#ANOTHER CHAPTER AFTER 84 YEARS!!!

[tothelasthoursofmylife]

“Trains have surpassed ships as the worst type of transportation after all.”

On the way to Paris, France – June 1848

~Cloudia~

June 23

About 10:40

With a hiss and a screech, the train rolled out of the station.

Blood pounded in my head; thoughts and plans swarmed through my mind.

The train would not stop until it reached Paris.

Yvette and Jacques were five wagons ahead.

But where were Townsend, Florentin, and Maxime? And how many of their accomplices were here too?

“Countess,” she heard Cedric’s voice next to her. Only when she turned to face him and saw the wide, worried look in his eyes, did Cloudia realise that he must have called her a few times before she had reacted. His hand was still on her arm, their shoulders brushing against each other in this cramped space.

“They are on this train.” Her heart was racing, she was out of breath, and the words tumbled out of her before she could dwell on them. “I saw Jacques and Yvette boarding the train.”

Cedric’s eyes went wide behind his glasses. Cloudia registered a movement behind him: Aurèle, who stood behind Cedric and Kamden and was folded into this small space by the door with the others, lifted his head at the mention of his brother.

A passenger shoved his suitcase into his cabin and raised an eyebrow at the odd lot by the door before he entered the compartment and closed the door behind him. With the corridor now empty, Cedric gently pulled Cloudia into it. As soon as they stepped into it, the bubble broke, and the others spaced out too. Lisa and Newman remained in the back, whereas Milton stepped a little bit forward, close to Kamden. It was still very cramped – two next to each other was an imposition, three was an impossibility. Now, at least, they weren’t packed like sardines in a can.

“Jacques and Yvette are on this train too. I spotted them entering the wagon five coaches ahead of ours,” Cloudia said. This time she was slightly louder. The thundering of her heart had ebbed into a flicker, waiting in anticipation to re-ignite.

“But didn’t they kidnap Jacques nearly a day ago?” asked Cedric in bewilderment. “And you said Yvette and Maxime left Nanteuil-la-Forêt at about one or two in the morning – how did they arrive in Creil only now?”

“The heavy rain must have slowed them down,” Cloudia mused. “And maybe they did not immediately leave the village after I saw them at the hospital. They could have gone somewhere else within Nanteuil-la-Forêt first and might have been affected by the fire too.”

“That would explain why Maxime and Yvette might have been late but Jacques?”

“My brother isn’t an idiot,” said Aurèle. Cloudia saw Cedric open his mouth before quickly closing it again. “He wouldn’t have led them right to the Clockmaker, even if he was afraid.”

“You mean he could have led them astray first?” Cloudia replied, and Aurèle nodded.

“Cloudie, did you see anyone besides Yvette and…” Kamden wanted to know but his question was cut off by a gunshot and the sound of glass shattering. Cedric yanked Cloudia to the side. She crashed against a compartment door right when the bullet flew past her by a hair’s breadth.

And hit flesh.

A scream tore through the carriage. Cloudia did not turn to check who was hurt. Instead, she swiftly stepped away from the door, her own gun ready in hand – but another shot rang through the air before she could move.

Followed by the sound of metal hitting metal.

And a scream and a curse. Before she turned and confirmed it, Cloudia knew that their assailant hadn’t fired that shot.

Milton lowered his pistol. Though he remained alert, his gaze softened, changed, when he sighed, from concentration to worry. She could see he was about to say something but did not wait for him to speak. Cold realisation having hit her, Cloudia rushed along the corridor to the door at the other end of the wagon.

The clang, the sound of metal clattering against metal.

Of course, Milton had only disarmed the attacker. His gun must have hit the connector bars and was likely now bedded somewhere in the shrubbery behind us.

Which meant that the gunman was still alive.

Glass shards cracked under her shoes as she reached the door. She stared through its broken window to the neighbouring coach, saw the other coach’s door flung wide open and the attacker hastening to the end of the wagon. Cloudia raised her gun, fired once, twice, thrice until she saw him topple over, dead or close.

Cloudia turned to the others, the morning wind from the shattered window cool on her skin. Kamden scrambled to his feet – he must have either thrown himself on the ground or been pushed down – to tend to Aurèle who held his right shoulder, his face a mask of agony. Lisa and Newman walked towards her from the end of the coach. Cedric was still by the compartment door. He jumped to the side and against the windowed wall when the door slightly opened, and a head peeked out. Newman told the woman to stay in the cabin, and she readily obliged.

“I’m sorry, Lady Cloudia, I-” began Milton, who was the only one who had not moved.

“No need to apologise, Milton,” Cloudia cut him off. “You reacted perfectly; I did not expect you to shoot at the man,” she continued. As the words left her mouth, it dawned on her that she had just killed someone right in front of him, and the realisation sent an odd feeling through her. Cloudia mustered his face, but all it reflected was sorrow, a silent apology, not fear, and she recalled his words from earlier. Strange how only hours had passed since; the memory seemed further away. And although she knew that Milton didn’t lie, it was still soothing to be certain that he was not afraid of her.

But…

A thought bloomed in her head, something dark and pointy. Cloudia pushed it away. Later, she told herself; there was no time for that right now.

A shriek vibrated through the air, mixing with the hammering of the open door against the carriage wall and the rattling of the train as it breezed over the tracks. Cloudia glanced back to the other coach and spotted some passengers leaving their cabins and hovering over the body, pointing to the open door.

“That man, that reckless idiot,” said Cloudia to the others, “may not have been able to contact Yvette and Townsend somehow, but the passengers certainly will if enough noticed the corpse and heard the shots. And we don’t know how many of their people are aboard too, and where Townsend, Maxime, or the Clockmaker are.” She reloaded her pistol and pocketed it. “I doubt we can just stay put and wait until we reach Paris to get to Jacques; I suppose we need to go now.”

Cloudia looked at Newman. “I am not sure if the corridors are too narrow for you to move fleetly in,” she said. “I would not mind if you stayed behind, Newman.”

“I understand your concern, Lady Cloudia. However, as a butler, I cannot stand by idly while my mistress brings herself in peril,” replied Newman. “And as the Phantomhive butler, nothing shall be impossible. I will follow you, even if I am slow.”

“Very well,” sighed Cloudia.

“I’ll come too,” Aurèle pressed out from between clenched teeth. “I need to get to my brother.”

“Definitely not,” said Kamden firmly. “The bullet got stuck in your arm. I need to get it out first.”

“You heard that, Aurèle? You’ll stay. Jacques also wouldn’t want you to strain yourself when you’re injured.” Aurèle’s expression darkened, though he did not retort anything to her surprise. Cloudia then levelled her gaze at Milton. “You stay back too, do you hear me? When I agreed to let you come with us, it did not entail this.”

Before she could hear any protests, Cloudia pushed the wagon door open. Keeping her eyes firmly on the wagon ahead of her, not on the tracks below or the world blurring around, she took a run-up and jumped.

***

~Cedric~

June 23

About 10:50

The question of how she meant to go to Yvette and Jacques when the train was moving turned into a horrified “oh” when Cloudia jumped to the other coach. Immediately, Cedric ran to the open door, glass crunching beneath him. He sighed in relief when he saw that Cloudia had landed well and safely on the other side. Without looking back, she walked down the corridor to the terrified passengers.

Cedric turned to the others. When he noticed the expression on Kamden’s face – the wide-eyed horror – he wondered if it was a mirror of his own countenance too. Then, Kamden took a deep breath and returned his attention to Aurèle who looked rather pale and miserable. Blood seeped out from behind his fingers.

“Could you please hold him still, Mr Newman?” asked Kamden, and Newman obliged with a nod. Kamden carefully pried Aurèle’s fingers away and stuffed a cloth into Aurèle’s mouth before he stuck his finger inside the wound without any warning. Cedric winced when he saw that. Aurèle squirmed and shoved Kamden and, miraculously, even Newman away, spitting out the cloth in the process and cursing at Kamden in French.

“I’m sorry but I need to look how deep the bullet lodged,” said Kamden, undeterred.

“But like that?!”

“Yes, it’s either the finger or the probe.”

Kamden opened his bag and before he could pull out the probe, Cedric cleared his throat. He was far too familiar with that infernal metal rod, and he feared Kamden might procure the forceps alongside it for good measure. “K… Emyr, maybe it would be best if you got into a cabin where there are still empty seats. It’s better if Aurèle could sit down, isn’t it?” Cedric said and opened the closest compartment door. A pale-faced woman and a man holding an umbrella in defence stared at him.

“Do you mind…” Cedric started before he remembered that, of course, the couple could not understand him.

“If you may allow me, Your Grace,” said Newman gently before he began talking to the couple who grew paler with every word. Cedric wondered if they would turn translucent, eventually.

“Your Uselessness,” Lisa chuckled as she squeezed past him.

“You don’t know French either, Miss Greene,” Cedric shot back.

Lisa did not react; without another word, she simply followed Cloudia to the neighbouring carriage. Next to him, Cedric heard a half-swallowed, horrified “Lisa,” and when Cedric turned, he saw Newman shaking his head. Nevertheless, when he noticed Cedric’s eyes on him, Newman said tersely, “It is only right for her to follow Lady Cloudia. She can do it more swiftly in this environment than me.”

Cedric nodded. Newman had finished his explanation, and the umbrella-wielding man and his wife now hurried to gather their belongings. They, apparently, did not want front-row seats for an amateur bullet removal. Cedric watched them briefly before he shifted away from the cabin and noticed that pieces of rope were now dangling from the ceiling in a line by the windows. He stared up at the ceiling and saw that part of it had opened, letting the ropes fall out. Bewildered, Cedric looked around to the others, an enquiry on his lips. He halted upon noticing Milton knock on a compartment door. The door tentatively opened, and he spoke a few words with the woman. Cedric could not understand anything besides the final “Merci” (he recognised the word from the chocolate brand) before the door was drawn shut again.

With whatever he had wanted to do done, Milton walked to the open door. Unlike Aurèle who had slowly made his way away from Kamden and his probe and was now uneasily mustering the space between the carriages, Milton seemed unfazed when he looked outside. Alarmed by the look in his eyes, Cedric called his name and hurried to him.

It was such a small space, only a few metres, a few steps, from one end of the wagon to the other but Cedric was still too late to stop Milton.

Thankfully, Aurèle wasn’t.

Just when Milton was about to take a run-up, Aurèle grabbed his arm and yanked him back and against a cabin with impressive force considering his injury.

“You,” Aurèle hissed at Milton when Cedric reached them, “are meant to stay behind. Didn’t you hear my cousin tell you that?”

“I heard Lady Cloudia,” replied Milton calmly. He held Aurèle’s gaze, meeting his eyes with an expression so oddly hard and intense it felt foreign on Milton’s face. “Only I have no intention to stay put. She had one condition for me accompanying you all and that was that I would stay safe. And I agreed. Lady Cloudia only told me to remain behind because she thinks it would be unsafe, but I assure you I will be perfectly fine. You should also not have done that; you are only worsening your injury.”

“Aurèle, let him go,” said Cedric before Aurèle could retort anything.

“Yes, Aurèle,” Kamden added, joining them by the door. “Let him go. They vacated the cabin; now come. The bullet shouldn’t be inside you for too long.”

Scowling and grumbling, Aurèle took a step back and followed Kamden into the compartment. When the door was closed behind them, Cedric said, “Milton, I hope you’re well-aware that the Countess’ current plan of action is to jump between coaches on a running train until she reaches a bunch of criminals. One slip-up between wagons and you’re dead.” As soon as those words had slipped out, they dragged Cedric to the truth he had been ignoring for the last few minutes, ever since Cloudia had left their wagon.

One slip-up, one fall, one push, and Cloudia was dead.

“Kristopher,” Milton said with such gentleness that Cedric knew that his face had betrayed his thoughts. “There is no time to argue, is there? And I promised her, as I will promise you and whoever else I must, that I will keep myself safe.”

Cedric glanced to the other carriage. Cold fingers traced his spine when he saw that Lisa and Cloudia had already headed to the next one. “Very well,” said Cedric with gritted teeth. “Let’s go, Milton.”

***

~Cloudia~

June 23

About 10:50

Reckless, brash, idiotic, it swirled through my mind while I was airborne.

A moment ago, there had been rattling but firm ground under my feet. Now, there was nothing at all. I had jumped out of windows and carriages before, had felt the wind catch me, tear at my hair and clothes, force me down or sideways before.

But none of those memories fit with the sensation that overcame me now, in this moment, this second, this blink in which I was flying.

From one coach to another; metal beasts shrieking through the landscape with dozens of kilometres per hour.

Over a space only two, three steps wide and still as large as a canyon’s divide.

And then my feet touched the platform, and the moment was gone.

Cloudia grabbed the metal bars; the train hissed in anger at this violation of locomotive etiquette. Adrenaline pumped through her when she let go of the metal railing to stand properly on the small platform. The platforms on each end of a wagon were connected to a small set of stairs and possessed a simple bannister with an open gap on the side that faced the next coach. As if, despite locomotive etiquette, one was meant to jump between coaches.

Without looking back – she did not need to turn to know that Kamden and the others must have horror written all over their faces – Cloudia entered the carriage. Inside, three passengers were standing by the corpse, blocking the entire narrow walkway, and talking to one another with increasingly disturbed, panicked voices. Four more passengers were hovering on the doorsills to their cabins, their faces ashen and shocked as they stared at the body.

Straightening her back and squaring her shoulders, Cloudia approached the three men by the body and asked them to step aside for a moment. Puzzlement bloomed across their faces, mixed with their panic; still, one of the men stepped halfway into a compartment, allowing Cloudia to kneel by the corpse.

“I would recommend returning to your cabins,” she implored the men in French. “Or you might end up like that man here.” Though Cloudia had directly looked at the onlookers while she had spoken and pointed at the corpse and the slowly growing bloodstain, they were rooted to the spot, watching her with wide, terrified eyes. Cloudia clenched her teeth.

This undertaking could only be a hassle with all these civilians around and no proper way to evacuate them. Couldn’t the gunman have stayed put?

Cloudia pushed down her irritation and glanced at the dead man. From his clothes, she could tell that he must have been a Nanteuillat. What can you tell me? she thought and was about to look quickly through his pockets when she heard a clang and a curse behind her. Cloudia lifted her head and saw Lisa holding onto the railing and trying to regain her balance, cursing under her breath.

“Not waiting for Newman?” asked Cloudia and rolled the dead man on his side to gain better access to his pockets. “And miss out on some fun? Definitely not,” Lisa said. She glared at the onlookers until they stepped back a bit and then carefully squeezed past Cloudia and stepped over the body. “I also didn’t want to stay any longer with him,” she continued. Cloudia knew without Lisa needing to elaborate that she meant Milton. “His Gracelessness and Al got Mr Kamden and Mr Beauchene to sit in one of the cabins.”

“That’s good.” Cloudia pulled two knives and a train ticket from the corpse’s pockets; his cabin was the one right in the middle. Cloudia got to her feet and went inside the man’s cabin. It was empty. He had brought no luggage with him – understandable considering the situation. What truly brought Cloudia’s mind into motion was the fact that this villager had been given a ticket for a compartment for four people, even if he was left all alone. Had Yvette and Townsend travelled with an odd number? Or did the dead man have a partner? But if yes, where could they be?

There was no one hiding here, but they could be hiding in one of the other cabins, having threatened its actual passengers to remain silent. Or…

Cloudia left the compartment and looked down the corridor. The door at the end was closed. The platform was too small for anyone to get a proper run-up to be able to jump the distance between the coaches.

If the dead man’s partner had jumped to the next wagon, why would the dead man bother to close the door after them?

Cloudia retrieved her father’s dagger, holding it firmly in her hand as she slowly approached the exit door.

Why not leave it open?

Abruptly, Cloudia kicked the door open, catching the man behind off-guard and slamming it into his face. Surprised screams echoed through the air behind her. The man’s gun slid out of his fingers, tumbling one, two steps down. Before he could recover, Cloudia sliced his throat and pushed him down the stairs. She saw him hit the ground and watched him roll down the hill for only a moment – a moment in which the cabin door closest to her opened.

A man burst out of it, his gun raised. He fired, but Cloudia dodged, and the bullet collided with the railing. The metal vibrated behind her. She lifted the dagger, saw his finger about to pull the trigger again.

Before they could do anything, the man fell forward.

Cloudia fled to the narrow stairs, holding onto the bannister with one hand, as the man’s head hit the metal of the railing, then the platform’s.

“I should have waited for Newman, right?” said Lisa, bloody needle in hand.

Despite everything, a chuckle burst out of Cloudia. “Of course not.” She returned to the platform and kicked the corpse to the side before she glanced back to the corridor (squinting past the passengers who were now moving around like headless chickens, she could make out Cedric and Milton at the last carriage’s door). Then, she turned to the coach ahead.

And right into the face of a wide-eyed woman looking through the little window, having spectated everything unfold.

A passenger, maybe. Hopefully.

But then she didn’t scream, didn’t remain.

Instead, she tore herself free from her stasis and turned and ran to the end of the wagon, hammering on the cabin doors she passed.

“Damn,” Cloudia said and got ready to jump, “we need to get going.”

***

~Cedric~

June 23

About 11:00

With a sigh, Cedric held onto the bannister. The wagon rocked softly under his feet, and he needed a moment to compose himself after having jumped between coaches on a running train.

This was one of the most idiotic things I had ever done.

Nausea brushed its fingers against him when Cedric glanced into the chasm between the coaches, saw the tracks running and blurring beneath. He quickly tore his gaze away from the sight and shook his head. Letting go of the railing, he turned to walk into the corridor.

Milton had jumped first.

There had been no talk. He had simply gone first, and Cedric had felt odd when Milton landed on the next wagon’s platform, looking unfazed as he glanced back at him. The image clung to Cedric still as he watched Milton talk to the passengers. Although they were in uproar and hysteria, the soothing tone of Milton’s voice managed to reach Cedric; it was like a band of calmness weaving itself through the panic and trying to bring everything under control.

Cedric hovered by the door for a moment, mesmerised by Milton gently guiding passengers back to their cabins and easing their worries with a few, to him, unintelligible words. Then, Cedric shook himself free and elbowed his way through the screeching crowd and the narrow walkway, bumping against walls and shoulders and nearly tripping over a corpse before he finally got to Milton.

Cedric grabbed Milton’s arm, careful to avoid his wrist this time. “Milton! We need to go!” he said and tried to drag him along, but Milton would not budge.

“What are you doing?” yelled Cedric. “We need to continue to the next coach!”

“What about the passengers?” replied Milton, surprisingly steadfast although Cedric pulled on him again.

“We have no time to look after panicked passengers! They will manage.”

“No, you have no time for that,” Milton retorted. “You can go ahead without me, Kristopher. I will be fine on my own.”

“I cannot just leave you behind, Milton,” said Cedric, getting even more irritated that he had to move a bit sideways to let a man push through. This space was far too cramped for his liking.

“Of course, you can. I’m sorry; that might be your way, but it is not mine.” The serious expression Milton had worn in the burning cabin crawled back onto his face. He tried to pull away from Cedric’s grip; however, just like Milton had not budged, neither did Cedric, and he held on tight to him.

“Stop being so stubborn for once, Milton. You know I cannot leave you alone.”

“I am not a child that needs to be looked after,” replied Milton with an uncharacteristic cold edge to his words that startled Cedric, “and you are not my butler. I know you don’t even want to be with me right now, so just go ahead. Mr Newman will follow soon; I won’t even be alone for too long!”

