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trashmouth-richie · 26 days

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𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐬

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟓: 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐧’𝐭 𝐠𝐨 𝐨𝐧, 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧’ 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐰𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠

𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬, 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐰𝐡𝐲 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐟𝐭 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐭 𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐬?

𝐭𝐰: 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭, heavy angst! 𝟏𝟖+, 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝟏𝟖+ 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐝𝐫𝐮𝐠 𝐚𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐞, 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝 𝐚𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐞, 𝐚𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭

𝟔.𝟐𝐤 — my goal was 10k let’s all laugh masterlist

a/n: good morrow cousin, don’t mind me just vibin’ anyway— pls ignore the lack of formatting, google docs… count your days. this story still means so much to me, i won’t jump ship on it, and i hope you understand the mental headspace i get in while writing and how 🥰draining and crippling🥰 it truly is 🥲 BUT I DO IT FOR YOU MY LOVERS! ♥️😵‍💫

Sweaty hands were clamped in a bone aching constriction around your steering wheel the entirety of the drive to the club. Watching the whispy curls of dust from the gravel color the powder blue sky, you mutter to yourself.

This was so stupid.

Magenta hued beads hanging from the rearview mirror sway and clack together as you pull the car sharply into the your designated spot towards the back of the parking lot. Flitting a quick glance in the mirror to see if Eddie was still following, you tear your eyes away when the jet black steel of the fender catches the sun's rays, sending a blinding wink into the side mirrors as he approaches, parking alongside you.

This is crazy. This is insane.

Wiping your palms hastily on the ruby stockings pinched to your thighs, you wonder when the nerves in your chest would settle. If your stomach would ever stop churning with the rapid wings of a swarm of angry bees?

Why were you nervous? It was just Eddie.

Your knee bounces of its own accord as you remind yourself of just that. The dry swallow of the tablets you took before he could notice would start working in no time, and then you’d be able to stomach what you were getting yourself into.

Eddie Munson. A childhood friend. Taking a few deep breaths, you open the door into the shared space, and are met with that shit eating grin he never lost.

Here we go.

Green lensed aviators are nestled onto the bridge of his nose, a black bandana snug on his head that you definitely didn’t watch him tie back at your apartment as he straddled the bike before revving the engine and shooting you a daring smile.

Crunching gravel beneath his boots, he stands with hands in the back of his pocket.

“So…” he asks, hooking a thumb over his shoulder towards the club, “when did the Hideout go belly up?”

A sigh leaves your mouth and you turn to get the laundry from the backseat of your sedan, voice muffled, “eighty…-three, I think..” you say strangled like, as you struggle with the bulk of the laundry basket. The strap of your purse is slung over your shoulder when you finally emerge from the car and stand upright to face him.

“Here,” he offers, holding his hands out in offering his help.

Puzzled, you look at everything in your hands, deciding against thrusting the basket of sheets into his awaiting arms, you nod your head towards the car and step out of the way, “sure, my shoes from the back? I just gotta find the keys.”

Switching the basket to your hip you dive into the depths of your purse looking for the keys to unlock the club doors.

Eddie’s fingers curl around the straps of your high heels. A look of bewildered awkwardness coloring his brow. The aching reminder of his actions that damned you to this life were held between his fingers. Cheap leather material, a small brass buckle, plastic.

He slams your door in defeat, hating himself more with each day of being back in Hawkins.

Your hand finagles the key, jingling it out from the mess of your purse. When you look up with a sly little quirk at the corner of your lips for your triumph…Eddie has planted a fake smile on his lips… one that was buried within him before you can see the sadness in his eyes.

“Ready?”

Mrs. Click rattled on and on about WWII, sounding more like the adults in a Peanuts episode every second that ticked by. A loud yawn escapes Eddie’s already slack mouth as he doodles in the margins of his paper, a blue smear on his hand from the ink.

A crumpled ball of composition paper lands on his textbook skidding across the slicked pages and finding home against the wire of his notebook.

Without looking around Eddie already knows who the note is from. A simple scrawled sentence with big loops on the letters and a smiley face after the question mark.

“Lolly wants ‘sketti’ for supper tonight… you in? :)”

His dimples well deep in his cheeks as he scribbles a reply, stealing a glance your way. When Mrs. Click’s back is turned to scratch a hiss of powdered chalk into the board, he lobs the note back to you, hitting your shoulder lightly.

A slow smile creeps across your face as you flatten the note with your palms and read your best friend’s scratched handwriting.

“Hell yeah!”

…

The halls were quiet, Hawkins High students busying themselves with tests and worrying about grade point averages. Not even the janitor Sal was squeaking down the halls.

“If Ms. Judy catches us…”

“She won’t.”

“What about Higgins? I can’t get detention again, my dad will slaughter me.”

“Clove…” Eddie grumbled, stopping his task of picking the lock to look at you with the deepest sincerity, “I promise, we’ll be fine, okay?…just, shit, keep your eyes peeled, I’m almost… there…”

A wicked sliver of a grin plays on his lips.

“Yahtzee, baby! C’mon”

The door to the school kitchen swung open beneath his hand. The smell of Comet cleaner and fresh baked bread invade your nose.

The blade of his knife is closed with a clink on his hip as he bends low with a bow for you to go in first, “let’s go shopping.”

“Set them wherever,” you say nonchalantly, pupils adjusting to the darkness as you step through the threshold into the club.

Walking to the counter and shifting the basket on your hip tossing the keys on the bar, you wiggle off your purse, and turn around to see him standing by a barstool, looking slightly out of place, like a lit Christmas tree in the summertime.

Seeing Eddie in the club, in the depths of sweat and sin was gut wrenching. The club was accustomed to pleasuring pastors and preachers, cops and school teachers. They had all traipsed across the wood floor in their Sunday best, shoes shined to godliness… leaving with lipstick stains and reeking of alcohol. Sin on their breath and in their Hanes.

No, him being here made you feel like your skin was crawling, and that you were about to scream at any given moment.

Heaving the basket onto the nearest table, you take a wounded breath, holding it for longer than necessary to squish your toes along the muddy depth of Lover’s Lake. You spin to avert the lingering glances from Eddie, his eyes burrowing into you like hot steel to butter.

Slotting yourself behind the bar you holler over your shoulder, ��park it, I’ll get some drinks.”

Lights flicker and hum an exhausted tune as they slowly shine light to the grim bar, just enough to not be cast in complete darkness.

Eddie grabs the stool in a swift all too cool motion, sliding his long frame over it, the chain on his hip jingling against the wood as he sits, “just water for me…what?” he laughs.

You’re turned facing him with a furrowed brow, holding two of the cleanest shot glasses Queens had in one palm, the other steady on your hip, an annoyed look on your face, “don’t make me drink alone, Slim.”

He laughs again, a loud abrupt sound as he shakes his head, tucking his sunglasses in the neck of his shirt. A modest blush pinking his cheeks as his tongue runs over the sharp edges of his canines.

You haven’t budged, and Eddie finally looks up to meet your stare.

His eyes are glassy, dark and almost a sheen of velvet to them under the shadow of bandana, and the comical yellow rubber of the bandaid.

If eyes were the windows to the soul, you were familiar with his scenery, this particular essence was hurt like you, wounded in the same ways. The past showed through the forlorn strangeness of the last few years like a weathered map with all too familiar paths. Looking into his pools of deep darkness felt soothing in a crippling ached breath.

Features could change but eyes couldn’t, they kept you anchored to him stuck in the void of his mud.

It’s a game before you realize it.

A stare down… in dim light, eyes drying by the second, but it’s Eddie who folds first, no cards left to hold, or rather letting his opponent win. Like old times.

“Always such a headache, huh? Fine,” he exaggerates with a petty eye roll, “you win.” The crooked smirk on his lips gives him away, matching your own.

The two stout glasses clink together against your palm, a bottle of Jameson held by its neck in your other hand, “Not much has changed I see,” you quip, setting them down and pouring the whiskey into the first one, “you still suck at games.”

Eddie cringes as you pour the second, “trying to kill us? Do you not remember what happened on your fifteenth birthday?”

You erupt with laughter, tossing your head back and giggling in that little way he hadn’t heard since you were kids, “oh please,” you snort, thinking back to how drunk the both of you had gotten, “you don’t either.”

Eddie smiles, “probably not the greatest idea I’ve had.”

Sliding a glass towards him you hold yours up, the lights coloring the dark amber into a caramel pool of regret, “to us.”

“To old friends,” Eddie follows, in a grand accent, holding his glass next to yours, “burying the hatchet, stitching old wounds..”

“Alright Shakespeare wrap it up.”

“.. to you.” he says barely above a whisper, his eyes scanning your face, and you shudder involuntarily before tipping the glass against your lips and swallowing the liquor.

It burned on your tongue, hot and unwelcoming, sliding like lava down your throat. Eddie winces, making a sour face as he slaps his glass down on the wood top of the bar.

“Fuck, that's horrible.”

“Ah,” you say, pulling a lever on the tap and putting a tall frosted mug under the spout of draft beer, “it’s not that bad.”

He watches as you pour another beer walk around the bar with one in each hand. His cheeks pink when you smile at him, and he quickly pulls out a stool for you.

Leaning your back against the counter you sip your drink. The bar is empty but the roaring waves of silence crash loud in your ears. It’s strange. Being here with him, would you ever get over seeing him after so many years?

“I won’t lie, Clovie, ’m not much of a drinker.” Eddie admits, rubbing his thumbs along the frosted mug.

“Well,” you say, holding your beer up to your lips, and looking over the edge to meet his gaze, “today you are.”

Taking a generous sip you smile when he follows suit.

“Eddie Munson, back in Indiana,” you tease, elongating the vowels of the state, “never thought I’d see the day.”

He shrugs, tossing long curls behind his shoulder, “missed the scenery.”

You scoff, “yeah the luscious rolling hills of the trailer park really get me feeling like Julie Andrews too.”

He cringes, raising his brows for emphasis, “Those hills have eyes.”

“Eww..” your nose crinkles, “Craven outdid himself with that one, I still won’t watch it.”

Eddie takes a pull from his beer before adding nonchalantly, “that’s cause you’re chicken shit.”

Blowing a raspberry with your lips, your eyes narrow as you spit an insult. “This coming from the guy who slept with his lights on after watching E.T.”

“When he turns white by the river?! Fucker looks like a crushed powdered donut!”

It was easy falling back into the throws of jokes and banter with Eddie. You both giggle like kids talking about movies that had shredded horror as kids but now made you cringe with how poor they were done.

After a particularly long laugh about whether or not you still carried around your security blanket, Eddie sighs, “I thought this was gonna be weird,” Your nerves had calmed at the expense of childlike humor and talks of times long ago, that you finally slide on the stool he had pulled out for you. “us…. this place… Hawkins,” he bumps your elbow with his, “ shit I mean, we’re drinking in a bar, legally! Who would have thought?”

Your grin warms his heart like honey in a cup of tea, “somehow the beer doesn’t taste any better once you’re old enough to drink it.” The sip you took from your frosted mug was far from ladylike.

“You’re right,” he agrees, following your lead and taking a big gulp, “something forbidden always tastes better.”

Right now you felt like Eve, enjoying the fruits of company from Eddie Munson, and your cheeks heat. Rick hadn’t crossed your mind since he drove down the driveway this morning, and you’d like to keep it that way.

“…a motorcycle, huh?” you say changing the subject, “honestly didn't think you were the type.”

He shrugs nonchalantly, a little dimple pitting in the plumpness of his cheek, “Type? Like I need to be a colossal douche to drive one, hell…it’s good on gas, real fast. I got a buddy who fixed it up for me, owed me a favor for a cover up I did on his back.”

“Cover up?” you ask, eyebrow quirked, “like…a tattoo?”

“Yeah,” he says, swiveling on his barstool to face you, rolling his sleeves up past his elbow showing off his tattooed arms in the space between you both, “did these myself, just something I do for fun.”

His skin is embellished more than it is bare. Dark swirls of onyx branched out along his left wrist and up to the rolled fabric of his shirt, and you wonder if it disappeared up to his arm, around his torso? The marks seemed to flow like a river, connecting, gathering, forking this way and that, etching more pages to a story of an unfamiliar tale. You hoped to one day know its origin.

Without asking, your fingertips trace the outlines of the black ink, delicately following the path.

They circled around a rose covered in heavy dark thorns, dripping with blood. It had bloomed in a grassy knob made of lyrics from songs you had never heard. The inscriptions continue to channel along to a long silver dagger with a jeweled embellished handle of pretty emeralds that were shaped in irregular patterns. The dagger sunk into his skin and poked back out, shredding tendons and marrow in its wake… all exposed, coming to a point at his wrist.

It was as if he created his own armor, each intricate drag of the needle serving as a steady reminder that he would overcome. You can’t help the smile spreading on your lips, you had never seen anything more beautiful in your life.

“Should have guessed you’d end up being some sort of artist, Eddie, these are really lovely.”

He smiles, warm and inviting as he reaches for your hand, angling it towards him to get a proper look at the stick n poke tattoo he did years before.

A rough thumb sweeps along your skin, and the whiskey coloring of his eyes pour into yours, “I could fix this for you, make it look better.”

“Absolutely not,” you falsely gasp, “I love it just the way it is… besides you didn’t cover yours up either,” you point to the tattoo on his left hand. The small heart and clover were faded and blown out, a stark contrast difference against the shadowed dark lines around it.

You grin and meet his eyes. “Do you remember how hot it was that day?”

Eddie had always kept that memory at the surface, remembered as if it were yesterday, thinking about it often. As if your hand was still sweating in his, he could practically smell the peanut butter in your hair, feel the dampness on his shoulder from your tears.

“Yeah,” he says with a sad little smile, “I remember getting our asses chewed because we burnt supper.”

The light leaves your eyes and your smile fades, venom on your tongue as you spit, “should have poisoned them both… could have saved ourselves a world of trouble.”

Eddie’s stomach rumbled at the empty hollow feeling it used to play on repeat, if it weren't for you, he would have starved indefinitely.

“Juvy couldn’t have been that bad, THREE meals a day? Shit, practically a cake walk.”

“Yeah, lucky bastards,” you admit, a small lost look on your face as you drop his hand, mind wandering to the long forgotten childhood you were abandoned in. If your dad wasn’t screaming at you and raising a fist it was the neighbors ignoring the hollering and groaning of furniture snapping against thin walls from the Munson trailer. Never a silent hour in the park.

It’s quiet for a few beats as you drink your beer, finishing it a few swallows and leaning over the bar to grab the bottle of Jameson, pouring another round.

“So, the motorcycle, tattooing… you must be fighting off the ladies.”

Eddie laughs, his eyes darting across your face with a quirked brow, “not hardly.”

Rolling your eyes you sip at the bitter drink, “don’t be prude Munson, tell me.”

He scoffs and moves hair from his neck, suddenly interested in the bottom of his drink, “I’m not telling you the woes of my love life, thanks.”

“C’mon..” you pout, showing your bottom lip, “we never got to have talks like this!”

Eddie snorted at the pathetic pout you showed, “yeah and we aren’t gonna start now because there’s nothing to tell.”

Your eyes narrowed into slits as you scowled at him. “You’ve always been such a bad liar, bet your ears are red,” you reach for his hair in a feeble attempt to reveal what you both already knew to be true.

“Quit!” Eddie yells playfully, batting your hand away, “alright yeah, I’ve had a girlfriend or two,” he shrugs, “never anything serious.”

You grin at him lazily, elbow on the counter and your chin in your palm, even though your heart sank a bit at the thought of him loving someone, “ahh, see? That wasn’t so bad.”

Eddie blushes under your stare, “speak for yourself.”

He looks down, rubbing condensation from his mug with his thumbs. “And you? d’you uh… got a boyfriend?”

Your smile fades and you try not to shiver in disgust as you pour another shot. Slapping the glass down hard on the counter as you drain it, “I wouldn’t exactly call him that… it’s more of an… agreement.”

His face breaks into a jigsaw puzzle, “what does that mean?”

“Dont wanna bore you with ‘my love life woes’…” you interject, ignoring him, putting the tip of your finger in his glass and dragging it towards you. Tipping in more Jameson and sliding it towards him.

The buzz was tickling your fingers, a lightness took over your head as the alcohol seeped into your blood.

“Down to the meat and potatoes Slim…why are you home? I mean it’s not as if this shithole holds any happy memories.”

He brought the shot glass to his lips, sipping it down as you pour yourself another.

How did you not know that the only happy memory he had of Hawkins was you? He didn’t know how to tell you that it was the memory of your smile that kept him company when the nights were cold and he didn’t know where his next meal would come from.

He takes a deep breath, “my uncle died,” he squints with a puckered sour face at the burn from the liquor shaking his head, “Al is either dead or on another bender so…” he claps his hands, “here I am… met with his girlfriend today actually.”

You frown, reaching for his folded hands, tapping his knuckles, “‘m sorry, Eddie. Wayne was sweet, respectful, a regular here… to the bar, not the club.”

Eddie rolls his shoulders, trying to untie his tongue to ask the question that burned in him, “when did you um... start working here?”

Your stomach drops at his question, and your nails clack around the Jameson bottle again as you dump yet another splash into your glass. Your answer is muffled behind a choked swallow.

He frowns, racking his brain, “wait.. isn’t that…”

“My birthday,” you fake cheer, eyes too wet for normal conversation, “big 1-8.”

“Jesus...”

Eddie’s eyes shut in horror and your doomed fate. He covered his mouth with a fist to shield you from his quivering bottom lip. It was a far fucking cry from what he could have even imagined.

His eighteenth birthday was no glorious day either but he wasn’t forced to work in a strip club. His stomach churns, making milk into butter at the thought of your naive innocent eyes, and how they had almost hardened to steel in his absence.

The whiskey is working its magic now you’re feeling a little hot behind the ears, fuzzy in your head, dizzy eyed.He stares for a while over at you, watching in disappointment as you get clumsy with the pours, spilling a little on the counter and wiping it away with your bare hand, as you slug down, yet another, shot.

You stand suddenly, stumbling behind the bar and to the chip stand. Your fingers miss the clips in your attempt to release the snacks but they finally find home and you grab a bag, flinging it to him before opening one for yourself.

“Cool right?” you say, struggling to open it, tongue poked out in drunken concentration.

“Y’know I think most kids get a car,” the bag opens sending a confetti of salted crumbs and chips scattering to the counter to be crunched at your feet. Trying not to meet his eyes you talk to the ceiling, “maybe a crisp hundred dollar bill for their eighteenth. Clove? Blisters, a couple of bruises.. oh, and my name! Carved on the bathroom door, for a good time call…”

He’s struck dumb. Shell shocked and blinking back tears. Eddie clears his throat and reaches across the bar for your hand but you pull away from him, instead grabbing for the bottle.

