know... me." He cracked his knuckle and attacked him without a warning.

Haise showed no mercy, his actions were a lot more fluid and natural, his instincts told him what was right and what was wrong. When Orochi leapt away from Haise's attack, Reina formed her kagune into thin, razor sharp arms and pinned him into place... like a spider with their prey. They pierced through his skin, his shoulders and hips; the areas bled profusely.

This gave Haise the perfect opportunity to pierce Orochi's abdomen like before. Haise didn't have any reaction, he just looked concentrated as his hand contorted as if it was the one controlling his every move. That was until his second tentacle pierced through another part of his torso. Haise began grinning from ear to ear as he continued his onslaught of torturing the ghoul. Painful groans along with squelching noises could be heard from the pinned body.

"Just returning the favor.." he smiled manically, clearly enjoying this little show of theirs.

Removing his kagune from the ghoul's abdomen Reina shoved and grated the masked ghoul into the wall of the tunnel. When she let go he dropped to the floor like a rag doll incapable of moving himself around.

Pushing themselves off their kagune they reached the now unmasked ghoul. The girl picked up the mask and hid it behind her, meanwhile the boy straddled him and looked like he was going to give him the easy way out.

"'I'm dying I'm dying...' is that how it goes?" He coughed out as he laid on the street

The duo paid no attention to his words.

"Oh buddy, guess you still haven't found salvation, huh... Kaneki." He revealed his face from underneath the hood he had on.

That familiar face... orange hair..

"...nishio..?" Haise slipped out.

Haise lost his mind. Memories distorted, blank faces haunting him, mouths moving but no sound coming from them. The only sound he could hear was his name ringing in his mind... Kaneki.

"Guess playtime's over Nishio, take care." She said as she tossed him his mask.

Walking over to Haise she hugged him, her kagune shattering his. She held him as he thrashed around her hold, her grip never letting loose. His nails dug into her skin drawing blood from the scratches, his screams and wails echoed throughout everyone's ears. The pain he inflicted onto her was nothing compared to his.

Memories of her hugging her restrained sister filled her head. She called out her fathers name, her name, she seeked comfort from those she trusted. Haise in return had no one to tell him to cry it out, to let him feel. No one but himself, and not having anyone to remember them by was a greater pain none of them would ever understand.

She took his hits, his scratches, until they ceased into small cries. The RC bullet put him to rest for a while. They both collapsed onto the floor as he muttered his name, Haise Sasaki, over and over again. Looking down at him, Reina brushed his hair aside in a comforting manner hoping he'd find comfort in it as it was the only thing she could do at the moment with all eyes on them.

Although he still clawed at her, the pain was much more manageable. She ran thimble fingers throughout his full head of hair and nodded at his words. "You're you," she caressed his face with her free hand, wiping his free flowing tears. She noticed her subordinates looking at them... fear... jealousy... and awe was clear on their faces. She felt his hand grasp her wrist, she looked down. He looked into her eyes and was about to speak up—almost expecting his words she reassured him,

"You didn't kill anyone, don't worry. We're all safe. Get some rest now, Haise."

And with those words of reassurance he closed his weary eyes. A deep slumber falling upon him. Sighing in relief Reina picked the man up with ease and carried him into one of the cars their back up came with. Closing the car door she went to pick up her discarded coat on the floor and threw it over herself.

"We're riding elsewhere, I'm driving."

"Will Sasan be okay?" They mumbled out.

"Of course he will. He always bounces back." She smiled back at them before she entered the escorted car.

wc: 3.3k previous chapter masterlist next chapter

a/n: god i hate myself for cross posting this on so many platforms because of formatting. Next chapter will be the last one for the month. March i will post the next three chapters!

ps. i don’t care if you’re a minor or not, I know y’all are still gonna read. I’m not your guardian, that’s up to them. I’m not responsible for anything.

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herroyalhighnessqueenmomo · 2 years

Text

Faded Memories (Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader) |Part 2|

Warnings: I do not own the song that is used here. Also swearing and angst up ahead.

Nancy was at your parent’s house. She came over to comfort you after you had called crying once you hung up with Eddie telling her you were second. She supportively told you that it didn’t matter how Eddie saw you, that you were still number one. To her you were her number one. It warmed up your heart a bit but it wasn’t the same. Nancy sighed as she sat at your desk and did a double take at the journal that laid open to the page where your song was. She grabbed the journal and began reading the lyrics. “What’s this?” She asked you. You simply shrugged. “Just something stupid I was working on. It was gonna be a song but I don’t think its any good.” You had explained. Nancy finished reading and looked up at you. “Y/N this is beautiful. You have to sing this to Eddie.” She stated.

