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thebestofoneshots · 5 months

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Gilded Constellations | (wolfstar x reader)

Series Masterlist | Previous episode

Pairing: Wolfstar x Reader Word Count: 12 K Warnings: Graphic descriptions of violence. (Reader discretion is advised). Prompt: It's game time. This IS a wolfstar x reader fic, but it's incredibly slow burn. They won't start all dating each other until we're very deep into the story, but I promise the long wait will be worth it. Proofread by sweethearts: @aremuslupinsimp & @profoundpidgeon

Chapter 30: Bridge Over Troubled Water

You stayed with the boys until Peter and James arrived, and since it was already past curfew, but mostly because he wanted to, he offered to take you to your room using James’ cloak. You were both already outside your door when he stopped you and pulled you in for a short kiss.

“Starshine, I might not see you tomorrow…”

“However will I survive?” you chimed in.

He rolled his eyes, a very small smile playing on his lips before he focused again “That’s not– tomorrow’s the game–”

“Yeah, I’m very aware.”

“And I won’t be there.” You nodded, holding your tongue instead of interrupting him again, “You will be the seeker.”

“Sirius, What’s your–”

“Just promise you won’t do anything stupid.”

You gave him a look, and then smiled, reciting a line from a comic you’d read with him a couple of weeks ago “How could I? You’re taking all the stupid with you.”

He deadpanned, “I’m serious.” Again, you had to hold your tongue before saying something that would probably frazzle him a bit more, “Take care of yourself, you’re more important to me than winning the game.”

You smiled at that. It was a game against Slytherin. You’d be seeking against Regulus. Those words meant a lot more than they let on. You looked at him, and nodded “I won’t do anything stupid.”

“No using yourself as a shield for a bludger?”

“Nope,” you confirmed with a nod.

“Stay the hell away from Crouch.”

“You don’t even have to tell me for me to do that.”

“And don’t trust Minho, I know you’re friends but he’s as quidditch crazy as James, he won’t go easy on you just because you’re friends.”

“It’d be a boring game if he did,” you said with a pout. Sirius shook his head in disbelief before pulling you into a hug.

“Not gonna lie, I’m kind of glad you’re playing seeker instead of guardian, with your shoulder and everything…”

“Shoulder’s fine,” you said with a shrug, leaning onto him. He was squeezing you tightly, and you rather enjoyed it. “But I’ll get hurt more often if you keep coddling me so much.”

“How about you don’t get hurt ever again and I promise to continue coddling you regardless?” He hummed into your hair, his tone laced with humour.

“I suppose we could reach to an agreement,” you replied with a smile, as you took in the scent of his soft shirt, and then pulled back to look at him, “Don’t pick up fights with Evan while you’re in detention with Slughorn,” you added in a warning tone.

He gave you a look as if to say that it was impossible but you reached up and placed your hand near the bottom of his lip, where a small cut was healing, he winced as you brushed your hand over it “I thought as much,” you told him earnestly as you let your hand fall to the side of his cheek, Godric, he’s so unfairly pretty, you thought.

He stared back at you, and you must have stayed like that for a while, if anyone saw you, they’d assume you were two idiots in love, which was pretty accurate in and of itself, thankfully the cloak was still covering the two of you, letting you bask in each other’s gazes without anyone bursting your bubble, until Sirius did, remembering it was late. “All right, off you go, you have to wake up early tomorrow, eat a full meal and get ready for the game.”

“Sure thing Prongs,” you teased, you would have said mom, but being honest, James was a lot more concerned about the games and your eating habits than either of your moms ever were, especially Walburga, at least your mom tried, even if you didn’t agree with the choices she had made in order to please your father.

He huffed a laugh, “I’ll tell Rem to watch over you.”

“I don’t need a nanny.”

“He’ll watch over you anyway,” he added, which was true in two ways, one: he’d tell Remus regardless of your objections, and two: he was pretty sure Remus would watch over you even if he didn’t directly ask him to do it.

You hummed in response and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek before sliding into your room. Lily was awake for some reason, she had a book in her hands and was using the light of her wand to read. You narrowed your eyes at her and decided to go straight into her bed, sitting beside her.

“Where were you all day today?” She asked in a whisper, you took your wand out of the pyjama pants the boys had given you and cast a silencing spell over the two of you. “The school was chaos, Nox and Comet came over looking for you at lunch, we had to tell them we hadn’t seen you since breakfast. And then it was my date with James, I wanted to ask you if I looked nice but nobody knew where you were, it was like you vanished.”

“You always look nice,” you said, addressing one of their first statements. “James is head over heels for you–”

She frowned, looking over your body. “Hold up! What are you wearing?” she asked, placing her hand on the flannel pants you had on, pants she was sure she had seen either on Sirius or Remus (perhaps both), and then turned to the shirt, a little too big for you. A shirt she definitely had seen on Sirius. You didn’t change back into your uniform since you weren’t expecting anyone to be awake. “Isn’t this Sirius’… Oh my God! You were with Sirius,” she said with a gasp, covering her own mouth since she had been much louder this time around, “How was it?”

“Ah that… It’s not what you think!” You managed to mumble, “I was working on my project with Rem and then I accidentally spilt coffee all over myself, he borrowed this,” you explained, making it all up on the spot, feeling rather satisfied at how convincing you’d sounded. “Sirius came over later and we all just chilled together for a bit, Remus was reading to us and I just kinda lost track of time.”

She quirked an eyebrow as if analysing what you’d said, Lily was clever, that’s why you had added a truth after the lie, perhaps that way she wouldn’t suspect too much "Does that mean you haven’t…?"

You shook your head. "We’ve… kissed a lot, but no." You then turned to her, narrowing your eyes. "Lily Evans, what makes you so curious?"

She turned red, pulling a strand of shiny red hair behind her ear. "I kissed James today."

You looked at her shocked, James had told you and the boys that the date had gone well, he hadn’t elaborated further. It should have probably made you wonder why he rushed into his bathroom, but you were way too comfortable laying in between Sirius and Remus as he read an action-packed scene that you didn’t pay too much attention to it. In fact, you weren’t sure you’d be able to pay attention to much anything other than Remus’ calming voice, let alone with Sirius, who had at some point taken a hold of your hand and fidgeted with your fingers as the other boy narrated.

"You know you have to tell me everything about it, don’t you?"

She nodded. "That’s why I stayed awake."

And she told you everything, from how James had picked a few wildflowers, which you recognised as Remus’ idea, to how he’d taken her on a walk near the lakes. How he’d somehow gotten his hands on the muggle coffee candies she adores so much -which you knew had been thanks to Sirius’ cousin Andromeda- and he’d placed them on a small picnic basket filled with her favourite food from the great hall (those had been courtesy of Pebblier and Nimbletwist, you had been the one to ask them for it), how he’d taken some paints and parchment and proposed to paint each other. That had been his own idea, at least the making portraits of each other part.

She took out her journal and pulled out the parchment, she had neatly added it to one of the pages with tape. James might be good at a lot of things, but he wasn’t a Michelangelo, perhaps a Picasso? You could certainly say Lily’s portrait was an abstract piece. But she seemed absolutely delighted by it. And her happiness was contagious.

At some point, you had both laid on their bed as he continued telling you all the things they’d done. How he’d behaved like a total gentleman, but kept his very distinctive James Potter charm. She wondered how she had been so blind and not seen that side of him before. You’d been tempted to tell her she was a goner, but held your tongue. You told her a bit about the book you’d been reading with the boys, and she told you that she heard about it. That there was a movie, or maybe they were still making it, she wasn’t too sure. Hogwarts was incredible at many things, but it wasn’t very good at helping students keep up with muggle news. In between laughter, secrets and teasing, the two of you fell asleep beside each other.

Sunday, November 28th, 1976

"Darling, you need to wake up," you heard as you felt a hand on your shoulder. The pain woke you up, rather than her voice, and you groaned, thankfully Marlene thought it was because you were still sleeping. "Teddy wants us in the pitch earlier since he wants to revise the strategy."

You gave her a look, still rather sleepy but nodded, getting up from Lily’s bed, she was still sleeping soundly on the side, and stirred only a little as you stood up, if Marlene noticed anything related to the pyjama you had on, she said nothing. You went straight to change, freshening up a bit by throwing some water straight at your face.

You checked your wound, it looked a lot better, the pain was still there, but it seemed like it was already closing. You threw in some healing spray Remus had given you the night of the prank and wrapped it again. You brushed your teeth, and after you were done, you threw some more water at your face. You felt a lot more awake now, but you were sure breakfast would finish waking you up completely. While it might have not been the best idea to stay awake talking to Lily, you still thought it had been worth it.

You gave a look at your reflection in the small bathroom mirror. "Let’s do this," you told yourself with a smile and stepped out, Marlene was waiting for you outside, she was lacing up her boots."Breakfast?"

She nodded in response, and the two of you walked over to the door. "Should we wake her?" she asked.

You shook your head "She stayed up quite late-"

"Talking to you," she interrupted.

You shrugged. "Yeah, but she didn’t have a game tomorrow," you told her, nodding to the fact that you had been irresponsible, but were okay with it either way. "She’ll wake up before the game, she set an alarm. We should let her rest."

Marlene hummed. "Her date must have been pretty exhausting," she told you with a cheeky smile, you laughed. "Though I still wonder how he managed to convince McGonagall to let him off punishment to go on the date."

You raised your eyebrows "Well… I suppose James can be very convincing."

"He probably cried to McGonagall," she said with a laugh. "Wouldn’t blame him, I’m not sure if Lily would have given him another chance."

"We would have convinced her."

"If only to get James off our backs," Marlene said with a laugh, by then you were already close to the entrance of the great hall.

James and Sirius –as expected– weren’t there when you crossed the huge doors. Teddy was amiably speaking with Tim and Lucas, who would be covering for your friends, while Gale and Anne sat a little bit further to the side. When Gale saw the two of you, he raised his hand and made a gesture for you to walk their way.

Both you and Marlene followed and sat in front of the two of them. You served yourself some apple juice as you all greeted each other. They were both already wearing their uniforms, just like you and Marlene were. The Slytherins also had their uniforms on, and they were all sitting close to each other. You realized the boy that would be covering for Evan was the same you had seen in Barty’s room, the Gaunt kid.

“How’re we feeling?” Gale asked, diverting your attention towards your table again.

You sucked in some air and smiled. “It’s always the excitement before a game, isn’t it?”

“Excitement?!? I’m shitting my pants from how nervous I am,” Gale said as he took a sip of some lavender tea Anne had given him to relax. “There’s no way in hell I’m as good as you as a keeper.”

You almost gasped at his words, you were absolutely shocked the overconfident Gale Thomas, the same boy who had taken your handkerchief away on the tryouts, who was so fast you hadn’t even noticed, would be reduced to a bundle of nerves by something like this, you tilted your head. “Gale you’re brilliant, you’ve always been brilliant!” you said. “Even on the tryouts, you were amazing as a keeper, I’m sure we stopped just as many–”

“You stopped around 5% more than I did, you had a block ratio of 95%,” he said, leg bouncing up and down as he took a bite from a toast.

You leaned down on the table to get his attention. “Gale?” you called, he threw you a look, worry still evident on his face. “They wanted you to be a keeper too,” you told him, pointing at Teddy with a nod. “And if they attempt to throw the ball 20 times, and you stop 19, we would still be many, many points ahead. Alison and Mina are great chasers, but I’m sure you’ll be on par, after all, you defended against Teddy, James, Anne and me on the tryouts.”

Anne nodded. “Say it louder so it gets through his thick head,” she said, a little louder and sounding just a little annoyed. He’s been going over since we came downstairs.

“You really think I’ll be on par?” he asked, looking absolutely hopeful. You smiled, sometimes you forgot how much younger than the rest of the team Gale was.

“I’m sure you’ll outperform them,” you added with a smile and a pat on the shoulder.

“What about you, how long has it been since you played seeker?”

You took a deep breath, pondering on the question, it had definitely been a while, but you had played mini-matches with James several times, just trying to catch the snitch in morning flights. You still had the touch, or at least the two of you were much better than Sirius, who had only managed to catch the snitch like 7 times of the hundreds you had played. And one of them had been because he’d distracted you by blowing you a kiss.

“Officially? Probably in March or something, but I’ve been practising with James on our morning flights.”

“You’re not nervous?” Anne asked as he threw a chip in her mouth.

You bit your lip. “I’m excited,” you responded honestly. “Although, the fact that I’m seeking against Pads’ brother and he won the race does make me feel rather queasy,” you added, deciding to avoid the rest of the drama that he’d caused a few years back.

“I still don’t get why you keep calling him weird names,” Anne said with a shrug.

“Regulus?”

“No, your boyfriend, first it was Puppy, then Pads, as the boys call him. What’s wrong with just… Sirius?”

“Oh, have you heard what they call her?” Marlene intervened. “There’s Starshine, Little Witch, Trouble, Kit–”

“Vix!” Remus said, cutting Marlene off and giving the perfect example.

“Hey Moons,” you said with a smile as you leaned closer to Marlene so he could sit.

“Vix?” Anne asked Marlene in a rather hushed tone.

“Stands for Vixen.”

“And she just lets them call her that?”

“It’s because she’s as sly as a fox,” Remus intervened.

“And it’s still better than Wormtail,” you said, just to get a reaction from Peter who was taking a seat across from you and Rem.

“Oi! Stop it, Wormtail is a perfectly fine nickname thank you very much.”

“If she’s Vixen because she’s a sly fox and Peter is Wormtail because he’s as quiet as a mouse–” Anne started.

You snorted. “When has Peter ever been quiet as a mouse?!”

Yes, it was true Peter wasn’t nearly as loud as James or Sirius, and it made it especially evident since he was always hanging around the two boys but Peter was far from “quiet as a mouse”, if anything, Remus was quieter, and that was only half true, because once you got him talking about a book, he could go on and on with it, just like James could talk about Quidditch for hours.

“And why is he Wormtail then?” Anne asked.

“He looks like a rat,” Remus responded simply, which would have sounded mean if he didn’t have a complicit smile as he stared at Peter.

“Quit it with your word games you two!” Peter warned in a rather stern tone, and yet, there was a certain shimmer behind his eyes, as if he knew more than he let on. It was all in the secrecy, really, on being part of the brotherhood that actually knew what was happening behind the nicknames. The shared secret allowed you to do and say things that people didn’t quite understand, even if you sometimes had to play offended. You enjoyed being able to be part of it, part of them.

“And Remus is Moony, isn’t it?” Anne asked, “Why’s that?”

“Because he’s insane,” you and Peter responded at about the same time, before bursting out into a laugh, Remus pulled your hair lightly in response and you turned to him with your tongue out.

“If you keep it up, little witch, I’m not gonna give you this,” he said as he pulled his hand up for you to see, his sleeve fell back a little and you could see what he meant, Sirius’ lucky hair tie.

“You wouldn’t go against Pads’ wishes,” you told him as you grabbed his hands and started to tug at the hair tie, but he dragged his hand away, leaving you with a pout.

“You sure about that luv?” He asked, eyebrows quirked.

“Confident,” you said, attempting to drag his hands down, but it was pretty useless, his muscles wouldn’t even budge, freaking werewolf strength, you thought with a huff “Reeem!” you whined. You wondered for a moment what that strength would do as a beater in quidditch and almost shivered.

He just smiled and tilted his head “How about you ask for it nicely?”

You rolled your eyes. “Darling Moony,” you said, exaggerating. “Can I please have Puppy’s hair tie?”

He knew you were playing a part, he could also hear the sarcasm dripping from your voice, and yet… he rather enjoyed that all of your attention was on him. And Merlin the look that you were giving him, it felt almost as good as when Sirius climbed onto the side of his bed, grabbed his hand, and manhandled it until he managed to slide the hair tie in. It still smelled of Sirius’ hair long after he had left for detention. Remus tried not to smell it, he didn’t want to be weird about it. But he couldn’t help himself.

Now he had you all over him, legs pressed against his and hands all over his arm as you attempted to pull it down, and he adored it. Even if he knew he shouldn’t, even if he knew you were Sirius’, he loved having your undivided attention. Your eyes on him, and no one else.

“Pretty please?” you added, and now you had that sneaky little puppy dog face you gave him when you wanted something. The same face he could barely say no to when you weren’t pressed against him.

He sighed and lowered his arm, allowing you to take the tie from him, relishing on the way your hands brushed over his own. Your hands were much smaller than Sirius’, even if a little rougher from so much quidditch and not that much piano, but he liked them just as much as he liked the ones of the boy.

When you managed to slide it off, you pulled back a little to add it to your hair “Have you eaten?” Peter asked from the front. Suddenly you remembered it wasn’t only you and Remus in the room and felt awkward for half a second, but everyone seemed to find the interaction the most normal, especially Peter and Marlene who hung around you and Remus often.

You looked down at your clean plate, you had been so focused on comforting Gale and then on Remus’ talk, or perhaps just on Remus, that you had forgotten to even serve yourself anything. You shook your head and filled your cup. “How much time do we have?” you asked Marlene.

“About 15 minutes,” she informed.

“That should be enough,” you said before taking a drink and grabbing onto a toast before spreading butter on it. Then some cream cheese and you were about to grab the marmalade when Remus spoke.

“Here,” he said as he passed over a plate with fruit to you.

“Thanks, Rem,” you said as you grabbed a few of the berries and placed them on top of your bread. You then started munching on some of the other fruits on the plate. You didn’t realise, with the rush, that the plate actually had only your favourite fruit. Remus had picked them up from the centre of the table as you prepared your toast.

You pretty much gobbled your food, like you had been doing all week, even if the absolute craving for meat had significantly diminished -especially when you were around Remus you noticed- the hunger seemed to prevail. All the types of hunger. Every time you saw Sirius you had the urge to kiss him over and over again like that time in the passageways. That type of hunger didn’t seem to subside when you were around Remus.

You stood up, Teddy, Tim and Lucas had already left, and Marlene was just finishing her eggs while Anne and Gale stood up. Remus was still eating, a lot more calmer as the four of you motioned to move.

“Little Witch!” he said, just before you started walking towards the door, he used his wand to levitate a blueberry muffin towards your face. “Take this for the way.”

“What about me,” Marlene asked.

“It was the last one, sorry.”

Marlene gasped playfully. “I swear, this is what you call preferences,” she said with a humph and turned her heel.

“I’ll save one for you next time,” Remus said with a simple shrug, and Marlene just gave him an incredulous stare before marching off behind Anne and Gale. You gave Remus a look and he shrugged again. “It was for you, she’s playing what she always does, you aren’t,” he added, did that make sense? he sure hoped it did.

“Thanks, Rem,” you told him with a smile. “I’ll see you in the game, yeah?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.”

“See you there too Pete,” you said with a wave, the boy nodded and hummed in response, too busy picking the onion bits out of the eggs. Peter didn’t like onion, and he always took his sweet time taking it out of his eggs, Sirius had given him a spell, but he said it wasn’t as good as using his hands and eyes.

You moved to follow behind Marlene and had almost gotten all the way out of the room when two Slytherins cornered you near the doors. You smiled.

“You did it, didn’t you?” Comet asked, a complicit smile on her face.

“Had to be you, Crouch has been on your back for months,” Nox added.

“And then there was the incident with Evan, Severus has always been an ass to you and Mulciber follows them along wherever they go,” Comet intervened.

You gulped, a small smirk on your lips. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“And you were in my room, jeez, how the hell didn’t I notice.”

“You must sleep pretty heavy,” you said with a shrug.

“Ha! She’s admitting it!”

“I can’t confirm nor deny anything…”

Nox looked dumbfounded while Comet laughed. “Thanks for the heads up,” she told you.

“What warning?” you asked with a complicit smile.

Nox breathed out, a smile playing on his lips again. “Should have heard his screams, he woke up drenched in sweat and crying like a baby,” he added, smile turning to smirk. You had never seen so much Slytherin-ness on him before. “Serves him well.”

You bit your cheek to avoid making your smile bigger. “Well guys, there’s a game I need to attend.”

“Good luck!” Comet said with a smile as you waved them goodbye and started walking away.

“We hope you lose,” added Nox casually, he actually liked Regulus, he’d always been a good roommate. Comet dug her elbow on his stomach, she didn’t care much for the Quidditch team, except for Minho, but she liked you better.

“I don’t, I hope you win!” she said with a smile “but invite me to the celebration party, I’d hate to miss it.”

You turned with a smile and a wink. “Of course, you’re always invited to the Gryffindor parties.”

You continued walking towards the pitch, you bumped into Nina, who hugged you and wished you a great game. She told you she’d be watching on the Gryffindor side with Sibyl, which made you smile.

After a few more minutes you were already on the pitch, everyone was there already, and Teddy was talking with Gale now, he turned to you and called your name, using his hand to prompt you to come.“James said you’ll be seeking.” You nodded, you knew. “But… and I know this might be a lot to ask, but could you keep an eye on Gale?”

“But he’s brilliant!” you argued, and then turned to him, standing on the side. “You’re brilliant Gale, I told you already.”

“He knows,” Teddy said, getting your attention again. “But he asked me to ask you to do it, just in case.”

You looked between the two boys and realised that more than anything, what Gale wanted was reassurance, so you smiled and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Of course, I’ve got you covered,” you bolstered him. “Just do your thing, be as fast as you always are but stay in the goals, all right?”

“Will you teach me how to do the backflip?” he asked.

You nodded, “How about I teach you during our next practice, in case you ever have to play keeper again?”

He nodded excitedly. “I want to be as good as you one day.”

“You’ll be even better,” you told him with a smile. And you truly believed he would, it was almost like a hunch.

“All right guys,” Teddy said, “10 laps, we need some warm-up.” You nodded and did as told, speeding through the pitch as fast as your broom allowed, then up and down, practising the break before reaching the ground.

Eventually, Teddy called everyone down, and you all started to gear up. You helped Gale with the many layers of protective gear he’d be wearing and then sat down near the bleachers to fasten your own gear. Most of the gear was similar to the stuff you wore normally. Although James had given you a pair of old gloves, that he said he’d used to win his first match. You tried not to think about the fact that your hands were so small that James’ had been the same size when he was 13, but then you remembered being James, and it actually made sense.

“Feeling ready?” you heard a soft voice from behind and saw Remus’ hands out of the corner of your eye, as he sat down on the grass beside you.

You hummed. “Yeah, I just need to finish with this,” you said as you pointed at the laces that you were passing through and around your shins.

Remus leaned on his palms as he looked up. “It might rain soon,” he informed.

“It’s a wonderful day!” You told him with a smirk, he gave you a side eye but smiled.

“Here,” he said, giving you a small, marble-sized transparent ball.

“A swamp bomb?” you asked curiously as you looked through the transparent-ish ball and looked at all the little murky water details inside.

“Throw it on the ground and you get an instant swamp,” he said with a smile. “Sirius and I trapped it on the marble a few years ago, we made one for each, they always carry them on rainy games.”

“For… luck?” you asked with a bit of a frown.