“But…”

“Kristopher. We have little time for arguments. Can…” Milton faltered for a moment. Anguish briefly washed over his face as he continued, “Kristopher, can’t you trust me for once?”

Cedric flinched slightly. For a moment, a wing beat, they only stared wordlessly at each other. “Very well,” he said ultimately; his voice sounded distant even to his own ears. “Take care, Milton.”

Cedric let go of him and immediately turned to make his way through the crowd. Just as he reached the end of the carriage and was about to jump, he heard Milton’s voice, soft and quiet but still clear over the chaos, “You too.”

***

~Cloudia~

June 23

About 10:57

Cloudia landed on the platform with a loud clack that reverberated through the metal. Without stopping, she opened the door – and immediately someone ran into her. Instinctively, she grabbed his shoulders, shoved him back. “What are you doing,” she said. “There is nowhere for you to go.”

The man’s eyes widened at her sight, making Cloudia wonder if she had blood on her. Then, he yelled something that sounded like “murderer!” and turned and ran, right into someone else.

“What on earth,” Cloudia heard Lisa behind her.

“We were announced, apparently,” replied Cloudia dryly and ran into the wagon. The corridor was cramped. People were looking out of open compartments, wide-eyed; others were blocking the walkway. The damn woman from earlier had been quick to alert them all.

But she had not been quick enough to escape.

Cloudia thrust people aside. Some tried to grab her, but she kicked them away. The woman flung the door at the carriage end open. Behind Cloudia, Lisa cursed and then she heard a scream and a shout. No time to turn and look. Cloudia shoved someone away, quickened her pace.

The woman set out to jump. Cloudia lunged and grabbed her jacket. They both tumbled down to the ground. The woman yelled out when she hit the metal platform. Cloudia pulled out the dagger and was about to stab the woman in the leg when someone pulled on hers.

Caught off-guard, Cloudia let out a gasp but quickly composed herself and pushed herself off the ground and around, kicking at her assailant. He let her go, and Cloudia jumped to her feet. Unlike the men from the last wagon, she could not tell if he was a Nanteuillat or not. He could be with Townsend or a passenger who could not mind his business, believing that Cloudia was the villain here. All she knew was that the man was a nuisance and that behind her the woman must have regained her composure as well.

No time, no time.

Cloudia rammed the hilt of the dagger into the man’s jaw before she whirled around. The woman had just jumped off the platform. Fleetly, Cloudia switched from dagger to gun, raised it, took aim. The woman landed on the next coach’s platform. Cloudia’s finger curled around the trigger, pushed down.

Then, Cloudia was thrown against the windowed wall. The bullet was sent flying elsewhere. Passengers screamed.

A man pinned her to the wall, a hand clasped around her neck.

Goddammit, Cloudia thought and immediately raised her gun; thankfully, she had held tight to it. Before she could pull the trigger and shoot the man’s leg, he slammed it out of her hand. He tightened his grip around her neck, and she gasped for air that wouldn’t pass to her lungs. Cloudia tried to kick him, but she was beginning to see stars, and the man, so much taller and stronger than her, pressed a knee against her stomach.

Damn, damn, damn, echoed it through her mind as her lungs burned and her vision blurred. And then she remembered something Oscar had told her years ago.

With another wheeze, Cloudia stopped struggling, closed her eyes, and went limp in the man’s arms.

A moment later, he let go of her throat. She did her best not to gasp for air immediately. She let her body sack sideways. Before the man noticed that Cloudia was still breathing, she heard a familiar “Countess!” ring through the air followed by a grunt.

Not pinned against the wall anymore, Cloudia sank to the ground and now she allowed herself to take deeper breaths. She re-opened her eyes and peered right into Cedric’s concerned ones.

“Chartreuse eyes,” Cloudia managed to press out, her voice hoarse. “Am I dead?”

“Don’t joke about that,” said Cedric and helped her to her feet. “Are you okay, Countess?”

She rubbed her neck. “Yes,” Cloudia replied. She glanced at the man sprawled on the floor, unconscious. “I hope you didn’t kill him, Undertaker.”

“I just hit him with a knife handle. Maybe I should have killed him,” Cedric said darkly.

Cloudia immediately snapped her head around to him; a poor choice because she briefly saw stars again, though she did not care at this moment. “Don’t you joke about that. You know you cannot kill anyone.”

He looked at her. “But…”

“No ‘buts’. No killing for you.” Cloudia bent down to pick up her gun and quickly checked it. At the edge of her vision, she noticed the passengers staring at them. “Lisa should still be here somewhere.”

“I haven’t seen her. I…” Cedric quietened. Cloudia raised an eyebrow in question, though he did not continue.

With a shrug, Cloudia stepped through the crowd that, now shocked and terrified by what they had witnessed, parted like jittery ghosts for her. The carriage wasn’t big, so it was not difficult to find Lisa. Breathing heavily, she stood in a compartment. She clutched a bloody needle in her hands; her hair was half-pulled from her braid, and blood bloomed across her side. Still, Lisa looked better than the man lying in front of her on the bench, glassy-eyed and stabbed to death. Behind Lisa, a woman was hugging her two children to her chest and whimpered.

“Lisa!” Cloudia called, and her maid turned to look at her. “I hate this goddamn train,” Lisa said before her face crumpled in pain.

“Miss Greene! You’re hurt; what happened?” Cedric asked when he joined them.

“I hate you too,” hissed Lisa and sank into the seat next to the petrified little family, pressing her hand against her wound. “What do you think happened, you genius? This asshole pulled me into this cabin and yanked at my hair and stabbed my side. And I stabbed him many more times in return,” she finished with a wince.

Cloudia stepped to her. “Let me look at that.”

Lisa shook her head. “I assume that woman managed to get away? You need to follow her immediately.”

“I will after I quickly fix you up.”

Lisa glared at her. “I can bandage myself up just fine, Lady Cloudia. You know that I have practice. I’m only annoyed that I’m now out of action. Please avenge me by going after that woman and Yvette and whoever else is on this damn train.”

“Very well,” said Cloudia with a sigh. “Do you have what you need?”

Lisa rolled her eyes and dug out a roll of bandages from her pocket. “Yes. Now leave with His Gracelessness before I actually bleed to death in this miserable place.”

***

~Cedric~

June 23

About 11:05

The next wagon was mayhem too; only I barely registered any of it. As soon as I spotted Cloudia, my vision tunnelled and everything else went black, fell away. The passengers, the noise, even the coach itself.

The light only turned on again when I heard Cloudia’s laboured breaths.

After we found Miss Greene bloody and bleeding but alive and full of rage in a compartment, I slipped away, letting Cloudia argue with her alone. I glimpsed back at the carriage behind us and was stunned to see that it had cleared. Somehow, Milton had managed to coerce the passengers back into their cabins. He even seemed to have dragged the corpse elsewhere. Seeing the emptied, dirtied corridor, I could not help but feel bad that Milton had to move a dead body.

Even though he had not minded it at all to carry his dead employee.

I stumbled over that thought. Milton was standing on the side, and when he stepped away from the windows (what had he been doing?), our eyes met looking through the opened doors.

“Can’t you trust me for once?”

“Undertaker?”

Cloudia’s voice behind him made Cedric flinch. He quickly turned to face her, carefully obscuring her view to the door. She did not have to see that Milton was in the neighbouring wagon – at least not now as she would only get upset. Cloudia frowned at him. “Is everything fine?”

“Yes,” Cedric replied. “I was only looking around and didn’t notice you were done with Miss Greene.”

“I think saying that she is done with me is more fitting,” Cloudia said, sighing. “She insisted that I should go after that woman as she can very well fix herself up.”

“She can? That wound didn’t look good.”

“No worries; Lisa did that all the time before we met,” she told him and turned to jostle through the crowd. “Now, come. We do have to hurry and throttle some pests.”

***

~Cloudia~

June 23

About 11:15

Cloudia jumped first. Even before her feet touched the platform, she could hear the chaos in the wagon. She gritted her teeth together. That woman had turned out to be an absolute annoyance; she had even closed the door behind her. Cloudia went to the door and glanced through its small window but couldn’t spot her anywhere. With her hand on the handle, Cloudia craned her head to Cedric. He had still not jumped. Frowning, she watched him look back – did he look nervous or was she imagining it? – before he finally took a run-up and hopped from one carriage to the next.

“Is everything all right?” Cloudia asked. Cedric who was looking back to the previous wagon again snapped around to her.

“Yes, of course,” he said unconvincingly. “And you?” he added, his eyes drifting to her neck.

“Yes, perfectly,” Cloudia replied. She wanted to enquire further; only they had no time. Without another word, she pulled open the door and let them be engulfed with hysteria and hysterics.

A man thought it was the best moment to roll out his suitcase, blocking a good portion of the walkway. A couple started an argument with him about that. They pushed and pulled the suitcase, their faces red and their voices agitated. A mother tried to soothe her crying, screaming baby, and yelled at others around to calm down. A young man asked the other passengers what was going on, his voice becoming shriller and squeakier every time he asked. A moustached man tried squeezing through the crowd while holding a large, open bottle of water.

Pandemonium was a tin of confused and distraught passengers; Cloudia did not look forward to making her way through it.

“Please excuse us and let us through; this is an emergency,” Cloudia tried. However, when the majority neither budged nor listened, Cloudia decided to drop the courtesy and thrust people away left and right; Cedric was right behind her. She kicked the damn suitcase back into the cabin, kicked its owner for good measure, shooed away the jittery young man, and accidentally elbowed the moustached man’s face. He grabbed her jacket as he stumbled back, pulling her with him; water slopped out of his bottle. Cloudia tumbled back too but managed to find her footing back quickly.

Cloudia sighed in relief when she and Cedric finally reached the exit and could feel the fresh, cold air on their skin again. At least, there had been no incident in that wagon.

They lost no time getting to the next one. When Cloudia landed on the platform, her heart began to beat a bit faster. They entered the wagon, hurried through the passageway as best as they could. More and more electricity and excitement pulsed through Cloudia with every step she took, with every step that brought her farther and closer to the end of the coach.

One wagon.

Jacques and Yvette were only one wagon ahead of us now.

The tension, the anticipation, tried to pry her attention away, exchange it for tunnel vision and only make her focus ahead – in vain. Despite her excitement, Cloudia did not allow herself to let her attention drift away. She was hyperaware of everything – the passengers, the open and closed doors of the compartments, Cedric right behind her, assuring like a safety net – as she nudged people aside. Again, there were no incidents as Cloudia made her way forward to this wagon’s door.

And then to the next.

With a clack, Cloudia jumped on the platform five carriages ahead of the one where she had boarded the train. The platform of the wagon where Yvette and Jacques were. Cedric arrived right behind her.

I couldn’t wait to cut Yvette’s throat and get Jacques back. I was so close now but…

Cloudia put her hand on the door handle, dragged it open.

But…

A wave of foreboding hit Cloudia. She was just quick enough to turn to Cedric and grab him.

“Coun–” he began, the address torn in two when she yanked him to the stairs. Reacting swiftly, instinctively, he pulled her to him right as a bullet soared through the air.

Blood rushed through her ears. Cloudia’s hand reached for the dagger before she realised it. With cold terror did she notice its absence. It was not attached to her side anymore; she had no idea when she had lost it or where. Part of her wanted to cry but she pulled herself together and procured a knife instead. When another bullet followed the previous one, and a body followed the bullet through the door, Cloudia was there. Her knife was already raised, his gun still held low.

Cloudia slit the man’s throat.

And then the platform vibrated, and time slowed.

Again, Cedric called out to her. Again, the word was split apart.

One of Townsend’s people had been in the previous coach after all.

Another loud, panicked “Coun–” was shouted into the air when Cedric rushed between Cloudia and the new arrival…

… and trailed into nothingness when Cedric was thrown off the train.

***

June 23

About 11:30

“Cedric!”

She didn’t register the shout escaping her throat.

She was aware of nothing but the sight, the memory, the shock of seeing Cedric be shoved and – vanish.

All the rest was a blur. Cloudia was only pulled back into the now when she heard a loud clang.

She was panting, her grip iron-clad on the bloody knife. Something wet was running down the side of her head. She could not care less about that or the body on the small metal staircase. Her body forced her to put one hand on the bannister and go down the stairs to see and check.

The train was rattling through the landscape, endless fields of green and specks of houses and colour passing by.

But there was no grey, no black, no chartreuse.

Breathe in, breathe out. Deeply, steadily.

Collecting her strength, Cloudia went upstairs, ripped her hand from the railing. The rush had ebbed away, leaving her body full of ice. Fascination overcame her that she was not crumbling or breaking apart when she raised her hand to her throat, yanked the necklace free from beneath her clothes, cradled the pendant in her fist.

Undertaker, she sent to him, waited.

One second, two seconds.

A sharp inhale.

Undertaker, she tried again. Thoughts had no volume; still, she pressed as much force and insistence into that one word as she could.

One second, two seconds.

Her eyes fluttered closed.

There was no voice at the end of the line.

But as she concentrated, she could feel, faintly but surely, that there was an end of the line still.

That invisible thread, pulled taunt, vibrating like the heart beating in her chest.

As long as the pendants were intact, as long as the thread and its strangeness were running strong, she could find him.

And don’t be ridiculous, Cloudia thought to herself as she let the pendant vanish behind her clothes. She stepped away from the bannister while wiping the blood from her face.

I might not know what could kill Death and if it could be done at all.

Cloudia kicked the corpse from the stairs, though refrained from watching it go.

But it couldn’t be done like that.

I was certain of it.

The skull pendant was warm against her chest when she strode into the carriage.

***

~Cedric~

June 23

About 11:35

The skull pendant was warm against his chest, its heat coaxing him awake.

For a moment, he didn’t know where he was, wondered whether he was dreaming. His head hurt, his body felt sore and cold, the world around him spun…

… no, it ran past him, the train and its speed smearing all colours to a blur.

The train.

Cloudia.

Cedric heaved himself to his feet, reached out to the railing to steady himself.

The memories flowed back to me. I had followed Cloudia through the coaches until someone had shot at us and someone else had jumped from the previous wagon to ours. When he had charged at Cloudia, I had jumped between – only to get pushed off the platform.

If I hadn’t teleported at the last moment, I would lie in shambles a few kilometres back in the grass.

The thought made me shudder.

But where exactly was I now instead?

Cedric looked around, the wind tearing at his hair. At some point, his ponytail had come loose, and the band had flown away. He brushed some wayward strands from his face and adjusted his glasses.

He was still on the correct train; his impromptu teleport had not taken him elsewhere entirely, that he knew. Only, on which wagon was he right now? He had not landed at the very back at least (Cedric didn’t know how he could have explained himself that he was back there, in case Aurèle and Kamden decided to look out of their compartment at this very moment). If this was the fifth wagon from the back, it would be ideal. He could easily catch up with Cloudia then. He would not mind if it was the fourth wagon either.

Cloudia. Her name rang through my mind with such heaviness.

I knew she was fine; of course, she was. Nonetheless, the image from earlier clung to me, seeing her limp in that man’s arms.

Cedric reached to retrieve the pendant – and halted when he saw something odd from the corner of his eye: Something was attached to the carriage wall behind him.

He turned to figure out what it was and realised with horror that no, it was not something that clung to the train.

It was someone.

His heart dropped when he registered that he knew who it was.

“Milton!” Cedric cried out, just as Milton rammed through the window.

***

~Cloudia~

June 23

About 11:35

The annoying woman had been in this wagon too. This time, of course, not only she had alerted the passengers and beckoned them out of their cabins; the gunshots and the fight had as well. They had, however, also frozen the civilians with fear. Now, instead of wandering around, wondering, crying, arguing, they stood still in the corridor and doorsills, staring at her anxiously.

In the last few coaches, Cloudia might have welcomed the change, even if it had come at the price of such a horrific scare. Here, the sight only made cold tendrils curl up her spine.

After all, Yvette and Jacques were meant to be in this wagon.

***

~Cedric~

June 23

About 11:38

It took Cedric a moment until he could move again. His mind had momentarily blanked upon the sight of Milton vanishing in a shower of glass inside the wagon.

Now, his mind replayed the memory while Cedric hastily jumped to the carriage behind him. No matter how often it ran through his head, he could not understand why on earth this idiot would do something so absurdly reckless – hadn’t they left all doors open when they passed through the train?

And if the door had somehow closed in the meantime, couldn’t he have simply opened it again?

“I will keep myself safe,” my ass, Cedric thought as he landed on the platform, took the one, two steps to the door. Anger mixed with horror and worry. He could not wait to chew out Milton for his behaviour. But when he laid his hand on the door handle and pushed it down, it did not budge.

And when he looked up and through the door’s small, broken window, he froze again.

How could that be?

***

~Cloudia~

June 23

About 11:38

Cloudia hurried to search the compartments, one by one.

They were not here; they were not there.

And when she reached the last cabin, she tightened the grip on her blade, drew the door open…

… and gazed at people she had never seen before.

***

~Cedric~

June 23

About 11:39

The scene in front of him was nothing if not surreal.

In bafflement, in puzzlement, Cedric watched everything unfold; his brain tried its best to comprehend the strange sequence that played before him.

Yvette was backing away, inching closer to the door behind which Cedric stood. He could not see her face; still, he knew that she must be looking terrified. After all, he could see the tension in her body.

And the horrifying look on Milton’s face as he charged at her, knife in hand.

His oddly calm expression. The bloodcurdling blank fury in his eyes.

Blink; Milton turned the knife in his hand. Cedric hadn’t even registered that he had been holding it oddly, had been grasping its blade before.

Blink; the space between them was conquered.

Blink; the knife was raised.

Blink – and Milton was pulled back.

The moment was broken, the tense seconds shattered as Newman grabbed Milton’s arm and yanked him back.

Yvette, unhurt, stumbled back, and lost something in her haste to get away.

It tumbled out of her pocket, that rectangular little object, and rolled right to Milton’s feet.

Cedric inhaled sharply when he saw Milton snatch it and the look in his eyes shift.

Milton might be standing on the other end of the walkway. Still, Cedric could make out his expression as clear as day.

It was a familiar one, after all. One he had got to know only days before.

***

~Cloudia~

June 23

About 11:39

I cursed under my breath.

I had not excluded the possibility, of course, that Yvette or Townsend or Maxime might move between the wagons too. I had only anticipated that the probability would be rather small as they would have to jump with hostages in tow, one of which was little Jacques.

But with all that commotion, they must have seen no other way.

They could only hope for their own sakes’ that they had not decided to simply discard Jacques on the way.

Cloudia stepped away from the cabin and briefly glanced back before she opened the door and jumped to the carriage ahead.

***

~Cedric~

June 23

About 11:40

“I wondered if it were you. It is such a pleasure to finally meet you, Baron Salisbury,” said Yvette and straightened up. Cedric could hear the smile in her voice. He would have broken open the lock, bolted through the door, and torn it right off her face if Maxime hadn’t come out of a cabin at that moment, a blade pressed against Jacques’ throat. He was followed by a man Cedric didn’t know who levelled a pistol at Milton and Newman.

Damn, damn, damn.

Yvette, Jacques, and Maxime were here, in a completely different coach than we had anticipated. Cloudia was ahead, trying to find them. Newman and Milton were with them – and my hands were bound.