You shook your head quickly. “No, Nope. Absolutely not.” You got up and grabbed the journal from her hands. “Why not? You always struggled to figure out how to tell him how you feel. This song is perfect.” Nancy stated her case. You shook your head again. “I already told you that I’m not telling him how I feel. It’s pointless, he doesn’t feel that way about me. Its a for sure rejection.” She huffed. “It is not a for sure rejecti-” “Nancy he basically told me I am second best right after his bitchy fiancée. Even if he didn’t reject me I’m always going to think of myself as his second choice. I can’t do that.” You said. “Well at least do it to get it off your chest. I’m sure its weighing on you a lot.” You didn’t say anything because she was right. It was like the weight of the world was on you. Which might have been fitting since Eddie pretty much was your world. “See? You know I’m right.”

The two of you dropped the conversation and just talked the way the two of you usually did. You’d talk about everything under the sun.

******************************************************

The weekend hit and it was time for Eddie’s bachelor party. Something about the event made you nervous. You wore your old Hellfire club t-shirt and a black suspender skirt with your signature combat boots. You drove over to the Hideout. You made sure to arrive at least 20 minutes later than the planned time. You generally were a punctual person but this was your attempt to try and appear casual about the whole event. Once you walked in you saw the Hellfire club members and Steve sitting at a table. The older members were drinking while the younger ones being Lucas, Mike, Dustin, and Will just chatted alcohol influence free. “Well if it isn’t my favorite girl. I was starting to think you weren't coming.” Eddie got up and walked towards you. His favorite girl? Just the other day he said you were his second favorite. You ignored his slip up. He is obviously not himself. He gave you a huge bear hug and then kissed the top of your head. “Munson, are you already drunk?” You asked him. He scoffed. “No I can handle my liquor better than that babycakes.” Well that was a new nickname. “But I am definitely high.” He then busted out into a fit of giggles. You rolled your eyes with a smile on your face.

Eddie led you to the table and as he pulled out his seat for you, your eyes landed on a tattoo on his arm you hadn't noticed before. "Eds, is that a new tattoo?" You asked as you took your seat. He sat down beside you and then you pointed at it. He looked down at it. "Oh. Yeah. Kendra said this the other day, kinda loved it so much I tattooed it." You took a moment to read it. Honesty plus love will get you through most situations. It was not an outlandish quote. In fact, it was mediocre at best. Definitely wasn't worth tattooing.

You tried your best to give a fake smile. "Wow, that's so...different." You said. "Yeah. After Kendra said it I just wanted that reminder from her always with me." He said.

"Sounds like she has you pretty whipped." Gareth stated causing you to snort and the guys to laugh also. "Say what you want but as far as I'm concerned, I'm the only here who is actually getting some." He stated with a level of smugness that at any other time you would find insanely attractive but this time you fought so hard not to roll your eyes. You instead scoffed. "Yeah sure, that you know of." You said as you got up and walked towards the bar. You don't even know why you said it. You were pretty sure he was. You just wanted to say something that would wipe that smug smirk off his face. The guys all stared at you as you left. You hadn't paid any attention.

"The hell does that mean?"Eddie asked as he thought out loud. The guys shrugged. "Seems like Y/N is implying that she's getting some too." Jeff said taking a sip of his drink. Eddie almost laughed. "Absolutely not. Nope."

Steve got a little annoyed by Eddie's attitude. "What? You don't think she could get any?" He asked. Eddie looked at him. "No, because if she did she would have told me." He said with a matter of fact tone. "What makes you think she'd tell you?" Steve asked. "We tell each other everything." Eddie replied. He took a swig of his drink. Something about this whole conversation just bothered Steve though. Maybe it was the way Eddie seemed too sure of himself or the way he dismissed the thought too quickly. "Well obviously not everything because she told me." Steve blurted out. Eddie damn near broke his neck by how fast he turned to look at Steve. "Bullshit."

"I'm serious." "With who?" Eddie asked. He couldn't believe it. Steve shrugged. "I don't remember, she said it was some guy she met at the library." He bullshitted. "The library?" Eddie asked. "Uh yeah...something about them reading the same book and he asked her out to dinner." Suddenly Steve mastered the element of bullshitting and Eddie was really starting to believe him. "Why the hell didn't she tell me? I would've been happy for her." Eddie was frustrated beyond belief. In fact he was borderline pissed. Why? He wasn't even sure. "Uh...buddy you've been busy planning a wedding and practically neglecting her." Steve said. "Neglecting her? Did she tell you that?" He asked. He hated the mere implication. Steve shook his head. "She didn't have to tell me that. I can see it, I have eyes Munson."

Eddie was really getting worked up by this. He stood up. "I'm going out for a smoke." He said and walked out it seemed almost too obvious that he was livid. "What just happened?" Dustin asked. No response from anyone.

