#those eight words were a little confusing when i first read them

[fantasyescapes17]

Closed Doors (Part 3, Final)

Soonyoung had made peace with his station in life. A younger son of a little-known family, he was not set to inherit a fortune and had nothing to recommend him but his bright personality. Nobody expected Soonyoung to make the match of the season. But when you- a woman with ties to the royal family and riches beyond his imagination, a Duchess in your own right- seeks Soonyoung's hand in marriage, his life begins to spiral entirely out of his control.

Genre: Hoshi x female!reader. Regency!AU. Your title is the Duchess of Graham but your first name is not mentioned.

Warnings: Not even remotely historically accurate. Much like Bridgerton, this is all about the aesthetic.

Word Count: 8.1k+

Part 1 Part 2

Series Masterlist [This is not the first installment in this series- it is strongly recommended to visit the Masterlist and read the installments in order as they are all interlinked and the timeline can be confusing.]

You awoke with the morning sun shining brightly in your eyes. 

One of the maids had opened the curtains and cracked the window. There was a gentle breeze and you could hear birds chirping; the sounds and fresh smells of the countryside estate were much more pleasing than the smoke and noise of London. 

You relaxed instinctively, knowing that you were home. It was warm under the covers and you sleepily sat up in bed and blinked at the maid. 

“What time is it?” you asked her. 

“It’s a quarter to eight, Your Grace. I thought perhaps you might want to sleep in, but since the Duke was already awake…” she trailed off with a giggle. 

The drowsiness cleared and you suddenly remembered where you were. Not in your usual bedchambers, but in the bedchambers of your newly wedded husband, now the Duke of Graham. Your face grew hot as you remembered the events of the previous night. Soonyoung had surprised you many times since your first meeting, but the events of the previous night had perhaps been the most pleasurable surprise of all. 

“Do you require anything, Your Grace?” the maid asked you, concerned. “If you are in any pain…” 

You wrapped the bedsheets around you tightly and tried not to show your embarrassment. 

“No- I… just help me dress, please. Where is the Duke?” 

“In the master study downstairs, Your Grace. He has been there all morning.” 

“All morning?” 

“Yes, Your Grace. He was awake long before most of the servants had arisen.” 

You were confused but kept your questions to yourself. You allowed the maid to help you dress and then went downstairs to the master study. This had been your late father’s favourite haunt, and although it was not as large as the grand library upstairs, it was still a luxurious room where your father had conducted most of his business meetings and matters of the estate. 

The study door was slightly ajar. You could hear familiar male voices: Soonyoung, Mr. Johnson the estate manager, and one of his assistant bookkeepers.

“There are separate ledgers for the household and for the estate?” Soonyoung was saying in a slightly confused voice. “If I wanted to see a consolidated view of the overall finances-” 

Mr. Johnson spoke up. “We reconcile everything on a quarterly basis, Your Grace. Those records are kept here. I would recommend viewing them separately, however, as the household ledgers only track expenses and outgoings and we report them here as a percentage of the gross income.” 

Soonyoung sighed. There was a hint of frustration in his voice. “But that gross income is before you’ve provided for taxes?” 

“Which taxes, Your Grace? The ones payable to the duchy or the ones payable to the Crown?” the bookkeeper asked patiently. 

“Those are separate taxes?” 

You knocked gently on the study door and pushed it open. Soonyoung was sitting behind the large mahogany desk, while various ledgers and volumes were open on the table before him. He was startled when he looked up and saw you. His ears promptly turned red and he jumped to his feet. 

“Your Grace!” 

The bookkeeper and Mr. Johnson also rose to greet you. 

“Good morning, gentlemen,” you greeted them with a small smile. “Isn’t it rather early to be going through these tedious ledgers?” 

Soonyoung rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “My apologies, Your Grace. I-I asked for Mr. Johnson to come. I wanted his help to better understand the matters of the estate.” 

It was certainly unusual behaviour, but as with everything Soonyoung did, you could see his innocence and good intentions shining through. His eyes were bloodshot. If the maid was to be believed, Soonyoung had been here grappling with the ledgers since half past five in the morning. The new Duke of Graham evidently did not shy away from hard work. You felt a sudden rush of affection for this man, your husband, and his dedication to his new role. 

“Perhaps we might adjourn for breakfast?” you suggested lightly. 

Soonyoung nodded and hastily closed the ledgers before coming over to you. “Yes, yes, of course.” 

“Shall we eat in the gardens?” you asked Soonyoung, who gave you a sudden handsome smile that made your heart skip a beat. You bit your lip and turned to the other gentlemen. “Thank you for coming on the Duke’s request, Mr. Johnson. I will ask the staff to arrange breakfast for you and your assistant in the parlour.” 

Mr. Johnson nodded gratefully. “Thank you, Your Grace.” 

Soonyoung offered you his arm and you took it before leaning closer to him. It was a strange and thrilling feeling to be so near him. While there was little reason to feel shy after the events of last night, you still enjoyed the subtle contact of your hand resting on his elbow. It was an innocent gesture, but now that Soonyoung was your husband, it felt far more meaningful. 

The sight of his soft smile left a strange but pleasant feeling in your stomach. 

The servants had set out your breakfast in the garden and Soonyoung blinked, squinting in the bright morning sunlight as you both stepped outdoors. The gardens were large and beautifully maintained with flower beds, water fountains,  and artfully shaped hedges.

“This estate is even more beautiful by day,” Soonyoung  said honestly. 

You bit your lip. “Something you might have discovered sooner if you had not shut yourself in the study on your very first morning here,” you replied. 

Soonyoung looked apologetic until he noticed the soft smile on your face. You did not appear angry, so he relaxed. 

"I apologise if I worried you, Your Grace."

“I was only surprised. Was going through the estate ledgers so much more exciting than having breakfast with your wife?” 

Soonyoung flushed. "No, I only…"

You smiled at him gently. "Yes?"

"As a second son I never took an interest in matters of the estate or business in my own family. Now I find myself the Duke of a duchy with a history and genealogy that goes back hundreds of years…" Soonyoung paused and bit his lip as he looked down at his teacup with a heavy sigh. "I only hope I can be what the title requires me to be."

You felt a sudden burst of affection for the man and you reached across the table to place your hand on top of his. 

"Soonyoung."

"Yes?"

"I want you to know that you are not alone. I am genuinely grateful for the effort you are putting in," you told him honestly. 

Soonyoung smiled in relief. "Thank you, Your Grace."

"Shall we eat?"

It was a pleasant breakfast in the fresh morning air. Soonyoung seemed in awe of everything; from the breakfast spread to the perfectly maintained flower beds. Soonyoung polished off his meal enthusiastically while telling you about the childhood he spent in the countryside. 

"I'm sure our estate wasn't even a quarter of this size," he admitted. "I don't remember much about it. I was sent off to boarding school and then the Royal Naval Academy fairly young, and I spent my summer breaks in London."

You blinked at him. "But the Viscount said he first met you in Oxford?"

He coughed, looking rather embarrassed. "Yes- I attended Oxford for about a year. It was fun; I made friends but I was bottom of the class and it was quite evident by the end of the first year that I was not about to become a barrister or a doctor. I thought I had best cut my losses, and transfer to the Royal Naval Academy."

"Were you drawn to the navy by a sense of adventure?" you asked with a smile. 

Soonyoung chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck. "A boyish sense of adventure? I suppose so. I was certainly more motivated by the thought of defeating enemy warships than being called to the bar. I wanted to do something exciting, so I will not pretend that I was pleased to learn sailors are more likely to die from scurvy or drowning than at the edge of an enemy combatant's sword."

"Is there much sword-fighting in the Navy?"

He grinned at you sheepishly. "There was plenty in my fantasies."

You could not help but smile back at him. "It seems I must apologise, then, for depriving the Crown of a potentially heroic naval captain to defend our stormy seas."

"Considering the number of times I had to retake the lesson on using a sextant to navigate at sea, I am sure the Crown is quite grateful to you for keeping me on solid land, Your Grace," Soonyoung replied humbly. 

"Oh- I have always wanted to learn how to use a sextant," you said brightly. "It's a funny little contraption, is it not?"

Soonyoung chuckled as he sipped his tea. "Fiddly little things and awful to use. I was horrified when I went to the academy and learned that ships did not just sail blindly into the vast unknown, and marine navigation involved an overwhelming amount of mathematics and nautical charting," he admitted. 

"You expected more sword fighting?"

"I expected less calculating."

"Well," you said with a smile as you sipped your tea, "I am sorry that you are forced to do some calculating here. I noticed that you were going through the ledgers this morning. What prompted you to rise at daybreak on your first day and undertake that particularly painful task?"

Soonyoung blushed. "You will laugh if I tell you."

"Only if you say something funny."

“I- I woke at dawn and I could not sleep,” he admitted. His ears were slightly red. “I went out for a drink of water, but I wandered down the wrong hallway and found myself in what I now understand to be the ancestral gallery? It was a long hallway filled with portraits of your ancestors who all stared down at me disapprovingly from the walls. It struck me that I was responsible for continuing their legacy, and I did not relish the idea of having to face them if I hadn’t done everything in my power to uphold the glory of their duchy. I became quite anxious, so once I had escaped the gallery, I asked to meet the estate manager immediately.” 

The corner of your lips twitched noticeably. 

Soonyoung pouted at you. “You promised that you would not laugh, Your Grace!” 

“I promised no such thing,” you replied, but you could not help but let out a giggle at the thought of the poor Duke wandering around the manor at dawn. “But I will not laugh at you. I will only make one observation.” 

“That is?” 

“Many of these ancestors you saw in the portrait gallery were drunkards, gamblers, and adulterers. I assure you that there is nothing particularly grand or glorious about most of them. They were simply rich men. I do not think you shall find it incredibly difficult to outshine them, Your Grace,” you told him. “Honestly- the only prerequisite to be added to that gallery is to stay alive long enough to produce an heir that will put up your portrait once you are gone.” 

Soonyoung almost choked on his tea. “Yes- an heir, of course.” 

You bit your lip and avoided his gaze. “There is… no particular urgency on that front.” 

“Right.” 

“Shall we take a tour of the manor, then, to prevent Your Grace from losing your way and encountering more anxiety-inducing portraits?” 

Soonyoung smiled. “Yes, let’s.” 

Over the course of your first day as Soonyoung's wife, you were surprised by how pleasurable you found his company. Soonyoung was not suave or charming in the style of men like Viscount Hong, nor did he possess the bold confidence or pride that were often considered desirable among the male sex. 

No. Soonyoung was different. He was kind, he was honest, and he was humble. You had never met a man quite like him. You had never met a man that you wanted, more than anything in the world, to love and trust with all your heart. 

It was a long day but time spent with Soonyoung went by in a flash. You showed him around the manor, the gardens and the creek and told him about your family and childhood and the estate. Soonyoung listened to you intently. He hung onto your every word and although you had always been a quiet and reserved person, you found yourself speaking more than you usually did, opening up to him, and even laughing. 

Your maid, Rosie, noticed the lingering smile on your face as she helped you dress for bed later that night. 

"If I may say something, Your Grace…" Rosie began shyly as she combed through your hair. 

You blinked up at her in the mirror. "Yes?"

"We were all quite worried, Your Grace, when we heard that you had married in London so suddenly- and to a man with no fortune,  even Mr Johnson thought perhaps Your Grace was being taken advantage of…"

You looked up at her defensively. "I may be a woman but I am not an idiot, Rosie."

Rosie flushed. "Of course not, Your Grace! I see that now… I think we all understand why you married the Duke."

"Oh? And why is that?"

"Well… pardon me, Your Grace, but you haven't been yourself since the late Duke passed. You've become so quiet and withdrawn and we were rather worried. But since yesterday… well, old Mrs. Minnie in the gardens was saying that she couldn't remember the last time she saw you smiling so brightly."

You pursued your lips in embarrassment. Was it so obvious, even to the servants? You had always been careful not to reveal your true feelings too much, to mask your emotions behind a practised smile. But if even the servants could see that Soonyoung had such an effect on you…

The thought was strangely both comforting and scary. 

There was a knock on your door. One of the servants opened the door and poked her head in. She seemed to be stifling a smile. 

"Your Grace? The Duke is here for you. We found him wandering the upstairs hallways."

"Of course, please let him in. Are you done, Rosie?"

Rosie released your hair with a smile. "Of course, Your Grace. Good night."

The servants left while hiding their giggles, and Soonyoung entered your room with flushed cheeks. He was holding a bottle of wine- the same bottle, you realised, that you had brought to his room the previous night and left unfinished. He glanced awkwardly at the door that the servants exited from. 

"That is the second time one of the servants caught me lost in the manor," he said, embarrassed. "I think they are all laughing at me. I had forgotten where your bedchambers were."

You smiled at him. "Shall I draw you a map?"

"I would probably lose the map as well," Soonyoung joked. He stepped closer to you and revealed the bottle in his hand. "Can I tempt you with a glass of wine before bed? We never finished this one last night."

You nodded. "Of course."

It was a strange sort of intimacy; comfortable and yet still exciting, to crawl under the covers with Soonyoung as he poured you a glass of wine. He lit a cigar with your permission. You ordinarily disliked the smell of tobacco, but oddly, you did not mind anything much when you were with Soonyoung. 

Sipping the wine, you patiently answered his questions about the estate and the dukedom. You had been handling most of the important matters yourself for many months now; particularly since your father's illness had him bedridden. 

"It must have been very difficult," Soonyoung said gently, "taking care of the estate while you were worried about your father's health."

You looked down at his fingers entwined with yours and sighed. His touch was warm and comforting. 

"It was not easy," you confessed. "I lost my mother very young and my father was all I had. I was never a very social person. Without a mother or a sister to chaperone me I… I never even spent much time in society or at balls."

Soonyoung was quiet, but you could tell that he was listening. 

"I had always felt alone, but it wasn't until my father passed that I realised how alone I really was," you continued. "He had wanted me to marry before he died but his health became worse suddenly…"

 Soonyoung squeezed your hand. 

"I'm sorry," he whispered. 

You bit your lip. You had never spoken to anyone about this before and it felt almost cathartic to confess it all to Soonyoung. 

"The day after my father died, all the vultures descended."

"Vultures?" Soonyoung asked, confused. 

"One of my father's oldest friends- a nobleman more than twice my age- proposed marriage to me before my father had even been properly buried. When I refused him, he was furious. Another came to the funeral and told me that as a lady I couldn't possibly manage the duchy and that if I signed it over to him, he would take care of it for me and give me an allowance."

Soonyoung stared at you in disbelief. 

"Monsters," he mumbled. 

Your lower lip trembled. "There were more offers… some cruder than others. I began to realise that as long as I remained unmarried, I would continue to have a painted target on my forehead. But I had nobody to trust. That was when I finally reached out to Viscount Hong."

Soonyoung blinked. "But he is happily married."

You nodded. "That made it easier to trust him. I knew the Viscount from my youth, of course, but plenty of people that I knew from my youth had since revealed themselves to be untrustworthy. Viscount Hong was the only person who did not want anything from me and genuinely treated me as a friend. That is why I could confide in him. I sought his help to find a husband."

Soonyoung finished his glass of wine and then turned to look at you- his gaze was a little unfocused and you realised that he had drunk too much of the wine. The bottle lay empty on the bedside table. 

"Wouldn't you rather have married him instead?"

Your eyes widened. "Soonyoung!"

His lower lip stuck out, almost in a pout as he leaned his head against one of the pillows lazily. His tone was contemplative. "It's hardly outrageous. Viscount Hong is rich, handsome, very charming…"

"And as you pointed out yourself, quite happily married," you protested. 

"But you must have considered it?"

You blinked down at your husband. He did not seem angry; his eyelids seemed heavy but he forced them open to look up at you. It was genuine curiosity in his eyes and you felt obligated to answer him with honesty. 

You sighed. "I will admit that I considered Viscount Hong quite handsome when we were younger- although I dare you to find a young lady in the ton, married or single, who did not feel the same way about him at some point. He is quite attractive but no, I do not think I ever seriously considered marrying him."

"Why not?"

"I am not sure we would have suited each other."

"But you thought I suited you?"

You looked down at Soonyoung. His cheek was pressed against the pillow and his face was flushed. It had been a long day; he was clearly struggling to stay awake and his voice was beginning to sound slurred. 

"I did," you replied quietly. 

"Why-why did you marry me?" he mumbled. 

You took a deep breath. Frankly, you were surprised that Soonyoung had not asked you this question much, much sooner. It had quite clearly been on his mind. Stranger yet was that you dreaded being asked this question- it forced you to confront feelings that you were not sure you were ready to face. 

"I-"

There was a soft snore from the pillow. You looked down in surprise- Soonyoung had fallen asleep. His mouth was still slightly open and his face flushed. You giggled and leaned down to kiss his soft cheek. 

"Good night, Your Grace."

—----------------------------------------------

The first few weeks of your 'honeymoon period', as many called it, with Soonyoung were perhaps some of the happiest days you had ever spent. The Graham manor (a place that had never been a source of much happiness for you, and had become a source of misery since your father's death) was suddenly lit up by Soonyoung's mere presence. 

He resolved to learn about the estate. You discovered that, despite his seeming lack of confidence, Kwon Soonyoung could do anything if he set his mind to it. There was a steely determination that seemed to overtake him when it came to matters of the estate and dukedom. 

Even Mr. Johnson, the stiff and difficult-to-please estate manager, admitted to you that he was impressed with the way Soonyoung had taken charge of the dukedom. 

"His Grace insisted upon meeting the peasants himself," Mr. Johnson told you in confidence. "I assumed it was a vanity trip; some of the noblemen like to lord their wealth before the commoners. But His Grace actually walked through the fields instead of taking his carriage and spoke to each of the peasants individually to understand their troubles."

You blinked in surprise. "Did my father ever do that?"

Mr. Johnson chuckled. "No. The late Duke would make the peasants travel up to the manor if they had complaints and to submit their taxes. It took them all day- and meant that they couldn't tend to the fields."

"This way is better, then."

"Personally, I think some distance between the common folk and nobility should be maintained," Mr. Johnson said stiffly. "Yet I cannot find it in me to fault His Grace's methods. The other day, he resolved a land dispute that some of the peasants have been having for years… I wish I had been there to see it, but I was not at the site. It seems he convinced them to come to a mutual settlement."

You blinked. "How?"

"I wish I knew. He mediated it himself- they have come to accept His Grace's authority even in such a short time."

You were surprised as well. As the Duchess, you were hardly disliked but it had been ingrained in you from a young age to keep your distance from the peasants and be and be wary of everyone and everything. 

You were respected- but Soonyoung was beloved. He had such an amiable nature that in a matter of months, almost everyone in the duchy had fallen in love with him. 

You were no  exception. 

From the peasants, to the villagers, to the servants at the manor… everyone agreed that the new Duke of Graham was nothing short of a bright ray of sunshine. 

Soonyoung's dedication to his new role as Duke did not mean that he was any less dedicated to his role as a husband. He spent his evenings solely with you. You shared long walks in the gardens and often indulged in some wine before bed. Separate bed-chambers were not uncommon among married couples of the nobility, but you and Soonyoung had never felt the need for them. 

"We shall have to return to London soon," you told him one morning over breakfast as you both perused the post. "Her Majesty has specifically asked me to join her court now that I am married, and you will need to take your place in court among the other Dukes as well…"

Soonyoung blinked at you in surprise. "Has the Queen really written to you personally?"

You bit your lip. "She has always taken a personal interest in me. My mother was quite close to the Queen; she would not have issued the decree which allowed me to keep the title otherwise. I cannot risk offending Her Majesty."

Soonyoung nodded. "Then we shall return as Her Majesty commands."

You suddenly felt anxious. "Maybe it was foolish of me, but I did not invite many Dukes and Earls to our wedding. At least not the vultures. They are certainly upset at my decision not to marry any of them, and I am worried they may be unpleasant upon our return-"

Soonyoung reached across the table and placed his hand on yours gently. 

"It will be fine. We will handle it together."

You smiled at him gratefully. "Thank you, Soonyoung."

"When do we leave?"

"In two days."

—----------------------------------------------------

You were miserable as the carriage approached your London manor and you felt the familiar thickness of the city air. 

The court, the ton, and the intricate politics and pettiness of elite society had never been to your taste. You were by no means bad at it. Putting on a fake smile and pandering to society was a skill you had mastered early on in life, but it gave you almost no pleasure. 

You would have stayed at the estate with Soonyoung forever, if only it was possible. 

"Your Grace!" the butler greeted you politely as you stepped into the familiar luxurious manor and the servants rushed to carry your belongings inside. You turned- but the butler was addressing your husband. "There are a number of letters here for you."

Soonyoung took them and frowned as he rifled. 

"Letters already?" you wondered. 

"I wrote ahead to some of my friends that I was returning to London," Soonyoung admitted shyly. "Mr. Kim wishes to know when I will come by the gentleman's club for a game of cards. Viscount and Viscountess Hong have invited us to a dinner party on Saturday. And this is from… who is the Duke of Kent?"

You winced. "A disgusting old fellow."

"He invites me to join him on a hunting trip tomorrow with some other gentlemen," Soonyoung replied. He looked at you sheepishly. "I… am not particularly good at hunting."

You waved a hand dismissively. "Neither is the Duke of Kent."

"I suppose I should accept his invitation then. Perhaps Mr. Yoon will give me some tips about using a shotgun beforehand…" Soonyoung muttered thoughtfully, as he walked away to find an ink and pen to answer the invitations. 

You felt a strange anxiety in the pit of your stomach. 

"Soonyoung…"

He paused. "Yes, dear?"

"I know I have said this before, but some of these Dukes can be very unpleasant and manipulative, and I…" you trailed off, not sure how to explain yourself. 

You were worried for him. You were worried at the thought of your kind, caring husband alone with those manipulative noblemen who had decades of experience in the art of politics and under-handedness. Soonyoung's expression softened as he came back to you and leaned down to place a soft kiss on your forehead. 

"Do not worry, Your Grace," he said gently. 

"I will not be able to join you hunting, I am required to meet with the Queen tomorrow," you reminded him. 

"As you must."

Soonyoung seemed more confident. Perhaps his success at managing the duchy and popularity with the peasants had left him feeling more comfortable about his position as a Duke. Yet, you could not help but feel that your husband was about to be thrown in the lion's den unprepared. 

You had supper together before going to bed. As was common, the enormous London manor had separate bedrooms for the Duke and Duchess but Soonyoung always found his way to your bedroom after dark. On your first night in London, he arrived much later than usual, after you had already settled under the covers. 

"I got lost," Soonyoung mumbled to you in apology as he blew out your candle and slid under the covers beside you. His arm wrapped around your waist as you giggled. 

"Lost, again?"

He huffed, pressing his cheek to your shoulder. "This is my first night at the London manor. It took me over a month to find my way around the manor at the estate. Now I must acquaint myself with a completely new building full of winding corridors."

You giggled. "I'll have the butler draw you a map in the morning. Good night, Your Grace."

"Good night."

—-----------------------------------------------------------

Soonyoung left for his hunting trip at dawn and you had to leave soon afterwards for your engagement with the Queen. Her Majesty received you warmly in her tea parlour with some of the other ladies-in-waiting, and her sharp eyes scanned you as soon as you had taken your seat. 

"You look different, Duchess," the Queen told you bluntly. 

You bowed politely. "Do I, Your Majesty?"

"Yes. Marriage suits you. I can't be the first person to have told you this. I have seen excellent young ladies destroyed by entering into the wrong marriage, and it pleases me to see that this does not seem to be the case with you. Tell me; are you happy?"

You bit your lip and nodded. "I am, Your Majesty."

"We could have found you a Prince, you know."

You smiled at her graciously. "I am very grateful, Your Majesty. But I have a responsibility to my dukedom and my title- I could not abandon my family heritage to become a Princess."

The Queen nodded and sipped her tea. One of the other court ladies- the Countess Harrison- took the opportunity to speak. 

"Our dear Duchess is, as always, thinking about responsibilities that are not hers to bear," the Countess Harrison said with a titter. "Perhaps it is time you left your dukedom to the men and learned something from the other ladies about womanly responsibilities."

You sighed. You had long learned to pick your battles carefully with the court ladies. 

"And what are these womanly responsibilities, Countess?" you wondered. 

The Countess giggled. "Why, of course; bearing sons to continue the noble bloodline! Surely your family will not petition Her Majesty again to allow you to pass the title onto someone else, simply because you did not bear enough sons?"

"Enough sons?" you asked. You were not taking her conversation seriously at all- frankly, you were more interested in the lemon cakes being served than anything the Countess had to say. 

"But of course! You must have enough sons. Children sometimes die prematurely, it is an unfortunate reality."

You stirred some sugar into your tea. "So fear of your children dying is the reason your husband has sired so many bastards? If little Jonathan should die of fever, then at least your maid's bastard son can take over the Earldom. The continuation of the noble Harrison bloodline may depend upon it," you remarked coolly. 

The Countess flushed a furious shade of red. Some of the other court ladies giggled. They were no friends of yours, but they also did not have much loyalty to each other. 

The Queen looked at you with a friendly twinkle in her eye. 

"Now, now, Duchess. We are all delighted to see you happily married, but you must not be so mean to our Countess here," the Queen said lightly. Her tone was playful. 

"My apologies, Your Majesty," you said half-heartedly.

The Queen rose. "I wish to step outside onto the balcony. Accompany me, Duchess."

It was a statement and one that silenced the other court ladies immediately. The Queen had never been shy about the fact that you were her favourite court lady. Your mother had been her close personal friend, and despite their best efforts, none of the other court ladies had been able to wriggle their way into the Queen's good books quite like your family. 

You offered your arm to the Queen, who led you outside to the balcony and called for her snuffbox. Then she turned to you with a raised eyebrow. 

"Do you remember what I told you when you arrived in London a few months ago- after your father's death?" the Queen asked. 

You bit your lip. "Of course, Your Majesty. You told me that as a Duchess, nothing could come before my duty to the title and my dukedom, and that I would have to make my decisions carefully."

The Queen nodded. "Do you think it was sound advice?"

"I do, Your Majesty."

"Have you followed it?" 

You hesitated and the Queen's sharp eyes did not miss the look on your face. She glanced back at the parlour where the court ladies were still having tea and then raised an eyebrow at you. 

"I-I have tried, Your Majesty," you replied. 

"Then you should have no problem telling me why you chose to put your entire family's legacy in the hands of a poor second son without a penny to his name."

You swallowed. 

"Well?" the Queen asked. "Can you?"

"... I cannot."

—-------------------------------------------------------

You were drained of energy by the time you returned to the manor. The butler informed you that your husband had still not returned from his hunting trip, and that he had sent word for you to have supper without him.

You ate and went to bed but somehow, you could not sleep alone. You had become too used to Soonyoung's warm body against yours. He always tucked you in close to him with an arm around you and his soft and steady breathing was what helped you sleep. Without him, the room was too silent. 

You waited for Soonyoung to return, but the clock struck midnight and he was still not back. You wrapped a robe around yourself and went downstairs. 

The butler ran to you."Do you require anything, Your Grace-"

"Had the Duke still not returned from the hunting trip?" you demanded. 

The butler looked confused. 

"His Grace returned a few hours ago. He was tired and went straight to his bedchambers."