If I made myself noticed, at best, Maxime and Yvette would threaten to cut Jacques’ throat if I did not stay back. At worst, they might kill him immediately, the suddenness of me breaking the door or whatnot possibly spooking them enough to draw the knife across his neck.

I could not even teleport myself behind Yvette, Maxime, and the gunman and knock them out in secret because of Milton and Newman.

I had to find another way, another opportunity, to get inside. For now, all I could do was turn myself invisible, in case Yvette, the gunman, or Maxime spotted me through the window, and listen to their conversation with my teeth clenched.

Goddammit, Milton; couldn’t you have a better poker face?

“Townsend told me about your company,” Yvette continued, delight dripping into her voice. “How Salisbury Trading, already successful, thrived with you as its head, Mylord, and established itself as one of the quickest transportation companies that exists, if not as the quickest one. And how secretive you are. However, Townsend still managed to take a glimpse at some machine blueprints while he ‘worked’ for you. His father used to work on machines in a factory and told him a lot about his job, did you know that? Townsend himself was never adept with technology; nevertheless, he knew from the moment he saw those blueprints that they were unlike anything he had seen before.

“When he told me all that, all I could think was what a waste it is to hide machinery like that. You could become richer than you already are; you could become more known than you already are. Instead, you keep everything away and yourself too. Not a singular picture of you in any newspaper! There was only some hearsay about golden hair.” The delight in Yvette’s voice darkened to something bitter. “You could have everything, but you hide yourself because of ‘humbleness.’ I could laugh! Selfishness is all that is. I even viewed you as tyrannical for withholding those blueprints and the people behind them. At the same time, I could not help but wonder if Salisbury Trading’s prodigious accomplishments are truly coming from its employees or actually from its elusive director.”

Yvette made a step towards Milton. Cedric tensed when she reached into her pocket, but she only procured a pair of handcuffs, not a weapon. He still did not like it at all what Yvette must want with it.

“Mylord,” Yvette said, boasting with confidence. “I have a proposal for you. I will hand over Jacques to your companion. In exchange, you will remove your weaponry, return the Queen’s box to me, put on these handcuffs” – she lifted them – “and come with me, Maxime, and Stevens with no protest. We would also lock Jacques and your companion in one of the cabins. It’s not long until Paris anymore. When we arrive, I’m sure Miss Watchdog or someone else in her entourage will free Jacques and your companion. By that time, we will be long gone and traversing the city until we find a nice, quiet place for you to open the box. Of course, if you refuse, Maxime will slit Jacques’ throat.” On cue, Maxime tightened his grip on the boy, and Jacques whimpered. Cedric clenched his jaw. “And if your friend there tries anything, Stevens will, of course, shoot you both.”

Yvette held the handcuffs out to Milton. “What do you say, Mylord?”

“Do you not have the Clockmaker in your grip? Why would you require another to solve the box?”

To everyone’s surprise, it was not Milton who responded but Newman. Cedric sucked in the air when he heard his friend’s voice and wished he had a better view of him and Milton. Yvette, Maxime, Jacques, and Stevens the gunman were in the way, and Cedric could only vaguely make out that Milton turned to Newman. Cedric pictured him looking aghast and was sure that Milton must be saying something in protest to Newman, though he could not hear it.

“Of course, we have that disagreeable Clockmaker in our grip,” replied Yvette. For once, Cedric was happy that Florentin was like he was; he must have made the journey to Creil rather unenjoyable for Yvette and Townsend.

He should not have let himself be taken though. Even if they had held Jacques hostage.

“I simply like having options,” Yvette continued. “And as you can see, the box is a unique oddity – just like the Baron’s machinery. The Clockmaker seems to work with the old, the Baron with the new. Between the two, they should be able to open the puzzle box. Now, what do you say, Baron Salisbury?”

“Yes, of course,” Milton said with shocking immediacy.

“Baron Milton,” gasped Newman in a mirror of Cedric’s thoughts.

“What other decision is there for me to make, Mr Newman?” Milton said before he addressed Yvette. “I will put on the handcuffs, and then you will hand over Jacques at the same time as Mr Newman will surrender me and the box to you.”

“And then, you will remain with Maxime until Jacques and Mr Newman have let themselves be locked up,” added Yvette.

“Exactly.”

“Lord Milton, don’t!” cried Jacques. Maxime tightened his grip on him anew, and he whimpered again. Cedric could hear the tears in his voice as Jacques still strained to continue, “You can’t let them have the box! It doesn’t matter what happens to me!”

“Don’t say something like that, Jacques,” Milton replied softly. “This is just a box, and what kind of queen would place a keepsake above the life of a child?” Yvette shifted a bit to the side, allowing Cedric to see Milton pass the knife he had still been holding in his left hand to Newman. Only then did Cedric notice its familiar glint.

How did Cloudia’s father’s dagger end up with Milton?

Milton proceeded to remove his odd utility belt and gave it to Newman too. Just when he took the handcuffs, Jacques cried out again. “They won’t let you go, Lord Milton! No matter if you cannot open it or if you can!”

“That is fine,” Milton said with an odd voice. The handcuffs clicked loudly into their locks when he bound himself. “There is nothing they can do to me that is new.”

With that, Milton stepped forward. “The box for the boy, me for their survival.”

“Yes, of course, Mylord.” Yvette beckoned Maxime to her. He dragged Jacques forward, keeping the knife pressed to his neck, until they were standing next to Milton in this narrow space. Newman was behind Milton, Yvette stood behind Maxime, and Stevens remained where he was and pointed his weapon at Milton.

“Lord Milton,” sobbed Jacques.

“Do not be afraid and go to Mr Newman as fast as you can when you’re released,” Milton replied and held the box out to Yvette. Now that Milton was closer, Cedric could see the serene expression on his face better and the engravings on the box. “Miss Guilloux?”

“Flattered that you know my name, Baron Salisbury,” said Yvette and grabbed the black box in his hand, though she only lifted it from his palm the moment Maxime let the knife sink.

Then, everything happened in short succession.

Maxime nudged Jacques to Newman. Newman pulled the boy behind himself. Yvette took Milton’s arm, dragged him to her.

With a glance over her head, Milton turned and rammed his shoulder into Yvette, thrusting her back into Stevens.

A bullet was released. A scream was heard.

Stevens was pressed against the door. Cedric broke the lock and threw the door open.

Stevens stumbled backwards. Although he didn’t fall through the open door, Cedric was still there to catch him and yank him to the side. He fought against the itch to shove him down the stairs and dodged when Stevens fired at him, the bullet flying half-heartedly past his leg.

Cedric hastened to take the pistol away from him but was suddenly overpowered and pushed too. For a moment, his stomach fluttered as he feared to be kicked off the train again. Instead, his back hit the cold metal railing, the bars digging into his clothes. He clenched his teeth, and when Stevens raised the gun to his head, Cedric slapped it away, sent it flying into the landscape.

Cedric had just taken hold of Stevens’ wrist and twisted it until it broke – a body injured was no life taken after all – when he noticed someone rushing past them, escaping to the next wagon.

Yvette.

Cedric’s curses mixed with Stevens’ wails of pain. He punched him in the face, knocking him out, before he turned, ready to follow her. But she had already vanished in the carriage, making her way through it – and getting closer to Cloudia.

Go, Cloudia! Get her!

With a smile, Cedric dropped the unconscious man on the platform and quickly checked if this had not accidentally killed him and cost him his job and existence before he hurried inside. Adrenaline and worry pumped through him. There had been a gunshot, and he had no idea if the bullet had hit anything, anyone, and Maxime had been right behind Milton with a knife too.

The instant Cedric stepped into the wagon, he realised that his worry had been unfounded. Newman stood protectively before a shaky Jacques, and Milton stood above an unconscious Maxime. He was still handcuffed and although he was a bit dishevelled, Milton seemed perfectly fine when he turned to Cedric and said, “Kristopher! Are you all right?”

Cedric pressed his lips into a grim line and grabbed Milton by the shoulders. “What are you doing, you idiot!” he yelled and shook Milton. “I saw you climb around outside a moving train! Break through a window! Pawn yourself off and take a gamble tackling someone with a gun! What happened to keeping yourself safe?!”

He stopped shaking Milton and took a deep breath. Every conversation he had had with Anaïs and Aurèle about faeries, death, and Milton returned to him now. The possibility that Milton might be on the verge of death, his candle about to be blown out, the “complete” stamp pressed to his Dispatch file. A possibility that was both strengthened by all the nonsense Milton had done and weakened because he was still alive.

And in it all, all I could think of was Cloudia’s reaction to everything – his carelessness, his potential death.

When Cedric looked up at Milton, remorse was written all over Milton’s face. “I’m sorry, Kristopher. I didn’t mean to worry or upset you. I wouldn’t have done any of that if I hadn’t known I would be fine.”

“Have you gone mad? How on earth would you have known…” began Cedric but was cut off by Jacques wailing and hugging Milton from behind.

“Lord Milton! I’m so sorry!” he pressed out between sobs. “You got hurt because of me!” Abruptly, Jacques shrieked and jumped back. “Oh no! I got carried away! I’m so sorry, did I hurt you? Maxime stabbed you in the back after all… And the bullet must have hit you too…”

Cedric’s eyes widened. “What?” it slipped out of his mouth. “Why didn’t anyone say anything before I shook him like a rattle?” He swiftly turned Milton around to inspect the wound.

Only to find nothing. Solely his jacket was a bit chafed.

“I said I’m okay,” said Milton. Cedric could have sworn he sounded embarrassed. “I was stabbed, yes, but I am fine.”

Milton turned around, and Cedric stared at him. “The jacket,” Cedric said, dumbfounded. “I wondered why you chose to wear a suit jacket of all things for the journey. I thought you were maybe being a bit silly or forgot to pack enough practical stuff but that’s protective clothing?”

Milton smiled sheepishly. “A prototype. The test run has gone well, I suppose.”

“The test run? You chose to do a test run on a prototype now?”

“Well, it’s not the first test run…”

“And that should pacify me?!”

“… just the first one with the new amendments. It’s good to know it works well for stabs and cuts and if you’re grazed by a bullet. If I had been hit with it, the jacket wouldn’t have done anything; it’s not that far yet…”

Cedric ran a hand through his hair and took a deep breath. “You have gone mad, most certainly. A test run! Don’t use an actual criminal hunt as a test run! And why would you even need to trial protective clothing in the first place?!”

“Your Grace,” said Newman and stepped forward. “Please calm down. Excessive shouting is detrimental to your health, and you are spooking young Mr Beauchene.” Cedric opened his mouth to protest only to close it again. Newman nodded at him before he turned to Milton. He gently lifted Milton’s hands, rattling the handcuffs. “This was a particularly reckless endeavour, Mylord,” Newman stated and rummaged in his pocket. “In my life, I have only observed my dear mistress acting in such a manner, equal parts brave and imprudent.” He procured a skeleton key and began to try opening the handcuffs.

“I am sorry, Mr Newman,” Milton said quietly, sounding oddly young. “Are you fine? Have you got hurt?”

“Not at all, Mylord. I apologise; I was unable to thank you before for endangering yourself for my sake.”

“You do not have to thank me for that, Mr Newman.” Milton’s voice was almost a whisper.

Confused, Cedric looked between the two. “What happened?”

“Baron Milton broke through the window because I failed to secure my back, and the door was jammed,” explained Newman. “You even suffered an injury for my sake; I deeply apologise for that.” He took the now-open handcuffs from Milton’s wrists. However, when he tried to turn Milton’s bloody left hand for inspection, Milton hastily pulled it back.

“It is only a shallow cut,” Milton insisted. “The blood crusted already. I am fine. And you really don’t need to apologise to me or thank me, or please, least of all, don’t feel guilty, Mr Newman. It was my own choice and doing. Now, could you give me the handcuffs?”

Wordlessly, Newman handed them over alongside the utility belt; the dagger he kept. Milton took the items, put on his belt, and knelt to Maxime. Cedric had completely forgotten that they were standing around his fainted body. He glanced around a bit then and discovered another body unconscious on the ground on the other end of the walkway; Newman’s large frame had hidden it from view before. Some passengers peeked out of their compartments, and Cedric recognised the agitated couple and the moustached man from before. That explained why a portion of the ground was wet.

Milton quickly let the handcuffs snap around Maxime’s wrists and stood up again. He shrugged off his suit jacket and placed it over Jacques’ shoulders. The boy’s eyes, red and poufy from crying, widened; his glasses made them appear even larger. “But, Lord Milton! I can’t take this!”

“Of course, you can,” said Milton gently. “It will help to keep you safe until we have all returned to the château. I will be fine without it too.” He smiled at Jacques. “Mr Newman? Would you be so kind and deliver Jacques to his brother or simply remain here until we have arrived in Paris?”

Newman bowed his head. Milton went to the windowed side of the corridor, stretched, and did something Cedric could not see that culminated in a flap clicking open and a row of short ropes falling out. “And if the right time comes, could you pull on these ropes?” said Milton to Newman. “Please pass this information on to the passengers here, thanks.”

With that, Milton strode to the door. Cedric, seeing red and realising that he was gradually losing his patience with him, shot out his arm and grabbed Milton’s. “I don’t think you should continue after the stunts you have just pulled and after Yvette found out that you could open the box. It’s best if you stay very far away from Yvette and Townsend, Milton.”

“I told you that I have to go on, Kristopher,” replied Milton adamantly. “There is no reason to repeat that argument; I will not budge. Regarding the box…” He was quiet for a moment. “They aren’t even sure if I can open it. And they only nearly had me because I freely handed myself over. I’ve never been kidnapped before.”

“This might be the worst situation for firsts, Milton.”

“It won’t happen.”

“Unless you’re clairvoyant, I doubt you can know for sure.” Cedric sighed. “You’re giving me a headache, Milton.”

“I’m sorry. We do have no time to argue though. It’s not long until we arrive in Paris now.”

Cedric sighed anew and glanced at Newman. “Please take care of Jacques, Al. It seems I need to take this one here through the train.”

***

~Cloudia~

June 23

About 11:41

Commotion, commotion, commotion.

The next wagon was a chaotic wreck too. Cloudia was tired of jostling her way through the masses and narrow corridors. Thus, when she finally spotted the woman who had caused all that, Cloudia wished she still had the dagger and didn’t have to cut her throat with an ordinary knife.

At least, when the woman spotted her, she turned in panic and tried to run – only to be held back by passengers.

She just reached the door when Cloudia slammed her against it, holding the cold blade against her neck. “Interesting, isn’t it? How things can turn out to be,” whispered Cloudia into her ear, first in French, then in English for good measure, before she slid the knife across her throat like a violinist drew a bow along the strings of their instrument. Instead of a melody, her action only coaxed gasps and screams out of the passengers who tried to pry her off the woman.

“Murderer, murderer, murderer,” they called her. Cloudia simply yanked herself free from their grips and wiped the knife on her clothes. Again, there was no sight of Yvette and Jacques. She wondered about them as she moved on to the next wagon, the last one before the locomotive.

***

~Cedric~

June 23

About 12:00

“Are you done here, Milton?” Cedric asked. Since they had left Jacques and Newman behind, they had managed to cross a wagon and were about to jump to their third. After that, there was only one carriage left between them and the locomotive which meant they had nearly caught up with Cloudia.

“Yes,” said Milton and stepped away from the windowed wall. Yet again, it was lined with the short ropes; this time, Cedric had managed to glimpse Milton plunging an odd, bi-coloured key into a small hole and turning it though.

Milton glanced at the passengers, and Cedric sighed. They had had to forgo easing the civilians back into their compartments in the last coach which had visibly pained Milton even if he understood.

“Milton, we don’t have much time. If we don’t catch them before the train enters the station, they will run off wherever,” Cedric reminded him.

Milton nodded, looking a bit absentminded. “Yes. Give me a moment, Kristopher,” he said and turned to some of the passengers to say something to them in French. He had done that in the previous wagon too, had done that throughout the entire train. Cedric had initially thought he was simply reassuring them that everything would be fine; now, he knew better.

“And if the right time comes, could you pull on these ropes?” Milton had told Newman. Cedric knew next to nothing about trains; before he met Cloudia, he had barely ridden on them before. There had not been any trains yet before he became a Grim Reaper, only wagonways. Afterwards, there had been little need for Cedric to take a train as he could transport himself wherever he liked on his own. Still, whatever Milton was doing unnerved Cedric, and he searched his memory, in vain, if he had ever seen such ropes in trains before.

Cedric wanted to ask. His body itched with the question; nevertheless, he kept his mouth closed. Something told him that Milton would either avoid answering if needed, or fall into rambling and mumbling, and Cedric really had no time to pry a proper answer from him.

“I’m done,” announced Milton and gave him a little smile.

This little gesture, so innocent and normal, paired with his earlier thoughts sent an unexpected shudder down Cedric’s spine. He had never wanted to admit it before, not to Cecelia, not even to himself. Only, with all the events of the last ten hours, it was becoming harder and harder to ignore the indescribable unease that made its home within him whenever he was with Milton and write it off as mere jealousy.

***

~Cloudia~

June 23

About 11:46

Her heart beat faster when she arrived in the last coach before the locomotive.

Townsend and the others had to be here, or in the cab after all.

This wagon, unlike the previous ones, was quiet. No one stood in the passageways, wide-eyed and panicked and wondering what was going on. While Cloudia had only seen one very shoddy daguerreotype of Townsend, she could easily pick Yvette and Jacques out in a crowd. She was also confident that she could identify Florentin. The striking colour of his eyes might be dampened by his glasses, but Cedric had described them with as great care as he could.

It would be so easy to open each compartment until she found Townsend or Yvette so that she could drag them out and beat them up. It would be greatly satisfactory, though would certainly lead to yet another commotion, and Cloudia had no way of telling whether some of Townsend’s companions were here too. They might have decided for Townsend and Florentin to board alone so as not to deviate any attention to them, or for many others to board with him as to keep them safer.

However, if she stood here and waited for them to arrive in Paris, the civilians would file out of the cabins too, making it difficult to locate and reach Townsend and Florentin, Yvette and Jacques.

Cloudia clenched her teeth and turned the knife in her hand.

Beating them up would not do. She was not a barbarian but a lady after all. A clean cut would suffice, or a well-placed stab through ribs or guts.

And because Yvette must be here already, Townsend must be awaiting Cloudia. A commotion was inevitable anyway.

Cloudia was about to open the first cabin door when she saw a movement from the corner of her eye and whirled around to see.

A man had stepped onto the platform of the locomotive. He wore practical but pristine clothes, from what she could tell from afar. An easy smile decorated his face, and the midday sun kissed his gold-blond hair as he waved at her. Cloudia frowned; she had thought he had darker hair.

“Yvette Guilloux told me all about you,” said Nicodemus Townsend so loudly that his words were still clear across the howling wind and through the closed carriage door. “Miss Watchdog.”

Cloudia tightened her grip on her weapon but did not move. Every fibre of her screamed trap, the scream vibrating through her body with each heartbeat.

Thus, when a compartment door ahead opened and a gunman stepped out, she was ready. Charging forward, knife raised before he could even aim. Cloudia had intended to pierce his chest, but he had moved away at the last moment, and she cut his side instead.

He yelled out and fired, unwavering. Cloudia dodged, her heart racing and adrenaline singing through her veins. Blood dripped from Cloudia’s blade to the floor, splattered a bit through the air as she lunged again. The man blocked her knife with the pistol, thrust her back a bit. She stumbled back a step but quickly found her footing again and sent the knife flying. The gunman stepped aside, the blade grazing his cheek and lodging in the cabin door behind. Cloudia used this small window in which he was surprised, distracted, to procure one of the knives she had taken from the first assailant, the one who had shot at them and set the ball rolling.