“Welcome back.” you muse before pressing the mouth of the bottle angrily to your lips… foregoing the glass entirely.

Tipping your head back the now tasteless liquor slides down your throat with ease. An expert at coating the agony, you wait for your brain to lose oxygen and beg for an intake of breath, silently hoping you’d drown instead.

Years have passed of you dulling misery with anything you could get your hands on, liquor, pills, a little bit of nose powder… you’d tried most of the things Rick sold. And it worked until you needed more and more. It was a vicious cycle you were chasing.

But with Eddie here? It was nearly impossible to breeze over the truth.

When the bottle, in its near emptiness, slapped against the counter… a pair of dark eyes stare up at you, wide and sad, glossy with tears of shaming guilt.

Eddie couldn’t have guessed that your life was going to end up this way. He was naive in thinking that. Fucking stupid. He should kick his own ass for leaving the way he did, but his options were limited. Still, he’d wear the brunt of this mistake on his shoulders like a heavy cloak.

Your eyes were empty, lost, and he couldn’t handle it anymore. He shook his head slow, voice gravely.

“I owe you years worth of apologies, Clove.”

You’re more than tipsy at this point, and suddenly you can’t form words as your breath is trapped in your throat.

He was practically in tears as he tried his hardest to explain himself, tried to right this wrong.

“I was young, so fucking stupid..”

“Eddie..” As much as you wanted to know what happened it suddenly felt like too much, like your brain would implode, unable to process the heartache any further.

“Just listen, okay? Please?” He’s begging for your attention and you would rather melt into the floor. “I never told you, I never told anyone.”

Thicker than thieves. Eddie knew you like the back of his hand and likewise with you, so what the hell was he talking about?

…

“Check the back, I’m sure the canned stuff is there.”

The kitchen was eerily quiet, filled with sleepy rays of the afternoon sun, loaves of bread set out on the counter fresh from the oven for tomorrow's lunch.

You pad on tip toes to the back room lined with shelves of aluminum cans, and dried goods. You didn’t know where to start.

“How many should we take?” you whisper yell over your shoulder, “Two? Three?”

Eddie’s using his shirt as a basket, filling it full with small cartons of milk, shoving apples in his pockets, “Look for the big ones, then we won’t have to come back for a… oh fuck yeah, come to daddy.”

“Ew, Eddie!”

“Found some cheese!” he cheers, “we could make garlic bread!”

Label after label your fingers skimmed over the cans. Peaches, tapioca pudding, green beans, lima beans, and finally… in a can larger than your head, crushed tomatoes.

“Jackpot,” you whisper grabbing the cans and adjusting them one under each arm, “ready?”

Eddie’s frame fills the doorway, arms bundled with an assortment of goodies, a fresh loaf of bread in a plastic bread sack between his teeth, a joker’s grin wide on his face, “let’s roll.”

…

It was pure dumb coincidence that an exit was next to the cafeteria. You were surprised at the fact that Eddie's jeans didn’t fall down to his ankles from the extra weight of food heavy in his pockets as the two of you ran to his van and sped back to the trailer park.

“We made out like bandits, gonna eat like kings tonight, Clovie.” Eddie’s smile is spread wide as he helps haul the looted school food into your trailer.

Years of yellowing stains from tobacco use shown on every surface, a permanent haze of smoke lingering in the air, baking in the sunlight. Dishes littered the sink in standing dirty gray water, gone ice cold.

“Sorry for the mess,” you explain, reaching into the sink to pull the stopper, “I fell asleep before doing them while reading Lolly her library book.”

Eddie opens a drawer looking for a can opener, “and your dad didn’t come unglued? You must be Irish with that kinda luck.”

“He was passed out, I could have lit the place on fire and he wouldn’t have known, and he was gone before my alarm went off this morning.”

Peeling back the tin lid after pinching it open with the can opener, Eddie grunts, “yeah, my dad left early this morning too, said something about keeping my ‘filthy fucking hands off his stash’ and that he’d be gone for a few days.”

It was an enormous relief when it was just you and Eddie to fend for yourselves. Most teens could barely use the stove to make popcorn, but you had been taking care of yourself and Lolly for years. It was what you preferred.

Reaching for the one good aluminum pot that was stashed above the fridge, you pull it down and remove the magazine clippings of recipes you wanted to try or things that looked easy to make with the very little your cabinets held. “Good, glad they’ll be gone.”

Eddie sucks a tomato sauce covered thumb into his mouth, smiling in a way that made your cheeks heat, “almost like you read my mind.”

He’s hesitant now, fumbling over his words and brushing hair from his neck.

“I, you know I always talked about leaving Hawkins…practically had it all figured out by the time we were thirteen.”

You remember how serious his face was when he cupped your arms in the kitchen, his words branding themselves in your skull like a prisoner counting down days.

He swallows roughly, running hands through his hair, “I… I wanted you to… firstly…I need you to understand that I didn’t want to leave… not without you.”

Playing coy you brush off his serious tone, “.. stop.”

“I’m serious,” he sighs, reaching for your hand and your stomach flips when his calloused palm clamps tight on your knuckles, “you were everything to me.”

“.. c’mon Eddie, that’s just the liquor talkin’ now.”

“t’s not… and with me,” his eyes seem to grow in size as his sincerity leaks through them, “I’d never tell you something like this while drunk.”

You swallow dryly and nod, accepting that whatever he was about to say was true and real.

He takes a sharp intake of breath, as if this particular memory hurt him more than any other. His eyes were growing dark. solemn, and he squeezed your hand as he begins.

“I think it was about a year before I left… we made spaghetti with shit we stole from the cafeteria…”

A pain in your chest blossoms with a thought you hadn’t remembered until now when he reminded you. The taste of cheesy bread in the oven and salty tomatoey spaghetti invade your mind.

“I still can't eat spaghetti.”

A quick smirk dances in the corner of his lip and he meets your eyes, “yeah… me neither, I stayed over on the floor of the bathroom.”

You nod, remembering the sounds of Eddie retching into the toilet while you laid in your bed, a popcorn bowl keeping you company, thankful that Lolly hadn’t gotten sick. Even though you had gotten screamed at for being sick yourself when your dad and Al came back earlier than expected.

“Well, I was awake when they came home. They didn’t know I was there or even awake, and they were talking ‘business’.. you know those trailer walls are so fuckin’ thin, couldn’t not hear them.”

His eyes pinched shut like you would on a rollercoaster when it’s too scary, shaking his head, his other hand clamped over the one he held yours in, rubbing as if he could possibly buff out the callouses.

You can’t do anything but stare at him. Frozen in place. Scared to move, not even breathing.

“They had been talking about how some of their new “talent” wouldn’t be ready to go right away but… goddamn…” his voice cracks and he shakes his head before his demeanor falls and his voice gets quiet almost mute, “they had someone in mind to fill in in the mean time…”

No.

It shouldn’t have been a shock, shouldn’t have gutted you on the spot, usingyour intestines as a jump rope, but somehow, hearing this from Eddie’s mouth made it worse than if you were to hear it from them yourself.

You wanted to run away, to hide and never come out of a dark hole.

“… I hoarded away any nickel I could find, because we were going to leave. Together.” he squeezes your hand on the last word, possibly trying to bring you back to life as you stared ominously at the counter next to your conjoined hands.

The stagnant air is cold between you, and you aren’t sure if you’ve taken a breath within the last two minutes or not. Cold sweat formed on your lower back and any high you were feeling was dull, a competition to fight with your lucidness. Eddie took a few deep breaths before continuing.

“I replay that day over and over… how my dad came home, screaming about how I was a man now, needed to start helping with the family business stop freeloading like my mom… y’ know somethin’ Clove, to this day I’ve never touched that shit, and that was the one and only time I’ve ever seen heroin.” He hangs his head and you shift on uneasy feet.

“Telling him no was my first mistake, But I had to stick up for myself, had to let him know that I wasn’t gonna be like him,” he spoke now through gritted teeth as he admits, “but instead he swung on me,” Eddie chuckles despite the gravity of his words, “got a few good jabs in before he pulled those brass knuckles out.”

Your hand flies to cover your mouth before you realize it’s open in horror.

“I packed the van when I heard him leave, pocketed the cash I had saved up. This was it, we were getting the hell out. You and me, Lolly too… fuck I can’t even imagine how crazy I looked covered in blood,” he sighs then, shuttering like, voice shaking, his eyes wet.

Your heart broke for him. Broke for his demons that followed him around like a shadow. “I… I didn’t even get a knock in on your window before I felt a gun pressed to my head …”

It’s your turn to take a shaky breath, and you can’t hide the burn in your nose or the way your mouth tingled from holding in tears.

His voice is low, broken, “… I didn’t have a choice. It wasn’t just me they were threatening. He made it more than clear how easy it would be to get rid of two kids nobody wanted to begin with.”

Slipping in and out of present time, you imagine how scared Eddie must have been. The look of terror on his face as a grown adult held him at gunpoint. How his own dad hit him until he bled, how he tried to get to you, tried to save you. You were a fucking fool for hating him when the one you should have been hating this entire time was yourself.

“… he followed me to the van… told me he’d fill me full of lead if he ever came back.”

You pinched your eyes shut, imagining him driving away from the only home he’d ever known, from his life, from you.

His voice fades in and out, as he works through the emotions wavering in his body. “I should have come back for you, should have, I dunno.. I’m sorry, Clove.”

It’s quiet as you process everything Eddie has said. The pain you’d shoved down for years is raging towards you like a bull. Red, angry, demanding to be felt. But you would hide from this terrorizing house of horrors for as long as you could, and you step out of the bull’s way, deflecting.

“Music!” you screech out of nowhere, through the thick haze of sadness, “we need music.”

Standing abruptly, sending the now empty bottle of Jameson clattering across the counter, Eddie tries to steady you from across the bar, his cheeks damp.

“Whoa, hey.. you okay?”

“I gotta,” your hands roam over yourself in search of pockets, “…hey you got a quarter?” The floor seemed to move as you teetered toward the jukebox, keeping your eyes on the colorful lights as you walked towards it like a moth to a flame.

“Wai…” he takes a step forward reaching for your hand but deciding against it, hand going limp by his side, his eyes searching inside your own.

You desperately want to break against him, to throw yourself in his arms and let him hold you until the tears dry on your cheeks, but you can’t let yourself be so vulnerable. Not in front of Eddie, not in front of anyone.

“Clove…” his voice is tender, concerned, “c’mon, you need to sit down.”

“No change? That’s okay, Slim,” you squeak, cutting him off in a rush, forcing a fake smile as you silently curse yourself for sounding so derailed, “Gotta change anyway.”

Spinning and nearly tripping over a stool in your attempt to get to the dressing room, you avoid the swelling brown of his eyes like the plague.

“Larry or Kenny should be here in a few, tell ‘im you’re on my tab and you can eat all the wings you want for free tonight, ‘kay? I’ll be back!”

The tears slid before you could stop them, hot pools that stung your eyes like acid. Maybe you shouldn’t have asked…no you definitely shouldn’t have pushed to know the reason why he left.

The bar was still spinning, waves of heat hitting you like an oven.

You prayed that your Eddie would come back to you, come home to save you and take you away from this life, but he’s here now and it’s entirely too much for you to deal with.

Vomit rose in your throat before you could swallow it back, and walking down the ruby carpeted hallway, your stomach empties itself on the floor before you can find a trash can, the wall holding you up as you crumble against it. Heart bruised and battered, despite Eddie’s efforts to mend it.

He stood in the open bar, soul empty and hollow. So many confessions left unsaid were formed but couldn’t quite fall from his lips. The conversation he wanted to have was not the outcome he had hoped for. He yearned for you, how close the two of you used to be and how it was torn away too soon. Time was a thief and the years spent apart ate at him, and all he can think of is the small manila envelope he kept of letters that went unread, addressed to you.

thank you for taking the time to read 💋 i know this chapter has taken for fucking ever to come out but i hope it was possibly worth it🥀

♡tag list: @dashingdeb16 @emxxblog @mopeymopeymouse @pretendthisnameisclever @mommybaby-witch @tlclick73 @figmentofquinn @eddies-stinky-battle-jacket @whenshelanded @micheledawn1975 @3rd-conchord 😭 @leelei1980 @browneyes8288 @emilyslutface @mmunson86 @josephquinnsfreckles @eddiesxangel @elegantkoalapaper @corrodedcoffincumslut @sidthedollface2 @winchester-angel l @mrsjellymunson @joannamuns9n @mewchiili @spacedoutdaydreamer @emxxblog @maybeisthemoon @str4ngergirlw0rld @insertcoolnameherethanks @kellsck @prestinalove @mandyjo8719 @onegirlmanytales @veravee-blog @taintedcigs @eddies-acousticguitar @oeuryale @kthomps914 @bangaveragewhitewine @lil-quinnie @definitionwanderlust @madaboutjoe @eiightysixbaby @writinginthetwilight @jessisacarica @ali-r3n

#eddie munson #eddie x fem!reader #best friend eddie #eddie munson fanfic #eddie fanfic #eddie fan fic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff

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t0ast-ghost · 1 month

Text

Hello all to episode 29 (The City On The Edge Of Forever) I’m not making it out the other side of this…

Tallyho! :

- my entire body is tense what is happening

- Whew bones is here

- “I’d better risk a few drops of cordrazene.” “It’s tricky stuff, you sure you want to risk-” Bones immediately gives it to Sulu

- OH FUCK! He stabbed himself! Add this moment to the “his blue eyes are terrifying” collection

- Bones knows how to take out anyone on the ship. He could be a menace if he wants to

- side note: Spock could voice a documentary

- he’s gonna pop out from behind the rock- fuck that doesn’t get less funny even if I anticipate it

- Okay at least McCoy knows how to hide (he isn’t just in plain sight)

- Spock’s jaw DROPPED when he saw the guardian

- HE FUCKING NERVE PINCHED HIM

- McCoy jumped through oh my god. The idiot boyfriends have to go to save their unwell boyfriend

- Are they going to back to the Great Depression? I don’t think Spock’s ears are the most suspicious thing about them, I mean look at those shirts

- Spock almost gets hit by a car, “fascinating.”

- Kirk is thieving and Spock is so done with being here

- oh my omg outfits

- Kirk challenging Spock “sometimes I expect too much of you” he’s so offended by that. Kirk apologize.

- oh no they’ve been caught again. I’d be so much more scared of strange men in my basement… okay it makes a bit more sense now

- Jim was so done in a matter of seconds “shut up. Shut up”

- DO NOT ROMANCE SOMEONE FROM THE PAST KIRK I SWEAR TO GOD

- “We have a flop.” “A what, captain?” They get their own apartment together

- I can’t with these outfits

- “Where would you estimate we belong, Mrs Keeler?” “You— At his side, as if you’ve always been there and always will. And you— you belong… in another place. I don’t know where or how. I’ll figure it out eventually.” “I’ll finish with the furnace.” “Captain. Even when he [Spock] doesn’t say it, he does.” this is such a normal conversation… no no it’s normal. I’m feeling quite normal right now. I don’t like her vibes though, they’re off

- “Social Worker Killed” Haha what.

- MCCOY IS IN THE HOUSE (wait note to self. McCoy: Party rockers in the house- Spock: Party rock is in the house. Kiss.)

- I like that McCoy is able to deduce what’s kind of happening. Oops he’s crying over past medical practices now. Let him rest he’s eepy

- NO SPOCK WAS RIGHT THERE NO

- WAIT THEYRE SAYING MCCOY SAVING EDITHS LIFE MADE IT SO THE NAZIS WON????

- “I’m a surgeon, not a psychiatrist.” WOAHHH. MOMENT.

- McCoy at Edith: You don’t believe in aliens huh? Well, we don’t believe in you.

- Bones’s back to his old charming self

- “MCCOY?? Leonard McCoy? SPOCK!” The panic from Kirk upon discovering McCoy is near

- THEIR HUG! OMG THEYRE SO HAPPY OH MY GOD

- Jim being the one to hold back McCoy :((( at least they get to hug again

I’m screaming I’m crying I am physically sick. I need a reboot or something where the three of them are canonically actually in a relationship or so god help me

Masterpost

#I didn’t know I wrote that sentence until I reread it for editing #star trek #star trek tos #star trek the original series #tos kirk #captain james kirk #tos spock #s'chn t'gai spock #spock #tos mccoy #tos bones #leonard bones mccoy #the city on the edge of forever

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monpalace · 11 months

Text

ships .. (tears of the kingdom) sonia/reader

content .. sonia never fails to find herself weak in such intimate settings.

warnings .. not written with rauru in mind, written with younger (late teens – early twenties) sonia and reader in mind, written with afab reader in mind (no descriptors used, reader is gn), not edited or proofread (i haven't slept in 22 hours), no use of y/n or [name], talks of ditching a date

notes .. finished totk today. have never felt so emotionally numb in my life. about to write an au where ganondorf was never evil and i get to marry sonia instead </3 anyways happy juneteenth and pride month to sonia and sonia alone

Sonia's shocked both her short and long-term resolve lasts so long when you drag your fingers along her skin so slowly. The way you drag and swipe the sundelion, milk, and starch mixture of paint makes her breath hitch.

It's happened enough times for you to pass it off as her being ticklish.

She prays you one day realize why she truly remained so squeamish when you applied the paint to her skin.

"Calm down," you warn in a soft voice, one nail gingerly picking away the outlying paint of the teardrop before before wiping it off on the rag Sonia held. "You're trembling like a child."

Fixing the sheer fabric that covered her stomach (that was for warmth more than modesty), Sonia lets out a quiet noise. She holds the urge to lean up or bite her lip (that you had just finished coating in a dusty pink), focusing her gaze anywhere that wasn't you.

She's ashamed to admit that her heart beats erratically everytime you take ahold of her body. Whenever you lift, pinch, and turn her limbs or head, she can feel her heartbeat stop for several moments before choosing to move whenever like some mindless bug.

"What?"

Sonia's voice is airier than she intends. She knows she sounds like a fool when she parrots your words, but she doesn't think she can do anything but repeat what she hears.

Her eyes follow your movements closely when you peel yourself away, the air previously trapped in her lungs finally leaving as you dip your finger into the paste. The warmth of your legs on either side of her hips seep into her bones, chills running through her nerves because of it.

Your breath beats gently on her face when you return to your previous position. Your thumb and forefinger gently take hold of her chin and turn her head to make her face away from you again. You gently blow a breath at her forehead, moving a strand of hair that threatened to fall into her eye.

You were always gentle with Sonia.

She envied whoever you settled down with.

"Sonia." You always used that tone when you knew something she didn't.

"Hmm?"