You blinked and nodded before dismissing the butler. Perhaps Soonyoung was too tired to risk getting lost in the manor in search of your room, and had gone to sleep in his own bedchambers. You went back upstairs and hurried to the bedchamber that you knew to be your husband’s. 

You knocked on the door. "Soonyoung?"

There was no response. You turned the handle. 

It was locked. 

An unsettling feeling came across you. You could not think of why Soonyoung would lock the door to his bedchamber. You often had to remind him even to just close the door- he had a careless habit of leaving doors completely ajar. 

There were footsteps on the stairs. Some of the servants were awake, and you decided to return to your own bedchambers instead of causing a scene.

—----------------------------------------------------

You awoke to find Soonyoung had already left the manor. The butler informed you that the Duke had gone to visit his friends Mr. Kim Mingyu and Mr. Lee Seokmin, and would be back in time to accompany you to the dinner party at Viscount Hong's. 

You tried not to read too much into it. Soonyoung had lived in London for a long time, and his friends were undoubtedly eager to meet him upon his return. 

You wondered if you would have had an easier time making friends if it had not been for your title. 

You kept yourself occupied for most of the day with your correspondence and answering invitations that flooded in from members of the ton who had learned you were back in London. The social season was drawing to a close and there were plenty of balls and events crammed into the next week. You could not possibly attend them all, nor did you wish to. 

Soonyoung finally returned in the evening. The carriage waited outside to take you both to the Viscount's home, and you smiled in relief at the sight of your husband. 

"Soonyoung!" you greeted him warmly. "I did not see you last night. How did the hunting trip go?"

Soonyoung grimaced as he helped you into the carriage. "I couldn't shoot anything," he told you honestly. "But neither did the Duke of Kent so at least I was not the worst hunter there. The Viscount shot a rather plump pheasant."

"Viscount Hong was there?"

"Yes, thankfully," Soonyoung muttered. You eyed your husband anxiously as the carriage took off. He was quiet, but it was not entirely unusual for Soonyoung to sometimes be more quiet and withdrawn. He often did it when he was focusing, or thinking deeply about something. 

"Did you enjoy your morning with Mr. Kim and Mr. Lee?" you asked lightly. 

Soonyoung nodded. "Oh-yes."

"What did you do?"

"We only played cards and talked about how they've been during the last few months. I didn't bet much money on the cards," he added quickly. 

You blinked, confused. "I am not worried about you gambling, Soonyoung."

He flushed. "Yes- of course."

The carriage arrived at the Viscount's grand manor and you both descended. Soonyoung offered you his arm and you took it. 

The Viscount and Viscountess were waiting to greet you at the entrance. Viscount Hong smiled, while his wife embraced you and congratulated you and Soonyoung warmly on your marriage. They guided you to the drawing room where about ten or eleven other guests were already gathered. You saw the Earl Harrison, the Duke of Kent and some of the other unpleasant old noblemen along with their wives. 

"Perhaps we should have looked more closely at the guest list before accepting this particular invitation," you mumbled to your husband. Soonyoung did not smile or agree with you. His expression was grim and he seemed uncomfortable. .

"Ah; the new Duke and Duchess of Graham!" the Earl Harrison greeted you loudly. You forced a smile. He was a disgusting man with a reputation for sleeping with his servants, and you had no respect for him. 

"Earl Harrison," you replied politely. 

"We had the pleasure of hunting with your husband just yesterday. Rather unfortunate that you did not enquire whether he could handle a shotgun before you married him!"

You felt Soonyoung stiffen beside you and gave the Earl a sharp look. 

"I did not consider proficiency with a shotgun to be one of my primary requirements in a husband, sir," you replied coolly. 

The Earl raised an eyebrow. "Indeed? Well, it leaves one to wonder…"

"Wonder what, exactly?" you demanded. 

"Why you married him, of course."

You felt a burst of irritation. You were normally much better at controlling your anger and keeping calm, but the Earl's snide remarks about Soonyoung wound you up more than they should have. Your jaw clenched but before you could respond, the Viscount and Viscountess inserted themselves into the conversation. 

"Earl Harrison!" the Viscountess said with a kind smile. "You must allow the Viscount to show you his new hunting rifles in the gallery. Perhaps you would be interested as well, Your Grace?"

You were furious but the Viscountess was the master of smoothing things over. She quickly ushered the gentlemen into the gallery to look at the rifles, and then took your arm and pulled you aside.

"Are you all right?" the Viscountess asked you gently. 

You nodded. "Thank you."

She sighed. "I am afraid Earl Harrison forcefully wrested an invitation to tonight's dinner from Joshua yesterday. I did not want to invite him at all, especially after I heard what he was  saying about you and the Duke during the hunting trip."

You stiffened. "What has he been saying about myself and the Duke?"

The Viscountess looked upset. "Nothing of any substance, only some nasty remarks about why you might have married the Duke. It's all baseless, really, everyone knows that-"

"Has he been saying these things in front of the Duke?"

The Viscountess bit her lip. "I do not know."

"I want to know what he is saying."

She sighed. "I am really not sure that you do…"

The Viscountess was a lovely woman, and the last thing you wanted was to create a scene in her home. But you were angry; you needed to know what this foolish Earl was running his mouth about. You had tolerated his insults long enough, and you would not allow him to insult your husband as well. 

You went into the gallery where a number of gentlemen were gathered looking at the Viscount's new hunting rifles. Earl Harrison was standing a short distance away and talking to the Duke of Kent. He made no attempt to even lower his voice. 

"-women have too much power these days, I tell you. Outrageous that the Duchess should have been given a title at all. That calculating wench knew that if she married one of us, she would be put in her rightful place immediately. So what does she do? Marries a poor man without connections or a fortune so that she can control him like a puppet!"

The Duke of Kent laughed. "Naturally, naturally. She wanted a young man she could keep under her thumb. The poor Duke does not realise she is emasculating him entirely. Pathetic excuse for a man."

You saw red. 

How dare they? How dare these disgusting men stand there and say these vile things about you and your husband in public? Had they said similar things within earshot of Soonyoung?The thought made your blood boil 

"Would you like to repeat that so that I can be sure what you are saying?" you demanded loudly. 

The room fell silent. All conversation ceased. 

Soonyoung and the Viscount Hong were standing a few feet away, and you saw your husband watching you with wide eyes. 

"W-what?" Earl Harrison sputtered. 

"I asked if you would like to repeat yourself," you said coldly. "Surely I must have misheard you. Surely you could not have been standing here and openly insulting the Duke and Duchess of Graham, who outrank you in every possible way. That would be a very foolish thing to do, don't you agree?"

The Duke of Kent smiled abominably. "My dear Duchess, you must not go into hysterics-"

"Then perhaps your and the Earl should avoid giving me reason to go into hysterics, Your Grace. Or have you forgotten who is the Queen's close confidante? Who receives letters and invitations to tea from Her Majesty personally? Allow me to refresh your memory, Earl Harrison. It is certainly not you or your stupid wife."

The Earl paled. "I have never had a woman dare to speak to me this way-'

"You do not want to make an enemy of me, Earl Harrison. I will not waste my time with backhanded gossip and failed petitions to the Crown. One word from me can persuade Her Majesty to strip you of your entire title and estate in a heartbeat. I will undo your generations-long lineage in an instant. Do not test me."

The Duke of Kent frowned. "That is quite enough!"

"I agree," you replied sharply. "I have had quite enough. My husband is a hundred times the man you will ever be, and the next time you worry about anyone being emasculated, you would do well to remember that a woman is in charge of the Crown and your life."

Soonyoung was staring at you with wide eyes,  as you walked over to him and took his arm. 

"We are leaving," you said firmly. The rest of the room watched in stunned silence. "I apologise for the intrusion, Viscount and Viscountess Hong. Thank you for your hospitality."

You took your husband's arm and walked out. 

—----------------------------------------------

Soonyoung said nothing in the carriage ride home. 

You could not speak either; the adrenaline was still pumping in your veins. You had never addressed anyone in that manner, much less an Earl and a Duke. They had said worse things about you in the past, you were sure, and it had not made you angry. But the idea of them saying these things about Soonyoung made your blood boil. 

"Perhaps we should go to bed early," Soonyoung mumbled as he left straight for his bedchambers. You had never seen him look so tired and withdrawn. 

You followed him upstairs to his bedchamber and called out to him just as he was about to slip inside and close the door behind him. 

"Soonyoung, wait."

"I'm tired-"

"Please don't close the door."

There was a long pause and he finally opened the door again, allowing you inside. You took a deep breath and entered, sitting on the edge of his bed as you thought about what to say to him. Soonyoung stood patiently near the door and watched you for a long moment before finally speaking. 

"It's all right," he said quietly. "You don't need to worry, Your Grace."

You blinked at him. "What?"

"I knew this was a marriage of convenience. You were always honest with me. I would be a fool if I resented you for it just because some Earl said it aloud. I knew perfectly well what this marriage was when I agreed to it."

Your heart dropped. 

"Soonyoung, no-"

"I know you were in a difficult position, and you needed to marry someone who would not dare to exercise power over you or the dukedom. It is a rational decision to make."

Your throat felt tight. 

"Don't call it that-"

"I am saying it is perfectly understandable and rational-"

"But it's not!" you cried. You rose and stood in front of him, grabbing his cold hands. For some reason you suddenly, desperately needed Soonyoung to understand what you were telling him. "Rational?  Choosing you was not a rational decision, Soonyoung. Far from it; it was possibly the least rational thing I have ever done in my life."

Soonyoung's hands were limp in yours but his dark eyes flashed. 

"What do you mean?" he asked. 

You took a deep breath and looked up at your husband. You had not expected to open up to him, or to reveal your vulnerabilities to him tonight, but it was now or never. 

"It was an impulse, pure impulse. I was so tired of always doing the right thing, the expected thing. If I was being rational then I would have married a Baron or a Lord. Heaven knows there are plenty of them to be had."

Soonyoung was quiet. "Why didn't you?'

"The night we met- at the ball when we danced- I know it was only a few moments but  you made me smile. I felt happy with you. For the first time in my life, I felt something that wasn’t just duty or obligation or responsibility. I felt like this nightmare of a life might be bearable if I could share it with someone like you," you confessed quietly. 

Soonyoung's expression had softened and his dark eyes looked down at you with a sudden gentleness and vulnerability. 

"But we hardly knew each other-"

"Which is why it wasn't a rational or calculated decision. The decision to marry you wasn't made for the good of the dukedom or the title. I made it for the most selfish of reasons- my own happiness. It was worse than irrational. It was a rebellion against everything my father expected from me."

Soonyoung's lower lip trembled. "You must have regretted it, then."

"I thought I might," you admitted shakily. "For the first few weeks after I proposed to you, I was terrified that I was making a mistake. But Soonyoung… you never gave me a single chance to regret it. At every turn, you only showed me, over and over again, that I made the right choice."

"Do you mean that?"

You lifted your hand to cup his cheek. 

"I love you," you told him firmly and honestly. 

Soonyoung kissed you. It was a soft, gentle, loving kiss and you wrapped your arms around his neck as he pulled you into his warm embrace. You gasped against his lips and he slowly pulled back and pressed his forehead against yours. 

"I love you too," he whispered. 

Your heart swelled with happiness. "Do you mean it?" you asked him softly. "Just moments ago, you were calling this a marriage of convenience-"

Soonyoung's lips curved into a smile as he cupped your cheeks. 

"Because I thought you felt that way. How could I not love you? You are a divine angel that came into my life. Some days I wake up and look at you beside me and think that I must be in some kind of dream, because I don't know what I did to deserve your love and trust."

Your lower lip trembled. "That's not true-"

"It is. I love you."

You wrapped your arms around his neck tightly and buried your face into his shoulders. Soonyoung embraced you and you breathed in your husband's warm, familiar scent.

"Then don't ever close that door again."”

"I won't," he promised. "I won't."

—------------------------------------------------------

#seventeen scenarios #seventeen fluff #hoshi scenarios #seventeen x reader #hoshi x reader #seventeen fanfiction #seventeen angst #hoshi fluff #regency!au #seventeen imagines

[ambrossart]

DANCING WITH MYSELF

— PART ONE

summary: eddie crashes senior prom hoping to steal a dance with his dream girl, chrissy cunningham. instead, he spends the night stuck in the women’s restroom with you—her snarky, insecure best friend. ❖ pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader ❖ word count: 2,489 ❖ genre: fluff with some angst ❖ series status: complete ❖ warnings: no season 4 spoilers, some coarse language, body image issues, allusions to eating disorders, typical teenage insecurities, angst, jealousy, anxiety, secret crushes, childhood memories, happy ending, lots of 80s music one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight | nine | ten

You were more than a little caught off guard when Chance Gallagher asked you to the senior prom.

Chance was popular, Chance was on the basketball team, and you were just Chrissy Cunningham's snarky best friend. The "bitchy" one—yeah, that was your identifier (so that you wouldn't be confused with her other, much perkier friends). You were confident that ninety percent of the student body had no idea what your actual name was. To them, you were simply Chrissy Cunningham's Bitchy Best Friend. Depressing as that was, it was an enormous step up from constantly being referred to as her "chubby" best friend. All that dieting must have finally paid off.

Needless to say, you were a little skeptical when Chance Gallagher, dressed in his green letterman jacket, showed up at your locker six weeks before the big night.

He swung by and said, "Hey, you..."

In hindsight, that should have been your first clue that this was going to end in disaster. Hey, you? Come on, the boy clearly didn't know your name. But at the time, you weren't thinking about that. No, you were too busy admiring his long dark hair, those deep-set brown eyes, and that shy, crooked smile that slowly crept up the side of his face...

"Hi," you said back, and you thought your voice sounded oddly high-pitched for some reason, like Minnie Mouse. You had to clear your throat and try again. "Hey, uhh, what's up?"

"Nothin' much." Chance paused and ran his hand through his hair. Shamelessly, you watched him do it, and you caught yourself wondering if his hair was as soft as it looked. It probably was.

"I was just thinking," he went on, "you know, about prom coming up..."

You retreated into sarcasm. "Oh, is prom coming up?"

"Uh... yes?" Chance cocked his head, looking so confused.

You winced. "Sorry, just ignore me. So, what about prom?"

"Well, I was wondering if anyone asked you yet."

You squinted at him for a second, thinking, Seriously? "Uhh, no, no one's asked me yet."

"Good," said Chance, nodding and smiling, and you stood there, thinking, Wow, those are some white teeth.

Then, while you were distracted by those white teeth, he snuck in a quick: "So you wanna go, then?"

You blinked slowly. Once. Twice. "I'm sorry... what?"

"I'm asking if—"

"You're asking me to prom?"

"Well, I'm trying to, but you're making it kinda difficult."

"Well, I'm a difficult person," you said under your breath. Then: "Wait a minute, is this like a Taming of the Shrew scenario? Is there a Bianca somewhere in this?"

Chance's brow furrowed. "Taming of the what?"

"The shrew."

"What's a shrew?"

"Well, it's actually a small, mouse-like animal, but it's also the word for an ill-tempered woman, which is the definition I'm referring to—not the mouse, obviously; although I could see the mouse making sense too, you know, within a different context... Anyway, The Taming of the Shrew is a Shakespearean comedy. We read it in English last week. We took turns playing the parts... well, not me, I mostly just read the stage directions. See, I've got a thing about public speaking and, you know, speaking in general..."

"Really? 'Cause you seem pretty good at it." Chance was smiling at you.

And now you were smiling back... and laughing, too. It was a colorful laugh that burst out of your chest like confetti out of a New Year's Eve popper.

"That was a good joke," you said. "I liked that."

Silence. Heavy and awkward.

Chance broke it. "So... is that a yes to prom? Or do I need to leave, come back, and start this process all over again?"

You laughed again, but this one made your chest hurt a little.

Your gut reaction was to say, Yes, absolutely! but you never listened to your gut. You listened to the small voice in your head, the one currently showing you all the possible worst-case scenarios on a teeny tiny projector: frame after frame after frame. This is a bad idea. This is a terrible idea. You should just say no right now and save yourself the embarrassment.

But then you heard Chrissy's voice in your head, that sweet Disney princess voice. You know you're the only one getting in your way, right? Stop sabotaging yourself. You would be so much happier if you would stop shutting everyone out. Just open up a little, let people in, and I promise they'll think you're amazing, just like I do... and then I'm gonna have to tell them all to back off because you're my best friend. I found you first. 

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. "Okay, look, at the risk of making this all blow up in my face, can just I ask why? Why do you wanna go to prom with me, Chance? I mean, sure, we sit at the same lunch table, and yeah, you're friends with Jason and I'm friends with Chrissy, but we've never spoken a word to each other... so why?"

Chance shrugged. "Because I want to? Because I think we'd have a good time? Do I need another reason?"

You bit down on your lip. That wasn't the answer you were hoping for, but then again, maybe that was just your anxiety talking. You shook all those ugly thoughts away and said, "Okay."

Chance took a step back, seeming delightfully surprised. "Okay?"

"Okay... yes, I'll go to prom with you." And you felt a little like Sissy Spacek in the movie Carrie.

Was this your Tommy Ross?

Oh, hopefully he doesn't die...

Chance pumped his fist. "Well, all right!" And for a second, you thought he was going to give you a high five or a slap on the back. Instead, he backed away slowly, heading toward his own locker. "This will be great. Yeah, I'm really looking forward to this."

"Me too," you said.

And that was the problem. You started looking forward to it. You started getting excited about it. Daydreaming about it. Flipping through magazines and dog-earing your favorite pages, because suddenly you had favorite pages. And that's why you were absolutely gutted when Chance called you up six hours before prom and said he couldn't make it.

With just five words, all your prom plans went up in flames.

"Food poisoning? Are you kidding me right now?" You were sitting on your bed with the phone pressed against your ear. It almost slipped out of your grasp when you first heard the news. "Can't you, like, take some Pepto-Bismol or something?"

"Seriously?"

"No, not seriously, Chance. I'm not a monster." You let out an angry huff and switched the phone to your opposite ear. "What am I supposed to do now? I bought tickets and a dress and some really, really painful heels." You had even practiced walking in those painful heels so that you wouldn't look stupid—or worse, trip and fall on your face in front of everyone. "There's gonna be pictures and dinner and a frickin' limo... Oh my god, I'm gonna be the only one there without a date!"

"I know... I'm so sorry."

"Well, great, can I bring your 'sorry' with me to prom? Can I pose next to it during pictures?" You swallowed hard, feeling the sharp sting of oncoming tears. You lowered the phone to your shoulder (while Chance continued to utter apology after apology) and squeezed your eyes shut before a single one could escape. 

After a minute, you heard Chance say, "You still there?"

You brought the phone back to your ear. "Yeah," you said, and wiped your runny nose on your wrist. "Look, don't worry about me, okay? I'll, uhh, I'll figure something out."

"Yeah, okay... And, hey, I'm really, really sorry." 

"Yeah, I know," you said, numbing yourself to it. "Anyway, I'm gonna go. Uhh, feel better, okay?"

You slammed the phone down before he could say goodbye. Then you saw the stack of magazines on your nightstand. And the pink shoebox on the floor. You buried your face in your hands and had yourself a good five-minute cry before picking the phone back up and frantically dialing Chrissy's number.

She answered in a chirpy voice: "Hello, hello... Cunningham residence."

"He's not coming!" you blurted out in a stuffy, near-to-tears voice.

"What? What do you mean, he's not coming?"

"Food poisoning! He got food poisoning!"

"He got food poisoning? Oh, no..."

"Yeah. That's just my luck, right? I just spent three hundred dollars for nothing."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, obviously I can't go now..."

"What? But you have to go!"

"Chris, I can't—"

"No, Y/N, you have to go! This is the senior prom. This is supposed to be our special night."

You rolled your eyes. "Pretty sure Jason thinks it's his special night."

"Well, he's wrong," Chrissy said, and stifled a laugh. "Come on, you didn't go to junior prom, and that was fine, but this is the senior prom, our last prom, and I wanna spend it with my best friend. I want us to go get our hair and makeup done, and put on these outrageous, obnoxious dresses, and go make asses of ourselves on that dance floor. That way, when I'm old and wrinkly, I can look back on this moment and think, Wow... I so peaked in high school."

You both laughed. Despite the tears, you laughed.

"Yeah," you said, "I want that, too... but I don't have a date, Chris."

"So what? You can come with me and Jason."

"Oh, the third wheel. Yeah, I bet your boyfriend would love that."

"He won't mind. And if he does, screw him. We'll leave his ass at home and go to prom together. Deal?"

You smiled and dabbed your eyes dry with your sleeve. "Deal."

Overjoyed, Chrissy squealed so loud you had to pull the phone away from your ear. "Now, hurry up and get your butt over here, pretty lady! Our appointment's in an hour."

"Fine, fine..."

You said your goodbyes and hung up. That's when the dread finally set in, twisting your stomach into one giant pretzel. "Food poisoning, huh? Boy, is he lucky." You rolled onto your back and stared at the ceiling for what felt like forever.

"I'm calling it now: this is gonna be the worst night of my life."

Three streets down, Gareth Lozinski’s garage was exploding with the thrashing chords of heavy metal. 

Corroded Coffin was currently six songs deep into their ten-song set list (a tribute to all their favorite metal bands), which would eventually get whittled down to just five songs. Any more than that and the manager of The Hideout would pull the plug on them. That happened last Tuesday, after Eddie Munson tried to sneak in a second Iron Maiden song when he thought the manager had stepped outside for a smoke break. They were only six bars in when their mics and amps suddenly died. Eddie, lost in the music, played another eight bars before he realized what had happened. 

“Boo,” he said into the dead mic; then he strummed an angry riff and walked off the stage. 

The band took a short break after Black Sabbath’s “Paranoid” so that Gareth could help his mother carry in the groceries. Mrs. Lozinski made a comment about their playing, said they were “really coming along” because she didn’t know what else to say. Gareth’s little sister was more succinct with her feedback. She skipped past the open garage with a paper bag full of fruit and said, “No, you guys still suck.” 

Five minutes later, Gareth returned with half a turkey sandwich, sat down behind his drum set, and played the majority of Motörhead’s “Ace of Spades” with the sandwich hanging out of his mouth. He wolfed the rest down during Eddie’s excessively long guitar solo.  

Just when you thought he was done, the guy kept on going…

These rehearsals usually carried on well into the evening. Gareth’s family sat down to dinner at around six-thirty, and they didn’t appreciate the unique ambiance of Eddie Munson’s screaming guitar, so that’s when the band typically called it quits. 

Today, however, was no typical day. Today was the senior prom. 

Jeff was the first one to unstrap his guitar. “All right, guys, I’m outta here.” 

Gareth, a junior who had yet to experience prom, said, “Dude, it’s only three. Prom doesn’t start for another four hours.” 

“Yeah, but Tara’s parents wanna take pictures, and my parents wanna take pictures, and then we gotta go to dinner… It’s a whole event.” 

Grant heard that and unstrapped as well. “Yeah, shit, I better get going, too.” 

Meanwhile, Eddie Munson was staring off into space and silently strumming his guitar, trying to work out some of Motörhead’s trickier chord progressions in his head. He stopped momentarily when he felt Jeff’s hand on his shoulder. 

Jeff said, “Hey, good luck tonight, man.” 

The corner of Eddie’s mouth raised into a lazy smile. “Thanks, man. See ya.” Then he bent his head and went back to strumming, his left hand fingering the beginning chords of Dio’s “The Last in Line.” 

Gareth put down his drumsticks and stood up. “You’re really going through with this, huh?” 

“Mhm,” said Eddie, only half listening. 

Gareth shook his head, utterly dumbfounded by his friend’s reckless determination. “You’re crazy, man. What makes you think Chrissy Cunningham’s gonna wanna dance with you?” 

Eddie’s fingers slowed and eventually stopped, those final chords lingering for a moment… then drifting away.

“Because this is my year, man.” Eddie was confident, but not arrogantly so. He simply believed his words to be true. “I’m telling you, all the stars are aligning for me. As long as I don’t blow Ms. O’Donall’s English final, and I don’t plan on blowing her English final, I’m gonna be out those doors and onto better things. Now all that’s left to do is steal a dance with my dream girl.” 

“Yeah… that sounds great and all, man, but this is Chrissy Cunningham we’re talking about. There’s no way she’s gonna dance with someone like you, especially not at prom.” 

“Really? I think she will, and especially because it’s prom.” 

Because Chrissy Cunningham wasn’t like the other popular girls. She wasn’t vain or pretentious. She didn’t strut around school like a princess amongst peasants. No, Chrissy Cunningham was something special, a very rare diamond in a pit of precious stones.

And tonight, for at least one song, she was going to be his. 

Eddie unstrapped his guitar and carried it over to its case. “Gareth my good man… Gareth the Good, Gareth the Great… I think tonight might be the best night of my life.” He smiled on his way out. “Wish me luck, buddy.”

“Good luck,” Gareth said, and watched him go. “Boy, he’s gonna need it.”

______________

CURRENT // NEXT

#stranger things #stranger things 4 #eddie munson #fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson imagine #chrissy cunningham #jason carver #chrissy x jason #chrissy x eddie #hellfire club #st4 #ambrossart #just me using fanfiction as therapy for all my high school trauma #dancing with myself #dwm #fanfiction

[jackharlou]

Letters

Concept: your daughter finds the letters you and jack sent each other years ago, the ones you thought you had lost.

"how was school today, lele?" - jack asked leah, your eight year old daughter. she wasn't his. you two got together when she was just three years old, but since day one he likes to say she is his daughter, and right from the second she understood jack wasn't her dad, she decided that blood didn't matter and that he was in fact her dad, and according to her, the best in the world.

"it was good. i got the highest grade on an essay ms. carrie made us write" - she said after placing her backpack on the couch and following her dad to the kitchen, where you were finishing lunch while bouncing your five months old daughter, emma - "hi, mommy" - she hugged your waist and then grabbed her baby sister's little foot and smelled it - "hi, little stinky"

"what was the essay about?" - jack asked her, following the conversation they were having, after standing next to you to kiss your lips and your baby's head.

"she asked us about what we wanna be and do when we grow up and then made us read it for the class"

"and what did you write about? was it about you wanting to be an astronaut?" - you asked.

"nah, i don't wanna be an astronaut anymore. i realized it'd be too lonely and i don't think i can bring you guys with me. i want to be a poet, just like you guys"

you and jack shared a look, then looked at her confused - "poets? honey, i'm a dentist and your dad writes stuffs, yes, but it isn't poetry"

"i found some letters from each other in the basement and i thought they were that" - now everyone was confused.

"well, you can read that essay for us after we eat lunch, now help me set the table" - jack and leah went to did as you told them.

an hour later, when you all finished cleaning the table and the kitchen, you went to the living room to rest.

"do you mind reading your essay to us, baby?" - you asked her, curious about what she wrote.

she quickly got up and went to grab her notepad from her backpack. she sat across from you and started reading.