Remus quirked an eyebrow. “In case you slip off your broom,” he responded matter of factly, “use it and you’ll fall on water rather than on the grass, it’ll break your fall”

You gasped in shock, a surprised expression that turned into a smile the more you thought about it. “That’s insanely clever! It should be used as a failsafe for every quidditch player. I mean change the swamp for cleaner water and you have the perfect little artefact.”

Remus nodded in agreement, “Keep it in you, all right?”

You nodded. “You really did take the whole “taking care of me” thing seriously,” you said as you pocketed the marble.

“Take care of you?” he asked with a frown.

“Didn’t Sirius ask?” you asked a little confused.

He had.

Although, Remus had been too busy trying not to blush when he grabbed his hand to put the hair tie in. Did he? he wondered, perhaps he did, I wasn’t exactly listening. Remus cleared his throat, you noticed he did that quite often when he was around you, you wondered if maybe he was getting sick or something. “Yeah, I… yeah, but you’re my best friend so, still…”

You nudged him with your shoulder. “Don’t get all soft with me,” you joked. “You know I’ll be alright, don’t you?”

He propped his elbows on his knees and leaned his head on them, giving you an expression you could only describe as cute, even for Remus. “I know,” he reassured. “How’s the shoulder?” he asked, brushing his fingers on it lightly. Perhaps he was giving himself too many liberties around you these days, you didn’t seem to mind it.

“Better, it still hurts, but much better. Think James would have allowed me to play if he hadn’t gotten detention?”

He humphed. “You would have convinced him, you always do. Maybe it’s the fairy bIood?”

You shrugged, “Nah, mom was the last one in line with the ability to glamour.”

He smiled, “How about going against Reg?”

You swallowed thickly, you had told Remus about not using the hexbag on him. “It’s… It’s whatever.”

“You still resent him?”

“Am I petty?” you asked with a frown. “It’s… It’s not even about me and Sirius anymore, you know? It’s about the betrayal. I trusted him, Rem. I did, and Sirius warned me, he told me he was always doing what Walburga and Orion asked but I chose to trust Regulus. I thought I saw something in him, maybe a friend but… I guess I got my gut feeling wrong then.”

Remus nodded as he listened. “Did you ever talk to him about it?”

Yes, Remus, the voice of reason, of course, that’s what he would ask. You averted your gaze and shook your head, “He sent a letter once.”

“And?”

“I burned it down without even opening it.”

“You really have a knack for burning things that could be useful to you.”

You hit his shoulder lightly, knowing exactly what he was talking about, the werewolf book pages. “Either way, I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready to talk to him, things got really awkward when I blew him off during the race.”

Remus sighed, he really had to go and fall in love with two of the most headstrong and stubborn people in his life. He was about to say something when Teddy called for you. You turned to him, a smile plastered on your face as if the sad subject hadn’t been touched at all. “Enjoy the show then,” you said in the most enticing tone before standing up and pulling your broom up to your hands without even saying a word. Impressive, Remus thought, but then again, she’s always been impressive.

“The game is about to start,” Teddy informed, “Mckinnon, Lucas; Crouch will be all over Gale because he’s new, I want you to keep your eyes on him.”

“I… I think perhaps he might be all over (Y/N),” Marlene said. “He’s got beef with her.”

Yeah, Beef is certainly a way to call it, you thought. “Nah, Minho is friends with her, she won’t be in the danger zone too often.”

“I’m here,” you said, intervening with a raised hand, they were talking as if you weren’t. “And while I do think he’ll be trying to shoot the bludgers straight to my face, because that’s just who Barty is, I’ll stay close to Gale, no need to choose between the two, how does that sound?” you asked.

“Fine, but don’t stay in place if you see the snitch, go right behind it.”

“I was planning to.” You liked Teddy, you really did, but he wasn’t a great captain, James was.

“Davis, Tim, we’ll play offensive.” Teddy was still coordinating with the chasers when you heard a loud whistle sound from the referee.

You all walked towards the centre of the pitch, Teddy at the forefront, you and Gale to each side of him. The Slytherin team was right in front of you, Regulus was looking at you with a bit of a frown, his lips pursed, as if he wanted to say something but was holding his tongue.

You stared at him, and then at Barty who was glaring at you. You stood a little straighter, pulling your head back just a little and giving him the most unbothered and cocksure expression you could have mustered. It worked, his eyes narrowed and his glare thickened. Regulus, who had been watching the entire exchange, almost smiled proudly at your stance. You really were the same girl he had met years ago at the resort, perhaps even a little bolder now that you were older.

“Captains, greet each other,” the referee said –a Ravenclaw player who had been commissioned for the job. Dimitry and Teddy stepped ahead and shook hands.

You shot Minho a look as they stretched their hands and he winked at you. You knew he wasn’t going to make it easy for you just because you were friends, and you were thrilled to finally be able to play against him. You had heard stories, and you had seen him in practice games, he was good, professional player material even.

“Seekers,” the referee called, you turned to look at them, “your turn.”

You took a step forward and awkwardly shook Regulus’ hand. It was as soft as Sirius’, you still found it impressive how much they looked like each other and how different they were from the other, “I’m looking forward to playing against you.”

“I’m looking forward to beating you,” you said, a lot more bitterly than you originally intended for it to sound.

Regulus scoffed but smiled, that’s definitely something you would have said to him before the incident, although your tone would have for sure been different. The referee let the snitch out, and it circled Reg before circling around you and flying up into the air. You stared at the shiny orb until it disappeared in the air. Gale and Dimitry were already on the goals. There was another loud sound whistle, along with sparks and the game started.

You did as you promised, flew straight towards the goals and kept a decent distance between you and Gale, flying a little higher as you looked through every bit of the field to try and find the little golden ball. It hadn’t even been 10 minutes and the sky started to rumble. You looked up, and felt the first trickle of rain over your cheek. You smiled, things were about to get good. You had promised you’d stay near the goals, and you really did intend to do it. But then you saw something moving in the distance, barely a glimmer, a flicker of gold through the thick drops of rain. You turned to Regulus, he was looking towards the same spot you were. So you dived that way about at the same time he did.

You saw Anne Davis get a grip on the ball and dive straight towards Volkov’s goals, she missed the shot and he threw the ball back to one of their chasers but Tim intercepted and shot it back, managing to score some points for your team. The crowd erupted in cheers and even you joined in their cheers. Tim beamed from his spot, it was the first time he played an official game, and managing to score was a huge moment for him, although you never doubted his ability.

You and Regulus were almost side by side, flying towards the east side of the pitch, but the snitch seemed to have vanished again, he did a swift break a few metres from the ground but you continued down hoping to see the sneaky little ball somewhere, breaking just before you reached the grass, and rolling around the bottom on circles to diffuse the momentum of the fall. You looked up, Gale was being surrounded by the beaters of both teams, while Marlene and Lucas were trying to push the ball to the other side Minho and Barty were viciously dragging it back to Gale. You took a deep breath and flew as fast as possible towards them, not quite looking at Gale but pretending you had seen something. That would get them off him and to follow you instead.

“Don’t do anything stupid” you heard Sirius’ voice echo in your head. Well, it’s not stupid, you attempted to reason. It’s not like trying to stop a bludger with my own hands or stepping in front of one to defend Gale, definitely not like throwing your wand on the ground when facing a werewolf. This is teamwork.

You followed through with your plan and continued taking sharp turns, emulating the kind of turns the snitch would make you take and surely enough, in a matter of seconds, you had both Minho and Barty all over you, throwing the bludgers at your face as you skid and dodged them over and over. Thank Merlin you had decent reflexes.

Gale seemed to be a lot calmer now, and even if the reserve player, Solacis Gaunt, had scored 10 points earlier, he was visibly struggling to get past Gale’s defences. You smiled proudly at yourself as you continued to soar through the air, and dodged a few more throws from Crouch. Perhaps it was a bad idea to taunt him, but you couldn’t help yourself; when you steered clear of yet another shot from him, you turned around with a cocky smile and waved.

Crouch did not look happy. Minho was laughing in the background and Marlene, who was still close to Gale, watched the whole interaction with a bit of a frown. That was it, the stupid thing Sirius had told you not to do.

Even Remus, who didn’t have such a good view of the situation from the bleachers, noticed how you were haughtily making fun of Barty’s shot and stiffened in his seat. You could be so insolent sometimes, often failing to realise the consequences of what your actions could do to you. Like getting you thrown on the shrieking shack or almost eaten alive. Regardless, he had never seen anyone be so damn stunning while boasting. Actually, that was a lie, Sirius was equally beautiful when he did.

The game was tight, Regulus and you were darting almost side by side, he seemed a little confused at first because he couldn’t see the snitch you were so animatedly looking for, but then he noticed: your worrying looks at Gale, the little proud smile when he managed to stop a quaffle after Minho and Barty were off his back. She’s protecting him.

Regulus knew Gale, they were in the same year, and he knew he was a good guy, he was always studying and even if he was a little too loud and conceited for his own taste, he respected him. In fact, he was a little surprised he was so self-conscious about the game since his very confident persona would rarely waver into diffidence.

And then he saw the way you threw the boy a thumbs up and he realised: that could have been the kind of friendship that developed between the two of you. If he had done things differently, if he had perhaps… gone to the waterpark with you and Sirius. Maybe then you wouldn’t be so angry about the lies he’d told to keep you from harm. But he was also certain that what you wanted, for him to admit that it had been your idea, wouldn’t be something he would ever change, he wouldn’t have done anything to put you in danger.

From the very beginning, you had been kind and friendly to him, like you were to everyone you met, and even if you were clearly drawn to Sirius like a moth to a flame, you had never left him out. You’d even tried to convince him to come along, but he was too scared, he’d seen the way his parents punished Sirius. He didn’t want his mom to pull that kind of face, let alone those kinds of spells… Yeah, he might have been a bit of a coward, but everyone was safe in the end, and you were happy now, which in a way made him happy too.

He hadn’t seen the snitch either way, so he followed your game, darting behind as close to you as he could. He knew Minho would control his shots if he thought he could hit him, so in a way, he was protecting you and himself, since your team’s beater would be doing the same. Although –and he was indeed curious about this– they seemed to be sticking to Gale rather than following behind you and protecting you, or trying to tumble down the other players, like they should.

But then it happened, another glimmer like the one you had seen earlier, passed just over Dimitry Volkov. He swallowed, eyeing you, but you hadn’t seen it, no you were too busy trying to avoid Barty’s aggressive blows. Regulus darted straight towards Volkov, and you instantly knew he was probably following the snitch. So you went right behind him, managing to get shoulder-to-shoulder against each other.

BIoody hell, she’s fast.

He knew that too, but it had never been as evident as having you flying against him, and you didn’t even have your Dark Nimbus anymore. Eventually, you saw the snitch too, and picked up your speed. Both you and Regulus were on the verge of getting it, the sly little ball darting just away from your grasp as if it had a mind of its own.

It didn’t matter, both you and Regulus were as skilled as the other, which was something to say about the boy, since you had been doing this for a lot longer than he had. And even then, you found it a little hard to keep up with him in the sight department. Yes, you were faster, but the snitch often got lost in between the rain in your perspective, but Regulus seemed to always know where to go, never losing sight of it, which was getting on your nerves.

You lost sight of it again and whispered “fuck,” the bludger darted your way and you speed forward, it brushed over the sweeping side of your broom and made you lose balance but the grip you had on the handle was strong and you managed to straighten up before the other bludger sped your way.

You managed to move away from it this time, but not before sending Minho an incredulous look, he just shrugged with a small smile in response “I told you I wouldn’t make it easy for you darling!” You rolled your eyes but nodded, moving out of the way as Marlene shot the bludger back, straight towards Minho, who barely had enough time to react.

You chuckled at his incredulous reaction, as if he was genuinely shocked. Which made sense, last time he’d seen Marlene, she was still guarding Gale like a loyal dog. She threw you a look, a small nod as she let you know “I’m with you” without having to say a word. You looked at her with worry and turned to give Gale a look, once you made sure he was fine, you turned to her again with a smile.

Yes, Teddy had told her to stay by Gale’s side, but you truly needed to have 0 common sense to stay guarding someone who didn’t need protection and leave someone that was struggling with so many bludgers thrown their way by themselves. Besides, you were roommates, friends, she wasn’t gonna let you fall off that broom.

With Marlene on your side, you managed to let go of some of the extra apprehension you had been withholding to try and stay on your broom, she was countering the bludgers and you finally managed to focus on the snitch.

You tore through the air, faster than you had in the previous game, and faster than you had in the race, even without your broom, you’d somehow managed to pick up more speed, the wind whipping past with a biting force. You weren’t sure why it was happening, but you were benefiting from it so you didn’t think much about it.

You were shoulder to shoulder with Regulus again when your eyes landed on the snitch, it wasn’t far, you just needed to push through a little further. You could feel the sharp droplets of rain hitting against your face like icy needles from how fast you were moving, and the clouding in your glasses made it a little hard to see much of anything, but you were focused. Gaze fixed solely on the elusive glint of the snitch, tantalisingly close. You weren’t going to lose sight of it this time, not now that you were ahead of Reg.

As you neared the prize, almost forgetting your surroundings, you felt it, the yanking of your broom, the same yanking that had jolted you off it a few weeks past. Clenching your teeth, you tightened your grip and tried to push through, ignoring the feeling, you were so close. The snitch was within reach; your outstretched hands were on the verge of capturing it, ignoring the strain on your shoulder from how fiercely you were using your arm to grapple the broom, you fought to maintain control over it.

Regulus noticed “Barty!” He spat angrily. You didn’t hear any of it, the broom was pulling backwards, prompting a split-second decision. So you did the only logical thing you could and harnessed the momentum to leap towards the snitch just as the broom slipped from beneath you. Then, the fall began.

The whole crowd seemed to be holding their breath. Regulus, Marlene and Minho, who had been the closest all tried to fly towards you, to catch you before you hit the ground, not that you noticed.

You were rather high when you started to fall, and it almost felt like it was in slow motion, but you had already dragged your hand to the marble Remus had given you earlier when you felt the broom slipping from under your legs. You threw the marble to the ground and braced yourself for the rest of the fall. Trying to keep your eyes open as you wrapped your arms around your body and hoped to fall into the murky water.

In less than two seconds, you felt the freezing hit of the water all around you, lowering your temperature even more. Fortunately, the pocket swamp was deep enough, you didn’t even reach the bottom as you fell a few metres down the water. It took a minute to adjust, opening your eyes as you looked down, managing to see only darkness and some vines of seaweed. However, just as relief washed over you, and you started swimming upwards, you felt something grip onto your ankle. You looked down, panic cursing through your veins when you noticed the bony hand attempting to drag you down. What the fuck?

Above the water, the game seemed to be frozen, the players didn’t know if they should continue playing when two members of the Slytherin team and two of the Gryffindor were completely distracted by the accident.

“Minho, Regulus!” Dimitri shouted, “to your fucking positions.”

Teddy seemed to be about to do the same thing when Marlene threw him a warning look and he shot up, indicating the rest of the team to be on guard with his hands instead of speaking.

Minho turned to Dimitry, second-guessing himself, before turning back to the rippling water in front of him, you weren’t out yet. He shook his head and chose to stay, taking his wand and pointing it to the water “Hidroclearus!” The murky water responded to the spell, gradually clearing to reveal the unfolding scene beneath the surface.

Regulus didn’t even turn to look at Dimitri, he was fully focused on the water, worried.

Remus, who had seen you fall, had already crossed half the pitch with a panicked look on his face, followed by a terrified Lily, and a very concerned Mary. Your Slytherin and Ravenclaw friends were on the edge of their seats. Everyone except for Sibyl, that was trying to get Nina –who was crying hysterically–to calm down.

Someone was trying to stop Remus from going deeper into the field, so they wouldn’t interrupt the game further, but he pushed them off his way easily, Lily and Mary weren’t as lucky, and they were stopped by the game staff as Remus strode towards the swamp.

Under the thick water, your initial shock faded quickly, and you realised that whenever the boys had trapped the swamp in the marble, they had also trapped some kind of water creature. A water creature that was clearly pissed and very hungry after being carried around the boys’ pockets for so long. You pulled your wand out and cast a wordless reducto, getting it to snap his hand away, and started swimming upwards as fast as you could. By then, the water was clearer and Minho saw you, struggling to outswim the creature.

You threw a few other curses at the thing but it was relentless, it wasn’t thinking anymore, the creature had starved inside the marble for so long, the pain your spells caused was completely overshadowed by the rumbling of its stomach the moment it noticed: you were food.

Regardless, there was something you had that the monster didn’t, and that was raw stubbornness, you kept shooting jinxes and swimming however you could, and then you saw a hand, you had no idea who the owner was, but a stranger’s hand was still better than being eaten alive, you reached for it, the hand gripped around your wrist and hauled you up.

Seconds later you were finally above water, gasping for air and panting, you turned to the side, Minho, you realised. You looked back warily, pulling him by his robe as you stared at the water, and only relaxed when you were sure the thing was not about to follow.

Regardless you pulled your wand and whispered “glacius.” A thick layer of frost started to coat the lake and you finally exhaled. You pulled your head back, looking at the sky, the game was still going, but everyone was on edge. Regulus was looking at you in shock, but he seemed more angry than anything and Marlene rushed towards you before the lake froze completely.

She placed her hands around your face, “Are you… are you okay?”

You nodded, head a little squiffy as you tried to gain back focus, the surge of adrenaline finally draining and letting you feel the discomfort of the fall, and the one from your wound. Then you looked up again. “Why… why are they still playing?”

“Regulus stopped searching for the snitch the moment you fell,” she told you, Minho was still standing beside you, worry evident on his furrowed brows, he’d never seen you so fazed. Remus had, but that did not make his long strides slow down. He was also rather angry about the game continuing even after the entire thing had happened. Everyone should have stopped, everyone should be helping you.

He exchanged a look with Minho, the boy stared at Remus’s eyes for a second, seeing the worry and his concern, it reached deeper than his own, and he instantly knew. Yun Minho, the boy who had once kissed Remus, and knew the meaning behind his eyes from the amount of stolen glances they had shared at some point, was the first one to realise how irrevocably in love he was with you.

“That… that doesn’t matter.”

“I bIoody well agree but those are not the rules!” Marlene said, a little riled up but trying to control her anger.

“No,” you said slowly. “I mean, the game is over.”

Marlene frowned, and then Regulus noticed, in one of your hands, the one you had kept glued to your body the entire time, knuckles white from your hard grip, there was something, a small, unfolding wing, and he looked at you, absolutely stunned.

Still looking at Marlene you gave her a lazy smile, tilted your head and pulled your hand up, slowly unwrapping it until you were holding the snitch in between your index finger and thumb. Marlene’s jaw dropped while Minho looked at you impressed and patted you on the back.

You didn’t wince, but turned to him with a smile. “That was quite a game,” he said.

You nodded, letting a soft laugh out, raising your hand higher, so people would notice. The commentator, who had been struggling on whether to keep up with what was happening in the air or what was happening with you, gasped. “She has the snitch!” he said pointing at you, more surprised than anything before clearing his throat and announcing it properly, “That’s 150 points for Gryffindor! The final score is 200 against 60.”

You raised your eyebrows, Gryffindor had been losing by one shot. You could see your teammates start to fly down but were distracted by a bone-crushing hug, you hadn’t seen him coming, but you knew it was Remus instantly, his smell was unmistakable.

You smiled at his hug, you knew you were soaking him with murky, smelly water, but he didn’t seem to care, he was just glad you were all right, you almost snuggled your head on his chest, basking on his warmth, warmth that he had somehow kept despite the cold rain still falling over everyone.

“Rem?” you managed to mumble, he hummed in response, his head was on your shoulder, his eyes shut tightly as a tear of relief soaked your robe, you were fat too wet to notice. “You’re… you’re crushing me a little.”

His head snapped from its place and he looked at you with worry as he pulled back, his hands still on your arms. Now looking all over you, trying to make sure you weren’t hurt, that he hadn’t hurt you either.

You noticed instantly, the panic in his beautiful brown eyes. “It was just a little,” you reassured. “I’m fine,” you added. “Thanks to you, actually.”

Professor Pendragon had rushed towards you and stared at the lake, Nightshade was trailing behind, Remus stepped aside, but kept his hand on your back as the dark-haired teacher leaned closer to inspect you. “There’s a water spirit under the swamp,” you informed, “It’s hungry.”

She raised her eyebrows at you, impressed at your quick thinking. “That’s why you frosted it.”

“Didn’t want it to come up after me.”

“You had to fight it, presumably.”

You nodded, “It wasn’t that hard.”

Remus narrowed his eyes, it was as if you and Seraphina were saying a lot more words to each other than the ones he was actually listening to, it was in the intense gaze you shared, you seemed uncomfortable, almost on edge, but she seemed… pleased.

Professor Pendragon intervened a little later, he called you by your last name “You must be taken to the infirmary.” You threw a worried look at Remus, he had also wanted to take you there, but he bIoody well knew he couldn’t.

“I’m fine, it won’t be necessary,” you said with a smile. Nightshade tilted her head backwards, she knew why you had declined, you were clever, you knew people couldn’t see the probably still rather fresh would your werewolf friend had caused you. “I’ll just… go dry up and I’ll be good as new, the water broke most of the fall,” you added, reassuringly.

Cunning, Nightshade realised, she would have also been fooled, if she hadn’t known better. But she did, and she knew how much that fall must have stung.

Lily and Mary had somehow managed to get across now that the game was over and they were fast approaching but Gale beat them to it, and he also pulled you into a hug “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” he repeated like a mantra. You frowned at him and allowed him to pull back of his own accord. “If it hadn’t been for me and my-”

You shook your head. “Nothing was your fault, Gale. I’m fine, we won! You did incredible today too.”

He still seemed a little uneasy but nodded. “Yeah Thomas, it wasn’t your fault, if anything, it was Teddy who told me and Lucas to stay by your side,” Marlene said, throwing the chaser an angry side eye. He recoiled, he’d been staying a little further from the reunion. Lily and Marlene came over next, squeezing you in between the two of them before Peter did the same.

The rest of your friends also came down to tell you how happy they were that you were fine, Nina had pulled you into a hug almost as tight as Remus’ and didn’t let go of you for a few minutes while Sybil attempted to pull her off a few times. After a few more hugs, everyone seemed to be ready to start the Gryffindor celebration party. You had whispered Comet the passwords when she came to make sure you were all right, and she smiled, telling you she’d bring Nox along, even if he wanted you to lose initially.

After you and most of your friends started to walk towards the Common Room you felt a rather sharp pain in your arm. You winced but swallowed a whimper, you didn’t want to worry any of your friends, especially Lily and Remus, who looked somewhat at ease now.

“I’m gonna go to the bathroom,” you announced.

Lily frowned, “I’ll come along…”

You shook your head. “No need. It’ll be quick, I’ll see you in the common room. Could you help me find something cosy to change into?”

She gave you a scrutinising look but nodded. Stepping ahead, but as you diverted, you felt an arm stopping you. “Where do you think you’re going, young lady?” he joked.

You turned to Remus with a diverted smile. “To the Toilets. Care to accompany me?” you said the last bit with sarcasm.