By the time Eddie got out the door you had made it back from the bar with a glass in each hand. "Where'd Eddie go?" You asked as you went to sit down. "Apparently to go smoke." Steve replied. You gasped in general annoyance. "Are you shitting me? I have been working so hard to try and get him to quit smoking cigarettes." Steve went to grab the second drink that you had. You slapped his hand. "Excuse me, these are both for me." You said. Steve looked at you with some shock. "You got two glasses of screwdrivers for yourself?" He asked. You nodded. "I am trying to catch up to you guys. Plus I told the bar tender to give me another two once I am done with these." You replied and took a deep sip of your first glass. You moaned out with satisfaction. "God damn that's good. I needed this." You looked up to see the guys all staring at you. "Is there something on my face?" You asked placing a hand over your mouth.

"Didn't realize you liked drinking that much." Dustin said breaking the silence. You shrugged. "More like every once in a while I need to indulge. This is one of those times." You said taking another sip. "So Y/N, Steve was telling us that you're seeing someone-"Will began trying to make conversation. You spit out your drink and looked at Steve with wide eyes. Steve looked away from your gaze. He cleared his throat. "Uh yeah, sorry Y/N. Just kinda slipped up. Didn't mean to out your secret like that." He said. You were utterly confused. "And um...why did this come up?" You asked. "Well after you implied that you were uh...getting some... the guys were curious. Eddie didn't seem to think it was true so I just confirmed it." Steve explained. Eddie didn't believe you were seeing someone? Why wouldn't he believe it? Should you be offended? "So I told him how you met him at the library." You looked at him. The library? Was that the best he could do? Guess it could have been worst. "I think Eddie is a bit offended that you didn't tell him though." Steve added. "He was?" You asked. Steve nodded.

You made sure not to smile at that statement. Eddie still deeply cared about your relationship... friendship. You took another sip of your drink. You saw the door open and in came Eddie. He still appeared visibly irritated. He didn't say anything as he sat down smelling like the cigarette he just smoked. "Eds I thought you were quitting." You said. He didn't look at you. He refused. "And I thought we told each other everything. Guess we're both wrong." He deadpanned. His bluntness caught you off guard. "Seriously? Why are you so upset, Eddie?" You asked. You weren't expecting it to bother him so much. "I just thought you were always honest with me. I never thought you would hide things from me." He stated. Steve furrowed his eyebrows. "She didn't hide anything from you man. She just didn't get the chance to tell you." Steve said defending you. Eddie finally looked at you. "When the hell were you planning on telling me?" He asked.

You were at a loss for words. The hell were you supposed to say. "I um...was gonna tell you today, actually." You stammered. Eddie didn't look like he believed you but he didn't bother asking you anything else. Everyone basically tried to move on from the now awkward conversation. You on the other hand were trying to drown your thoughts by getting to the bottom of your glasses. You got up once again to grab the other two glasses from the bar. The guys looked at Steve. “Is Y/N okay? She seems a little off.” Mike questioned him. Steve didn’t know how to respond. “Yeah she usually doesn’t ever stay this quiet.” Dustin said. “Or drink this much.” Gareth added fully knowing you never went past drinking two glasses of alcohol before. Eddie was quiet too. Was something really wrong with his best friend? Why would Steve know and not him? Eddie was slowly starting to freak out in his head that he was possibly losing you as his friend. That was something he refused to let happen. “I’m sure she’s fine. I think she’s been stressed at work is all.” Steve said as he managed to come up with an excuse.

You came back excited to be carrying two more glasses. You sat back down and didn’t waste time to start drinking. “Y/N.” Eddie said your name softly trying to get your attention. “Be honest. Are you okay?” He asked. The question caught you off guard. “Why wouldn’t I be?” “You’ve been acting really weird.” Jeff stated. “Just answer the question.” Eddie pressed. Next thing you knew your attention was taken away when Bernie the owner of the Hideout came to the table. “Guys I’m having a bit of an emergency. Our performer canceled tonight. Do you think your band could play?” He asked looking at Eddie. “We can’t. We don’t have any of our stuff or anything prepared. I’m here for my bachelor party. Eddie explained. Bernie looked beyond stress. “Shit, the evening rush is gonna be coming in less than five minutes and they’re all gonna be expecting something being played live.” He said as he freaked out. Something clicked in your head. “I can go up.” You stated. You weren’t sure why you volunteered yourself. Maybe it was the fact that you downed three glasses of OJ and vodka but you had an odd amount of confidence. “You will?” Eddie asked. He hadn’t realized you had performed anything before. For argument’s sake you hadn’t but you were suddenly willing to try. You nodded. “Are you sure?” Bernie asked you. “Sure, why not?” Bernie had a huge smile on his face. “Kid, you’re a lifesaver. Is there anything specific you need for your performance?” You thought for a second. “You by chance have an acoustic guitar back stage?” Bernie nodded. “Yeah. Just the one. Why don’t you head back there and get ready.” You got up without a word and went backstage. You had been back there many times in the past after Eddie’s gigs to always tell him how great he was. This time was different since that obviously wasn’t the case. You found the guitar and grabbed it. You leaned against the wall behind you as you strummed the guitar to see if it needed tuning and it definitely did.