"a little over a month ago mommy asked me to go down to the basement to look for something, don't ask me what it was since i don't remember, but while looking for that forgotten thing i found a box full of letters and little notes. i grabbed the box and took it to my room and then went back to mommy. later that night, after mommy and daddy kissed me goodnight, i stayed up for a little longer reading some of the letters. they were from when mommy started dating daddy. i wish i could read them all to you, but for now you'll have to believe me when i say that all those little papers are the most beautiful forms of love you can see and read, at least to me they are. they told each other about how much they liked each other, then with time they said "i love you" for the first time, then some things happened and they were having some sort of issues but they made it through and kept going. i know it doesn't make much sense since you can't read them, but I've decided since I've read them that i want to be a poet. i want to make people feel things through my words. i want to have a love so pure that it inspires me to write the most beautiful things. i want to be loved like my dad loves my mom. i want to have a family of my own like the one my mommy gave me when she decided to love my dad. i want to be loved and happy enough to write it down like my mom and dad did..."

when she finished reading, you looked jack in the eyes and saw you weren't the only one tearing up.

"honey, you still have those?" - jack asked you.

"apparently i do. i thought i lost them when we moved"

"they were buried inside a huge box filled with books" - she said before running upstairs and coming back a few seconds later with the box between her hands.

"can i read you my favorite ones?" - she asked happily. you two only nodded.

she grabbed a piece of paper that looked like it had been to war and back.

"... remember how you jokingly said you would make me miss you while being on the road? i hate you for it, but i do; i do miss you. the only times i don't miss you are when leah needs me and i have to focus on her. i would say that i don't miss you when i'm asleep but that would be a lie because i even see you in my dreams and i hate it because i don't want to fall for you. i hate to admit it but i'm scared. i'm scared of you making us love you and then leaving and not coming back. i'm scared of leah growing attached to you because you're young, i don't think you're ready to be a dad, specially of a girl who isn't your blood but god, i can't stop looking and smiling when she sees you and runs to you. i can't stop smiling and tearing up at the thousands of photos and videos i have of you two playing or just sleeping together.

i'm scared, jackman. i'm scared at how much i'm missing you"

"I tracked the dates and found dad's response letter" - leah said putting down the letter and grabbed a paper that looked much better than the previous one.

"i wasn't joking. i was making fun of you just to hide that i was going to miss you too and oh baby, i thought it was going to be hard, yes, but i didn't imagine it would be this heavy on me. i have never missed anyone like this. i think it is because i left my parents home at a young age. i became independent very quickly and harshly. i was on the road all the time so I didn't have a home, just places where i was living in, but now i do. i have a home in you. is it too fast? yes? no? maybe? who cares? i don't want to be with anyone else. i want to come back home and hold you, rock lele to sleep. you two are my home. i'm scared too, because my work life isn't easy and i don't want that affecting you or lele, but i have to work hard so i'm able to provide for you two. you deserve the best things and i'm working in every way to give you that. to be that.

i don't know if lele is attached to me, but i sure know i'm attached to her. i don't want a life without that girl. she makes everything better, brighter and when i think about coming back to you, i think about coming back to her too.

don't ever stop missing me because i won't ever stop missing you.

missing something or someone is a good thing, and it means a lot.

and you two mean a lot to me, baby."

you looked at jack with teary eyes and with a smile on your face - "i went to visit him for the weekend while you stayed with your grandma and i left him that note on his bed" - you added a background story for her.

"yeah, i dropped her at the airport and when i came back i found it. i read it a couple of times a day, that's why it looks so ugly. then when I arrived to the next city, the first thing i did was sending her a response"

"oh, i love this one too" - leah carefully folded the previous pieces of paper she had in her hands and grabbed another one.

"... last night i was putting leah to sleep and she started crying for you. she wanted you to sing for her, i tried but apparently i'm not good enough of a singer for my baby, but i guess that's what happens when you date a professional singer. she's getting used to you and so is her mommy, because i had a hard time sleeping too"

she folded the paper after reading it and grabbed his response to it.

"i'm sorry to break it down for you, mama, but you aren't that good of a singer, but it's ok, you can't be a good mom, a good student and a good singer. that would embarrass the rest of us.

i need to come up with some lullabies because my songs aren't made for kids. i'll start working on that, lele, i promise.

pd; so, are you dating a professional singer? good for you, girl. is he good looking?"

"you know that song he sings to emmy?" - you asked her, making her nod - "dad wrote that for you after he sent that letter. you could only fall asleep to it, so i had to play it for you every single night"

"your mom was jealous" - jack said, laughing with your daughter.

"i sort of was. it was so hard putting you to sleep and he made it seem so easy every time"

"out of them all, this one is my favorite" - leah said before starting a new one.

"i'm literally writing this right next to you. you two look so beautiful and at peace while sleeping so i'm sitting on the floor while writing this. we're at the beach, lele's first time at the beach, and i can't express how happy i feel right now.

the way she gets so happy while watching the sand fall through her little fingers. how much fun she has while running away from the water so the waves can't catch her. her attempts to build a sand castle...

it makes me think about the future. i want to be there for her first times her entire life.

i want to be there when she starts school. i want to be first concert she attends to. i want to be at her graduation. i want to see her become a woman, a professional. i want to see her fall in love, get excited over dates, but for that i want to give her the example of how a woman should be treated.

i want her to think of you and think that her mom is truly loved. i want her to see our relationship, get inspired and aim for something like it.

i want to take care of you. i want to be here for you. i want to be here for you two.

what i'm trying to say is; if you give me the honor of spending the rest of your life with me, i would make sure you two are happy, loved, taken care of.

So, would you marry me?"

"that's the last one i found, so i don't know how that went" - she said a little upset.

"i woke up, confused because he wasn't there. i got up and kissed your forehead, when i did i noticed the piece of paper besides you. i took it and read it. as soon as i finished reading it you wake up, so I had to get you ready first. i was excited and tearing up. i literally ran with you in my arms. i got to the front desk of the hotel and asked for a pen and a piece of paper. he had texted me saying he was waiting for us at the restaurant to have dinner. i went there and saw him sitting at a table on his own, while using his phone. i asked a waitress to bring him the little paper and when he got it, he stood and started looking for us. i walked towards him, he snatched you from my arms and held me so tight"

"and i have never let go since then" - jack murmured while grabbing your hand and kissing the back of it, close to where your rings have been for years now. he stood and made you follow him to his studio - "look at that" - he told leah.

she looked up at the little frame hanging on the wall, and there it was. the little note with the name and logo of the hotel and a messy "i do" written on it.

#this came out of nowhere #so it's really shitty ik #but i hope is some sort of coming back(? #jack harlow #jack harlow imagine #jack harlow fic #jack harlow blurb #jack harlow fluff #jack harlow x reader

[esthermitchell-author]

I Promise...

I promise, promise promise I am almost done with my explicit version of Born of Starlight. I'm just having trouble with this last scene.

In the meantime... This isn't exactly "explicit" but it's one of the scenes I've added that's a little more spicy near the beginning of the book. I might just add this (or part of it, anyway) into both versions of the book. We'll see.

In the meantime... Enjoy! (As always, let me know what you think. Is there something I should change or tone down? Does something not read right? I'm always interested in feedback to help improve things)... And, as always, the story part's below the cut.

Crowley drew a deep breath as he stepped inside the bookshop for the first time in eight months, and blinked in surprise to find it smelled exactly the same as it always had. Like old books, printer's ink, and bergamot, tinged with just a trace of starlight. It smelled, in a word, like Aziraphale.

"Feels like home, doesn't it?" The soft query, from beside him, zapped through Crowley like lightning.

Did it feel like home? Maybe... But no. No, the place didn't feel like home. That title belonged solely to the being at his side, one soft, warm hand currently resting on his bicep.

Turning, he lifted his hand and did what he hadn't dared do in eighty-three years. He laid his hand very gently against his angel's neck, letting his thumb brush back-and-forth over one cheek. He nearly groaned at the feel of that skin -- even softer than he remembered -- and his knees quaked with the desire to drop to the floor right there and beg his angel for even just one night. One night of pure, hedonistic pleasure. One night of giving in to every carnal desire he could think of, had ever witnessed and wondered if his angel would like something like that. Only...

Only, he already knew one night would never be enough. Wasn't that why -- aside from the fact they were both too drunk at the time -- he'd ultimately backed off, in 1941? Even just that one kiss had taught him that when it came to his angel, even eternity would never be enough. And Crowley wasn't quite sure he was worthy of even a night.

Aziraphale released a small breath, scented with the sweetness of the peppermint tea he drank during their meeting, and those pale blond lashes fluttered over cerulean eyes so hazy with desire, the angel looked almost drunk. "Anthony, I want... I need..."

The confusion in Aziraphale's eyes finally broke Crowley. With a small, muttered oath he wasn't even sure he said aloud, he crushed his mouth down over the soft lips he'd been trying not to dream about for eight months, and for eighty-two years before that. There was a small sound from Aziraphale -- maybe surprise, maybe relief. Definitely not protest -- before the angel melted against him, shaking hands latching onto fistfuls of his clothing as if Aziraphale was afraid he might disappear.

No fear of that ever happening. As long as Aziraphale let him stay, Crowley intended to be right here in this bookshop, waiting. He'd had enough of trying to avoid the truth.

For now, Crowley ate up every whimper, glutted himself on every gasp and sound his angel made. Then, on a whispered groan torn from both of them, they broke apart. Crowley rested his forehead against Aziraphale's, unwilling to move any further apart.

A soft, breathless chuckle left the angel, bringing the demon's eyes open to a sight that nearly dropped him where he stood. Pure love radiated from the angel in his arms, even as Aziraphale released his grasp on Crowley's shirt and reached up to gently remove the demon's shades with a murmured, "I thought someone promised me he'd never kiss me again while he was wearing these. That's two you owe me."

Huffing out a small laugh of his own, Crowley snagged the glasses from Aziraphale's hands and tucked them into his blazer pocket, even as a heated smirk crossed his face. "Does that apply to anywhere specific?"

Aziraphale blinked at him in confusion. "You mean outside? But we've never--"

"I meant," Crowley murmured, shifting to nuzzle his face in against his angel's neck, flicking out his tongue to trace the subtle wrinkles and folds there, getting a taste of the skin he'd been going crazy fantasizing about for decades. Aziraphale's scent -- beneath that ridiculous cologne some idiot human talked him into -- had been driving him crazy for... well, probably millennia, if he really stopped and thought about it, but definitely since 1941. "Does that rule only apply to your mouth?"

Aziraphale trembled in his arms. Actually fucking trembled. "I... I'm sure I don't know what you mean."

Crowley lifted his head, searching his angel's expression for any hint he was up to some game. The guileless innocence staring back at him shouldn't have surprised him as much as it did, he supposed. Except... Aziraphale was a reader, and he didn't discriminate in his reading material. Surely, in amongst all the books around them, was one or two books on sex. Maybe even some erotic literature...

He swallowed hard as he realized just how innocent his angel really was. "You're serious? You've never..."

Aziraphale flushed, and the tight quiver of his jaw as he glanced away was a clear message he wasn't just embarrassed. Something about that question was crushing to his angel. He looked ready to...

"Don't cry, angel. Please, don't cry." Panic stuttered through Crowley. "I didn't mean it like that. I'm sorry."

"We can't all be beautiful beings desired by everyone and willing to bed anyone."

The words were short and sharp, like a stiletto straight to Crowley's heart. Anger welled up inside him. He was done with miscommunication and arguments that ended up with them being at odds for bloody months at a time.

"There are so many things wrong with that, angel, I don't even know where to fucking start. First, no matter what you think of me, I haven't bloody spent the last six thousand years hopping from bed to bed, for Satan's sake. Yeah, I'm the bloody Serpent of Eden, the Great-fucking-Tempter. But I tempt them to do each other, not me. I've never bloody done this before, either. I've just seen enough of it to know the mechanics. I figured... Oh, for fuck's sake, you're the most brilliant being I've ever known, and you read like literally every-fucking-thing, angel! I figured somewhere over the millennia, you had to have read some of that erotic fiction shit. I figured you at least knew as much as me. And second, who the bloody Heaven has been telling you you're not beautiful, or fucking desirable? Do you even know what I'd give to have you?"

Crowley stopped, his breath heaving as he fought the trembling combination of rage and need forming a tight knot in the center of his being. That was the most he'd allowed himself to say in eight fucking months. The most vulnerable and blunt he'd ever allowed himself to be, to anyone. He really wanted to put his shades back on, because he couldn't even bear to look at Aziraphale, right now. Yet, he couldn't tear his gaze away from the angel's beautiful face, those heart-stopping eyes, as radiant joy and love beamed from Aziraphale.

A soft smile flickered at the angel's lips, and he stretched out a hand to lay against the center of Crowley's chest, right above his thundering heart. Crowley could feel the tremble of that warm weight against his chest, and it grounded him, even before the flow of the voice that always soothed him washed over him.

"What would you give?" Aziraphale whispered, his voice full of wonder.

A hissing growl ripped from Crowley, the beautiful violence of the storm within him freed as he snagged his angel by the shoulders and pinned him against one of the pillars. Yanking the angel's bowtie loose and off, he flung it away as he attacked Aziraphale's throat with nipping kisses he fully intended to leave marks. Against the soft, tantalizing flesh, he hissed, "Everything. I would give fucking everything to have you."

A gasp from behind them broke them apart, and it was only then Crowley remembered they weren't alone here, anymore. He swore under his breath, even as Aziraphale flushed and eased away from him like he was trying to pretend they weren't halfway to ripping each other's clothes off.

#Keep calm and ❤️on! 🐍🪽❤️ #good omens #good omens fandom #aziracrow #ineffable husbands #aziraphale #aziraphale x crowley #crowley #azicrow #ineffable spouses #fanfic #good omens fanfic #good omens fanfiction #born of starlight #gomens fanfic #gomens fandom #go fanfic #go fandom #good omens BARELY suitable for work 😏😉

[tired-teacher-blog]

Here you go sweetie so I hope you enjoy it.

Title : Home

Characters : Bakugo/ Fem reader

Genre : NSFW/ +18/ Fluff

Summary : You come home after spending a long time away on a mission, and it's up to Katsuki to take care of you.

Please do not read if you're a minor

Masterlist

It's been a while, a month and a half to be exact.

You missed home, you missed your friends, and most of all, you missed him.

You've been gone on a mission abroad with three other heroes from your agency, leaving everything behind for the sake of justice. It's fine, it's what you're trained for and what you love to do, your only regret is being away from the person you love the most.

You did talk on the phone every chance you got, but it was never enough.

So when the day to return home came at last, you were barely able contain your excitement.

It was almost eight o'clock in the evening when you let out a tired smile as you stood at the front door, suitcase in hand. You pulled out your keys, opened the door and walked in as quietly as you possibly could.

You expected to find him asleep, his strict schedule never changes even during his well deserved days off.

_ "Babe, you're home!" You were wrong, your man was still wide awake.

He flew to your side enveloping you in his arms as his kisses covered every spot on your face.

_ "I'm home." You uttered between giggles "I missed you so much Katsuki."

_ "I missed you too baby. How come you didn't tell me you were coming back? I would've picked you up at the airport." His eyebrows furrowed and it was the cutest sight in the world, one of the many things you missed about him.

You cradled his cheeks and brought him down to your level before planting a soft kiss between his tense eyebrows as a way to smooth them out.

_ "I wanted to surprise you, now let it go brat." You couldn't control your laughter as you spoke those last words. You wanted to tease him a little for all the times he'd called you brat or dumbass, and it seemed like a perfect opportunity to get back at him.

He returned your smile and kissed you again, pulling you by the waist.

_ "You must be tired, let me take care of you alright?" He whispered between soft pecks and you nodded impatiently.

He kneeled down, untying your shoes before taking them off your feet. You sighed in relief as you felt a bit lighter already.

_ "A shower or a bath?" He asked looking up at you with the brightest smile you've seen in a while.

_ "I'm too tired for a bath so I'll take a shower for now."

He picked you up in his arms and marched straight to your bathroom, placing you on the counter as he proceeded to remove both your clothes.

_ "Any injuries?" He sounded understandably worried. Being heroes meant baring wounds with each mission you partake, even a regular surveillance could easily turn into a tragedy.

_ "Nothing serious, just a few cuts and bruises, the usual, and most of them are fading away so it's fine." You wanted to reassure him so you stretched out and flexed your arms playfully to show him that you meant it.

It didn't work as you'd hoped it would, his pout remained as his fingers ghosted over your body, inspecting your injuries.

And as much as you hated worrying him, feeling his soft touches was all you wanted, so you allowed him to trace your delicate skin as he pleased.

He moved to the cabinet to pull out the first aid kit and immediately proceeded to disinfect the remnant of your wounds.

He got so lost in his task that you couldn't help but lean in and kiss his scrunched up nose.

He blinked in confusion and you beamed, threading your fingers through his soft unruly hair to kiss him again on the lips and finally succeed in turning his frown upside down.

_ "Stop playing around dumbass, I'm not done yet." His words held no spite though, as he soon gave in and kissed you back.

He missed you, all those days and nights without you by his side drove him insane.

He picked you up, lips still attached to yours, and carefully walked to the shower cabin.

_ "You can put me down now you know?" You enjoyed teasing him.

_ "I know shut up."

You winced when your feet touched the ground, leaning on him for support as his arms sneaked immediately around your waist holding you in place.

_ "Hey babe, easy. Are you alright?"

_ "Yeah I'm okay, it's just that my legs are a bit sore." You responded with a smile.

_ "Can you stand up? Keep holding on to me I'll do the rest." He looked anxious despite your attempts to soothe him.

You nodded, still holding his shoulders, and enjoyed the way his gentle hands lathered up and massaged your body and scalp.

Your mind wondered elsewhere, somewhere it was not supposed to be at the moment. And you didn't know if it was due to fatigue or the fact that you had been separated for a while, but your man's naked wet body, and his soft persistent touches weakened your knees.

You unintentionally let out a whine when his hands brushed over your perky tits.

_ "Honey what's the matter? Did I hurt you?" His wide eyes and puppy like expressions did it..

You shakily stood up on your tiptoes and kissed his lips, biting his lower one and hoping he would understand your intention. He did.

_ "Ugh.. babe, I'm barely able to restrict myself as it is so don't tempt me." He sighed in exasperation.

_ "Don't hold back, please." You begged, lips caressing his jaw.

_ "You're tired, and sore, I can't put more pressure on you." It took all his willpower to be able to think straight, but you're as hardheaded as he is so..

_ "I'll tell you what." He kneeled down, eyes still on yours: "If you promise to hold on, we'll do something else instead." His lips were already a hair away from your pussy.

_ "Yes!" You sounded like an excited kid receiving a new toy.

He smiled watching your reaction and gently lifted one of your legs to rest it over his shoulder before licking his way from your inner thigh to your glistening heat.

You screamed grabbing his hair. You were too backed up so you knew, it was going to be a short ride.

His tongue swirled around your clit before sucking it eagerly and groaning against it, sending a blissful vibration up your core.

_ "Katsuki.. more.." You breathed out tilting your head back and tightening your grip around his locks.

His tongue prodded your winking opening, moving deeper into you as he marveled at the way your gummy walls fluttered around him.

You opened your eyes gazing down, and the sight you were met with almost carried you to your ending..

His aroused glare studied your every movement as one of his arms held your hoisted leg, while the other worked on his raging shaft.

_ "I'm cumming.. I'm cumming.." You warned shaking uncontrollably and your leg almost gave out when his hungry laps quickened in rhyme with the hand around his cock.

_ "Together babe." He moaned against you as his seeping head signaled his upcoming release.

It didn't take much longer for the both of you to scream each other's names, reaching your awaited high..

_ "Welcome home honey." Katsuki smiled, eyeing you affectionately as he lowered your leg carefully.

You leaned into him as a response, nuzzling his heaving chest and breathing in his scent.. The scent you had missed the most, the scent of where you belong.. Home.

You had no strength to move a muscle as exhaustion finally caught up to you. He cleaned you both up again and carefully carried you to bed.

Catching up can wait until morning, because at the moment, each other's peaceful company was all you needed.

@amare-wren

#katsuki bakugo headcanons #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo x you #katsuki bakugo x y/n #katsuki bakugo smut #katsuki bakugo fluff #katsuki bakugo fanfiction #bakugou x reader #bakugou fluff #bakugo katuski x reader #bakugou x you #bakugo smut #katsuki bakugo imagine #bakugo katsuki smut #bakugo katsuki fluff #bakugo katsuki x you #bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugo x female reader #boku no hero fanfic #my hero academia fanfic #boku no hero smut #my hero academia smut

[lulutaylorsimaginarium]

The Chain

Summary: When the guys get stuck in a situation and hunted down by a drug lord. Frankie makes a call he really doesn’t want to make to the only person that can help them

Words:1740

Warnings: “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the right age to handle mature themes. We handle our own triggers with kindness and grace

AN: Mind any grammar mistakes even though the story has been checked. The author is dyslexic and it is the wonders of her brain.

THE CHAIN MASTERLIST

Part Eight

They had been back at the farm for two hours and there was still no sign of them.

It was closing into midnight, and she was starting to get worried. She went out to the front porch and sat on the front step, like that was going to make them show up quicker.

The glamour was now gone. Her hair tied up on top of her head. In a tank and jeans, wrapped in one of Sebastian’s cardigans, the one that she always made fun of him for. His old man cardigan. It smelt like him and that was all she cared about right now.

She knew it was stupid to just sit here and wait for them. It was only going to make her worry more as the seconds ticked by, but there wasn’t any other place that she wanted to be.

She had no idea how long she had been out there when she heard the front swing open and the springs of the door creek when it shut itself with a swing.

“Hey, if you’re going to be out here. You might as well have this”

She looked up and gratefully took the cup of tea out of Santiago’s hand as he sat beside her on the step.

“They should be here by now”

“They may have gotten caught up”

“But with who?”

“Listen, the gunshots were not Rojas”

“How do we know?”

“If it was Rojas and he was on to us. We wouldn’t be here”

“Geez, that’s comforting” she chuckled

“It was probably a drug deal or a mugging that went wrong. They will be here”

“I can’t believe I left them like that”

“That’s the way they would want it. Gabriela” he told her strongly “Will, included”

“That’s beside the point” she sighed “They would never have left me”

He chuckled sweetly before she looked over at him confused. She had never heard him laugh before

“Those rules are a little different with you”

“Why?”

“Because it’s you”

“That doesn’t make sense”

“To you maybe”

“Don’t be a jerk”

“I’m not” he laughed

“I think we need to keep moving. As much as I hate to say it”

“Means we’ll be in the jungle a lot longer”

“You sayin’ I can’t handle it?” she teased

“Gabriela, you know why I’m concerned”

“I’ll be fine, Santiago”

He looked over at her surprised. She had never once called him that, in all the years that they had known one another.

 

He spotted headlights up the dirt road and nodded his head in that direction. She looked over and sighed in relief. He didn’t even think that she realized that she done it. He left her and went back into the house without saying another word.

 

She didn’t say anything neither, when they parked the car and climbed the stairs. They wouldn’t admit to it but it was nice having someone waiting for them on the front porch.

Will walked up first. She mouthed ‘thank you’ before he smiled and winked at her. Frankie walked up the stairs, kissed her on top of her head and kept walking. Sebastian however, sat beside her.

“The cops caught up with us”

“They what?”

“About the club” he chuckled sweetly “We told them we were there but didn’t see anything. We just got out of there”

“Did they buy it?”

“Helped that I told them I was with a bunch of tourists” he teased

“Shut up” She bumped his shoulder playfully

“It worked”

“We’re going to get out of your hair”

“No”

“Yes”

“Gab”

“We have to keep moving”

“Listen, you got them a plane. Frankie is a pilot. Give them the address of the cabin and you. Luna, you stay here”

She gently took his face in her hands and shook her head

“You know I can’t do that”

“You’re going into a jungle. You”

“I’m going to fine, Baby. I’m fine”

“Just because you have pushed it down. Doesn’t mean you have dealt with it”

“It’s a few days surrounded by a bunch of men I trust. Its completely different. It’s all going to be fine”

He leant over kiss the tip of her nose. Sebastian didn’t tell her know that she had a nightmare the night before.

She was still dreaming about it.

 

#

 

She sat on the edge on Sebastian’s bed repacking her backpack. She was nervous, not that she would ever admit to that. Everybody had been quiet. Either getting their game face on or getting their minds ready. She wished she had that skill, but she didn’t. She knew this was going to suck. Getting back in their newly stolen car, at least it was only one this one. There was five of them, no reason to take anything more than they needed.

Suddenly something banged on the floor. There was a very well-worn pair of hiking boots at her feet. She smiled up at him.

“They are better than the girly shoes you have on right now”

“They’re not girly. They are ballet flats, and I didn’t know I was going hiking”

“I’m just glad I kept them”

“You kept all my stuff. You need to make room for yourself, it’s your house”

“Or you could just stay” he told her quietly

“Baby”

“There is no need for you not too.”

“You know I can’t do that”

“I know” he sighed sitting next to her “I had to try”

“Any other time I would say yes in a heartbeat”

“You know how I feel, right?”

“I do and I feel the same way, with my whole heart. I’m going to come back once I get them all out of this. I’m going to quit my job and come back here and we can figure out the rest”

“Just get through the next few days and call me once that plane lands in Canada”

He got down on the floor and put the boots on her feet and tied the laces, maybe a little too aggressively but she knew it wasn’t aimed at her. It was concern rather than anger

“I promise” she said softly

“I swear if this wasn’t for Frankie being here. I’d lock you in that damn barn”

“If it wasn’t Frankie, I wouldn’t be here at all”

He gently placed her feet back on the floor before offering his hand and pulling her off the bed, wrapping his arms around her tight

“If Gunner touches a hair on your head get all four guys to break his hands”

“Please with those guys. They would fly him over a chasm and drop him down” she joked “I’ll be fine”

There was a small knock on the doorframe. They both spun around and smiled at Benny

“Do you want me to take your bag?”

“Thanks Benny” she said reaching over handing her bag to him and not quiet letting go of Sebastian “I’ll be down in a few minutes”

Benny made his way downstairs and outside to the guys and the car. Santiago was looking annoyed more and more as the seconds ticked by.

“She’ll be here in a minute”

“We’re going to lose the light”

“It’s eight in the morning, Pope” Frankie told him quietly

“Doesn’t make it less true”

“Five minutes, man”

He didn’t say anything, but he hopped into the driver’s seat and fought the urge to press the horn. Instead, he took a deep breath and calmed his heartbeat. Once they were on the road, he was going to feel a whole lot better. At least that’s what he told himself

 

#

 

The trekked through thick jungle it had rained just before they had gotten there, it was both a good and a bad thing, but it was still better then being in a car driving anymore than they already had over the past week.

They always placed her between them. Two in front and two behind. She wondered if they even realized that they did it. Had they been in the job so long that it was second nature.

Frankie watched her as she walked behind Benny.

Suddenly she felt Frankie hold her hand before she looked up at him surprised

“You’ve been quiet today”

“Haven’t meant to be. Sorry”

“No, its fine”

“I’m okay, Frank” she chuckled sweetly “I promise”

“I think we better stop before we lose the light” Will called out

They didn’t really say much to each other after that. She guessed there was no need too.

She sat on her sleeping bag and planned to use her pack back as a pillow. She reached for her pack of cigarettes but before she had even lit up. Santiago took the packet out of her hand and threw it straight into the dense jungle. She stared in the same direction, wide eyed and mouth gaping

“What the fuck!”

“What happens if you spark a fire just cos you need a fix?”

“We’re all saved from your tomfoolery” she answered

“Tomfoolery? What is this Victorian England?’