She charged ahead. And when the man raised his gun, she stabbed him through the hand before he could pull the trigger. Cloudia ripped out the knife, coaxing a cry out of him. His body staggered back just as another rammed into her from behind.

The air was knocked out of Cloudia’s lungs. Before she could recover, strong arms took hold of her and crushed her against the ground. The wagon shook from the impact. Pain blossomed across her chest, even with the corset partially absorbing the shock. The knife clattered out of her hands, and she could hear it being kicked away.

Cloudia strained against the grip. Her attacker held on tight, holding her hands and keeping a leg pressed against her back.

“I would refrain from doing anything rash,” Townsend said, entering the wagon. He must have jumped when Cloudia was attacked from behind. He smiled again; up close, she could see it was a politician’s smile, wide and pretty but it did not quite reach his eyes. “You would not want anything to happen to the poor, innocent passengers on this train, do you?”

The gunman scowled at Cloudia, holding his injured side with his injured hand. He now held his pistol with his left hand, not with his right one, and waved it towards the row of compartment doors before levelling it at her head. Cloudia gritted her teeth together.

“I knew the Queen would send her rumoured Watchdog after me, of course,” Townsend continued. “Never in a million years, I anticipated that it would be a woman, and was stunned to hear Miss Guilloux’s report from Nanteuil-la-Forêt. Who would have thought! The underworld’s watchdog, a woman! Such a beautiful one too. An unheard thing, but then, we are undergoing times of change, times of revolution.” His smile widened; it made Cloudia’s blood boil. “Revolution brought us two together too, and I will bring revolution to the kingdom.” Swiftly, Townsend retrieved a box from his jacket. Cloudia stiffened momentarily at the sight.

The Queen’s box. Glossy black, engraved with eerie furrows that stretched across it. The object for which Cloudia had taken this long, long journey. And now, it was right before her, in the enemy’s hand.

“Oh, an object of legends! I still cannot fathom that I could behold it with my eyes, let alone with my hands.” Townsend turned the black box in his hand and his eyes lit up. “Two myths, two rumours in one train wagon. The Queen’s puzzle box containing something of national importance, and Her Majesty’s Watchdog. What a marvellous day it is, don’t you agree, Miss Watchdog?” He tilted his head. “Calling you exclusively ‘Miss Watchdog’ like unrefined French village girls do is rather rude, is it not? You know my name; am I not entitled to know yours too?”

“It’s hilarious that you care not to be perceived as rude as if one of your men wasn’t pressing me against the ground and another wasn’t pointing a gun at me,” returned Cloudia.

Townsend laughed. “The woman talks, how lovely! And it’s all very well for you to talk too. Have you not come to me with the objective of vicious murder?

“You will not believe it, but I do not blame you for that. You are merely a victim of the system, after all. Though not for long when the Clockmaker opens the box for me.” Townsend sighed. “All that could have been avoided if they had not kept rejecting our petitions. It is not our fault that we were driven to take such drastic measures.

“What did we demand? Secret ballots, that all men above twenty-one should be able to vote, that everyone should be able to become a member of the parliament, frequent changes of parliament, equal electoral districts, and payments for members of parliament! They even rejected the last point. We have done our best to make ourselves be heard peacefully. See? Our demands were not even outlandish; we did not want to see Queen Victoria dethroned and beheaded. We only wanted to be heard.” A grin spread across his face, and he gently ran his hand over the box. “And heard we will be.” He pocketed the box and put his arms behind him. “Do not worry, Miss Watchdog. We do not wish any harm; we only want things to be better.”

“Yes, and for that, you kill innocent workers and villagers,” said Cloudia bitterly.

“They died for a higher cause. If you killed me now and took the box from me, wouldn’t their sacrifices have been in vain? This, my dear, is true villainy.”

Cloudia heard the clack of someone landing on the metal platform and cursed under her breath when it was not immediately followed by a shout or a gunshot or anything. Where was Cedric?

“Oh, my, there we meet again, Miss Watchdog,” Yvette said as she squeezed around Cloudia to stand before her.

“Where is Jacques?” Cloudia demanded to know.

“Ah, did you assume I fled to the front? I took little Jacques with me and went towards the back of the train after Maxime noticed you in the train station. It was a pain to make Jacques jump; thankfully, Maxime was with us too.

“Your friends are just as obnoxious as you are, do you know that? They got Jacques back, and if it had not been for Maxime, they would have caught me.” Yvette bent down to Cloudia and grinned. “All the more satisfying to see you caught.”

Yvette stood up again. “A few minutes until Paris now. They will crawl out from everywhere to chase us then; we need to be vigilant and escape on time.”

“Yes, of course,” replied Townsend. “Let’s head to the locomotive, Miss Guilloux,” he continued and something about the way he said that and Yvette’s smile in response bothered Cloudia. Yvette jumped first, and Townsend waved at Cloudia again before he followed her.

His henchmen, of course, stayed behind.

Cloudia was beginning to feel sore in this position. She knew she would be covered in bruises despite Wilbur’s special corset.

“Do you think Townsend would mind it if we blew holes into her pretty head?” enquired the gunman and bent down to press the barrel against Cloudia’s head. “It’s not as if he has any use for her, right?”

“A waste of such a pretty thing,” replied the man holding her down. “But she is only trouble. It’s better if she’s dead.”

The gunman grinned and moved the pistol down to her side. “Dirty girl stabbed me in the side; maybe, I should return the favour in the same area,” he mused.

Now that the gun was away from her head, Cloudia was about to try freeing herself, driven by the need to knock out his teeth, when she heard a godly, lovely clack.

The gunman yelled out in agony, his pistol flying out of his hand, just as the other man was pulled off her. Cloudia jumped to her feet, glimpsed Milton ahead of her by the end of the wagon, and fleetly rammed her knee into the gunman’s face. He was knocked out instantaneously, and she was maybe a bit too giddy to see that he had indeed lost a tooth or two.

Cloudia then looked around and saw Cedric uppercutting the other man into unconsciousness. She smiled watching him hastily check his pulse and place him on the ground with a sigh. She wanted to speak to him, to him and Milton both, but there was no time for that yet.

Unholstering her gun, Cloudia ran along the walkway to the front.

She was about to jump – and staggered back right before.

Townsend and Yvette had decoupled the locomotive from the rest of the train.

Yvette stood in the cab, happily waving at Cloudia as the gap between them widened.

Taking a deep breath, Cloudia took a run-up, bracing herself to make a longer jump than she had to do before when, suddenly, an arm was slung around her waist, pulling her back into the carriage. She yelled out, protested. The door was kicked shut. A terrible sound rang through the train. Milton shouted, “Kristopher! Pull on the ropes!”

Everything rattled and tilted – the wagon, the ground, Cloudia herself. If she had not been held, she might have fallen. The wheels shrieked like banshees, piercing her ears, echoing terribly through her skull.

And then the train came to a halt.

Right before an explosion sounded in the distance.

***

June 23

About 12:07

What on earth? Cloudia thought breathlessly as her mind and body slowly adjusted to the world calming down.

The hand on her waist was pulled away. In her periphery, Cloudia noticed Milton gazing through the door’s window. Her ears were still ringing from that hellish sound and the shrill wheels. Cedric appeared next to her. He said something that she could not make out. A brief wave of dizziness washed over her. Nonetheless, Cloudia forced herself to stumble to the window too and see for herself.

Their wagon and the rest of the train were standing still. The locomotive was several metres ahead of them and giving off unusual amounts of smoke.

What on earth? Cloudia thought anew and rubbed her ears awake.

“Are you all right, Countess?” she finally heard Cedric say. This time, she knew to nod. Passengers came out of the cabins, their voices hammers that punched against her bruised ears.

Someone emerged from the cloud of smoke outside too, running away.

“Countess?” said Cedric behind her just as she kicked open the wagon door, jumped out, and ran.

***

London, England, United Kingdom – May 1843

~Cloudia~

After the tense conversation in her father’s office, Barrington had insisted that he would remain in the Phantomhive townhouse. Cloudia did not exactly mind having him around even if he could be a handful; only the circumstances and the length of his stay made her stomach churn.

Barrington was rooting himself in her townhouse to keep an eye on Oscar, and he would only dislodge when Oscar was gone again. This did not refer to Oscar eventually passing away (Barrington would have preferred if it did, particularly if Oscar died in the foreseeable future; Cloudia would rather kill them both than live with them for decades) but to Oscar’s moving date. The Queen had provided him with a secret house because Oscar could not stay with Cloudia forever after all.

Cloudia might need to watch over him, but his constant presence in her homes would prevent her from receiving visitors and fulfilling any of her societal duties. In the brief time Cloudia had known Oscar, she was rather sure she could tell him to stay in a room with an adjourning bathroom and not come out, and he would obey with no protest or difficulty. He would likely survive being locked up like that. It felt horrendous though, to retrieve Oscar from a cell and throw him in another. His movements were limited now already, restricting them even more to a single room seemed too much.

But then, as Barrington had drilled into her, Oscar was a serial murderer who did not deserve anything at all.

The day had stretched itself long and thin due to all the hostility Barrington had brought with him. They had taken lunch all together; throughout it, Barrington had been on the verge of cutting Oscar’s throat with a steak knife. For dinner, Cloudia had simply sent Oscar to eat alone in his room.

Now, although Cloudia had done nothing all day as she was still recovering from her last attack, she was exhausted. When they had all retreated to bed for the night, Cloudia had been surprised that Barrington had not insisted on chaining himself to Oscar (with a chain long enough that they did not have to sleep in the same room, of course).

The Queen had said the house would be ready after a probation period of a month for Oscar. If this was what the first day of living with him and Barrington was like, I wished I could hibernate for the next few weeks. Perhaps, I could temporarily move in with Kamden.

Right after Cloudia finished a chapter of her book, Oscar knocked softly on her door before letting himself in. “You looked like you wanted to talk to me all day,” he explained. “I hope it is not too late.”

“No, I don’t think I could have fallen asleep with all these questions on my mind,” Cloudia said and put her book on the bedside cabinet. “You can sit down by the desk or vanity if you like.”

Oscar shook his head. “I prefer to keep standing. What do you want to know after you spoke to Weaselton?”

“Did you ever do anything personal to Barrington? He hates you so much; it makes me wonder whether you spit into his tea once.”

“No, not at all,” Oscar replied and went to stand by the window. The drapes had been pulled across it, blocking out the world beyond. “Weaselton has always disliked me for the same reasons as everyone else does. It’s unsurprising that this dislike intensified into hate. I did murder plenty of people after all, though I never spit into anyone’s tea, no matter how annoying they were. Trudy’s best friend tended to be rather bothersome, and my old partner knew very little about personal space. I have become quite accustomed to this type of person because of them. I suppose I did not mind Simon’s company because he was the opposite.”

“I see.” Cloudia dug her fingers into her blanket. “Barrington does not trust you.”

“This is very obvious to everyone, yes.”

“His distrust is not baseless though.”

“Of course. Now you are asking yourself if you can trust me?”

“Yes,” said Cloudia firmly.

Oscar leaned against the windowsill and crossed his arms. “This is something you have to decide for yourself,” he said. “I cannot make you trust me. Any plea of mine will fall on deaf ears if even a part of you simply does not want to place any confidence in me. I have no desire to make any plea though; I do not care if you believe in me or not.

“However, I remind you that this current situation is of your own doing. You do not need to trust me for us to work together, but you must figure out if the distrust you harbour for me impedes our cooperation and makes you lose confidence in your own choice. I can only say that I have neither any desire nor incentive to betray you.”

“And do you have no desire to kill anyone too?” Cloudia enquired Her heart raced at the question.

“I have no desire to kill anyone unless I must.”

“Really? Was it like that with your victims too?”

Oscar looked blankly at her. “Yes,” he said, making her shiver. “I hope you are well aware that I cannot impart any details of my crime to you.”

“Yes, of course.” Cloudia hesitated before she asked, “Do you think you must kill the person that opened your basement door?”

Oscar did not flinch, did not stiffen; he only became very, very still, and it was more than enough of a sign that Cloudia had caught him off-guard. She could not believe she had managed to do that. The implication of it, however, prevented her from rejoicing internally. She only tightened her grip on the blanket, her blood running cold.

“No,” Oscar said ultimately. “I have never had the desire or even the thought to kill or harm that person.”

Cloudia blinked at him. “Truly? Barrington was certain that you plotted to take revenge since you were imprisoned and would now wait for the perfect opportunity to strike.”

“Weaselton has nothing but a lively imagination. As I said, killing that person has never crossed my thoughts and it never will.” Oscar looked at her. “You do not need to worry about the wellbeing of a person you do not know and likely never will. If you do not take my word for this, I’m afraid I can only offer Rowan’s as well.” Like the last time, he had mentioned the police commissioner, a shadow crossed Oscar’s face. “There are not many who know about that person’s identity and know that I would not do what Weaselton is theorising.”

“Only Rowan? Not Mayne too?” Cloudia wanted to know.

“Yes. They may be joint police commissioners, but Rowan has always handled everything connected to me. Although Mayne surely knows some things about my crimes and imprisonment, the details are only privy to Rowan within the Metropolitan Police.”

“I’ve been wondering,” said Cloudia, “why you don’t seem to like Rowan. Not because I believe he is someone so pleasant it would be shocking if someone did not like him but because I know you have known him since your military days. He recruited you to Scotland Yard too. I assumed you, at least, tolerated each other until your imprisonment and was surprised to notice that you cannot even say his name without looking like you’re about to vomit.”

“Well observed,” Oscar said dryly. “You are right. I’ve known Rowan since I was fifteen years old because we were both part of the 52nd Oxfordshire Regiment of Foot. At first, he was the regiment’s second-in-command, and he became my commanding officer when we were sent to Ireland years later. As such, Rowan became one of the few people I ever told about Trudy as I had to ask him for permission to get married. I wish we had delayed our wedding a little because he retired from the military not long afterwards. Things might have turned out very differently if Rowan had never known about Trudy, and Trudy had never known about him.”

“What… what do you mean?”

Oscar’s eyes darkened. “We have spoken about trust. Harm lies in both baseless distrust and misplaced faith. I told you what Trudy was like. She was the most wonderful, intelligent person with a heart full of trust, though she never gave away her trust freely. However, because Rowan was the person who had, in her words, ‘looked after me’ since I was a teen and I had no family left, she reached out to him to give him a chance. He attended our wedding; he knew about my children.”

Even though Oscar grew quiet, Cloudia could see that he could barely restrain his feelings. She might not have known him for too long but, to her, Oscar was someone who was mostly calm and collected; someone who did their utmost to conceal their emotions, or who had difficulties expressing them plainly and openly. Most of the time, he seemed oddly subdued, and it was very difficult, albeit not completely impossible, to read him. His mask had cracked before though. Unbound feelings had broken through his surface when Oscar had spoken about his family in that inn after Cloudia had retrieved him from the asylum and in the parlour a few days earlier.

The gentleness and plain love that had found their ways in the tone of his voice and the lines of his face had startled her then; now, the pure loath that seeped through with every word Oscar spoke as he went on did too.

“I do not care for my own life, Lady Phantomhive. I am not thankful that you saved it; you will, however, have my deepest gratitude for preventing my execution and making Rowan seethe. He must have counted down the days until I was finally dead, and he could wash himself free of me. Only he could not have foreseen what you had planned. Now I am still alive, and Rowan cannot do anything about that unless he can prove that I violated the terms of our contract, Mylady.

“I’ve known Rowan for most of my life and, still, I have not realised until recently how despicable a man he is, and it brings me great joy to know that my existence continues to haunt him and that I can now work for you, his despised Queen’s Watchdog, and against him.”

#watchdog of the queen #main chapters #kuroshitsuji #cloudia phantomhive #undertaker #fanfiction #ANOTHER CHAPTER AFTER 84 YEARS!!! #I anxiety wrote and edited it #please cross your fingers for me that uni people will answer my emails next week #I'm dying orz #anyway #this chapter does not have over 30k words #I couldn't have done that anyway and the last and only 30k chapter still haunts me #it ended up being almost 15.5k because I last-minute decided to add the 1843 section #that one's for you A-chan! XD #I also noticed that next chapter is the 30th MAIN chapter and omg #500k in 30 (main) chapters would be it! #'just' 20k to the goal orz (kill me)

[layce2015]

Sneak Peek #2 for The Boys Fic (Soldier Boy x Female!Supe!Reader)

(A/n: Soooo…hey everybody! I know it has been awhile since my last post, which announced that I was gonna do a The Boys fic, and I am sorry for the wait. For anyone wondering, yes I am still doing it I’ve just been dealing with every writer’s worst nightmare….Wirter’s Block!

Mainly it’s cause the show doesn’t give a whole lot of Soldier Boy’s backstory and I’ve been adding some flashbacks into my fic that shows how Soldier Boy and (y/n) interacted. But all we got of Soldier Boy’s past is from other people’s perspective and maybe some mentions from the man himself. So it has been a rough to come up with scenarios from little information we got. So I stepped back from it for a bit. But now I’m back on working on it and I have at least two and a half chapters written out and it’s supposed to have at least 8 chapters. But it could be more if Soldier Boy ends up appearing in season 4.

Anyway, to prove that I am working on this fic, here is another sneak peek for the fic.)

"Well, we got to talk. I think I have something, thanks to my informant." Maeve said and she hands him a folder. "Informant?" Butcher asked as he takes the file and opens it to see some pages of information and pictures of Soldier Boy. "Soldier Boy. So what?" Butcher said as he looks up at her.

"Remember how he died?" Maeve asked him. "Stopping a nuclear meltdown in Ohio. '83, '84, I think, got buried beneath a reactor. Always thought it was bollocks." Butcher said. "Yeah, you thought right. Read." She tells him and he reads the file.

"What's B.C.L. RED?" He asked. "If you believe the rumors, it's the thing that killed Soldier Boy. My informant said it's some kind of gun or weapon or something. Had to have been a fսcking H-bomb. He was nearly as strong as..." Maeve said as Butcher looks through the file and looks at some pictures.

"If we can find this...weapon or whatever it is, maybe we can use it to blow Homelander's fսcking brains out." Maeve said. "If it is real, not some fսcking fable." Butcher said then he picks up the team-up picture of Payback. "Payback." Butcher mutters before he scoffs. "What a bunch of fսcking wankеrs." He said as he stares at photo. "When The Seven passed them as the number one super team, Crimson Countess sent me a box of cat shit. But not all of them were bad. She was a close friend of Soldier Boy and his ex-girlfriend." Maeve said as she gestures to the photo and points at the red-haired woman in the red outfit who was standing on the right of Soldier Boy.

"And, uh, Gunpowder was his sidekick." She said as she points at the young teen who was standing at Soldier Boy's left. "If anyone knows what happened to him, they do." Maeve said while Butcher noticed Noir in the photo. "Your mate Noir was in Payback. Why don't you ask him?" He asked her and Maeve scoffs. "Even if that walking tumor could talk, it wouldn't be to me." She said and Butcher looks at the photo again and noticed a woman standing on the other side of Gunpowder.

She looked about in her late twenties, her long (h/c) hair was braided and she was wearing a dark blue body-suit and a gold belt and knee high boots, a matching cape on her shoulders.