"What's wrong with you?" The hand holding her chin taps the knuckles of your other fingers against her jawline to pull her attention to you fully. You had yet to start on the next quartet of tears under her eyes, instead letting your worry take priority. "You'd usually talk my ear off about this date of yours. Does a Zonai have your tongue?"

Sonia shakes her head. She isn't sure where the confidence came from, but she grabs your hand and instead holds it between both of hers. "I was thinking of what you said."

"I say a lot of things, beloved," Sonia's heart leaps into her throat, "you'll have to remind me."

(You've always called her affectionate names; babe, my love, sweetheart, sweet girl, darling, princess— she should be used to it now.)

(She should, but she isn't.)

"I don't think I want to go on this outing." Sonia takes a steadying breath and gulp. Her fingers playing with yours, disregarding the paint on them. "When you said you didn't like how he was acting a few days earlier. I was thinking of that."

"Oh."

"Oh?"

That stupid parroting leaves Sonia once again, voice leaving her as more of a gasp than anything else. Her brows furrow when you remove the hand on her chin, leaning back on your legs and hovering over her hips.

"What do you mean oh?"

"I'm not allowed to make noises just because I want to?"

"Not when you say it with that lilt."

You shrug your shoulders as though you were the most innocent person in the world. A smug expression finds itself on your face and Sonia can't help but think that it looks good on you. "I'm just glad that you finally acknowledge I'm right for once."

Sonia rolls her eyes, but she can't help but let out an amused huff. "You are insufferable," she hums, hands moving down her sides to instead rest on your thighs and rock you.

"I can't possibly be that bad. You continue to spend your time with me everyday," you retort, wiping the paste dripping down your arm with the rag. Dipping your finger back into the mixture, you lean forward again. "Either way it'd be a waste to not to do something after I spent all this time doing your makeup."

"Are you telling me you'd rather have me all to yourself today?" Sonia isn't sure where her newfound confidence came from, but the reaction give her when her hands glide up to your hips excite her.

Your breath hitches as you drag your finger along the apple of her cheek once more, gaze jumping from her eyes to your work several times before finding comfort on the bridge of her nose. You did this often enough to have confidence in your strokes.

"And if I did?"

"May—" Sonia's voice nearly gives out on her from how weak it is. She swallows heavily, fingers mindlessly tapping against your hips in a song only she knew while her head turns further away. "Nevermind."

"No," you respond, the hand not dripping with paste tenderly nudging her to look at you again. "What did you want to say?"

"It's fine. It won't kill me if I don't say it."

"It'll kill me."

Sonia's brows furrow when she finally looks back into your eyes, quickly averting them when she saw the look on your face.

You let out an amused noise and lean your forehead against hers. The feeling it gave her was both exhilarating and exhausting, but it was pleasant nonetheless. "I think I know exactly what you want."

"You do?"

"Mh," you hum, the smile of a fox gracing your features. "You'll have to ask for it if you want it, though."

The tone she says your name in makes your smirk grow into a stupid grin.

Sonia loves it regardless.

Taking a breath to calm her stammering heart, Sonia's hands move from your hips to instead link on the nape of your neck. "May I please," she forces herself to not sound as though she were begging, "kiss you."

"Open your eyes."

It takes great effort, but she does. Her hands fill slicked with sweat while you gaze into what feels like her soul, cheeks feeling as though they had been lit aflame.

Your clean hand strokes just below her lips for a few moments as you refuse to answer. The unreadable look you gave Sonia made her feel as though she were laid skin-bare beneath you, all her sins and virtues ready to be judged by you.

When you finally give her permission with a near inaudible "you may," Sonia feels her mind unravel at the seams in ecstasy.

She can feel you smile into the kiss when she pulls your head impossibly closer, lips pressed firmly against each other, and Sonia can't help but think that you're insufferable once more; but she knows she'd rather be with you her whole life than waste it on a meaningless date.

#totk is to me (writing/story telling wise) what atsv is to artists (and me)#elvira's notebook #loz x reader #loz queen sonia x reader #loz sonia x reader #legend of zelda x reader #legend of zelda tears of the kingdom x reader #legend of zelda sonia x reader #legend of zelda queen sonia x reader #queen sonia x reader #sonia x reader #tears of the kingdom x reader #tears of the kingdom sonia x reader #tears of the kingdom queen sonia x reader

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starlightsearches · 2 years

Note

I love the idea of coworker!eddie so much! and now I'm thinking about this nerd this doofus this absolute fucking sweet dork of a man leaning over the counter in between customers and making handmade buttons for the basket by the register to sell. He's got the classic styles, you know, band logos from a variety of genres but the bulk of them lean toward metal, as well as some goofier ones with gross jokes on them. But he makes some personalized ones for you, featuring your favorite bands and pickup lines, including one that says You're my rainbow in the dark because obviously he has to slip a Ronnie James Dio reference in there

He's stupid. He's perfect. I love him.

Mixtape

Yes, god, coworker! eddie lives inside my brain like a little mouse. Here's something I threw together because I love the idea of the pins 😩 Comments, likes and reblogs make me very happy!

Eddie x Gender Neutral Reader

Warnings: language, mutual pining, some angst, this one's a little sad in the end but I'm sure we'll see more of them at some point (if people are interested).

"Hey, asshole."

Eddie dodges the empty cardboard box you lob his way without much effort. He's gotten way better at sidestepping your attacks since he started here. You wish you could say the same for your aim.

"You planning on doing any work today?"

Eddie has the nerve to look offended—like you haven't been running around your whole shift, restocking shit and fixing the displays and helping everyone and their mother find a copy of Whitney Houston—holding a fist to his chest like he'd been stabbed.

"That hurts, baby. I am working. See?"

He shakes the basket of pins in front of him as you lean over the counter, smiling wide. It's that fucking smile that makes so many people buy his stupid buttons—even if they've never heard his any of the artists he's obsessed with, even if they're not worth the dollar fifty you're charging for them.

You set the basket back down, swallowing the butterflies in the back of your throat. "No offense, but I think we have enough Metallica pins to last us through the end of time."

"I was actually making pins for you," he says with falsely-innocent eyes, meeting you halfway across the table, the collar of his worn-out band shirt dipping just slightly until you can see the slightest hint of another tattoo brushing his collar bone, "but if you don't want them . . . "

You hold out a hand, hoping your exasperation might distract him from your wandering eyes. "Show me."

You wish he wouldn't do this—flirt with you so much. Your crush on him was already embarrassing enough without the pins and the inside jokes and his wandering fingers pinching at your sides until you have to laugh. Sometimes you want to scream at him, tell him to stop making fun of you, that you'll get over it if he gives you enough time.

You're not sure if you could ever get over it. Not if he keeps looking at you like this.

Eddie drops the pins into your hand one at a time, tongue caught between his teeth—eyes flashing between your face and your open palm. You do your best to keep your expressions in check.

There's a few band pins—Fleetwood Mac, ABBA, even Wham!, despite all the shit he'd given you about them.

"And for the finale—" he says with a flourish, his fingers just brushing against yours when he drops the little black button into your hand.

"Rainbow in the dark?" You read the words quietly, looking up at him with furrowed brows. He's fidgeting, twisting one of the rings around his finger, biting at his lips.

"Yeah, because, uh . . ." he laughs shyly, glancing down at his hands, "you haven't- you haven't listened to that mixtape I made you?"

Your stomach sinks, and you press your lips together, shooting him a guilty look.

"Oh, come on—" he rolls his eyes at you, and you let the apologies pour out, hoping to wipe the hurt from his expression, even if it's all theatrics.

"I've been meaning to listen, Eddie," you tell him, "but it's your music is really loud and I've got neighbors and I need to get a new pair of headphones for my cassette player . . ."

None of that's true. You've started the tape multiple times, laying back on your bed with your perfectly-functioning headphones on snugly over your ears, and you just. couldn't. do. it. Listening to songs that Eddie picked for you—cute, ridiculous Eddie with his too-tight jeans and wild hair and fucking to-die-for smile—it was like carving your own heart out of your chest with a butter knife. A reminder of what you'd never have.

He stands with his back to you, hands on his hips. When he turns over his shoulder, he won't meet your eyes.

"Well," he says, tapping his knuckles against the glass countertop, "that's from one of my favorites on there. It's always kind of . . . reminded me of you."

"Oh."

You don't know what else to say.

"Anyways," he coughs, but the atmosphere stays heavy with the weight of awkwardness between you, "I guess I'll go unpack some boxes in the back. You good on your own out here?"

"Oh yeah . . . totally."

He sighs, stalking off to the backroom, leaving you with only a sick feeling in your stomach and a pile of pins in your hands.

Part 2 Here

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson #my writing #gender neutral insert #harley tag 💖

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luv-loo · 1 year

Text

Study Date & Kisses

Masterpost || Bones Masterlist

Vincent Nigel-Murray x Fem!reader

Summary: Y/N’s having trouble with their uni assignment, luckily the classes Fun-Facts guy has decided to help. The same guy Y/N may or may not have a crush on..

Warnings: Swearing, some of info may not be 100% accurate.

Notes/Anything Else: Another repost, I promise I’m gonna other stuff ! I really like this fic, but be warn that Y/N comes off pretty pissy in this fic, but for good reason ! I’m promise Y/N still nice. I love this series so expect some more fics of them in the future <3

° Tagging — @topguncultleader

The times currently 9:30pm, your eyes check tiredly to the screen of your laptop. The library closes in an hour and you’ve barely gotten half way in your assignment that’s due tomorrow afternoon.

The idea of going home makes you smile, but you know well that once you shut the front door your heading straight for your bed and sleep for the next two days.

That’s why your pushing through, multiple sickly sweet energy drinks as your right hand companion and the will to past this last assignment for the month, but this is just tedious. You much rather work directly with bones and the now of technology, than the history of how scientists and doctors discovered and identify bone parts from the 17th century. A fact you’ll never dare tell Dr Brennan.

So you’ve been putting this off. A dumb idea on your end. Making more time at the Jeffersonian was great, but breaks should of been made for finishing off these rather than chatting with Hodgins or watching Angela reconstruct the victims face while she talks about what type of past they might of had. You look back to the clock. 9:45pm. “Just great.” You whisper to yourself. Seconds felt like minutes.

You looked around the library. Barely anyones there. It’s quiet, besides soft footsteps, paper flipping and tapping on keyboards from other students. Your screen went black, so you pressed the on button to re-type your password. Soft footsteps were coming closer behind you. Your head snapped towards the sneaky stepped behind you.

“Woah! Hey, Y/N, don’t give me that look.” A British voice said, his hands in a defensive pose.

You quickly, tried to, soften your face while you pinched your nose. You sighed and looked back at him.

“Sorry Vincent. I’m just tired..” you yawned and looked back at him. “Do you need anything? Do you wish to trade my shift with Dr Brennan again?”

“Uhh… did you know the timing of our need for sleep is based on two things. The first is how long we have been awake. The second is our bodies clock. If we stay awake all night we will feel more tired at 4am than at 10am. Scientists call the time between 3am and 5am the ‘dead zone’. It’s when our body clock makes us ‘dead’ tired.” Vincent smiled, making a small pointing jester with his pointer finger.

You raised your eyebrow. It’s not that you hate his facts, knowing that is his way of communicating comfortably (for some reason), but it’s currently 9:52 and you feel like your eyes are getting darker by the second.

“Can we skip to your point, Vincent? If I’m not mistaken you are usually in bed at this hour.” It came out harsher than you wanted, making Vincent subconsciously grab onto his laptop cases strap. Twisting it in his hands, making you cringe a little.

“Um, well, you see.. I notice that you hadn’t completed the latest assignment—“

“—What gave that away?” ‘Stop being pissy’, you think to yourself.

Vincent bit his lip, and nodded.

“Yo-your laptop is open and your in the library at 9:59pm on a Thursday. Our Assignment, that we’ve had two weeks to complete, is due tomorrow.” You gave him a weary look.

“Right… you were being sarcastic.” It was almost like he was shrinking in his shoes at that point.

You’re about to punch yourself at this point. The Brit’s obviously here to help, but because your tired ass is deciding to be mean he’s melting from nerves. Vincent was always the one to ask questions on any part of the project he didn’t understand or just wanted extra info on. His hand is always up during lectures to the point where the teachers just tell him to write all the ones he has down and than hand them a list at the end.

After all the questions he asked got answered he would hand most of the class pieces of paper with those answers. “Just in case I had asked something that you wanted to know and you didn’t write it down quick enough!” His normal answer when you ask.

You sigh at those memories, and point towards to the seat next to you.

“You may help Mr Nigel-Murray.” You smile as his eye light up a bit. Vincent went to sit down, pulling out the chair when he stops.

“Are you sure you want me to help you, Y/N.” His cheeks are a bit rosey red, it stands out from his pale, British, skin.

You chuckle a bit and shake your head. “Your not only here to help, I’m about to lose my sanity with my fourth energy drink. I could use the company.”

“Alrighty, Mrs L/N. I’ll keep you the company you need.” Vincent sits down and puts his laptop case on top of the table, pulling his laptop out before placing it on his chair like a bag. You smirk as you turn back to your laptop and re-enter your password once again.

“How far have you gotten?”

“Up to when the Andean Villagers strung up their dead’s bones like some festival decorations. This part is really boring honestly—“

Vincent slaps down a piece of paper, louder with how quiet it was.

“You find them boring? I rather find them very knowledgeable in the history to those people.” Vincent says, taking out two papers, fill to the brim with writing, and set them besides you. You grin as you take hold of a half empty can of a strawberry energy drink and take a swift. Before taking it back from your lips and turning it a bit in your hand.

“You all enjoy those things, well maybe besides Colin, but I don’t really. I study criminology so I can work on the front lines of a case. I take this class to help better my understanding, but some of this stuff kind of ticks me off. You know?” You finish your tired speech and place your can back down, facing towards Vincent.

You look up to see him with red cheeks again, but he’s staring straight at you. Your own cheeks heat up a bit, because god those eyes. His bluish-grey tinted eyes are just cute.

You shake your head. ‘Not when I have work to be done, Y/N!’ You angrily thought to yourself. Crush later, work now. ‘God..’

“I completely understand! I have certain things I do not enjoy others may. But when it comes to work I believe it’s best you priorities it. Even if it’s to your distain.” He smiled, god that smile. And god that accent. You never thought an accent could suit someone, until you heard Vincent Niguel-Murray.

“Well, as you Brits would say, let’s crack on.” You say, placing your hands on your laptop.

Vincent laughed.

It’s currently 10:47 pm on a Thursday night.

You and Vincent are packing up the paper, books and your laptops so you could leave quicker. You’ve completed the work, a little half-assed, but it’ll make sure you pass.

As you both start walking to the door Vincent turns towards you.

“Hey, um… Y/N, if you’ll like, I mean, if you have any more trouble, you can always send me an email. I wouldn’t mind helping you out more.” His voice goes up one octave as he asked. You internally scream as your heart starts picking up pace. You both reach the front door to the Library, Vincent opens it and lets you walk through first. God your cheeks must been bright.

“I could just give you my number, so if you just wanna hang out that’s alright with me.” You say as you turn and stop. Taking out your phone from your pocket.

“That’ll be alright.” Is that another octave higher?

Vincent shuts the door and takes out his own phone. Opening the message app, you gently go and take his phone. You quickly put in your number and text it to your phone and hand it back to him. He looks down and his face turns beet red in an instant.

“Uh, Y/N, why did you save your name as ‘Y/N: Needer of help’?” He laughs a little as he looks up. You smile and walk up to him, getting inches to his face, you’re about the same height, and give him a peck on the cheek before stepping back.

“Because I’ll call you whenever I need help with anything.” You give him a wink and turn to start walking away, smirking while your heart thumps like crazy.

Vincent watches as you walk away, your bag bouncy a bit and your ponytail swinging. He reaches up and touches the spot you kissed him and his face becomes redder than fresh blood on a corpse.

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cypressmoons · 1 year

Text

cross your mind [al haitham]

♫ listening to: cross your mind by role model

🕮 summary: do you think about me, do you fantasize? you're so cool around me, do i even cross your mind? modern au, lots of horrible jokes (i'm giving cyno a run for his money)

✎ word count: 1.3k

“do you want to be in the video?”