“Go find them”

“Not a chance, Princesa”

“Don’t call me that”

“Reina?” he asked raising an eyebrow. She tried to suppress a smile but failed miserably “Yeah, thought you might like that”

Gabby only knew a little Spanish from what she picked up from around the place, but she knew what he had just called her

Queen.

“You’re annoying, Garcia”

“Feeling is mutual, Gabs”

“Maybe we’d all be better off if they just slept together already” Benny said under his breath

“Yep” Frankie answered quickly 

Although they knew where they were. They were all looking forward to  the time their heads could hit the pillow and all hoped it wouldn’t be a long night.

Thank God, they didn’t have to carry the money with them

#

She woke up in the pitch-dark hearing the bird calls and the animals scurrying around them. It felt too familiar. The smell of the wet soil and the sound of the trees swaying.  Suddenly she wasn’t there anymore. Suddenly it was hotter. The air was thicker, and she was dizzy. She felt sick.

Gabby’s eyes flew open as she shot up in her sleeping bag

She looked around at all the guys sleeping peacefully. She was thankfully that none of them had noticed. The last thing any of them needed was to be worried that she was losing her mind.

She had to remind herself where she actually was and who she was with

#frankie morales #romanticism #santiago garcia #triple frontier #will miller #benny miller #santiago garcia x oc #netflix #ben miller #charlie hunnam #garrett hedlund #pedro pascal #oscar isaac #the chain

[farmerlarrry]

Orange Slices (Joel Miller x f!reader)

masterlist | chapter nine | chapter eight | read on ao3 | playlist

story summary: A story about finding companionship and love in the midst of chaos.

a/n: This was a fun chapter to write lol, I hope you all enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it. (I revised this for like 5 hours today, any other mistakes I will hopefully catch tomorrow, I was just anxious to get this posted!!)

word count: 10452

if you want to be notified when I post new chapters, follow @farmerlarrrylibrary and put on notifications! If you'd rather be tagged, just let me know.

Chapter Ten

The following morning, you wake up before the sun begins to rise. The room is dark and you can only see the faint outlines of the furniture. Swinging your legs over the side of the couch, you push yourself up into a sitting position, taking a moment to fully wake up from your poor state of sleep. As you sit up, you can feel your thin t-shirt unsticking itself from your back causing you to bring your hand up to your cold, clammy cheek and then up to your sweat-clad forehead. What the fu–, you think in confusion. A small ache begins to form in the spot right between your eyes the longer you stay seated. You let out an audible sigh before forcing yourself to stand up from the couch. The soreness in your legs nearly drag you back down like an anchor, causing you to stumble.

With heavy footsteps, you scramble to find the lamp switch in the dark. You can hear the coasters scatter on the ground after accidentally swiping them off of the side table. After what feels like an eternity of feeling around, you finally find the switch, having to twist it a few times before it actually turns on. The sudden light makes you wince, squinting your eyes at the overwhelming brightness. Turning back around and taking a seat on the edge of the couch, you lean over and grab the painkillers off of the coffee table. The safety cap causes you some trouble, but once you get it off, you put two of the blue and red pills into your palm, turning them over in your hand as you reach for the half full glass of water. The pills stick to your throat as you swallow, feeling like sandpaper as you force them down; following up with a sip of water does nothing to help.

A part of you wants to lay back down and try to fall back asleep. Last night was a rough night. You kept waking up every hour or so in a cold sweat due to the dreams– or perhaps they would be considered nightmares– that kept occurring. At first, they were solely of  Nessa, particularly the day the outbreak happened; you watched her get torn apart by the infected, begging you for help, and for some God awful reason, you were unable to get to her, unable to help her, leaving you in a panicked and fragile state. Later in the night, your parents started to make an appearance, screaming out your name in terror, begging for you to save them, begging for you to come home; just like Nessa, you were unable to do anything but watch it happen. The last nightmare you remember having were of people you actually weren’t able to save, situations that really did happen. Ones that you let happen. The people appeared in a single line standing across from you; an older woman with blood running down her head as FEDRA soldiers beat her with the butt of their assault rifles, a little girl with a pink ribbon knotted in her hair who had been shot in the stomach, a man crying out for his mother as those things claw and rip at his flesh. This was the first night this type of thing has happened, it’s always just all black; you go to sleep, you wake up, that’s it. At the very least, it's never been anything this vivid. You stare at the ground as you contemplate your choices, you could use the rest, however at what cost? You don’t want to see Nessa or your parents getting hurt again, you don’t want to see the faces of the people you've gotten killed. Regardless, you should actually be ready when Joel comes by to get you, unlike yesterday. Going out on patrol with him is something you do not want to mess up.

Before heading upstairs to change, you are sure to turn on the gas stove and prepare the percolator. Coffee is something you desperately need right now. The stovetop percolator is a little bit intimidating by its looks, a kitchen gadget you never had to learn to use before, however you did half-observe Nessa using it for the first week she stayed with you. If she can do it, surely you can do it as well. After filling the reservoir with water, you fill the basket up with the little remaining coffee grounds Nessa left. That seems simple enough, you think as you turn the burner higher, hoping you did it properly.

While the coffee begins to brew, you go upstairs. Slowly taking one step at a time up the stairs, your ankles ache at every push up, sending an alternating jolt through each of your calves. You and Joel didn’t do that much walking yesterday, nothing that you haven’t done before. It’s almost unbelieve how sore your body is. 

When you enter the bedroom, you don’t bother turning on the light, not even caring to look at the clothes you grab from the dresser. You practically fall into the sink once you get past the corridor leading to the bathroom, gripping onto the sides and leaning into your grasp to keep yourself well supported. Your head feels fuzzy. Maybe some cold water will help wake me up, you think, remembering how you used to do that everyday before going to class, in most cases, apart from the times you were severely hungover, it worked. Quickly flipping on the cold tab, you splash the water up toward your face, water droplets landing on the mirror and the floor. For a split second you feel good, only for the fuzziness to return, now with a throbbing sensation. The only plus side is you feel just slightly more awake than you did before. 

After a bit of movement and some time for your body to absorb the pills, your legs feel less sore than when you first woke up. You are still slow to put on your clothes, taking your time in your exhausted state.

You can hear the liquid in the percolator begin to come to a boil as you enter the kitchen. As you round the bottom of the stairs, you hurry over to the front door, grabbing your backpack from the ground and toss it on top of the kitchen table. Then rushing over to the stove, slightly concerned about burning the coffee, you pull the percolator off the burner. Smells good, you think to yourself, opening the overhead cabinet to grab a mug. As you begin to pour the coffee into it, you eye the two blue speckled mugs that are still sitting in the sink from yesterday. Should I prepare a cup for Joel? You ask yourself, drawing your brows together, slowing your pour. You open the cabinet again and hesitantly grab a second one, looking at it in your hand. This one is cream colored with a brown handle and rim, and an owl sitting amongst some tree branches is printed on the side . Why the hell not, you quickly set it down on the countertop and push it aside to fill it up when he arrives. It’s just a friendly gesture.

You’re slowly nibbling on a granola bar and sipping your coffee while you read an old newspaper dated Wednesday, September 24, 2003. The only section of the newspaper you could find happened to be the sports section, something you never really cared much about, but it gave you some sort of entertainment, something you needed. The Arizona Diamondbacks won 6 to 3 against the Colorado Rockies… cool, I guess, you think. In the corner of your eye, you notice a light turn on, something that stands out against the darkness outside, causing you to look up. Through the window you see the light is coming from Joel’s house. A fire suddenly ignites in your stomach and anxiety begins to build in your chest. The porch light suddenly flickers on and the front door to his house opens with him emerging from it. He has his bag slung over one of his shoulders, his green faded flannel’s sleeves are rolled up just below his elbows. Your heart jumps and you shove the rest of your granola bar in your mouth and take a large sip from your mug to make it easier to chew and force down your throat. 

You wait awkwardly at the kitchen counter, with your back facing the door and windows. It feels like an eternity for him to get to your house, something that should only take a few minutes at most. Just as you start to fill up the mug you pulled out for him, watching the liquid smoothly fall, there’s a soft knock at your front door. Knock, knock, knock. Although you were expecting it, the sound still comes to you as a surprise. When you look over your shoulder, you can see Joel through the window, his head is hanging low and he’s adjusting the watch on his wrist.

You stand still for a moment, stunned, before you quickly grab both mugs, a thick haze of steam coming off the tops. You wedge one of them between your stomach and your forearm, holding the other by its handle as you walk over cautiously to the door, not wanting them to spill. The heat against your arm becomes more and more intense the longer you hold it in its place. Joel’s head snaps up as soon as you open the door. You immediately notice how tired he looks. The dark circles under his eyes look darker than usual, his eyes slightly puffy. 

“Good morning,” Your tone is bright, despite your concern. “Sorry if the coffee isn’t great, I had to figure out how to make it myself.”

Joel returns your greeting in a low mumble, you watch him as he shifts his eyes from your face down to your midsection. He immediately grabs one of the mugs when he notices the one being held with your arm.

“Does that not… burn? ” He sounds frantic furrowing his brows together, turning your arm over with his free hand. The roughness of his palm against your skin makes your stomach lurch. There’s a large red mark beginning to form on your arm, but by the looks of it, it is nothing more than from the heat itself. 

“No, it’s fine, just the warm exterior of the ceramic,” You reply, brushing off his concern. He runs his index finger over the spot a couple more times before letting go and entering into your house, taking a seat at the dinner table.

You take the seat directly across from him. Joel pulls out a small brown paper bag from his backpack, you watch him as he unrolls the top and pulls something out. Jerky. You can feel your stomach rumble at the thought of food, the granola bar obviously not holding up very well. He holds a piece of it in his hand for a moment before reaching over the table and offering it to you. You take it, giving him an appreciative smile in return as he rips into his own piece.

This is what life could be like, you think, smiling to yourself.

–

The weather is much nicer than it was yesterday. The sun is shining bright, casting a warm glow over the community with not a cloud in sight from what you can tell. A bit of a chill and humidity still lingers in the air, but nothing that isn’t unbearable. Before leaving, you grabbed the flannel shirt Nessa left at your house one of the many nights she slept over, just in case it got any chillier. You and Joel are walking close to each other's sides, his hands half tucked into the front pockets of his jeans. Neither of you say much as you walk into the main area of the community.

It’s busier than normal, not only for the time of day, but just in general. You haven’t seen this many people out and about since being in the community, not even the night of the get together. As you look around the town center, without realizing, you start to fall behind Joel who is shifting his way through the crowd at the same hurried pace as always. You’re trying to listen in on the conversations of passerbyers, to get any indication as to why it’s so busy, however everyone’s talking is combining into one big mumble.

When you finally give up, you realize Joel is no longer in your sight. You immediately look around, going  up on your tiptoes, trying to see if you can find him. You spot the back of his head a few yards ahead; you’d recognize his stature anywhere.

“Something going on today?” You catch up to Joel, brushing up against the side of his body as you squeeze past a group of people going in the opposite direction. You don’t look at him as you speak, focusing on where you’re walking.

“Probably,” He responds quickly, not elaborating any further. You side eye him, narrowing your eyes. 

“ Probably?” You repeat his answer, a hint of curiosity in your tone. Joel looks over at you and shrugs.

“I don’t know, I don’t keep up with what’s goin’ on here,” Joel says as if that is something you should know. Which it is something you know, but you think he’d hear something from Tommy at least. All you can muster up is a simple hm. 

As the two of you walk past the dining house, trying to stay on the outer edge of the crowd, you hear a familiar voice in a hushed tone quickly say don’t look now, but there they are. You snap your head into the direction it came from. Heather, Aimee, and Nessa are standing in a group on the porch. Aimee is very obviously watching you and Nessa is leaning up against one of the wooden beams with her back toward you. You can see Heather’s mouth moving, saying something, and Nessa very slightly nodding her head. They don’t seem to be very amused today, trading their laughter and snide remarks from a few nights ago for somber, dead-set expressions. You can’t see Nessa’s face clearly between the people blocking her as they walk past and the angle, but you can only imagine it being similar to the other two. Joel must’ve heard them as well because he is staring at them much more obviously than you are, his expression cold as ice. If only looks could kill , you selfishly think. He turns to you just as the two of you pass by them, his gaze immediately softening and he gives you a short lived, sympathetic smile.

“You have any plans for today? Don’t wanna keep ya’ from your friends,” He says in a somewhat joking tone, gesturing to them with his head. He pulls his hands out of his pockets, and rubs his palms together in front of him.

You let out a small scoff, shaking your head in response. He turns slightly more toward you than before, still walking and locks eyes with you.

“ Mhmm, my friends,” You finally say, raising your eyebrows and looking down. Joel chuckles in response and brings his hand up to his mouth, wiping the corners of his mouth with his thumb and index finger. The sound of his laughter puts you at ease. “And, no. The only thing I have planned for today is this and then probably lay on the couch and contemplate my life now that I have all of this freetime. I’m really looking forward to that.” 

Joel laughs again, a little longer and louder than before. This time you look over to him, watching the smile lines around his eyes deepen and the corners of his mouth curl up into a smile. 

“Okay, well, I’d hate to take time away from that, but I want to show you something when we get done with our patrol,” He says, not really making it sound like you have a choice in the matter. The two of you just barely make it out of the crowd, the stables now coming into view. Lucky and Callus, Tommy’s horse that Joel uses, are both out front and already tacked up. 

You can hear Joel let out a muddled what the–, but all you can think about is him referring to the patrol as our patrol, not having the capacity to pay attention to anything else. You clear your throat in an attempt to stop yourself from making a fool of yourself and appearing too happy at the sound of that. 

–

Joel seems to be confused by the horses already being out front and ready to go. He runs his hand along the side of Callus, with a twisted expression, looking as if he were deep in thought. As he comes up around the back of the horse, James emerges from the inside of the main stable, the door squeaking as it comes to a close. You look him up and down, noticing the thick mud sticking to the front of his jeans, and the dirt covering the tops of his hands. His cheeks are tinted pink and his piercing blue eyes catch yours before quickly flicking to the ground. He’s picking at his thumb cuticle with his index finger, signaling he is nervous about something . Joel’s confusion quickly turns into annoyance, standing just off to the side with his hands on his hips. He clears his throat, waiting for James to say something.

“ So,” Joel says in a dark tone. He’s staring intensely at James, not blinking. 

“Hey Joel ,” James sounds hesitant as he speaks, avoiding eye contact with either of you. You look over to Joel, who looks like he is trying his best not to lose his temper, the veins in his arms are more apparent than before and you can see the glisten of sweat on his forehead as it begins to form. “Nessa told me you two were doing patrol, so I thought I’d stop by beforehand, see if… uh… ”

James’ voice trails off, and nothing but silence follows. Joel takes a step forward toward Lucky, fixing something on the saddle and continuing to wait for James to elaborate on his presence.

“If you need help, man, I’d be more than happy to go, it’s just… with her– with her being new, you know how Maria is–” He slightly stumbles on his words, although his tone is calm and collected. As he speaks, he pushes his long, blonde fringe out of his eyes. Joel scoffs, kicking at the ground and sending a chuck of mud in James’ direction. James slowly lets out the breath he had been holding onto, screwing his eyes shut. You can see his throat bob as he forces himself to swallow.

“I don’t need help,” Joel shoots back, his tone is hostile. 

“Some of us just don’t think it’s very smart taking her out, ‘n all,” James’ voice carries a degree of harshness to it now. He takes a step towards Joel, raising his hands up to his sides. Just by his body language, it is apparent that this confrontation was not his idea and probably something he didn’t want to do, considering his obvious complex relationship with Joel. This was Nessa’s doing, just her being too much of a coward to do it herself. Nessa told him… of course she did, you think to yourself. You can’t help but feel bad for James; for being put in this position. 

“I don’t need you or the others policing me ‘n what I do,” Joel starts to unwrap the horse’s reins from the wooden posts frantically, handing Lucky’s off to you before starting on Callus’. “Regardless of what you want, it's her choice if she wants to go.”

Both of them shift their attention to you, both giving you very different but equally complex looks. 

“Yeah , I want to go,” You slowly say with a nod, playing with the edge of the leather. James puts his tongue in his cheek, shifting his weight between his feet. A nervous expression takes over his previously calm one. 

“There’s some stuff going on in the community today, you know… Nessa could use your help, it’d be good for you–” His tone is dry, desperate sounding.

“ Ja– “ Joel begins to say his name, but you cut him off, beating him to it.

“ James,” You say his name more firmly this time, and you can see his eyes change from focusing on you to focusing on something behind you. He subtly shakes his head, covering it up by stretching his neck to one side. Looking over your shoulder, you can see Nessa standing just at the edge of the crowd, leaning up against a building. As the two of you make eye contact, she pushes herself upright, disappearing back into the crowd of people. A wave of annoyance flashes through your body, your cheeks becoming warm. 

“Alright,” He says barely audibly, avoiding eye contact with Joel and disappearing back into the stable.

–

Today’s patrol is nearly identical to yesterday, except you insisted to Joel that you will be of actual use today. He reluctantly agreed, occasionally letting you take the lead or hold back bits of loose or broken fencing while he marked it on the map so he could report it later on. You didn’t want to be just some pity partner, a part of you was hoping word would get back to Maria that you have been accompanying Joel and it would become a permanent position for you. As grateful as you are for the community, you already are beginning to feel confined to it, you need to be able to get out for a bit, away from the others and this is the perfect way to do that. The other reason being you enjoyed Joel’s company. You thought if there’s anyways to get closer to him, to get to know better, this is the way to do it. Who knows what could happen, you think.

The actual patrolling part goes by a lot faster today, most likely due to the fact that you were able to do it on horseback and there wasn’t much ground to cover. The main task for today was checking the fences to the south of the main entrance, the other three groups were tasked to check the rest of the fencing. A few parts looked weak but nothing too concerning according to Joel. Honestly, it wasn’t very interesting and he didn’t seem to be in the mood to talk much. All you could think about the entire time was where he was taking you afterwards, causing butterflies to flutter around in your stomach everytime the thought reoccurred to you. 

Joel lets you lead the way back to the main entrance at your own request; you wanted to test your memory based off of the way you guys went this morning. For the most part, you were able to get back with a few redirections. Just as the gate comes into view, you can hear Joel’s horse coming closer and closer until he pulls up to your side. He doesn’t look at you, just swinging his backpack off of his shoulders, pulling it in front of himself. 

“Remember the barn from yesterday?” He asks, unzipping the main zipper.

“ Mhm ” You respond. Your horse slows its pace to match Callus. 

“You remember the way there?” He continues as he starts digging through the main pocket. Your mind goes blank, your expression must’ve conveyed that to him. “Just up that way, opposite the direction we just came from. That’s where we need to go, leave the horses at the barn and then we’ll hike the rest of the way.” 

He points ahead of the two of you, you follow his finger and nod. Joel pulls out a walkie talkie, turning it on and clearing his throat before pressing down the side button.

“This is Joel, no threats coming from the south side, over.” He says in a serious tone, holding it up to his ear for a short while after speaking, waiting for a response. 

All you can hear is static coming through the speaker. You’re watching him carefully; the way the lines on his forehead creases as he draws his brows together, the way his eyes dart around as he thinks, his slightly pouted lips which appear to be chapped. 

“Got it” An unfamiliar voice finally comes through on the other end, confirming they received his message. He quickly turns it off, shoving it back into his bag and urging his horse to keep moving.

–

“I’m sure you’re curious where I’m taking you,” Joel breaks the silence as the two of you approach the barn where the horses will be left for the rest of today’s adventure. He hops off of his horse, before turning back towards you, extending his hand outward to help you down. He continues talking as he begins to tie up the horses.

“It’s just an outlook up past this trailhead,” He looks over to the treeline, pointing in the general direction of an overgrown pathway near the path the two of you took yesterday. “I found it soon after I started doing the patrols, I used to come here a lot to get away from everything. I don’t know, I suppose to just think, be by myself. When you said that it must be nice getting away from the community, it made me think of it, I thought you might enjoy it too.” 

Your heart fluttered. He’s taking me to his own special place, he’s sharing that with me, you think to yourself. This is an entirely different side of Joel than you’ve seen, a side of him you never thought he’d ever show you nor one that you were even sure existed.

–

“Joel,” You nearly shriek out his name in a chilling tone.

You feel yourself begin to slip on some slick leaves, still moistened from yesterday’s rain. Desperately trying to grab onto anything, a nearby tree is your best hope of trying to steady yourself. Before you can get a good grip on it, you lose your footing, your arm scraping up against the rough bark, and your hands catching your fall on a handful of jagged rocks.

You bite down on your bottom lip as much as you can tolerate it, trying desperately not to make a noise or start crying. The immense pain you feel shoots up your arm, you can see the blood running down it, landing in dark red droplets on the leaf covered ground.

You shakily let out the breath you were holding on to, the feeling of the pain escaping through your exhale. You pull your rolled sleeve farther up your arm, wrapping your fingers around your elbow. 

“Are you okay?” Joel calls out, half jogging back to you. You can feel your face turn hot with embarrassment. 

“Oh, I– it's nothing, just…” You respond, taking a look at your bloodied hands and elbow. As badly as you want to confess to the pain you're feeling, nothing hurts more than your ego right now. As Joel kneels down in front of you, you look up through the pieces of hair that now cover your face; worry is spread across his face. He doesn't seem to be fazed by the blood, gently grabbing your arm, assessing the wound.

“We can go back—“ He begins to say, moving the flannel sleeve higher up.

“No, no… that’s not necessary,” You practically yell at him, to which he just nods. He begins to pour water from his canteen over it, washing away the excess blood, and clearing any debris or dirt. Swiftly swinging his backpack to the front of him, he pulls out a thin cloth tearing it to be the perfect size to act as a temporary bandage. His movements are careful as he wraps it around your arm and you begin to feel a pulse as he ties the loose edges together into a knot. 

“That feel okay? It’s not too tight?” He asks softly, still concentrating on your arm.

“ Mhm, ” You hum back, distracted purely by him. 

As he begins to roll the sleeve of the flannel back down, he tucks his bottom lip in between his teeth, slightly chewing on it. The feeling of his fingertips lightly grazing your skin gives you goosebumps. His hand lingers at the cuff as he looks at you through his brow line, his eyelashes fluttering. For a moment he stares, a look in his eyes that tells you more than words could ever say. You force yourself to swallow the saliva that has pooled in your mouth. Joel quickly retracts his hand, clearing his throat and standing up abruptly. His expression now hardened. 

“It’s not too much farther up,” He’s looking in the opposite direction, as you pull yourself up to your feet. Your arm stings when you let it hang to your side, throbbing in the pattern of your heartbeat. Joel starts moving back up the trail at a faster pace than before, leaving you behind.

–

“Wow, you can really see everything from up here,” You say in awe, walking up to the edge of the outlook, you can see some dark clouds rolling up onto the community, a sign that another storm is brewing. You slowly suck in some of the cool, fresh air.

“Yeah, it’s got a nice view,” Joel responds. The way he says it causes you to turn around and look at him. He’s sliding the strap of his backpack down his shoulder, dropping his bag on the ground at the base of a large rock. “Peaceful too.” 

“Do you come up here often?” You inquire, walking over to him and dropping your bag next to his. Joel lightly kicks at the boulder with his boot, while simultaneously rubbing the spot between his thumb and index finger. 

“Not lately,” He lets out in a single breath. “I used to come up here a lot though.” 

Joel takes a seat on the rocky ground, leaning up against the rock. He looks up at you as if he’s inviting you to join him, to which you take a seat closely next to him.

You can see a much better view of the mountain surrounding the community. White snow covers the high peaks, eventually leading down to the cool gray tones of the surface. A fog is lingering in the air. From above you can see a group of guards approaching the gates, coming from the west side of the outer perimeter. You watch them as they get closer and closer. Everything seems so small from up here.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” Joel suddenly says, his voice pulling you out of your meditative state. He reaches for his bag, sticking his hand through the side opening. “I’m not sure if you know Anna, she runs the infirmary, but she gave me this , saying it’s the last of this season’s harvest.”

A modestly sized orange. 

Joel holds it up in the air between the two of you. 

“Made me think of you, I guess,” He continues, passing it on to you. Holding it in the palm of your hand, you just stare at it, not quite sure what to say. Your heart swells and you purse your lips to hide your smile. 

“Thanks, Joel,” You practically whisper his name, looking at him with wide eyes. He gives you a curt nod, almost as if he were shy about the gesture. “Should we— we could share it now, it’s the perfect day for it.” 

Joel lifts his head, raising an eyebrow at you before nodding. You return a wide smile to him, immediately pressing your thumb through the navel and ripping at the peel, and setting it off to the side. Then you halve the naked orange, giving one half to Joel. The two of you share it in silence. The silence doesn't bother you though. Not with Joel, at least. 

–

“You look tired,” You say, leaning back onto the one palm that didn’t get torn up in your fall. Joel is about to pop a slice of his half of the orange into his mouth, but drops his hand, resting it on the side of his thigh. He purses his lips off to one side, turning to look at you.

“Was up tossin’ ‘n turnin’ last night,” He breathily responds, mimicking you and leaning back onto his free hand. You nod as he quietly clears his throat. “So, this morning with James…”

“Oh, yeah, that ,” You say, not really sure what to say and picking at one of the stringy bits you pulled off from your last orange slice. Joel pushes his last slice into his mouth, chewing it up and swallowing. 

“I saw Nessa watchin’ us,” He adds. “On the side of the building.”

“I saw her too, I’m pretty she was the one behind it. She, uh– ” You stumble on your words, trying to figure out a way to tell Joel why she sent James after the two of you and exactly why she was watching you. 

The truth isn’t bad… you think. 

“She thinks there’s something going on between us,” You finally say shyly, letting out an awkward chuckle. “I’ve told her there’s not, but I guess she doesn’t believe me.”

Joel initially doesn’t say anything, and after a few moments of silence you look over at him. He’s staring down towards his hands which are now folded into one another. Your heart drops at his lack of a reaction. 

“Oh,” He finally says, just loud enough for you to barely hear it over the chatter of the birds and the rustling of the leaves in the breeze. 

After that, things go silent again, leaving you with just your own thoughts. 

You begin to think about yesterday, how it felt when he asked you where you were from, the pain it brought thinking about the life you had before the outbreak; how badly you wish you could go back and be that angsty, carefree teenage girl. You really thought life couldn’t get any worse back then. If only she knew what was yet to come, the things she was forced to do, and the outcomes of her choices. You were staring off into the distance, completely occupied by your haunting thoughts. Is that what triggered the nightmares? You wonder. Joel asking you about home?  

Then you think, oh my God, did my thoughtless question cause Joel’s rough night?

“You doing okay?” Joel asks out of the blue while shifting his sitting position and stretching out his legs. 

“Yeah,” You softly say, turning your head slightly toward him. Your response doesn’t sound very convincing, and you don’t even try to cover it up, just letting out a defeated sigh instead. “No, actually, I’m not, but that’s the way life goes, so…”

Joel nudges your arm, causing you to look over at him. He raises his eyebrows at you, almost as if he were urging you to open up to him. You sigh again.

“Last night I had some really, really horrible nightmares, some of which actually happened,” You start, at this point, not being able to hold it in. “I’ve done some really bad things. I know I can’t take back what’s already happened, no matter how badly I wish I could, but— but how do I even begin to live with it. I got a chance to move on, and I-” 

You shake your head, trying to think of how you want to proceed. Your mind is a jumbled mess of thoughts and feelings.