Remus chuckled. “What if I do?” he said then, in a rather teasing tone. “With the magnet you have for trouble I wouldn’t be surprised if you bumped into a troll or something.”

“A troll? In the girl’s lavatories?! Don’t be ridiculous, Rem! Go on and spare some fire whiskey from me, why don’t you?”

He wasn’t too sure about letting you go on your own, but he also knew how you were feeling, you had been literally surrounded by people from the moment you’d stepped out of the murky lake, and while it was nice to get hugged and all after getting hurt, sometimes all you needed was time to process what was had happened, he would know, he certainly did sometimes.

Perhaps, like he had many times, you just wanted a few minutes for peace and quiet. And although it took him a few seconds, he reluctantly let go of his grip on your arm and allowed you to go. “How much?” he asked with a smile.

“At least a flask,” you responded, he arched an eyebrow at you. “Come on, I’ve had quite a week, I deserve it, don’t I?”

He chuckled and nodded. “I’ll save two then.”

You smiled widely “That’s why I love you, Moony!” You had used a rather playful tone when you said it but that didn’t stop the knot that formed on the boy’s stomach, “See you in a bit, yeah?”

The boy nodded and you turned towards the toilets, speeding through to check on the wound. You removed your robe and sweater and used a spell to wipe them off the murky water as you checked the wound. Quickly washing it over the sink as you saw the splotches of cherry red slide down, contrasting against the porcelain white sink.

You rolled your eyes, the fucking wound was getting more annoying and inconvenient than painful at this point. Regardless, you dried it out, threw some of the painful ointment you had kept in your pocket with a spell for it to remain fresh in case of an emergency and wrapped it again, wiping the tears that fell from your eyes from the sharp sting of the dreadful but effective medicine you had somehow crafted.

You took a deep breath and moved towards the outside, you were just rounding the corner when you heard two voices, two very recognizable voices.

“You fucking asshole,” Regulus said, anger dripping from his tone.

“Off me, Black!” Barty countered. You leaned your head over, Regulus had him pushed against the wall as Barty fumed and tried to squirm his way out. Regulus was taller, but Barty had always been more vicious, and you knew how strong he was, after all, he had been the one to haul you to the shack on Monday.

“You do that again and you’re dеad meat,” Regulus seethed in between gritted teeth. “You got what you wanted, now back the fuck off!”

“Why are you even trying to… You didn’t have the nightmares I had! You SAW Evan, in the fucking infirmary!” Barty seemed to feel actual grief over that last bit.

“You both had that one coming, you think I’m blind? You’ve had it against them since the quaffle incident.”

“Well, she had it coming too!” The boy against the wall complained. It’s about me, you realised. And it almost pissed you off that Regulus would even try to defend you, who the hell does he think he is?!

You turned around to leave when you heard Regulus mutter a jinx and heard a howl from Crouch, you leaned over the wall again, to try and see what had happened, but Barty spotted you.

“Bitch’s here,” he said as he nodded your way, his jaw slightly slack.

“Yeah and this is none of my business,” you said, skipping past the two boys, not sparing a second glance at Barty, who was on the floor clutching his stomach.

“Hey!” you heard Regulus’ distressed voice “Wait up.”

Barty huffed at his reaction, rolling his eyes as Regulus trailed behind you like a lost puppy. Fucking Blacks’ obsession with that fucking girl, he thought as he stood up and limped to the other side.

“I said wait up!” Regulus said, grabbing your forearm. You yanked it away from him, with a vicious frown.

“Regulus, don’t fucking touch me,” you said in a warning tone, he seemed to recoil but stood his ground.

“Let me explain,” he said, running past you and blocking your path, the anguished look on his face reminded you so much of Sirius you almost folded “I–”

“No need to explain,” you dismissed while shaking your head. “Whatever you do with your life is your fucking business. And no need to worry about it, I don’t like talking behind people's backs like others. I’m no snitch, and I’m not gonna go running my mouth either.”

He seemed taken aback by that, blinking a few times as he processed the information. “You…” he stammered, “you never read my letter.”

You scoffed. “Of course I didn’t fucking read your letter Regulus, there was nothing you could have said to take back what you’d done. Sirius and I didn’t talk to each other for fucking years after that, I thought he hated me!” You were angry, bottled-up emotions spilling out of you like boiling water in a small pot. He was quiet, staring at you like he didn’t know what to say “Fucking thought so,” you whispered and skipped past him.

He had thought of so many things to say to you over the years. He was sure you hated him because he hadn’t let out the fact that it had been your idea, not for telling his parents about the escapade, and of all the times he had run this conversation in his head, none of them had included that fact. He felt like short-circuiting, and you were about to turn the corner when he managed to say something. “It wasn’t me!” You continued your way. “I didn’t tell them, I wasn’t the snitch!”

You froze in place, what? that… it doesn’t make sense.

Regulus took a deep breath, grateful you were listening, finally listening. “Someone sent an owl to my dad, they said they’d seen you in town.”

You turned to look at him, your eyes analysing him, his words, his red-rimmed eyes and the absolute raw emotion visible on his face, nothing like the stoic Regulus you were accustomed to.

“He asked me where you were,” he continued narrating. “I told him you had gone flying but he already knew. Then he slipped something in my drink and I couldn’t– it was veritaserum.”

You looked at him shocked, he was about to cry from the memory. Veritaserum? His parents used veritaserum on him?!? You wouldn’t put it past Orion and Walburga but still, it was absolutely heinous. “Reggie….”

He let out something in between a breath and a sob when he heard the nickname, the same nickname he had hated but longed to hear after the incident. He looked so much like Sirius you wanted nothing more than to comfort him, you hastily realised how awful you had been.

“You never…” you swallowed. “You didn’t snitch on us.” He shook his head. You sighed, you face falling. “BIoody hell, I’m an asshole,” you said thinking back to all the times you had ignored and blown off the boy, your boyfriend’s little brother for fucks sake.

“You didn’t know,” he tried to reassure.

“Ignorance is no excuse,” you managed to say, disgusted with the way you had treated the poor boy. A boy who –and you had noticed from the beginning– craved a decent friendship, some kind of human connection. All the attachment you had felt for him before the escapade at the hotel came crashing back, and you groaned and how much of an asshole you had been “Sorry.”

He shrugged, “Does that… does that mean you don’t hate me anymore?”

You sighed again, cringing at yourself for causing such an impression on him. “Of course, I don’t fucking hate you Reggie. I was pissed, I AM pissed, I…” you struggled to form a coherent sentence .“I trusted you, besides Sirius warning, I trusted you because it was what my gut told me to do and then… then I thought you had betrayed us and I was pissed, I was pissed at you, at my parents at your parents, at Sirius who didn’t admit it was my idea and…” you sucked in a breath, “I was pissed with myself, for being foolish enough to trust you.”

“I’m sorry…”

You shook your head, taking a step closer, the urge to comfort him almost taking over, “No Reg… It’s me, I AM sorry, for not giving you a chance to–” You remembered the train, the race, the other times Regulus had tried to approach you and you had either ignored him or scowled at him to scare him away “–And you tried so many times.”

He laughed at himself, “I’ve been told I’m rather stubborn.”

You let out a breathy laugh. “Reminds me of someone.”

“Will you…” He hesitated, “Will you tell Sirius?” he asked, a mix of frightened and hopeful.

You nodded, “He needs to know, he’s… resentful.”

Regulus swallowed, another one of those expressions you had seen your boyfriend do, his eyes were still red, his breath was heavy and he looked like he was about to burst into a panic attack, you took another step towards him, reaching your hand to grab onto his arm before you stopped yourself. “Do you mind it if I–” you started, “can I hug you?”

He turned to you, a little shocked at your request, Regulus looked like he desperately needed a hug, you weren’t sure if your hug was the one he needed, but you hoped you could comfort him, if only to take back a little bit of the evil you had done to him, even if it was under the wrong belief.

Eventually, he nodded and you leaned closer, wrapping your arms around him, he was taller than you, unlike when you’d met, shorter than Sirius, but taller than you regardless. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, “for being a piece of shit.”

“You didn’t know.”

“I should have known. I just needed someone to blame and then Sirius–”

“It’s fine now,” he said with a smile. You don’t hate me anymore. Regulus seemed to relax as you rubbed your hand on his back, trying to comfort him as best as you could, and then he pulled back. “You have a party to attend to,” he told you, motioning to the side. “You were brilliant today.”

You smiled, “Bullshit, I pretended to know where the snitch was just to get Barty off Gale’s back.”

“And you fooled him,” he added with a bit of a smile. “That’s no easy feat.”

You shrugged, “You certainly helped.”

“That’s what friends are for.”

You swallowed. “Did you… did you let me win?” you asked with a frown.

He looked at you, eyebrows raised, “I would never let you win!” he said disdainfully, a whisper of the disagreeable Reggie you had met at the park. “It wouldn’t be fair to you.”

You nodded, a small smile playing on your lips. “So that means I won fair and square.”

“You jumped off your fucking broom to get the snitch, of course, you won fair and square.”

You shrugged, “I knew I had the swamp marble, and I was gonna fall off the broom anyway.”

He clenched his jaw, “Fucking Barty.”

“I can deal with him, don’t keep messing around or you’ll end up with a shaved head or something one day.” He placed a hand on his hair, looking slightly panicked and you laughed. “You’re so much like Sirius is ridiculous.”

He frowned at that. “Just go to your party.”

You smiled again, holding a laugh as you turned around, deciding not to tease him further, but you turned back to him “Hey Reg… Will you be alright?”

He looked at you and nodded. “I’ve got you as an ally now, of course, I’ll be alright.”

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A/N: You guys, I had some people asking me about Reggie for a while and I did mention that eventually things would be fixed up between him and the reader, didn't I? I know it took a while but it was sooo satisfying to write this one, and I've been wanting to see your reactions since I wrote it a few weeks ago, I really hope you enjoyed it <;3 Reggie deserves all the love!

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lunarspiral1127 · 1 month

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X-Men 97 episode 8 *SPOILERS*

Bastion

Not gonna lie, I busted out laughing when I watched his origin story. This is the second time an antagonist had to wait for a couple to make a child and use said child for their plans. Nimrod was lucky that the guy he infected was in a relationship. Plus, I thought it was gonna make Bastion sympathetic due to his childhood flashbacks, but nope.

So, he made a Utopia for humans, but the mutants are enslaved. Saw old Polaris and the Phoenix. But, what bugs me is that he claims that many of the humans consented to be turned into Prime Sentinels without knowing all the details and won't have any memory of being turned. I find it hard to believe that every single one of them would've consented, especially his elderly mother. Dude omitted many details and I'm pretty sure he turned some of them without them knowing. Plus, I'm still mad at him for killing Gambit.

Cameos of Dr. Doom and Zemo (hydra n@zi Zemo, not the MCU version). Wasn't expecting to see them being members of OZT.

Mr. Sinister's just in it for the mutant experimentation.....y'know what? I shouldn't be surprised with that reason why he "teamed up" with Bastion. More test subjects.

Summers Family

Not gonna lie, I was really annoyed with the drama between Cable and Scott. If this was comics Scott, I can understand why Cable's giving him the cold shoulder. But, this Scott didn't wanna abandon Nathan like his dad did to him! It was Madelyn that gave him to Bishop. So, if Scott was there with her, things would've been cool?! God, I'm so sick of this drama. Thank goodness that it didn't last long and that Jean stopped them from escalating it further.

Summers family vs. Prime Sentinels was pretty cool. I like that father/son fistbump, which means things will get better between the two.

It's funny that Jean's being the mom at Cable who's like this big man in his 50s.

Also, Jean and Scott's relationship is getting better which is a relief.

Nightcrawler

Once again, precious boy and MVP. What he said to Jean was really nice. He's always been there as someone's shoulder to lean and cry on. When he talked about Mystique, I felt so bad for him. Honestly, I hated what she did to him just because he was born that way. In the 90s show, she did feel guilt for what she did when Nightcrawler talked to her. But, I still didn't like her for what she did to him. However, with all the words and hugs he's given to others, I hope he has someone who'd give him words and hugs too. He also needs a shoulder to lean and cry on too.

SWASHBUCKLING NIGHTCRAWLER HELL YEAH!!! I've been waiting to see him use swords and it was worth the wait. Him teaming up with Wolverine was really cool. Plus, seeing how his teleporting works was cool too. Love that he was protecting his sister, and I'm glad that we got something with him and Logan cause we haven't had anything like that since he first appeared.

Beast

Why the hell would he let the reporter stay in?! Even if she's not doing her job, she's shouldn't be involved! It has nothing to do with her, plus, I'm pretty sure he revealed a lot of classified information that only the X-Men should be allowed to hear and see. Dammit, Beast. And, dammit Morph for letting her in too.

*sigh* Anyone else think, he's been done dirty in this episode? Cause having her stay in there got his butt kicked. Sure, he didn't know that she was a Prime Sentinel, but they do know the possibility that any human could be one, right? Now, Beast is knocked out along with Rogue, who hasn't woken up still.

Jubilee and Roberto

Okay, so they are gonna be part of the main plot, good. I was worried that they were gonna be sidelined, especially Jubilee.

His mom is a beech. She sold her son out to the Prime Sentinels and didn't believe him and for what? Her reputation?! Man, f**k this beech, she sucks. Poor Roberto though.

Finally using his powers more than once! I counted four times in this whole series so far of when he used them. It's also something that annoys me about the character. He said that he was training in the Danger Room to surprise Jubilee, but why couldn't we have seen that?! Why couldn't we have Roberto training with one of the X-Men's help and see him develop his abilities?! Hell, have Jubilee be there to train him! That way we could've seen more of his abilities and see him grow more and have him interact with other characters, bonding with them. Not just Jubilee. Maybe have him open up to when he first awakened his powers and why he wants to hide them, instead of just telling us.

On the plus side, they should be okay thanks to Magneto's magnetic EMP ability. Speaking of which....

Magneto

I'm glad he didn't get turned into a Prime Sentinel, but I still don't understand how Bastion and Mr. Sinister got his hands on him from Genosha. That blast should've killed him along with the Morlocks. I don't even think it's gonna be explained how they captured him.

His prisoner numbers....yeesh. 😬

The one good thing that Cooper did. Letting him go and realizing that he was right. Aside from that, f**k her. Seriously, was the only good human (regular human, not enhanced) shown in this was Moira?! Cause that's what it feels like.

Now, I was confused at first with what Magneto did, but I think he went to the North or South Poles and used the Earth's magnetic field which is strongest there to cause a worldwide blackout, disabling all the Prime Sentinels. Not killing them, mind you. All while in his underwear, too.

Honestly, I wouldn't blame him if he wages war. He tried to be good. He tried to respect Xavier's dream. But, look what happened. So, I wouldn't blame him if he did this.

HOWEVER! I like that Magneto was good. Part of me doesn't want him to go back to his old ways cause that's gonna be more conflict between him and Xavier. Plus, only Logan claimed that Magneto waged war. If he did, he would've killed the Prime Sentinels, but he didn't. If anything, he'd be waging war on Bastion since he's the one responsible. But, yeah, I'm sorry Xavier. You're cool and all, but Magneto was right.

Cameos

I mentioned Zemo, Doctor Doom, Future Polaris and Future Phoenix. But there were much more.

Omega Red and the Silver Samurai, but one that made me so excited to see......SPIDER-MAN!!! I was so happy to see 90s Spider-Man. I know many would want a sequel to the animated series, but we'll have to wait and see.

The rest I wanna talk/rant about

Professor X shows up finally, but I got miffed when he said "I hope I'm not too late". CHARLES! YOU ARE VERY VERY LATE!!! I know space travel takes time, but COME ON! He better do something real quick to help stop all this crap that's been happening. Dunno how, but it better be something good.

By the way, I'm still annoyed with that black hole excuse. Why couldn't he just contact Scott and the others and stay in touch with them right when he was fully recovered or was well enough?

WHERE THE HELL IS STORM?!?!?! I know she's with Forge, but you'd think the moment she heard about Genosha, she'd head back home flying. She'll probably show up next week, but it's been like two episodes since she got her powers back. Is her not being there sooner a choice the writers made cause if she was there, the fight with the Prime Sentinels would've been over quicker? *sigh* I just wanna see one of my favorites come back and kick some butt like she used too.

I dunno if Forge is gonna come back with Storm, but I hope he does. I want him to help with this Bastion mess. Plus, he did take a photo with him, which has me worried that he was connected somehow but I hope not. It also would be cool, if he contacted the rest of X-Factor and meet up with the X-Men and team up. But, I don't think that's gonna happen.

So, Bishop is definitely out of the picture for the rest of this season, which is bullcrap. It would've been cool to have him and Cable work together again like before along with the X-Men. But, instead, the excuse was they got separated from the time stream. So, we don't even know if he's okay or if he's lost again, or if he actually made it back home. God, I feel like his character's purpose of the show was to help create another characters origin.

Okay, I think that's pretty much it. It was a good episode, even though I did rant on a lot of stuff. We'll see how parts 2 and 3 play out in the next two weeks and hope that the finale will stick the landing.

#x men 97 #xmen 97 #x-men 97 #xmen 97 spoilers #x men 97 spoilers #x-men 97 spoilers #episode 8 #episode eight #marvel

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eddies-house · 8 months

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Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6 | Ch. 7 | Ch. 8 | Ch. 9 | Ch. 10 | Ch. 11 | Ch. 12 | Ch. 13 | Ch. 14 |

Smoke Signals

Chapter Nine - Blue Eyes

W/C: 8.4K

Eddie x Fem reader - Grumpy!Bartender!Eddie x Shy!Reader

Blue eyes never caught your attention...until they stepped into The Bourbon.

A/N: this was such a monster of a chapter to edit just because there's a lot going on...i hope y'all like it <3

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“Okay, well that’s not gonna work. We can’t afford all that.”

“What if I gather some…I dunno…donations?” You ponder.

“Bambi, enough.”

Eddie huffs at your persistence, crossing off a few items from the list placed in front of him. Your adorable handwriting had spelled out numerous options for fundraising ideas; something to get the bar back into a somewhat profitable margin. He wasn’t going to lie to himself and say he wasn’t grateful for your efforts but he had proven to become more and more annoyed as your list grew throughout the week. An impatient Jett stands next to you, rocking back and forth on his heels as he sucks in his cheeks, attempting to keep his thoughts to himself, though it was never his strong suit to remain quiet when necessary.

“Dude, just pick one!” He blurts out.

The tiny office looked comical, three bodies crammed in a small space that would certainly run out of oxygen had the door been shut. A displeased glare catches Jett’s attention, only offering you a shrug in response to his outburst. You’d mentioned before even approaching Eddie for the umpteenth time this week that the key was going to be patience. Let him come to you. Make it seem like part of it was his idea so he doesn’t feel like you’re doing charity for him.

“No, we can’t afford to put on a…a wine tasting or a—hoedown?” Eddie questions with furrowed brows as he underlines the words with his pointer finger.

“Eddie, if you let me–”

“I’m not letting you do anything.” He asserts.

“Listen–”

“No.”

Eddie Munson was the most stubborn being on planet earth, that much you could attest to. But you weren’t going to let him tackle your plans to the ground without a good fight.

“Munson.” Jett tries, only to be met with an inflamed scowl.

With wide eyes, you attempt to pull his attention back to you, hoping to save Jett from receiving an earful later. “Eddie–”

“Nope.”

“Eddie!” You squeal, eyes squinting shut painfully as you throw a miniature tantrum.

“Bambi.” He deadpans, leaning over his desk to stare you down. “Leave it.”

The look that used to scare you weeks ago now only had you rolling your eyes. He was at it again, refusing any ounce of help that was offered. When he got like this, you could only play it up and bring out your begging eyes. Hope for the best.

“Jett, can you give us a minute?” You clear your throat, an overly polite tone taking over.

“Fine.” He sighs before leaning in to whisper. “The hoedown…make him pick the hoedown.”

With a playful smack to his shoulder, you escort Jett out of the office–or rather you push him out and kick the door shut. His sights were set on that hoedown ever since the two of you sat down to scrawl out a few ideas the previous week. It was bold of him to assume that you could ‘make’ Eddie pick that option. If you’d learned anything since moving here, it was that Eddie Munson was a force to be reckoned with.

“Alright Munson.” You lean over his desk as he takes a seat in the squeaky office chair, you were a bit too comfortable in his space as your perfume flooded his nose. “We are doing one of these, whether you like it or not.”

His stare should frighten you, large intimidating eyes nearly black as the patience drains from him, tongue poking the inside of his cheek as if he were contemplating a scolding remark that would force you to back off. It only encourages you.

“Oh, we are? I wasn’t aware we were under new management.” He counters, seemingly deciding to choose a softer approach.

“Yes, we are.” You bite. “Because if not, we aren’t even a we. There is no bar. Will that make you happy?”

If it seemed harsh, it still needed to be drilled into his thick skull.

“I know that!” Eddie raises his voice, caught up in the heat of the moment. He didn’t allow himself a moment to think, only act.

He wishes he could punch himself for the way he made your face drop. A hint of fear taking over your graceful features. It wasn’t who he was—or at least that’s what he was trying to convince himself. He didn’t yell to get his way, he was not his dad.

“Fuck–’m sorry. Sorry. I didn’t mean to…get all mad and blow up on you.” He sighs, shyly shifting his gaze toward the ground. “I’m just…” He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m stressed and–that’s not an excuse, I’m just trying to–fuck I dunno.”

“Eddie...” Your saccharine tone pulls him out of whatever hole he was currently digging himself into. So candied and coated in tenderness.

He doesn’t need to respond for you to continue, the look on his face telling you everything. The wrinkles forming between his eyebrows are extra prominent, frown lines growing deeper in his anguish.

“Let us help.” Your words are dripping in honey. It’s obvious that you’re buttering him up, putting on your extra sad puppy dog eyes just for him, lip puckered out extra pouty, such a pretty sight, all for him.

“We want to help.”

There’s no saying no to you, he can’t stomach it. It was getting worse as time went on, every time he had the urge to tell you no, he couldn’t help but feel sick. Maybe if he pulled Jett back into the equation he’d have better luck. The kid got under his skin especially when he egged Eddie on and didn’t take a hint. But when you’re sitting all pretty for him, your elbows propped on his desk as you stare at him like you want nothing more in the world, who is he to deny you?

“Okay.” He exhales nervously. “Whatya got?”

“Really?” Your eyes twinkle, something he’d pay to see every single day, even if he was on the verge of bankruptcy. Which he was.

“Don’t make me change my mind.”

From just outside of the door, Jett chews on his nails, the argumentative tone of conversation just seconds ago still riddling him with anxiety. It would do no one any favors to rile up the boss who had clearly already been under an immense amount of pressure with his inherited business crumbling around him. Jett knew the steaks, he knew that Eddie would refuse to give up given that his grandfather had passed down everything to his only known grandson, leaving behind his legacy. Unfortunately, it’s hard to offer help to those who refuse it. But Jett knows that if anyone can persuade the big, bad Eddie Munson who was too stubborn for his own good, it was going to be you.