After tuning it you decided to spend the next few minutes to practice playing the beat of the song. You already knew how it was supposed to go. You just wanted to make sure it sounded right. A minute later Bernie walked up to you. “Okay we’ve worked up a pretty big crowd. Its time for you to go up. Are you ready?” He asked. You took in a shaky breath and nodded. He walked you to a stool in the middle of the stage. You took a seat and he then left to pull the curtains open. Your heart started to beat incredibly fast as the stage lights blinded you. You looked out to the crowd. There was easily about 30 people out there. Your eyes met Eddie’s as he appeared to be studying you. He was generally curious to see how you would do. The mic went on and you cleared your throat. “Um hi. I-I’m Y/N L/N. I don’t usually perform here. Actually...I don’t perform at all so this will be my first time.” You stated. “Just sing something already!” Some guy shouted from the crowd which made you nervous. “Hey shut the hell up.” Eddie turned to look at the guy. The guy thankfully didn’t say anything else. “So I’m going to sing this song I wrote. It’s called Honest. It is pretty important to me.”

You started to strum the guitar. You took a deep breath and began to sing.

Listen, I've got something to tell you. You looked up to Eddie. As you sang.

And no, I don't know how it'll sound. I was never good at conversations. Whisper when I meant to scream out. You took in another breath and looked back down at the guitar in your hands. All of these feelings are saying, That I could never find a better love, better love than you. The silence is killing me, doll. The chorus was coming up. You thought. That's how I know I haven't said enough. Said enough. If my heart had a voice. It'd cut through the chaos, cut through the noise. If my heart had a choice. I'd tell you the stories. I'd always avoid. I'd be honest to you, honest to God. If my heart had a voice. You decided to look back up at the crowd who was deathly quiet. Distance won't make me forget you. This line made you think of how you didn’t get to spend any time with him during the two months and yet you still thought about him. Won't you please just ask me to stay. I know that I can be frustrating. Promise you, my touch will explain. All of these feelings are saying. That I could never find a better love. Better love than you. The silence is killing me, doll. That's how I know I haven't said enough. Said enough. If my heart had a voice. It'd cut through the chaos, cut through the noise. If my heart had a choice. I'd tell you the stories. I'd always avoid. I'd be honest to you, honest to God. If my heart had a voice. You began to hum the harmony as you strummed. You took another deep breath. If my heart had a voice. It'd cut through the chaos, cut through the noise. If my heart had a choice

I'd tell you the stories. I'd always avoid. I'd be honest to you, honest to God. You stopped strumming as you had completed the song. You hadn’t realized it until now that there was tears in your eyes.

The crowd was silent for a bit but then everyone started clapping and cheering. You breathed in deeply. The breath was shaky. Tears kept streaming down your face. They wouldn’t stop. You put the guitar down and walked out of the building. You felt like you couldn’t breathe from all the emotions that were coming at you all at once. You took a deep breath. You leaned forward and placed your hands on your knees as you breathed out. The door opened but you were too distraught by your emotions to even process the fact that someone was approaching you. It wasn’t until you felt a hand on your back that you realized your weren’t alone. “Baby, you did so great.” It was Eddie. Your muse. Did he know? “I didn’t realize you could sing. I’m so proud of you.” He showed his support as he kept rubbing circles on your back. You stood up straight. “Thank you.” You said almost in a hushed tone. Eddie brought you into his arms. “That guy isn’t worth it if he’s making you feel that way.” You heard him say softly into your ear.

You were confused by his comment. “Huh?” “That guy, you’re seeing. From the library.” He said. Oh my god. He really didn’t know then. He pulled away from you and rested his hands on your shoulders as he looked into your eyes. “The song was about him. Wasn’t it?” He asked. You had two options. Either lie through your teeth and just say you were planning on leaving this so called library guy. Or you could tell the truth and be honest with him. That’s what your wrote the song about anyways. Being honest with yourself and him. That would be the right thing right? “No. It wasn’t.” You admitted. “Then who was it-” “It was about you.” You stated cutting him. It felt like all the air in your lungs was just sucked right out of you. The silence between the two of you was deadly. “I love you. I’m in love with you.” You said as you broke the silence. “Y/N...” “You shouldn’t marry Kendra. Y-You can’t marry her.” “Y/N. You’re drunk.” He tried to argue. He found this all too hard to believe. “I-I’m not.” You shook your head. “Yes you are. You need to go home Y/N. You don’t know what you’re saying.” He said as he grabbed your arm and began to pull you inside. “Yes. I do. Why won’t you believe me?” You asked as he stayed quiet. Eddie made his way back to the table with you. “Harrington take her home.” He said to Steve.