"Is that...?" Butcher started to ask and Mavee nodded. "Mystic Shade, yeah." She said. "Haven't heard that name in years." Butcher said and Maeve shrugs. "She retired sometime after Soldier Boy's death. She was fucking Soldier Boy." Maeve said as Butcher flips to another photo and this one was of Soldier Boy and Mystic Shade together. They were both smiling and Mystic Shade was hugging Soldier Boy as he had an arm around her waist.

Butcher then looks at Maeve. "Well then, I should be visiting her, not these two knobs." Butcher said but Maeve shakes her head. "No, Mystic Shade is off limits." She said, firmly, and Butcher gives her a curious look. "And why is that, princess?" Butcher asked and Maeve just glares at him.

Suddenly, it clicks with him. "Mystic Shade is your informant, isn't she?" He asked and Maeve averts his gaze and he smiles, knowing he was right. "Fine! Yes, she was the one that gave me this information. But she told me, specifically, that she didn't want to be questioned because this is all she wanted to give." Maeve said and Butcher watches her. "So, please, don't go bothering her." Maeve demanded.

"Well, well, well, didn't know you had such a soft spot for Mystic Shade." Butcher said and Maeve sighs. "We've been in communication for almost a year. Then when she heard about Homelander and all the fucked up things he's done and how I want him gone, she provided this." Maeve said and Butcher gives her a look that basically said he knew there was more to it.

"Fine, she was one of the heroes I looked up to when I was a kid, okay! Unlike most of these assholes, she actually cares about people." Maeve said. "Oh, I doubt that." Butcher said. "Doubt it all you want but it's the truth." Maeve said as she digs into her purse and pulls out a little bag. "Here." She said and Butcher takes the bag, unzips it and sees small vials of green liquid.

"What's this?" He asked her. "It's Temp V. One shot makes you a Supe for 24 hours. I mean, they think. It's still in R&D." Maeve said and Butcher gives her a look. "Oh, great, so powers, maybe. Maybe my bollocks swell up like footballs. Yeah?" Butcher said, sarcastically. "Payback may be a bunch of fսck holes, but they're strong. And they're dangerous. If you're going against them, you're gonna need it." Maeve warns.

"And what makes you think that me, of all people, would want to turn into one of you?" Butcher asked her as he takes a step closer to her. "This is our best chance to kill Homelander. Don't fսck it up." She said.

(A/n: And here is another peek, this is one of the flashbacks.)

I walk up to the stage as Doctor Vought was at the microphone, talking. Then he turns to me and holds his arm out to me. “Now please welcome the new hero, Mystic Shade!” He said and I push back all of my negative emotions and smile and wave as I walk up to him while the crowd applauded.

I go to Dr. Vought and he shakes my hand then kisses both of my cheeks then leads me to the microphone. Once I get to the microphone, Dr Vought said. “Now, Mystic Shade, will be taking questions.”

And a flood of voices saying over here, over here chanted out and Vought points to a random person. “Yes, you there!” He calls out. “How does it feel to be selected to join by Dr. Vought?” A male voice called out. “Um, it is an incredible opportunity here. And I’m very excited to join.” I replied then more raised hands and voices. Dr Vought pointed out to a different man. 

“When did you first discover your powers?” The second man asked me. “I was about fifteen or sixteen years old when I found out. I guess I was alway born with them it just didn’t develop until I became a teenager.” I replied. “And what are they? I mean, what can you do?” The man asked. “Well, I’m strong, I can move objects without touching them and I can make shields to protect myself and people around me.” I replied and there was a series of ooh’s and aah’s across the crowd. 

Then another round of hands shooting up in the air and Dr Vought points at another hand. "So, are you gonna help out with the war? If so, how does it feel to be the first woman to be out in the field?" The third man asked. "It is something I never would've imagined but I want to help out not just the country but the people who are involved." I said then another man calls out.

​​​​​​"So what's it feel like to achieve everything you hoped for?" He asked and I paused at this. Truth is I didn't achieve anything, this is all a lie. I wanted to scream that out so badly but I couldn't as I stood there frozen. "I-I, uh..." I stammered then Vought comes up to me and places his hands on my shoulders. "I'm sure she feels fantastic. She's being very modest right now. Not being used to this kind of attention can make anyone freeze. So let's give a hand for our new hero!" Vought said and there was applause and I give a small, weak smile.

Minutes later, I walk out on the balcony and took in a deep breath then let it out. Being in that ballroom suffocated me. I lean against the stone railings of the balcony and took in some quick breathes until anger rose in my chest and I slam my fists down on it, making the stone crack. "Whoa-ho, remind me not to make you angry." A male voice said, a bit of a laugh in his tone. 

I jumped at this, not expecting anyone out here, and look to my left to see a man, in a army uniform with a long coat, standing some feet away from me. "I'm not in the mood to talk." I grumbled and I look out on the balcony. "I figured. Saw you up on that stage....and well, here..." he said and I look over at him and see him holding a bottle out to me.​​​​​ "You need this more than me."

"Did you steal that from party?" I asked him. "More like borrowing." He said, shrugging, and I chuckled a bit then take the bottle from him. "Thank you." I said and I begin to drink from it. "I'm guessing rough day?" He asked me. “You could say that.” I muttered and I take another drink from the bottle. 

“These Vought parties are never what the public thinks they are. The only good things here are the food, the booze…and the pretty women.” He said and he gives me a flirtatious smile. I giggled a little and smile, which I just realized is my first genuine smile I’ve made in months. “I’m flattered but…I’m married.” I tell him and he has a surprised look on his face.

”I don’t believe that.” He said and I raise an eyebrow at him. “Oh? And why is that?” I asked him. “No sane man, especially a husband, would leave you out here on your own.”  He said and I laugh a little again. “Maybe, I wanted to be alone.” I said and he shrugs a little. “You may have a point. But, even so, shouldn’t be out here alone. Some stranger could try to chat you up.” He said. “Like you?” I asked him, smiling, and he chuckles.

”Yeah…” he mutters and we share a small laugh then he holds his hand out to me. “I’m Ben.” He introduces and I take his hand. “(Y/n).” I said as we shake hands. “(Y/n), beautiful name for a beautiful woman.” He said and I give a bashful smile to him. “Thank you.” I said then he kisses the back of my hand and I felt my heart leap in my chest.

I haven’t felt this way in a long time, not since I married my husband. 

“So, you happily married?” He asked me and my smile falters. “Judging by that frown, I’m guessing not.” Ben said and I sighed. “Just…going through a tough time right now.” I said. “That’s why I never married, when the tough times come in, there’s nothing to tie you down.” Ben said and I nod at this. “I’m starting to think that’s a good idea.” I said before I drink from the bottle again.

At that moment, we hear the door open behind us and I look over my shoulder to see it was Adam. “There you are.” Adam said as he comes up to me. Then he looks over at Ben and seems surprised. “Oh, I see you’re talking to your teammate.” He said and I furrow my brow. “Huh?” I said and Adam places an arm around my shoulder. “This is Soldier Boy. Your partner in the war.” Adam tells me and I was surprised by this.

I have heard the name Soldier Boy but I didn’t know what he looked like since I was trapped in that lab for the last few months.

I look over at Ben and he gives me a smile. “Surprise?” He asked me. “I’m sorry. Please forgive me for not recognizing you, sir.” I said to him. “It’s fine, just don’t go forgetting my face now.” He said, smiling, and I chuckled. “I most certainly will not.” I said and he nods.

”Well, I’ll leave you two alone. I’m sure I’m needed in there.” Ben said as he gestures to the door. And I felt a little sad about him leaving, I was kinda enjoying his company. “You two have a good evening.” Ben said as he walks over to the door. “And you as well.” Adam said then Adam turns to me as I look out on the balcony.

”I see you already starting the night off.” Adam said, gesturing to the bottle of champagne in my hands, but I don’t respond as I look over my shoulder in time to see Ben go to the door. It seemed he sensed me and he looks over his shoulder at me then smiles and gives me a wink before he walks in.

My heart absolutely fluttered at this and I felt my face go red before I look back out on the balcony.

#fandom #fanfic #fan fiction #reader insert #x reader #fan fic writing #soldier boy x you #soldier boy x y/n #soldier boy x reader #the boys tv #the boys #jensen ackles #soldier boy #sneak peak

[connan-l]

Now that Season 7's first trailer is out, it slightly validated some of my theories about which chapters is going to be adapted — so I decided to make a prediction of what Seasons 7 & 8 could looks like (I mean, we still don't have any confirmation for Season 8, but there's no way we don't get it, right?) I'm probably going to be very wrong but it was fun to try and think about!

I'm going to make the assumption that we'll get 13 episode instead of 11 because of something fun I found out: so far there's been 74 episodes of NatsuYuu (OVAs notwithstanding), which means that if we add two seasons of 13 episodes we'll reach the 100 :) So I hope we actually do get 13 episodes this time (I've also seen some people wondering if we'll exceptionnally get a 22 or 26 episodes season because of the 15th/20th years anniversary, which could be fun but I doubt they'll do that sadly).

Season 7:

Episode 1: Chapter 84 (Mini-Nyanko) Episode 2: Chapter 80 (Yorishima intro) Episode 3: Chapter 77 (Hakozaki 2) Episode 4: Chapter 83 (Kitamoto bookstore) Episode 5: Special 17/84.5 (Teen Matonato 2) Episode 6: Chapters 95 & 96 (Isamu arc) Episode 7: Chapter 81 (Flower bed) Episode 8: Chapters 92-94 (Miharu arc) Episode 9: Chapters 92-94 (Miharu arc) Episode 10: Chapter 87 (Nishimura) Episode 11: Special 8/31.5 (Chobi special) Episode 12: Chapters 88 & 89 (Souko arc) Episode 13: Chapters 88 & 89 (Souko arc)

Season 8:

Episode 1: Chapter 71 (Ake & Shiro) Episode 2: Special 14/67.5 (Birds & Reiko) Episode 3: Chapters 106 & 107 (Yorishima arc 2) Episode 4: Chapters 90 & 91 (Tenjou-san/painting arc) Episode 5: Special 19/89.5 (Matoba station) Episode 6: Chapters 85 & 86 (Tanatsutaki inn arc) Episode 7: Chapters 85 & 86 (Tanatsutaki inn arc) Episode 8: Chapter 99 (Origami) Episode 9: Chapter 108 (Chobi) Episode 10: Chapters 100-104 Homura arc Episode 11: Chapters 100-104 Homura arc Episode 12: Chapters 100-104 Homura arc Episode 13: Chapter 105 (Post-Homura)

For Season 7: I know some people wish the season could start with the exorcist chapters, but I think it makes more sense we begin with a ‘normal’ slice-of-life Natsuyuu episode rather than the more heavy stuff. It’s been seven years, after all; they need to reestablish the series’ characters and world properly, and I think chapter 84 with the clay mini-nyanko is th best one for that. I mean, in this chapter we have: Natsume returning a name, mentions of Reiko & the book, cameos of Tanuma and the Fujiwaras (the anime could probably briefly add Kitanishi, Taki & Sasada too), and a bittersweet story about a yokai Natsume befriends — so I think it’s perfect for a new start to a new season. Then it makes sense to follow this up with the exorcist stuffs in episodes 2 & 3. I'm hesitating which one would go first though; if we follow the manga chronologically then it would be the Hakozaki one, but I think they'll likely choose to reintroduce Natori first... I do believe it's important to introduce Yorishima early on too so that they can later adapt the second Yorishima arc in Season 8, to really establishes him as this new important recurrent character. (Though I wonder if 2 exorcist episodes side-by-side would be too much, so maybe they'll adapt Yorishima intro for ep2, then have another slice-of-life episode, then have the Hakozaki chapter.... who knows)

After that I’m no sure on the order, but there must also be the Taki brother arc for a Taki-focused episode, then the Kitamoto & Nishimura chapters. I think it’d makes sense to adapt both of the Kitanishi chapters in season 7 so that then in season 8 they could adapt the Tenjou-san/painting arc in order to make it feel balanced (or they could do the reverse and adapt Tenjou-san arc before in season 7, but I think it's better if it comes after). And then have the flower bed chapter as another slice-of-life episode (which I think is important to have before the Souko arc thematically). Not gonna lie it really frustrates me that they decided to adapt the Tanuma & Misuzu chapters in a movie, because now Tanuma doesn’t have his own arc like Taki has :( At least he still appears more than her in other arcs, but they’re not focused on him so it’s not the same.

So the Chobi special from Volume 8 might seems weird to be in season 7, and admittedly I doubt it'll ever be adapted (maybe in an OAV?? But who knows) - but I thought about it because of Chapter 108 which is also centered on Chobi. Having the Chobi special before Chapter 108 seemed logical to me, though there's more chance we'll get another special like Special 14 or 18. (UNLESS they manage to adapt the Chobi special with Chapter 108 in a single episode... I dunno).

And there's no way they don't adapt the second teen Natori special, which has to be before Miharu arc. I think the Miharu arc will happens either in the middle or towards the end of the season, but I believe having Souko's arc as the final would be pretty emotionally impactful, with ideally 2 episodes. It’s the origin of the Book of Friends after all, so it’s important to really highlight it (though I doubt they'll do that unfortunately, I think they'll likely try to cram everything into a single episode as usual with the 2 chapters arcs -_-).

For Season 8: I think it makes sense to start with slice-of-life chapters with this season too, but admittedly I wasn't really sure which one. The Ake & Shiro or the origami chapters seems the more likely. Then there's still Special 14, which could also make a fun slife-of-life episode.

The Tenjou-san/painting arc and then the Noren inn arc in this season was more fitting than the last in order to balance the focus on Natsume's school friends - and like I said earlier, even though chronologically it happens later in the manga I think they will adapt the second Yorishima arc as well here. I think it’d make sense they decide to adapt the special with Matoba here too (It could be in Season 7 I suppose? But then it would a wayyy too exorcist-focused season).

What I’m the most confident in is that they’ll decide to end Season 8 with the Homura arc, and that it’ll take 3 episodes. This is such a long, important arc, and if they don’t mess it up it would make an amazing final; especially if after that we don’t get another new season until at least a few years.

(Hopefully we won’t have to wait 6 years for Season 9 afterwards… There was 2 years between Season 2 and Season 3, and then 4 years between Season 4 and Season 5, so if Season 8 is released in 2025 then I hope we’ll get Season 9 in like. 2028-2029. please.)

Anyway, just for fun I tried to imagine what a Season 9 could look like too:

Season 9:

Episode 1: Chapters 109 & 110 (Kaka arc) Episode 2: Chapters 117 & 118 (Occult salon arc) Episode 3: Chapter 112 (Taki Matoba tea party) Episode 4: Chapters 113-116 (Younger Cousin arc) Episode 5: Chapters 113-116 (Younger Cousin arc) Episode 6: Chapters 113-116 (Younger Cousin arc) Episode 7: Chapter 111 (Tanatsukitanishi beach) Episode 8: Chapter 120 (Hakozaki 3) Episode 9: Chapters 121-126 (Portrait of a Girl arc) Episode 10: Chapters 121-126 (Portrait of a Girl arc) Episode 11: Chapters 121-126 (Portrait of a Girl arc) Episode 12: Chapters 121-126 (Portrait of a Girl arc) Episode 13: Chapters 127 (Homura cats returns)

This would make for a super plot-heavy season, but well all the recent arcs ARE very plot-focused lol. I initially thought that maybe the Portrait of a Girl arc could make it more to a potential Season 10 while the younger cousin arc could the final for Season 9, but ending the season on such a personal, Natori-focused arc like that would be a bit... strange. So! If we have Portrait of a Girl as a final, I think it makes sense for the occult salon arc to be at the very start of the season to introduce Shinobu and Clara (I vaguely thought it would be fun if they introduced them in Season 8, but the idea of a whole season where we start with the looming threat of Matoba's mysterious sister only to have her identity revealed at the very end is really cool too). I think the beach chapter too could be nice after the Natori arc as a sort of break before we got back into the heavy plot stuff with the 3rd Hakozaki chapter. I gave Portrait of a Girl 4 episodes here because I think it's what it wolud need to be properly adapted (it IS the longest arc to date after all, with 6 chapters!) but because of that I had to scrap the Hinoe chapter (which could then be adapted into Season 10). However I think it's more likely they adapt it into a three-episodes arc sadly (same thing with the Younger Cousin arc, they'll probably cram it into 2 episodes rather than three...)

And here it is haha. Can't wait to see how completely false my predictions will be lol.

Following this, the still unadapted chapters would include: Chapter 119 (Hinoe/Natsume crossdressing), Chapter 128 (current arc) that would fit into Season 10, then Special 18 (Nyanko meets little boy), Special 20 (movie special), Special 21 (little traveling yokai), Special 22 (Ribbon Nyanko & Mana Kitamoto), all of which could either fit in Season 10 or in an OAV.

#Natsume Yuujinchou #NatsuYuu #Natsume's Book of Friends #Natsuchou #Natsume Takashi #Nyanko-sensei #Natsume

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

Ghosts

Summary: A phone call from a stranger with news about a man from a life you had left behind a long time ago, brings back many memories, making you travel from France to New York City for one last time. Only for a promise made twenty years ago to wait for you once you are back home.

Pairing: John Wick x fem. reader

Rating: G

Wordcount: 1.5k

Warnings: !! spoilers for John Wick Chapter 4 !! do not read this if you don't want to be spoiled for the movie (this is an attempt on a fix it fic lmao), guns, death, angst, fluff

A/N: yeah I know it's been 84 years but here I am with my silly little John Wick fic, trying to make sense of the movie I watched two days ago. Summary is a lil vague cause spoilers

follow @toomanystoriessolittletime-fics to get notified for new fic updates

You jumped awake, uncertain what it was that woke you up. 

Groaning your eyes found the time on the alarm clock on your bedside table, showing you that it was just after 3 am. Was it a nightmare? You had those, even though not as frequently as before. Out of instinct you reached under your bed, finding the familiar shape of your gun still in place. 

You hadn’t actually used a gun in almost twenty years, yet knowing it was there gave you a sense of safety, your mind wandering to the last time you had used it. 

The night you died. 

The night you left your old life. 

The night he killed you. 

Your life had been planned out for you before you even took your first breath. You were the future head of the Ruska Roma, your fathers pride and joy. 

You never had a choice in that matter. 

You learned hundreds of ways to kill a person, had material art lessons daily followed by lessons learning every single detail about the high table and your family's enemies, making you a killing machine before you even turned thirteen years old. 

It was on your thirteenth birthday that you met John Wick for the first time. 

He was older than you, at least ten years, but there was something in his eyes that seemed familiar to you. It was the same look you saw every day when you looked into the mirror. Sadness, Anger, Emptiness. 

He spent a year working exclusively for your father, doing his dirty work, before he disappeared like a ghost into the night. 

Almost twelve years would pass before you and John would meet again.

He became a friend, if you had friends in the world you had been born into. Maybe even your only friend. And so much more. He trained you, his reputation proceeding him, his name only whispered in the underground as if he would appear out of thin air if you dared to speak out his name. 

Spending time with John became an escape to the ever lingering pressure all around you, your personal challenge becoming to make him crack the facade he put on, for just a tiny glimpse at the man behind the myth.

It was when your father announced your engagement to another future member of the high table, catching you totally off guard, that gave you finally the strength to plan your way out. 

You knew survival was almost impossible. 