“what?”

you repeat his question back at him, blinking innocently.

he forces a laugh, the air suddenly feeling a little more frigid.

finally your anxiety gets the best of you and you launch into yet another nervous ramble, “i mean, only if you’re comfortable- i just thought it would look good for the PR, that’s all- i wouldn’t want to force you to do anything you don’t want to do!”

he laughs genuinely now, and your face feels hot. you pinch the inside of your palm in a desperate attempt to calm the nerves, reminding yourself that this is just like asking any other person, he’s not anything special, and you most definitely shouldn’t be making a big deal out of this.

but he is.

you’ve secretly admired him for over a year now. in the summer months when you didn’t see him, you somehow even managed to forget he existed save for the occasional “oh there was this guy in my class” moment. but now that you’re seeing him multiple times a week and even having to — gasp — private message him, you’re not sure how much longer your internal organs can handle all the twisting and turning.

your friends might be sick and tired of your nonstop simping for a man you're too chicken to actually go talk to, but somehow that's the thrill of it for you: chasing after the one person you can't have, knowing that you'd probably never be cool enough to even hang around him.

sometimes you even question if you're in love with him, but the thought is quickly dismissed when you attribute it to pure physical attraction - a very strong and endless one at that.

and you almost drop all the heavy groceries you were carrying when you run into him walking with another girl one day.

the skies are a dim shade of grey-blue as the sun sets behind the clouds and beneath the horizon, headlights from the cars beside you growing brighter in contrast. another frigid gust of wind makes you shiver and you retreat your hands further into your sleeves, cursing at the heavy bags you're carrying for preventing you from warming your hands in your pockets, at the slippery ice and slush that were yet to be cleared from the sidewalks, at the winter winds that seem to cut straight into your bones, and at yourself for being too scared to go inside the restaurant to order takeout for dinner.

now you're cold, tired, the bags too heavy on your back and in your hands, and stomach protesting from the lack of your comfort food. sure, you could probably whip something up from the groceries you just bought, but on some days you just simply don't feel like it - especially on cold and gloomy days like these.

you're just not having a good day.

little did you know, your day is about to get a whole lot worse.

your apartment building looms closer and you feel the impending relief of finally being able to set these bags down. when you turn onto your street, however, you stop dead in your tracks as you see, without mistake, al haitham with another girl, engaged in animated conversation.

and walking towards you.

his expression freezes the moment he sees you, leaving the poor girl puzzled at his sudden pause in movement. her eyes dart from his face to where his gaze lands, until the three of you are gawking at each other like that one spider man meme.

fortunately, the gawking doesn't last long. armed with a new sense of spite-induced confidence, you hike your backpack up a little higher and decide to continue your journey on the other side of the sidewalk instead, purposefully ignoring him.

you did briefly consider a quick, nonchalant greeting - after all, that's what acquaintances do with each other, right? but looking at him, probably saying more words to the girl next to him in the last few minutes than he’s ever spoken to you in the two years you’ve known him, you couldn’t find it in yourself to even offer him that nicety.

so you take long strides away from them, never once looking back until you’re finally warm and toasty inside your apartment’s lobby. you’d like to think that he watched you leave, that he’d paused his conversation for you, but caught in a moment of jealousy, you suddenly don’t care if he did.

because you’re never gonna be like her, anyway.

being what you are, though - is it ever going to be enough? heart rate spiking a little whenever a red notification dot appears on your phone, only for you to sigh in relief when your friend’s name appears instead. cursing at him for taking years to respond to you while you secretly hoped he reciprocated your one-sided crush. your thoughts don’t have a flood gate, unfortunately, and when your very being is consumed by him at all times of day - putting your first name with his last name included - you just can’t get him out.

you’re growing increasingly frustrated at how much he consumed your time and energy. despite repeated attempts to convince yourself that he’ll do nothing but break your heart later, your mind still wanders to him, your stomach still gets butterflies, and at this point you just want to scrub every crevice in your brain like one of those scrub daddy-sponsored cleaning videos.

if you really think about it, he's nowhere near being the kate sharma to your anthony bridgerton, so why is he the bane of your existence and object of all your desires?

yet you can't forget about the way he smiled when you talked to him, how he literally looks like the grinning emoji. you tell yourself he looks at everyone like that, but part of you hopes that maybe the grinning emoji face is reserved just for you.

which is false, apparently.

you should've known better. even with all your thoughts running wild like an unmoderated twitch chat, containing every situation possible like a tumblr dash with mature content enabled and complete with filters and background music from the "romantic songs to make up scenarios in your head to" video that youtube strangely decided to recommend you one day, you should've known he is just a fantasy to you. maybe you've made him out to be a saint, to be better than he actually would have been in real life, but the hopeless romantic in you so desperately wants it to be true, even just one tiny part of it.

you delete the exclamation mark from the end of the sentence, feeling guilt tinging your body as you press send before promptly closing the chat window. the habit of adding exclamation marks and smiley faces as to not appear mean no longer has any place in this conversation.

if you want to forget about him, move on from him, you need to begin by telling yourself that it's not worth compromising your future over a man you can't have.

and that's not only because he acts so cool around you. if you ever crossed his mind, he surely doesn't show it.

because come on- surely it doesn't take a normal person three full days to agree on a time for a strictly professional, no-personal-feelings-attached, most definitely normal work meeting, right?

this is only for my job. i would've done the same for any other person.

you repeat the statement to yourself like a mantra, so many times that you start to fear that you would summon his spirit or something. you try to imagine any other person in his shoes. yes - this video is purely for the sake of advertisement, engagement and PR, and absolutely nothing else.

so why is it you offered to get coffee for the both of you?

i hope you enjoyed the subtle bane of my existence fic reference hehehehe i'm very proud of that one - if you haven't read that yet then you should >:(

requests open | masterlist

#screaming crying throwing up #moon's writings #al haitham #genshin impact #al haitham x reader #genshin x reader #moon's writings 🔖

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bosinclairz · 1 year

Text

(un)apologetic

thinking abt how mean bo can be sometimes . im not talkin light shit . this wasn’t supposed to be a fic and it wasn’t supposed to end like this lol deeply inspired by @ventiswampwater’s fic squall ( go read it rn )

warnings; abuse , mentions of past abuse , broken bones, DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, mommy kink , bo is a piece of shit in this , mentions of rough oral (m receiving) , sub!bo tho :3 , weird dynamic , stockholm syndrome , kinda ooc bo idk , bro suckin on nipples and is weird abt it fr , oral (f receiving) bo cries . i hate this this was a mistake lol my bad yall

—————

he’s not at all the perfect boyfriend . he won’t let you even call him that, but you’ve been in ambrose for two years now , the better half spent with his hand wrapped around your throat, telling you the awfullest things . most times you’ll wake up half way through the day , his cock buried so deep in your throat you’re sure he’s touching whatever’s left of your heart . it belonged to him anyways . other times you’d wake up kneeling in broken glass , bo screaming at you over this little mistake , and the feeling of his hand coming down harshly across your cheek you’re sure you’ve got whiplash now . stupid , you’ve already made a mess and now you’ve gone and gotten hurt doing so . or you’d wake up in the shop , watching bo work underneath a car as he mumbled about tools he needed you to grab for him . you remember when he broke your foot with a wrench once , the metal making short work of cracking your ankle . vincent was the one to wrap it up , and bo never helped you walk after that . you hobbled around everywhere until the pain subsided enough to walk at least a little normally . if you were good , he’d let you lean on him , maybe he’d even carry you back to the house . you always tried your best to appease him , but he’s unpredictable and you can never guess his moods or how he feels about you one minute versus the next .

this is no different . this isn’t something you could ever predict . you didn’t follow him down to the station today . he didn’t want you to . said you were getting on his nerves too much recently , said he couldn’t stand the sight of you . you slept on the couch last night , for the few hours that weren’t filled by your silent sobs . he came home and you almost didn’t recognize him as the cruel man you previously knew , but either way you greeted him with a smile . how was his day ? you asked , making movements to take off his shoes .

“long day, mama,” he muttered. it was so soft you could’ve sworn the sentence ended in a whine . “yeah? tell me about it?” after removing your captors shoes, you stood to full height , ushering him to the couch you had made your bed on . “been thinkin’ too much,” a whisper, “been pushin’ you away an’ i don’ know why.” poor baby , too in his head . who was really the unfortunate one here ? you wouldn’t dare voice this , he’d kill you without a second thought . he never liked being weak .

“lemme make it up t’ya, mama. lemme be good for ya,” his eyes , when they found their way to yours , were broken . he pawed at your chest , silently begging for your permission . you’ve only had the pleasure of seeing him like this twice before . you know what to do by now .

“go on, baby,” you whisper , voice shuddering as he starts to pull up your shirt . somewhere beneath your clothes , bo’s searching for forgiveness.

his mouth wraps around your nipple , sucking and nipping gently . he doesn’t ignore the other , pinching and tugging at it . comfort . he finds comfort in this . why tell you how he feels when he can show it , as long as you never bring this up again .

your hand finds it’s way into his hair, tugging on curls softly as your breath hitches with each tug of his teeth . “you’re so good to me, baby,” you murmur . he’s searching for penance in your warmth , needing to right all the wrongs within your arms . “i have to admit,” your voice is shaky, worrying your words will cause an unwanted shift, “what you said last night has been on my mind today, baby.” a whine .

baby blues open, looking up at you with the most guilt you’ve ever seen bo have . your nipple falls from his mouth , an apology spilling from his lips , “i didn’t mean it, mama, i promise.” it’s sweet , too sweet , and you’re sure the taste of it is rotting his teeth .

silence falls over the both of you , and you wonder who will break first .

you pull him up , your lips meeting his in a passionate kiss . unlike every other time , there’s no malice , no teeth , and maybe if you tasted him hard enough , there was love there . his love tastes like copper , the kind that spills from the fresh wounds he leaves on your skin , reminding you who you belong to . it tastes like gasoline , and a match .

bo is the first to pull back , desperate eyes meeting yours . “lemme make you feel good, mama.” a hand drifts between your thighs , cupping at your sex . “please?” it’s soft and if you weren’t waiting for it , you could’ve missed it .

“yeah - yeah, please, bo.” his body moves down , leaving kisses in his wake as he makes his way between your legs . bo’s tugging down your shorts , exposing your needy , wet core . you didn’t wear underwear anymore , bo’s ripped and torn them all to shreds . that was months ago , and by the way he looks at you , he must’ve forgotten .

“you’re a whore, mama, ain’t that right?” a smirk , and you wonder if this moment would end with a hand around your throat and his dick stuffed deep inside you . you hope it doesn’t . you like this softer side of him . he hasn’t hit you , yet .and if you’re lucky , he won’t .

“yes-“ you gasp as he laps at your cunt , licking up the juices . “you did this,” you mumble, “you gotta fix it. don’t you wanna fix it?” he’s silent , and whether that be from his mouth making you see stars , or from some response dying in his throat , you weren’t sure . but with the way he sucks at your clit , you didn’t much care .

you liked this . you liked this control . in this moment , he was yours in every sense of the word . you wondered if you’d met under other circumstances if it would’ve ended like this , him between your thighs , going down on you with so much fervor you thought he was starving man .

you felt a wetness , and for a moment you thought you must’ve cum without thinking until you realized it was tears . bo was crying , continuing to eat you out like his life depended on it . he mumbled words you soon found out to be “m’sorry mama, please forgive me”.

it made your heart twist in a way that made you nauseous , and you regretted making this about control in that fucked up head of yours . he‘s broken , just as much as you are .

“it’s - fuck - it’s ok, baby,” your high was coming in fast , unable to stop the buck of your hips when he pushes two fingers into you , immediately curling and finding that spot he knows so well .

“ i forgive you “

a hushed cry , and you come undone on his tongue and fingers , pulling at his hair . and for a moment , you forgot who this was for .

“thank you,” bo mumbles , laying his head against your thigh .

it’s soft , so soft you’re sure you’re imagining it , but you swear you hear him utter those three words you’ve been dying to hear ;

“i love you.”

#this sucks sorry #zsaszs writing #ig ?#bo sinclair #bo sinclair x reader #house of wax #house of wax 2005

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anzynai · 1 year

Text

Ease Your Nerves

Kohane x An (Project Sekai)

a/n: it’s a certain someone’s birthday so i wrote a fic in honor of such a glorious day! @ticklerants i know we haven’t been friends for long but it’s been nice for the few weeks we’ve been talking! hope u enjoy this UwU <3 also this is shorter than usual but i haven’t written a fic in a really long time so my skills are a little.. rusty. for that same reason, characters may be slightly ooc as well 😭

word count: 740

summary: kohane is feeling nervous before a performance. an makes it better.

——

Kohane loved performing. Truly, she did, but she couldn’t help the nervousness that washed over her every time she went to the stage.

Vivid Bad Squad was given the opportunity to perform at a popular social event. Naturally, they had agreed. They would never turn down at opportunity to spread their music around for others to hear and enjoy.

Today was in front of a bigger crowd, so it made sense why she was more nervous than usual today. She felt jittery and shaky, and An had taken notice of it.

“What’s wrong?” An asked, concern adorned on her face. Kohane felt guilty for worrying her girlfriend like this.

“No, it’s nothing..! I’m sorry for worrying you, An. I’m just a little nervous!” She assured her, but it didn’t stop her racing heart. They still had about ten minutes to go before they were meant to appear in front of the audience and perform and it felt like every second made her breathe just a little heavier from the nerves.

“Don’t worry! It’ll be fine, just do it like you’ve always done!” An reassured her, pinching her side. Neither of them expected the squeak that left the smaller’s body. Suddenly, An wore a mischievous grin that couldn’t mean anything but trouble. For a moment, Kohane forgot all about the performance as she gulped. Though, she didn’t move from her spot. “Hey, Kohane~”

“Y-yes, An?” She muttered, shyly, eyeing the blue haired’s wiggling fingers with anticipation.

“I think I know a way to ease some of your nerves..” She smiled, and before giving Kohane a chance to respond, she grabbed her sides, kneading the plump flesh. Kohane didn’t bother hiding her laughter; She knew her girlfriend adored the sound of her laughter and she loved to make An happy.

“A-ahahaha- Ahahan! Ihihit t-tihihihickles!” Kohane giggled, sweetly, absolutely melting An’s heart.

“You’re so ticklish, it’s adorable!” An gushed, moving to her ribs, poking and prodding in between the bones.

“E-ehehehehe, s-stohohohop sahahaying t-thahahat!” Kohane blushed.

“Why, you’re so cute! You’re like a little hamster.” An laughed with her, getting closer to her. Kohane’s knees gave out, and they both dropped to the floor.

“An!” Kohane giggled, moving to cover her face. How embarrassing..! She was way too ticklish for this and An was the one to see it!

“Tickle, tickle~” A teased, putting Kohane in some sort of hug, scribbling her back. That sparked a reaction.

“A-ahAHAHAHAHA! N-nohohoho!” Kohane cried, squirming intensely. She had been enjoying this but she didn’t know how much longer she could take. She squinted her eyes, looking at her girlfriend. An was clearly loving this if the gleaming smile on her face meant anything. “H-hehehehe.. An! W-why?!”

“What do you mean, why? So that I can make you feel better! Isn’t that what girlfriends are supposed to do?” An snickered, as if that was the dumbest question in the world.

“Y-yehehehes, buhuhuhut..!” Kohane sputtered, her smile beginning to ache from laughing so much. Tears began to accumulate in her eyes.

“But nothing! It’s working, isn’t it?” An smiled, lightly kissing Kohane’s neck before blowing a raspberry. She relished in the squeal she received in response.

“N-nohohoho MOHOhore! Ahahaahan!” Kohane shouted, and just like she thought, An had stopped immediately. Instead, she began to rub the areas she had been tickling comfortingly, as Kohane fought to catch her breathe.

“Hehe, you’re so cute, Kohane.” An said, pulling her into her lap. She kissed Kohane’s cheek, then her forehead, and then, finally pecked her on the lips. Kohane giggled in response.

“That tickles!” She smiled, though she leaned into her girlfriend anyway.

“So?” An began, moving Kohane’s shoulders back to look at her face. Kohane averted her eyes under her gaze. “Do you feel better?”

Kohane had almost forgotten the reason An started tickling her in the first place! She pondered to herself for a moment before she smiled.

“Well, I’m still a little nervous but I’m feeling much better.. Thank you, An!” She blushed as she made contact with the other. An chuckled.

“I’m happy to hear that!” An stood up, holding out her hand for Kohane to grab. Moments later, Akito came up from behind them.

“Guys, it’s our turn.” He said before walking away. Likely to Toya. Kohane and An followed behind him, holding each other’s hand.

“Ready?” An asked, and Kohane nodded.

“Ready!” Kohane exclaimed, more excited than ever. They were gonna rock this performance!

#jai’s fics #tickling #project sekai colorful stage #project sekai #project sekai fic #tickle fic #hatsune miku colorful stage #prsk #fic #proseka #anhane #an shiraishi #kohane azusawa #kohane x an #lee!kohane #ler!an

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sio-writes · 1 year

Text

Sacrifice Chapter 3

<< Chapter 2

<<< Chapter 1

A/N: After a bit of schedule maneuvering, it looks like this story will be updated once every two weeks until I finish it (I still don't have an estimate one the chapters yet oops). Thank you all for your patience and I hope you enjoy!

Standing underneath a levitating tree has my nerves on end. Up close, it's more massive than anything I could imagine, tall enough to reach the clouds, wide enough for my home to fit inside twice over. The magic that keeps it afloat must be grand and ancient.

As we walk under the behemoth, I see the underside is pockmarked by rings. It sits so high that Aurelius can walk underneath unimpeded, but I feel a pull in my chest to reach out and touch the marks, to make sure I'm not caught up in an illusion.

There's thousands upon thousands of them, a lifetime spiraling outward through delicate circles that mark the eons. The dark rings of a fire, then the swollen sections of a flood, the sun-bleached cambium and rich heartwood towards the center. I'm awestruck by the majesty, the history of it, and terrified all at once.

Appearing as if through a fog is a spiral staircase, invisible one moment and in front of me the next. The banister is a filigree of plantlife rendered in wood, thin to the point where I see sunlight through the petals of a flower. It leads straight up, where warm light pours forth from a circular opening. The light is warm, inviting, and I think of a predator, luring me in with false hope only to eat me up. Perhaps I'm still shaken from the fae earlier. I can still feel their fingers pinching my skin, my ears still ring from their voices. Will his home be the same?

Ignoring the litany of images my mind throws at me, of emaciated bodies reeking of death and decay, of hovels filled with rats and sludge that seeps into my skin. I ignore the image of the house slowly swallowing me, integrating my body into its walls over a matter of years while I am helpless to stop it. I ignore all of it, and walk up into the tree.

With shaking hands I poke my head through the floor, and find not a den of fear, but a grand entry hall. It's rendered in stone, torches lining the archways that stretch all the way to the back. I half-expect to see colored glass windows that I'd find in the town church, but the windows here are simple. In fact, everything has been stripped to the bare essentials, save for the massive chandelier made of bones acting as centerpiece.

Stepping onto the floor my bare feet are warmed by the stone, but the air is cool against my face. Long tables meant to seat dozens line the left and right walls, covered by table runners colored a rich red and edged in gold. They're bordered by high backed chairs, made for someone of Aurelius' size, and I wonder if I'd feel like a child sitting in one. There's a single set of silverware and cutlery at the far end of the left table, shining and untouched. It's the most ornate set I've ever laid eyes on, the gold it would fetch alone would feed my family for a year.

Aurelius makes a noise of recognition behind me. "So this is the entry way that she chose."

She? Is there another human here? The fae who tried to kidnap me implied that he had brought more than one human here. Aurelius takes one look at my expression and his jaw opens halfway as if he means to smile.

"My home, sweet doe." He rests a hand on one of the long dining tables. "She is a fae, as old as I am."

That is all the explanation I'm allowed it seems, because he walks past me and off to the right without a word. My face pinches in confusion-- there's nowhere to go, he's going to run into the wall.

Except it's not a wall that greets him, but a doorway. A doorway stretching into a hallway that shouldn't be possible. It should stop, should hit the edge of the tree, at the very least it should lead outside.

But I follow him into a long hallway, around a corner and into a sitting room that looks completely untouched. The furniture is plush and there's a roaring fire I can feel from the doorway. The room branches into three, and Aurelius walks into the far one.

The hallway twists like rope, and my eyes widen when Aurelius continues walking and it leads him to the ceiling and back to the floor. I take a step forward, and another, and it's like the pull of the earth shifts as I move forward. My feet stay on the ground, and down becomes up. My hair doesn't fall to the side, even as the frame of a door creaks under my feet. I make it to Aurelius, my heart in my throat, and look up at him. He stares down at me, his head tilting slightly, and my face flushes. I grab his large hand in both of mine, and we continue forward.

***

Despite trying to trace my steps, I cannot wrap my head around where we are. The hallways are endless, the stairs lead in circles, and so many doors simply open to walls. All the while, Aurelius continues forward, allowing me no space to breathe, to process my surroundings.