“I just don’t want what happened to define who I am, but at the same time I feel like I should pay for the things I’ve done, somehow make it even,” You finish your thought, Joel is still patiently listening, carefully watching you. “I just don’t feel like I deserve this new beginning, or whatever you want to call it.” 

He takes a moment to process what you’ve said, turning away and staring out toward the community.

“We’ve all done things we’re ashamed of, wish things turned out differently than they did… it’s the way things are,” His voice is quiet. He licks his lips quickly. You turn to look at him, but he keeps his eyes locked on whatever it is he’s looking at. 

We’ve all done things we’re ashamed of, you run his response through your mind several times. The birds are flying over the two of you, hopping from tree to tree. You can hear the rustling of the branches and leaves as they do so.

“The lies I told got people killed, people that didn’t deserve it,” You continue to confess, because for some reason, right now with Joel, it feels right. You feel safe. You force yourself to swallow the saliva that has built up in your mouth. “I’ve killed people’s mothers, their fathers. Joel, I’ve gotten children killed. Not intentionally, but that doesn’t change the fact that they died. They never even had a chance to grow up. An- And I feel so guilty… I just… I-”

Your voice cracks and the tears begin to fall before you can stop them, rolling down your cheek and dropping off onto your pant leg. You subtly look over to Joel who hasn’t reacted to what you said, you feel a sudden rush of anxiety. He’s going to tell Tommy, Tommy is going to tell Maria, Maria is going to kick me out, thoughts of panic overtake your mind, and Nessa, oh God Nessa will never forgive me. Joel slowly turns his body towards you, placing his hand on yours and you snap back to reality, your mind becoming quiet.

“You’re not a bad person for doing the things you needed to do, you can’t always control the situation,” He responds firmly. He reaches his hand out toward your face, wiping your cheek with his thumb as a tear begins to fall, as he does so, you look up at him with wide eyes. “You still deserve good things.”

His words are reassuring, however they aren’t convincing you that it’s possible. Do you deserve good things? You think, picking up a small rock and rolling it around in your hand. Your breathing has become more shallow than before.

“You deserve good things too, Joel,” You finally say, the rock slides out of your hand, landing back on the ground. You stand up and lean up against the boulder, circling your fingers on the rough surface and look down at your feet. After Joel doesn’t respond, you look down at him. His face has gone expressionless, his jaw tensing and untensing continuously as the silence ensues. He lets out huff of air, your words sinking deep and hitting something deep within him. “Tommy told me, before we went to the cabin– he said–”

“Tommy doesn’t know the half of it, he pretends like he does, but he doesn't,” He lets out sharply, his tone stinging your heart. Joel lets out another huff of air, this time it sounds more defeated than angry. “It’s just… different, okay?”

“How so?” You inquire cautiously. He shoots up from the ground without any struggle and takes a stance in front of you, staring down at you with intense eyes. Joel grabs your shoulders firmly, you shudder under his touch. A faint boom of thunder rumbles through the air.

“The things you did… you did them to survive, right?”  He’s barely talking above a whisper now, his breathing is shallow and deep. You give him a single nod. He lets his hands run down the side of your arms before letting them drop down to his side. “The things I’ve done , they were out of anger. Anger about what happened to…” 

His face twists in pain and he screws his eyes shut. 

“I just did them because I could,” Joel finally says. “That’s the difference.”

He turns away from you, walking over to the edge of the cliff. You stay back, taking in what he just said. The things I’ve done, they were out of anger. Anger about what happened to… Happened to who? You narrow your eyes, letting your eyes drop as you wonder. When you look back up Joel is pacing back and forth, a bead of sweat running down the side of his face. You didn’t know how to respond, but your heart hurt for Joel. It hurts for both of you for what this world has done to you. 

Pushing yourself off of the boulder's surface and making a beeline toward him, you make a decision without much thought behind it. You aren’t sure how he’s going to react, if it’s going to end how you think it will, but in this vulnerable moment, you think he needs this just as much as you know you do.

He stops pacing when he notices you coming toward him, furrowing his brows in confusion. Without any hesitation, you pull Joel into your embrace. He hitches his breath as your arms wrap around his torso, bringing his hands up to your shoulders and just as you think he is going to push you away, he crumbles under your touch; slowly and loosely wrapping his arms around you, flattening his palms against the middle of your back. You have your ear pressed to the middle of his chest and can hear his heartbeat quicken in pace. Strong and deep. You tighten your embrace, pulling him in even closer. He does the same. He tightens his grip, resting his chin softly on top of your head. 

The two of you stand there for what seems like a lifetime. It is about mid morning at this point, the birds are waltzing around you, sending out sweet songs and chirps. You feel calm. Every worry, every struggle, all your anger, all washes away the minute Joel wrapped his arms around you. Closing your eyes, you allow yourself to become lost in the feeling. 

“We should probably head back,” His tone is the softest you’ve ever heard it, catching you off guard. Your arms tighten once more for a moment before loosening them up, running your hands down the side of his torso. He’s still holding on, but let's go as you take a step back. You bring one of your hands up to your chin, debating what to say, if you should even say anything. Your heart is beating fast and finally bring yourself to look up at him. You can't form any words to say so you just nod to him.

As you turn towards the boulder to collect your things, Joel grabs at your wrist, tightening his fingers around it and pulling you back. You can feel the wind flow through your hair and dance across your skin as you turn to face him. He’s taking a step closer towards you, his eyes unmistakingly locked on your lips. You slightly part your lips at the realization of what is about to happen. You know it's wrong, you should listen to Nessa, you should, but you can’t. He shifts his eyes slowly up to yours, his eyes look dark, sending a chill down your spine. His throat bobs as he begins to lean in and you close your eyes. Your mind is clear of any thoughts, you can’t think about anything other than Joel and how much you want this, how much you want him. You can feel his breath tickle your skin as he gets closer, and you lean in.

He lets out a gruff, low groan, immediately dropping his hands and pulling away from you. The air suddenly becomes cold as he steps away. For a moment you're shocked as you begin to process what just happened, and what was just about to happen. An overwhelming sense of hurt hits your heart hard, your chest filling with a burning sensation. You're unable to move, now holding your wrist in your hand, the wrist he had just been holding onto. Joel is now a few feet away from you, refusing to move, refusing to look at you. He brings his hand up to his head, running it down the backside of his head before lifting his head up, looking in your general direction. The clouds overtake the sun, matching the melancholy mood that currently lingers.

“I’m sorry. I don’t- I don’t know,” He’s barely able to get out the words. You can’t tell if he’s in shock or embarrassed. You shake your head quickly, again trying to find something, anything to say. Be cool about it. Tears immediately start gliding down your cheeks, your face is burning with heat. Or not… Everything you felt for him up until a few moments ago turns into embarrassment. He’s still refusing to look at you. “I shouldn’t… we shouldn’t.” 

As he speaks, you find yourself slowly backing away from him, wrapping your arms around yourself and running your hands over your arms. The surroundings have become awfully quiet as a light rain begins to come down. You finally see him look up at you, muttering fuck before bringing both of his hands up to his face.

“Joel, we could–” Your voice cracks, rain drops finding their way through the dense trees and landing on your head. “I want–” 

“ I don’t want this,” He cuts you off before you can finish your thought. His words feel like a knife to your heart. 

“Oh,” You say barely audibly, more for yourself than for him to hear. Your throat bobs as you swallow against the lump in your throat. 

You take a final look at him before grabbing your bag and start running down the path. You think you know the way back, but even if you’re wrong, that’s the last thing on your mind. 

As you run farther and farther, you swear you can hear him running behind you, although the few times you've looked over your shoulders, you didn’t see him. When the barn comes into your sight of view, you begin to feel relieved. You approach it at a slow jog, your lungs feel like they’re on fire. You’re trying to figure out how you’ll mount your horse on your own since you’ve failed to do so the past few times. 

Suddenly, you can hear Joel faintly calling out your name, each time it's becoming louder. You turn around and see him coming out from past the tree line. He comes to a stop when you make eye contact, putting his hands on his knees and bending over. His cheeks are flushed and he is out of breath. Without a thought, you turn and start running again, leaving the horses behind. C’mon, can you please just stop, he yells out again. 

You don’t stop, you just keep running.

–

You don’t make eye contact with any of the guards as they let you through the gates. Their stares make you feel self conscious. You have your arms crossed, trying to retain some body heat through your now rain soaked clothes. On the verge of hyperventilating, you try to steady your breathing. In through your nose, out through your mouth, you think of what your mother used to tell you to calm you down. The cool air burns your nose as you draw it in. 

James is standing outside of the guard’s trailer, his eyebrows drawn together, intensely watching the other guards as they do their duties. His fringe is now flattened against his forehead, water droplets bead at the tips. You try to keep your head down, not wanting him to see you, fearing he will relay any inkling of things going south with Joel to Nessa. Just get home, you tell yourself. The last thing you need to experience right now is a whole I told you so spiel from Nessa. 

“Hey,” You hear James call out behind you, just as you barely pass by him. Quickening your pace, you try to pretend you didn’t hear him. “Wait up, can I talk to you for a second?”

You can hear the gravel crunch under his footsteps. As soon as your in arms length of him, he grabs the back of the arm you fell on earlier, you wince in pain, pulling it back and running your hand over the sore spot. 

“Woah,” He holds his hand up in front of you as you turn around to face him. “Are you okay? Do you need me to take you to see Anna?”

“No, I just slipped, I’m fine,” You can feel your eyes beginning to fill with tears, hopping the rain droplets and your tears will blend together. James looks you up and down before taking a step closer to you, taking off his thin jacket and draping it over your shoulders. You want to push him away, but don’t want to cause a scene. Instead, you simply cross your arm, taking a step back from him.

“About this morning, Nessa told me–” He starts to say. You can feel yourself becoming short of breath, unable to focus on what he’s saying. You try to cover up your struggle with a smile. “Is– are you okay? Did he do something to you?” 

His tone sounds genuine, his eyes expressing a deep sense of concern. You cradle one of your arms, running your hand over your injury.

“ No,” You say firmly, wanting to ward off whatever thoughts James was currently having. “Joel didn’t— he… I just… I– I just want to go home.”

You take a few deep breaths, figuring out how you want to navigate this conversation that you don’t want to have. You’re mad at yourself for letting you succumb to your emotions so easily in front of a stranger.

“James, not a word of this to Nessa or anyone else, you got it?” You swing out in front of him, giving him a stern look.

“Yeah, okay,” His eyes widened as he nodded. A part of you genuinely believes he won’t say anything, however you have to be sure he won’t immediately run to Nessa.

“I’m being serious, especially after this morning…” You push further. “And I swear to God you don’t want to find out what I’ll do to you if you tell her.”

You have your finger raised in his face as you speak, although you are harsh, he doesn’t appear to be fazed. James looks around him again, placing his hand on the small of your back. You pull away from him, causing some of the guards passing by to stop and look, giving you lengthy stares in particular. James immediately waves them off, telling them to get back to work.

“You can trust me, I’m not like Heather or Drew, or any of them,” He says. He must see the hesitation on your face. “Really, I promise. Do you want me to walk you home?” 

“No,” You shortly respond, turning away from him and continuing your way through the town center, toward your house. 

–

The entire walk back, you were ridden with fear that you were going to run into Nessa or one of the other members of her little crew. Only allowing yourself to somewhat relax once you were inside your house with the front door closed and locked. You let out a deep sigh, which turned into a sob. You felt embarrassed, you were hurt. Did I do something? You began to run over what happened in your mind. We were so close to– he was so close… what happened? You run your hands through your wet hair, plopping down on the couch and pulling yourself into your own embrace, allowing yourself to cry. Laying down on your side, as you stare across the room, focusing on nothing in particular, your eyes become heavy and you slowly drift off to sleep.

Your swollen and heavy eyes flutter open to a knock at your door. The immediate pounding of your head causes you to screw your eyes tightly shut, covering your face with the small pillow that was supporting your head. Reality rushes to you all at once. You have zero desire to get up and face whoever is on the other side of that door. They knock again, this time a bit louder, and harder than before. 

“Go away,” You say in the pillow, just loud enough for you to barely hear yourself. Knock, knock, knock. The sound triggers a reaction you couldn’t control, you start crying into the pillow, hugging onto it tighter. “Just– go…”

A bit more time passes before you hear the footsteps retreat, the floorboards of your porch creek under each step. Your sobs lull you back to a deep state of sleep.

—

Your eyes shoot open, the room is barely lit up by the fading daylight. How long was I out for? You think to yourself, seemingly confused in your dazed state. Propping yourself up onto your elbows, you can see the sun setting through the window in the living room. You reach for the glass of water from this morning, still sitting on the table at the end of the couch from this morning. There’s only a small sip left, but it should be more than enough to ease the dryness of your mouth. 

As you tilt your head back, the cool water meeting the tip of your tongue, you catch a glimpse of a faint light inside of Joel’s house. A strong sense of anger and hurt overcomes you again. You firmly set down the glass with a thud, and without thinking first, you’re already out the front door, charging straight for his house.

As you bring your hand up to knock, your eyes are fixated on the ground, the door opens. You quickly dart your eyes up, your mind is suddenly blank. What do I even say, you think, hitching your breath. It’s Tommy. His eyes are red, it looks as if he had cried not too long ago, his eyes full of sadness and a hint of anger; his lips are pressed together into a thin line. Your heart drops as soon as the two of you make eye contact. This could only mean one thing, you think. He quickly turns away and wipes his eyes with the back of his hand, as if he is embarrassed you caught him like this.

“Joel’s gone,” Tommy clears his throat, you can hear a pained twinge as he speaks. “If you’re lookin’ for him.” 

He turns the light switch off before closing the door and turning to face you. Your brain is still processing his words. He’s gone? 

“Shit, Tommy,” You say barely above a whisper. He tightens his lips before taking a seat on one of the rocking chairs that are on the porch. You aren’t quite sure what to do, so instead of awkwardly lingering, you take a seat in the one next to him. Tommy is resting his elbows on his knees, his face in his hands, rocking slowly back and forth. You don’t know what else to say, your mind is stuck on what happened earlier as well as what almost happened. A sudden feeling of guilt washes over, why else would he leave if it wasn’t that? He left because of me. 

“I’m so stupid,” His voice is muffled. He runs his hands down his face, down his neck, before letting the drop between his legs, his head now shaking. “This time felt so different, I didn’t think… I don’t know. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. Shit, I should’ve stopped by sooner today. I got stuck doing stuff with Maria, and… just… fuck. I thought he was back for good. He seemed so…” 

You begin to say something, but you see Nessa approaching. She looks annoyed and pissed off. The two of you make eye contact and you give her a brief small smile, she returns one. You get up to meet her in the middle, thinking you should probably leave her and Tommy alone. 

“Joel left, I’m assuming?” She sounds bitter, honestly you can’t blame her. You nod, putting your hands on your hips trying your best to act unaffected. Nessa is biting down on her top lip, squinting her eyes off into the distance.  “Did something happen when you guys were out?”

She trailed off and studied your face for a moment, her brows are furrowed and eyes darting all over your face. You take in a deep breath of air, the coolness calms the heat that has built up in your chest. For a moment you think about saying something, telling her what happened. The embrace, what it almost led to. It was your fault he left. The realization fills you with guilt. This is your fault. You swear you can still hear his rapid heartbeat, his warm embrace. She breaks the silent tension with a low sigh, bringing you out of your thoughts. 

“Listen,” Nessa leans in closer to you, you begin to brace yourself for some sort of lecture, some sort of I told you so. But that never comes. “Whatever it was– you don’t have to tell me– just know it's not your fault. He was going to leave eventually. I’m sorry for what I said, I just… I didn’t want you to get hurt. It’s hard enough seeing it happen to Tommy, I don’t think I could handle seeing you like that too.”

You take a step back and look at her with wide eyes. You want to tell her, no Nessa, you were right and this is my fault. But before you can build up the courage to get the words out, she grabs your hand before pulling you into a short lived hug.

“You okay? I can come over after I take care of Tommy, get him home and stuff, ” She asks in a smooth tone. She can see right through me.

“No, no, Tommy really needs you, I’m fine, it was just a stupid, fleeting crush, you know. I should’ve known better,” You lie to her, forcing yourself to smile, sealing the lie with an eye roll. She smiles at you once again before letting go of your hand, starting to head toward Tommy to comfort him.

“Nessa,” You call out and she quickly turns, looking at you curiously. “Sorry I didn’t come to the door earlier, I took a nap after I got back from patrol and quite honestly, I was too tired to get up.” 

She looks at you with a puzzling look, letting out a small hum.

“I didn’t stop by,” Her tone is a little more high-pitched than normal. “I was with Heather and Aimee setting up for the get together tomorrow. Speaking of that, you know, I really miss you, and I want you to come tomorrow. It’ll be like a do over, meeting my friends and stuff… I spoke to Heather and—“

Everything suddenly goes silent around you. Your heart sinks as the words come out of her mouth; who else would have stopped by your house. If Tommy was busy helping Maria, it apparently wasn’t Nessa, and you aren’t close with anyone else in the community. It must have been him . A lump forms in the middle of your throat, you feel like someone just punched you in the gut. You look at Nessa, she’s still talking, but you cannot hear a single thing she’s saying. You passively start nodding. A ringing begins to take over. You need to get home, you directed yourself. You nod a few times more at Nessa, trying to wrap up the conversation, before turning on your heel, quickly making your way over to your house. You felt like at any moment your legs would give out. You just needed to make it inside. 

You glance over your shoulder, Nessa is still standing in the same spot as before, looking at you confused.

When you get back instead, you lean against the door with your palms flattened against it. Your vision is blurred. You begin to pace in your kitchen in the dark. If only you fucking answer the door, you scold yourself. He would’ve left anyway , another part of you butts in. Your thoughts are a mess.

In the darkness, your eyes lock on the poem hanging up on the cabinet door. You charge over to it, ripping it down. Your hand is shaking as you hold it in your hand. The bright orange color seems to stand out against the off-white paper. 

Pulling one of the drawers open, the same drawer where you stashed the notebook, you set it inside, slamming the drawer shut out of frustration. It bounces back open due to the force, causing your rage to multiple. 

“Fuck,” you say out loud, your lungs burn as you shout. How could you be so stupid? You think. Tommy told you before you even knew who Joel was, before you even met him, he was notorious for leaving. Then Nessa warned you, not once but multiple times. And you’re fucking surprised he left? You want to scream. 

You take a deep breath, walking over to the couch. Today has felt like it was a million years long. You’re emotionally, mentally, and physically exhausted. It feels like you didn’t just wake up from a long nap. 

You lean back into the cushion, resting your head on the back of the couch and stare up at the ceiling. In the moment, you notice how you feel; the anger, the embarrassment, the stupidity. The awfulness of it all— but you feel alive. And God does this hurt, but it feels good to finally feel something, anything to this degree.

Now, it’s time to really move on. For real this time. You think back on the day you arrived in Jackson, how you wanted to forget about Joel, start a brand new life. This will be your new beginning.

As you close your eyes, all you can see is his face. You don’t fight your visions. After all, this might be the last time you see it in its true nature. You see the intensity and complexity in his eyes when he would look at you, you feel the warmth of his skin when he’d get close to you, you hear his heartbeat when you had your arms around himself. This is the last time, Joel , you think as you fall back into a deep, dreamless sleep.

read chapter eleven here!

painting divider | credit: @cottage-writings

#farmerlarrry #joel miller #joel miller angst #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fic #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x oc #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you

[divinemare]

⊹₊ ⋆ 𝔠𝔬𝔩𝔡 𝔰𝔱𝔞𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱𝔰 ⋆₊ ⊹

┊⁀➷ nyx x oc

┊part eight

part seven

☁︎·̩͙✧

Nerves consumed her throughout the night, not allowing her even a flicker of rest. She kept replaying the conversation with Selah over and over in her head.

Even as she tried to think of her alternatives, or maybe tell someone, come up with a new plan, something that didn't involve taking the deal, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't come up with a single thing that would help her break free of this disastrous plan.

So, after way too much thinking, she got out of bed and wrote a note. A simple 'Deal'. Then the little paper disappeared.

Demetria bit her nails as she waited for confirmation, pacing impatiently until the paper returned minutes later.

'Welcome to the family’. She read.

✧₊˚.

The next morning, they were bidding farewell to their guests, and Demetria felt a terrible dread rise in her chest as she walked through the corridors of the ice palace.

Tomorrow was the High Lady of the Night's birthday, and though she was dying to accept Asterin's invitation and accompany them to Velaris, now more than ever it would be impossible.

"I'm going to miss you so much," Asterin said as they embraced. "Are you sure you can't come?" They parted, and Demetria felt a stabbing pain in her heart, but she disguised it well enough with a rueful smile and an apologetic look. "I can't, I'm sorry, I wish I could."

She broke away from Asterin to hug Kardam, the male was silent, but just as Demetria was about to pull away, he hugged her tightly and whispered in her ear.

"Be careful, Dem."

She felt fear rise in her body at those words. Kardam was a very cryptic male, maybe he meant something else that wasn't exactly what she was thinking, but...

Demetria pulled away and faked a smile that came up much more tense than she had wanted, and felt it tremble on her lips, but she didn't say anything else either.

She said goodbye to everyone, Hollyver, Elliot, Darya and the younglings, but each hug, each goodbye, hurt more than the last. In a couple of days they would all look at her differently, and the thought of that made her heart ache.

She walked away from everyone, her heart too tight in her chest and a lump in her throat that prevented her from breathing.

A hand grabbed her wrist and tugged so fast she didn't have time to react. But she didn't need to, she knew exactly who the electric, burning touch belonged to.

"We need to talk," Nyx said once they were out of sight of the others.

Demetria sighed. He'd been the first person she'd thought of when she'd sent that terrible note. Maybe, just maybe, Nyx could be her ally in all of this. After all, he was the heir to the Night Court, his court was being threatened as well. Her brother would be completely enraged if she told him everything, Kardam and Asterin would want to get involved, and that would put them in danger. Nyx, however... if anyone understood the good of making stupid decisions, it was him. She could trust him, she knew he would understand.

"Yes, yes, we have to."

"About the other night-"

"I need to tell you-"

They said at the same time.

"What about the other-?"

"What do you need-?"

Once again, they spoke in sink. Nyx tilted his head towards her to allow her to continue.

There was something that had been bothering her since that night, something she had wanted to apologize for, and she took this moment to do so.

"Nyx, if the other night is about me using my powers on you, I'm truly sorry, I didn't mean to do that, it just happened. I didn't see anything concrete, really, I think all the emotions clouded my mind. I promise I won't do it again."

Nyx's face contorted with emotions and confusion, blinking several times.

"Or did you want to talk about something else?" She asked, arching an eyebrow at his lack of words.

Then, his face suddenly changed. He stood completely still, cold, with a calculated calm that confused Demetria, as if he was masking a much greater feeling with that same look he used to give her when they weren't so friendly.

He turned away from her, as if her touch was poisonous, which only confused her all the more.

"No, nothing, that was it."

"Nyx?"

"I have to go, I just came to say goodbye."

"Okay, but I need to tell you something, it's very important."

"Goodbye, Demetria," and then... he left.

Demetria stood there for a while, staring at the spot where Nyx had disappeared with a frown, puzzled and too confused.

Nyx hadn't cared what she had to say, he just hadn't cared. And now she was alone.

Totally and utterly alone.

✧₊˚.

His knuckles were so bloody at this point, drops of red were falling plummeting to the floor. It had been three days since he'd left the Winter Court, and from the first day, he'd wanted to go back and apologise for being a jerk, but the sheer disappointment that Demetria hadn't felt what he felt... Well, it kept him training until his body was so sore, Asterin had to use her magic to heal it.

That third day was no different, his breathing was already labored. His muscles were trembling and he was completely drenched in sweat. But everything was better than thinking about her, everything was better than hearing her voice in his head, everything was better than feeling her disappointment when he backed away from her in his own chest, everything was better than feeling that cold wall made of ice spikes in his head and not being able to do anything to cross it.

"You have exactly 30 seconds to start explaining yourself, Nyx Archeron, or I'm going to break your face," Blaze's voice made him freeze and turn around with a frown on his face.

He hadn't expected his best friend at all.

"Blaze, what are you...?"

"Start. Explaining," the male gritted his teeth, in the century they had known each other, Nyx had never seen him so heated.

"I don't understand what-"

"Demetria, Nyx! What the hell happened with Demetria!”

Nyx felt his blood run cold and his breath completely leave his lungs. He had avoided her name completely all that time, and now for her twin to be standing in front of him, so furiously screaming her name. Shit, the Mother really did have strange ways of acting.

"Blaze, I can explain."

"Yeah, that's what I'm waiting for, a fucking explanation. Why did my sister, after apparently having her heart broken by someone, decide to marry fucking Abraxas?"

Nyx had never heard his heart break, never felt the air get painfully stuck in his lungs and the need to open his chest with his bare hands to take out his heart before it kept making feel like it was. Until now.

Demetria was going to what?

“Wait a second, what?”

“She’s going to marry him, Nyx, she accepted the damn deal!” Blaze shout, and again, that terrible pain pinched his heart.

Now a complete wave of wild emotions lashed though him. He tried to hit into that barrier of ice, hit and hit for her to hear him, but there was no response.

“I didn’t…I didn’t know,” Blaze looked surprised, what told him that his family had to know already, and none of them had said a thing.

He normally kept his emotions at bay, had learned from the best High Fae in Prythian to control the wild rushes of rough power cursing through his veins. But at that moment, it all felt like he was not going to be able to keep everything in him under control. He had never felt the need to explode so badly. He felt every kernel of power punch into his walls, into his barriers, begging to burst in a frenzy of emotions.

“I’m sorry, Blaze, I really don’t know what was I thinking, I couldn’t…I…” He couldn’t even find the words to explain.

Blaze was his best friend, Demetria’s twin brother, and he had been hiding it all from him.

“You think I’m mad you’re in love with my sister?” The silver-haired snapped, making him frown.

“Then what are you mad at?”

“I’m mad at you for not telling me! I’m mad at you for not telling her!”

“I tried!” He finally snapped, all the rush of feelings swirling up his body like a wild tornado.

“Did you really?”

He fell silent, not knowing what to say. He hadn’t said it, but…

“I-“

“Yeah, exactly what I thought,” Blaze sighed and grabbed the bridge of his nose, then got closer to him, a look of worry in his winter blue eyes. “Nyx, of course I’m not fucking mad that you love my sister, don’t be such a ridiculous asshole and use me as an excuse for being a coward.”

Nyx rolled his eyes and huffed a breath. “Well thank you, dear best friend.”

“As your best friend I’m in the legal obligation to tell you you were a coward,” the silver-haired put his hands on his hips, making him look way too much like his twin sister when she was scolding him.

“I know! Ok? I know, I just…I though she had seen it, that she had…” Again, the words got caught up in his throat in an impossibly painful knot.

“That she had felt the the mating bond?” Blaze finished for him in a soft, much more calm voice than before.

Nyx shot his head up with an incredulous frown. “How did you…” When Blaze rose an eyebrow as if saying ‘you really thought I didn’t knew that already?’ Nyx shook his head and sighed deeply. “Never mind. Yeah, that. But apparently she thinks it was her powers and not…that.”