So you had to die. 

And who better to help you make your death believable than the boogeyman himself?

Shaking your head out of the memory of John, blinking away the many pictures of his soft smile as you woke up in his arms day after day before you disappeared you sighed. 

It had been almost twenty years since you last saw him, since he promised once he got out for good he would find you, but sometimes you still found yourself thinking about him. He had been your best friend and so much more. The first man you kissed, the first man you slept with. 

Your phone buzzed and you reached for it, your eyes frowning at the foreign number. 

“Hello?” you said. 

A sigh was heard on the other end of the line. 

“This is… My name is Winston and I am calling for Jonathan Wick….”

Getting to New York undetected must have been the single most anxious task of your life. You hadn’t been back here since you kissed your former life goodbye. 

But it was John. 

And Winston, who you learned was the Manager of the New York Continental Hotel, assured you that your safety would be assured if you chose to travel to John’s funeral. 

“John and I may have had our issues, but he made me promise to keep an eye on you if anything would ever happen to him,” he had told you. 

It was from him that you learned that even though you hadn’t talked or seen John since that night, John had very much kept up with you and your life. To make sure you were always safe. 

You learned that he got out too before because he fell in love, got married to the woman he loved before she died from a long illness, the aftermath of that sucking him back into the underworld where he fought for his freedom before he eventually found it and died on the steps of the Sacré-Cœur in Paris. 

Only two hours away from the small town you had called home for the last couple of years. 

You weren’t prepared how much the news of his death would hurt. 

While learning that he got out for another woman hurt when you first learned about it, in the end you were happy he got to experience love and life apart from the underworld.

Sure, he could have died without you knowing it since you lost contact. But knowing that he still cared about you even after all these years, made you so fucking sad and happy at the same time. 

Winston and someone who named himself the Bowery King (you did not ask any questions) had left you alone at the graveyard, a trusted security detail from Winston staying behind as you stood under the umbrella facing John Wick’s grave. 

Loving husband it read beneath his name.

It brought a small smile to your lips. 

When you were younger you always pictured him when you dreamed of getting married. But that was all it was. 

A dream. 

John Wick was the first man you loved, maybe the only man you really loved. 

“I hope you found your peace, Jonathan,” you whispered, your fingers brushing over his gravestone, before you set down a single rose on his stone and on Helen’s. His wife’s. 

You blinked away the tears.

“Thank you for keeping me safe,” you said with a sad smile on your lips before you slowly turned around and walked back to your car. 

It was early morning when the car drove through the tiny town of La Mare just on the coast of France. 

Was it totally insane taking a risky twenty four hour trip to New York City for a funeral of a man you hadn’t talked to in twenty years?

Yes. 

But you would do it again. 

You thanked the driver with a tired smile, watching him drive away as you searched for your keys in your purse. 

You had stayed to have a drink with Winston and meet with a lawyer from whom you learned that John had put you in his last will, making you the sole heir to everything he owned in case his wife died before him. 

After you had been driven back to the private airstrip where you took the private jet you had arrived with back to europe.

You just wanted to lay down and cry, the rollercoaster of feelings you had gone through since your phone call with Winston just two days ago still not really setting in. 

You unlocked the door, letting your bag fall down in the hallway as you shut the door behind you, leaning with your back against the door, taking a deep breath. 

This was so fucking silly. 

Why were you so heartbroken about a man you had said goodbye to before?

You got out of your shoes, walking down the long hallway towards the kitchen half asleep. You blamed it on that you did not hear the noise until you were walking through the door, stopping in your tracks at the man currently fighting with your coffee maker. 

Instinct set in and you silently walked to the table closest to you, intent on grabbing your gun when you found it gone. 

“If you’re looking for your gun, it’s right here,” your head turned towards the man who had now turned around, his head nodding towards your big kitchen Island where your gun was laying. 

Your eyes flew from him to the gun, before you looked at him again, your lips parting in a gasp. 

“John?” you whispered in disbelief. 

Slowly he walked towards you, limped really, before he came to a stop in front of you. 

He was older, his dark hair longer than the last time you had seen him. He was wearing sweatpants and a white shirt and you could see the bandages beneath it from where he must be hurt.

“I told you I would find you once I got out for good,” he said carefully, but you just kept looking at him like he was a ghost. A ghost from your past.

“Hope you don’t mind, I let myself in.”

“I... I was at your funeral,” you whispered. 

“I was at yours too,” he said. 

“You got married,” you said. He nodded. 

“But now you’re here.”

“But now I’m here.”

You took a step towards him, carefully reaching out, your hand coming to rest on his chest, just above his heart. 

“It’s been a long time,” you whispered. 

“Yeah.”

“A lot has happened since we last saw each other,” you said. He nodded.

“You wanna have breakfast and tell me all about it?” you asked. 

“Yeah. I’d love that.”

#my fic #John Wick #John Wick x fem. reader #Keanu Reeves #John Wick Chapter 4 spoilers #spoilers #fanfiction #fanfic #fan fiction

[finitepeace]

november: imi reads dramione

personal favorites are marked with ✿

haven't finished reading but I rec it anyway are marked with 🌱

dancing bears, painted wings by LovesBitca8 | Words:4,459, Mature | Hermione stared at him. And in a flash, something blurred in front of her eyes — some refraction of the light, like a prism of colors splashing over him. She remembered him from school so clearly for a moment. As if he had ever swept his arm out and allowed her to walk in front of him anywhere. It felt like another life. A different universe of events.

✿ The Right Thing To Do by LovesBitca8 | 174,911 words, 36 Chapters, E | Hermione felt the pounding in her ears again. She would see him for the first time since the Great Hall, gaunt and stricken at the Slytherin table with his mother clutching his arm. She hadn't meant to look for him. Not in the corridors, not beneath the white sheets of the fallen, not on the way to the Chamber of Secrets with Ron, but she was a stupid girl.

✿ Birth Right by LovesBitca8 | LUCISSA set in The Right Thing to Do universe. Words: 28,514 | not dramione but set in the same world as a dramione pairing.

✿ Things Without Remedy by onebedtorulethemall | Words: 157,581 Chapters: 32, E | workplace shenanigans, time travel | “Do you remember when I told the minister that the Time Turner isn’t a weapon?” “Yes.” “I was wrong. It is a weapon. In the wrong hands, it could—it could destroy everything.”

Love In A Time Of The Zombie Apocalypse by rizzlewrites | words: 356,342 Chapters: 84, E with gore | After Voldemort, there was this. The clock is ticking to create a cure to the unimaginable horror that currently grips the world. Hermione finds herself unwillingly allied with the most hated man in Wizarding Britain

🌱 A New Destiny by SentientScholar | 213K words, 38 Chapters, E, WIP last updated September 2023 | At the end of third year, Hermione learns something about Draco Malfoy that alters the trajectory of both of their lives.

Break For Me by Ada_P_Rix (Restricted) | 45.039 words, 4 Chapters, Hard E | Hermione gets into a little accident at work and is infected with a hybrid potion created to cause certain heightened side effects. Draco offers to stick around to give his work partner a little support … if he can Occludelong enough to resist her…

#dramione #dramione fic rec #dramione fic

[ignoremyworld]

ACCIDENTAL DATE

Part 1/?

CHAPTER ONE: THE CRASH

Not proofread

••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“Code blue! Code blue! I need four nurses in here now!” Nancy shouted, rushing to the patients room

It hadn’t even been thirty minutes since Steve’s shift started and he had a feeling they wouldn’t be able to save mrs.Andersons. She was a frail fragile old woman and Steve believed it was time for her to pass.

“Starting compressions” Steve said, putting his hands on mrs.andersons chest and beginning to start CPR. “Josh, see if you can find a DNR for mrs Andersons here.” He ordered, watching Josh run off to get her file.

“We’re losing her” another nurse shouted. Looking between the monitor and his watch in case she didn’t make it.

A long beeping noise made Steve sigh. “Time of death?” He asked the nearby nurse, hoping that mrs Andersons is in a better place.

“Time of death is 12:42 pm.” The nurse said. Jotting down everything he could in his little notebook.

When Josh came back mrs Andersons was gone. There wasn’t a DNR but they just couldn’t save her. Nancy called for another doctor to take her away for the mortician to take a look at her. Steve put his face in his hands, sat down and sighed, feeling like he didn’t do enough for her. He always felt like this after a patient death. Especially with people he was close to.

“Hey steve, it’s not your fault. You did everything you could. She was 84 years old, it was time honey” Robin said kneeling down in front of him to look him in the eyes.

“I know. I just can’t stop that feeling y’know? I wish I had done more for her before she passed.”

He says, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I know Steve. It’ll be okay. Do you want a hug?” Robin opened her arms for Steve to fall into, gently squeezing him and rubbing his back.

The sound of doctors and machines and people faintly talking was tuned out. He thought back to when his grandma passed. Sitting there beside her hospital bed and crying because he knew she was gone even before she left. She died holding his hand and rubbing it the way she used to when she was able to stand up and be at home.

She was like a mother to him. With his parents not being around as much she was left to take care of him. He remembers the last time they talked before she went to the hospital.

“Now listen Stevie. One day, youre gonna get two letters on your wrist. Just below the thumb. Those are your soulmates initials. And you’re gonna fall in love. And when that day comes, if the person you love is your soulmate those letters will fade away. Your papa and I were soulmates. As were your parents.”

He was laying his head down on her lap at the time. Just staring at the wall and listening to her calming voice. He remembered the day he got his initials. “E.M.” It said.

With his mind coming back from being trapped in that memory he found himself in the break room. Robin probably walked him there. He checked the time and it was now 1:36. Nancy came in to talk to him. She could tell he was having a rough time.

“Hey. If you need to you can go home. We’re overstaffed today anyway.” She said putting her hand on his shoulder.

Steve looked up at her with tears forming in his eyes. Refusing to let them slip out he blinked a few times. “Could I? I dunno why I’m taking this so hard” that was a lie. He very much knows why. He just doesn’t have the strength to say it.

“Of course. I’ll see you tomorrow” she said and walked out of the room.

Steve grabbed his coat, keys, phone and bag and walked out the door. He unlocked his car and started to drive. As he stopped at the first intersection he saw a group of men walking across the crosswalk. All wearing either leather jackets or jean jackets. They thanked him for stopping and he waved back.

He heard screaming behind him. Turned to look in his rearview mirror. A large black truck was speeding down the road, sirens following it. The truck got up to the intersection and hit someone.

Steve rushed out of his car and ran to the man’s aid. “Sir are you okay. I’m a nurse I can help a bit until we get you to the hospital” the man below him nodded and people stared. A few people were blocking more cars from coming into the intersection.

“What’s your name? I need to know your name.” Steve asked. Hoping the hospital had the man’s records.

His voice was soft coming out. Probably due to the wind being knocked out of him. “E-Eddie Mun-Munson” and then he passed out.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Hiii! I’m back after a looonnng time! I hope y’all are well! this is the first part to a series I’m doing! Can’t go wrong with a steddie soulmate au!

I hope y’all liked this first chapter! And as always constructive criticism and advice on writing is always appreciated!

#eddie munson #eddie stranger things #steddie #stranger things #eddie #steve harrington #steve stranger things #stevexeddie #modern stranger things #steve #steddie stranger things #rockstar eddie munson #nurse Steve Harrington

[aquagustd]

hell is empty - JJK, KTH

↳ PART 08 of hell is empty

life has a tendency to throw things your way when you least expect it, when you’re content, and the ominous presence knows exactly how to steer your existence back into the darkness.

prev | series masterlist | next [chapter summaries under masterlist]

pairing — drug lord!jungkook x reader, hotel owner!taehyung x reader

genre/rating — R | angst, fluff, smut, love triangle au

word count — 6.7K

play — daddy issues by the neighbourhood

warnings/tags — single parent!reader, pharmacy tech!reader, dad!JK, ex-boyfriend!JK, CEO!taehyung, strong language, some soft scenes, jealousy, yoongi acting sus again, tears, mentions of bl00d + gvns, oc revisits the past, she’s incredibly conflicted too, tae with his shirt unbuttoned yes, explicit smut — fingering, teasing, clit play, tongue sucking, biting/scratching, dirty talk, praise kink

note: it’s been 84 years…i hope you guys like this chapter <3

Guilt sits like an unbearable weight on your shoulders. Holding you down and preventing your thoughts from wandering elsewhere.

You’re sat on Jungkook’s couch with your legs tucked under your bum, watching with a rapid heartbeat as he seems to be arguing with someone on the phone. From your view, you see him pace from corner to corner in the kitchen, rubbing his forehead, lips pursed before he starts to yell again, free hand making sharp movements to get his point across before he gazes up to the ceiling in thought.

He ends the call and approaches the lounge, you busy yourself with your phone, blinking at your reflection in the dark screen.

Expecting him to take the couch opposite you, you don’t shift in your space until he chooses to sit down next to you, arm draped over the backrest to have his hand rest on your shoulder. Swallowing thickly, you turn to him, asking him the question despite not wanting to know the answer.

“Any luck?”

He shakes his head, toying with his earrings, “nothing yet. But my guys managed to locate the office from the lines connected to my phone. They caught one of them there.”

You hope he doesn’t notice the light sweat you manage to work up after hearing that.

That little information coupled with the fact that Jimin hasn’t been answering your calls since you got back from the trip has your entire body running cold.

“And…the guy they caught,” you begin, keeping your voice as nonchalant as possible, “did he say anything or…?”

He smacks his lips, staring at the table in thought. You wait a bit for his answer, the suspense enough to give you a heart attack.

“Nah,” he sighs, ringed fingers now curled around your shoulder, “nothing yet. What’s this?”

He points to the small container you brought along with you this morning, curiosity replacing the pensiveness in his eyes.

“Oh,” you breathe, bringing it into your lap and opening it up for him to peek into, “today is treat day at Junho’s school, and I made a kiddies’ version of a charcuterie board. I brought the extra bits for you to have.”

He hums lowly, plucking out one of the heart-shaped cookies to pop into his mouth.

“Thank you, it’s tasty.”

You meet his gaze, trying not to focus on the cute way he chews with his brows furrowed when he takes another one of the heart biscuits. Setting it down on the coffee table, you lean back in your seat, breath catching in your throat once you notice that he’s a lot closer than he was a few moments ago.

Goosebumps erupt on your skin when he trails his index finger down the side of your face, tonguing at his lip ring as he stares into eyes. Dark eyes boring into your soul.

“I’m thinking about how much you’ve changed,” he husks, taking a few strands of your hair between two fingers.

You gulp, eyes trained on his, “what do you mean?”

“No, you know…I never would’ve thought that you…the old you at least…would make such a good mother.”

Melting. You’re melting on the spot, heart pacing at a rapid beat for a totally different reason now.

“Really?”

He nods earnestly, chin scrunching up, “you are. You get what I mean right? Younger us…my ___. I never thought of us as parents.”

Your gaze drifts to your hands, playing with the buttons on your blouse, “we were really young then.”

He takes an audibly deep breath, nodding to himself, “you’re right.”

Squeaking when he lifts your chin with his thumb and forefinger, your gazes reconnect, breaths mingling as he parts his lips and shifts closer, pretty eyelashes dusting his cheeks as his eyes flutter shut.

No. You’ve spent the entire weekend thinking this through, and you didn’t lose sleep over it for you to make the same mistake again. As much as you want it.

Pressing your hand to his chest, you push him away lightly, disregarding the way your body reacts to that pleasant scent of his. He looks at you quizzically, face a little empty.

“Jungkook,” you mutter, chewing on your lip, “I…can’t do this again.”

You glance around the quiet space of his home, sitting up since you sunk in the couch cushions. Sora is here, you know it. You saw her car parked outside when you got here and now…now this is happening all over again.

“You’re getting married in August,” you say pragmatically, seeing his eyebrow jump as if this is news to him, “what’s this, Jungkook? And I’m not so bothered that you’re playing with my feelings, but Sora’s?”

He looks away, tongue prodding at his cheek. You dip your head to find his gaze, waiting for him to say something, but he keeps you in suspense again. A recent habit of his that you’re growing to dislike.

“Jungkook?”

In an instant, he’s got your warm cheeks between his equally heated palms, nose nearly brushing yours.

You don’t miss the way his lips quiver when he begins speaking, a lump forming in your throat, “when I get back, we’ll talk about this, okay?”

Right. He’s leaving tonight. And you don’t know when he’ll be back, still, you nod weakly.

“Okay.”

With a small chuckle, he lets you go. You spring up from the couch, shielding your tears by turning away from him.

“Where’s Smiley?”

He speaks around a mouthful of wafers, ankle propped on his knee, “in his room. He’s mad at me…you know why.”

As you expected. When Jungkook returned, the first thing he made clear was that he’ll be leaving soon, and you warned him that if he’s going to be spending time with Junho – he’s a child, all he ever wanted since he was of knowing age was to meet his father, talk to him, become his best friend and that’s exactly what he got – he’s going to get attached.

His room door is open a crack, enough for you to peek in and watch him mutter to himself as he struggles to fit on his tiny Nikes, sniffling as he goes.

“Smiley?” You whisper, entering the door with a soft creak of the door. He wipes his cheeks with the back of his hand, teary smile splitting his cheeks.

“Mama, can you help me?”

“Sure.”

Crouching beside him at the foot of the bed, you slide his socked foot inside the shoe, watching his face carefully.

“These are cool, did dad get them for you?”

“Yeah,” he says mindlessly, “we got matching ones.”

You giggle, slipping on the other one before pulling him into your arms, kissing the crown of his head.

“Dad will be back soon.”

He hugs your arms, whimpering, “I’m scared.”

Worriedly, you tilt his body so he faces you, cupping his cheeks, “scared? What’re you scared of baby?”

His doe eyes are glazed with tears, voice cracking with his words which shatters your heart into a million tiny pieces.

“That dad won’t come back.”

Your breath hitches, tears brimming your own eyes as he repeats his words, sobbing into your shoulder. Rocking him back and forth, you keep him pressed to you as you rise from the carpeted floor, whispering words of comfort into his ear.

“He’ll come back Smiley, don’t worry.”

Despite the fact that you share the same fear.

Junho refuses to say goodbye to his dad, rushing over to your car to wait for you. You don’t miss the way Jungkook’s expression cracks as he watches his son dash past him, waiting there with open arms. But you drag Junho back, making sure that he gives his dad a hug because you know he’s going to think about it later. And as much as you berated Junho for doing so, you think it’s his way of coping, he doesn’t want to bid farewell because he’s afraid that it might be his last.

You know, because you’re afraid too.

It’s funny how Jungkook watches Junho stomp away, with his eyebrows pinched together, chewing on the corner of his mouth with irritation. He seems surprised by the way Junho leaves, but all you do is shrug since he’s a replica of his dad. Acting the same way whenever he was annoyed about something.

Jungkook returns to the kitchen, humming as he washes the dishes with Sora standing behind him at the stovetop.

It’s been a while since you’ve seen her, last was that night at the club…You look between the two of them, wondering if Jungkook’s perception of her had changed since then but their silence tells you otherwise.

She passes you a small smile when your eyes meet, placing a fried egg onto the platter she set out.

“Jungkook eh…Kim Namjoon said he wants to meet us on Friday afternoon. At his office.”

He sets his arms on either side of the sink, clicking his tongue, “I won’t be able to make it this time. Don’t think I’ll be back by then. Is it fine if you go alone?”

You readjust your bag on your shoulder, “yeah, sure.”