Every time you walked into the room, Jett witnessed a miserable man come to life. Bored, tired eyes became enamored and filled to the brim with infatuation. A bland day would instantly be cured the second you sauntered in with your tray, more often than not dropping it in the process of securing your apron around your waist. You never learn, always opting to struggle with the tray tucked in between your arm and body while your hands fumbled with those damn strings, sending the tray straight into the floor, your pens spilling out of your apron and startling you every time as the items clanged against hardwood. And every time, Eddie is there, watching from across the room before the inevitable happens. Every time, he is at your feet, collecting your mess and questioning ‘got it?’ in a gentle tone that Jett doesn’t ever recall hearing before you came into the picture.

Every time, Eddie Munson is reduced to a puddle of a man right before everyone’s eyes. Only ever for you.

It’s infuriating.

Jett supposes had he made his move sooner he would hold your attention like Eddie does. He would catch your gaze from across the bar, a tiny smile gracing your lips. The sparkle in your eyes would be for him and only for him.

Reality delivers a punishing kick and reminds him that Eddie had you from the beginning, even when he was outright rude to you. He had your curious eyes from day one. It wasn’t fair, Jett was so convinced at first. It wasn’t fair that Eddie had been the biggest asshole and yet your mind seemed so made up on him, eyes never lingering on another soul as long as they did when Eddie was around.

He was sure that he was over it, he told himself there was no chance, but something about the banter he heard muffled by the office door only stirred up every pessimistic cell in his body. Every giggle you let out at some stupid ‘joke’ that wasn’t even funny, every fucking time Eddie called you Bambi, every time you playfully scolded him only to reel back and flatter him, all of it drove Jett nuts. His fists were clenched at his side, knuckles threatening to split at the tension and face a raging red.

Because Eddie Munson had the very thing he desired. And he didn’t deserve her.

–

Your negotiations intrigued Eddie, the way you had a solution for every problem he attempted to create didn’t even frustrate him anymore. It used to aggravate him when you would offer a simple solution to a problem he deemed unsolvable. Now it only made his pupils dilate, his breathing becoming uneven solely because he couldn’t get enough of your energy. He thrived off of it, a different kind of high taking over him when you would voice your ideas, your eyes lighting up as he watched the gears turn in your head.

He almost misses your offer to persuade Jett into snagging some hay bales from his family’s farm should he end up choosing the Hoedown Night from your extensive list. Truthfully, he was lost. Lost in swirling thoughts of the girl in front of him who nearly two months ago, he would have never given the time of day to. And he didn’t…at first. But now…now he would give you any time of day you wanted. Rain or shine, day or night. He didn’t care, he would do the impossible if it meant your face lit up like a Christmas tree every time. He just couldn’t quite admit it to himself yet.

His lack of enthusiasm concerns you although you don’t show it as you continue ranting on about Donnie mentioning some old table cloths and picnic blankets she no longer wanted that could be used. She even mentioned her husband having a few empty barrels out in their garage that could be great for apple bobbing. She went as far as to ask around for different items they could use from her neighbors, already collecting an array of items they could use at their disposal.

“-and then we charge for entry. I know it’ll probably only make a small profit but it can hold us over somewhat, right?”

He’s thinking again.

His bottom lip is tugged on by his teeth and his lids are heavy with that far off look. You didn’t think your pitch was that awful in all honesty. You would admit that Donnie’s idea of a stripper night could be taking it too far but there were so many other ideas that had such potential and if he turned every single one down, you didn’t quite have a backup plan prepared.

“Eddie?”

He blinks, twirling his pen in between his fingers as if it were a drumstick but he still remains unresponsive. It’s not a good sign.

“I-I know it’s a lot of work and–”

“Okay.” He breathes.

“Okay?”

Your eyes become doe-like, ironically. You were really living up to that nickname, the one that sent goosebumps up your spine if he said it soft enough.

“Okay.”

His agreement doesn’t feel genuine, his gaze cast somewhere far off from the tiny room.

“Eddie.”

Your tone goes stern. Or at least stern enough for him to break out of his thoughts. Within seconds, coffee colored eyes are regarding you in a way that can only be met with heated cheeks and twiddling thumbs. He had been lost in his mind again, only returning at the mention of his name a second time through that firmness you displayed when you really cared about something.

“Bambi.” The word is grounding, anxieties settling where they were once fluttering around in your stomach. You no longer worried if you had upset him in some way. Not when his voice sounded so smooth, so satiny that it almost killed you.

That welcoming voice that felt like a tight hug echoes in your ears. Brown sugar falling from his tongue and sweetening any further exchange of words, no matter how conflicting his mindset could be compared to yours. As long as he kept using that tone, you would be putty in his hands.

“Um, so…we’re doing this?” You question meekly, a contrast to the confidence you had just displayed.

It’s quiet, though his red cheeks are louder than any words. He’s apprehensive, his irises darting around the less than decorated room. It’s obvious that he’s fighting an internal battle, engaged in a horrible disagreement with himself. Harsh words are probably prodding at his brain, forcing him to be reluctant in accepting any fraction of help.

What he doesn’t realize is that while he swears you’re staring at the biggest coward to walk the earth, you find him to be brave. It was clear after previous nights of long talks and shared trauma, that this wasn’t easy for him. Giving up control was the most terrifying thing he could do. Accepting this form of help was foreign to him, people back home in Indiana never offered him such courtesy.

So you wait.

With a stupid amount of patience that Eddie will never understand, you soften your gaze. All pressure is removed. Your attention shifts to doodling some kind of a flower on the paper sitting atop the desk in between you. You don’t await an answer from him, you only exist with him. Nothing is required of him and somehow, you both understand that.

He doesn’t want to be held to such requirements. He wants you to raise your standards and he wants to meet them, exceed them. You shouldn’t have to dull your bright personality for his shattered dignity. He’d always been a shadow looming over those he was closest to, always a dark cloud among a sunny day reminding everyone of his detrimental existence.

Good things did not happen to Eddie Munson.

Not in the past, not in the present no matter how convincing life could be in coaxing him into its trap, and certainly not in the future. Anything disguised as a saving grace would always end up being Eddie’s eternal hell. It always has and it always will.

Either way, his fate was determined. So why not let you take the lead? In his eyes, it would honor him if you ruined his life and although the mere thought of you leaving him behind in the aftermath of destruction haunted him, he couldn’t help but give up his control.

He was tired of fighting off the ‘good things’.

Especially when he would be left to piece himself together either way. It’s just another event he would have to endure, another lesson he wouldn’t learn from because he was too goddamn stubborn. Another mountain he would have to climb with his bloody, bare hands.

You continue waiting, not once pestering him for confirmation. He hates it.

He hates it, he hates it, he hates it.

You should be screaming at him, demanding an answer after his prolonged silence. Your hands should be smacking the surface of the desk in annoyance, your eyebrows should be pinched in frustration, and they aren’t.

There’s a comfort in the abuse.

Secretly, he begs you to lose your cool, pleads with some higher power that you snap out of it and just slap him across the face like he deserves. He is being difficult and you aren’t reacting. He has gone mute and you are simply okay with it. Even in the most forgiving situations he braces for impact but you make it so hard to.

His guard is supposed to be up, the walls are supposed to close him in and keep everything out but they’re crumbling around him, fast, exposing him. He feels naked but you don’t stare at him with expectancy, you don’t reach out and snatch what vulnerability he has left.

“I–” He breaks the unforgiving silence, wincing as his voice cracks. It’s only when you glance up at him with understanding eyes, your heart on your sleeve, that he relaxes.

Tension still pulls at every muscle, but he breathes. He breathes through the nausea of putting his trust into another person. Something he swore to never do again ever since his dad dared to show his face one last time back when Eddie was in high school. It was only the last time because he had gotten arrested, Eddie was sure he’d be stupid enough to give him several chances in hopes of fixing his deranged father. He was only human and the six year old kid in him only wanted to see the good in people, especially his ‘pops’.

“We–we’re doing this.” He practically demands of himself.

“Eddie we don’t have to–”

“We’re doing it.”

With glassy eyes, he nods as if he’s still convincing himself. You can’t help but intervene.

“Seriously, I know we were coming on strong but it’s just because–”

“I know.”

You don’t need further confirmation from him, big brown eyes doing enough of the talking as you begin to assure him he was the one calling the shots.

“Do you?” You ask genuinely.

Again, a part of him is pissed that you won’t just take the answer and tell him he didn’t need to be such a baby about the whole thing. Maybe slam the door out of irritation, enough to shake the wall. Maybe ask for a raise for all of your efforts. People didn’t do things for him just to be nice and he was already hating himself for being so pitiful that Donnie was offering to help without any compensation.

“Yeah.” He whispers.

“Are you sure?”

“Can you just–”

Eddie finds himself on the cusp of blowing up again. Anger bubbles in the back of his throat like bile, his hands clenched into fists repeatedly as his lips trace those familiar numbers before letting anything he regrets fall from his mouth in his moment of fury.

“Can I just what?” You question softly, hand reaching for his.

“Nothing.” He breathes.

There’s a pause, a brief moment where he’s clearly panicked, resembling a spooked horse. It disappears just as fast as it came, his eyes softening as he processes the situation. You just had to go and ruin it.

“Why do you count?”

The question spills into the air without you even thinking, your mind simply throwing it out there without fear of any consequences. Without thinking that maybe now isn’t the time. You regret it as his shoulders tense up, his guard up once again. The guard you’d patiently chipped away at only to destroy any progress you’d made.

“I–”

“Sorry, sorry! I’m sorry, I–just pretend I didn’t ask.” You attempt to stitch the messy conversation back together.

“No, uh, I-I…”

Stop letting her in.

You’re gonna get hurt.

You don’t expect his shoulders to untense as he sighs, you don’t anticipate how quickly his guard falls again, any hesitance he displays faltering before completely disappearing into thin air. All that remains is sincerity, face no longer contorted in worry and eyelids drooping ever so slightly in his sudden relaxation.

“I just–I started doing it after…after everything back…back home.” He answers before his thoughts can steer him away. “I dunno why.”

You’re satisfied with his answer, you’d even be satisfied with no answer. He didn’t owe you explanations and yet he kept giving them to you. Spilling his guts out to you, practically letting them fall onto the thin, dingy carpet of the office.

“I, uh, I’ve asked my therapist about it.” He elaborates, voice quiet and mumbled. “She said it’s part of the PTSD.”

You didn’t expect him to reveal such a personal detail although you find yourself squeezing his hand, settling into the quiet of the bland room. Words aren’t necessary, they never are between you.

“I don’t even know how to throw a hoedown.” Eddie snorts to himself, the energy shifting into something more familiar, more comfortable in the blink of an eye.

You’re willing to unpack whatever baggage he had revealed but it’s clear that he no longer is. And that was okay.

“Oh don’t you worry, I’m gonna get you a big bedazzled cowboy hat and everything, just let me take care of the details.” You partially joke, deciding not to tease him over his not-so-subtle choice of Hoedown Night.

“No, nuh-uh. Not happening.” He protests, arms thrown up dramatically.

“C’mon, you need to look the part!”

“I don’t have to do anything.”

His smile is contained, a grin threatening to pull at his pretty lips as his thumb grazes the top of your hand. A small gesture that nearly burns your skin.

“Well, I think you’d look cute in a cowboy hat.” Again, your mind speaks for you without any contemplation.

You should take it back.

You want to regret it.

You don’t.

It’s worth it when his face flushes red again, his fingers coyly pulling a curl over his face as if to hide, a sight you wanted to capture if only you had your polaroid with you. You’d have to settle for mentally pinning this moment to the wall in your mind that was ever growing. He doesn’t return the flirtatious banter but it doesn’t go unnoticed when he beams at you from his chair as you offer him sparkling eyes and fluttering lashes on your way out.

Two Weeks Before Thanksgiving

“Okay, Jett’s bringing the haybales in for Friday?”

“Yep.” Your pen glides across your messy, scribbled out checklist in a hurry.

“Did you get the apples yet?”

“Nope, was gonna stop by Thursday so they’re fresh.” You mumble, jotting down a few more tasks that had yet to be done.

“Alright and Nathan’s gonna have his truck all set for hay rides outside, that’s another charge right? We can charge extra?” Donnie questions, her scatter brain on full display.

“Yes, that would be great.” You assure, grace in your tone.

“Alright and then, Eddie’s friends should be here on Wednesday to surprise him–” Donnie begins to mutter.

What?” Your eyes widen, practically bulging out of your head.

“Yeah, Steve? And then the others–” Realization hits Donnie like a train, her eyes nearly falling out of her skull just as yours were. “Oh shit! I forgot to tell you.” She hisses.

Glancing around, she ensures the coast is clear before waving you out back. It was a Monday, the lack of patrons allowing you to do all the planning you needed to for Knife’s Edge first ever Hoedown. Donnie had been mapping out the place, assisting you in drawing out the layout for the event on paper. Eddie had been managing the bar, the sluggish evening rendering him positively bored, making it a point to initiate a huge yawn every time you passed by throughout the evening.

It drove him crazy when you pretended to ignore him.

“Do you think he heard you?” You whisper, the safety of being just around the corner not enough to convince you.

“He didn’t, that boy is nearly deaf.” Donnie seems certain. “God, I can’t believe I forgot to tell you.” She throws her arms up in exasperation.

“Why didn’t you tell me!?”

“Here’s the deal.” Donnie pulls herself together, grabbing you by the shoulders. “They come into town Wednesday night. Four of them I think, I always forget their names, god it makes me feel like shit. Anyway, they’re gonna surprise him at the bar. They usually stay with him.” She nearly runs out of breath in her explanation.

“Okay.” You breathe.

“Did I answer your questions?”

“I, uh, I think so.” You nod.

“You cannot tell him.” Donnie stares you down. “They’ve never surprised him, he usually knows when they’re coming to visit. Swear you won’t say a word.”

Her demeanor is almost threatening although you find it sweet that she cares so much. Eddie’s best interest had always been something she prioritized, same as you. In your eyes he was a golden boy with a golden heart who was dealt shitty cards. You weren’t sure if Donnie had been enlightened about any pieces of his past but you both seemed to have the same goal in mind.

His happiness.

As you continued to prepare for Friday’s events, you avoided eye contact with Eddie at all costs throughout the night, especially after you had learned about the ‘big surprise’. You’d walk past the bar, the shaker in his hands as he prepared a drink. He’d pause, the shaker mid air as his gaze trailed after you. You felt awful for denying his puppy eyes but it was all for his benefit in the end.

You couldn’t lie though, holding his attention as you continued to ignore him over and over offered you an ego boost. You’d never been looked at in such a way, you never felt so desired in your life.

–

“Have you seen the way she ignores me?” Eddie complains, Jett only muttering nonsense in response that Eddie couldn’t decipher.

“She won’t even look at me when I talk to her!” He almost whines.

It was getting to him, your constant neglect. It had been a day, a whole day since you’d started avoiding his eyes, never smiling at him the way you usually did throughout your shift. Not one little wave thrown his way. He felt starved. He’d never been so needy for someone’s attention, he was starting to feel like a leech.

“Dude, she’s just working.” Jett grumbles, his hands occupied as he stacks a hay bale against the back of the building. They’d been instructed to go out back and relocate them to make things easier come Friday night. They’d previously been stacked near the dumpsters, a little ways away from the building and were now being hauled next to the back door for easy access.

“You don’t get it, she’s being weird. It’s like she hates me.” Eddie grunts as he lifts the brick of hay.

“Maybe she does.” Jett sighs, not a single thought behind his words.

“What?” Eddie questions, attempting to hide the panic that had begun to shock his nerves, his head snapping toward his supposed friend.

“I–I dunno.”

“She say somethin’?” Eddie demands, shoving the hay onto its corresponding stack as he diverts his attention to Jett fully.

Jett’s gaze only gives off that he’s hiding something, his eyes avoiding Eddie at all costs, an ongoing trend poor Eddie was beginning to find. It only fuels a fire inside of him, embers growing angrier each moment Jett stands there dumbly.

“Did she?” The look in Eddie’s eyes resembles that of a bear that had been poked. Jett regrets letting his innermost thoughts fall from his lips in a moment of irritation, now he was subject to Eddie’s unforgiving inferno that was never easy to escape from.

“No.” Jett snaps a bit too aggressively.

“Then what?”

“I don’t know why you think she owes you attention.”

If Jett hadn’t fucked up yet, he certainly had now. If only he could’ve kept his stupid, naive mouth shut.

“The fuck did you just say?”

Eddie’s fist clenched at his side says enough, it screams that the conversation should stop here, that Jett needs to stop egging him on but he refuses to let it end here.

“Yeah, you practically pissed on her, claiming your territory and shit.”

If looks could kill, Jett would be in for a world of pain. Just when Eddie thinks the twerp is finally going to realize his place, he keeps going.

“She’s not your property, what if she had her sights set on someone else? You gonna swoop in and piss on her again?”

It feels as if someone grabbed his heart straight out of his chest and chucked it off the nearest cliff. The blood had stopped pumping and he swears he feels his veins run cold. He didn’t think he stood a chance with you but the thought of you becoming absolutely infatuated with Jett sickened him. Did you really have the intention of going after Jett? He couldn’t stomach the idea. He might as well sell the bar and run now to save himself the heartache, the only thing he was good at.

“I–” Eddie’s speechless, rage and sorrow clouding his vision.

“Oh, now you’re gonna shut up about–”

“I never claimed her, or pissed on her, or whatever the hell you’re saying.” Eddie argues.

“Yes you did! ‘Bambi’? What kind of shit is that?”

Eddie can feel himself vibrating with anger, his blood heating up once again as he scowls. Jett had not once expressed any interest in you and now here he was, attacking Eddie over something as stupid as a nickname.

“Go fuck yourself.” He spits before storming inside.

No one would ever want to be on the receiving end of the absolute death glare he’d shot Jett. It lasted seconds but some would go as far to say those seconds were torture. Deep down Eddie knew he could punch Jett and be done with it, assert his dominance. But that’s not what his intent was, you weren’t some prize to be won. You had simply fallen into his life and he couldn’t help but fall in lo–

He couldn’t help but surrender to your existence.

And now? Now he was in his head again. If you were going to ignore him, he was going to let you. You didn’t owe him a thing, even after the late night talks and spilled guts of vulnerability. Jett could have your attention for all he cares now. Except, he does care. And that’s what causes such an ache within him, the fact that he does care even if you don’t.

–

“Eddie, can you hand that glass to me?” You request sweetly, tip toeing as you point toward the shelf above him.

He looks up, a wine glass tucked nicely on the top shelf within his reach but clearly outside of yours. The frown on his face puzzles you though you keep to yourself as he garnishes a drink with orange.

“Mhm.” He mumbles bitterly, reaching up to grab the glass and handing it to you without so much as a glance.

You should be glad, looking into his eyes would only force you to engage in conversation with him and doing so could lead you down the path of honesty. You’d for sure give up the surprise and you only needed to last one more day, you couldn’t fuck this up.

“You okay?” You question, hesitantly gripping the glass in your smaller hand.

“Mhm.” He mumbles again, sliding the cocktail across the counter to its awaiting customer.

“You sure?” You betray yourself, attempting to catch his gaze, no longer caring that there was a chance of spoiling the surprise.

“Mhm.”

It was the third hum in a row. It drove you crazy, he would usually say something snarky and act like the smartass he is by now. He’s not and it worries you. Maybe it’s not your place to worry but you do.

“Eddie.”

“I’m fine.” He huffs, chest heaving.

A warning glance has you nodding, slowly stepping away to resume your original task. It was humbling, one day bantering and somehow falling into conversation about each other’s deepest secrets and the next being treated like a stranger. You obey his stare, his chocolatey eyes no longer displaying any trace of affection or depth, only pure hostility. The spark that had threatened to ignite so many times had disappeared completely, only what appeared to be ash leftover from the small fire that once burned within him.

“What’s wrong with him?” Jett announces himself next to you, breaking down a dirty table as you go to retrieve one of The Bourbon’s most expensive bottles of wine for a snobby customer.

“I, I don’t know.” You whisper in despair.

The rest of the night, you’re met with spiteful glares from Eddie and lingering touches from Jett.

Wednesday Night

This was it, after tonight you wouldn’t need to be so avoidant of Eddie. You wouldn’t have to lie to his face. It was becoming apparent however, that he had become irate. Every second of the day. That morning you waved to him as you got the mail and he tinkered with his truck to which he practically snarled and went right back to work. It was like you were back to square one with him, back to when he hated you and you had disturbed his precious, quaint, little life.

It could just be that he’s in a bad mood, it was early after all and maybe his truck had given out on him again. It was reasonable enough, it would piss you off had you been in his shoes. You weren’t entirely sure you’d take it out on everyone but it would sour your mood.

It was hard to keep a smile on your face while he glared at you from behind the bar just as he had done the previous night. You were trying to be the bigger person, trying to give him the benefit of the doubt. He was just making it so difficult by purposely delivering daggers to you whenever he could.

“Hey!” Jett greets you, emerging loudly from the kitchen.

You greet him back, a muttered ‘hi’, your eyes unable to tear themselves away from the man that seemed to suddenly hate you. You were in no mood to be friendly anymore, not when Eddie was creating such a venomous atmosphere using only his face.

“Is everything pretty much in place for Friday?”

“Uh huh.” You don’t even so much as look at Jett, a head full of curls the only thing holding your attention at the moment.

“You going with anyone?” He asks, pushing himself into your line of sight, much to your dismay.

It was as if you were trying to read Eddie’s mind from across the room and if you stared hard enough, you’d finally get through. You had no such luck and it could potentially be because Jett kept pestering you with questions.

“I’m working.” You state obviously, wiping down the table you had been clearing.

“Well–yeah…yeah me too. I just—maybe after? Once everyone’s cleared out, would you wanna…go out?”

It takes you by surprise and for a second, you’re unsure if he’s asking you out as a friend or if he’s making a move. As you evaluate the situation, you determine that it’s the latter with the way he shyly smiles and averts his eyes ever so slightly, his cheeks tinting a bright pink. You’d done nothing to feed into his interest, even when you figured he was just being friendly, simply too busy working to engage in the conversation he continued to try and force. Now it was just going to get awkward.

“I–I, Jett I’m sorry but…no, I’m not–I can’t.” You choke out, the sheer humiliation of the situation for both parties dragging you down.

“Oh.” Is all he says, disappointment evident in his eyes, gaze casting toward the floor as he twists a rag around in between his fingers.

“I just–we’re friends–”

“Yeah.” He sighs bitterly, spinning on his heel to speed off toward a busy table.

There was no further conversation, he didn’t let you finish, didn’t even offer to talk privately. It was just…done. And now you feared you’d made an enemy simply by saying no to a date. You were now the villain in his story. It seemed you were becoming the villain in everyone’s story at this rate, what’s one more?

It was t-minus two hours until Eddie’s friends would be arriving to surprise him and you were already worn out. If there was any hope of making a good impression at some point, there wasn’t a chance anymore. They’d be met with a mess of a girl with smudged mascara and crazy hair, apron stained with melted cheese that you had leaned into earlier on one of the tables.