The home is lit by faerie fire, a soft glowing flame bathing every room in warm, comforting light. Orbs of light bounce along the ceiling like insects, or lines the walls or baseboards in strips, or simply floats in the air like a candle held aloft. Shadows are soft, shifting things that catch my attention. I look for some demon or creature that would grab at me, but there's nothing. Just the two of us. Three, if the house counts.

I'm led through archways made of water, upside down stairways, halls of mirrors and glass, each dwelling more fantastical than the last. Despite the growing absurdity though, I'm not as overwhelmed as before. The home exudes an aura of calming, of welcomeness. I don't know where I am, but I don't feel lost.

After the thousandth set of stairs, I ask through heavy breaths. "How high does your home sit?"

Aurelius pauses, his hands clasped in front of him. He tilts his head to one side, considering me. "I've never been to the topmost level. You are welcome to try, but beware that the higher you climb, the more chaotic it becomes, and even I may not be able to find you."

"Chaotic?" I look around us. We're currently standing sideways, on a set of stairs above a reflecting pool on what should be the ground. Fish swim in the air around us, a koi swirls lazily around my feet. "What could possibly be more chaotic?"

Aurelius holds up his hands, gesturing grandly as he speaks, "As a tree splits into many branches or a mind into many thoughts, so too does this dwelling separate from reality as it climbs towards the sky." He looks down at me. "And I would hate to lose you, my dear."

I purse my lips. That was far too eloquent to not have been practiced. Aurelius is pressing his hands together, steepling his fingers, his head still turned on me as if expecting a reaction. He most certainly had that prepared.

"Eloquently put, my lord." And my suspicions are confirmed when he lifts his head, chin held haughtily as he continues up the stairs. My lips tug into a smile. Very cute.

The stairs lead us to a hall, and at the end a single door.

"The house has told me she has not prepared a room for you yet, so you can stay here while she works."

Before I can ask how he speaks with the house, Aurelius pushes open the door. Inside is a library, towering in stature, holding thousands upon thousands of books. There's several corners cut out for reading with couches and cushions, as well as a large fireplace.

"A…library?"

"Your temporary room."

I bite my lip around the next question as we both step into the room. Some part of me had hoped we'd…share a space. I thought he cared for me, wished for me to be around.

"This is…where you want me?"

But as I look around, I'm not so sure. Every corner, piled high on the floor and on tables and covering everywhere one wouldn't walk, is clutter. Books, clothes, fabric, papers and writing utensils, empty cups, and even more books, all over.

I rest my hand on the arm of a couch, looking at the mess with dismay.

He doesn't make any motion other than to look around the room. "This will do for now. I use this room most."

"Oh," I say.

Aurelius doesn't respond, and when I look to him for direction, he's standing where he came in. His hands are in front of him, his fingers interlaced, and he starts to glide back towards the door.

"Are you hungry?"

I frown, concern marking my features. "I…We just ate."

Didn't we?

"Right," he says, looking around, a hand coming to his bony snout. The air stales in my throat, turns awkward. He doesn't want to be here, he's trying to back out.

"Right," I slowly repeat back to him, watching as he creeps towards the door.

"I am going to…" He's standing in the doorframe now, leaving me here. I'd ask where he's going, but I don't want to bother him. Maybe he enjoys being alone, and I'd be a deterrent to that.

I push down the concerns that begin to build behind my chest. I don't do well alone, I thought he would stay. But surely a god has other responsibilities to tend to, he can't be spending all his time with a lowly farm girl.

I hold back my disappointed sigh, and give him a nod. "Goodbye, my lord."

As I turn towards the room, anything to ease the tension, the door closes gently behind me.

I need something to distract my mind. Looking around at the mess, my fingers itch to clean. Perhaps that's why he brought me, as a maid.

I start with the clothing, gathering it in my arms. It all smells clean, thankfully. Mostly shirts and pants, a cloak here and there. The cloak he wore to see me must have been for the cold then. All the clothes are from different eras, some pieces similar to what I'd see hanging in the church. Decades are laid out and tossed aside here, and I'm curious to know if he wore these things often.

My arms are full to bursting with items much too large for any human, when I realize there's nowhere to put it all.

I glance around to the empty room. "Um, H-House? Do you have, uh, somewhere I could put these?" I lift up the armful of clothes, looking around at the ceiling of the library, as if some face is just going to appear out of the grain. But the only response I get is the creak of the wood. I sigh, feeling rather stupid. Of course the house won't respond to me, she has no connection to me. Only Aurelius.

The scrape of something against the wood catches my attention, and out of the shadow pushes a basket. Flat, wide, and expertly woven out of the same material as the library walls.

"Can you, um, hear me?"

Placing the book back in its spot, I forget about it and continue attempting to organize the mess.

A book falls from a low shelf close to my feet. I'll take that as a yes. I dump the clothing pile into the basket and continue gathering what I can to place in it.

I pick up the book that had fallen and dust it off to inspect it, but I can't read the cover. The scrawl on the spine is too curly, too high-brow for me to make out. I had only just started to learn to read before Arthur got sick, and that was only in the dead of night with his help.

Picking up the clothes takes me at least an hour with the help of the house. I speak to her as I work, telling her of my previous life. Of my friends that all left for the city by the coast, my brother and my parents and our life on the farm. I was never ashamed of the hard work, in fact I took pride that I knew my way around the animals and the crops. She doesn't respond, and I feel more alone than before, but having something to do is a welcome distraction to keep from thinking about where I currently am.

Once the clothes are gone, I start on the loose items--papers and scrolls, inkwells and writing utensils. The scrolls have a curled writing similar to the book. It must be Aurelius' handwriting. Strange that such a hulking presence can have such delicate penmanship. I still can't read it, but I try to make out what I can to keep everything somewhat organized. I notice the words "festival" and "moonlight" are repeated quite a bit across the parchments.

I stand, self-consciously rubbing my arm. I hadn't seen any washbasins in here, or passed any rooms for them on my way in.

They seem to be plans for something. I pick up drawings, layouts of boxes ovals all lined up in order, with scrawled names and notations. There's lists with items crossed out, corresponding to several stacks pushed into a corner of the library. It seems like he's preparing for something, but I'm not sure what.

Only when the room is mostly clean do I sit down. My mind feels less foggy, a little more stable now that I feel like I can breathe. It allows smaller things to creep their way through my attention, like the dirt under my nails and on my feet, the sweat cooling against my dress, and the dried spill between my legs. I need to bathe.

I stand at the doorway, hoping Aurelius left it unlocked. The handle pulls easily and I'm greeted by an empty hall. It definitely wasn't the one we came in through.

"House? Where might I bathe?" I say to the empty room. She doesn't respond, only to shove the book off the low shelf again. I sigh, turning back to the hallway and starting it down. Stepping out of the library feels like a violation of some unspoken rule, but I'll do it if I must.

The first door I try opens to a small room filled with large smooth stones along the walls and floor. There's a huge window at the far end letting in the glow of sunset through, and below the window is a huge, oval-shaped wash basin built into the wall. It's made of varnished wood, stands up to my hip, and could fit three of me sitting side by side.

The space between the basin and the wall is filled with glass bottles of every color and size, some as small as my finger, others as big as my head. The light from the window hits the colored glass and refracts onto the walls, each bottle I pick up makes a tiny light flitter like an insect against the stone. I open a small bottle the color of honey and sniff, my senses filled with milk and sugar. None of them have labels-- not that I could read them anyway-- but I don't think this house would want to hurt me. I did clean up that room quite a bit, maybe this is her way of giving thanks.

The water is steaming as I strip and step into the basin. There's a small square of cloth I dunk into the water and use to scrub at my skin. I grab the honey colored bottle again, tipping the thick liquid into my palm. It lathers like soap when I rub it over the cloth, filling the room with the scent and making my skin slick.

Gradually, the dirt falls away, each pass of the cloth releasing tension I hadn't realized I'd been holding. The scent of the soap is relaxing, working in tandem with the hot water to loosen my muscles. I'd always been the last to bathe with my family, and hot water is a precious commodity. This feels like a luxury I can't afford, one I shouldn't put to waste.

I reach my thighs to scrub at the dried come, and pause for a moment. I'm not a maiden anymore, at least, not in this sense. I'm still unmarried, I think. I'm unsure what this arrangement with Aurelius constitutes as. The witches that live in the woods outside of town would howl with laughter if they knew, they might have even congratulated me.

I scrub it away, trying not to think of what happened. There's too many emotions involved, too many details. I can think later about the god that's given me his names and then left me alone to clean his house. I can think later about this messy place that is not my home but something else, something that will likely eat me if I anger her.

As soon as the water begins to cool, I get out of the tub, my mind no less clear than before. I look at my kirtle and shift with dismay. Both are a mess, covered in blood and dirt and sweat.

On instinct, I grab them both and throw them into the water, and immediately I realize what a stupid thing I've just done. This is my only dress. The kirtle alone will take hours to dry.

My head falls forward and I groan. "Idiot…" I chide. Well, it's already soaking, I may as well clean it best I can. Eyeing the bottles on the shelf, the one that grabs my eye is ruby red with a cork stopper. I uncap it give it a tentative sniff: Peach and honey, that'll do.

I pour some into my hand, and when it doesn't burn away my skin or make it turn purple or some other trick, I dunk it into the water, and the room layers with the scent of the soaps as I scrub the dirt out of my clothes. In such hot water, Mortimer's blood dissolves away, turning the water a brackish brown.

I try not to think about all that's happened in the past day, pushing back feelings too enormous for my broken mind as I scrub away the past several hours, but in the quiet, my thoughts bubble to the surface whether I like it or not.

Think about it later, Kyla. Later, later, later.

What's wrong with me? Making a deal with a god, and for what? He can take whatever he wants from me now-- for that matter he already has taken something-- he could condemn me to this house so I never set foot outside again. And this isn't my home, I think with dismay. Home is a place that takes any joy, any softness, chews it up and spits it out. This isn't my home, with it's baths and it's books and it's warmth. I haven't earned the right to live here.

And what comes next? Am I just going to live here, some sort of servant? A bed slave that also cleans? That wouldn't be the worst fate, but Aurelius never specified what my role would be, and it irks me not knowing. You don't make deals with fae, let alone one of their gods. And what do I have that he could possibly want? I need to remain useful to earn my place.

Once I'm done ignoring my feelings, I set the kirtle out to dry. The stones here are smooth and free of any dirt or grime, so I set the dress on the largest one I can find, fanning it out as much as I can so it dries evenly.

I'm left standing bare in the washroom, my hair plastered to my back and shoulders. I decide to test the waters.

"House? Would you happen to have any spare dresses?" Hopefully any other human Aurelius has brought back has left her clothes. I shudder to think of what he may have done with them.

From the shadows slides the basket of clothes I'd picked up earlier. Certainly these can't be the only clothes available. I wait for another basket to make itself known, but there's nothing. Just the steady dripping of water. Beggars can't be choosers, I suppose.

I sort through the clothes, many of which are too large for me, until I find a long shirt. The neck is high so it won't fall off my shoulders, the sleeves are cuffed so I can push them up, and it's long enough to reach my knees when I pull it over my head. This will have to do as my kirtle dries.

"Thank you," I say to the basket as I throw the discarded clothes back into it.

I find my way back to the library, hoping the house doesn't steal my clothes from me.

It seems to be a record of some sort, but I can't make out much of anything. A few numbers, a word, half of a phrase. The concentration proves to be what I need to finally pull my mind away though, and combined with the pattering of rain outside it makes my eyelids grow heavier with each page turn.

The library is cleaned enough, and I feel sleep begin to pull at my eyes. But my mind is still abuzz with thoughts, thoughts for later, so I need a distraction.

The book the house continued to push to the floor is still resting there, and I pick it up again and bring it to a pile of cushions underneath a massive window. The writing inside is the same looping scrawl on the cover, but there's sections of print that're more legible to my untrained eye. Night is beginning to creep in, but it's still bright enough that I can make out a few words.

***

The clap of thunder tears me from sleep and into full alertness. It's dark, the fire is gone, the only light coming from the moon through the window. The rain from earlier has transformed into a downpour, punctuated by lightning and thunder so loud it shakes the room.

Restless, I start to pace the floor, hands cupping my ears to mitigate some of the noise. I can't fall asleep like this, I can't even relax. If I had someone else with me, I'd feel safe, secure.

At home, I'd never been in a thunderstorm on my own. I had my parents, then my brother. It's a childish fear, I know it is, but I can't help it. Every shadow wants to jump at me, every flash from the sky makes me shake.

I curl into the cushions, squeezing my eyes shut and begging my racing heart to slow down. It's just rain, I know this, but what if it tears the house down? What if lightning comes through one of the windows?

I need to find Aurelius.

Exiting the room, I walk down the empty hall, again a different one than the first and even the second. The hallway is dark, lit only by the lightning flashing outside, so I'm feeling blindly along until I find a handle and push it open. The door swings open silently, and I step into the room.

It's a large room, probably as big as my home in the mortal plane, with high ceilings and crossing support beams. In place of the left wall is a stained glass window, the patterns forming some abstract shape I can't make out in the dark. On the far wall is a bed, four-poster and untouched, and an archway leading into a pitch black hall. The room seems empty, and I wonder why the house brought me here, when movement to the right catches my eye.

There's a loft, high in the ceiling, and inside is a nest made of branches and leaves. It's not like any bird's nest I've ever seen, it's spread and built up, integrated into the wall, clinging to itself and the beams, with structure coming up to wrap around and make an entrance.

The movement that caught my eye was inside, and through the darkness I make out the motion of breathing. That must be Aurelius.

I climb up the rafters to reach the loft, my hands shaking on every roll of thunder that pierces the glass. My heart thunders in my chest, and I nearly slip halfway up to the top. I carefully crawl on one of the rafters to this massive nest, and pause. Will he be upset with me for waking him? Will he lose himself in sleep and eat me? Another flash of lightning makes my choice for me, and I scramble into the safety of the strange nest.

It's like we're back at the altar; the whole nest smells like him-- pine and sage and everything in the forest. It's warm and comforting and safe. He's larger than I recall, laying on his side, away from me. His neck is stretched out and his head rests on the ground like a sleeping elk. I lay down, pressing myself into his back, curling my legs into my chest and resolutely watching the storm outside.

Aurelius stirs, voice almost too quiet over the rain. "Kyla."

"Forgive me," I whisper as I curl into his spine. I didn't mean to wake him up, I just wanted the company.

His large head lifts, turning on a long neck to face me. His skull is that same corrupted deer I know, but his body isn't human anymore, now more animal-like. "What are you doing?" he asks, voice heavy with sleep. The white of his skull practically glows against the dark, like a beacon for me to latch onto.

He extends his neck and in one fluid movement gently clamps his jaw over my shoulder, lifts me into the air and sets me down on the other side of his body.

I open my mouth to answer, but I'm cut off by a strike of lightning and instant clap of thunder. I jump at the noise, hiding my face in my hands. Shame burns hot through me alongside the fear, making my heart pound in my ears.

Aurelius only hums, almost a growl, the noise rippling over my skin like water.

My suspicions are confirmed-- through the darkness I can make out that he's morphed into a large deer-like animal with four legs curled under a long body. The back legs are so long they nearly brush his front as he brings his head around, pulling me into him. "You may rest here," he says.

I settle into the solid shadow of his body and the nest he's laying in. Despite being made of strips of bark and tree, it's got a layer of down feathers that make it soft. Aurelius is covered in a layer of short fur, and he's warm enough to sink into. The branch-like antlers atop his head are close to me, the silver veins catching the light when it flashes outside. I reach out and hold one in my hand, the stability working to drag me back into sleep.

Chapter 4 >>

#my writing #Sacrifice #sfw.#monster writing #skull creature #monster boyfriend #forest god #sorry for anyone who wanted a speedy updat on this #it's lookin like it's gonna be a bi-weekly thing because my god was this chapter hard to write #i scrapped it like three times because it felt boring #but i think (i hope) it sets up future chapters well enough to be necessary

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zoeykallus · 2 years

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Rex – In Love And War 4 - Mesh'la

Rex x Fem!Reader (FF)

Nervous Fluff / Flustered Rex

_________

A simple questions turns out to be actually not that simple.

_________

What Happened Before:

In Love And War

Part 2 -Noises In The Dark

Part 3 - Sinful Dreams

Part 4 - Mesh'la

The day was unpleasant. Rex seemed tense all the time, constantly avoiding your gaze, recoiling from even the slightest touch as if he would get burned by you. So the errands you had to run were exhausting and nerve-wracking. You found his behavior hurtful because you couldn't quite place it.

"Rex, I can do the rest of the errands by myself, go back to our cabin," you finally said because you couldn't take his weird behavior anymore.

Rex looked at you questioningly and raised his eyebrows.

"I'd rather stay with you, just to be safe".

"Go back to the cabin. Do I have to command you to?" you said annoyed.

Rex gazed at you in surprise, torn, he was sure you were mad about the dream.

"You're mad at me," he stated instead of leaving.

You stared at him, you didn't expect him to confront you, he usually preferred to avoid such conversations.

You crossed your arms in front of your chest and said, "Yeah, you're acting like an idiot."

He frowned.

"Excuse me?" he said critically.

Straining, you withstood the piercing gaze of his amber eyes. Not so easy, Rex could judge you with his gaze, impale you and strip you to the bone.

"You act like I did something to you the whole time! You flinch at every little touch, you don't look me in the eye when I'm talking to you.... well except for now."

"Oh" Rex said and swallowed "I didn't realize that".

He scratched the back of his head nervously.

"Why are you acting so strange? Is it because of the dream? Is it so bad that you dreamed about me that you're disgusted by me now?"

Rex's eyes widened.

"What? No!"

" That' s what you're acting like."

He shook his head, sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger.

"No, no that's not the case" he said perplexed "I just feel like I've offended you with this and continuously feel like I have to be careful that I'm not bothering you.... I have no idea how to explain this, this kind of problem is very new to me."

Now you said. "Oh...Oh"

You took a deep breath, you encouraged yourself in your mind, you intended to tell him that you felt flattered and not bothered. You couldn't keep this a secret forever.

"Rex, I have to tell you something."

His expression softened a bit as he looked at your face, you seemed so strangely vulnerable, it was unusual.

"Okay, I'm all ears"

Avoiding his gaze, you took another deep breath and laid out some words in your head, but you knew in the end completely different things would come out of your mouth, but it was worth a try.

"So you know... I think that-" in mid-sentence your courage left you "-I want to know what that word means that you call me sometimes."

Rex blinked in surprise.

"What word?"

You cleared your throat and said, "Well, that one word you've said to me a few times now."

Rex shook his head, uncomprehending.

"I don't know what you mean? Why don't you say it for me?"