Steve looked confused. “Why? The party isn’t over.” He said. “It is for her. She’s drunk.” Eddie argued. Steve shook his head. “She seems fine to me-” “Well she’s not fine, so please take her home.” “Eddie I-” You wanted to defend your sobriety but Eddie wouldn’t have any of it. “Harrington. Now.” “Alright fine. Jesus Christ man.” Steve got up from his chair walked over to you. “Come on Y/N. Lets get you home.” You started crying again. The waterworks coming right back. You didn’t say anything as you walked back out by yourself. You walked all the way to Steve’s car. Steve followed shortly after. He opened the car for you and you got into the passenger seat in silence. “Y/N are you-” “Just drive Steve.”

You kept crying as Steve obliged and started his drive towards your house. You sniffled. “I told him Steve.” You finally spoke. “I finally told him how I felt, and he didn’t believe me.” You explained. “He didn’t?” He asked as he turned to look at you briefly. You shook your head. “No. He said I was just drunk." You sniffed and wiped your nose. "I know I was drinking a lot but I-I...I'd know if I was drunk." You cried even more. Steve was so angry at Eddie at wasn't even funny but he said nothing about it.

****************************************************************************************

That next day the four of you were at Family Video again. "I just don't get why he wouldn't believe you." Robin was furious. "It doesn't make any sense. I mean you were sober enough to play guitar and sing that song. That man is an idiot." She continued. Nancy rubbed your back. "I'm really proud of you Y/N. I know how hard that must have been for you." She said. You tried so hard not to cry this time. "It just hurts so much. He didn't even want to consider that it might've been true, despite if I was sober or not.” You clutched your chest. “It hurts to think about him. It just hurts to even see him.” You say. “Then don’t.” Robin replied. “I can’t just not see him, Robin. It feels like he is everywhere. Hell I’m even supposed to go to his wedding. I can’t just avoid him. Hawkins is too small.” She looked deep in thought. “You’re right. Hawkins is too small. but you can leave.” You were confused. She wanted you to leave Hawkins? “Do you not want me around?” You asked. “Well of course I do but not if it means you’re not happy, and lets face it, you haven’t been happy here in a long time. I think you could use a fresh start. One where Eddie isn’t around.” Robin explained to you.

All she really wanted was what is best for you and she did bring up a great point, there was no way you’d be happy here in Hawkins. It started to feel like you were living life in hell. As if life had seen all your fears and worst nightmares and decided to make it a brutal reality that you honestly couldn’t stand. The idea was tempting to say the least. “I guess a fresh start would be nice...but I would miss Eddie too much. I would miss you guys too much. Hawkins is my home. You guys are my home.” You said as the thought brought tears to your eyes. “No this isn’t fair. Y/N shouldn’t have to leave because Eddie is the biggest dumbass to walk this Earth, okay? It should be him leaving.” Steve interjected. You shook your head. “Yeah but that isn’t gonna happen obviously. Look Robin is right. If I want a fighting chance to heal and to survive this heartbreak I need to leave.” Nancy started to cry now. “Y/N you can’t leave. You’re my best friend. What about all of our movie nights? Our late night chats over the phone? I don’t want to lose all of that.” You hugged her and also cried freely. “We can still talk over the phone when I leave Nance. This is something that I have to do. Eddie made his choice. No it’s time to make mine.”

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#Spotify #eddie x reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson angst #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction

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gaoau · 4 months

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二 ; two ; dos

it's so cold warnings — none. word count — 3.6k

prev. — next.

i'm hungry. how mikey managed to slip away from me while i searched for the first-aid kit is beyond me. he said we were going to have lunch together and now he's not in the room. it wasn't explicit, but i can read his cues with ease. he's an open book, always has been. white font written against white pages, reflecting back all the light his eyes swallow to blind me so i can never guess. if anything, i know he hates it when i skip a meal. i wonder why he can't care for himself like this. why do i have to stick around and make sure he's okay? he's not. i know he's not.

i scan the room once more as if mikey would magically appear. haru leans back on his chair like it's a swing and i'd like to laugh, telling him he might as well snap his neck. koko types away on his laptop with that aura that says he doesn't want to be bothered. i sigh, "koko, any idea where mikey went?" i know, but i'd rather pretend i don't.

haru's chair slams against the floor, making me cringe at the echo. both koko and i scowl at his carefree smirk. koko sighs, too, tearing his attention away from his screen. "checked the roof already?"

i have not, in fact, checked the roof yet. i figured he would be there, i just hoped he wouldn't. not right now, at least, after all i've seen. "not really, thanks…" i swallow my complaints and my woes, because i need to wrap up that cut i saw on mikey's leg. i know he's ignoring it. i know he's letting it burn on his skin. i'll find him wherever he may be, following that blinding light of his.

just as i turn to head up the stairs, koko calls out to me, "hey," he says that nickname. there's no one in this world who addresses me by my real name. it's what mikey does. like a brand, like a signature, mikey gives his things a different name to distinguish us. that intoxicating charm he captivated me with is just a childish nickname.