They were going to hate you.

–

“Honey, what’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Donnie ushers you toward the hallway leading to the back, only stopping just before going outside to talk in private.

The whole night it seemed you were a brainless mess, messing up orders and forgetting in general how to do your job. Donnie had been keeping an eye on the time, ensuring things were set up for when Eddie’s friends arrived all the while making sure he had no idea. You’d helped set up the table for them and set aside the alcohol they liked but in all honesty you don’t even remember your entire shift. You were right back to being a stupid girl that didn’t belong.

“I-I just–do you think Eddie is upset with me?” Your lip wobbles pathetically.

“What!?” Donnie gasps, as if it were the most ridiculous thing she’d ever heard. “Why would he be mad at you? That boy likes you better than he likes me. Better than he likes most of us.”

That was news to you, you’d never been the favorite. And you doubted her words, no matter how sweet they were.

“I-I dunno. He seems–he seems really on edge and I’m just…I’m really overwhelmed and–” You whimper, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” She rubs your shoulder almost uncomfortably. Physical affection was not her specialty. “I’m gonna–I’m gonna go get him–”

“No!”

Before your protests reach her ears, she’s gone, rounding the corner straight to the bar. You’re well aware that you should rush out the back door behind you right now, that you should just spare everyone your existence but before you can pick up your heavy feet from the ground, a mane of curls comes hurling at you, hands reaching out to grip your shoulders. You look pathetic, tears beginning to trail down your cheeks, mascara more than likely following them, creating the most psychotic image.

“Bambi, what happened?” He asks, sincerity creasing his forehead rather than irritation as you’d grown used to in the past day or so.

“Nothing.” You attempt to brush past him, swallowing what pride you had left only to be firmly held in place.

“What happened.” He demands.

Chocolatey irises refuse to look away from you, his mind made up as he pushes for an explanation. Determination settles in his gaze, he wasn’t going to let you take the easy way out, much to your dismay.

“It’s not like you care.”

Your words bite, pain spreading as you regard him with such fire in your eyes. His hands remain on your shoulders, keeping you there while he continues his interrogation. It’s all too much, everything is falling apart in a matter of seconds. At least that’s how it feels in your mushy little brain.

“What?” He scoffs, offense evident in his pinched eyebrows.

“You don’t need to sit here and pity me. I’m sure you have better things to do like mad dog me all night. ”

It’s childish, the way that you cross your arms and jut your hip out to make a statement, but you can’t help it, especially when he had been such an ass the past few days. You’d done nothing to instigate–at least nothing you could think of and if you had, he wasn’t manning up to communicate the issue. The ball was in his court as far as you were concerned.

“What the fuck has gotten into everyone?” Eddie removes his hands from your shoulders to drop his arms heavily at his sides, almost as if he had given up. You hate that you miss the tiniest bit of warmth from his hands.

“No, what the fuck has gotten into you?” You counter meanly.

“Me!?” He raises his voice in the slightest but it doesn’t startle you, no, it only aggravates you.

“Yeah, you!” You match his volume. “You’re acting like a giant baby, moping around all day! We’re all just supposed to put up with it cause you own the place!?”

Eddie bites his tongue…hard. It’s useless when his stupid brain shoves his words out of his mouth, no longer a private thought that he could forget when he managed to calm down later.

“You’re the one who’s been ignoring me all week! What, are you too busy dry humping Jett to engage in actual conversation these days?”

There are several people scattered throughout the bar but at this moment, only her and Eddie exist. It’s not how she imagined in her daydreams. In her daydreams they’re smiling, unable to take their eyes off each other, his eyes swallow her lovingly and his rough hands brush against her cheeks as they drink in each other’s existence. They don’t fight, they don’t argue.

It would be too good to be true and she knows that. But she didn’t expect him to be like every other guy. He wasn’t like every other guy…until now. Until he reduced her to some other guy’s side piece the moment he disagreed with her.

“I–what?” You breathe in disbelief.

“I didn’t mean that.” He wishes he could turn back time and slap himself, take the words back, and apologize for his toddler-like behavior. Real life doesn’t offer such luxuries.

“Just–” Your words are lodged in your throat, unable to defend yourself as he pathetically dials back on his insult.

When he reaches out to place his hand on your shoulder as he had before, you wince painfully. Because it was painful. His touch would be enough to singe your skin except this time it would be out of malice. You wanted nothing to do with whatever apology he was about to improvise, you just wanted him to get out of your sight so you could finish up the night, clock out and cry into your pillow at home.

The progress you’d made with him seemed to have disintegrated like grains of sand passing through your fingers. It was such a miniscule issue that had only become larger with each sentence exchanged, an escalating argument between immature adults who were emotionally stunted and stubborn.

“Where’s Munson!” An unfamiliar voice calls from the front.

He ignores it, ducking his head down to catch your eyes only to be met with seething anger. His brain was scrambling to find a solution, a quick fix to tide you over. There wasn’t. He made his bed and he had to lay in it. He was in the dog house, if you even would be so kind as to provide him a dog house. He wouldn’t blame you if you chucked him out in the freezing cold for his behavior.

“Bambi–”

“Don’t.” You grit, pushing past him, his shoulder taking an impressive hit.

As you round the corner, it’s obvious that the four strangers lingering around the bar were Eddie’s friends. Good. They could be left to deal with his insufferable personality and rude comments.

“Eddie!” One of them shouts. He had to have been younger by a few years, maybe a college student. His curls are tighter than Eddie’s and he has an adorable grin that you couldn’t frown at any longer as he briefly glances at you. His attire was nerdy, some kind of polo decorated in graphics on his torso and khaki pants showcasing his unique style. To top it off, a baseball cap with a university logo sat snugly on his head.

The others appeared to be older, their demeanor a tad more mature than the boy that had yelled for Eddie like a younger sibling. To the right of him was a man with crazy voluminous hair, you notice how his pants fit quite tightly although it works for him. He wore a yellow sweater that seemed so cozy, you were starting to grow jealous. As you subtly look him over, you conclude that he has a handsome face, he was good looking, you weren’t gonna lie to yourself. He definitely wasn’t your type but you had eyes and could admit that he was in fact cute.

To the handsome guy’s right, is a girl with striking blue eyes and freckles dotting across her face. She sports a dirty blond bob with some messy bangs, a look that you knew would look horrendous on you but did her justice. She wears a blue toned flannel and some blue jeans with a few tiny holes and some converse. The grin on her face is contagious, though you really couldn’t find it in you to provide such a large smile in return, your ears still burning from your previous interaction with he who shall not be named.

Lastly, next to flannel girl, was perhaps a supermodel? If not she could certainly be one. Her face was also adorned in softer freckles and her eyes were a piercing blue, but she had these brown curls that reached just the tops of her shoulders that looked so lucious and well taken care of. Her outfit was a little bit quirky but it worked and she might as well be a trendsetter in your book. Her skirt was plaid and pink while her sweater was lavender with several tiny flowers creating a pattern across the fabric. She wore these boots that you’d die to have in your closet, truthfully.

Together, as a group they were rather intimidating, especially considering you were the only individual who hadn’t met them yet. So you idled near the bar, pretending to focus on cleaning a glass that had already been sparkling as all customers had already been served, Eddie tending to his surprise guests, leaving no room for you in the equation.

“What are you doing here?” Eddie asks, seemingly less than happy.

Each of his friend’s faces fall, no doubt taken back by the fact that they weren’t met with an elated friend they hadn’t seen for a while, instead they were met with his wrath that was more than likely supposed to be reserved for you but happened to slip through the cracks and leak at their feet. He didn’t have a right to be upset with you, he’s the one who took it too far. No sympathy was spared for him in your eyes.

“To see you!” Flannel girl exclaims, hands gesturing wildly in the air.

“Do we smell or somethin’?” The handsome one asks playfully, a smirk displayed on his face as he pokes Eddie’s shoulder. “What’s got you so bent outta shape?”

Eddie sighs, visually huffing out a breath as he controls his irritation. An apologetic expression crosses his face and you only wish he had the guts to offer you the same look moments ago. Even if he did, it didn't fix anything. He still practically insinuated that you had been slutting around with a coworker that you had not once even hugged. At most, you’d awkwardly side-hugged him a few times.

“Sorry, ‘m sorry. Just, uh, just under a lot of pressure.” Eddie rubs the back of his neck. “Hi, and what are you doing here?” He asks, a tad more friendly.

“Do I get a hug?” The younger one asks with a shit-eating grin. You almost laugh, almost.

Eddie doesn’t hesitate, engulfing the boy in a bone-crushing hug, his palm smacking down on his back which only makes the boy grunt in protest. Then, each of them receives a tight hug from him.

“It’s called a surprise, Munson.” The supermodel chirps, her voice gentle and sincere.

At this, you don’t know why but you can feel your teeth grinding. Your jaw tenses, fists balling up at your sides. You don’t even try to pretend that you’re occupied with something, that you’re too busy to even notice the interaction. And she notices.

“You must be Bambi.”

You hate that she seems so kind, bright blue irises full of compassion tuning in on you. How she knew the nickname Eddie had selected for you, you weren’t sure. What you did know is that the name only felt right falling from his lips, no one else’s. Politely correcting her with your actual name, you can only hope she picks up on the hint.

“Nancy Wheeler.” She introduces herself, gingerly shaking a hand that you had extended toward her.

You could play nice. Even as you will yourself to come down from your haze of rage, you can make nice. These people had nothing to do with what Eddie had said minutes ago, they didn’t deserve to have your first impression of them tainted by the rotten words he spat at you.

“Steve.” The handsome one brushes past Nancy, gracing you with warm eyes and a lopsided smile, shaking your hand gently. You wouldn’t expect it from someone dressed so preppy.

It all becomes so overwhelming-

“I’m Robin!” The other girl chirps in excitement, pushing Steve to the side to clasp her hand in yours. She wore a handful of delicate rings, a contrast to the chunky ones you were used to Eddie sporting.

“Hey!” Steve protests, offense written in every line of his face as he displays his disdain.

“Dustin Henderson!” The younger boy shoves past both of them confidently, his hand shaking yours impressively.

“We have heard so much–” Robin begins though she’s cut off by Steve lightly smacking a hand against her stomach.

So much personality bursts from each individual before you, not one of them the least bit shy as they continuously take over the conversation from one another. Robin’s statement only begs the question…what have they heard? Even further questions surface the more you think about it. Had Eddie alerted them of your existence back when you first crashed into his peaceful life? Maybe they’d heard all bad things, all things that painted you as some idiotic girl who cried at even the mention of a confrontation.

Among your silent panic, one question crawled to the forefront of your mind, clawing its way out of the millions of other haunting thoughts. A question that you had no right to be asking, even if only in the solitude of your brain.

Was Nancy Eddie’s girlfriend?

~end~

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tags - @gravedigginbbydoll @ohauggieo @spicysix @lunatictardis @ali-r3n @batkin028 @mrsjellymunson @witchwolflea @emma77645 @emxxblog @eddiesxangel @angietherose @lottie-90 @sheneedsrocknroll92 @pullingattheroots @avalon-wolf @vintagehellfire @cryingglightningg @foreveranexpatsposts @winchester-angel @mmunson86 @witchwolflea @kurdtbean @micheledawn1975 @tlclick73 @erinekc @hazydespair @whenshelanded @corrodedcoffincumslut @ms1oftheboys @lma1986 @uglypastels @aysheashea

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fic #eddie x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x fem reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson au #stranger things au #stranger things fic #eddie munson series

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gamer-paramnesia · 7 months

Text

happy halloween!! have some fighting headcanons! (characters, obvs)

long-ish post

etoiles!! he is a warrior at heart, honest and loyal

I would think his fighting style is heavy on the footwork and agility + doing the most damage in as little strikes as possible

visually graceful, but almost impossible to follow?

matches pace w his opponents

very much on the offensive majority of the time

heavily trained (common style of fighting, but super fucking good at it so that it seems extremely unique)

soo so unserious tho

fights for the thrill!! the only time he actually got serious was the battle against the 3 codes (where he fought code!pomme… n where he died…)

incapcitates, then kills

honorable fighter! will not play dirty

tanks

large bladed weapons are his go to (swords, scythes, etc)

phil!!! survivalist extraordinaire

picks his fights! knows when he cant win

also very movement based,, uses his wings as a counterbalance more often than not (therefore making a lot of moves that are physically impossible to normal humans)

defensive fighter, fights to incapacitate?

more unique style, as he learned from mostly himself n he refined it

efficient but an honorable fighter as well

fast. like, scary fast

keeps his emotions in check (funnels his emotions into his swings)

doesnt like fighting much (lie)

will play dirty if desperate!

tanks!

best with scythes n axes

fit!!!!!!! 2b2t historian, did you know that 2b2t is the oldest-

also picks his fights (very carefully!)

hard hitter, more on the barrage type instead of the strike n wait

on the offensive, prone to switching to the defensive tho

generally unpredictable movements (hes batshit insane)

sporadic, hard to pin down style

not the most serious fighter. taunts a lot, goes quiet when focused (first i lol'd, but then i serioused >:0)

dirty fighter!! all those years of 2b2t taught him that :D

goes for the kill when stakes are high

will play honorably IF he respects his opponent/considers his opponent a good person, but even then he'll use every trick up his sleeve to win!

although,,, he will back out of a fight he knows he cant win (and even if he could win, he'd weigh the pros n cons)

kinda,, support,,,

he makes me think of a scavenger tbh

prefers smaller, more handy weapons (axes, explosives, knives, etc)

bad!!!! totally-not-a-demon demon

im gonna say it again (its that he picks his fights)

goes for the confusion tactics (feints n tricks n misleads n misdirects etc)

similar to fit in the taunts n unseriousness n the silent focus

enjoys the hunt

falls in step w his opponents when the stakes are low

refined fighting style (had a lot of time to work on it and boy did he)

when the stakes are high,,,, his fighting seems frantic yet somehow practiced, every move is deliberate

a shadowed blur on the battlefield

goes for the jugular lolz

when he has the upperhand.. he plays with his food tbh

bites off more than he can chew sometimes

prefers the defensive

also a barrage of attacks instead of wait n strike (death by a thousand cuts kinda)

plays SO dirty its not even funny (it is a little funny..)

avid scythe user!! (likes comically oversized weapons tho, like his warhammer)

roier! idk that much abt him but ive heard that hes a great fighter as well so im gonna throw in my guesses as to how he fights

gets underestimated a lot? works on his side tho bc he is a ruthless fighter

a very emotional fighter, but uses it to his advantage

on the defense a lot, brutal on the offense??

surprisingly graceful

incapacitates

not the most refined style, but very efficient

sword guy!! but like a perfectly weighted sword? (very particular about his weapons?)

jaiden!!! havent seen her pvp much but these are headcanons so-

learned from the best! (roier)

hard hitter, zones into an enemy and doesnt let up

stays in one location, pivoting is key (stands her ground)

uses her wings to gain extra speed if she had to change locations

not super experienced, but a quick learner

very defensive

channels emotions into swings (kinda wears her heart on her sleeves tho)

goes for the kill for opponents she has grudges against?

another scythe enjoyer!!

pac! also idk that much about him but he seems ergonomic

VERY graceful fighter

underestimates himself?

footwork is very particular and careful, almost like a dance

defensive fighter

either quiet, focused fighting or screaming, crying throwing up fighting, no in between LMAO

kinda a dirty fighter as well? not super on purpose but learned it from prison times

he seems like a rapier kinda guy (swords!!!)

feel free to add on!!! esp if u have disagreements w my hcs hehe

#qsmp #qsmp fitmc #qsmp etoiles #qsmp philza #qsmp roier #qsmp pac #qsmp jaiden #qsmp badboyhalo #also to say: i know nothing about fighting LMAO Ive just consumed a lot of content that has a lot of fighting :3

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hadesisonlyalad · 5 months

Text

yk i dont post a lot on tumblr but we all saw that red flags post so im gonna take a moment of ur time to say something on each merc and the red flags listed for them. im doing a read more incase u havent seen the “mercs red flags” headcanon post and it does not flood ur page

both the medic and engie things with “not wanting to spend time with you/wont make time for you” is SUCH bullshit if that was the case they wouldnt even date you. and then ur telling me engie tf2, DELL CONAGHER, would NEVER want to take you on a date? like ever??? u are INSANE. And then sorry to tackle medic and engie in the same paragraph but they had a lot of common “””””red flags””””” that were listed. why would he yell at you. he hardly even yells in general (based off comics and voice lines) if anything hes just kinda a loud person 💀 AND YOU BRINGING UP ONE THING WONT MAKE HIM SUDDENLY IGNORE YOU FOR DAYS LIKE?? he KNOWS hes committing medical malpractice btw. he would not leave you for bringing that up he is WELL AWARE of what hes doing. and we see him CANONICALLY DISCIPLINE ARCHIMEDES IN MEET THE MEDIC, WHY WOULD HE TOLERATE HIS BIRDS ATTACKING YOU????

also why are we listing an addiction as a “red flag” what the fuck is wrong with you. i get not wanting to date someone with an addiction, its a valid concern, but thats SO much more serious than a “red flag” or “ick”??? LIKE ARE YOU OKAYYYY???????

AND THEN HEAVY’S RED FLAG IS “he has trauma” FUCKING. PACK IT UP GUYS IG IF YOU HAVE TRAUMA YOU CAN NEVER BE IN A RELATIONSHIP. (/s) WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU.

i’m fine with the miss pauling ones, at least two of them, because yeah, it’s canon that she doesn’t have the most time and i imagine if ur not a merc or work in that area a relationship might be a bit hard? but shes an honest person, i don’t think she’s gonna lie to you. idk im very neutral about the pauling ones, if anything theyre the most in character of this shithole list.

all i have to say for pyro is like. yk those people who hc pyro as aroace except theyre super weird about it? like theyre either infantilizing them or have weird ableist feelings about pyro? yeah thats the vibes im getting. actually wait where did u pull codependent pyro from actually wtf

i think the “tryna live like hes 20” thing for spy is really fucking funny 💀 like go girl go live through that middle age crisis!!/j no but seriously. hes dating you hes gonna think you’re a 10, and even then YOU’RE SAYING IF YOU AGE AT ALL HE’LL LEAVE YOU??? CANON MILF LOVER SPY. “OFF TO VISIT YOUR MOTHER!” SPY TF2. WILL LEAVE YOU IF YOU GET OLD AND AGE AT ALL…? HE LIKES HIS WOMEN LIKE HE LIKES HIS WINE MOTHERFUCKER: AGED. sorry bad joke lets keep going uh- i think the other hcs are garbage too i just really hate specifically this spy hc. just this one specifically.

im not a sniper connoisseur, my friend will is way better versed in sniper’s characterization, but even i know this isnt sniper. “thinks if he argues long enough he’ll win”…? “cannot support you in anything”?!!?! “IF YOU’RE HIS FRIEND AND YOU TWO GET INTO A BAD ARGUMENT PREPARE TO NEVER SEE HIM AGAIN” IM GENUINELY AT A LOSS FOR WORDS. I JUST. I DONT..? WHAT DO I EVEN SAY. I DONT K N O W WHAT TO SAY. BUT IF I DID KNOW WHAT TO SAY I’D BE SAYING VERY BAD THINGS.

i dont think scout is misogynistic- i see why people think that but me personally i just think he has no game and people mistake it as violent misogyny for some reason. but. listen we know scout is a dick we do okay but he loves women. why would he cheat on you.? bro he’d be glad u picked him 😭 AND THEN THE PERIOD THING?? he was raised by a SINGLE MOM do you REALLY think shes gonna raise him and let him think that way about a natural body function. im speaking entirely from the single mom experience and the answer is NO!!!! also how is loving your mother a red flag. being the youngest child is also a red flag, i guess. and having issues with his dad. (/s) also, second verse same as the first: IF HES DATING YOU HE THINKS YOU’RE A 10 WHAT IS SO HARD TO FUCKING GET ABOUT THISHXWHBVWBWBXvqvsbs?1?2!2’wndjwke

uhhh soldier wasnt. here for some reason. so nothing to say about him.

anyway leave ur opinions below. i rly dont wanna get into any tumblr drama or internet drama at all bc it scares me dearly and im always self conscious about leaving a bad digital footprint especially over something as petty as tf2 drama but i cannot stand for this slander I CANNOT‼️‼️‼️‼️ sorry if u also think im mischaracterizing anyone here i only put hours of studying into my fav mercs and thats. abt it,, listen im silly okay

#team fortress 2 #tf2 #heavy tf2 #engineer tf2 #scout tf2 #spy tf2 #soldier tf2 #pyro tf2 #demo tf2 #tf2 demoman #ms pauling #sniper tf2 #medic tf2 #guys im going insane #i hate this fucking red flags post im so sorry i had to let it be known #reblog or comment ur opinions ig im also curious

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kidstemplatte · 8 months

Text

broken by love

summary: uncle copi babysits you and terzo’s daughter.

message at the end of the post as usual. please enjoy. 🤍🐁

(this is gonna make me cry)

“Ciao, fratellino!” Terzo greeted his brother, standing in the doorway of the Cardinal’s quarters, holding his little girl, Violetta, in his arms.

“What a lovely surprise!” Copia replied with a grin.

“Sorry I threw this upon you with such short notice, I’m going out with (Y/N) - er- this one’s Mommy tonight.” He said, quickly correcting his mistake as he placed his toddler on the ground.

“Oh no, you are not throwing anything on me at all. I am always happy to see my niece.”

“Alright la mia stellina, your Mama and I will be back tonight. Have fun. Make sure he stays out of trouble.” Terzo said, as if he himself didn’t come out of the womb Satan’s greatest troublemaker.

“I will! Hi, Uncle Copi!” she beamed, jumping up and down in excitement. Violetta loved spending time with her uncle. He was funny and sweet and had lots of cool toys in his room. Not to mention apple juice.

“Alright tesoro, have fun, but do not forget about me. I love you, la mia stellina.” Terzo said, kneeling to the ground and planting kisses all over his daughter’s soft face.

“Bye-bye Papa! I love you!” she waved as her father left the room.

“So, what shall we do?” the Cardinal asked his niece, clapping his hands together and shifting them a bit.

“Can I see your toys?” she asked excitedly, looking up at him with her big round eyes, strikingly akin to yours.

“Eh… My toys?” He asked, a bit confused, until realizing what she was referring to. “Oh, of course!”

Copia was, to put it bluntly, a big fat nerd. The shelves in his office were lined with what he would describe as “artifacts”, figurines and merchandise from various games, films, and comics, which were now old enough to be considered “vintage.” Thinking about that sent a shiver down his spine. Typically, Copia was pained when someone referred to his collectibles as “toys”, but found it utterly adorable in this scenario.

“Right this way!” He announced, crouching down a bit to take her tiny hand in his and lead her towards his office.

Upon entering the room, Violetta gazed up at the various memorabilia in awe, mouth agape. The Cardinal couldn’t lie; it was nice that someone finally showed some appreciation for his collection.

“Can we play?” she asked politely, pointing at the shelves.