"Mesh'la"

Rex seemed to have suddenly frozen, it looked like he had stopped breathing and blinking. Finally though he cleared his throat and said "Oh that word".

"What does it mean?"

"Hmm?"

You sighed and said, "You're trying to avoid me".

"No I'm not" Rex objected and crossed his strong arms in front of his chest.

"Then tell me what it means," you demanded, putting your hands on your hips.

Again he cleared his throat.

"What, mesh'la?"

You rolled your eyes but smiled at him.

"Yes, that very word"

"I wasn't even really aware I called you that," he said with a nervous smile.

"That still doesn't answer my question" you said and began to fidget impatiently.

He scratched the back of his head, moving his arms restlessly, not knowing where to put his hands.

" It' s Mando'a. The language of the Mandalorians," he explained.

When he didn't speak further you sighed, stepped closer to him and looked him in the eye, he kept his eyes on you almost nervously, looking down at you.

"What does the Mandalorian word mesh'la mean?" you inquired again, in very clearly emphasized words.

„You want to know the meaning?“

You threw your arms in the air and sighed, "Yes Rex, my goodness, that's why I must have asked you ten times now! Why won't you tell me? Is this word that bad?"

Rex shook his head, " No of course not, I would never insult you, consciously or unconsciously"

As you continued to look at him, waiting, attentive and unyielding, he finally said, "Mesh'la... means beautiful"

It took a moment before the meaning of those words really sunk in to your mind.

"You think I'm beautiful?"

Rex swallowed, finally nodded and said, "I'm sorry, that's unprofessional, I know"

Your heart was beating really fast and you felt your pulse skyrocket beyond recognition. He thought you were beautiful. But it was uncomfortable for him to feel that way, he still hadn't gotten used to you no longer being his superior officer.

Your mouth suddenly felt terribly dry. You licked your lips nervously and finally said, "We don't have to be professional, Rex."

He blinked, seeming to think for a moment before asking, "Doesn't that bother you?"

" That you think I'm beautiful?"

"Yes"

You shook your head with your heart pounding.

"No it doesn't bother me at all Rex"

He smiled a little tentatively, but you could see in his eyes that he was beginning to defrost.

"What does that mean?" he finally asked, softly.

You shrugged and said with a nervous little laugh, "That you can call me Mesh'la anytime you want?"

He laughed as well and nodded, "Okay, good to know."

You wanted to say and do so much more, a part of you sensed he felt the same way, but instead you said, "We should finish the shopping, it's getting dark soon, I don't like walking the path through the woods in the dark."

Rex blinked at the abrupt change of subject, but finally nodded and followed you to the next store. As you walked on, you could feel your heartbeat in your stomach.

@ttzamara

@chxpsi

@andyoufollowyourheart

@the-sith-in-the-sky-with-diamond

@brynhildrmimi

@nunanuggets

@clone-whore-99

misogirl828

@tech-deck @rexandechosandwich

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spaceoddball1969 · 2 years

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Falling for the Freak - Eddie Munson Fix-It Fic Chapter 15

Hi all! I hope you lovelies are having a wonderful day. My day has been strange to say the least. I was working today and bashed my elbow so hard on a door handle that I almost blacked out! I googled it and aparently I hit a nerve in my funny bone that basically controls blood flow to the brain. It freaks out when it’s pinched, resulting in dizziness. It was wild but I’m totally fine now and I can’t wait to get this chapter out. :)

CHAPTER SUMMARY: The gang and the reader fill Eddie in on the Upside Down. This chapter is a bit short but I hope you like it!

DISCLAIMERS/WARNINGS: Some of the dialogue about Vecna I am taking from the script of ST4. As in it’s not original. So just so nobody thinks I’m trying to steal from the Duffer Brothers, here we are. Fluff, a wee bit of angst maybe, probably some language (also I promise this is actually a fix-it fic. The terrible awful from ST4 episode 9 is not going to happen in here.) A little bit of smut - it’s not going to but super smutty, but it’ll be a bit steamy.

Chapter 15

Dustin, Max, Steve, and Robin took turns explaining to Eddie what exactly has been going on in Hawkins over the last three years. I held Eddie’s hand while they talked and rubbed slowly at his back when he seemed to be getting obviously stressed. Even though this was the second time I had heard the explanation of the Upside Down, it was still difficult to comprehend. I found myself wishing that I could meet Eleven and witness her powers for myself. Maybe then my brain would truly be able to wrap around everything they were saying. Until then, I just had to trust my friends.

Things got even more complicated when Eddie described what had happened at his trailer the previous night. He explained that Chrissy had risen into the and that her bones snapped and her eyes...were sucked back into her skull, leaving nothing but the sockets. The strangest part of it all was that there was no one visibly doing these things to Chrissy. According to Eddie, she just floated up into the air and then her body started breaking on its own.

“It was like she was in a trance or something,” Eddie said, staring at the floor. I could tell by the look on his face he wasn’t seeing the floorboards underneath his feet. He was seeing the horrors he had witnessed last night.

“Like a spell,” Dustin said.

“A curse,” Eddie said.

“Vecna’s curse,” Dustin said, realization dawning on his face.

“Who’s Vecna?” Steve asked.

“An undead creature of great power,” Dustin said. He looked terrified now. “He’s a dark wizard,”

“Great,” Steve said, throwing his hands up in the air. “That’s just great,”

“Eddie,” Dustin said, “we’re going to prove your innocence. I promise,”

“How do you plan to do that though?” Eddie asked. “You can’t really go around town saying ‘oh don’t worry, the town freak didn’t kill the queen of Hawkins High, it was actually a wizard from another dimension,”

“He does have a point,” Robin conceded.

“We’re going to fix it,” Dustin said. “We’re at least going to stop Vecna from hurting anybody else.

“How exactly do we do that though?” Max asked.

Dustin paused. “I don’t know.” he admitted. “But we’ve faced these things before. And we’ll do it again. We have to,”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Eddie asked.

“Yeah,” I said. “I want to help too,”

“Eddie, I hate to say it, but by now you’re a wanted man,” Dustin said. “We can’t risk you being seen and getting caught by the cops. You should probably just lay low for a while,”

“You mean just stay here?” Eddie asked. “Henderson, I’m already starting lose my mind and it’s only been a day,”

“It’s not ideal at all, I know,” Dustin said. I was surprised at how mature my cousin was being. He was handling this like a grown adult. “But it’s not worth taking the risk. We can bring you food and things to keep you occupied while we figure out what to do about Vecna,”

Dustin pulled out a walkie talkie from his backpack and handed it to Eddie. “Use this to contact us. Whenever you need something just give us a call,”

Eddie took hold of the walkie talkie and put it in his lap. “You really think this is the best option for me?”

“At least for now,” Dustin said.

“Once the coast is clear, we’ll reach out and let you know,” Robin said.

Eddie nodded. Everyone fell silent for a moment. Then Max spoke up. “I hate to say it, but we should probably get going. My mom is going to start worrying about where I am if I don’t get home soon,”

“Yeah,” Dustin said. “My mom is probably already having a heart attack,”

The others started to gather their things, but I remained seated on the floor with Eddie. I pulled his hand into my lap and covered it with both of my hands. “I don’t want to leave you here,” I said.

“It’s ok,” Eddie said. “I already made it through one night, I guess I can do another,”

“I won’t sleep knowing you’re out here by yourself,” I said. I raised his hand up to my lips and kissed his knuckles. “I want to stay with you,”

“Y/N?” Dustin asked. “You coming?”

I looked at Eddie. “I’m going to stay here,” I said. “I don’t want to leave him.”

“Are you sure?” Dustin asked.

“Yeah,” I said. “Just tell your mom that I’m staying with Robin or something,”

“Ok,” Dustin said.

He started to walk away but I stood up and put a hand on his shoulder. I pulled him into a tight hug and kissed the top of his head. “Be safe,” I said.

“You too,” he replied.

Eddie and I watched as the four of them left the boathouse. We sat in silence until we heard the engine of Steve’s car roar to life. Eddie stood up, pulling me up with him “We should probably head back up to the house,” he said. “Find some food,”

I nodded and together we walked out of the boathouse and up to Reefer Rick’s house. We snuck in the back door and kept the lights out so nobody would suspect that a break-in had occurred. Eddie held my hand as he led me into the kitchen. We rooted through the cupboards and the fridge until we found supplies to make peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.

“Do you believe it?” Eddie finally asked.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“The whole interdimensional monster shit,” Eddie said. “Do you really think they know some kind of X-Men type chick?”

“I can’t believe they would make it all up,” I said. “I don’t know, for some reason it seems to make everything make sense. Like how could so many terrible things happen to one town without some kind of explanation? This seems to string everything together a bit more,”

“Yeah,” Eddie said, “I guess that’s true. It’s just wild. All I wanted was to graduate high school and now I’m wanted for murder and involved in a war that reaches outside of our dimension. It’s just a lot,”

“I know,” I said, resting my hand over his. “We’ll figure it out though.”

“You’re not scared?” Eddie asked.

“I’m terrified,” I said. “But I’m not letting you go through this alone,”

He leaned forward and kissed me softly. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you,”

“I could say the same about you,” I said.

We ate our sandwiches and then Eddie announced he was going to take a shower. I sat at the table while he gathered up towels and disappeared into the bathroom. At the table, I felt incredibly lonely. The room suddenly felt empty and dark and terrifying. I stood up and slowly walked to the bathroom door. The bathroom didn’t have any windows and light poured out from under the door into the hallway. I could hear Eddie moving around the room, getting ready to get in. My hand now rested on the doorknob. I took a deep breath and let it out. I turned the knob and opened the door slowly.

When I peaked my head in, Eddie turned to look at me. He was standing there shirtless, the steam from the shower already making his hair frizzier than it usually was. He froze, looking at me. “Hey,” he said.

“Hey,” I said. “Can I join you?”

Eddie’s eyebrows rose in surprise. He slowly took a few steps towards me. He pulled the door open the rest of the way until I could enter the room. “Come on in,” he said.

Eddie put his hands on my hips and slowly pushed me back until I bumped into the sink counter. He dipped his head down until he could reach my mouth with his. Eddie pressed a deep kiss to my lips. I wrapped my arms around his neck as he slipped his fingers under the hem of my shirt. He lifted it over my head and then unclasped my bra. Eddie kissed his way down my body until he reached my jeans. He got down on his knees and unbuttoned my pants. Eddie pulled them down, taking my panties with them. I stepped out of my pants as Eddie unbuckled his belt and took off his pants.

Eddie kissed me softly and then took my hands in his. He led me to the shower and we stepped in. He held me close and kissed me for a long time. Eventually he pulled away and grabbed the bar of soap. He ran the bar all over my skin, washing me clean. Once he was done, Eddie passed the bar to me and allowed me to do them for him. We took turns washing each other’s hair and eventually ended up wrapped around each other again.

“Thank you for staying here with me,” Eddie said quietly, stroking my hair.

“Of course,” I said. “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else,”

Eddie got really quiet. He held me closer to his body. “Y/N?” he asked.

“Hmm?” I asked.

“I’m scared,” Eddie said. “I’m really scared,”

“Me too,” I said. “I’m here though. Whenever you get scared, you can hold my hand,”

“You can do the same,” Eddie said. “When you get scared,”

We both held each other tighter.

---

We layed in bed for the rest of the evening. Eddie was flat on his back and I was curled up against his side. Eddie was in his boxers and I was in his Hellfire shirt. As we clung to each other, Eddie stroked my hair slowly and kissed my face a every few minutes. I kept my hand on his chest and felt his heartbeat under my fingers.

“You came for me,” Eddie said suddenly.

“What?” I asked.

“You came for me,” Eddie said. “Even though I’m the prime suspect for a murder. You came to find me,”

“Of course,” I said. “I knew you were innocent.”

“How?” Eddie asked.

“Because I know you,” I said. “I was actually more worried that you were the victim. I saw it was your trailer on the news and they hadn’t let out the name yet. All they said was that it was a Hawkins High student.”

“How did you figure it out that it wasn’t me?” he asked.

“I called your uncle,” I said.

Eddie was quiet. “What did he say?”

“He said you were innocent,” I said. “But he’s worried about what they’re going to do to you in the news,”

“Make out the metalhead to be a murderer,” Eddie sighed.

“Yeah,” I said. “The whole Satanic Panic thing has really got people freaked out,”

Eddie nodded. “My uncle really thinks I’m innocent?”

“Of course he does,” I said. I paused. “We’re going to get you out of this, Eddie. I don’t know how, exactly, but we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,”

“I hope that bridge comes fast,” Eddie said, rolling over to face me.

“Me too,” I said.

Eddie slipped both arms around me and held me close. He pressed a soft kiss to my forehead and let out a long sigh. We fell asleep holding each other for dear life.

Falling for the Freak Taglist:

@dilophosaurusatenewman @efvyqrs @babeyglo @aestaethicvante @kbakery @kaqua @aereth @starryeyedkoko @livlaughquinn @lorrainlikesprivacy @possiblyexisting @cryuki-patootie @beepisbeep

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #female reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fix-it fic #falling for the freak #chapter 15 #joseph quinn #stranger things #stranger things 4 #stranger things fix-it fic #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut #fanfiction #fix-it fic

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darkdevasofdestruction · 2 years

Text

Chapter 12 - Foxes Have Fangs And Rabies

Leaning back on the counter of the bar, a Campari Orange in her hand, she watched the beginning of the match between the doctor and the serial killer on TV. Neither of them too any stances, not considering themselves martial artists of any kind, yet the doctor that, although just barely taller than the red head, seemed to look like a pomeranian compared to Bando, he held a smug smirk on his face, and was the first to react to his enemy's attack, poking his arm in numerous places with two of his fingers.

"That looks like a Chinese style... Is he hitting the acupuncture points?" the girl asked, sipping from the straw. "Hmmm... I think I heard of this before. Considering he's a medic, I guess I shouldn't be surprised. Lingshu Chin Na is called, but it's a very old martial arts style. I think I only saw it imitated in movies or something." Hatsumi nodded his head in agreement. "I don't want to imagine you having to fight with that brute. Though Hanafusa is fast, he can't match you. Not that Bando could defeat you, but it would require a bit more effort, and that would suck." Kisara chuckled lightly. "As always, you know your Senpai the best." he laughed lightly, patting her head as he took a swing of his beer. "My guess is, he'll try to strike the cervical vertebra." he continued speaking. "Ah, yes, because the C1 and C2 vertebras, Atlas and Axis, are sort of fused together, and they create the joint that connects the skull with the spine. If that's severed, so will the nerves and nerve plexuses the person gets paralysed, and it's game over." she hummed in agreement. "You two sure know a lot about this... Ah, look, you were right, Doctor Hanafusa did strike at the cervical!" Kaede's eyes widened slightly, seeing how the two predicted with such ease the future moves. "Why are his fingers all screwed up?" Kisara leaned forward in her seat, confused as all hell, only to hear the explanation from the man himself, saying he's some kind of abnormal human, though Hanafusa himself wasn't normal either, considering he felt no kind of pain, despite it being excruciating, to say the least. "You can't build muscles at the back of your neck like that, to defend the vertebra like a shield... So what was it?" the blond doctor, answered for them, noting that Bando had an abnormal range of joint motion - Which mean that he moved his vertebra in an arch so much that he pinched his fingers between the occipital bone of the skull and the cervical vertebras. To show off, Bando bent backwards... Or forwards? With all of the joints from his neck, spine and arms, freaking out all the ones watching the match. "Is this a horror movie?" Kisara shuddered, watching with disgust the way the huge man contorted like a freak. "This is as close to a horror movie as you can get." Wakatsuki agreed solemnly, though as they all watched the fight, Yohei was ready to hit the smaller opponent, only to get cut and start bleeding. The little freak was able to carve blades from his own femur bone... And the bone is probably one of the strongest things a sword can be made of. "I'm both freaked out and intrigued by this shit fest." Kisara couldn't help but let out a chuckle of surprise. "I don't wanna fight either of them, it's gonna be such a drag..." Hatsumi groaned, his hands going down his face, a downcast expression on his face. "With the way Hanafusa did this augmentation of his own body, I can only imagine he must have played around with his own hypothalamus, considering he can't feel pain at all. How he was able to do either of these things... It's beyond me. If you can't feel pain, you can't feel the warnings the body gives you, which means the only way to defeat Hanafusa is to kill him - Not that Bando minds, he's a serial killer, after all." her breath was caught in her throat and she could only sip on that cocktail and watch that damn fight. Was that even considered a fight though? It was a murderfest. If those augmentations weren't enough though, once Hanafusa hit Bando's face with his heel, and it got split.

None of the augmentations, speed, agility or reflexes could save the little doctor, for once the killer took ahold of both of his arms, and pushed down his head so hard that the back of it touched his own back, and the vertebra snapped loudly. Hanafusa fell to the ground, laying in an awkward angle, while Bando stood tall, only sliced briefly here and there. Before the doctor could hit his spine with that spear-like femur blade, he shifted it to the side, completely missing the rupture.

"Well, I'm glad it's over, this was difficult to watch. Thank you for the drink, I'm going to find the others." Kaede left the bar. "Only two more matches already, how the time flies. Well, it was really fun today, and it's only going to get better. I'm going to see Gaolang. I've seen some of his matches online and I was really drawn to his beautiful fighting style. Toodles~!" with a characteristic peace sign, the red head jumped off the tall bar stool and skipped excitedly towards the entrance towards the area. She didn't realise it until now, but she really does have a lot of friends, considering the amount of time she spent down there, compared to how long she sat in the stadium. There was something really exciting about seeing the fights from down there, though you could see the whole spectacle much better from up there, with a panoramic view and a better angle of both competitors.

As she got down, Gaolang was already there, wearing a light robe with a hoodie, just like he did in all of his matches on TV - Black and golden, elegant as always, and his fighting trunks were golden too - Golden, gold, the spiritual colour associated with God, with Buddha, with the Holy Power -The Thai God of War - He truly deserved that name. No matter what situation, he seemed unbothered, with the same passive expression, unbothered by the world around him, almost as if he is above all the petty, mundane things, and that forehead jewellery made him beyond graceful.

"Gaolang - I'd wish you good luck, but you won't need it." the man turned around and looked down at her, the corners of his mouth slowly turning upwards. "You really have a lot of friends, don't you?" he seemed rather amused. "And, as I said, I would like to consider you one as well." her voice was calm, as well as her smile. And Sayaka called out for the Thai God of War, Kisara's smile widened slightly. "Break his face, Gaolang." the vibrato of her tone betrayed her amusement. "I don't like overkilling." he regaled her with his comment as he turned around and stepped into the arena. Compared to him, Kaneda was a nobody, a small and skinny little kid, just like Hanafusa was around Bando. However, unlike before, Kaneda barely had anything that inspired strength or tactics, and Gaolang was a master Boxer and Muay Thai fighter.