"yeah?"

"you should take care of your hands." i glance down at my burning knuckles. i've already wrapped them up with loose bandages. "you're dripping all over the place." he's right. it's almost like he's chastising me for ignoring my wounds. blood trails down my fingers and splatters on the pristine tiles, one drop at a time. i can't believe i didn't realize. i'm just fighting to hate the things i want so i don't stray from mikey's side.

so i give koko a simper that blurs the line between a smile and a grimace. "sorry, i'll clean it up in a bit."

koko is tired of me being stupid. "just fix your hands," he exhales, nearly exasperated. does he feel responsible because he's a little bit older than us? i'm not stupid. "i'll handle it." he's nice. koko has always been nice. i wish i could stop denying he's right in front of me. he isn't mine to keep. i feel this bloody venom choking me into the dark. a nod is all i leave him with before he returns to his laptop. the door clicks shut behind me so i can make my way up to the rooftop.

unsurprisingly, mikey is sitting by the edge, cross-legged all on his own. as per usual, he's all on his own. that's why i'm here. that's why i stick to his side. he gazes down at the city he once dreamed to rule alongside his friends. on top of the world, he wears his crown and assumes his throne. we subjects blindly follow our king, but he has no action, and we have no say. he turns his head over his shoulder when he hears me approaching. those empty eyes of him, always watching me. he waits every time for me to come to him. he knows i'll find my way back to him, wherever he may be, as if we could call it destiny. i feel so small against the look in his eyes burning right through me. he once trapped me with them and now i'm stuck with him forever.

i settle down beside him. willingly. i do this willingly. i want to help him. swinging my legs over the edge is routine. maybe i'm preparing myself for when i meet my end. mikey's eyes are trained on my every movement as i open the first-aid kit. "are you gonna let that get infected?" i sound light-hearted. i am light-hearted. this is how we've always been.

mikey spares a minuscule glance at the slash on his leg, bleeding through the tear on his uniform. he sets my hands on fire. "are you?"

this is like déjà vu—a very painful, dizzying one. we've had an interaction like this already once. we were younger. we had our friends. we could laugh. we were all alive. he smiled at me sweetly back then. when i looked into his hollow eyes, i smiled back, chuckling. that smile of his. i could feel it, his pretty poison rushing through my heart. he was always so charming.

i sat down beside him at the top of the stairs leading to the shrine. where else could mikey go if not somewhere high in solitude? i couldn't leave him alone, though, so i didn't. there was an open gash on his chest. there were drops of his blood on the steps. these were the aftermaths of another brawl Toman engaged in. "i only have alcohol," i laughed, showing off the bottle. "Smiley took the peroxide." i know mikey doesn't like alcohol because it stings. i know he thinks peroxide is funny when it bubbles. at least he did back then. i rolled my eyes at him as he pouted.

i could feel his eyes following my bleeding hands as i soaked a cotton ball in alcohol. i fucked up my fingers during that fight. i had to prioritize mikey before i patched myself up. that was what i swore, that i would care for him and he would care for me. that i was his so i should let him shoulder my unstable heart. i took care of him before i did myself, because he took on too much. it was very quiet between the two of us. i could hear him breathe. he could hear a drop of my blood breaking on the floor.

then he laughed. it startled me. i pulled away, blinking owlishly. "what's so funny?"

"our blood got mixed up," he giggled. he led my gaze down with his own. a small puddle of blood—of our blood—lay on the stone steps. i turned back to look mikey in the eye. it was bone-chilling. it felt like he was trying to swallow my soul with his void-like pupils. he leaned into me, noses barely centimeters apart. that boyish grin of his danced on his lips like second-nature. "this means we belong to each other." it was so fantastically easy for him to trap me. he said those words with confidence and not an ounce of shame. i would do anything for mikey. i was born to see he found happiness somewhere.

what used to be a possessive you're mine grew into a reciprocal you're mine and i'm yours. mikey became my responsibility because he made me his. it was the only thing he knew how to do; be stronger than everyone else, stand taller than everyone else, keep everyone under his wing. he made sure he would never be alone. i'd never part from his side. that was all i got in return for being his; my blood and his and dirt, mixed up in a grotesque puddle on the floor. it was a heavy weight on my mind. "then shut up and let me finish," i chuckled, "i hate it when people touch my things." i thought if he leaned on me, he'd be alright. i thought he could trust his hands in mine.