In this moment, the value of the figurines meant nothing to him. He would normally become frazzled when someone touched his things, waving his hands frantically while jumbling a plethora of words,

“Nononothesearespecialdonottouchpleaseyouseetheyareworthalotandeverythingisexactlywhereitneedstobeplacedand-“

But she was a well-mannered girl, and beyond that, was far more special than anything on his shelf. Besides, at the unlikely chance she were to break something, it would be a wonderful excuse for him to scroll through eBay and search for a replacement (as well as other trinkets) late into the depths of the night. And if anything were to be broken, it would be broken by love. The best thing to be broken by.

“Sure!” he responded cheerfully, gesturing towards his display and letting her decide which characters would join today’s cast of playtime.

Today’s storyline was rather enthralling. A young and beautiful woman named Collette (a Princess Leia doll) was secretly in love with “Señor Joe”, (a Boba Fett figurine) someone her parents told her she must never speak with. The story ended triumphantly with a beautiful marriage. Copia didn’t know how or when they got there- he remembers Violetta briefly mentioning flying to Brazil on a private jet- maybe a war at one point- but somehow the two figures wound up at a marvelous wedding ceremony on Mars in front of all the Storm Troopers, to which, Violetta triumphantly announced, “The End!”

The Cardinal couldn’t help but wonder what you and Terzo were watching on television that inspired this thrilling plot.

“Wow, that was quite the story!” he said, impressed with his niece’s imagination. “You are very creative, much like your Mama and Papa.”

“Thank you Uncle Copi!” she chirped, practicing the manners you and Terzo taught her.

“Of course.” Copia caught sight of the clock, shocked by how much time had flown by.

“Violetta, it is now a very important time of day.” He announced.

“I already had nap time, Uncle Copi!”

To this, he chuckled, and ruffled his niece’s hair.

“Not nap time, it is feeding time.”

“But I’m not hungry.” She replied.

“Not for you, but for my rats.”

“Rats? You have rats? I want to see! Pleasepleaspleasepleaseplease!” She squealed, shaking her little hands in excitement, a mannerism he observed she shared with you.

“Papa says they are foul creatures plagued with disease!” she said, her bright smile indicating that she clearly had no understanding what any of that meant. For all she knew, that could be a top-tier compliment.

“Do you want to help me feed them?” he asked.

“Yes! Yes!” she agreed as she followed him out the door and down the hall, singing a little song about rats on the way. He might have to write that down.

And there they stood, in all their glory, two little rats in a spacey, well-kept cage, their beady eyes and soft grey fur capturing the little girl’s attention.

“Uncle Copi, they are so cute!!!” Violetta squealed.

“Would you like to hold one?” He asked as he opened the cage, refilling their food bowl.

Violetta got a tad nervous after his proposal, fingers fidgeting with the sides of her dress and her expression shifting to an anxious one.

“They are very sweet. You do not have to hold them if you do not want to, but I promise if you are gentle to them, they will be gentle to you.”

“That makes sense.” Violetta replied after her uncle’s thoughtful explanation. “I want to hold one.” She concluded. “Please.” She added, remembering what she was taught.

Maybe Terzo could learn some manners from his four-year-old daughter.

The Cardinal thought to himself.

“Now, hold your hands out like this.” He explained, cupping his hands with his palms facing up. “Do you want to hold Pesto or Bean?”

The latter name made Violetta giggle.

“Is something funny?” he teased.

“Bean is a funny name.” she replied through giggles, pointing at Bean, the brown rat.

“Okie dokie, one Bean coming right up!”

Copia gently picked up his precious Bean and placed him in Violetta’s hands. She giggled as she looked down on the little rat, so small, so sweet. A little bit like her.

“He is nice.” She said, smiling. “His feet tickle.”

“He is very nice. And sí, they do tickle. One time I was in a very important meeting and I did not notice this little Bean was in my sleeve until I felt him pitter-pattering up my arm and started laughing in front of the entire Clergy. Your Papa was there.” He recalled.

“Really?” Violetta asked.

“As real as real can be.”

“I guess I can’t bring him to school.” she sighed.

“I suppose not. But Bean is highly educated already. Does not need any more schooling.”

“Oh. I see.” she replied.

After some bonding time with Bean, Copia scooped him up and placed him back in his penthouse of a cage.

Bye bye, Bean. Bye bye, Pesto. She said, waving to the little rats.

“Next time you will have to hold Pesto. My bestie, Pestie.”

“Your what?”

“My bestie, Pestie. Bestie Pestie.” he explained nonchalantly.

To this, Violetta did not just giggle. If “Bean” was funny, “Bestie Pestie” was downright hilarious. The little girl started laughing so hard her stomach hurt, rolling on the ground as she repeated “Bestie Pestie.” The sound of the young girl’s laughter brought a newfound lightness in his heart, one that left his heart full but a little bit broken simultaneously. The two of them laughed together on the carpet, sharing what would be a treasured memory even years later.

After recovering from the laughter, Violetta asked,

“Can we play a game? Please? The car one?”

❦ ❦ ❦

“That’s how my Papa drives.” Violetta stated bluntly as she sipped on a juice box, pointing at the television screen as she watched her uncle crash the pixelated car in his video game.

Copia chuckled.

“Maybe you can do a better job than me? Your turn again?” He asked, holding out the controller.

“I like to watch. It’s fun.”

“Okie dokie.” Copia said, starting a new round of his game.

But this round was a little bit quieter. There was an absence of conversation. Violetta, exhausted from an afternoon of playing and laughter, fought the urge to fall asleep as her eyes started fluttering shut.

“Copi?” she suddenly said.

“Sí?”

“Are you a Papa?” the girl questioned.

“No, cara mia, that’s your father’s job.” he explained, laughed softly.

“Are you a Papa?”

“I’m afraid I do not understand.”

“Are you somebody’s Papa?”

…

Such a simple question that dug up so many not-so-simple feelings.

“Are you asking if I am a father?”

“Yes.”

“Oh. No, I am not.” He clarified, heart sinking a tad.

“Why not?”

How was he to explain to a four year old that he didn’t have what was considered a prerequisite to a child: a partner? That he was never sure if he would fall in love or that even if he did, there would never be anyone in the world who would love him back? That he wanted to be a Papa more than anything, but his life had not led him to that point?

“I already have my rats, I suppose.”

“You should do it.” Violetta suggested, as if it was a simple thing to accomplish.

“Maybe one day.” he replied, smiling softly.

“You’d be a good Papa.” she sleepily uttered.

“Thank you, Violetta. My brother is very lucky to be your Papa.” He replied, sincerely.

And the sleepy young girl gathered all the energy she had into one final statement before dozing off:

“Love you, Uncle Copi.”

“I love you too, Violetta.”

And she was off to sleep.

Copia carefully stood up, trying not to wake the sleeping girl, and walked to the closet to grab a blanket. He picked up something else as well: a small rat plushie he had been saving for her birthday. He figured he would give it to her now, so she could have a Bestie Pestie of her own. After placing the large blanket over her, he tucked the stuffed animal snugly beside her.

Copia sat beside her on the couch, scrolling online to find a new birthday present for her. He settled on a Barbie airplane that would make a divine private jet for Señor Joe and Colette.

Just after he pressed “order”, he heard a knock on the door and its soft squeak as it opened.

“How cute.” You said quietly, entering his room and seeing your daughter sleeping peacefully on the couch.

Terzo, rather than commenting on the sheer adorableness of his baby girl as he normally would, decided to torment his brother.

“Ay ay ay, I trusted you, mio fratello, with my sweet and precious daughter, only for you to allow her to rot her mind in front of a screen.” Terzo said facetiously, gesturing to the paused television, placing his hand on his forehead with an exaggerated sigh.

Copia, although accustomed to his brother’s persistent sarcasm, was petrified at the idea of rotting his niece’s brain. His facial expression was one of terror, and he immediately began spewing out a plethora of apologies until you gently stepped in.

“Don’t worry about it, Copia.” you affirmed him. “He’s just being Terzo.” you continued, playfully slapping your husband lightly on his arm.

“Is that so bad?” Terzo continued, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“I never said that.” You responded, a smile and a soft blush creeping up on your face as your banter went back and forth, words slurring together.

Yeah, clearly it was a fun and not-so-sober night out. Good for you guys. Being a parent couldn’t be easy.

Noticing Copia awkwardly gazing around the room, you decided to spare your brother-in-law from your flirting, something your husband would never do.

“She always loves spending time with you.” you said, walking up to the couch and scooping your daughter into your arms.

“Aw, what’s this?” you asked, looking down at the cute little rat friend Copia had given to her, kneeling down and picking it up.

“Tell her she now has her own Bestie Pestie.”

“Huh?” Terzo said, raising an eyebrow.

“Pesto. The rat’s name is Pesto. Therefore he is my bestie, Pestie. Bestie Pestie.”

You actually had to pass Violetta over to your husband, still holding on to the stuffed rat, because “Bestie Pestie” on top of the alcohol might make you collapse.

“Bestie Pestie?” you wheezed out, trying desperately not to make too much noise, tears welling up in your eyes as you held onto the wall for support.

Terzo chuckled and rolled his eyes at his dorky little brother.

“Thank you for watching her, Copia.” Terzo said, giving his brother a warm smile.

“Of course. I hope you two had fun.” he replied.

You waved goodbye to the Cardinal, still holding onto the stuffed animal. You might have to share custody of this thing with your daughter.

“Tell Bestie Pestie I said hello.” You said, stumbling out the door, laughing.

As Copia said, Terzo was lucky to be a Papa. Beyond lucky.

But he was also lucky to be something else as well. A brother. Copia’s brother.

And even if Copia’s heart broke a little during his conversation with his niece, envious of his brother and the joy that came with being somebody’s Papa, that would mean it was broken by love.

The best thing to be broken by.

╚══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╝

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

i wrote this in one day which is utterly insane for me.

ughhhhhhhhhhhhh i’m so in love with uncle copia, lowkey trying not to cry in public right now, violetta’s story is expanding and new characters are coming!!!

thank you so much for reading!!!

if you have sent me a request, it is coming!!!

<3, alice

#the band ghost #ghost band #papa emeritus iii #ghost #papa emeritus #papa terzo #papa emeritus x reader #terzo x reader #papa emeritus iii x reader #terzo #dad! terzo #copia #cardinal copia #papa copia

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rose-tea-and-strawberries · 9 months

Note

So, Across the Spiderverse has had me in a chokehold since I watched it. Could you imagine a Yuu in the House Mouse au who is not exactly powerless, but her abilities are not magic-based? Welcome to the crossover that nobody asked for, and I'm gonna pretend that secret identities don't exist for a moment and that disrupting canon events from astv don't exist.

Spider!Yuu's spidey senses can tell when danger is afoot. Whenever she's on the clock, there's fewer accidents and just swings by before Goofy trips and tosses all the dishes. She can tell when either Pete or Mortimer are here.The staff can rely on her for cleaning the high ass ceilings because she can climb up walls with no problem. And her webs make the best Halloween decor.

Von Drake and Jumba being so fascinated with Yuu's anatomy and intelligence. Whether has organic webbing or made web shooters of her own, they want so badly to experiment on them (definitely not gonna try to get bit by a radioactive spider too, nope).

Jamil being torn from freaked out to having a crush on a girl with spider powers. Jafar trying to convince him that she's not an actual spider so that his ship could sail

Yuu making a web hammock to calm down the little kids in the club. Next minute she's having a strength competition with Hercules and Gaston because she can lift up to ten tons.

The clubgoers seeing her memories and freaking over the fact that Yuu has been up against so many dangerous foes and life or death situations such as the iconic train scene. It scares them even more than the overblots do.

The Parr family from the Incredible (if they're here in the au), feel so bad because she's doing vigilante work all on her own. Edna mode upgrades Yuu's spider suit to a new level with glee.

Yuu: No capes please. It's disrespectful to my image.

Edna: *sniffle* Would you like to be my daughter?

Okay okay okay first of all I'm going to vent a bit about ATSV because Pavitr my boy, my sunshine, my everything is literally so important to me like hell yeah give me the south asian/brown kid representation (now if only there was an young asian girl with a bob so I can feel better about that Dora the Explorer look my mum forced me to have throught 90% of primary school whilst all of my friends got to grow their own hair out)

Also not going to lie the only reason I'm into ATSV is because I've been a Mayday Parker stan since 2017 - like she is everything (and her backstory is just so sad like PeterMJ didn't deserve that). My favourite spider-people after Peter are his multiversal daughters because girldad Peter is everything (I actually own physical copies of the Renew Your Vows comics that are about Peter and MJ's daughter, Annie-May Parker, and they are so frickin good) but I digress...

Yes but Spider-Girl!Yuu is so cool. Thank you for giving me this idea.

I don't know if I want Yuu to have her own Guy in the Chair back in her universe and for Idia to feel jealous/threatened or for her to have no guy in the chair until she comes to twst and Ortho is like 'my time has come'

Ohh imagine the insane parkour skills she, Ruggie and Aladdin would have.

I know that being insanely smart in science is a Peter Parker thing and doesn't really apply to all Spider-People but I think she would be a science whizz (and joining the science club - making Crewel's already glaringly obvious favouritism skyrocket) and hanging out with all of the scientist characters like Prof Von Drake, Jumba, Yzma etc.

Her and Herc would be training buds. He'd see her and her heroics and superhuman friend and be like 'new best friend :D'. Phil loves the heroic potential she has and wants to train her but Pegasus and Megara are like nope and swoop him away.

Oh but imagine the beastfolk finding out about her enhanced senses and how sometimes they cause sensory overload and helping her out because they grew up like that so they know how to manage it better (I once read a fic that said that Savanaclaw showers have soaps with subtler scents to accommodate their enhanced sense of smell and like yes) whilst she's still getting used to it and has to keep it a secret back in her world.

I'm thinking back to all of the MCU!Peter Parker fics I read and all of the spider DNA tropes that tickled my fancy and I can just imagine the twst/HoM cast reacting to things like her having no thermoregulation (and going into hibernation), her purring, her being allergic/having a poison like reaction to peppermint, her having fangs (her being venomous would be cool as well - like imagine Kaa being all fanboying over her fangs and venom glands) etc..

Okay so I remember having a bunch of ideas about this but I can't recall all of them so here... 😅

#asks #twisted wonderland #twst #twst yuu #fem yuu #house of mouse au

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tenjiiku · 1 year

Text

rapture / winter

it's been ten years since you left. he still falls for you the same way he did when he was 17.

manjiro sano x fem reader

11.7k words

warnings: portrayal of abusive relationships

prev | masterlist | next

You first met Manjiro at ten years old. Two years your senior, you were positively terrified of him. You remember this now, of all times, particularly because you dreamt about your first encounter last night.

It was during the Summer of 2001 on a Sunday afternoon.

Having Emma Sano appear at your door only three days after sharing a simple smile with her from across the lawn of your new home was certainly a surprise. Mama had fawned over her many times over dinner, urging you to befriend her. To which you would dismiss, opting to gaze at the girl like some foreign entity — open to admire but never encounter.

The year was in that strange time between the Summer and Autumn. It was awfully cold to fully show one's legs, but by the same coin it was too hot to be wearing a sweater. You weren't sure if Emma had caught you at a favourable or unfavourable moment. You had just gotten out of the shower, on the one hand. On the other hand, because you finished your schoolwork and housecleaning on Friday, you had nothing to do over the weekend.

(Thinking back, Emma had always watched over you.)

“Y/n-chan! We're cuttin' some watermelon, come have some!"

The older girl is positively giddy. You briefly get blinded by her radiant aura. The trees and grass are both stunningly green, and the sky is clear and blue. The scenery complements Emma's presence and vice versa.

She is mature and beautiful. She is everything you are not.

You pinch your inner palm, bend your four fingers and dig them into your skin.

"I...," you start, "I don't know..."

"Are you busy or somethin'?"

"I... was cleaning." You lie.

Emma rises to her feet in response to your justification, leans to one side, and looks inside your home. When you realise what the blonde was doing, your eyes widen, and you awkwardly lean in her direction to hide her vision. It was too late, though.

"Your house looks pretty clean to me!" Emma cheers, "Come on, I wanna play!"

You open your mouth, close it, then open it once more before murmuring a small, "Really?"

"Mhm, we’re gonna play hide n' seek!"

You bite the inside of your cheek. You gaze at your feet, bare because you could not afford indoor slippers. Then you stare back at Emma's hazel coloured eyes.

"Come on!!!"

You take a deep breath in, suddenly becoming hyper aware of every action. You consider all the drawbacks of saying yes to Emma's invitation. But your personal worries would pale in comparison to the blonde's disappointment at being rejected. You had a strong desire to spare Emma's sentiments of disappointment for some reason. Mama had always told you to respect your elders — to never question them, to always be a good girl and listen. So you did. And Emma was no exception.

"Alright..."

Emma grins. You cannot help but also smile. Mama would be so proud of you.

It's almost comical how little it took for the girl to become so filled with glee — but you found it rather cute. You can practically feel Emma's contentment as you finish putting on your sandals.

"Come on, come on. Hurry hurry, the others are waiting!"

Others?

Before you can ponder on that thought a second longer, Emma grabs your arm as soon as your key leaves the door's hole. You try to calm the beating of your heart as you find yourself entering Emma's large complex. What ever were you thinking — going into a stranger’s home when mama was gone?

"Ah! Emma, you brought her!"

At the sound of a boy’s voice, you snap out of your reverie. The hold Emma has on your wrist is taken away and you suddenly feel as though lava has been poured onto you from the sheer intensities of the various pairs of eyes all drawn onto your meticulous frame.

But you dare to look up, and notice that Emma has brought you to the dojo you would often listen in on during evening martial arts lessons. It was open, presenting the wooden engawa, small cherry blossom petals falling in preparation for Winter littering the cracks.

"Emma managed to drag you outta the house, huh?"

The strange man asks with a smile, approaching you and Emma and being bold enough to pat you on the head. You close your eyes at the contact.

"Good job." The young man directs towards his sister, who grins pridefully.

"Hehe, thanks!"

You lift your head, the heavy hand still on your scalp. Your cheeks feel hot from the contact which the man refuses to take away. Still, you try to introduce yourself.

“I’m— I’m L/n Y/n.”

The man finally takes his hand off of you, gazing down at you with lazy lidded eyes and a Cheshire grin. He inhales from his cigarette and puffs the smoke out to the side, you try to keep yourself from coughing.

"Sano Shinichiro. Your mother had come over with pork gyoza the other day. Told me to take care of ya.”

You bind your hands together, awkwardly and unassumingly you murmur, "Oh. Okay. Yeah."

You put on a false ignorance about the three other boys in the yard. You stare one of them in the eye before looking sheepishly down at your feet again.

"Hey!" From across the grass, the boy with whom you shared eye contact yells. You tremble.

As he approaches the two of you, his voice is raucous and loud, as befits the situation. Suddenly drawn to the noise, you look in that direction and are astonished to see someone else appear between Shinichiro and you.

He extends a hand and says, "Baji Keisuke!"

At first, you're taken aback by how swiftly he decided to greet you and carried it out. He appeared to have acted without even pausing to consider, but you firmly believed otherwise. Keisuke, still in front of you, stretches out his hand. You can sense Shinichiro-san beaming broadly with amusement. You can't get out because everyone is already focused on you, so you dive in head first — despite not knowing how to swim — to make everyone feel comfortable.

You also extend your hand, accepting his, "L/n Y/n.”

Your way of speaking was a large juxtaposition of Keisuke's greeting. You accept his hand, and you are surprised to find it so warm against your own. Keisuke in turn, smiles at your willingness — at least you suspect so.

"Y/n, nice to meet ya!" Keisuke shouts, his toothy grin being so dazzling that it almost causes you to lose vision. You could probably work with the fact that this boy wore his emotions on his sleeve.

"Keisuke, you shouldn't say something to someone you just met."

From his seat next to Manjiro, a boy with a buzz cut in rose colour makes fun of his friend, clearly igniting Keisuke's boiling rage.

He turns his head, "Shuddap Haru!" his pupils engorged with venom.

While the two boys argue, you look at Emma apologetically.

“That’s Haruchiyo-kun, next to my brother, Manjiro. Or, we like to call him Mikey!” Emma gently explains to you, pointing at the short blond haired boy beside the taller one. Your eyes meet for a couple seconds, then you look away, anxiety pooling in your stomach.

When you hear the tell tale sounds of grass crunching underneath boots is when you pick your head up to notice an older man looking at you, then at Shinichiro. His taller frame gives you some relief from the sweltering heat, allowing your previously strained eyes to temporarily relax.

“She’s the new neighbour?”

He has a deep, slightly menacing voice. Shinichiro smiles and nods, and the stranger then turns to look at you.

As a sign of acknowledgement, he raises his head, saying, "Takeomi, Shinichiro's friend.”

You adjust the hem of your simple white t-shirt as you nod in agreement. You notice a girl looking at her from behind the man's legs, but as soon as she makes eye contact with you, the youngster runs away once more. You raise your hand to your cheek and begin to scrape the skin there.

Once more peeking her head out from beneath Takeomi's legs, the young girl now also catches Emma's eye. The blonde smiles at the girl while furrowing her brows.

"Senju!" Emma hollers and dashes behind Takeomi's knees to grab at the child's hand. She tugs the small girl from behind her brother, finally letting you catch a glimpse of her.

"This is our new neighbour, Y/n-chan!" Despite being only a few centimetres away from Senju's smaller frame, Emma explains fairly thunderously.

Senju's once-wary eyes seemed to flood with warmth the moment the blonde introduced the young girl to the unusual person who made her best friend Emma so happy.

"Hiya!" She exclaims, her hair bouncing with the sudden head nod.

"Hey-... Hi." The two girls round you and stare at you as if you were holding stars in your hands while you stammer. Baji stays by your side as well, and the sudden attention makes you perspire.

You're happy you chose to wear white for today.

"Are ya gonna play hide and seek with us?" Senju queries.

"Uh," You dare to cast your gaze in the direction of Manjiro and the boy Baji had dubbed Haru. You look back to the shorter girl in front of you out of shame as the two give you a direct stare. "I-I'm not sure."

At this, Emma and Senju whine, and just when you’re about to retaliate, you feel a heavy arm swing around your frame and rest on your shoulders.

"Come on, L/n," Keisuke drawls, emphasising your surname and darting his eyes towards Haruchiyo, "We need more players, 'sides, Haru doesn't even count 'cause I can catch him in a second."

Baji receives a direct blow to the forehead from a tiny rock that appears out of nowhere. The hit is so loud that you would have thought you could hear the wind current it briefly generated while being hurled. The thrower had some talent. After a brief squeeze from the shock on your shoulder, Baji's arm drops from your frame to support his hurting forehead.

"Ow!" When the youngster hollers, Haru is already glaring at him.

"Oops." Haru simply says, causing his partner with the dark hair to frown. He chuckles back and turns to look at Manjiro, who also appears to be smirking just a little.

"Join in the fun, Y/n-san!" Senju cries out while grabbing both of your hands.