“Just let me know what he has to say.”

“Alright. I’ll see you.”

Hurriedly, you exit through the front door as you hear him shout out a ‘bye’ to your retreating figure. You’ve never been to one of Namjoon’s consultations without Jungkook before, this will be the first. A part of you knows that you want him there not only for moral support, but another reason that you’re still trying to come to terms with after everything that had taken place these past few years.

The roads are always busy on a Monday morning, but you manage to get Junho to school on time and make it to work a bit after 8. Still, Yoongi announces that you’re late.

“Good to see the old man back in shape,” you giggle, patting his back as you pass him on your way to the office.

“Can’t stay cooped up forever…as much as I’d like it,” he mumbles the last bit, fixing his collar.

You roll your eyes, pressing your hip to the office door before turning on the lights, “how’s Yuri doing?”

He gives a one-shoulder shrug, sipping coffee from his silver flask, “you should speak to her.”

“I spoke to her last night,” you inform, coming around the counter to find the iPad, “she seemed okay.”

“You know how stubborn she can be. Is Junho coming over this weekend?”

“Mhm, it’s been a while,” you snort, dipping your head to look between the shelves since you always seem to find it there, “I was shocked when he asked, but I think it’s because…Jungkook is out of town now.”

“Yeah.”

You spin around, seeing him arrange a stack of papers near the register.

“Do you know when he’ll be back?” You try, receiving another shrug from him.

“No.”

“Do you know why he left?”

“Business, you know. The usual. Plus, he has some other stuff to figure out since his systems were hacked.”

You return to your task of searching for the iPad, checking in one of the drawers then under the files set on the desk.

“How was your holiday?”

“Was alright.”

He hums, a knowing hum, one that you ignore since you want to avoid talking about anything to do with you and Jungkook. And Yoongi can be smug if he knows, but you still won’t spill.

“Did Junho enjoy his time?”

“Yeah, hey where’s the iPad? The one for stocks?”

Gesturing to his office near the stockroom, he waves a hand dismissively, “don’t worry about it. When you were gone, I installed the software onto my computer since it’s easier for me there.”

“So you’re back to handling stocks? Did you sort out those double orders I told you about?”

He shuffles through the aisles to the back, shouting over his shoulder, “yeah, don’t worry about it.”

Your morning passes like every other morning at work, and despite how busy things become, your mind is elsewhere. Wondering if Junho is doing okay at school, hoping he doesn’t worry too much about his father coming back and gets distracted by playing with friends. He left the car in a bitter mood this morning, you’ve never seen him like that before. You know it’s all a part of growing up but you can’t help but feel guilty since you could’ve shielded him from getting too close to Jungkook. You knew he was going to leave eventually.

But at the same time, you know you would’ve felt guilty all the same if Jungkook left and Junho didn’t get to know his father.

At least Yuri offered to keep Junho after school these next few weeks since she’s working from home. She always manages to get him in a good mood.

With a burdened sigh, you work through few of the prescriptions Yoongi left out for you to file away from last week when you hear your phone chime.

Heart skipping a beat once you read the words on the screen.

[12:45] Taehyung 💏: Saw you in town today

[12:48] Taehyung 💏: Can I see you?

Sinking into your chair, you shoot him your response, holding your phone to your chest.

[12:50] You: okay, I’ll come over after work.

[12:50] Taehyung 💏: Perfect, I’ll be at my place.

The sound of the telephone ringing cuts through the air.

“Hello?”

“Who’s this?”

“This is Min’s Pharmacy, how can I help you?”

The man breathes heavily over the line, “what’s your name?”

“___.”

Confused, you clutch the phone to your ear, hearing the sounds of his breath even closer to the speaker.

“Hello?”

“Let Min Yoongi know that we’ll be arriving after 9 for pickup.”

“Sorry but we close at 4PM on Mondays.”

“Let Min Yoongi know that we’ll be arriving after 9,” he barks, so loud you pull the phone away from your ear.

When you’re about to argue your point again, he hangs up, leaving you to stare at the receiver in shock. At that moment, Yoongi returns to the front, hands in his coat pockets.

“Some idiot called now.”

He chuckles, inspecting the bottle of pills kept beside the register, “what did they say?”

“That they’re gonna fetch an order after 9. I tried to tell them that we’re closed at the time but they just yelled at me. Guess they’ll be coming all this way for nothing,” you shrug, unaware of Yoongi’s piercing gaze set on your face.

He unplugs the telephone from the socket abruptly, tucking it under his arm, “from now on, I’ll answer calls.”

“Wh—That’s impossible, Yoongi. I know you’re a perfectionist and all, but you can’t possibly do everythin—”

“Just—” his voice raises slightly, fist held up as his chest deflates “—handle our clients and I’ll take the calls.”

“But I need the phone for orders, Yoongi,” you remind, holding up the bag of pills, “and I send them to you.”

“Just leave it to me.”

“What’s the use of me being here if you’re gonna take my workload too,” you mumble, turning to greet the customers that walk through the front doors.

You watch Yoongi’s jaw tick before he marches to his office, coat swaying behind him to leave you even more paranoid.

Why does he suddenly want to do everything? He’s never been so keen on taking up your tasks.

Something’s up. But with Yoongi, it’ll remain a mystery to you for a good while, and you rather not ask.

Pulling up into Taehyung’s driveway, you can’t help but feel a little anxious seeing him today. Perhaps you didn’t have enough time to prepare yourself, but at the back of your head you know it’s because you haven’t seen him in what feels like ages.

Sure, you talked over the phone, video called now and again, but seeing him in person is far better than any of that. You’re also looking forward to hearing what he has to say since it’s been a good few weeks since you really discussed what’s going on between you. As well as that nagging in your mind, telling you that you should probably ask what’s going on with Jimin…

I told you so.

That’s what he’ll most definitely say…Ah, you can’t hide from the truth.

Most of all, you’re looking forward to being in his arms, hearing him say your name in that deep, baritone voice of his.

Stomach doing a twist, you stand at the front door and ring the doorbell, not waiting for less than a second as the door swings open to reveal Mr. Kang, bowing as you enter.

“It’s been a while, Ms ___. Come,” he ushers you around the pillars, taking you through a small passage before pausing behind a door with one frosted glass window, “he’s waiting for you here.”

He leaves you to prepare yourself before you finally press down the silver handle, the back of Taehyung’s head coming into view. The smile that begins to hurt your cheeks falls away when you catch sight of a woman seated at the corner of the table next to him, giggling as she touches his arm.

You clear your throat, unable to bring the same enthusiastic smile to your face as he rises from his seat and approaches you.

He says nothing, just eyes your tense figure before pulling you in for a bone-crushing hug, mumbling into your shoulder.

“I missed you so much.”

The woman looks to be in her early thirties, donning similar attire to him as she sits perched on the edge of the chair, twirling a shiny, gold pen with her eyes on you.

Taehyung draws back, hands lingering on your elbows as his brown eyes dance across your face, coy smile tugging at his lips. There’s tons you want to say to him, but you feel incredibly awkward having someone watch this tender moment with scrutinizing eyes.

You peek around him, “who’s this?”

He presses a hand to the small of your back, taking you further into the brightly lit room and around the long, grey table. This looks to be a conference room, table stretching to the back with a whiteboard tacked onto the end wall.

“This is Deiji, Eun Deiji, one of my good friends from high school.”

She slaps his chest as she stands, mock surprise on her face, “good friends? He means best friends.”

You join in their laughter half-heartedly, seeing the way his eyes flash with fondness as she pinches his arm.

Extending her hand in your direction, she cocks a brow, “you are?”

Taehyung pushes down her hand, rolling his eyes, “ay don’t act like you don’t know. This is ___.” He turns to you, winking as he slides his free hand into his pocket, “I told you about her before.”

“Really? I can’t remember!” She holds a hand over her mouth as she cackles, silky hair tossed over her grey blazer, “I know a lot of ___s!”

He tugs you closer to him, arm wrapped around your shoulder which has you feeling a little uncomfortable, only because Deiji seems to be weirdly close to him by his other side.

“This is my ___.”

His words would’ve affected you, if she wasn’t cackling again which seems to be her thing. To laugh at anything he says. You haven’t dealt with many girl best friends in the past, but from what Yuri told you, ninety percent of the time, they can be a massive pain in the ass if you’re in a relationship with their guy best friend.

You find it odd that Taehyung hadn’t mentioned her before, and he said that they were good friends in high school. Perhaps the nature of their relationship changed. However, with the way she giggles and falls onto him – you think otherwise.

Her gaze rakes up and down your figure, eyebrows lifting to her hairline as she holds eye contact. You think it’s her tactic to try and intimidate you, but you stare back, seeing her squirm.

“Deiji and I plan to merge our companies before the next year,” he informs, taking you with him to the door. “So I arranged to meet her here since she wouldn’t mind. Right, Deiji?”

“Of course,” she smirks, reaching up to rest her hand on his shoulder, “anything for my Tae Tae.”

Your tongue turns sour, stomach gurgling as you watch them exchange secretive smiles, as if sharing an inside joke. Which has you feeling like a third wheel.

Why did he invite you over if he was still busy with her? You could’ve waited out in the lounge since you’ve been here a few times before. But you know he instructed Mr. Kang to bring you to him.

After sharing a few hushed giggles, she pecks each of his cheeks goodbye, not giving you a second look as she brushes past you and exits through the front hallway while Taehyung steers you in the direction of the lounge.

He draws the curtains, hands on his hips as he watches you sit awkwardly at the edge of the couch cushion.

“You’re cold.”

You rub your arm, “a little.”

He calls over Mr. Kang with a curl of his finger, gesturing to the fireplace you hadn’t noticed before until today. Sliding a hand over the mantle, he orders Mr. Kang to put it on, coming around the armchair to huff into the couch next to you, taking his hands into your lap.

“How have you been? How’s Junho? How was your little vacation?”

“Good, good,” you giggle, comforted by the way his thumbs rub circles into the backs of your hands, “it’s all been good. What about you?”

He juts out his bottom lip, “same old.”

You hit his shoulder with your fist lightly, “hey, how come you never mentioned Deiji before?”

Rubbing his bottom lip with his index finger, he raises a confused brow, “what do you mean?”

“I mean how come you didn’t talk about her before. She’s your best friend, right? And we’re…us. So why didn’t you tell me about her?”

He chuckles lowly, pinching at your cheek, “what’s that?”

Your eyebrows furrow, perplexed.

“What?”

“That,” he smirks, thumb traveling to your chin, “that little whine.”

“I’m not whining.”

“You are.”

“Am not.”

Mr. Kang clears his throat, rocking on his feet, “all done, sir.”

“Thank you, Mr. Kang.”

An orange flicker of light kisses your skin as he leaves the lounge, fire crackling and hissing to have you hypnotised for a moment. Taken back to your childhood when your dad would light up the fireplace and wrap you up in a blanket, bouncing you on his lap to keep you warm.

“Hm?”

You’re stirred out of your thoughts by Taehyung’s voice, now tucked under his arm, “what was that?”

“I asked you what you’re thinking about.”

“Oh. Nothing.”

He hums, “would you like anything to eat, drink? Stay for dinner?”

“I had coffee with Yoongi before I came here, and I can’t stay for dinner.”

“Why not?” He pouts, toying with the hem of your shirt.

“Junho has school tomorrow, he has to get to bed early.”

He clicks his tongue, “you should’ve brought him along.”

You laugh, poking at his chest, “he’s with Yuri today.”

“Yeah? Not with his father?”

“No, Jungkook left.”

He yawns, stretching one arm over his head, “yeah? Where to?”

“I’m not…sure.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah.”

Silence falls over you, the pleasant smell of firewood burning pleasing to your nostrils, along with Taehyung’s woody fragrance.

“How’s Junho doing? You know,” he scratches the back of his head, shifting closer, “since his father is gone.”

“Not too good.” You admit to yourself more than him.

“Ah,” he laments, “I hate to see the little guy sad. You should bring him over this weekend, we’ll have fun.”

“Yeah,” you chuckle lightly, moving further into his warmth as you tuck your hands between your knees, “I’ll let you know.”

“I’m actually leaving tomorrow night, that’s why I wanted to see you.”

“Really?”

He tilts his head to the side, nodding, “yeah, I was supposed to leave earlier but then…everything that happened with Jimin.”

You perk up, eyes going wide, “what happened with Jimin?”

A regretful look floods his face as he covers his eyes with his hand, “he wasn’t cautious.”

“What do you mean? Is he okay?”

“I don’t know, honestly. He hasn’t been answering my calls or texts or emails. Nothing.”

You return to your initial position on the couch, mind clogged with deflating thoughts.

“Mine too.”

He’s quiet again, hand cupping your shoulder as he pulls you even further into his embrace, asking you to look at him. With the new position, you can see down his baby blue dress shirt, distracted by the sliver of skin visible to you.

“This is the part where I say I told you so,” he laughs heartily, fingers running down the back of your head.

You huff, “so say it.”

The corner of his mouth quirks up, “nah.”

“Why not?”

“Because,” he shrugs, tone forgiving, “everyone makes mistakes.”

“Yeah, except my mistake is at somebody else’s expense. Now I don’t know if Jimin is alive or—”

“Hey,” he sniggers, bringing your gaze to his with his hand on your cheek, “he’s alive. You haven’t seen Jimin in action like I have. That guy can hold his own.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah! He’s a highly trained professional. Able to take on multiple roles of security. I even considered hiring him as my bodyguard when things went down at the warehouse.”

That sparks your interest.

“What exactly went down at the warehouse?”

He laughs defeatedly, shaking his head, “we were just goofing around.”

“Goofing around?! Yoongi got shot! By you! Need I remind you?”

“I know,” he sighs, gazing into the void as he revisits the memory, “I know.”

“So…that happened because you were all just—” you shrug theatrically “—goofing around?”

“Well,” he trails off, suddenly sounding a little closed off, “I guess Jungkook tried to intimidate me, tell me to back off.”

“Back off what?”

He nails you with an ‘are you serious’ stare, “you, obviously. You and Junho, I suppose.”

“So you guys just decided to just duel and have a gunfight?”

“Like I said,” he interjects, “Jungkook tried to intimidate me, he didn’t think I came armed myself. And when he fired, poorly, I should add - I fired back and Yoongi got in the way.”

“How did Yoongi get in the way if you aimed at…?”

“Jungkook. I aimed at Jungkook.”

Your jaw drops, “are you serious?”

“Relax,” he grumbles, sitting up as he moves away slightly, “I wasn’t gonna kill him, just a harmless shot to his shoulder or upper arm.”

“That could’ve killed him.”

“But it didn’t, jeez. He fired at me first. It was an act of defence.”

“Fair enough.”

The mood shifts between you, your shoulder suddenly so cold as he props his elbow on the armrest in contemplation, back turned to you. You replay the conversation in your head, scouring the depths of your brain for something to say to him.

Hopping closer to him on the couch, you rest your chin on his shoulder, arms wrapped around his neck to kiss the side of his face.

“So you’ve overcome your embarrassment.”

A smile tugs at his lips, mole on his nose crinkling at he scrunches up his face.

“What did my mother tell you?”

“Oh nothing,” you boast, sliding into his lap as you mouth down his neck, “just that you regard me very highly.”

His cheeks turn pink, the corners of his mouth fighting to break into an even bigger smile before he buries his head into your shoulder, curls tickling your skin.

“I missed this,” he whispers, large hands curling around your thighs.

“Missed you,” you mumble, eyes fluttering shut as his lips trail up the junction of your neck to stop at the corner of your mouth.

Your smile morphs into a frown when you sniff into his shoulder and get the smell of the painfully sweet perfume that Deiji was wearing. It spoils your mood once again. He seems to notice, eyes filled with concern.

“What? Do I smell bad?”

You really need to work on hiding your expressions better.

“No, it’s just…”

“What?”

You pluck at his collar, “I can smell Deiji’s perfume on you.”

“Really?” He twists his neck to sniff at his shoulder, “I can’t smell anything.”

Sliding your hands around his neck, you shake your head to dismiss the topic, “it’s alright.”

“No,” he mutters, sitting back as he begins to unbutton his shirt, “if it bothers you then I’ll get rid of it. Her perfume was giving me a headache too.”

You chuckle, seeing how his eyebrow jumps when you meet his gaze again.

“What?”

He sits back on his hands, buttons halfway done, “help me out.”

Biting back a grin, you lean forward and work on undoing the rest of the buttons, feeling his stare burn into your features once you’re done and too shy to look at him again.

“You know you’re cute when you’re jealous.”

Your lips part with indignance, “I wasn’t jealous.”

“Oh yeah?” He towers over you, pressing you into the seat of the leather couch.

“Yes,” you squeak, admiring how sexy he looks with his shirt hanging loosely on his shoulders, hairy arms flexing under his weight.

“But you looked so cute, whining and pouting.”

He presses his knee to your clothed core, cocking his head to the side as his hands slide up and under your skirt, pinching your thigh to hear you whimper.

“Tae,” you sigh, panties sticking to your folds. Reaching up, you press your palm to his heated skin, dragging it down to the dark tufts of hair below his navel. You gasp once he finds your clit, prodding at the swollen bud through the flimsy material with his nail.

“So pretty when you say my name,” he susurrates, kissing your neck noisily, “but I like it better when you scream it out for everyone to here. Not a care in the world but me and the way I fuck you so good.”

Your core clenches, lips pressing into each other as your clit pulses.

He chuckles darkly, tongue running across his top teeth before he sets his entire weight onto your body just as he pushes your panties to the side and sinks two fingers into you. You grip onto his shoulders, chasing his lips once he finds that spongy spot inside you to have your thighs shake.

“Missed this, hm?” You moan when he curls his fingers, hooking it inside you and pressing down on your lower abdomen with his pelvis, keeping you pinned to the couch.

Walls quivering around his fingers, he keeps his mouth on yours and teases you with his tongue, dragging the wet muscle across your lips while his long fingers fuck into you at breakneck speed. You cling onto him, sweat building on your back as you jut your hips into his hand, crying out when he begins to rub fast circles on your clit.

He groans when you bite onto his shoulder, thick cock twitching against your thigh as your nails pierce into his back, rocking into his hand lewdly.

Taehyung works his fingers into you, building up the pressure as he pinches your clit to have a gasp tumbling from your lips. You’re flailing around, groaning as he works you to your high and presses down on your lower belly, covering your mouth with his when you cum. 

“You like that, don’t you? Gonna cum for me? Let me hear all your pretty sounds? Hm?”

Goosebumps erupt on your skin, back arching as you drench his fingers in your slick, dripping down his hand. 

“So pretty when you cum, fuck.” He takes your tongue between his lips, bobbing his head as he suckles on the pink muscle while you’re coming down from your high, trembling as his fingers continue to fuck into your wet cunt. “You love to tease me, don’t you? Now it’s my turn.”

“Tae,” you sob, squirming away from him when the sharp movements of his fingers become too much. 

He nips on your earlobe, panting as much as you, “you can take more, hm? I know you can.”

You glance around, suddenly self-aware, “let’s go upstairs.”

He chuckles, taking his fingers out of your pussy to pop into his mouth, grunting with the taste. His pupils are blown, swallowing up your moans as he kisses you feverishly, bottom lip caught between his teeth. 

“They’ll still be able to hear you.”

Grabbing at his shoulders, you manage to flip him over, only because he lets you. You beam at him, nails catching on his darkened nipples to hear him groan out your name, kneading at your thighs.