mikey hated people touching his things more than anyone. mikey never learned how to share. he was sloppy, but so very careful as he wrapped my hands up. he fixed my knuckles for me, because when something of his breaks, it's his job to mend it. he kept my fingers intertwined with his while looking into my eyes. dark and empty and hollow and these were mikey's eyes. these were eyes that loved me and kept me safe. "does it hurt?" he brought my bandaged hands to his lips.

i shook my head. "not anymore. thanks." it never hurt. i could barely feel it as i worked on his wounds and let the alcohol sting into my flesh. it was a pain not mine to feel, so i didn't. all i felt was mikey. all he felt was what hurt me.

he pressed his thumbs against my palm. "these cuts are mine, too, okay?" he asked, but it was a statement. he was checking that i followed him. "if they hurt you, they also hurt me, so let me know. i'll protect you better next time." and i swore i'd protect him. "nothing will hurt you anymore as long as you're with me." there he went again with that nickname. my name, scrambled around in chaos, a sound i responded to without hesitation.

it made me smile back then, to know that i had something to hold, to know that i wasn't alone anymore. i loved mikey so much that i would split my skin open as many times as needed just for him. he knew all i did was for him, he knew he meant so much to me. the things i was willing to do to let him be happy, if only i had the ability to do them. i couldn't leave him. i couldn't leave before he did. i didn't want him to be alone anymore. i understand why he stands alone every time.

that boyish grin of his seems like a distant memory now. this is not the same mikey i knew. he's not smiling while i finish patching his leg up. he stares at the blood seeping through my bandages. i wonder if he's remembering what i am. behind his eyes and underneath his heart, i see all his ghosts burning at the seams. he hides them all in his memories—Shin, Kei, Emma, i can see them all, pulling on him and dragging him down. it's like they're not dead yet. can't you see you're losing me, too, Manjiro?

"i'll wrap your hands up for you," he suddenly announces. "it bothers me when you get injured." i feel relief wash over me for a brief moment. there he is, the mikey that cares when his things get broken, the mikey that worries about his friends, the mikey that has friends. i've missed him.

i could laugh. "right back at you."

there's a furrow in his brows. it's like he doesn't matter. "you're my family." i'm all he has left. "you're mine. you can't get hurt like this." he said he'd protect me better next time.

"right back at you."

he's as gentle and careful as he's always been. i want to believe this is the mikey i know. i want to believe he's not giving up. "Emma would've been fuzzing all over you already. start taking better care of yourself." he mutters that nickname again. he's taking care of me. this is what mikey does best.

i was excited when Shin sneaked me into Grandpa's dojo. i'd been loitering around for longer than i should have. anything was better than heading home and being stuck with people that didn't like me. he let me watch the lessons, knowing i couldn't pay. he introduced me to Manjiro and Kei. i loved Kei to bits, but he wasn't Manjiro at all. there was something about Manjiro that drew me towards him. he liked me from the moment he met me. we hit it off almost instantly. we were young, we were kids—making friends was easy back then. he was the best and so was i. he was selfish and so was i. we were far too similar and that was fun.

then i fell under him.

playing savior. that's Mikey's weapon of choice. that's how he best charms and traps people under his spell. i would know. Kei had already gone home with his mother. Mikey asked me why i didn't want to go home yet. he didn't seem surprised or put off in the least when i confessed my older brother was dead. his darkened eyes were trained on me, serious, pensive. he hadn't yet experienced loss back then, but there was something deeper in him suggesting he knew what i was feeling. he listened to me, humming, nodding, "it's fine!" it wasn't fine. i never met my brother. "i'm sure Shinichiro won't mind being your big brother, too!"

i had always felt an empty hole in my chest at the knowledge i was missing a person in my family. maybe that's why i looked up to Shin so much. how was the answer so easy for Mikey? how was it so easy for him to trap me like that? he chained me to the Sanos before i even knew it. maybe it was because Mikey took after Shin. maybe it was in the genes. i mean, even Emma knew how to wrap people around her finger without trying. something about the Sano family exploited my deepest weaknesses and locked me up. i wish someone told me from the start that i was making a mistake. i wish someone had told me i would end up hating Mikey so much i couldn't bear to leave him.

Mikey lay himself bare to me. we were so young. he talked to me about his non-existent parents and his badass Grandpa. he told me how Shin looked after him to the best of his abilities. i look back now and i hope Shin isn't blaming himself for the way things turned out. he didn't know what he was doing. i shared details about my own family. my parents were very much there, more than i wanted them to. my mother, out of her mind, mixing her prescriptions with alcohol. my father, living inside his mind, twisted in frightening narcissism. "man, your family sucks, huh. at least you've got mine!" Mikey grinned at me with those dark eyes of his that seemed to swallow up the light.