Compared to most of these guys... An amateur mimic actor, a big oaf, some small fries who rely on weapons... For Gaolang, this was nothing more than a stupid show meant for entertainment, not a place for true warriors to fight. If someone like Kaneda could get inside the arena and fight, it spoke volumes what kind of people were participating... Or so he thought. Although right about his assumption that Kaneda was nothing less than average, there were many others that he was easily underestimating, and he will find that out sooner than expected.

Well, none of that mattered, he was there to fight and that's what he shall be doing. For His Highness and for the Glory of his Homeland, he will crush anyone who stands before him. Thus, he took his famous Hitman style stance that he used when boxing, while Kaneda had his palms forwards, as if he was trying to mimic a karate stance. Kisara wondered if Kaneda knew that he was slowly inching backwards... And she couldn't blame him. He wasn't superhuman, and he was against someone like Gaolang, he had every right to be afraid. Maybe he was stronger than Rihito or Himuro, who knew, but that would never be enough to win the competition... Perhaps he wants some recognition, or he has something to prove? Surely, he couldn't be like Ohma, ready to show that he is the strongest amongst the strongest... Because he definitely wasn't. Only he knew.

Gaolang didn't move in the slightest, awaiting Kaneda's incredibly slow moves, as she dragged his feet straight ahead, centimeter by centimeter, a line being drawn in the sand, until he managed to get in the boxer's territory. Before he could even realise what was going on, the Thai hit Kaneda with that lethal left jab, and it was an infinite times faster now, without the heavy boxer gloves that were hindering him. It was absolutely outstanding, watching his speed, as Kisara was also someone who greatly relied on agility, speed and reflexes. Though she will never be as strong as him, she at least hopes she can achieve his interceptable hits. But... Kaneda wasn't as screwed as she thought he would be after taking direct hits from Gaolang... So maybe... He managed to block them? "You nearly dislocated my wrists." he said... Then, yes, he managed to block Gaolang Wongsawat's famous hits, that's astonishing! Only with this, with being able to block at such speed, Kaneda was beyond the idiots he was hanging out with... More or less. That slanty-eyed tanuki, he has more than eight tricks up those large sleeves! To escape that with nothing more than a nosebleed? Unbelievable. Getting ready, Kaneda got in a stance and sprinted again, leaping to attack, but... He got hit every time. 1... 2... 3... 4... 13... 14... And more... Crescent scythe, Lever Throw... But Kaneda got ahold of the Thai's joint... But he got thrown away. He put his forearms arm to block those hits, and he got jab after jab after jab... Until he managed to get another grab on Gaolang, and he threw him to the ground, using the Overturning Heaven and Earth technique, holding onto his forearm and keeping the joint locked tightly. But he only thought he threw him to the ground, for the man kept his balance easily, all his weight balanced on his forearm like he was doing a very painful sideplank, while with his other fist he punched Kaneda's face.

The smaller one got attacked by the flash of jabs again, but he somehow seemed to be holding his own just as well, until he got punched in the face and gut, and he collapsed on the ground. As soon as he was wallowing on the ground, Gaolang turned around, ready to leave, but Kaneda somehow managed to get up, and he was pissed off. "Don't give me this shit... Some boxing champion you are. Is this how you treat your opponents?" slowly but surely, Kaneda, panting, managed to get up on shaky feet. "Why didn't you follow up that last blow? If you had given me one more blow, you could've clinched the victory. Did you go easy on me? Just because I'm weak?" although weak, those words were speaking to Kisara on a personal level. She also always considered herself to be a weakling and she needed to get stronger, though no matter who looked at her, they underestimated her for being a petite woman. He was just like her - Small and frail. "You know... I'm a fan of yours. I've watched your matches over and over... Even before this fight was set up. No gloves, no shoes... No rules... Surely you can do better than this, now that you've been freed from all restrictions!" the man cried out, his hands on his knees to keep himself up. "Kaneda Suekichi, I'll give your due credit. I had scorned this tournament. Encountering a true warrior like yourself here was a pleasant surprise... However, there is a great wall between you and me. I do not mean to kill you..." but Gaolang was stopped by a desperate Kaneda. "THAT'S WHAT I MEAN! YOU'RE NOT TAKING ME SERIOUSLY! I KNOW THAT I'M NOT GIFTED, BUT THIS IS ALL I HAVE, AND I'M WILLING TO LAY DOWN MY LIFE FOR IT!!!" those words not only rung loudly through the arena, but they also impaled Kisara's heart like a poisoned spear. They were so painful that she thought she heard herself crying out to Hatsumi - When she got ganged up in the alley, when she let out all her frustrations and cried the whole night while shrieking her voice away up into the mountains, when she was so weak that she couldn't get up from the sickness, but her held her up and helped her strike, when she thought the whole world was against her and she was lonelier than ever, when she thought she was nothing more than a useless waste of space, someone so pathetic, that no matter how hard she worked, she couldn't get motivation, nor the results she wished for... She wasn't perfect. She wasn't a prodigy. She wasn't a big deal. But Hatsumi made her feel otherwise.

Ohma, too, whenever he'd teach her those moves, and she wouldn't fall down like a trampled flower anymore, and he showed her that proud smile of his... And he told he he was proud of her and how far she's gotten, how great she's become... Cosmo too, though he hadn't really seen her fight... He caught from the side of his eye one interaction between her and Akira, when he tried to sneak up on her when she was walking around the room and explaining whatever medical things to some colleague of hers over the phone, and as soon as he lunged to grab her, she turned around and flipped him over with such ease. It made the little boy's eyes gouge out with shock, but was also amused enough to laugh his butt off. Takeshi, too - He didn't need to see anything, he knew that if one of the only men who was able to defeat him trained her, and they were so compatible, then there was no way she couldn't succeed... And when she saw how easily she messed around with those two assassins, he knew she was capable of taking care of herself, especially in such a dire environment like the underground.

She never imagined that any fighter in the Kengan association would be feeling the way she felt, but somehow, his words made her feel empowered. "Why does everybody have to put a label on me?! WHAT'S WRONG WITH THE WEAK SEEKING TO BE THE STRONGEST?!" though it's obvious he can't be the absolute strongest, she truly appreciates Kaneda for being so genuine and doing everything in his power to achieve his dreams, despite knowing full well they will never become reality. "DON'T GO EASY ON HIM, GAOLANG! SHOW HIM SOME RESPECT! HE IS YOUR EQUAL!" Kisara shrieked out from the entrance of the arena. At the same time, Saw Paing too yelled out to his best friend. "LET HIM HAVE IT, GAOOOLAAAAAAAAANGGGGG!!!" his voice could be heard among the whole chattering. "You don't need to tell me, you two. I apologise. I did not want to kill you... Therefore, I only exerted power on par with my boxing matches, but I was mistaken. Kisara told me once that champions of public matches are nothing compared to real fighters... That even she could defeat some so-called Kickboxing champion... And she was right, and so are you, Kaneda. You can easily stay equal with my TV Boxing Champion persona... But fighting is fighting. Fighting you at full force is a true courtesy. Whatever excuse I may give, I showed you pity, and on the battlefield, pity is nothing but humiliation. A battle must be fought on even ground. It appears that I have been reigned by arrogance, but now, I understand. I shall show my respect for you by crushing you with my full power." Kaneda thanked Gaolang for that courtesy, and sincerely speaking, Kisara was happy beyond belief. Though the small fighter will be getting the beating of a lifetime, she could see that even if you lose, people still recognise your efforts, and you're not just a forgotten loser, but you get appreciated for trying so hard. It felt wholesome how even though nobody was really betting on his, they still hoped, at least a little bit, in their heart, that he would win... Or at least feel proud of how far he's gotten, despite his weak body and the various illnesses he has.

One single punch from Gaolang could knock him out, but he was ready to fight. Because it was pretty far away, Kisara couldn't see perfectly what was going on in that incredibly speedy fight, but she could see the way Kaneda was able to dodge and parry most of the hits Gaolang tried to hit with his perfect precision... But the end was near, and predictable. One punch to the face was all it took, and Kaneda Suekichi was on the ground, with a ten-move checkmate. That, in itself, was a remarkable feat that few world-renowned fighters could achieve. As the Thai walked out of the arena, he could see Kisara still there, a serene smile on her face, though it was more directed to the man he had defeated so honorably. "He was a formidable opponent." he recognised his worth. "Yes... I agree. I never thought I would relate to a fighter so much, but his words moved me. Someone who is weak, working so hard to get over his weaknesses, the disadvantages that he was born with... Though he looked as nothing more than average for someone talented like you... For someone like me, he was sort of an inspiration, if it makes sense." her voice was now more solemn, and her words spoke truth. "I understand now. I hate myself for allowing the veil of vanity and arrogance blind me, but I must thank all of you for showing me that I shouldn't disrespect my opponent, no matter who they are, or the level of their strength." he admitted truthfully. "We, also, thank you for honouring our request and not mocking us, despite being inferior to you, fighting-wise." nodding at each other in understanding, they walked down towards the corridor. Whilst Gaolang stopped mid-way so he could take a shower and freshen himself up, Kisara went ahead - But before long, the whole stadium began to shake as if an earthquake was trembling the whole Earth down, and distant murmurs almost resembled religious chanting. What the hell was going on? This was getting kinda creepy. Sighing, she called Takeshi on the phone, wanting to figure out his location so she could go over to him, and as she was talking, she unconsciously walked and spun around without aim.

As soon as she heard him and the Akiyama sisters were ready to watch the match from one of the arena entrances, she hung up and turned abruptly - Only to bump into something solid. With a small squeak of surprise, she lost balance and stumbled on her feet, backwards - Yet thankfully, she got caught by the wrist before she could fall down. "Ahhh, I'm so sorry, I wasn't watching where I was going. Forgive me..." she raked her fingers through her hair, daring to look up at whoever that person was, apologetically. "It's fine." the owner of this low and intimidating yet incredibly alluring and velvety voice was a man definitely taller and possibly buffer than even Takeshi himself. He had a set, stern and very scary visage, dark, endless black eyes and matching black hair, slicked back carefully. Though there were many fighters who chose different outfits for their fights, this one wore something akin to a scuba full-body costume, but somehow, it was making him even scarier, and every outline of his muscles were even more defined. "Thank you for catching me." she quickly got reminded of how afraid she was of Takeshi at first, only for him to end up being her best friend. Maybe this one was just like him? Only scary on the outside, but a golden heart on the inside. "My name is Kisara, it's lovely meeting you." she extended her hand forwards, for him to shake. And he did, albeit, rather reluctantly, even going as far as to look down at her almost skeptically. And yet, he still shook her hand politely, and disclosed his name to her. "Kano Agito." her eyes widened, and she could only gaze at him with awe - Now she could understand why everyone was going crazy over him - His presence alone made him stand out among fighters - He had a special aura around him, something that she could easily pick up after all the years spent watching Kengan matches. Still, she didn't want to look like some annoying fangirl or creep him out, so she easily got over her shock and offered him a cheerful smile. "Kano Agito - What a beautiful name! I had an inkling you were a fighter, but I didn't realise who you were. Well - Your fight is right now, so I won't keep you any longer. Thank you for your time, and good luck in your match! I'm sure it's going to be a very enjoyable fight." Kisara wished him, and though it took him a couple seconds to just stare at him, confusion swimming in his eyes, he nodded in acknowledgement and offered a courtesy "Thank you." before walking past her, towards his match.

This interaction with him only made the red head giddy - He really was nice and incredibly awkward, not different from Wakatsuki at all! What a relief! Hopefully, she will get around to befriend him, one way or another, but it wasn't going to be easy. It wasn't often when she felt no malice from a scary man, but he was definitely one of them. Skipping towards the point her friend allocated as their meeting one, and surely enough, the trio was there, watching with shock as the stadium began chanting even louder.

"This is pretty overwhelming... All of the spectators are confident that the "Fang" will win. They've seen all the warriors that've already advanced, and yet, they're still just as fanatical. It's more like a Faith... He's definitely got the homefield advantage. He's got the upper hand before the match even begins." Kaede noted, sweating from the sheer pressure. "Advantage? I wouldn't say that necessarily. Real fighters get determined win a fight when all odds are against them. Cheering won't do Agito any good, he's far beyond something as shallow as that. The crowd is fickle, it cheers on the one who has the advantage and bashes the other, and it changes with the tide of the ocean." Kisara let out a scoff of amusement - The man she just met was definitely beyond doing something as mundane as to be concerned with the public opinion. "Right, Take-... Shi? Hey, Takeshi, are you okay?" as she turned around, she noticed the grave frown of raw anger on the man's face, and his whole body was tensed up. She knew why. The Fang was Takeshi's number one enemy... The person who managed to defeat him, to humiliate him... Something only Agito and Hatsumi managed to do... "It's been eight years... I've kept you waiting long enough. Now I have a Fang that can bite you to death." Wakatsuki threatened under his breath. But the atmosphere was far too grave, and Kisara hated seeing her best friend being so anxious and tense, so bad that he could get an aneurysm in the blink of an eye. "That's right, Takeshi, you're the Wild Tiger, and you've got huge, scary fangs that can easily defeat Agito. But - You know something? I'm a Kitsune! That's right, I have a fighter title as well! And you know what? Look at my smile - I've always had my canines a bit longer than the average person. I really look like a fox. And you know what foxes have? They have fangs, and oftentimes, they have rabies too! If you want, I'll go right in front of Agito and say - Hey! You! Big guy! Let's fight! And even though he will defeat me easily and make a nice scarf out of my fur - He will get rabies, go crazy and die, from the small bit I gave him!" the girl laughed as easy-going as Hatsumi taught her. "And then, the great, the unique, the fantastic, the strong Wild Tiger, Wakatsuki Takeshi, will be reigning over the Kengan fighters, just like the Tiger is known as the Supreme King in the Chinese culture!" with her fist clenched, she extended it towards him, for him to bump with his own. "How was that? Did it help at all?" seeing as he didn't reply at all, her smile faltered and got super awkward, and she couldn't help but chuckle softly and look away in embarrassment. Though she heard a small huff of amusement and her fist was bumped. "Thanks, Kisara, it did help. But I won't let you become a scarf. If I am to lose, then I shall become a Tiger pelt carpet... But I won't lose again. I will not lose." he was determined and sure of himself. "That's what I love to hear! Hmmm... I wonder if we have paper and crayons around. I want to make you a crown, and I'll make sure to have lots of pretty colours for the gems." she chuckled reassuringly at him - For some reason, she always hated seeing her friends being even the littlest bit upset or nervous, and knowing that rationality and cheap reassuring wouldn't work in this situation, putting a smile on his face was the next best thing. People need different things at different times, you just have to know what to choose at the right time. "That's right. Takeshi is powerful enough to rival the 'Fang'. Revenge isn't out of the question." Sakura smiled, nodding in agreement. "Nope, 'fraid it ain't happening, ladies." a foreign voice called out, and the four turned to see a large figure approaching. "Might sorry, Wakatsuki, but I'm gonna be taking the 'Fang's' head." this was Naoya, one of the member of the single braincell group... And that braincell was Kaneda's alone. "Okubo Naoya... I have one warning to give you. Don't think of the 'Fang' as human. He's more of a powerful and violent disaster." that was one way to describe a foe... Now Kisara was even more intrigued to see the fight. "Oh? So, in other words, he's like a monster? This is gonna be good. Well, time to go slay that monster!" thus, Naoya went past them, and towards the entrance towards the Arena, waiting to be introduced by Sayaka. "That man silenced all of his critics with his skills alone. He's built up a record that holds its ground even against THE Gaolang... But, we'll have to see how far it gets him against the 'Fang'." with a pensive hum, Takeshi stepped forwards to get a better look of the arena, just as Okubo got inside and bathed in the loud cheers. The man known as the 'King of Combat' against the Emperor of the Kengan... It was going to be a fight worth watching.

But now that Sayaka was ready to introduce Agito, the whole place got graveyard quiet all of a sudden, and only praises of his 157 winning streak were heard. As soon as that man's name was yelled by the announcer, all the fighters turned their heads to gaze upon his greatness, as if he was the Messiah blessing humanity. Those who were seeing him for the first time could immediately recognise his overwhelming power, whilst those who already knew him, trembled before his might.

Despite all this, Naoya wasn't afraid. He even saw himself as the Strongest Human, the one human protagonist that managed to beat the final boss, Zetton, who seemed to be Agito personified. As the referee had them take their stance, Okubo chose a basic MMA style stance, and Agito took an offensive stance with lowered guard - As soon as the fight was announced to have begun, Naoya launched himself forwards, ready to punch Agito, who held his guard up - Naoya tried to tackle his opponent, but he got pulled downwards by his shoulders, then got sent backwards by a strong knee to the nose, follower by a shin kick to his thigh, that he felt as if a cleaver chopped off his entire leg. Through the shock, Naoya dodged and blocked continuous right roundhouse punch, double push, right straight jab, another kick straight to his triceps.

Though the human tried to hit him, he got grabbed with both hands by the back of his head and brought roughly down, another knee hit into his gut, followed by another and another, and then another push on his head, continued by another knee - But before that could connect, Okubo managed to land a jab right into Agito's face, grabbing his body, and 34 seconds into the match, the Strongest Human succeeded in a takedown, followed by a painful heel hold. Who knew that someone so huge would be a master grappler, with such ease that he could rival even the Grappler King Cosmo? Though, maybe this works on Agito specifically because Naoya has raw strength and can keep Agito in a hold, unlike Cosmo who would be struggling... Though, he did real well against Adam Dudley regardless, so who could know for sure?

Agito tried to get out of the hold by using his other foot to stomp down on Naoya's chest, making him lose balance, and as he attempted to get back the hold, the Fang grabbed his wrist, holding it tightly with both hands, keeping Okubo's neck into a thigh lock. Though his other foot was still free, he attempted to free himself by trying a stomp, but it was dodged, and he got pulled down into an arm-bar hold... But no, the positions were switched again for a brief second when Okubo escaped, only to get pulled into a scarf hold - And he escaped again. The two continued to tackle each other on the ground with no break between the ground grappling and the continuous locks they were holding onto each other, each of them holding dominance for less than a second, until Naoya managed to fully mount Agito, and he pummeled fist after fist down onto his forearm defense - He must have felt that something was weird, allowing himself to get hit, even if it was just his guard being hit - But before Okubo could realise what move the Emperor would put, he got sent flying by the famous Pelvic Thrust that was such a perfect saviour in any mounting.