You had no idea what in the world you did to attract the girl's attention. In truth, you were unaware of how you got here. The heat was really starting to affect you.

"Yeah! We need more girls!" Emma joins, capturing Senju's arms with her own two hands. You note how the three of you somewhat look like those barrel monkeys, all connected. You bite your inner cheek to suppress a smile.

Your eyes flicker from Baji's gaze to Senju and Emma before returning to Baji. You've run out of falsehoods to tell, and before you arrived here, you were fairly good at it. They were staring at you as you were burning from the sun's excessive brightness.

And that was exactly when it began.

"Fine. Okay, okay."

Emma and Senju both cheer, growing elated that their playing field was becoming more equal. Keisuke forms a toothy grin at the prospect of having one more person join their game, a new neighbour at that, nonetheless. Manjiro's gaze remains situated on the group, not bothering to move from his position, and Haruchiyo throws a glance his way.

Hot burns in your head. You hadn't planned on meeting four new individuals over the course of the weekend, three of whom were rather keen on welcoming you into their little circle. While Emma pulls on your arm, you allow your gaze to fall on her brother. While you weren't anticipating special treatment, he was the only one who paid you no attention. Sincerely, you believed that Keisuke, Senju, and Takeomi were more outgoing and curiously open than him. His response seemed reasonable and reassuring to you.

You hope Manjiro ignores you always.

"Who's gonna be the seeker?" Emma asks.

"Haru! 'Cause I caught him first the last time!" Keisuke states, which earns him a glare from the rose-haired boy.

"That works for me," Manjiro says in his first sentence since you got here. You would've liked dwelling in your shock a little while longer, but Haru instantly turns around, not before rolling his eyes, and covers them with his hands.

It all happens so fast. The two little girls beside you squeal with excitement, already starting to back away from the group. Keisuke sports a wild grin as well, mentally preparing his hiding spot. Manjiro leaps off of his rock to land right in front of you.

"How much do I count till'?!" Haru yells.

"Thirty!" Keisuke hollers, his voice distant.

You turn towards Emma and Senju, only to find that the girls have already disappeared. Baji was already running far too quickly for you to catch up, and suddenly you found that your cheeks were too hot under the sun. Your stomach churns in anxiety. It was like your feet were stuck to the ground.

Suddenly, a tug on your wrist snaps you out of your trance. Eyes widening, you’re forced to twist your body towards the intrusion, and your eyes meet with a mop of blonde hair. They travel downwards towards your hand to find it engulfed in his. You barely have time to spare Shinichiro and Takeomi a glance, but they watch with surprise as Manjiro drags you further away.

One moment, you are drowning in sunlight. The next, you’re overtaken in darkness, and a wooden door shuts behind you.

As your eyes adjust to the sudden shift in lighting, you find that you’re in a garden shed, and notice wall space between a shelf at which you decide to lean against.

It seems as though you were the only one out of breath, as the blond boy in front of you casually leans against the door. You have both come face-to-face now. It's intimate, not in the romantic way. It was quiet, the sound of the heat permeating through the wooden boards. Light floods in through the cracks, you can feel a little bit of the warmth on your cheeks. Playing with your thumbs, you do not dare look so freely towards Manjiro as he does to you. Your heart pounds against your ribcage from anxiety. You want to peel your skin off and take a dip in cold water to get rid of this feeling.

Finally, the culprit who caused you such emotions, is the one to put out your fire.

"You suck at hiding. You’ve never played hide an’ seek before?'' His voice is soft when he insults you so casually.

You lift your head to finally make eye contact with him. You can hear wind chimes in the distance. His eyes are clouded, like he was hiding a million secrets in them.

Furrowing your brow out of frustration, you look down at your feet, "I— I never wanted to play."

“Why’d ya say yes, then?”

His question makes heat rise in your chest. You look down, placing a cool hand on your face.

“I.. I dunno.”

The garden ornaments from outside send a pleasant tune to float in the atmosphere. A slight breeze bellows in from the cracks, You tried relaxing yourself by tilting your head upwards, closing your eyes. But your moment of peace is short-lived.

"You dropped this too."

At the sound of Manjiro's voice, you turn your head to him once more, only to notice a familiar red hair band you recall you tied your hair with this morning.

"Oh," your eyes twitch, something of a smile-perhaps formed out of anxiety-painting your features, "Uh…, ah — sorry."

Staring at the hair tie with eager eyes, you suspect the boy to give it back to you any time soon. But he simply stands there, holding it firmly in his hand. His eyebrows are slightly raised, and it almost looks like he is awaiting a statement to be said from you.

"Can I have it back?" You murmur.

You watch Manjiro rather intently. A resounding quietness befalls them. You note how it looked as though gears were moving behind his eyes, as though he was pondering on what to say next. Perhaps he was not as indecisive as you had first suspected him to be. Every move he made was a calculation he made in mere seconds — which made him all the more terrifying.

“Beg for it.”

You blink. Manjiro only smiles at your colourless expression.

“Don’tcha want it back?”

Your heart starts to race. You want to go home. You don’t like this. He’s smiling like it’s funny. You feel like crying sort of, because you know he is making a joke of you. But you don’t. Because Mama said big girls don’t cry.

“What? Lost your voice?” He mocks again.

You murmur something under your breath. He raises an eyebrow. You murmur it again, pinching your palm with four fingers to calm the panic in your chest. Manjiro crosses his arms, leaning back smugly.

“Hah? What? I can’t hear ya.”

You look up at him with furrowed eyebrows.

“You’re mean. I don’t like you.”

Manjiro blinks soundly. He doesn’t insult you, but he doesn’t give back your hair band. He simply stands there, staring at you. He seems to slump back at your insult. You think to yourself — has anyone spoken up against him?

He doesn’t say another word the entire time. The cicadas’ chirping fills the resounding silence.

You can hear the screams of Emma and Senju, no doubt Haruchiyo had discovered their hiding spot. When you can sense bodies from outside approaching the garden shed, Manjiro stands up straight and walks towards you. You, instinctually take one step back. You can’t be close to boys — especially not one like him.

He looks at you with an expression you cannot describe. It silences the beating of your heart.

"Here," Manjiro utters, grabbing your hand with one hand and manoeuvring it so that your palm opens — which he then places the hair tie on.

You are left staring at your open hand, confused at Manjiro's actions. He keeps your hand in his hold for exactly three more seconds, before releasing it. You keep your hand there for a few more moments, trying to register what exactly had just concurred.

A moment passes. Then another. And another. Manjiro scratches at the scab on his elbow, looking down at his sandals. You pretend you don't notice. You can’t really think, anymore.

Haruchiyo finds you both. He interrogates Manjiro on why he was hiding with you, to which the former tells him to shut up. Emma stares at you with bewilderment, which morphs into childish amusement at the prospect of her older brother taking a liking to you. She teases you, hooks her arms around yours and drags you back to their house.

You fiddle with the hair tie. Manjiro was weird. You wanted to go home.

You take a long, cold shower the following morning.

You were no longer children. You had lost all contact with your once friends, never having the gall to introduce yourself once more. Shinichiro-san had died from a car accident the same year your mother had passed — and neither of you had been the same since. Manjiro had grown rough and you had grown cold. You will never get those grievances back, and everyone had just expected one day for you to be alright with such a thing.

You liked to play pretend for their sake, be a small, nice little girl for their comfort — and ignore the incessant rock in your throat that had lodged itself there, stuck for fifteen years.

But with each passing season it only seemed to grow — to suffocate you more and more than the previous years.

You cry under the water with the stone.

Will it ever go away?

The next day, Manjiro begins the conversation. Perhaps it was because you had been acting like a shell of your former self since the aforementioned recalling of your adolescence. Maybe it was because of the cold weather. Regardless of the reason, it was during breakfast — over savoury bowls of tamago gohan — while you were seated across one another under the single kotatsu because that is all he could afford.

You feel like a stray cat he has taken in. The utter irony of it all.

You felt Manjiro’s eyes on you for ten minutes before he pointed his chopsticks at you disparagingly and spoke through a mouthful of warm rice and egg.

“You’re shaking.”

You huff at his audacity, gazing down at your bowl before bringing a bite of rice to your mouth, “Am I?”

Of course, he does not answer. Because he is Manjiro Sano who is nosy, loud and fastidious. He is Manjiro Sano who never finishes what he starts and leaves you to pick up the pieces. You never considered yourself particularly tough before encountering him.

Setting your half empty bowl down, you choose to question him.

“Why did you move to Osaka?”

Manjiro doesn’t answer. Rather, he turns his head to the open engawa, and pretends to care for the sakura petals that fall off the tree branch. You furrow your brow, setting your chopsticks down in your bowl.

“What about everyone else in Tokyo?” You inquire once more.

Thirty seconds pass. You wait, knowing an answer is going to come. The first shove was complimentary, the second prod was real — at least that was how it worked when Manjiro was 16.

“What about them?” He huffs, taking a sip of his morning beer, “They all know my address.”

You bite back a smile — afraid that if you were to show amusement he would only take it as a sign to continue dismissing your concerns. Manjiro had changed but his small little idiosyncrasies remained hidden. A selfish part of you is delighted at the notion that — despite your anxieties — you had truly not forgotten him.

“Don’t you ever feel…,” you bunch your hands together, “lonely?”

His next answer comes naturally. “Nah, think it’s ‘cause it’s new to me.”

“Right,” you shake your head, laughing, “ha— right, right.”

You look down at your bowl. Of course, what were you expecting? Manjiro was nothing like you. He was loud compared to your quiet. Captious to your carelessness. Unlike you who fretted over such illogical matters he would barely put any thought behind even those affairs which required them.

“Do you feel lonely?”

You lift your face up a tad too quickly and despairingly at his question. He’s looking at you with a blank slate of an expression, and it is in this moment you wish he would return to being unserious. You feel like you are in that very garden shed he’d hid you both in.

You force a laugh, “What? No— no. I—… no… No.”

An awkward silence descends upon you both yet again. The chirping of a little ringed plover fills the room. You think, or at least you try to with Manjiro staring daggers into your side profile. Wrapping the blanket he had given you tighter around your frame, you take a deep breath.

“What about… Keisuke and the others?” You ask, tentatively. His name sounds so odd on the tongue. You don’t think you have said it out loud for nine years now.

Manjiro huffs a chuckle, and you mellow.

“I visit him the first of every month. We all show up at his place,” he explains soundly, bending his left leg and wrapping his arms around it, “And his mother every two weeks. But she likes to be left alone.”

You stare at his hand that scratches at his foot. By Keisuke’s mother he most definitely meant her grave. The woman had always been an eccentric character in your childhood. She made the most delicious rice cakes and warabi mochi. You recall the memory with a solemn grin. She passed away two years ago. You hadn’t even known — only realised she was gone when Manjiro had told you nonchalantly in passing while you were preparing breakfast how much he misses her omurice.

You had burnt your index finger that day, and hid the mark from him.

A wind passes by into the house. The wind chimes sing a familiar tune, and you are surprised to notice that they are the very ones the Sanos had back in Tokyo.

You haven’t confronted yourself in a while. She scared you. Maybe confronting this monster inside will soothe this ache within you — you reason.

“I’d— I’d like to go. I’d like to visit them soon.”

Manjiro’s stare which was directed on his foot moves to meet your eyes. He looks at you for three seconds, scratching at his wrist. He stares at you in a way that silently asks you — ‘Are you sure?’ — and your gaze only hardens; with determination or fear, you can’t really choose.

Manjiro nods.

“Alright.”

He picks up your dishes and places them in the sink for you to wash. This is your routine.

You follow him to the kitchen, standing awkwardly behind the island as he looks at the plates he has put. His hands clench around the metal. He looks up at you once more.

“Alright, we will.”

You reach Shibuya at 9:26pm by car.

When you step out of the passenger seat and onto the road where Manjiro parked, the wind that greets you is warm, for November, at least.

An overwhelming wave of anxiety invades your stomach. Suddenly, the warm air does not help you. You feel like someone has set you on fire. Each step you take towards Keisuke’s home — a large house you have never even thought would belong to someone of his stature — your heart pounds erratically. Manjiro’s resounding footsteps following behind you only add to the reality of the situation. You want to go home. You should have never come.

A hand on your shoulder stops you in front of the door.

“You’re shaking,” Manjiro’s voice states the similar expression back in Osaka. You stare into his eyes, trying to ground yourself.

“Am I?”

“Yeah,” his eyebrows furrow in a mature sense of concern — it is so unlike his past self, “You know, you don’t have to meet them. I can tell them you got sick.”

Your mind manages to eat the information he is feeding you. Once it has consumed every morsel you shake your head. You wipe your clammy hands against your pants — you note how Manjiro’s eyes follow them wherever they go.

“No,” you breathe with a shaky tone, folding your arms across your chest, “No, I—I’m good.”

You shrug his hand from off your shoulder, taking a deep breath in. You haven’t been in this neighbourhood for nearly eleven years. It’s only natural that you are a bit nervous. Manjiro does not look quite convinced. You look behind your shoulder to find him, unmoving and unentertained. You leer into his hazel coloured eyes.

“I promise, I’m fine. Let’s go.”

You tell him for the final time, walking to the entrance of Keisuke’s surprisingly old-fashioned home.

You don’t even have to knock on the door, someone opens it for you from inside. You crane your head up to meet a pair of aquamarine eyes. A small smile traces itself onto your features.

Haruchiyo speaks before you can — he has always had the habit of doing that; taking the first step ahead in the riverbank you liked to explore together, the first bite of freshly sliced watermelon, and the first one to make fun of your mother’s death.

He stares at you like you never even left — like you were coming back from the grocery store.

“The hell happened to you?”

Your smile only grows. “Hi, Haru.”

Tiny pleasantries greet you, and — oddly — Haruchiyo’s arms do, as well. He is even taller than he was back in junior high school. His hair is longer and he still manages to stand out everywhere he travels. You can vaguely sense Manjiro entering from behind you — but you don’t have a lot of time to dwell in his presence. Not when Haruchiyo brings you to the living room. They are watching baseball, the kotatsu is out, stray chips and half empty beer cans litter the surface.

You have never felt more at home.

Keisuke and Ken lift their gazes from the television to you at the same time, when a home run is scored. You smile wearily, and they return it with a grin of their own.

“Y/n…” Keisuke is the first to speak, standing up and approaching your unassuming frame. He looks into your eyes for three seconds — an odd gesture, given that he never waited before — before enveloping you in a warm hug.

You grab his back almost too quickly. It only lasts five seconds but you feel the familiar heat in your stomach return — the one you had carried since ten years of age.

He asks how you have been. You murmur a solemn fine and compliment his home. He bashfully explains how Chifuyu had planned out the interior and exterior designs, and informs you of the fact that Kazutora is with him down in Hokkaido — getting supplies for their pet shop.

Keisuke is much more refined and mellow compared to his former self. His spontaneous nature and wild energy scared you at age ten, and treated you softly at sixteen — when the only boy whose presence did not scare you, was his. Even now, with a few grey strands in his hair, he is gentle and kind — offering you whiskey soda, somehow guessing your favourite drink after a decade apart.

Haruchiyo and Ken tease Manjiro in the kitchen. You overhear everything about him even when you do not want to — even as you are engaged in a conversation with your childhood friend.

“Oi, oi, Mikey. You cut your hair?”

“Ohh, he did, wouldja look at that.”

“Shut up.”

They return with more beer cans. Keisuke sits on the floor next to you on the couch. Ken’s eyes fall on your frame the same time your gaze falls on him.

“Hi.., Ryuguji,” your tone sounds sad. You didn’t mean for it to come out that way.

“Y/n…,” the widowed man returns your smile with one of his own, handing you a can of beer, “Please, call me Ken.”

You stare at it. You stare at him. You don’t know how he does it. The grief doesn’t line his face nor eyes the same way yours does — and it was fresh and new. It still stung and he deserved to feel upset. You did not, you had moved across the ocean and forgotten everyone because of yours — and yet it brought you back to square one, right on a sofa bed somewhere in Tokyo.

You put away your thoughts, locking them beside the incident in the garden shed many years ago. It could be dealt with later.

For now, you take the beer can from Ken’s hands with trembling fingers — praying he cannot tell you want to run.

“Okay,” you whisper.

Dinner is lovely. Warm pork ribs purchased from a local restaurant, spinach salad with sesame, sunomono, and many warm bowls of rice are shared amongst the five of you. You feel Manjiro’s gaze fall on you every so often — almost as if he was trying to assess and read your emotions, to be there to catch you when you fall. It feels odd, every time he looks your way. Every time he does, you clench your beer can tighter.

You do not know why he cares for you so. You are not going to give him what he wants. You can’t, right now.

After dinner, you step out of the golden lighting of the living area to the engawa that opens up to the small square area of greenery. American porch lights hang on the tall pillars holding up the structure of the house, and your eyes instantly fall on the small koi pond installation on the right of the green.

You vaguely hear Keisuke and Haruchiyo yell at each other from inside. You walk barefoot on the grass. You feel like an oversized child.

The creaking of the floor boards alerts you towards the open entrance. You turn as Ken approaches you. His lips are laid flat — and he pretends he doesn't even see you. You appreciate this about him. He’s never made you uncomfortable.

You think you should say something for both of your sakes. Spill the milk and clean it already.

So, you — the ever awkward — murmur softly towards the koi fish, “You’re all so… taller.. now.”

Ken huffs a laugh, standing next to you now. His shows are on, though.

“Maybe you just shrunk.” He jokes. You smile.

“Perhaps,” you respond, “I heard that the weather in New York does that to one.”

For a while, you both stand there. A congenial silence befalls on you both. The wind chimes play a foreign tune. The smell of whiskey, cigarettes and fried pork are carried with the wind. It feels the same way a full stomach does.

A couple moments later, Ken mutters to you, turning his head to gaze down, “You look lovely, tonight.”

You turn your head, too. Since he is now looking at you you suppose you should do the same. It is only customary, after all.

“Thank you… thank you.” You stutter, taking a good look at his features.

His five o'clock shadow is more prominent, only half of his being illuminated by the patio lights. The familiar dragon tattoo is as prominent as ever, but his hair is a dark black now. You wonder if Emma had anything to do with it. When you look at him, you start to think of her.

So you look back down at your feet. It hasn’t snowed in Tokyo yet. You are grateful it is not as cold.

“The weather here is great, though.”

Ken sighs, breathing in the night breeze, “Yeah...”

This time the silence is a little awkward, so you do not prolong it.

“Whose idea was it to install a koi pond and these patio lights?” You force a laugh, trying to make him smile again. It seems to work.

“Ah,” Ken brings a hand to the back of his head, scratching at his neck, “Sana had always wanted fish…, but Emma was allergic. So we had compromised to have them at Baji’s — so she could visit them.”

Your face pales a little at the mention of his daughter. You recall seeing pictures of her on Emma’s social media accounts. You had congratulated her briefly then went on about your day. Your mind had not even recalled her — how shitty of a person were you?

Ken breaks you out of your departure.

“I think the lights were Kazutora’s idea, though.”

You laugh at this, albeit an uncomfortable one. You knit your hands together. Maybe you should ask about her —he would not have brought it up if he did not want to.

“How is she?”

The koi fish in the pond move more rapidly as you pose the question, almost as though they felt the tension and wanted to relieve it. Ken pockets his hands and grins as he looks down at his reflection in the water, his eyes drifting from his, to yours.

“She’s doing alright. Left her at her friend’s house for a sleepover.”

You breathe a sigh of relief — one you did not realise you were holding. “That’s nice…”

You look around the scenery, trying to rack your mind for more conversation starters. You had not done this in a while — let alone consoling your once best-friend’s husband, who was now a widower. You were never really that close to Ken, you momentarily recall the few times you did interact; which happened to always be through Emma. You never quite had a problem with, you were happy for her — you truly were. Now that the one virgule connecting you both had gone, it was up to both of you to hang on to another. You wanted to be there —you knew Emma would have wanted that.

You don’t even realise the statement that leaves your mouth next is about her until it just slips out.

“She would’ve loved tonight.”

The dark-haired man only looks down, eyes solemn but a cheeky smirk plastered on his features. He chuckles, “She would’ve dragged me outta the house ‘cause I’d say no.”

You grab for his hand, noticing that the look in his eyes is all too similar to the one in yours.

“So why’d you say yes?”

Ken does not answer, but his fingers press deeper into your palm. Not enough to elicit blood — but it might as well have been.

“I— I don’t really know. I guess I thought it would make me feel better,” he laughs through a choke and you can only nod, knowing all too well how he feels. You don’t know how long you stand there, holding his hand in yours. A breeze you felt in Osaka bellows past you both.

Manjiro takes you back to his home, and you feel at peace — like you have done something right.

Osaka culture is dissimilar to Tokyo’s. Manjiro Sano is much different than The Invincible Mikey. But you were all the same.

A part of you thinks that is why the two of you attracted one another the way you did, many suns ago. Another irrational side of you believes that is why you have not been able to hold eye contact with Manjiro for longer than fifteen seconds since dinner at Keisuke’s home. You don’t know if you lack sexual appeal or if Manjiro’s libido has declined, but he has grown more… comfortable, around you, so to say; walking around with no shirt on and wearing sweatpants that hang too low on his waist.

To keep your mind occupied, you have taken on laundry duty.

You hum a tune to the melody your mama would sing to you sporadically throughout your adolescence, seated on the floor of Manjiro’s closet with his fresh laundry sprawled about the carpet.

Your phone rings. You take a look at it — it is an unknown caller. Craning an eyebrow, you finish folding the shirt you currently hold and pick it up.

“Hello?” You mutter into the speaker first.

The voice you hear makes your stomach drop. A heat begins to rise in your head.

“Y/n.”

Your eyes widen in disbelief. You take your phone off from your ear, check to see if you are actually currently in a call with someone, and put it back.

“…Ryuchi?”

An all too familiar exasperated sigh leaves the caller’s mouth. That is when you realise your assumptions were correct: your ex-fiancé is real and true.

“Fuck— Y/n, shit.”

Ryuchi utters your name like it is a disease — like it hurts his tongue. It is why you cannot put the phone down — why you cannot hang up.

“You know the fucking things I had to…—” his voice becomes a whisper, like he is trying to hide that he is conversing with you from someone, “you know how difficult it was to get a hold of you?”

You place a hand on your ankle, scratching at the scab there — willing it to open, “Ryuchi, why… Why are you calling?”

He doesn’t speak for three seconds, and it terrifies you. He always did that — when he was angry with you. He would never want to communicate until his emotions would reach their precipice and even then, it would require several pushes from you to draw his reactions. As such, those nudges had always led to him shifting the blame on you.

You had learned to live with it. Mama lived with Papa that way, before he left. But she was not allowed to leave first. She would have to stay until he did not want her anymore — and you would do the same thing with Ryuchi. Be it a hole to fuck or in those very soft, sentimental moments, a woman for him to hold — you would give your everything. You didn’t care about his wealth, you didn’t care about yourself. Why would you? He was everything — he was your World, it was how he wanted it so you would give it to him and not think twice.

Then, Ryuchi starts.