That had been what made him back away, he had been so out of words, so pathetically hopeful Demetria would have felt as he had. And then he had ran away from it, from his feelings, and from her.

“‘That’ has a name, Nyx, you got to say it,” Blaze said with a sigh, but Nyx lowered his head without being able to look into him.

“The…” He closed his eyes, then sighed, feeling the lump in his throat burn more than he cared to admit. “The mating bond,” he finally gathered his courage to said it out loud, his chest sinking in heavily at the final realization. “Demetria is…she’s my mate,” a sigh escaped him mid sentence, his voice shaky and almost unrecognizable.

He had become a whirlwind of emotions and regrets, he had spent a hundred years in pure oblivion, having her right in front of him, fighting her off, driving her away, being too full of himself he never stoped to think of what he had right in front. Demetria had been there all those decades, saving him from his own stupidity, he hadn’t realice just how much he loved to hear her laugh, how much he loved to see her put her hands on her hips when she was scolding him, how her ears turned red when she was lying, how her eyes squirmed when she was analyzing him, how she always had an answer for almost everything, and when she did not; she went on and learned it. How she was so terribly frustratingly beautiful and deadly all at once, how she was full of empathy and love for those around her. He hadn’t appreciated enough the little involuntary smiles and bites of her lip when she was too concentrated reading a book, or how she loved to wear beautiful clothes that had always unknowingly stolen his breath. How he couldn’t see a snowflake without instantly thinking of her, how she was just so cold and hot and powerful and sweet and…so her, he hadn’t appreciated that enough, her being her, her being Demetria.

“Yeah, now I owe your sister some biiig money,” Blaze interrupted his trail of melancholic thoughts with a low whistle, making Nyx rise his head and lift and eyebrow. “What? Oh, don’t look at me like that, we all betted on you being mates.”

“I can’t believe…you know what, yeah, I can totally believe that,” he shook his head, a little smile spreading at thinking just how much money Asterin had made from that bet, because she sure as hell had bet on them.

“What are you gonna do now, then,” his friend asked after a moment of silence.

“What am I gonna do? What am I supposed to do? She’s marrying someone else,” being shot poisonous arrows would hurt less than those words out loud did, he cringed at the thought of Demetria at Abraxas’ side, and a wave of hot rage traveled through his toes to his head.

“Yeah, and so was your mother, have you learned nothing from history, pal? Girl who’s about to marry a prick from the Spring Cour=bad. A mysterious good-looking Night Court male who opposes to said marriage and conveniently happens to be her mate=good! Now go get your happy ending too!” Blaze’s face, in other circumstances, would have been hilarious; brows furrowed and accusing look.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Nyx shook his head, heading off to clean his sweat with a towel, in reality, just finding an excuse to get away of Blaze’s scrutinizing gaze.

“Oh my…is this a Night Court male thing? You’re all trying to have a last-moment moral or what?”

“It’s just…she’s planning something.”

He had been thinking about it, he knew Demetria all too well to think she was doing all this just for spite, she would never, in a millennia, marry a male like Abraxas just because, leaving her court, her home, and her dreams for a weak, selfish and fool male. Hell no. There had to be something else, something hidden in all that. He just knew it.

It just had to be.

“Of course she’s planning something! To ruin her life!”

“No it’s not…it’s not that. Why would your sister, of all people, willingly choose to marry the male she hates the most?” He turned around to look at the silver haired again, eyebrows furrowed together.

“I’m sorry to break it to you my friend, but you’re the male she hates the most, and she did not agreed to marry you, in fact, she heavily rejected-”

“Yeah, ok, I got the point. Thank you,” he rolled his eyes, turning back away from his mocking friend.

“But you’re right, I thought so too. I questioned her this morning about it but she just…shut me out completely, that’s why I came here to talk to you, Demetria never shuts me out like that. She’s shutting everyone out, in fact. My mother, my father, even my aunt. No one has been able to really talk to her.”

“And you think she’ll listen to me? Of all people?”

“Oh hell no, she’s going to tell you to go fuck yourself, that’s for sure. But at least, you’ll be able to…I don’t know, maybe know what’s going on, help her in some way. She’s going through a bad time, Nyx, I can see it, she hasn’t slept in days, she doesn’t look like herself. You’ll at least make her explode and scream, get some feeling out of her. You’ll make her feel something, Nyx, I know you will.”

That was what scared him the most, that not only he had that power, but she as well. She had the power to make him feel everything at once. And if he had barely been able to control his feelings today, he didn’t wanted to start imagining what would be like when he actually had her in front of him, when he heard her say she was going to marry Abraxas. Fuck no, that will actually make him snap.

But, seeing Blaze’s worried eyes, and imagining Demetria’s state, specially after he had been so coward he hadn’t let her speak, let her tell him what was wrong and just ran away, well, he gave a shit if he ended up killing that son of a bitch if necessary.

Demetria was his mate, and like hell he was going to let her go again.

#cold starlights #nyx fanfic #nyx archeron #blaze and nyx #nyx acotar #nyx and asterin #feyre and nyx #demetria and nyx #nyx x demetria #demetria oc #demetria and blaze #demetria acotar #acotar next gen #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #acotar oc #acomaf #acosf #acowar #acotar fanfic #acotar fanfiction #night court #winter court #winter twins #high lady of the winter court #high lord of the winter court #feyre and rhysand #rhysand #feyre #azriel

[fountainpenguin]

"I learned quickly that perseverance stood between a cat and her new best friend- (Me!)" (x)

---

New Dog's Life chapter today! ~ 3rd Life series fan-season

Chapter 14 - “Kindle (Pearl, Impulse)”

❤️ Read on AO3

💛 Start from Chapter 1

💚 More Pixels Imperfect fics

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Pearl's barely begun playing Session 2 when Scott calls her back to the portal hub. See, she's on the buddy program list, and there's a new refugee in New Star Station who's a little... Well. Different. His name is Rhetoric, and in the eyes of the game, he doesn't exist.

While Pearl sorts that out, Impulse mines the ore to craft a clock...

(First 1,000 words under the cut)

PearlescentMoon - Bat

Quarry: Etho

Hunter: Unknown

Allegiance: Lush Cave Alliance

💚  💛  ❤️

Pearl is on-server for what feels like eight minutes and eleven seconds before Scott logs onto Dog's Life, pleads for her, Ren, and Martyn to log out, and jumps off again. Pearl relays this information to Tango, who turns his head. He, uh… He doesn't push away from the thin ring of basalt that stands between them and a drop to certain splashy lava death. He's leaning over it pretty far. And that's fine! To each their own, y'know?

Still kinda stresses me out, though. Since ghasts can die from their own fireballs, I'm not sure they're fireproof… so I'm glad I'm not the one carrying those hybrid traits right now.

A ripple passes down Tango's white-tipped tail, though his expression is curious, not annoyed. Several ghast tendrils lie long and coiled around him. A few of them ripple too, and Pearl is grateful for the new mod she put (with Grian's blessing) that spells the word Ghast above his head. Finally, Tango does flip around, though he braces his elbows on the wall. "Well, I mean… He must need you for something pretty serious if he's pulling you away this early. C'mon, though… It's only been a couple seconds for him since you came on, right?"

That is weird… Pearl glances over the rim of the basalt drop. One relatively small ghast bobs below. It's one of the little ones translucent enough to show its massive beating heart. "I guess so? I've not actually taken the time to experiment with the way it works. It's so confusing living in Simmers' Quarter-"

"Oh, yeah… Yeah, they play around with time a lot over there, don't they? That'll really mess you up. Some of your neighbors pop back the next day zoned out of their minds like they've been gone for years, right?"

Pearl chuckles. Sort of. It's mostly drowned in the distant, warbled mews of ghasts and the crackle of the lava. The Nether air is thick with smoke. The oxygen is thick here. She really needs a drink. At least this should be a quick visit… She doesn't plan to stay here with Tango half as long as she did with Martyn back in Double Life. But if they get carried away… Cleo and Jimmy will understand. Probably. At least they have each other.

Actually, given Cleo's track record, maybe I do want to be careful.

She checks the comm again. You know, there's something pathetic and cruel about all this. The irony is omnipresent and its laughs tickle at her ears. Scott certainly wanted nothing to do with her in Double Life, even though they got along well the season before. They thrived, actually, back in Last Life. He won the season and Pearl made it to the final four. They faced each other in the finals of Double Life with snow up to their ankles, Scott clutching Cleo's limp body in his arms and Pearl holding a panting wolf by the collar, fingers wedged beneath the leather strap.

How fitting, y'know… all the snow. Wind whistled, swishing snowflakes through the air. Few words were exchanged. Mostly staring eyes and heaving chests. Puffing breaths, visible in the air. Wolves growled, Scott bent his head over Cleo's unmoving form, and splintered sparks curled down both their cheeks. It always ends like this, in Grian's games. They always start of fun and full of life, then tear her to her core.

She loves the rush. She really does.

Double Life ended in a burst of TNT, set off at Scott's own hand. And maybe they didn't get along, and maybe it had its miserable and lonely moments (especially where roleplay and Between interactions blurred into bitter avoidance, like he didn't want to see her at all).

Two seasons later, here he is… come crawling back to coax her from the dark. What's she to do with that information? Scott probably wouldn't taste his own medicine even if she poured it in a sugar spoon and shoved it straight down his throat. He'd cough it up and squirm and spit it right back in her face.

Well, maybe I could do a little better at inviting him out in Between… Without regular Empires interaction, she sort of fell off the map where Scott's concerned. Maybe she likes it that way.

And maybe I don't.

It's… difficult (hanging out with Scott) because it's easy (for Tango and Jimmy to get along; for Martyn and Cleo to have clear lines of disinterest in the sand; for Etho and Joel to tumble twinkle-eyed into mischief even after all this time). This feeling swishing inside her soul isn't even jealousy. Seriously, that is not the issue. Muddlement might be the better word. Confusion and muddlement.

And it's not hard because of Double Life, exactly, because roleplay isn't supposed to cut this deep. It's difficult for reasons undefinable. It's difficult because it doesn't have to be. Scott never meant to, but he made the rejection hurt a lot more, y'know? To do this so soon after he came out to her about the whole 'allay' thing and pressed forward, practically pleading for an extension of their queerplatonic relationship to cross from Last Life into Between. He was coming off a break-up with Jimmy. He probably wasn't in his best frame of mind, and the emotions of Last Life were still tangled and raw for both of them.

She did turn him down, though. You know, that's what really stinks. Why does she feel so much guilt about it, even after all this time? She really handled that information overload as best as she possibly could. She didn't do it over comm. She didn't drag it out. It was all in private, too, though maybe she could've waited for him to put his jacket on again. And she looked him in the eyes (most the time), and saw two little hearts break inside his pupils like shattered snow globes dumping liquid to the floor.

"I'm sorry, Scott… I'm not really interested…"

[Full chapter on AO3 - Link at top]

#PearlescentMoon #EthosLab #Scott Smajor #galaxy duo #TangoTek #impulseSV #clock duo #Jimmy Solidarity #Dog's Life #Pixels Imperfect #ridwriting #fic announcement #apparently art #Dog's Life art

[omgkalyppso]

Uncommon Questions for Étoile

from here

What’s the maximum amount of time your character can sit still with nothing to do?

Six years. fajshgfkjdah Am I exaggerating? Elves are long-lived, Étoile has had to sit through long winters, lessons from their mothers, and their Paladin training. They're fine to meditate or wait.

2. How easy is it for your character to laugh?

Étoile smiles really easily but much more rarely laughs. Étoile is very elf-y — and not exactly reserved, but in a moment where everyone else might be roaring with laughter, they'd only have a small chuckle. They might one day be better at big laughs, after living in cities / among large groups for longer, but even as long as they've been away from home, the awkwardness of having a big laugh echo through the mountain is kind of stuck with them.

3. How do they put themselves to bed at night (reading, singing, thinking?)

I think part of their nightly ritual is to look at the sky, whether cloud-covered or clear, to think of loved ones, and then to spend their time sitting up trying to relax their tension and maintain their posture as they find their trance and reverie.

4. How easy is it to earn their trust?

They'll give most people the benefit of the doubt except in exceptional circumstances, but if they feel their trust has been broken or abused it is very hard to restore it.

5. How easy is it to earn their mistrust?

Declarations of whole peoples, cultures or other groups as 'evil' puts a strain on Étoile's ability to trust someone, even when accounting for their biases. Also, they're forgiving of people who don't share full personal truths upon meeting, but how they handle their previous obfuscation if it becomes revealed is another way to earn their mistrust.

6. Do they consider laws flexible, or immovable?

Oh, flexible, absolutely.

7. What triggers nostalgia for them, most often? Do they enjoy that feeling?

Finding friendship and family and brotherhood with, or even just offering dignity to, those that average person in Faerûn would consider monstrous. They do.

8. What were they told to stop/start doing most often as a child?

"Stop leaning on things, stand up straight." I hate the b/g3 hunch Étoile has when they sit in chairs. But with that in mind, I think they hunch and lean and slouch because they want to be of-a-height with most people they talk to, and their mothers wanted them to be more healthy / economical with how they did that.

9. Do they swear? Do they remember their first swear word?

They do swear, but only rarely. Probably not, but maybe when Étoile was bored at eight years old and realizing that other children have the regular company of other children, they called tending to the temple of Auril "fucking boring," and were assigned extra memorizations and alchemical lessons to take up time if they had time to be bored.

10. What lie do they most frequently remember telling? Does it haunt them?

Well-meaning monster hunters, adventurers, people who imagined themselves heroes, would have worked many times in Étoile's youth to ask if they'd seen anything unusual (ritualistic, lycanthropic, etc.) on their mountain. Étoile lied to righteous people, but learned not to see them as innocent very young. Their mothers chose them and they chose their mothers, over and over again. Bones are scattered in Auril's frozen wastes and gather at the shores of her icy rivers. Étoile's sympathies are stilted, they are very much not haunted by the fates of these people.

11. How do they cope with confusion (seek clarification, pretend they understand, etc)?

Seek clarification. The funniest version of this to me is still Astarion thinking he's being clear as crystal saying he wants a little fun. From my fic (written during early access) :

“All I want is a little fun,” Astarion insisted. “Is that so much to ask?” Étoile’s lips parted slightly, teeth still together, their expression mostly unchanged, so their joy gave way to wonder, and suspicion. They knew what they hoped Astarion’s supposition meant, but there were so much to be said about vampires, some had even been true. Moreover, Étoile worried they had made assumptions about Astarion’s outrage from before, where he had admitted to being twisted beyond his control into torturing himself and others — as that would surely change anyone. Perhaps he missed pain, and it wouldn’t do to just agree to trying to indulge Astarion’s sense of fun, in case it turned out bleak or destructive. But neither did Étoile mean to accuse him. Perhaps Astarion simply missed a good riddle? Their tongue felt swollen in their mouth, and speaking risked breaking them into an even wider smile. Calm as they could, they managed to ask, “And what’s your idea of ‘a little fun?’”

12. How do they deal with an itch found in a place they can’t quite reach?

Suffer. hfdfjhgfkhg Wait for it to pass.

13. What color do they think they look best in? Do they actually look best in that color?

I haven't seen them in very many colors. I'll presume they think all the blue they wear suits them. I think they're not wrong but that more bright reds wouldn't hurt.

14. What animal do they fear most?

According to b/g3 canon it's a kraken and that was so funny and unexpected I'm keeping it.

15. How do they speak? Is what they say usually thought of on the spot, or do they rehearse it in their mind first?

I think it would have once shocked Astarion that Étoile only uses their present judgment to decide what should or should not be said, and doesn't rehearse any of what they have to say; but knowing them that it suits the rest of their conduct. However, it is something Étoile will have to learn to build or maintain alliances in post-canon, even with their generally intuitive conduct.

16. What makes their stomach turn?

A lot of things that I don't want to put in this post.

17. Are they easily embarrassed?

In sexual situations, no. In general, yes.

18. What embarrasses them?

When people frame their decisions as stupid decisions, lack of physical coordination, their age (too old? too young? signs of aging, etc.), their weird youth.

19. What is their favorite number?

Twenty.

20. If they were asked to explain the difference between romantic and platonic or familial love, how would they do so?

Étoile's strongest expressions of platonic love can vary from wanting to see a friend succeed and be merry and still feeling open to evolution to a different kind of love; to wanting to be in that friend's life forever more, wanting to share everything from discussions of romantic partners to financial burdens and (dark?) ambitions, cemented as friends through anything.

Étoile's strongest expressions of familial love is a hierarchy of loyalty. No one could ever be prioritized for them before their mother, but if Lae'zel needed them across the planes or if Shadowheart needed a temporary home or if Isobel needed a reintroduction to modern custom, Étoile would be eternally available with a full heart.

Étoile would have a harder time describing what romantic love is to them. Astarion is their first partner that they hope will be a long-term partner (unsaid, for fear of upsetting a balance: a life-time partner). Halsin is their first partner to ever use the word love so quickly, and a lot of Halsin's conduct took them by surprise. Étoile does love them both, and it's much more comfortable than they'd been expecting, even with previous non-monogamous relationships they'd been in. There's a lot of encouragement and support, and expressions of the value of a moment, and the value of change, that keeps Étoile balanced in how they would figure into any other permanent or temporary arrangements that either Halsin or Astarion would want to pursue, and how they can keep any doors between them from closing permanently even if their lives end up not fitting together for years or centuries, as is the case with elves (and vampires, Astarion supposes).

21. Why do they get up in the morning? 

To save themself! To save others! To try to do good in the world! To one day return home feeling worthy of having left in the first place.

22. How does jealousy manifest itself in them (they become possessive, they become aloof, etc)?

Aloof. Pouty. Irritable.

23. How does envy manifest itself in them (they take what they want, they become resentful, etc)?

Étoile's probably mostly good humored about envy. It becomes admiration and adoration for the most part. Although if they're already driven to the edge of their nerves, it might make them manic and bitter.

24. Is sex something that they’re comfortable speaking about? To whom?

Yes. Partners, friends, adults. They are capable of mature, sensible and sensual conversations.

25. What are their thoughts on marriage?

Étoile recognizes it as a way for people to celebrate their unions and their gods, to ensure protection of children and property. They've known people who've done everything to run from a marriage, and people whose marriages have not been recognized, marriages that have fallen apart or estranged. It is to them, ultimately, just another expression of a relationship that requires more observation to be understood outside the label it provides. They would hope to one day be married.

26. What is their preferred mode of transportation?

By horse and cart on a clear road, but otherwise on their own two feet is fine.

27. What causes them to feel dread?

Loss of autonomy.

28. Would they prefer a lie over an unpleasant truth?

It depends on the circumstance. Usually no, sometimes yes.

29. Do they usually live up to their own ideals?

Usually yes, but when they fail it affects many more people than when they live up to their ideals.

30. Who do they most regret meeting?

The people they hate most shaped their life in positive ways. So instead they'll say Aradin.

31. Who are they the most glad to have met?

Oh, speaking of which. Their guardian.

32. Do they have a go-to story in conversation? Or a joke?

They do but it's spoilers for the mutuals.

33. Could they be considered lazy?

I do not think so.

34. How hard is it for them to shake a sense of guilt?

Nearly impossible.

35. How do they treat the things their friends come to them excited about? Are they supportive?

Generally yes, but they have weird friends so sometimes they need to be a voice of reason.

36. Do they actively seek romance, or do they wait for it to fall into their lap? 

Generally actively seek, though they didn't have to do this for the events of b/g3, people kept shooting their shot.

37. Do they have a system for remembering names, long lists of numbers, things that need to go in a certain order (like anagrams, putting things to melodies, etc)?

Not really. Not more than associating the name or thing they need to remember with the place or memory of when it was taught to them. They remember the elven pantheon because they were in a library facing the north windows of their Paladin order's initiate hall when they read and reread the names of deities that their drow mother wouldn't even speak.

38. What memory do they revisit the most often?

A bad memory: Their Guardian insisting they needed to learn to use their illithid powers in order to save them both / defeat an undefined threat.

Another bad memory: It's a secret. LOL.

A good memory: The first time their inherent high elf cantrip, Ray of Frost, manifested when they were about seven. It would have been exciting regardless, but their mothers, both worshippers of Auril, the Frostmaiden, were especially delighted.

A sad memory: Their drow mother, in the temple of Auril for the first time after their human mother's passing, instead of giving her monthly service for those gathered in attendance, kneeling at the altar and praying in silence. The first time, and the next twelve times afterwards, until most people stopped coming and she felt compelled to speak again of her god with her fellow worshippers.

A happy memory: Astarion not turning them away when they suggested they could have something more serious between them.

A horrible memory: An Act 3 memory not in the ending with Karlach. Cannot say more without spoilers.

39. How easy is it for them to ignore flaws in other people? 

Depends on the flaw. Generally they appreciate when people are trying their best.

40. How sensitive are they to their own flaws?

They're aware of their flaws but take suicidal actions anyway. As Raphael would say, 'because they must.'

41. How do they feel about children?

Answered here.

42. How badly do they want to reach their end goal?

They would have died to stop [threat] and they would have given up nearly all else for autonomy.

43. If someone asked them to explain their sexuality, how would they do so?

Bisexual. I thought I was going to have a big answer for this but I don't.

#long post #oc tag: étoile

[justkending]

Everest. Chapter 12.

Series Summary: She was done and retired. After Thanos and after the battle of a lifetime, she had called it quits and had distanced herself from the Avenger lifestyle. But word finds her that someone from her past is in danger. What the journey entails was never one she wanted to face nor one she saw becoming her reality again. The rollercoaster that comes with fighting evil odds arrives on her doorstep not leaving much room for a no…

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 3300+

A/N: Slowly but surely friends, I’m getting ideas out for this series. Enjoy and as always, I love hearing and reading your thoughts on what you think:) Love you all!

Chapter 12:

The next morning, Bucky found himself to be the first one up and around. 

Had he been able to sleep much the last few weeks? No. Did he think, after helping Y/N in her grieving process yesterday, that he would be somewhat relieved and able to get a few hours of shut-eye? Yes. Did it come to fruition? No again...

There was no point in fighting the tossing and turning for hours that would occur if he stayed in bed, so he made his way to the kitchen to brew some coffee and debated on going for a run around the compound with Ryker like he had grown accustomed to before Y/N woke up.

To his surprise, in the quiet living quarters, while pouring his hot drink into his mug, he heard rustling in the hallway outside the kitchen.

He peeked over to the entryway from his spot in the coffee nook to try and see who was up as early as him. In bright red lighting, the clock showed 4:34 in the morning on the coffee maker. Steve or possibly Sam may have jump-started the day, but neither made it sound like they'd be up early after last night.

Ryker trotted around the corner, and Bucky's tensed shoulders relaxed at the guilty party. Until he hesitated again, realizing that even as powerful as he learned the dog to be, he couldn't get out of the room on his own. Or at least hadn't before.

His confusion was solved when Y/N quietly came around the corner behind him. What she had in her arms made the tenacity from seconds before reappear. She looked packed up, ready for a long flight. A sling bag was across her chest, and her sight was focused down, digging through the dark material for something specific. 

She hadn't seen Bucky yet as he kept tucked in an odd corner that was out of sight from the entrance unless you came a little further into the other side of the kitchen.

He watched at first, knowing if she wanted to, she would be able to sense him and know she wasn't alone.

But she never did show any sign of awareness. She went to the fridge, slid the backpack around her back, grabbed an apple, bit into it, and began packing a small bag full of snacks. Meanwhile, Ryker was drinking from his water bowl before looking at her with worried eyes.

Bucky knew what that dog's look meant from a mile away. His concerned puppy dog eyes were something he witnessed every time he came to pick him up from her room in the morning and evening during the last few weeks. Ryker would always do one check back on his owner with those eyes before leaving with Bucky.

He slowly lay out on the floor, looking up at her with his head on the ground as she ran around packing things here and there and pacing the room.

Bucky knew now why she hadn't noticed him. Her mind was not concerned with her surroundings. It was concerned with loading up and getting out of there swiftly.

Then he thought back to the night before. The memory as they all came back to the compound and Tony had mentioned them sharing a night of their own to catch up in the den.

______________________________

The crew had headed back home somewhat early in the evening. With Lori going to bed at eight, they got back to the compound a little after 9 pm. For this crew, staying up late wasn't anything out of the ordinary. Hell, most of their sleep schedules were practically non-existent.

"Hey, what about a late-night catch-up session? The old crew is are back together, and we've barely seen each other. Plus, you have a lot to update us on. I know nothing about where you've been all these years," Tony winked and grabbed Y/N by the shoulder, squeezing her side into him in a friendly manner.

All Y/N had to do was give him a small look with a little turn of her lip.

"Fine. Call my bluff. You'll never be allowed off my radar until I physically can no longer work a computer... Or dial Strange's number..." he mumbled the last part.

"I would love to, but I'm pretty exhausted from the whole day. I think I'm going to call it an early night," she replied, shrugging her shoulders as Tony pulled away.

"It's only a little past ten! It's not like you're going anywhere tomorrow," Tony teased.

But Bucky had noticed that earlier, when they were all getting out of the car, Y/N was already saying her goodbyes and thanks for the night. He knew she wouldn't be up for his ideas of late-night talks.

"Some of us are used to bedtimes at reasonable hours, Anthony," she laughed with a sisterly roll of her eyes. "Plus, as grateful as I am for today's activities and ceremony, it takes a lot out of  me."

The whole group knew better than to question that.

"You sure? Not even an hour or so?" Clint spoke up with Laura next to him. "We have the babysitter until midnight," he smiled, Laura laughing lightly next to him.

Y/N hummed. "I'm sorry, guys; I really wish I had it in me."

"It's all good. We get it. Truly," Steve spoke up, walking toward her to give her a hug. Ever the gentleman to listen to a lady's request without question. "Go get some rest," he hugged her before pulling back and smiling at her.

"Thanks, Stevie," she smiled back at him.

When the big blonde had pulled back enough for her to see the whole team staring at her with loving and caring eyes, her mood switched a little. From being content and somewhat back to normal, Bucky noticed that there was a pinch of remorse in her body language.

"To those I haven't had the chance to thank one-on-one, know that everything you all have done to help me these last two weeks, I couldn't tell you enough, even for as long as I'll live, that I'm truly thankful for each and every one of you guys impact and purpose in my life," she smiled with a little teary gleam in her eye. "I didn't want to get all sappy and emotional after an already extremely emotive evening, but I need you all to understand how each of you has become so special and essential to this world, but mainly to me."

Using her gifts, she flooded the room with a level of appreciation and love that words could never do justice. She may hate her powers for the intensity of emotions they cause her at times, but moments like this were prime ways to show others the feelings evoked by their compassion. 

Tears were hard to suppress after a genuine compliment like that. Wanda and Nat (how she got Nat to cry was magic in itself), Laura, Sam, Clint, and even Steve shed a tear or two. Or at least had glossed over eyes.

To the naked and emotions blinded eye, she was just saying her thanks for all that the crew had done a lot to help her with Marley's passing. But Bucky could sense the longing and sadness of her goodbyes. This wasn't just a grateful goodnight kind of passing. There were true sentiments and sorrow in what she was saying to them.

"I love you all very much," she sniffled before trying to put on a brave face and pushing through any further sentiments. "Goodnight, guys." She left with a single nod and walked with her head down back to her room alone.