Naoya kept his distance, watching carefully as The Fang got up, and he grinned like a... Like a villain, was probably the right word. "We've seen all your blows, throws and locks. And you will never reach me." the way he was addressing himself was a bit weird. "Why is he referring to himself in plural?" Kisara asked herself, though not even Wakatsuki knew for sure. "Well, it's over. Okubo Naoya is strong. Stronger than I ever expected. I've got a lot of credit to give him for lasting this long, but now that the Fang got serious, there's nothing he can do. Okubo Naoya has reached peak human performance... But a human can't defeat a monster. Okubo's attacks won't reach the Fang anymore." as soon as Takeshi declared that, the man in cause struck hard, hitting Agito's face and driving him backwards, before getting into a low tackling stance and launching himself forwards, aiming a roundhouse hit that got Agito in the temple, tilting his vision enough to earn Naoya a couple of precious seconds that allowed him to grab the Emperor and hit him with the famous German Suplex that was Seki's show move. Though Agito coughed blood, he was met with another face fist right in the nose, followed by more others, until finally the Fang retaliated and grabbed the human's wrist, throwing him away. "This is fascinating. I can't keep my eyes off of them." Kisara was in awe at the intensity of the fight. Even if Naoya was driven away, he returned and delivered more blows to the face, not keeping a pattern - Or at least, so he thought. He can easily synthetise various technique and fuse them together and he outright refuses to cooperate to whatever fighting style Agito wants to force him into. From a blow to a throw, from grabbing his enemy, to slamming him into the ground, from a throw to a neck hold, and despite Agito's fantastic flexibility that allowed him to do something much more astonishing than a split in the air to hit his foot backwards into Naoya's arm and release him, and once he got released, his enemy got in a quick crouch and tackled the middle of his torso, evading the punch easily, grappling him and throwing him with another German suplex, making him bounce onto the sandy floor with a kick to his face.

Kano Agito was planted face down onto the ground, unmoving, and everyone was cheering and chanting at how amazing Naoya was for dominating the flow of the battle. "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?! DON'T GIVE HIM ANY BREAKS, OKUBO! THE MATCH ISN'T OVER YET! YOU'RE UP AGAINST THE BOSS OF THE MONSTERS!!! YOU CAN NEVER DROP YOUR GUARD AGAINST HIM!!!" Himuro's shout towards his friend could be heard from all over the arena. "He's... He's not dead, is he?" Kaede's voice stammered, confused at the unmoving man and why the match wasn't over yet. "... I don't think Kano Agito would be defeated by something like that. Though Naoya's fighting was spectacular... That's still the famous Fifth Fang of Metsudo we're talking about. He wouldn't be defeated so easily." Kisara stepped even closer towards the arena, barely capable of keeping herself from running out there, just to get a better sight of the match. She really wished she was a butterfly, so that she could easily watch the fight from a better angle.

From up on the screen, as Agito got up, everyone could see that monstrous, psychopathic cheshire grin of his, wide and wicked, from ear to ear. "Th-That's not a human face!" Kaede was trembling from a distance, distraught at the sight before her. "He has evolved...!" Though Kaede's heart was beating quickly with fear, Kisara's was going a thousand miles per hour from excitement. No other fight got her as excited as this one, and seeing a fighter evolve like this... It wasn't like Ohma's Advance, when she was scared beyond belief that he would die on the spot, but it wasn't like Raian's Release either, since his screwed up personality was the same. The Agito before them now seemed like a complete different person compared to the man that fought just a little before, the same person who introduced himself to her and even thanked her for wishing him good luck on his match. This was the face of a man that was born to fight, lived to fight, and will die to fight. What a God...

As Naoya got into a stance again, ready to take him on again, the Fang, with indecipherable speed, propelled himself forwards, easily evading the Super Human's grappling, and launching a barrage of jabs that easily pushed his enemy backwards. Okubo tried to grapple him again, but he got punched in the temple with a roundhouse punch that blurred his vision - And the Fang grabbed him tightly, slamming him to the ground with a front suplex that even Seki would find worthy of praise, and his arm was up, his fist clenched tightly .....

And he stopped in that mounted position, with one hand over an unconscious Okubo's chest, and the other still in the sky, as if he froze. "Okubo Naoya, I must thank you. I have become stronger yet again, all thanks to you." thus, the man that now reverted to his old, stoic self, got up and looked at the referee. "Hattori. You should have stopped the match. Take him away." Kisara watched the man walk away towards their exit, wiping the blood from his mouth with his hand, and slipping his hair backwards, as if he was some diva model for Victoria's Secret... Or whatever the man version of that was. Everyone was cheering for The Undefeatable Fang, and as soon as he stepped inside, though Kisara wanted to congratulate him, Wakatsuki was faster than her.

The animosity was rather one sided, though the tension was thick and painful. "Kano." the Tiger called out his name in a grave tone. "Wakatsuki. It's been a long time. We've watched your match against Murobuchi Gozo. You've improved yet again." Agito spoke, the corners of his mouth going upwards into what seemed to be the confident and almost taunting ghost of a smirk. "Oh, that was nothing. I haven't even revealed my trump card yet." the ever so humble and modest Wakatsuki was so tense that he even went as far as to overpraise his own skills. "So, will you be the one to win your way through the left block? It appears that there are at least two fighters that outclass you." ...two? What was he talking about? Surely, that was a joke... And Kisara was almost sure that he wasn't referring to Ohma. Maybe it was Raian's Kure reputation? Other than that, she had no idea who else could be so overwhelming to Takeshi. "Do you really have the luxury of worrying about others? You'd better watch your own step." the usually gentle and sweet feline was nor baring his sabertooth fangs at his enemy. "Well, you two, I really enjoy your rivalry and I do hope to one day watch you two fight. It would be the most legendary fight out there." Kisara chuckled all of a sudden, unable to keep herself silent. "... You are everywhere, aren't you?" Agito's gaze was cast down towards the red head whom he remembered from a few minutes prior. "I try to be. I figured it's much more enjoyable watching matches from down here... And although Wakatsuki's fight was boring, because of his subpar opponent... You shined out there. You showed your live or die fighter side, even against an enemy that barely pushed you. I want to see what the famous Fang of Metsudo is REALLY capable of doing, against this Wild Tiger who didn't get the chance to bare his fangs yet. That won't be the same as the first match you two had, not even close. It would be the sweetest fight you will ever have in your life." she spoke with such a confident, vain smirk that she might as well be Takeshi's own salesperson, there to sell off tickets for the most Epic Fight of the Millennia. "I don't understand you. Whose side are you on?" he asked, making the girl grin even wider. "No one's! I just want to see fantastic fights, that's all! And who better to see fight, than someone like you and Takeshi? I don't know yet what the others are capable of, but this is the only truth. Oh, before I forget... Here. You still have some blood on your face." she handed him a towel that he skeptically took and wiped his face with it. "Thank you. If that fight should happen, I will be eager to see whether or not the little tiger cub finally got a fang." his taunts were fantastic. "Agito, I can assure you, Takeshi definitely has the fangs of a Sabertooth Tiger, so don't make the mistake of underestimating him... For your own good." she chuckled lightly, seeing as he let out a huff of mock amusement. "So that's where you've been the whole day. Should have known - You always enjoyed these kinds of little nice parties." that voice... Was that Ohma? Shocked, she turned around and stared with wide eyes at the confident brunet that was pointing towards himself, and he was wearing the same overconfident, cocky grin on his face. He was determined to achieve the proposition he was speaking. "Heh. Thought you'd have a better eye than that, you greased-up asshole - Cause the champion of the left block... Is gonna be ME." shit, don't provoke him like that. "Ohma... There is a time and place for a well-intended taunting, but THIS is not it." concerned, she sneered through her teeth, but Tokita tsked in annoyance at her. "I don't need your concerns, Hasashi Kisara, didn't I already tell you that?" he growled at her. "Ah, I see, so you are affiliated to the Hasashi Network." Agito nodded in acknowledgement. "Please don't associate me with those jerks, I have nothing to do with them." Kisara spoke, looking up at the Fang with a soft glare. "Either way, if you want to fight, win your blocks and fight then. This is childish." she huffed, holding her arms over her chest. "OHMA! KANO'S JUST FINISHED HIS MATCH! DON'T PROVOKE HIM NOW!" Kaede's loud voice called out to warn Ohma, but was quickly silenced by the solemn warning of the Chairman's fighter. "Aren't you... Miss Akiyama of the Nogi Group? We don't need your concern. Because HE cannot so much as scratch us." Agito easily agitated the brunet. "That's... My concern exactly. Ohma, don't be reckless and fall for the taunts and provoking. If you want to fight Kano Agito, than win your left block, and you'll get the chance." she warned him once more, but judging from the sneer and the curse, her worries fell on deaf ears, as always. "Tokita Ohma. You are weak. That Kure is strong. No matter how you struggle against him, you do not stand a chance. And Wakatsuki here is leagues above you. Quite frankly, winning the left block would be impossible for you. Miss Kisara is warning you so she could spare your life. Better heed her caution." the Fang easily provoked Ohma, who was now in a fighting stance, ready to fight. Kaede was the only one who tried to talk him out of it, but was silenced by a signal from him. "Talk is cheap, greased-up asshole. How about I prove that I'm stronger than you, right here, right now?" he was quick with the baseless threats. "Damn it, Ohma, you'll get yourself killed!" Kisara's voice rose up an octave, knowing that Agito, as he was after that fight, could easily strike in the blink of an eye.

And so he did. Kano Agito kicked Ohma's 80 something kilograms body that was sent flying backwards down the corridor with such supreme ease that it completely humiliated him. "Utterly miserable. You should have heeded your friend's warning. We will say it once more. You are weak." though Ohma was struggling to get up, and tried to spring up once again, Katahara's two private bodyguards sneaked up from behind and got him into a chokehold to neutralise him. "Please don't be too rough on him!" Kisara ran to them, catching the man with great difficulty, as they released his unconscious self. "Thank you!" "Any fights outside of the matches are forbidden. You'd better control yourself, Kano." the one wearing a mask warned the Fang. "Fights? We were just kicking a pebble out of our way. Isn't that right, Wakatsuki?" though Takeshi remained silent, eying the two bodyguards from the corner of his eyes, Kisara couldn't but chuckle awkwardly. "Yes, Agito is right, this was just a simple misunderstanding, we didn't want to cause any problems." thankfully, her comment, along with the previous fight, were forgotten, and the bodyguards explained that all the fighters must present themselves upstairs in the grandiose dining room, in a few hours. Thankfully, it was enough to carry Ohma back to their room, with some welcomed aid. He didn't need any real medical aid anymore, just to wake up in a comfortable bed... And a shit ton of food. But all in due time.

Kisara sat on the edge of the bed, wiping the drool that was escaping his mouth, and her heart sunk. He looked awful. He was beautiful, but all battered up, and now, more reckless than ever before, just to prove that he was strong. Strong? Bullshit. As he was now, he couldn't even hold a candle to Takeshi or Agito. He needed more fights, he needed to evolve, he needed experience, he needed... He needed time. A lot of time. He needed his heart to keep on going... But at this rate, it wouldn't.

"What the hell are you crying for again, you dumbass bookworm? I thought you stopped being such a crybaby years ago. Since you got here, you've done nothing but cry, that's annoying." she didn't even realise that he woke up, but his comments were as shitty as always. What a dork. She couldn't help but shake her head and let out a small exhale of amusement. "Stupid gym rat... You don't know your own limits. Don't you get it? You haven't got up there yet. Don't rush." her voice was barely audible, and that smile was forced as she wiped away the tears she didn't noticed she shed. "You can't beat them as you are now... Is that what you're saying?" this made her snap her head towards him, eyes wide, afraid that he would get angry with her again... But he wasn't. He seemed to have understood a lesson. "I won't get mad at you for thinking that. In fact, I understand now." her jaw could be picked from the ground now - She was so beyond bewildered that he had to get up in a sitting position and reach his hand out, closing her mouth. "You look stupid - You'll catch flies like that." "What do you mean...?" she asked, her eyebrows furrowed. "Are you agreeing with me... When I said... You can't defeat those strong guys yet?" "Yes. Don't get smug with me now. Listen. I saw Niko, just before I got kicked. And when I was on the ground, I saw him again. He told me the same thing as you. You can't defeat him... Towards that friend of yours. And you definitely can't defeat him either... Towards the other guy. Not now, not as I am now. That just means I have to train harder. I can't die now. I have to get stronger and stronger. Only then, will I be able to defeat anyone who stands in my way." he admitted to his faults, and was ready to get better. This made the girl throw her arms around his neck, getting him into a tight embrace. "About time you agree with me, for once. Thank goodness. I didn't want you to get reckless and desperate again, only to get K.O.'ed in one punch. That won't do. You're strong, and you can do it... But just like The Fang - You evolve by fighting. You get stronger and stronger with each enemy you face. You can do it, I know you can." she held him so dearly, that Ohma's heart would have shattered if he wasn't as strong as he is. "I'll still die. Whether or not I use the Advance, it's still a matter of time - " but his mouth got covered by her palm. "Shut the fuck up with that bullshit of yours." Ohma's eyes were wide with surprise - Kisara, swearing like that? She didn't swear - She designated that area towards him. "I don't want to hear another word of you dying. I don't care. I refuse to hear it again. Even if I have to pretend that none of that will happen, I will, until the very end... S-So... YOU WON'T FUCKING DIE. I WON'T LET YOU FUCKING DIE. DO YOU GET IT, TOKITA OHMA?! I DON'T GIVE A FUCK ABOUT ANY OF YOUR DREAMS, OR THAT STUPID HEART THAT YOU'RE OVEREXERTING, NOR THAT YOU'RE TOO DUMB TO UNDERSTAND LONG WORDS OR EVEN MY FEELINGS FOR YOU - I DON'T GIVE A FUCK ABOUT ANY OF THAT, DO YOU HEAR ME, DUMBASS SEA-WEED HAIR?! I WON'T LET YOU DIE - AND EVEN IF YOU DO, I WON'T ACCEPT IT! IF YOU DIE, THEN I DIE TO. WE'RE IN THIS TOGETHER, FROM THE TIME I SAVED YOU, UNTIL THE LAST BREATH YOU DRAW IN THIS WORLD, SO GET IT THROUGH THAT THICK SKULL OF YOURS ALREADY!" his hands found themselves cupping that beautiful face of hers, and he listened to the desperate, wavering words that she screamed at him - The same at back in the bathroom, but now they were much angrier and determined. What a little dumbass. A great doctor like her, choosing her fantasy dreams over reality. Hell, he wanted to contradict her again, or even tell her that it was worthless, waiting over a man that was doomed to die soon, possibly even before this whole tournament could end... But it was something about those glimmering eyes, filled with tears, or the way she cared for him so much, that stopped him from saying anything that would make her even more upset, just like before. He hated seeing her cry, and he already broke her heart so badly earlier that day that she completely avoided him the whole day... And who knew how much longer she would have kept her distance, were it not for that unexpected meeting.

It was unphantomable, how much a single person could... Love him. He always found it endearing, how she was so genuine and upfront with her emotions and her words, even at the very beginning. She was always so bold, despite how calm and collected she was... Even when she was fooling around with that 'air-head' cheery facade of hers that she picked up from that annoying jackass that took his place as a fighter. At core, she was still the same Kisara that saved him from bleeding out in the alley... The same Kisara that couldn't look him in the eye even now, the same Kisara that was afraid of sleeping alone in the house, the same Kisara who had trouble going anywhere by herself in fear of being awkward, the same Kisara who was scared to order a coffee from the barista, the same Kisara who was always so patient with his dumbass and taught him so many things, even though he claims he couldn't remember shit... It was the same Kisara who showed him how great 'self-care' felt, and how 'healing' embraces were, and that he didn't have to stray away from love, just because Niko taught him to just hit on any pretty girl, and he was completely appalled by that. It was all her - Only her, who showed him, who taught him, who guided him, who loved him - So patiently, so dearly, so eagerly, so intensely, so beautifully.

It was her. It is her. And it will always be her.

Ohma pulled the gorgeous red haired woman into a sweet kiss, as loving and gentle as she always kissed him when he had a bad day, and he caressed her cheek with the back of his fingers, before reaching out to her hand, intertwining their fingers together and kissing the inside of her wrist, putting her delicate palm over his face and leaning into it. "Whatever you want, Hasashi Kisara. Whatever you want." he gave her that confident smile of his, but it was the old one, the cocky, endearing, super sexy smirk that he had during his fights with Rihito and the Medicine Man... Not the reckless one from when he challenged Agito. It was the old Ohma. "Ohma. I want you to teach me the Adamantine Kata. And any other moves that you think I could use." swallowing the lump in her throat that formed from crying, her fawn eyes seemed to regain some strength in them. "Huh? Adamantine? That's not something you can do - Even I can't do that. Why the hell would you want to do that?" his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Because I can't take hits." she explained simply. "My Aikido is solely based on deflecting big enemies and attacking here and there, but if I get hit, I'm done for. There's only so much shock dispersing I can do, before that's it. I'm not a punching bag. But after so many fights out there, I realised... I still have some stuff to learn, to make sure I'm safe, if anything happens. It's easy to evade and escape, and even in a small fight, maybe, considering you taught me the basics of how to divert the flow of a fight... But I need more of these deceiving techniques, and I need an alternative too. You never know, do you?" she explained plainly, and Ohma realised, she now resembled an enigmatic vixen more than anything. "Ha. Hear her. Now you have so little faith in me, that you don't need my protecting anymore. Very well, Your Majesty, I'll do just that. I wanted to go training anyway. But I'm hungry. We should go grab something." he muttered, yet before he got up, he slid his hand to the back of her head, and pulled her forwards, so that their foreheads touched. "Whether you like it or not though, as long as I'm around, Your Majesty is protected by me, got it?" there she went again, looking down, all embarrassed, when he said cute words like that - And her cheeks almost looked the same hue as her hair. She was absolutely beautiful. He upset her enough for a single day. At night, he was going to revert all that and make her happy. "Alright, Ohma. Protect me." her kitten smile was the cutest smile he's ever seen in his life. "It's great that you're hungry though. The Chairman asked for all the fighters to be present for the banquet. You can go train somewhere, and I'll go listen to what he has to say and grab some food, and after that, you teach me something new. How's that for a deal?" that smile turned into a wider grin as she grabbed his wrists and dragged him up. "Perfect deal. I never liked fancy parties anyway."

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#kengan ashura x reader #kengan ashura imagine #kengan ashura #tokita ohma x reader #tokita ohma imagine #tokita ohma #wakatsuki takeshi #gaolang wongsawat #kano agito #kaneda suekichi #okubo naoya #hanafusa hajime #hatsumi sen #akiyama kaede #saw paing yoroizuka

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