"i guess," i laughed. having a messed up family wasn't something i knew how to process. it didn't compute in my mind at the time what i was blabbing about. "i'm lucky you're sharing your siblings with me." or i thought i was. Mikey was all i had back then.

and it was scary. the way he turned to look me right in the eye. the way he was staring into me so intently as if he was trying to reach into my soul.

his hands were so fast. he had me frozen in place before i realized. i didn't care. "my family is yours because you're mine." he scrambled the syllables in my name and made up a nickname. he never called me by my real name ever again. "you're mine, so forget about your family. if someone hurts you, that's my pain, too, okay?" he asked me so innocently, but he looked at me so violently. his palms were firmly pressed against my cheeks. i thought i was being cradled. i foolishly nodded.

he was like a virus, slowly infecting me, making all of my defenses erode with warmth i'd never felt. i watched him trap Tora the same way he did to me. the rest of Toman, too, bowed to his feet—he had us all under his spell. how come they broke free from him, but i never could? Mikey knew what he was doing. he oversaturated his world with people weaker than him so he could be our savior. he was all i had. Kei and Tora had each other, Ken was in love with Emma, Takashi had his sisters, Pah had more than all of us combined. i had nothing. it was either Mikey or loneliness for me. i was so naïve. the way i held him on such a high pedestal was detrimental for him and i never noticed.

"I have a bad feeling about tonight," Mikey speaks out loud.

his back is turned to us. he's staring out the window, feeling the rain pouring down outside as if it were pelting on his mind. it probably is. Mikey is someone who can put two and two together. the night Ken was stabbed, it was raining. i remember how he cried after the surgery. i wonder if he still thinks about it when the sky splits itself in half. is that what this is about? he hasn't talked to Ken in almost two years. he looks so small against the windows, against the bustling city he rules over. i turn away from him to meet Koko's eyes. he seems worried. he's asking if Mikey's ever been one to believe in bad feelings. i don't know.

there's really no escape for either of us until we die. the news arrives in the form of a disheveled Kanto Manji member. i'm horrified, but i don't have the time to care about my feelings. Ken must be happy now that he can meet Emma again. i wish it could be me. i'm not sure when i started to get used to my family leaving me behind. Shin was only the beginning.

Shin stung in a way i couldn't understand. i didn't find out about his murder until the following day when i went to hang out. the information slapped against my face all at once. Shin was dead. Tora killed him. Kei was with him.

Kei was with him? Kei, who knew just how valuable Mikey's things were, especially his cool older brother he looked up to so much. of all people, Kei broke one of Mikey's things—Kei broke one of my things. we lost three people that day, two of which came back and left right after. we started losing everyone around us. now i had two older brothers that were dead, that were killed. this one hurt. this one really hurt. we both had a dead older brother. we were both tasting loss.

Mikey hadn't even finished telling me the whole situation when laughter bubbled out of my throat. it didn't make any sense. there was always an empty space with the knowledge that i had a brother i never met, but now it was even emptier with my older brother being gone. i couldn't understand. i was breaking down as Mikey glared at me like i was insane. i was almost cackling while he moved in to wrap his arms around me. i wanted to cry for him.

"it hurts…" i muttered, because i needed it to hurt. Mikey gripped me so tightly, letting me know he was here to take care of me. "Manjiro, it hurts… he's gone… we won't get him back…" i would know. i lost family before i even had it. i thought i'd gained more family when Manjiro claimed me.

i wasn't crying and neither was he. Mikey comforted me, "but I'm still here. I won't leave you, so don't you leave me." but he didn't comfort me. he was comforting himself. this hurt him more than me. Shin was his brother before he was mine. i wasn't crying, but Mikey hid his face on my shoulder and i felt a few of his tears seep through my shirt. Manjiro would never leave me, so i could never leave him. i swore i belonged with him and nothing could take me away. he was mine to keep.

i knew right there that i'd been defeated. i wanted Death to come get me, too, but i knew i had to stay with Mikey. life was pulling at the seams and tearing us to pieces. we were so young. he was being weak and vulnerable with me; something he never did with anyone else, because he protected other people, he played savior for them, he was stronger than any of us. he should have played savior for me, but since he belonged to me as much as i belonged to him, he could simply cry and be vulnerable in my arms.

against my neck, Mikey mumbled, "if it hurts… why don't you cry, too?" he took on all of the pain. he tightened his arms around me.

"you're crying my tears for me, Manjiro." my pain was his. all my pain was his to feel.

#it's so cold #tokyo revengers #tokrev #sano manjiro #manjiro sano #manjiro sano x reader #sano manjiro x reader #mikey x reader #tokyo revengers x reader #tokrev x reader

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