________________

Back in the kitchen, that quick exit was starting to make sense. The puzzle pieces snapped together, and just when she went to pick up her first bag and escape, he cut her off.

"Where are you off to?" he voiced, snapping her out of her thoughts, catching her in surprise as she turned to face the noise.

"Jesus, Buck!" she shouted, taking her reflexive outstretched hands and turning them to lay on her heart. "You could have gotten yourself killed," she sighed, tapping her chest, and he heard the rhythm increase.

"Still standing, luckily," he hummed, taking his eyes away from the movement and looking at her with stern sights. If his eyes didn't give away his disposition, then the change in tone of judgment would.

She gave him a quizzical look since he had always been sweet and understanding of her. Now, his aura had a twinge of red outlining it. She had grown to know that hue of red far too well in this lifetime and what it's usually connected to.

She noticed his eyes move to assess the bags behind her before looking back at her. The red darkening around him.

"It's more complicated than it looks," she said carefully, her mind trying to fix the slipup of being caught but also not wanting to lie to him necessarily.

"Care to uncomplicate it then?" Bucky countered. 

She looked down at Ryker, who was of no help as he held the same look Bucky had. Judgy...

She gave him a testing stare, and the pet might as well have rolled his eyes before he moved to his water bowl area and lay down, staying out of the squabble.

Bucky placed his now forgotten coffee down without too much caution on the counter, to where the ceramic meeting the marble made a loud clinking noise. In a disappointed dad kind of stance, he crossed his arms, stared darkly ahead, and waited for her to answer his question.

"I don't have time to explain right now. I-"

"I know saying goodbye sucks and hurts, but you owe it to them," he spoke up. "You know that deep down, and you're letting your fears and worries ruin that for you."

She froze at his comment. Not expecting the abruptness of his call out. 

"Almost ten years for some of us. That's how long it's been since they've seen you... Sam is dying to make dinner with you one night and take you to a new Indian food place that he found after the snap. Nat had mentioned wanting to do a spa day with you and to watch the newest James Bond movie in the theater room Tony built. Clint and Laura mentioned coming up to the farm and having a stargazing bonfire night with the kids. They wanted you to tell them about the constellations. Clint said he loved how you explained them and wanted his own children to experience the storytelling themselves. Tony wants you to meet his daughter officially. He says she's a spitfire like you, and he doesn't know how to handle her sometimes and needs your advice on how to reason with her. Even if he won't say that himself. Steve-"

"Please stop," she whispered, attempting to cut him off.

He hadn't noticed, but with each person he listed, her head tilted further and further down. He looked at her downcast head and let out a sigh through his nose, looking away, seeing he may have gone a little too far in the guilt trip. But he had to make her conscious of what she was doing.

"Steve and I would really like to go to all kinds of museums with you and have you tell us about things we missed. He started a list of ones he wanted to visit with you as his tour guide. What better historian than one who's been through it all? And me?" He paused. "I would love to tag along for everything I listed and more if you'd be ok with it."

She was tearing up and tried to keep him from seeing her do it, but she couldn't hide it anymore.

"You mean a lot to everyone here. Everything you said last night could be said right back to you by a lot of those people," he said softly. "Don't mess it up by walking out."

She looked up at him from across the room. Her head hung low, and her shoulders slumped as she caged her arms around her torso. He heard her sniffle and try to push off the shakiness in her throat as she straightened some. She didn't sell it well, but she shook her head as she attempted to collect herself. 

"It's no one's business when or why I leave," she said with pain in her voice, and though he kept his face taught, he picked up on the feeling it wasn't just about the team.

It was about her. She was pained and frustrated with herself that she couldn't handle saying goodbye for real, and she was chickening out by giving an Irish goodbye.

"It's actually a lot of people's business," Bucky replied cooly with no bite, only slacking in his tension a hair. "People who care about you will make it their business whether you want them to or not." 

She looked at him just as hard as he was staring at her. He was disappointed, but she knew her true emotions were seen, even without saying them. 

"It's just," she stuttered for an answer as she took a deep breath and brushed the few tears that escaped. She cleared her throat and put on a brave face. Her eyes tried to find a response as if they were flying around the room, but she couldn't grasp one. "I don't know how to explain it. You'll have to trust that my reasoning is for the greater good." 

She moved quickly for the small brown sack of snacks on the counter, but he grabbed her arm and wrapped his other hand around the bag, brushing her own as she froze, snapping her gaze up to him.

It was far from a harmful grip on her wrist, something she felt Bucky had taught himself after so long of using his hands for the opposite. She felt a small jolt of regret go through him at the action, but he didn't budge, and she didn't either. 

Just inches from each other in the low lights of the kitchen, she watched as anger, disappointment, worry, and panic all flitted across his features.  

"I can't tell you," she whispered, reading his mind and seeing the begging for a reason in those ocean-blue eyes. "I promise once I get it figured out... I'll do my best to explain. But I can't tell you now." 

He shook his head softly, side to side, and dropped his chin some. 

"Why? Can't I help? If you need someone to-" 

"I need to do this on my own," she brought her hand from the lunch bag to grab Bucky's upper arm. The movement was subtle, but it brought his iron grip on the brown sack to hold the touch she had extended. His hand gripped hers and moved it on his chest without even thinking. She felt the soft thump of his heart, faster than normal but steady. She looked down at the movement and smiled softly and sadly before squeezing the metal touch where it overlapped over her own. "I can't bring you in on what I'm about to do. And I can't-" She almost slipped up, giving away a part of her mission. "I just can't. I don't want to do it." 

"What happened to choices?" he asked, and his heart broke at the desperation in his gaze. 

"It's my choice to leave you out of this." Her answer was simple and didn't leave any room for him to barter. "I have to go, Buck." She began pulling away, but he used his grip to tug her back to him but didn't expect the force he used to pull her fully into his chest. His hand holding hers to his heart didn't falter, and he rubbed a thumb over the back of it.

He looked down at her, and she looked up at him with a mirrored face. She didn't want to go. He could tell, and he didn't want to see her gone either. The regret that he couldn't stop her ate at him, and the regret that she had to do it this way pricked at her. 

"I'm sorry," she said softly, looking at his eyes and briefly, for just a fleeting moment, at his mouth. She closed her eyes before she fell into his chest and moved to wrap her arms around him. 

A hug, he wasn't expecting it, but it took him milliseconds to fall into it himself. His arms wrapped around her back, and he held her to him as she gripped him tightly around his torso. They stayed like that for only ten seconds, his chin resting on top of her head before she pulled away. Each second was cherished and locked into the filing cabinet he had labeled for her in his mind.

She looked up at him one more time in their embrace before taking a step, then another backward. He didn't fight losing his grip on her this time. 

She had passed to him her energy in the current moment and though he hated it, he somehow knew why. No words to describe it. Only a gut feeling and a sense of understanding sat in him now. 

Despite the feeling, he wanted to still go with her. Still wanted to know how he could help, but he knew she would do things her way, and he'd have no real say in it. He couldn't. It wasn't his choice in the matter. 

"You're a truly remarkable person, Bucky," she said, pausing after getting her luggage back in sorts, Ryker prepped, and turning to him as she walked to the elevator. "One the world doesn't deserve and will probably never truly deserve."

It hurt knowing she had to do it this way... To him. But she truly was keeping him from the worst outcome.

They didn't break eye contact up until the point that the elevators did it for them. And once the metal doors sealed shut, Bucky couldn't pull his eyes away from the silver shine of them.

_____________

"Barnes, I know Y/N leaving now is the last thing either of us want-" Tony started but cut himself off as he clicked some things on his computer, focusing back on the screen for more than a moment. 

"But..." Steve groaned next to Bucky and Nat. 

Bucky had gone straight to Steve after Y/N left the compound, and Nat happened to overhear. Steve looked disappointed at the news like Bucky had been, and Nat looked ready to demolish another body mannequin in training. 

Now they were in the Stark's garage after relaying the information to him.

"But I think there is a positive to this scenerio." 

The three just stared blankly at him until he further explained. Their shared friend leaving in the early morning without any warning didn't have a good side to it in their eyes. 

"I found some information. Some things we need to talk about. Let's just say it's case-sensitive to Y/N, and she's better off thousands of miles away right now than down the hall from what I found."

Bucky's eyebrows furrowed, Nat's rose, and Steve raised one.

"What are you talking about, Stark?" Steve questioned what everyone else was thinking.

"We got a hit?" Nat asked, and the two men next to her looked at her bewildered.

"Friday came in clutch, as the kids are saying," Tony winked. "Otherwise known as, I'm a badass genius and found some spying loopholes." 

"Can someone fill us in on what the hell you're talking about?" Bucky groaned, crossing his arms and glaring at the two.

"It's best if I show you."

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#bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes x enhanced reader #bucky barnes #justkending #marvel #marvel fanfic #marvel series #mcu #mcu series #mcu fanfic #avenger reader #bucky barnes x avenger reader #reader insert

[iviarellereads]

The Eye of the World, Chapter 21 - Listen to the Wind

(THIS PROJECT IS SPOILER FREE! No spoilers past the chapter you click on. Curious what I'm doing here? Read this post! For the link index and a primer on The Wheel of Time, read this one!)

(Staff icon) In which we have our first entire chapter from a different point of view!

Nynaeve awakens with the sunrise, confused for a moment where she is. Then she gets annoyed at herself for falling asleep, worries at losing the younger ones, gets angry at herself for even thinking they might not have survived.(1) She rides down river, keeping an eye out for tracks, in case anyone crossed the river who she can track down. Eventually she smells woodsmoke, and sneaks toward it.

She finds Lan dismounting from his horse, Moiraine sitting beside a fire, boiling a kettle. Nynaeve doesn't reveal herself, just listens. Lan tells Moiraine that the Myrddraal are gone, and the Trollocs, but he's worried that there must have been a thousand of them. How did they get there, so many at once? If there are that many Trollocs, they could overwhelm the Borderlands at any time.

Moiraine says coolly that the whole world will be overrun in five years if they don't find the boys. She knows where one is, and two were downriver before the connection "faded away as I found it". Then she makes a cryptic comment about "if you watch the wolf too hard, a mouse will bite you on the ankle" and tells Nynaeve she can come out from behind her tree if she likes.

Lan almost looks embarrassed that he didn't notice Nynaeve there. Nyn approaches Mo, but Lan stops her with an arm like iron. Mo offers tea, Nyn refuses and asks what "dirty Aes Sedai schemes" Mo's gotten the Emond's Fielders into.

Mo nonchalantly informs Nyn that she's got little room to talk, since she can wield the One Power herself, sometimes. Nyn says Mo might as well accuse her of being a Trolloc. Mo points out that Nyn sensed the potential in Egg, too, and she (Mo) could tell as soon as Nyn approached, if she hadn't been distracted by building the fire.

Even Lan seems surprised at this, and watches Nyn speculatively. Nyn says she won't listen to any more of this, but Mo points out how surprised Emond's Field was that their Wisdom hadn't predicted the late spring accurately, how she could heal injuries that should have disabled people so that there wasn't even a twinge or a limp. Mo even guesses how it started.

“Perhaps as much as eight or ten years ago—the age varies, but always comes young—there was something you wanted more than anything else in the world, something you needed. And you got it. A branch suddenly falling where you could pull yourself out of a pond instead of drowning. A friend, or a pet, getting well when everyone thought they would die. “You felt nothing special at the time, but a week or ten days later you had your first reaction to touching the True Source. Perhaps fever and chills that came on suddenly and put you to bed, then disappeared after only a few hours. None of the reactions, and they vary, lasts more than a few hours. Headaches and numbness and exhilaration all mixed together, and you taking foolish chances or acting giddy.(2) A spell of dizziness, when you tripped and stumbled whenever you tried to move, when you could not say a sentence without your tongue mangling half the words. There are others. Do you remember?”

Mo goes on to explain how Nyn formed a connection with those she'd healed, she could probably when they were nearby, and it's how she found them at the inn. Nyn admits that she healed Egg, admits that all of it happened much as Mo laid out. Mo says that Nyn is lucky, she developed control over the Power, or else it would have killed her by now, as it will kill Egg if she doesn't go to Tar Valon. Nyn says if she learned, so can Egg! Mo says that three of every four who can touch the Source as they can will die, eventually, if they don't get help and training.

Nyn remembers another apprentice Wisdom who died young, and eventually gives in, asking Mo not to tell anyone what she can do. Mo tells Lan they'll be leaving, and she fears Nyn won't be accompanying them. Nyn, in true reverse-psychology fashion, says she will too be going with them.

“Oh, yes, I will be going with you. You cannot keep me from it.” “No one will try to keep you from it,” Lan said as he rejoined them. He emptied the tea kettle over the fire and stirred the ashes with a stick. “A part of the Pattern?” he said to Moiraine. “Perhaps so,” she replied thoughtfully. “I should have spoken to Min again.”(3) “You see, Nynaeve, you are welcome to come.” There was a hesitation in the way Lan said her name, a hint of an unspoken “Sedai” after it. Nynaeve bristled, taking it for mockery, and bristled, too, at the way they spoke of things in front of her—things she knew nothing about—without the courtesy of an explanation, but she would not give them the satisfaction of asking

Nyn asks how Mo knows where the boys went. Mo tells her about the token coins, they were bespelled so that as long as their holders are alive and in possession of the coins, she can find them.(4) Nyn asks about Egg, and Mo says she has no clue where she went, but the Trollocs wouldn't bother her because she's not their target.

Nyn is torn between trying to find Egg or going with Mo and Lan.(5) A Wisdom is supposed to look after all her people, not have to choose between one or the other. When Lan comes back from retrieving her horse, his stony calm breaks, and his eyes widen at seeing her crying. She turns her back to him and wipes the tears furiously.(6)

Mo asks one last time if Nyn will go with them. Nyn mounts her horse, not really answering, but not going the other way.

Lan and Moiraine were already in their saddles, turning their horses south. She followed, stiff-backed, refusing to let herself look back; instead she kept her eyes on Moiraine. The Aes Sedai was so confident in her power and her plans, she thought, but if they did not find Egwene and the boys, all of them, alive and unharmed, not all of her power would protect her. Not all her Power. I can use it, woman! You told me so yourself. I can use it against you!

=====

(1) Poor Nynaeve. The first couple of times I read this book I was about her age and related to her hard. Now I'm only a few years older than she is but gosh do I just want to tell her she really is too young to be taking responsibility for all that herself, and she's so adversarial and jumps to conclusions so quickly that she never has a chance to give someone the benefit of the doubt. She creates so many walls between herself and other people, even between herself and the Power, since she doesn't have a conscious grasp of it. Anything that has the potential to hurt her, she pushes away, even if it would also bring her great joy and benefit. She cares for her village but she has to do so many things that go against her nature just to be taken seriously. She's learned to bristle at anyone questioning her or undermining her worldview. More… (See 5) (2) Side note: those are some funny symptoms for this channeling sickness. Do they stand out to you? Have we seen anybody with symptoms fitting this description? Or am I throwing attention at a red herring? (3) Remember what Min said? Nyn is part of it, too. (4) So, the coins were quite important after all. You may or may not have noticed, but Ewin said his was a silver penny, while Mat and Rand both got coins that Rand evaluated at quite a high value, sounding like much more than a penny, and neither showed them to Ewin before tucking them away. (5) She literally collapses here when she's faced with evidence she can't deny, that she can use the One Power, even if she's never known what it was. And instantly she seizes on the opportunity to use it actively. You told me I can use it, so then I can use it against you. She's also entirely too ready to feel smug. Particularly at Lan's failures. This is partly Nynaeve's character, and partly, I think, some of the attempt at matriarchal society conditioning peeking through. (6) One thing I didn't go into too much in my summary is how Lan is stone-faced throughout, but Nynaeve is attuning to his microexpressions. She even says at one point, surely his face hadn't actually changed, but she can almost feel his surprise. And he uses her given name only, not her full name, not Mistress al'Meara. Just Nynaeve. How familiar of him. How daring. She doesn't even notice… or does she? Nynaeve may be one of the least reliable POVs we've seen yet, because she hides so much from herself as well as others.

#wheel of time #wot #the wheel of time #twot #the eye of the world #eye of the world #eotw #teotw #wot staff icon #nynaeve al'meara #moiraine damodred #lan mandragoran

[ushitenevent]

UshiTen Drabble a Day, DAY ONE: Monsters and First Meetings

Now we here at the UshiTen Exchange understand that some of you are already personal subscribers to Ushijima/Tendou. Many of you already know the critical things, such as: Ushijima Wakatoshi and Tendou Satori are BEST FRIENDS. Or, for example: Ushijima Wakatoshi was taught how to read by Tendou Satori using Shonen Jump Magazines (REAL). And, of course, the most important thing: Ushijima Wakatoshi and Tendou Satori are monsters who are also teammates and soulmates.

But maybe some of you don't know those things. You know about UshiTen (of course) but you don't really understand them. You need More before you're fully on board.

To that end, the mods of UshiTen Exchange say: an UshiTen drabble a day keeps the Hinata Shouyo away!

For the next eight days, we will be giving you a short UshiTen drabble a day to help bring you over to the light. We'll be sorting through a variety of tropes and situationships because UshiTen? They have the RANGE.

And maybe by the end of it, who knows?, you'll want to try your hand at UshiTen too (with us)!

USHITEN DRABBLE A DAY, DAY ONE: Monsters and First Meetings (G, 600 words)

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When Satori was a child, he would craft monsters out of clay. He would give them all of the things that scared him—wide eyes and fanged teeth, pointed horns and claws so sharp they could pierce. His monsters were mean; they could chew through bone and swallow eyeballs and crush little boys between their fingers. They would protect him, his monsters. They were scary and they were not real and he loved them very much.

He thinks he looks like one of them, the first time he meets him.

Six foot two inches tall, with the kind of body brick walls are built of and the kind of intensity that breaks waves against shores. He has thick, serious eyebrows, and unmoving brown eyes, and soft hair that is either brown or olive or both. He never smiles and his arms are always crossed at his large chest, and he is relentlessly polite.

Satori’s monsters had always been protective, but never been kind.

The first time he meets him, he’s almost afraid.

“Wakatoshi-kun, eh?” he says, as a joke, because everything is easier as a joke. “I hear we’re on the same team.”

Satori has never been on a team before. He’s never been allowed.

“Tendou Satori,” the monster says and his voice is as steady as the ground. “I hear you are able to score points.”

He says it not as a challenge, but as an expectation. Whatever Satori had been expecting, it wasn’t this.

“Have you heard of me?” Satori asks and tilts his head, baring his teeth. If the other boy won’t challenge him, he’ll push back first.

“Yes,” Ushijima says.

“Most of it is true,” Satori says and he smiles, a bitter, sharp thing. It’s a smile made of fanged teeth and pointed horns and claws so sharp they pierce. “I’m scary, and I’m mean, and I’m intense, and I probably have a bad attitude. They call me a monster. A yokai.”

“Are you one?” Ushijima asks and Satori laughs, hurt and pleased.

“Yes.”

“I see,” Ushijima says, accepting this.

Of course. Satori’s smile dims. Even monsters can be hurt.

He turns to leave, when Ushijima says, “But I hear you are able to score points.”

Confused, Satori turns back.

“Yes?”

Ushijima stares at him with those unmoving eyes, a monster facing a monster. He is steady and curious and utterly unafraid. After a moment, he nods.

“Then, that is fine.”

Satori doesn’t understand.

“All that matters is that you are able to score points,” Ushijma says. The monster’s expression softens. Like this, he is almost human. “That is all that matters when we play volleyball, Tendou Satori. That is the only thing I care about on my team.”

He will think later that this was the moment he fell in love with Ushijima Wakatoshi.

Or maybe it was the first time he reached forward to help Satori up from the ground; the first time he sat next to him—not away from him—at lunch; the first time Satori knocked on his bedroom door and Ushijima let him in.

Or maybe it was the first time Satori lay down on the ground next to him after a hard-fought game, the two of them panting, sweat damping their temples. Their hearts racing, victory in their blood. Ushijima turned to Satori and smiled.

Maybe it’s then that Satori learned that there are many kinds of monsters. Some are scary and some are mean, but all of them can be beautiful.

All you need is to find the one that matches the kind that you are.

#ushiten #ushijima x tendou #haikyuu #a drabble a day

[theravenclawlover]

Hey!!

I read your prompts and I feel like the angst ones will literally make me cry 😂😂💀I know you just did one, but do you mind doing a Richard fluff with 15 &2??

lol the angst prompts are literally my favorites. and sure I can write for Rich again, I don't mind lol request away!

(Richard Camacho x GN!Reader)

You didn’t know how your life had ended up like this. You had graduated college, with a Bachelor’s Degree that you actually liked. Granted, it had turned out pretty useless as you needed two years of Masters in order for it to be of real use. So you had ended up jobless after college. But you had turned desperate. So you looked for odd jobs. And so now here you were, walking toward your source of income.

Four boys.

Singers.

A boyband.

You’re friends had laughed at first. None of the had believed you when you told them you had gotten the job of personal assistant for a boyband. But you were. And lord knows how exhausting it is.

You don’t take care of all four. No. Just one. Richard Camacho. He was your main concern.

You grabbed the spare key for his apartment and let yourself in. Today was an essay day, you just had to make sure he showed up for his rehearsals, and eat.

You walked in and set your cup of coffee down on the counter. You quickly noticed that it was all still too quite which meant he wasn’t awake just yet. So you took the chance to prepare something for him so you two wouldn’t be late.

Ten minutes later and his door opened. Revealing a sleepy Richard. Hair sticking up in weird places, sweatpants that hung a little too low, and no shirt.

You looked away, hiding the blush that overcame your face.

The hardest part of the job? Ignoring the fact that you had fallen in love with him. And you couldn’t do anything about it.

“Mornin’” he mumbled as he scratched his neck. He grabbed your cup of coffee, sniffed it, and drank from it.

“You do realize that was mine right?” You said with a hint of a smile as you tried not to look as his toned muscled torso, arms…

“Ye,” he said as he set down the cup, “not that you mind.”

You raised an eyebrow.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You asked. He looked at you. His eyes scanned you up and down. You visibly shifted as your whole body flushed.

“Yeah,” he grinned stepping closer to you. “You don’t mind.”

He turned around and left to change. You stood there confused and embarrassed.

Fifteen minutes later and Richard came out of his room dressed for the day. It didn’t matter if it was just rehearsals all day, he still dressed ready to go anywhere.

You didn’t even look at him as he went to eat what you had set out for him earlier. You just checked schedules, emails, and the like.

“The car should be here soon,” you said.

“You didn’t drive here?” He asked walking toward you.

“No,” you said. “It’s at the repair shop. I took the bus.”

Just as those words came out of your mouth you got a text from the person that was supposed to pick you two up.

“Shit,” you cursed softly. Richard looked at you. You looked at him. “It’s too hot out and a tire exploded. He won’t be able to get to us. He already reported back but now I gotta make a call.”

You had never been under so much stress as you had that morning. It wasn’t even past ten and you were about to have a headache from your bosses. It wasn’t your fault that your car had broken down and needed to be taken to the repair shop. Nor was it your fault that the man’s tire exploded. Longest eight minutes of your life. That’s how long you had to hold your tongue. You needed the job, so you just shut up.

You finally got to hang up.

“So…” Richard looked at you, “…No practice?”

“Nope.” You threw yourself next to him on the couch. “At least not for you. Chris, Zabdiel, and Erick are already there. It might take hours before anyone can pick you up. And lord knows how long traffic is by then.”

You two sat there in silence. Which was always impossible for you as your mind was rather loud. And there was something bugging you since that morning.

“What did you mean by it?” You asked without looking at him.

He turned to you and let out a chuckle.

“You mean about the comment I made?”

You nodded. He chuckled again.

“I know you like me.”

Oh how you wished you could crawl into the ground to never be found again.

You slowly turned to look at Richard who was looking at you try to form words but nothing came out. You looked stupid. He smiled.

“You’re pretty obvious about it.”

Was he trying to just mortify you?

“Are you mocking me right now?” You asked slightly ticked off.

“No,” he said quickly. “I just find it funny that for someone that can’t keep their eyes off me, you never noticed how I did the same thing.”

Your brain had stopped working. Like nothing was happening. You started at him wide eyed. Mouth slight agape.

“I’ve liked you for a while,” he said softly, his usual confidence lowering. “It’s been so much more than that for a while.”

You swallowed hard, blinking a couple of times before regaining some of your words.

“So…you mean to tell me that…” you inhaled. The released, “…this whole time you loved me too?”

Richard began to smile, a hint of shyness behind his eyes. One of his hands grabbed cup the side of your face.

“Yeah,” he nodded. “That’s what I’m saying.”

You didn’t know what to believe. What to think. How to feel. You didn’t even know how to even follow that up. Basic words were failing you again.

He chuckled.

“Was it too much?” He asked jokingly. You nodded dumbly. He laughed.

“Alright. Say a word. Anything,” he smiled. “I’ll do it.”

Oh, he so was trying to just make you self combust. But you opened your mouth and sighed,

“Kiss me.”

There was no hesitation as he leaned in and kissed your mouth. His lips finally against yours. You sighed into the kiss as his hand held you there. Your body melting into his.

“You’re so going to get me fired,” you mumbled against his lips. He smiled.

“Mhm, worth it.”

#theravenclawlover #may 2022 #Richard Camacho #richard camacho x reader #Richard Camacho fluff #CNCO

[dylanwritesgood]

All your faith, all your rage | Chapter 4

masterlist | ko-fi | ask

Part: One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine

Summary: Gareth is relearning how to deal with high school after sudden hearing loss, and Eddie sees in him another little sheepie to rescue. Set before ST4.

Pairings: Eddie Munson & Gareth Emerson, Hellfire Club, Corroded Coffin

Word count: 3,309

Warnings: bullying, minor violence towards MC, hurt/comfort, autistic and deaf character written by an autistic and deaf author

Read on Ao3

A/N: So, I'm gonna admit that I fully have zero idea about how high school classes and periods work because I was home-schooled my whole life and high school was like, over a decade ago for me anyways. Just roll with it, okay?

Here's the tape Kim found: Exorcism on YouTube

Also, if you didn't know/notice, I pulled the Hellfire Club members from this BTS picture. Gareth gives major "baby of the group" vibes here and I love it.

The Emersons had agreed to allow Gareth’s friends to come play that weekend, but Janet had banished them to the garage since their house was a little too small to host nine rambunctious teenagers and it was just barely beginning to turn chilly as October met them. His dad had helped him clear some space and arrange a few card tables into a longer surface for them to gather around, rounding up mismatched chairs from around the house. 

Together, they tugged the rug under Gareth’s drum kit to pull it off to the side. It had been draped under its sheet since the last time he’d played, sometime in the spring, and the layer of dust puffing up as they shifted it made Gareth’s heart hurt. He’d spent a lot less time with his kit when he was in band and was just drilling rudiments all the time, but he’d still try to find time to slip on some headphones and play along to a tape. Those days were over, he guessed.

Gareth probably shouldn’t have been surprised that Eddie was the first to show up in his shitty brown van. He was meticulous about setting up, so of course, he’d be here early.

“Hey,” Gareth greeted from the open garage as Eddie strolled up the driveway, “We’ve been banished out here.”

Eddie flashed him an easy grin and a thumbs up. The garage was fine by him. Better than that one time they’d tried to cram into his trailer before Gareth had joined. He had his duffle bag of game stuff slung over his shoulder and a case of Mountain Dew in his hand as he sauntered into the garage. 