“Wha— What the fuck are you talking about?” He laughs, it sounds scary, “You— where the hell are you? Why— Why the fuck did you cancel your lease?”

You chew on your bottom lip. You hate how soft your voice comes out when you ask him again, “Ryuchi, why are you calling?”

A scoff, followed by a, “Do I need a reason to be calling my fuckin’ fiancée — are you kidding me?” rings on the telephone, but all you hear after the word fiancée is white noise.

You remember it vividly. How he had broken things off. You remember him calling you to buzz him up to your new apartment, the one you wanted him to move in with since he was still living in a bachelor’s flat with his friends. You remember opening the door to his solemn face — and you had remembered knowing that it had ended before he told you himself: ‘This is not going to work. Not anymore. Not with you.’ How could you ever forget those words?

You hadn’t cried. You hadn’t even felt mad. You just thought about the papers you had wasted printing your engagement cards. You thought about what everyone would think of you — thought about how mama would be so upset with you for not giving your life and soul to his relationship.

You had heard her voice that day. It was cold.

After a moment, you murmur a flat, “What?” Your breathing begins to pick up, “I… I thought—”

You don’t say anything else. You don’t really know how to. Ryuchi was smarter than you — right? He could pick up the pieces and fix the puzzle.

He does.

“Holy shit—,” he chuckles darkly, his tone then becoming mocking and impassive, “You— you thought I was being serious?”

You don’t realise the words that leave your mouth and escape his.

“You— You asked for the ring back, Ryuchi, Your— Your mother returned the wedding card—.. What— What was I supposed to think?”

“Yeah— yeah—, Cause I was stressed, Y/n. Mother had some qualms with you and I let her get to me. But, I’ve dealt with her now — all for you. I fought for us. Fights like this happen all the time — that... that doesn’t mean you can just get up and walk away.”

They all sound spiteful. You hate arguing. You just wanted to be good. You didn’t want him to do all of this for your sake. You did not need much, you do not know why Ryuchi insisted against that for the longest of times.

He always called you too naive for your own good: but you know what love is.

It is why, after the longest pauses of utter silence taken so far within this phone call, is when you murmur quietly, “Ryuchi, I— I.. I can’t... I.. can’t do this.”

He is on you, instantly.

“What do you mean you can’t?” His voice cracks. You don’t know what to make of it. “I—I miss you. Please. I love you. I love you, baby. You.. you can’t. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Please come back to me — I’ll make it work.”

He can’t. You know he can’t. He’s never needed you, Ryuchi has only ever wanted you in his life. You cannot go back now.

You stare down silently at your hands, fisting Manjiro’s shirt in your palms. The door of the closet is cracked open, streaming in the yellow lighting of the bedroom. It is oddly warm, given the circumstance you find yourself trapped in, unable to move.

When you feel darkness impose on that, you lift your head up. Manjiro stands there, gazing down at your frame. His eyes fall on your cell phone, then on the clothing you crumple.

“Y/n.” Manjiro calls your name. It is soft. His eyebrows are furrowed and you could mistake his worry for how tightly you are gripping his favourite shirt, enough to leave wrinkles.

“Y/n.. please.. don’t do this.” Ryuchi’s whines ring into the speaker. They settle in your ears. Before it would have elated a fire in your stomach, but now it sends a chill up your spine.

You are a bit tired of feeling cold.

“Don’t call me anymore.”

You hang up, stare at Manjiro for a moment, before exiting the closet with his shirt in hand.

You go to the bathroom, and you cry into it. Manjiro doesn’t ask for it back.

You wonder late at night why he is so soft to you.

You think Manjiro began feeling bad for you. He would not leave you alone since the day Ryuchi had called. He’s started to clean up after himself: figuratively and literally. Whereas prior he would leave dish washing duty and laundry to you, you found he would pick up groceries for the dishes you’d plan to make that day — and an expensive brand of detergent you had been eyeing but never had the gall to request.

His steps were small, but left their marks in the ground. You felt supported and seen.

So, the next time he went shopping, you asked him if you could kindly join him. He had told you that if you’d asked sooner, he would have taken you to Tempozan Harbor Village for a picnic.

You refused, saying that your fresh home cooking tasted much better — he hadn’t disagreed — and you ended up going to Tamade Supermarket on a Monday afternoon. The last time you went there you were fifteen and in love with him.

It is funny. How things change.

“I like this shelf,” he states, pointing at a random wooden shelf displayed in the show room.

You nod awkwardly, “It’s a nice shelf.”

It is also nice to be talking to Manjiro like an adult. Although at heart you felt as though you had stopped mentally ageing at 19, it felt good: the idea that he had caught up with you in terms of getting around your hobby of window shopping appliances you can only dream to afford. You do not even care if you are being too loud in the department store. Manjiro made a detour on the way to the supermarket. It feels nice to take up space with someone else. You did not get much interaction like this in your youth; most of your time spent with him was passionate and lustful. Taking things slow was a wonderful change of pace, something you realise your adolescent self would have appreciated though refuted against.

You ponder more about your relationship, admiring the bonsai trees in the garden supplies aisle.

“Didn’t you have a thing for flowers or some shit?” Manjiro asks, pushing the cart up behind you.

You look at him incredulously, with an eyebrow raised in question, “Botany?”

He clicks his tongue, placing his elbows on the cart’s pushing bar and leaning forward.

“Yeah, that.”

“Yeah, well,” you huff a laugh, playing with the leaves of the tree gently, “a bachelor’s in botany is about as useful as a glass hammer.”

“Oh, so it’s shit, then?” Manjro asks rather forwardly.

You snort, and try correcting him. The auntie who strolls past you both looks at you with disgust and Manjiro only makes an even uglier face that makes her run away. “It’d take a lot of time and money. Neither of which I have.”

“That’s why you went into software?”

You think for a second. You look at the flowers you had wanted to plant all over Tokyo as part of your dream adult career when you were 6. How stupid you were, then. It was nice, it had always been better, back then — when you did not know how to tie your shoes or write your name properly in kanji.

“Yeah, pretty much.”

A silence befalls you both. You stand still in the shelves section of this sequestered furniture department store.

“Guess I’m lucky Shin left his shop for me,” he says.

“Yeah,” you say as a response.

Manjiro looks at you. Then he reaches for the shelf, cradling it like it is an infant. Your eyes crinkle up in amusement.

“I’m gettin’ this shelf.”

“Alright,” you huff. “Can we go to the market now?”

He smiles back. You bend your four fingers into your palm when you feel your heart begin to develop a rhythmic thumping against your chest at his expression.

You were not 15.

“Sure.”

But you sure wanted to be.

The next week, Manjiro went to work — and you had taken a long, good look at yourself in the mirror; assessing the damage.

A wrinkle would come on your forehead when you would smile. Crinkles would form near your eyes and at the corners of your lips, too, if you got too excited. Your skin was transparent — showcasing all your emotions whether you wanted it to or not. Truthfully, you preferred it that way. You had hidden too much of yourself when you were young — for no reason. Perhaps out of fear or embarrassment of being seen — is what you could possibly surmise as some reasons. Your features had also hardened since then, odd, considering how much softer you had morphed.

All of your youth, you spent resenting yourself. Too afraid to even look at yourself, at times. But, you were normal. You were not a monster — a pleasant surprise.

As you were eyeing yourself, your eyes hand landed on a pair of scissors in a cylindrical cup on a shelf over the toilet. You had then looked at yourself once more, before grabbing the scissors.

Manjiro comes home in the evening with groceries in hand. A small ‘tadaima’ leaves his lips as he takes his shoes off in the genkan. You appear in the dimly lit hallway, a part of you missing. His eyes, already on you the moment your frame turned the corner, enlarged. You feel your chest tighten and the familiar coil in your stomach tangle.

“You cut your hair,” he breathes softly, like it was a secret.

You approach him. He comes close to you. You are standing taller than he is on the elevated flooring of his home. You smile, a delicate one. “He always preferred long, but I never did.”

A pregnant pause follows. That was the first time you had brought up Him ever since that encounter in the closet. At least voluntarily. You can see Manjiro’s chest deflate, almost as though he had been holding his breath for you to set him free, ever since that day. A part of you hurts at the notion that he still cared for you. Another, more selfish and attention-starved piece of you thrived.

The clock you purchase him ticks. Manjiro’s nose is red and his eyes are wet from the cold. You see him lift up his hand — it is shaking but you do not stop him or inform him of that.

He cups your cheek. His hands are cold against your warmth. He murmurs, softly and true, “You look nice.”

You look down, suddenly feeling like a teenager again.

“Thank—Thank you…”

Manjiro’s actions do not register in his mind until your discomposure. He looks at his hand like he has committed a crime and snatches it away. You are troubled by how much his disappearance bothers you.

“Sorry— I—.”

“It’s okay,” You cut him off halfway, giving him a tight-lipped smile. What were you thinking was going to happen? You grab the grocery bags he had set down and walk inside. “I’ll start dinner.”

It is not after dinner he touches you again. It is late in the night, when the moon has reached its high and the cicadas reach their crescendo. You are laid on the tatami, turned on your side and admiring the melting snow on the sakura trees outside. Your head lays on your left arm, the right one traces patterns into your own skin.

You feel someone behind you. You turn, and see Manjiro.

His gaze reads sorrowful. The rims of his eyes are red. Though he is shirtless and resembles a man, he looks like he is eighteen again when he cries like this, in front of you. It has only ever happened once, when you saw him like this. You had run into him, rather than the other way around — like this.

Manjiro had grown mad. You had grown scared. You were both so stupid and naive back then.

You sit up, your covers bunching at your waist as they fall. You call for him, your tone only but a whisper.

“Manjiro,” you call for him, the clouds finally parting, letting the moonlight flow into the quaint living room and paint his features.

You knew it was coming — it was only a matter of time. Heated stares shared across the too large kotatsu, limbs entangling underneath for ‘warmth’ — they were all a rouse.

A teardrop falls onto your face, as the last sakura petals of Spring shake off the tree branch outside, and meet their wilted brothers and sisters on the dull green of the grass.

“Y/n…” He speaks, ever so softly, as though afraid of breaking through your skin.

Manjiro sounds so sad. He bends onto his knees in front of you. You stare into his brown. A shiver runs down your spine, from both the cold and his close presence. You had realised you had been mentally awaiting for this to happen. It was only natural — like moths to a flame. Suddenly, the tatami mat beneath you is non-existent. You feel like you are floating — like you are in Mr. Nakamoto’s linear algebra classroom, about to receive your first kiss from the boy who’s ruffian behaviour scared you, before. Looking at him now — ten years after heartbreak and uprooting your life — only now you have realised his softness.

“Yes?” You whisper, knowing it was too late — but also knowing Manjiro would never care. It would never bother him like it would to you.

“Y/n,” his voice cracks, he places his hands around your frame, encompassing you everywhere. He calls for you again, his voice only a whisper — almost as though Manjiro were afraid that if he were to raise it any louder you would leave him once more, “Y/n.”

“It’s okay,” you murmur, laying down as he begins to move over your frame and bring your covers up, “it’s alright.”

You take Manjiro into your arms; his sharp teeth at your neck, his warm hands feverishly running up the cold skin of your stomach under his shirt you wear, his blonde hair in your fingers, him, inside of you and you holding onto him for dear life — irrevocably — and he leans into them.

His introspection arrives the morning after he has laid with you — it comes gently and ordinarily. You would not have even known he was opening up to you, if not for the seldom look-aways and hiccups he’d let out every now and again. Metaphorical, of course. But they might as well have been real — it’s too easy for you to discern them.

It scares you, the idea of being a form of his recluse.

You wake up, and he is already staring at you. Your cheek rests on his bicep. His eyes form into crescent moons when you look at him. A warmth rises to your cheeks. You unconsciously hide your hands underneath the covers.

Some birds are chirping outside: for some reason they have not gone to warmer climates. Manjiro is still staring at you — like you are hiding something. You gaze at him, your lips lifting up at the side, unable to hide your amusement and giddiness for some reason. You feel like a small child in his arms; like an excited seventeen year old who had passed their driving test with his guidance. You feel like you were always meant to be here — next to him.

It feels nice. Which is why it confuses you when he asks.

“What?”

You hum. “Hm?”

“You’re hiding something,” he says.

“Huh? What?”

Manjiro grabs at your hands covered by the blanket. He finds the top and kneads it with his thumb. It sends a thumping to your chest.

He grins at you, curious, as he questions, “What’s in your hands?”

Your eyes widen, ever so slightly. Manjiro was always watching you. Usually attention would bother you. You hated explaining yourself. But his attention elicits a warmth in your stomach that sends the same pleasure as drinking a warm cup of coffee.

You think your cheeks are dark as you murmur, a small, “Nothing.”

Manjiro clutches your hands in his, smiling. “Then why do you keep hiding them like that?”

“Have I?”

“Yeah,” he scoffs, rustling a little under the covers. The duvet falls to expose his bare stomach. Suddenly you grow hyper aware of the fact that you are both naked. You are even more shocked to find yourself not caring to know the whereabouts of your underwear.

“S’been driving me insane. Thinking you’ve stolen something of mine.”

You feel yourself smiling from one side. “If I had you wouldn’t have found out so easily.”

“Hn.”

You laugh a little at the tiny sound of hesitancy and distrust. Manjiro was so cute. You rustle under the covers, pressing your hands closer to your chest. You hold them together. They are cold against your breasts, and when you press them too hard to the bite and kiss marks left over your skin by the man you lay with, you feel yourself growing shy under his gaze.

“It’s… a habit,” you measly whisper, “I don’t know why.”

Manjiro places a hand on your cheek, brushing your hair behind your ear. “Yeah, you do.”

You sigh and look away. “It’s silly.”

Manjiro brings your face back down to look at him. He looks so serious. You don’t know whether to be flustered or afraid. Perhaps both.

“Tell me.”

You cast your gaze downwards. It was stupid.

“I— ah, you know,” you swallow, “Haruchiyo… used to tease how stubby my fingers were.” You explain, purposefully letting out the part he was involved in. Although you had lost the baby fat and were 29, you do not know why your brain chose to hold onto such an inane insult. You were barely 11 when you were told that. How come you do not remember the good things?

Manjiro looks at you with guilt. Your eyes widen. He remembers, too. You look down, again — feeling embarrassed for even bringing it up in the first place.

“I— uh— it’s whatever…, I also never liked my hands.”

He shakes his head, and rests his forehead in the crook of your neck and shoulder. You still.

“Shit,” he grunts, arms wrapping around your frame, “I’m a dumbass.”

You feel your heart jump. You don’t think it’s ever done that before. You like how rough Manjiro’s hands feel against your skin.

“It’s okay,” you whisper, reluctantly bringing a hand up to brush the back of his hair.

He slightly pulls away, looking into your eyes. You feel his feet brush your ankle.

“It’s not, though.” he says, “How could I—,” Manjiro stops himself midway.

He continues to look at you. You feel his eyes travel to your cheeks, the mark under your eye he gave you accidentally when you were 13 and taking turns jumping into a neighbourhood lake you stumbled upon (he had pushed you in because you were afraid — scraped your face against a rock — you had never seen him look so regretful and scared). You look at him — at the light stubble on his chin, the scars running on his cheeks, be it from his time as a delinquent in his youth or from motorcycle work at the shop he runs right now. You wonder where all the others came from while you were gone. You’d gotten up and left — right when you were getting to know each other. You have no one but yourself to blame, and yet he looks at you like you were a martyr who could do no wrong.

“God, I was a dumbass.” He rasps, sweet and true. He leans in closer. You lean in, too.

He holds you so gently, it makes it so easy to forget whatever you had been worried about before your reunion. Warm thumbs brush your cold cheeks — you feel small but you can burst through the seams from this warmth.

“How could I have not seen how beautiful you were?”

His lips brush yours and his voice is raspy smooth when he asks the rhetorical question. You blush and tilt back. Your eyes shift to the open engawa behind him, to Manjiro’s face. You lift your hands from underneath the covers, and place them on top of his.

“You like me.” You soundly state.

“Yeah,” Manjiro admits, “yeah I do. I like you very much. But you don’t need to worry. That’s something I have to deal with.”

His confession elicits something in you. Something that seemed to have been festering for a while, waiting to be awakened by only him. You feel safe. You do not want to run away. Manjiro knows exactly what to say.

The admission causes a silence to fall. You break it by opening your mouth and spewing nonsense, as you usually do.

“I… also used to make fun of you.”

Manjiro grins. You blush. “Oh?”

“Yeah. Used to misplace your things when you’d piss me off.” You say, staring up at him through your eyelashes. That was your rebellious phase. Albeit, that had only occurred once — you did not want Manjiro to feel alone in his guilt.

He laughs. You smile. It is that simple.

“That makes us both idiots, then.” He murmurs, leaning in closer. Your lips touch each other, and you are 15 again, in his arms.

“I guess so,” You whisper through a smile, and return it ten-fold — a warm mouth melting you away softly.

February arrives carrying a similar breeze. Snow is starting to melt and Manjiro’s garden is beginning to blossom. You make love in his living room, bedroom, and the shower — when he is busy. You also procured a part-time job at a local firm to finally have the money to purchase your own clothes, instead of lounging in Manjiro’s garments all the time. He leaves often in the afternoons, rarely in the mornings — but he always comes back to you in the evenings. You prepare breakfast, lunch and dinner — but this time an odd sense of romantic domesticity is involved in all of your gestures and being around him. Manjiro is clingy, you have come to find out. In his youth his affections were scarce — but so were yours. You were both scared, hiding your love from one another — maybe out of embarrassment, you presume? Now, he is older and so are you. Manjiro’s hands find themselves around you any and every time you are near him.

It is lovely.

Currently, it is 6:45pm. You are in his closet, arranging his clothes once more. Your eyes land on a box hidden away deep on the lowest level of his shelf. You crane an eyebrow. It has a feminine, intricate design of bellflowers etched into the wood. You note the initials K and E also carved on its top. You reach for it and open it. Your heart falls.

“Found anything interesting?” Manjiro’s voice pierces the silence.

You jump and look towards the door. Much like the day he found you speaking to Ryuchi, he is standing there in his work clothes. Your eyes fall on his face. He does not seem mad. If anything, he seems relieved — almost as though he had left this box out in the open for you to find.

“You’re home,” you breathe.

Manjiro drops the bag in his right hand. He enters the closet and closes the door behind him, sitting down on his knees close to you and placing a chaste kiss on your cheek. You make a noise between a choke and a grunt, but he only caresses your face.

“I’m home,” he whispers softly to you.

You look down at the box resting in your lap. Manjiro’s hands rest on yours, and guide you towards the lock to open it. You look up and gaze at him with uncertainty. He only nods.

“Open it. It’s meant for you.” He encourages, letting go of your hands.

You stare down at the box. Something in your mind tells you that you know it is yours. You open it, and it is true. Silent for a moment, you gaze down at the countless number of bottle caps — from soda and milk brands back in the day — and your stomach twists at how familiar they all look to you.

Then, you remember why that is.

“I can’t believe she still had this…” You murmur. You look up at Manjiro. He looks down into the box and rests a hand on your left one. It is only when he does that that you realise that you had been shaking.

“What is it?”

“Bottle caps,” you utter, breathlessly, “Emma and I… we—we’d buy each other drinks on Wednesdays. A midweek reward,” your voice starts to crack, “I—I’d put aside money from my tutoring job for it.”

The idea that for over a decade, the girl who you thought forgot about you — did not care for you or wonder about you — kept such an odd presence of your reminder in such a delicate box that you know meant a lot to her (the first present Ken has bought her when they started dating), makes you want to cry. You can’t though. Not with him around.

The walk-in closet suddenly feels too small. The tiniest of whimpers leaves your throat. Manjiro cups your cheek again, grounding you from the panic you feel.

“She always cared for you. But, that doesn’t mean she was mad. She was never mad.” He softly speaks.

You can’t say much to that. Emma is dead. She will not even know that you came back for her. You think Manjiro senses that, because he drops it. You set the box down and lean against the shelf, and he copies your actions. Your shoulders are touching. You look down into the box and decide that perhaps organising these bottle caps will make you feel better.

You start putting them into groups on the carpeted floor of the closet. You can feel Manjiro’s eyes on you. A couple of minutes pass just like this, the only sound being the occasional metal of the caps hitting each other and the rain hitting the windows from outside.

“Have you ever been in love?” Manjiro asks.

The question oddly does not take you aback. You reckon that he deserves to know. “I guess… I mean… I was engaged.”

Manjiro’s body stiffens beside you. You continue organising the bottle caps.

“His name was Ryuchi. He was friends with my old roommate's boyfriend.” you murmur, eyebrows furrowed as you recall your past, “I—I don’t even talk to any of them anymore.”

Looking towards Manjiro, you find him already staring at you. You note his hand formed into a fist, and look away.

“I think I liked his smile, so I gave it a try. His mother never liked me,” you laugh a little — not quite out of amusement, “He broke it off in my apartment after four years. A Sunday.”

“I’ll kill him,” Manjiro growls.

You turn your head to look at him and weakly smile. You place your hand over his fist, and it unfolds to grab at your fingers and intertwine them together.

“He’s… not in my life anymore. That’s that.”

“I am.” Manjiro reminds you softly with an accusatory tone of voice. It itself is so contradictory it makes you smile; makes your heart flutter.

You shift closer, so your elbows are touching. Your exposed thighs press up against his. “Yes, you are.”

“Were you upset?”

You move a little in your spot, sighing. “I mean, obviously.”

“Are you still upset?”

“I—I dunno.”

A weird part of you feels relieved, another part wants to murder him and another smaller part wants to die. But you do not say any of that to Manjiro. It feels too weird. The topic shifting from his dead sister to your deadbeat ex-fiancé feels too much.

“But enough about that,” you change the topic, tightening your hold around his hand, “What ‘bout you?”

“Yeah,” Manjiro admits, keeping eye contact with you and coming in even closer. “I have.”

“Oh,” your breath hitches, and you murmur a very awkward, “nice.”

Manjiro is close to your ear. You can feel him breathing down your neck. You shiver. “Y/n?”

“Yeah?”

He presses his forehead against yours, playing with a strand of your hair with his index finger and thumb.

“Y/n…”

He kisses you gently, laying you down softly against the carpet. Hot palms brush the bare skin of your stomach, kissing down your neck — leaving small little messages in their wake. A small mewl of defeat escapes your mouth, which he swallows all too easily— all too greedily. Manjiro is everywhere around you, all at once, shielding you from everything and anything in the small little closet of all his and your belongings. A shirt comes off, then your socks. Fists meet hair and you have never felt so alive despite the incessant biting at your skin and clashing of teeth.

I missed you. Each one seems to speak to you. Never leave me again. They beg.

But — something bigger leaves his mouth. Like a monster that had been hiding in your closet all along — hiding in the garden shed since that very day you met the bane of your existence — something you tried desperately avoiding. You start to cry but only clutch onto him harder, because you had always had a fondness for the ugly creatures in life.

“I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you.”

#fem reader #rapture #writing #manjiro sano x reader #mikey sano x reader #mikey x reader #manjiro x reader

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