“Nice digs,” he commented, setting everything down and deciding which end of the table he’d declare the head and claim for himself. He decided on the end towards the back of the garage and unzipped his bag to grab his DM supplies. The garage light flashed overhead and Eddie looked up in confusion before looking around.

Gareth had already turned, knowing his mom was at the door leading into the house, trying to get his attention. “Yeah?”

Eddie watched her talk to him, deliberate with her words and gestures. Checking in to see if he could take out the trash before his friends got here. Asking if his friends would eat pepperoni pizza, or if she should get one cheese (Eddie knew the pizza place in town had a large one-topping special, but for some reason, plain cheese rung up at full price—which sucked because that was a no topping pizza in Eddie’s opinion and should count). She was so good with Gareth. Not too slow, not too loud, just careful to ask one thing at a time and wait for him to match up words to the shapes of her lips and come up with an answer. Eddie tried, but it was hard for him to be slow.

“Pepperoni’s fine, Mrs. Emerson,” he interjected from where he was setting up, “Thanks. We eat anything.”

Gareth hadn’t realized Eddie had said something because he was following the change in his mom’s gaze with a confused expression until he landed on Eddie. Then it looked like a lightbulb went off over his head.

“Oh, Mom, this is Eddie… you’ve kinda met…” he introduced the two of them, hands in his pockets and shoulders rolling in. They’d already met. Hell, his mom knew what Eddie sounded like and Gareth didn’t.

“Hi, Eddie, it’s nice to see you.” She was distracted, getting Gareth’s attention with a wave of her hand and then pantomiming carrying a trash bag. Gareth smiled sheepishly at Eddie and headed in to go take care of the chore. As soon as he’d made it past her, Janet turned her attention back to Eddie.

“He’d kill me if he heard me saying this,” she began, her voice lowered a little to make sure there was no way Gareth would overhear, even with the little bit of hearing he’d regained, “But thank you. He smiles again and just… thank you.”

Eddie blushed and shuffled awkwardly. He wasn’t the type of guy parents liked, much less thanked. “‘t’s no problem. Gareth’s a good kid.”

She glanced over her shoulder, her expression looking like she was weighing something in her mind. She must’ve come to a decision because she glanced back at Eddie.

“It’s still new. The whole…” she gestured to her own ear, “thing. Don���t tell him I told you, just… All his old friends left him behind when it happened. I know he can be an asshole sometimes but thanks for taking him in.”

Eddie gawked at her, calling her son an asshole so matter-of-factly but with no malice. He let out an uneasy laugh. “Yeah, he gets a little prickly…”

“It’s fine, trust me. I deal with him when he’s tired and angry and he can be an asshole. He’s my kid, and I love him, but a spade’s a spade, y’know?” Her slight Minnesota accent was so musical and sounded so wrong wrapped around the word, “Anyways, thanks for being patient with him and for bringing him into your group.”

“No worries. He’s a good kid,” Eddie repeated, “Sounds like things are rough, but he’s alright.”

The conversation came to a sudden death as Gareth rounded the open garage door, dusting off his hands and none-the-wiser to their talk. Jan gave him a little wave and disappeared back inside to order the pizzas and leave the boys to it. Eddie finished setting up his setup and took a step back to survey his handiwork. As he did, he brushed up against something that chimed soft and melodic.

Gareth didn’t hear it, but he did see Eddie’s face fold in confusion, then twist to curiosity as he checked around him to see what he’d bumped. He was standing next to the sheet-covered kit, though, so Gareth could guess. Please don’t look. 

His prayer was in vain, because Eddie pinched the sheet between two fingers and lifted it enough for the morning sun to gleam dully off the curved shape of the bass drum. He looked between Gareth and the kit, eyebrows raised.

“You?” Gareth watched the word form on his lips as Eddie pointed to the drums. 

Very, very slowly, Gareth nodded, as if unwilling to part with that information. It’s still new. The whole… thing. Eddie heard Gareth’s mom’s voice in his head, and he started to piece it together. He suddenly got why Gareth was so damn angry all the time. He’d be a wreck if he lost music. Hell, he’d be nonfunctional, probably. Just leave him to rot on the stained carpet of his bedroom since there was nothing left for him.

Instead of sympathy, though—which he knew Gareth hated, probably more than he hated seeing people talk about him like he wasn’t there—Eddie broke into an excited grin and made the sign for cool against his chest, wiggling his fingers happily. That was a sign they’d been quick to adopt from the ASL textbook since the concept flew around their group constantly.

“I mean, I don’t play anymore…” Gareth shifted awkwardly. They probably didn’t know he’d been in band because none of them had been, and who actually paid attention to freshmen? He’d never said anything about music, either. Better to just forget it. He’d packed his tapes and his vinyl away in a box in the garage and passed his Walkman down to Maggie. Maybe Eddie was a mind reader because he was holding up his little notebook with a question.

What kind of music do you like?

Not did. Do. Eddie had been careful to pick that tense because he was sure that Gareth probably hadn’t stopped liking music. No one stopped liking music. Maybe their tastes changed, but the love of it never would leave. Not even if they couldn’t have it anymore.

“Did,” Gareth corrected. “Did I like.”

Eddie fixed him with that look he gave someone when they were being purposefully obstinate. The one that read Are you fucking serious right now? Gareth didn’t appreciate being on the receiving end of that look.

Are you dead?

Gareth squinted at the letters. Spelling wasn’t Eddie’s strongest suit. “Yes, I’m deaf. I—”

Eddie shook his head violently, sending his curls flying, and jabbed at the last word. He meant what he wrote.

“… no?” Gareth answered uncertainly, wondering where he was going with this.

Then it’s “do” not “did”

“Easy for you to say, asshole,” Gareth muttered, except it wasn’t under his breath in the slightest, and he realized that when Eddie started laughing. He flipped back a few pages to ask his initial question again—what did Gareth like to listen to?

Gareth blew out a sigh through his nose. The box of his albums was up on a shelf just behind Eddie’s shoulder, so he pointed to it. “Grab that box.”

Obediently, Eddie did, setting it on the card table and looking to Gareth for directions. He knew what was in the box. He could hear the familiar clack of plastic cases shifting, could see the pained expression on Gareth’s face as he handled it. It was a cardboard casket for his life before. Gareth’s weight shifted from side to side as he stood, rocking slightly as he watched Eddie retrieve the box.

“You can open it. It’s okay.” Gareth didn’t think he could do it himself. He’d barely been able to tape it closed. Eddie produced a pocket knife and flicked it open to carefully cut through the tape so he could peek inside.

Apparently, the answer to his question was “everything.”

The albums had been lovingly organized by genre—metal, rock and roll, folk, classical, blues, jazz… even some punk. A good portion had come from Gareth’s dad, not that Eddie knew that, handed down as his son discovered something and fell in love. Gareth knew, though, which is why he couldn’t get rid of them.

“You can put something on if you want. Stereo’s over there.” He nodded towards the back of the garage. Maybe someone could enjoy it still. Eddie proudly wore his love for music on his clothes, and Gareth listened to a lot of the same bands. Had listened.

Eddie looked back into the box, flipping through and pulling out a cassette. He held it up for Gareth’s approval: Def Leppard’s High ’n’ Dry album. Eddie looked a little horrified when Gareth honed in on it and Eddie realized that he was asking the deaf kid if he wanted to listen to the tape.

“Oh, shit! I’m sorry! I—” he was cut off by raucous laughter as Gareth came to a realization of his own.

“It’s fuckin’ Def Leppard!” He tried to explain between cackles.

Eddie was just too startled by hearing Gareth laugh for the first time. The most they’d ever gotten out of him was an amused snort, and here he was dissolving into giggles.

“Jesus Christ,” he huffed, catching his breath again, “Yeah, throw it on. Not like I care.”

Kim arrived just as Eddie was adjusting the volume of the stereo after hitting play. It took her a second to recognize the artist, but her eyes widened when she did.

“Eddie!” she hissed in a scandalized whisper, “That’s not fu—”

Gareth broke into another wave of giggles, trying to smother them with his hands, as he turned and caught Kim’s horrified, scolding expression. 

“Sorry,” he squeaked, “It’s just… it’s Def Leppard.”

Kim’s fury towards Eddie deflated. She felt protective of their sophomore since she knew how rough the rest of her boys could get with their teasing and their jokes, but it seemed he was in on it. She held out an arm to Gareth, inviting him in for a hug hello. He sidled in and wrapped an arm around her waist for a quick squeeze before retreating. Eddie would tease him relentlessly if he lingered at all. Before he could escape, she tapped the tip of his nose with her index finger, which never failed to make him scrunch it up so cutely. 

“Eddie bein’ mean, Gare-Bear?” she asked since she had his attention. He flushed pink and his gaze slipped sideways away from her as he shook his head. Kim had been the one to give him that nickname since his chunky little frame reminded her of a teddy bear—but then the rest of the group picked it up and it got a whole lot less-cute.

“Nah, Gare-Bear was showing me his music collection. Come look,” Eddie interjected, dragging Kim’s attention to himself. 

It was the worst-kept secret that every member of the party had at least a small crush on Kim, and they were constantly competing for her attention. If Kim was surprised that her deaf friend had a music collection, she kept it to herself. She leaned over the table to look in the box and smiled. He had all the party’s favorites—Metallica, Anthrax, Motorhead, Dio, Black Sabbath… those were just the first layer. The whole box was filled, clearly an extensive but carefully curated collection, now useless to the collector.

The collector himself was hovering nearby nervously, waiting for her to pronounce judgment on his tastes. It didn’t feel good, laying this part of himself bare for them to pity. But, of course, this was Kim—who called him Gare-Bear and helped him with his homework when he got stuck and offered to pick him up when they hosted sessions at Guillermo’s or Joe’s places a little outside of town. Gareth watched her smile grow in excited surprise as she reached in and plucked something out to hold it up for Gareth to see.

“Very, very cool,” she said, examining the label. “Eddie, Gareth’s cooler than you are. Look what he has!”

It was a demo tape from a Canadian band called Sacrifice, titled Exorcist. They hadn’t made it to the U.S. or released an album yet, but they’d opened for Exodus at the end of the summer and their demo had been floating around Toronto that year. Gareth’s cousin who lived there had sent it to him. He’d listened to it once before he’d… yeah. Still, he blushed a little under her praise.

Eddie plucked the tape from her fingers, eyebrows raising as he read the label and muttering, “Shit, Gareth, you’ve been holding out on us.”

Gareth didn’t catch it and glanced between them with that little furrow folding between his eyebrows. He guessed it was something positive when Eddie bounded across the garage to replace Def Leppard with the demo tape. Fortunately, the rest of the party arrived before he could worry about it more, finding parking on the street for their cars and trailing into the garage to begin their session.

Gare-Bear, we’re having a horror movie marathon at Jeff’s tonight. Sleepover w/ Jeff, Kev, Eddie + me. Ask your mom?

The note dropped from his locker door as he wrenched it open between first and second period. He could recognize Kim’s neat, cute cursive easily, especially since she signed it with a little cat face doodle and drew bear ears on the G in his name. Gareth felt like his stomach did a backflip and missed the landing. The little thrill he always got whenever his friends invited him to hang out with them outside of school was immediately flattened by the instant nausea that hit at the thought of trying to sleep somewhere unfamiliar.

He had a really strict personal rule—none of his friends were allowed to know how much he struggled. Okay, so he couldn’t help that they knew he couldn’t hear and it made communication a struggle and he startled easily. And Eddie might have an idea about how much Gareth missed music, and he knew that Gareth couldn’t make it through a school day without either sleeping or becoming a huge dick to everyone around him.

But they weren’t allowed to know about the meltdowns, when he couldn’t speak and felt like his body wasn’t his anymore. Or the headaches, or the dizziness, or the nausea, or the overwhelming, crushing fear of the dark that now plagued him. How incredibly terrifying it was when he thought he was home alone and rounded a corner to come face to face with one of his parents or his sisters. Or, worse, when he thought someone was there, only to turn around and have found that they’d disappeared and he was alone. And the little anxieties that nagged him from the back of his mind—that he’d never succeed, that he’d be trapped in Hawkins forever, that no one would ever want him? Absolutely not.

That last one haunted him in particular. High school was hard enough when you were nerdy, or when you were heavy, or when you were disabled. So being all three? Forget it. Even if he figured out what he wanted, it wasn’t ever going to be an option.

Gareth must’ve crawled too far in his own head and let his guard down because he found himself slammed against his locker with a rough shove that sent his head spinning when his forehead collided with the cool, painted metal. By the time he recovered, they were gone, and everyone else in the hall was acting like there’d been nothing to see. Resigned, he gathered his things and headed for his next class.

He’d started to develop a goose egg on his temple by the time lunch rolled around. Eddie spotted it immediately, seizing Gareth’s chin between his fingers and turning his face so the light fell on the contusion.

“Who?” he demanded, studying the slight bruise and the swelling. Gareth was a klutz, constantly sporting bruises and skinned knees, but his kicked-puppy expression told Eddie it wasn’t an accident.

“I don’t know. They were gone before I could look.” Gareth mumbled, letting out a soft whine when Jeff pressed his cold soda can to the injury. 

“And of course, no one saw a fuckin’ thing,” Eddie grumbled. Gareth didn’t catch the exact words, but he could tell from the angry resignation in Eddie’s features that this wasn’t new. Eddie was looking around the table at the rest of the party.

“Compare schedules. He doesn’t go anywhere alone.”

Gareth was left out of the conversation as the others hustled to figure out who was closest to his classroom between each period to meet him and escort him to the next one. Eddie would take him to the principal’s office after lunch to report the incident, then stick with Gareth until last period. Jeff would catch him after classes let out and would give him a ride home.

In the morning, Mickey would meet him at drop-off and take him to his homeroom. Guillermo was in homeroom two doors down and had Algebra II with Gareth first period, so he’d take that shift, then walk Gareth to his locker to hand him off to Vic. He’d take Gareth to second-period English, and Joe would take him to third-period US History or gym, depending on the day of the week. Kevin would take him to lunch, Eddie would watch him during his free period and get him to either Ms. Kelly’s or the library, then Kim would take him to his last class. And Jeff would take him home again.

Gareth had very little input about the plan, but also he wasn’t looking forward to it happening again so he meekly agreed to wait for each person to get him. He’d seen his friends upset about high school injustices before, but he’d never seen them so organized in devising a way to quash the problem. He just wasn’t looking forward to having to explain his new injury to his mom.

#stranger things fic #gareth stranger things #eddie munson #gareth emerson #gareth the great #eddie munson & gareth #gareth & eddie munson #deaf!Gareth #disabled character #disabled author #gareth stranger things fic #hurt/comfort #hoh stranger things #deaf stranger things #all your faith fic

[circethesinner]

the puppeteer ✿ close gate - chapter 30 ✿

pairing: steve harrington x original female character (can be read as x reader)

warning(s): strong language, descriptions of violence, mature themes 

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previous chapter ━ ✿ ━ next chapter

masterlist

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They’d finished the last remaining touches on the shed before taking Will out there. Bambi had been instructed to stay on the couch while they worked, which she had no choice but to follow as standing up made the entire room spin. She really regret having not practised her powers over the past year because she felt the same way she had when she’d been forced to push her powers to exhaustion at the lab.

“Stevie, please stop swinging that around,” She pleaded, looking up at Steve, who was standing next to the couch to keep watch on her as he practised swinging his bat. “You’re making me feel motion sick.”

“I just want to make sure my aim is right,” He told her, continuing his swinging. “And that I pack a punch in case those demo-whatnots come back.”

“But think about it, babe - if you tire yourself out now, what are you gonna do if the demo-dogs do come back?” She pointed out. “Your aim is already great, I promise.” He stopped swinging the bat and allowed it to rest on his shoulder as he sat on the edge of the couch by Bambi’s legs.

“You’re right,” He admitted, using his free hand to pat her on the leg.

“Aren’t I always?” She teased, gently kneeing him in the lower back. As she did so, the lights started flickering. “Shit.”

“Stay here,” He instructed, standing up. He placed a small kiss on the top of Bambi’s head as he walked past to stand at the door with his bat ready in case the plan had failed and the demo-dogs were on their way. Bambi sat upright and leaned over the back of the sofa, trying to watch and be ready to jump in at any moment if her legs would let her.

Fortunately, that moment never came. The lights stopped flickering, and things were silent again for a minute or two. That was until everyone from the shed - minus Will - came barreling through the door.

Hopper placed a piece of paper on the table and started writing as everyone gathered around. Bambi, shakily, managed to get up and wobble over. She used both Steve’s shoulder and (to his annoyance) Dustin’s head to keep steady. Steve gave her a disapproving look that said, ‘you shouldn’t be up’, but didn’t actually say anything.

“What happened?” Dustin asked as Hopper scribbled away. He tried to push Bambi’s arm off of him, but when he did so, she wobbled a little, still unsteady on her feet, and he gave up and allowed her to use him as an armrest.

“I think he's talking,” Hopper explained as he wrote. “Just not with words.”

“What is that?” Steve asked as Hopper wrote down a series of dots and dashes.

“Morse code,” Half of the group, including Bambi, responded.

“H-E-R-E,” Bambi translated. Hopper wrote down the letters as she read them out.

“Here,” The others confirmed in unison. Steve looked at her in confusion.

“Lab taught Five morse code, Five taught Eight and me,” Bambi whispered with a shrug. “We used to use it to talk through the vents, so the lab didn’t catch on.”

“Will's still in there,” Hopper told them, tapping the word with his pen. “He's talking to us.”

They quickly set together a plan where they’d communicate the dashes and dots through the buttons on the radio, and Bambi would help translate it.

“So, were you and the others at the lab like… friends… or…?” Steve asked quietly as he stood over her, hands resting on the back of the chair she was sitting on. He didn’t want to pry too much into that part of her life, given how crappy it had been, but that didn’t stop his nagging curiosity. “Uh… It’s kind of complicated….” She sighed, tapping her pen on the table while she waited for the first part of the morse code to come through. “The dynamic at the lab was… weird. It was more like high school cliques, I guess?”

“What clique were you in?” Steve sat down on the seat next to her.

“Not by choice, but… Brenner’s favourites, Brenner being the lab director who made us call him Papa,” She explained. “It was Eleven, Eight, Five, and me, against… Everyone else, I guess.”

“Why were you his favourites?” He asked. Bambi could tell he was genuinely interested to know more about her and not just about her history as a glorified lab rat. He wanted to know about Bambi’s past, not Seven’s.

“We were the most useful, or, I guess, most powerful. You know mine and El’s powers, but uh… Five could see the future, and Eight can create illusions,” Bambi watched the radio intently as she tried to recall her time at the lab without internally reliving it. “But because we were his little pack of favourites, we were on the other kid’s shit list. I was closest to Five, we were put together a lot since he could see the future, and then I could see his visions and take them like they were memories and plant them in Brenner so he could see them himself.”

“Do you know if…” Steve trailed off, unsure if he should say what was on his mind. Bambi knew exactly what he wanted to ask.

“Do I know if he’s alive?” She asked. He nodded slowly in confirmation that she’d gotten his question correct. “He’s not. I… I don’t know what happened… that day… but something went down. I didn’t see and didn’t get involved because I was in solitary confinement at the time since, admittedly, I was a little shit starter-”

“Was?” He said jokingly.

“Oh, shut up!” She snorted, glad he’d lightened the mood a little. “Anyway, I would be the one in our little group to fight back when the others would pick on us, so they always claimed they were putting me alone ‘for my own protection’, which was obviously a bunch of horseshit. Well, that day, while I was in solitary confinement, something happened in the Rainbow Room, and everyone but Eleven died. And I mean all of the other subjects as well as a large majority of the staff, so it wasn’t just like they were calling the experiment there and killing all the kids to get rid of them. Something happened, and someone went rogue and killed everyone… I say everyone, but Eight is still alive. She escaped a few months before that. She was always the smartest of us all.”

“Do you think anyone else escaped?” Steve asked. Bambi wished she could confirm for sure, but she had no idea. All she remembered was being locked in the little white room where the walls, floor, and ceiling were all pure white and padded. She couldn’t for the life of her remember what it was over, but she remembered punching Three and biting Ten. She was then dragged away, screaming every single profanity she knew, which wasn’t many at that point since she only knew what she’d seen in other people’s memories, but it was enough to cause a scene. Usually, solitary confinement lasted 1-3 days, depending on the severity. For most of the kids, if they kicked up so much of a fuss that they’d require longer, they would ‘rehabilitated’, which was just code for being broken physically and mentally to the point where you no longer had the energy or willpower to fight back. In that sense, she was lucky to have been one of Brenner’s favourites.

She had been locked away for five days when she heard the screaming. There was a gap in her memory after that, one she couldn’t explain, but she figured it had been a further few days before someone removed her from solitary confinement. The Rainbow Room was closed off, and she never saw the other kids again. It wasn’t too long after that until she made her escape.

“Four escaped once,” Bambi recalled with a frown. “He was caught after two days. They brought him in and killed him in front of us to ‘set an example’ for anyone else who tried to get away. That’s why I think Eight is still out there. I think they would have made it known if she was caught, or even if she died outside the lab.”

“Holy shit….” Steve shook his head at the information that the lab had executed one of the kids in front of the others. “That’s-” Before he could continue, the radio buzzed. It was one long buzz - a signal that they were just about to start the questioning again.

“It’s happening!” She called out to the kids. They all gathered around the table. Bambi smiled a little as Steve gave up his seat for Dustin to sit beside her. He retook his position of standing behind her chair, one hand on the back of the seat, the other on her shoulder.

“Dash, dot, dash, dot,” Dustin called out as the first part of the code came through.

“C,” Bambi confirmed, writing it down. They followed this method as the rest of the code came through. By the end, Bambi had written it down in large, red lettering.

C L O S E G A T E

“Close gate,” They all read out, staring down at the words. Everyone took a sharp inhale of breath as the phone started ringing.

“Shit! Shit!” Dustin pushed past everyone to pick up the phone and put it down again to stop the ringing. However, it started again immediately. Nancy grabbed the phone and ripped it from the wall, throwing it on the floor.

“Do you think he heard that?” Max asked, looking around.

“It's just a phone. It could be anywhere,” Steve said, trying to brush it off. “Right?”

“Could be…” Bambi sighed, getting up from her chair. Her dizziness had mostly passed, and her legs didn’t feel quite so much like jelly anymore. “But he knows that’s his phone ringing and that it would have been all too convenient for us to set up shop right in his house.”

In the distance, they heard the demo-dogs shrieking again.

“That's not good,” Dustin groaned. The group that had been in the shed returned to the house. Jonathan came in with an unconscious Will draped over his shoulder. Hopper took a little longer but had returned with some guns. Steve prepared his bat, and Bambi rushed to the kitchen drawer and pulled out a long kitchen knife. It wasn’t much, but it would have to do.

“Bee-” Steve tried to protest when he saw her with it.

“I know! I know! I’ll stand behind you, I swear,” She huffed, holding on to the knife. “But isn’t it better if I have something in case it all goes wrong?” That reasoning seemed to settle him enough to not protest any further, though he still didn’t look happy.

“Hey, get away from the windows!” Hopper instructed the kids who had crowded around the window to see if they could see anything. Bambi did her best to usher them behind her and Steve, but it was significantly more difficult than it had been at the bus to keep them under wraps.

“Max, don’t-” Bambi tried to pull Max back, only for Dustin to then push in front. “Dustin, no, you can’t- Lucas, cut it out- Mike, stop that!” She only had two hands, and one of them was holding a knife. She could barely control one of the kids with two hands, let alone four with one. The kids continued to completely ignore her failed attempts to stop them from pushing their way to the front of the group.

“Do you know how to use this?” Hopper asked, holding one of the guns out at Jonathan.

“What?” Jonathan stared at it as though he’d never seen a gun in his life. It would have been comical had they not been looking death in the face.

“Can you use this?” Hopper said, louder. Still, nothing from Jonathan.

“I can,” Nancy announced, moving past as Hopper threw the gun at her.

Somehow, Bambi managed to round the kids up with some help from Steve and situate them behind the adults and almost-adult teens. Her grip on the knife was threatening to slip due to how damn sweaty and gross her hands were, but she was determined to keep hold of it. She’d tear the demo-dogs open one by one if that’s what it took to keep everyone safe.

They waited as the sounds of the demo-dogs screeching into the night grew ever closer, until they sounded like they were right outside.

“Where are they?” Max called out. Bambi felt her hands clutch the back of her t-shirt, which was really just Steve’s t-shirt.

Everyone gasped and turned as the demo-dogs moved towards the side of the house, Bambi doing her best to make sure at least Max and Lucas were still behind her.

“What are they doing?” Nancy asked as the foliage rustled outside the window.

Then, the demo-dogs returned to the front of the house. Bambi couldn’t tell if they were prowling around to find a suitable point of entrance or if they were quickly being surrounded by the pack. She could only hope it was the former as it would be significantly more difficult to cover all of the sides of the house at once, even given their numbers.

A sound that Bambi could only describe as a yelp of pain rang out from one of the demo-dogs outside. There was a second of silence, and then one of the demo-dogs was launched through the window. They all took in a sharp breath in shock, waiting for the demo-dog to get up and attack.

But it lay there motionless on the floor as though something had killed it already.

“Holy shit,” Dustin mumbled.

“Is it dead?” Max asked. Hopper slowly inched closer and closer to it, not lowering his gun for a second in case it wasn’t dead. Once close enough, he kicked it, confirming that it was dead, or at least passed out.

The door clicked behind them, and everyone spun back around, their weapons still drawn. Slowly, the door inched open, the various locks somehow unlocking themselves without anyone touching them.

And then, she walked through the door, dressed in black, nose dripping blood.

Eleven.

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I can't believe I've written 30 whole chapters of this story - it's just over 60k words now which is absolutely crazy

I'm about to get a bit sentimental here sorry besties - 

I think a huge help for my writing has been changing my word count for a chapter - I used to make myself write at least 5k words per chapter of my fics, and I'd burn out so quickly and get discouraged because I just couldn't write that much and make it flow, and I would write for days and get 2 chapters out of it - now I try and just make it 1.6k - 1.7k words per chapter, then when I edit it they usually bulk up to 1.9k - 2k and it's helped so much because I feel a sense of accomplishment when I finish a chapter which spurs me on to write another chapter and then another - so I end up writing more than I did when I made myself write 5k words per chapter of a fic

also, the outpour of support I've received across wattpad, ao3, and tumblr has just been incredible and really encouraging - I love writing some of these parts and thinking of some of your comments and the way you've reacted to previous parts and wondering how some of you in particular (I'm sure y'all can guess who you are <3) are going to react to the new parts as I'm writing them

so as I've said before, from the bottom of my heart and the heart of my bottom - thank you &lt;3

here's to another 30+ chapters I hope! - I have to say now that the next chapter may be a day late, it's not finished and usually I hate uploading without having at least 2 pre-written chapters ready, but I didn't want to leave you guys without one! hopefully I can write more tomorrow and catch up

likes and reblogs are very much appreciated and I will give each and every one of you little kisses on the forehead for each comment you write :)

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

@missyviolet123 @littlet-holmes @buzzybee111 @preciousbabypeter @youmakemyhearthowl @joscelyn02 @wh0re4harrington

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