You kiss the space between his pecs, tongue gliding up to linger on his Adam’s apple.

“But you don’t mind.”

Oak interior and dark blinds to match, you sit opposite Namjoon as he scribbles away on his notepad, pushing his glasses up the slope of his nose. You’re usually here with Jungkook, now the orange couch feels a little empty without him. He would’ve been rolling his eyes at Namjoon’s curiosity, constantly checking his watch.

“I was hoping Jungkook would come along,” he states without lifting his head, “I needed to speak to him as well.”

“He’s out of town,” you inform, drumming on the armrest.

His head snaps up, “for how long?”

“I don’t know.”

He hums to himself, leaning back in his chair as he slots his fingers together, “that explains Junho’s behavior today. How are your nightmares?”

You gaze out the window, seeing raindrops splatter against the windowpanes.

“Haven’t had any during our vacation, but they started again once we came back home.”

“Interesting. Do you think a change of environment is what you needed?”

“Don’t know. I’m just worried about Junho, what happened at school today?”

He tips his head, narrowing his eyes at you, “you need to stop ignoring your own cries for help.”

You chew on your lip, nodding at his words just so he’ll cut to the chase. As it is you’re so nervous to know why he called you over.

“What did you want to tell me about Junho?”

He waves you over, rising from his chair to pull out a large file from one of the shelves behind him. You stand on the other end of the desk, opening the folder carefully once he slides it in your direction.

“I wanted to show you Junho’s paintings.”

The first is a tree, round, red dots spotting the green. It takes your breath away. He never showed you his paintings before. The second is the sky, a bright orange sun bleeding into a darker shade of blue – the beach.

“Impressive for a six-year-old. And we don’t offer painting until next semester for kids his age.”

“Really impressive,” you speak around a smile, each painting getting better and better, the strokes so precise and practiced, he paints better than you, “I think he mentioned that he paints with Jungkook. His father is also really talented at painting.”

Namjoon rocks back into his seat, spinning from side to side, “so it runs in the family.”

You giggle, “I guess so. Wow.” Your fingers stroke the lines making up the image of his room at Jungkook’s house, the view of the pool from his room perfectly visible through the small square right in the center. He even got all his toys down, his shelf lined with cars.

Namjoon drags the folder back to him, flipping delicately before he pauses and slides it back over to you.

“That’s the one I wanted to show you.”

Your heart leaps to your throat. Eyes drifting across the page, you don’t know where to look. He still needs to learn how to paint people better, but the image is as clear as day.

A man stands with his arm outstretched, that arm covered in dark markings and at the end, a gun. On the other end of the page, another man, this time laying down, his eyes curved closed, red paint covering his figure.

Namjoon reaches over, turning the page over. Your hand flies to your mouth, gasping as you take in the sight.

The same man with the markings on his hand, a knife in his hand pointed to the air as he stands on a pile of bodies, all drenched in red paint. Namjoon flips the page over again, but you can’t bare to look, suddenly so aware of your own hands touching your skin, the breath leaving your lips, hair dusting your back as a chilly breeze fights its way through the shut windows.

“Either Jungkook is teaching him how to paint that or he’s seeing these things himself. There’s a stark contrast between his landscape paintings and the ones with figures. And I’m sure you noticed it too.”

You blink, feeling a little lightheaded.

“I don’t think it’s suitable for Junho to be around his father anymore,” Namjoon states matter-of-factly, closing the file and tucking it under his arm. “I could take this matter to my superiors but I thought I should tell you first.”

Disgruntled, you approach his desk, “are you threatening me?”

“No, I am not,” he snaps, folding his arms, “I’m informing you first so you can make a change, if I don’t see one then I’ll have to bring this to the principal’s attention, and we’ll take it from there.”

“You mean…take Junho away?”

He purses his lips.

“You’re not seeing my point, I’m worried for Junho, and if you were too, then you’ll keep him away from Jungkook because everyone knows that he’s a dangerous man.”

“Now you’re hinting that I’m not worried for my child,” you quake, pacing to the door then back to his desk, “he loves his father.”

“I know,” Namjoon sighs, resting his arms on the desk, “Jungkook loves him too, anyone can see that. But it’s just not safe. For Junho and you.”

The place where your heart once rested feels like a phantom thundering in your chest, hollow but still beating.

“I know Jungkook would never hurt any of you, but you’d have to think again about his associates.”

Somehow, your mind goes to that scar Jungkook has on his stomach. And a ball forms in your throat. If anyone touched a hair on Junho’s head, you don’t know what you would do.

“Jungkook’s line of business,” he shakes his head, speaking lowly, “These are Junho’s formative years, if this goes on, I’m not going to sit back and watch. It’s not safe at all for a child.”

Why does it hurt more to hear it from a stranger than your own wilful mind?

“Think about it.”

Now you’re thinking about all that you could’ve told Namjoon earlier today. Jungkook is starting his own textile company, he’s trying his best to be a good father, things are okay between you two. And…he’s starting his own family.

You’re trying to contact Jungkook, but he isn’t picking up. You don’t know why — but you just really need to speak to him. To tell him what Namjoon showed you and what he told you after. You haven’t spoken to him since the day he left and a major part of you wants to know how he’s doing. If he’s alright. What he’s up to. But you’re getting sent straight to voicemail. 

It’s also unlike him to not call and check up on Junho. He would do that every time Junho stayed with you since he got back. It used to bug you then...now you’re wishing you had that again.

Breaths quickened, you dial his number again, phone slipping from your hand when you hear a knock on the front door. 

Shuffling over, you open the door to find Seojoon standing there, lopsided smile in place as he holds up a pack of beers. 

“It’s been a long time since we’ve hung out, can I come in?”

damn 🫣🥴 i would love to hear from you so please let me know what you guys think !! ✉️

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[buckybarnesss]

on fire: a teen wolf novel chapters 17-19 and final thoughts previous chapter

it is done. the final installment of on fire is here and i am finally free.

thank you @dear-massacre for listening to me rant about this book and encouraging me to finish it.

and a thank you to @give-emhalekid for inspiring this re-read of on fire to begin with. i can finally answer your asks appropriately!

in addition to my notes and final thoughts on this novel i did make contact with the author nancy holder and have been sitting on that email for over a month now. so i'll be talking about that too.

anyway.

We start this chapter in Kate’s narration in yet another flashback to six years prior. This is when she gets information out of Mr. Harris. 

The bar is called Randy Andy’s by the way. Which, and it may just be me, makes me fully believe this bar is playing Brooks and Dunn's 1991 hit Boot Scootin' Boogie on repeat.

She mentions that Harris hadn’t seen her around the school but she had pinpointed him quickly as someone weak and that she could use. This tracks.

She gets what she wants out of Harris and as she leaves the bar (which is handily across from her apartment) she sees Derek leaving with his school bag. She freaks out worried he’s onto her or found something in her apartment. 

She follows him home just to be sure she’s in the clear. Like a freak.

When she returns she finds a note Derek left her explaining what happened. 

However, feeling as though she could’ve been exposed, Kate decides to up the timetable of setting the fire. 

Because we cannot have nice things.

We then get a small scene where she’s filling the gas cans and apparently Alt Version of Mr. McCall is the gas station attendant but he’s on the phone arguing with Melissa over money and blaming her for things. He's actually worse than canon Mr. McCall which I didn't think was possible.

Kate goes on to have her inner celebration and reminisce over her seduction of Derek. You know, just girlie things.

Once again the timeline is throwing me off. Holder places the Hale fire near Wolf Moon which makes the show starting around the same time a nice call forward but she also has homecoming around the same time. Derek muses about Kate being a chaperone for the dance and Laura is at school that morning to attend a committee meeting for the dance. For me, Homecoming was always during the Football season in September. Not that I ever went but this in January if it’s the Wolf Moon. Football season is over. This doesn't make any sense to me.

We finally return to both the present day and to Derek and Stiles. It’s been 84 years. I've aged lifetimes.

Derek tells Stiles that you can’t trust human women and leaves him once more as Derek has caught the Alpha’s scent. This is Bizzaro Derek.

Holder has given us two different wolf references mere pages from each other. She has Derek listen to Wolfgang Gartner and Stiles apparently playing Wolfenstein on his phone (this may be Wolfenstien RPG which apparently came out on mobile in 2008).

I looked up Wolfgang Gartner -- because this is what I do -- and according to Wikipedia the earliest single he released under this particular name was in 2007 which would be after the fire. He does however have a single called Hot for Teacher. I am going to fight the author.

We’re back in Scott’s narration now. He’s not having a good time. There’s smoke making everything hazy and he senses the werewolf that bit him. He calls it his “waking, walking nightmare.” and the wolf side of him is conflicted by the threat but also by the sense of pack. 

Through the haze Scott does see the Alpha and they make eye contact. Once again Scott refuses to kill like in Pack Mentality. He references the incident by name. 

A burning tree falls down because of course it does. Some of the sparks get on Scott so he has to remove his jacket and shirt. This is Teen Wolf after all.

Scott fights the shift trying to figure out how to save himself and Allison from the blaze.

Allison begins to become overwhelmed by the smoke and goes into a coughing fit.’ Which, heh, kinda fits with Scott having asthma previously before the bite.

Next chapter opens back on Jackson who is still having a very bad time. His vision is doubled and tripled as he passes out.

Scott remembers that Allison once did gymnastics and suggests that she use those skills to get out so he lifts her up and she somersaults out I suppose. Like a goddamned Power Ranger.

I swear Stiles is the author’s least favorite. Stiles hears a howl and begins looking for Scott and or Derek. He’s yelling for them both as he attempts to track Scott’s phone. Derek shows up with a “Yeah.” 

Though I’ll admit this exchange made me laugh:

“Yeah,” Derek said, bursting from the trees. He was wolfed out, and Stiles let fly with a high-pitched, girly scream. “Was that you?” Stiles yelled. “No, that was you,” Derek said in disgust. “I mean the howl.”

Derek tries to assure Stiles the Alpha needs Scott but Stiles reminds him that he doesn’t need Allison. Derek says he also doesn’t need Allison which is a sentiment that Stiles disagrees with. Canon Derek would never. 

They talk about mountain ash because Derek recognizes it from the pictures Scott was able to send. The explanation holds up fairly well to what we’re told in the show.

They find Scott and Stiles tries to instruct him but he’s in a state of panic. Derek points out that he cannot make sense of what Stiles is trying to tell him due to the panic. 

E x c u s e M e. What the fuck did I just read?

Stiles wants to call 911 so a fire truck can gain access but Derek warns against it due to Scott being shifted. Derek then takes a swing at Stiles, Stiles shoves him and Derek falls off the cliff. 

I am so tired. 

This is a Stiles accurate line at least: “So many times, Stiles had wished for Derek to up and die. But he hadn’t meant for him to really die. Except that maybe had meant for him to really die. Just maybe not in pain, and not in front of Stiles.”

Scott pounces on Derek and they tussle. Stiles is conflicted on who he’s cheering for. 

Scott doesn’t have a shirt on.

And a moment later --

“A wind washed through the tops of the bushes and showered Derek with fiery debris, setting his jacket on fire.”

Derek rips off his jacket (RIP jacket) and his shirt now leaving him also shirtless. 

I see you Teen Wolf. The Weather Girls It's Raining Men is the unofficial anthem.

Stiles calls 911 because he clearly is the one holding the brain cell.

We’re back to Allison. She’s running through the woods calling for help when she spots what could only be the Alpha as she calls it an evil animal. It stalks closer to her but it moves away and she sees the wolf that she and Scott had seen earlier. 

The “good” wolf’s presence seems to scare off the Alpha. It then guides Allison to safety. This wolf is never explained but it gives me Expecto Patronum vibes.

Except her safety is Kate. 

Allison is now lying her ass off about why she was at the Preserve rather than with Lydia and Kate’s questioning her hard.

I had forgotten about Jackson. The van exploded by the way as the police came into the parking lot. He feels momentarily guilty about Cassie then he promptly passes out, which honestly I don’t blame him for. He’s had a shitty day.

Meanwhile back at Werewolf Rumble Derek is able to bring Scott back to himself and just as they begin to try to escape they accidentally do the memory ritual via Derek’s claws accidentally slicing Scott’s wrist and you know what? I don’t care anymore. 

We get one last flashback to Derek and Laura post fire. They’re at their burned home and insane with grief. In the remains Derek finds that stupid ring he gave Kate because she’s so evil and terrible. Like. Fucking hell. 

We cut to Jackson being taken to the hospital and Lydia ignoring the paramedics to ride with him. He feels guilty about Cassie’s death and tries to convince himself there was nothing he could do. In truth, there probably wasn’t. He ends up wondering if Bailey had really known about his biological father.

Allison at this point does in fact find it sus that Kate just happened to be out driving to the fire but she doesn’t examine anything too closely yet as she finds Scott and Stiles. She’s relieved that Scott's okay. 

The book ends with Derek watching the scene from afar. Kate catches his eye and taunts him one last time because of course Kate does. Derek doesn’t respond. 

The final line is kind of baller though. “There are more of us, bent on payback. And domination. And death. And we are coming.”

Some parting thoughts:

I remember mostly enjoying this book back when I first read it upon it's release in 2012. I think it's because I was so thirsty for more backstory on the characters and more adventures in the world.

There's a post somewhere on my blog about the book somewhere but re-reading ten years later I was definitely more critical of it and found it to be a frustrating endeavor. Maybe it's because I'm older or maybe it's because the show is over.

Largely I think it's because the book itself had no real resolution. It couldn't but I'll explain that later.

Even if there's reason for the open-ended nature of the novel it's still genuinely frustrating especially because this is a stand alone novel with no follow up.

I thought there were too many flashbacks and not enough time spent on the actual plot. Jackson is the entire plot yet we spend very little time with him in the book and he never actually interacts with the main cast except with Lydia through a text. Fucking wild. Some of Jackson's best character stuff is when he's bouncing off the other characters so it was a real shame he didn't interact with them.

The biggest issue I have though is with Derek's characterization. It just doesn't even seem like Derek to me even early season 1 Derek. The whole human slander isn't ever a thing with him.

I loathed how Laura was handled. The information we have on Laura doesn't even fill a thimble but I'd rather not know a damn thing than this version where she said the word "mateable" and isn't all that bothered by her sixteen year old brother being involved with not only an older woman but a teacher that has authority over him. Her reaction shuts Derek down so he no longer expresses his misgivings. I couldn't tell if this was on purpose or not.

I also didn't like how Stiles felt like the unfavorite here. Holder, I think had a decent grasp of his voice, but not how others reacted to him.

I also have mixed feelings about the world building Holder did via the werewolves. There were aspects I did like but overall I found it too heavy handed and too patriarchal. I think the direction the show took it was better. Talia Hale is a much better and more interesting choice.

I still do not understand why this book was commissioned at all. It isn't canon and it doesn't even follow the plot of season 1. Basically this was a promotional tool that fell short in my opinion. A waste of Holder's talent and the reader's interest.

However, there are reasons for some of this though like I said.

Back in November when I was in the middle of the book I did some research because I was insanely curious as to why this book was written the way it was. I found Nancy Holder's website which had a contact form.

I screwed up my courage and sent her a brief message asking about why the novel only referred to the first 5 episodes while largely being it's own plot. It's very unusual for a tie in novel

She answered really quickly and while her explanation didn't surprise me it still sort of did.

Essentially she was given a lot of freedom in developing her own plot as she was instructed to not give away any spoilers for the second half of the season. Which is why there's hardly anything to do with the Alpha plot line and Peter is largely left alone.

According to Holder, she is the one who asked Jeff if she would be able to fill in Derek and Kate's backstory so that whole plot is her own creation and he told to "go for it".

I think a lot of fanon seems to possibly originate with her due to this freedom which is interesting.

She's a huge fan of Teen Wolf and I found it super endearing even if I didn't like all her writing choices.

In conclusion:

#my blog #thoughts on teen wolf #teen wolf #on fire: a teen wolf novel #heather reads #[casts this book into the fire] #look mom i completed it before the end of the year!

[krishneide]

Another One Piece crack theory XD

Risk of soilers for chapter 1107

So, you know how Sanji's eyebrows now change directions when he gets angry. Well, maybe not angry, but more focused on the fight. It's pretty much understood this is due to the raid suit effects after using it in Wano, which makes him stronger and more similar to his siblings.

Sanji will tell you this is the power of LOVE. He could be either trying to deny him being less human than he hoped or actually have learned to use love to tap into these new powers.

So here I thought: what if only one eyebrow changes direction and not both?

Something like this:

(I know, this doesn't look right)

But doesn't it look a bit like a heart? ( ¬_¬ kind of a Kingdom Hearts one, if I'm honest)

Could this lead to a new development for my sweet child?

I don't know, I'm just happy to see him again in the manga. And Zoro. (even if they were in completely different locations and it's been 84 years since their last interaction)

#one piece #one piece theory #one piece 1107 #one piece spoilers #not really but better safe than sorry

[kyouka-supremacy]

Will akutagawa ever be free of dazai's control?Now I don't expect dazai to change the way he treats akutagawa, but I believe akutagawa deserves to know that dazai is not really the best mentor and he does not need to rely on dazai to know he has the right to exist 😭

Honestly? I don't think he will. And I know I'm mostly alone in this, and I constantly see depictions of Akutagawa and Dazai getting along after they both have grown past their own issues, but... It just doesn't sit right with me. I'm sorry. I just think Dazai is THAT good at manipulating, he himself wouldn't be able to undo the damage he caused Akutagawa even if he tried. And Akutagawa LOVES Dazai, and it goes so deeply and unconditionally, to an extent he will always love him. If in two months or twenty years Dazai will ask Akutagawa to throw himself into fire, he will do it.

But honestly, I don't think that condemns Akutagawa to misery for eternity, either. I think he can do fine, as long as his interactions with Dazai stay limited. He may even walk the long step of not minding of Dazai's judgement as much as he does, in the way that's not something he thinks about 24/7 and what his life completely revolves around. And you know, he's already getting there in canon, in a way. In chapter 4, Akutagawa is acting cold and distant to Dazai, like he was forcibly trying to prove his own independence (but he isn't independent. He will stop Higuchi from hurting Dazai). In chapter 9, he will deliberately confront and even punch Dazai (Dazai's words will haunt him to no end after that). In Dead Apple, he said he was going to kill Dazai (he didn't, Atsushi himself thinks Akutagawa is too “terribly obsessed with Dazai” to be able to kill him). In chapter 84, he outright says “no” to Dazai and refuses to follow his orders (he ends up doing what he wants anyway). So you see, there's quite this going back and forth with Akutagawa where it seems like he's gaining some kind of independence, but he's always on the brink of relapse and spiralling back to the old habits he just can't seem to completely let go of, and I don't think he ever fully will.

So yes, maybe in the future Akutagawa won't care for Dazai as much as he did once, maybe he'll find other things that matter to him more than his approval; but being fully free from his control, that I don't think he ever will. But even then, really, I think it's going to be fine. There'll be people to remind Akutagawa that he's worth of living no matter Dazai even when he can't remember it himself. There'll be people who will make him feel like his strength isn't telling of his worth as a person. There'll be people who will tell him that Dazai is proud of him even when Dazai never will. I feel like Akutagawa does have a chance to live happy and at peace with himself, no matter the fact that he won't ever be free of Dazai's control. If he will take that chance, that's another story...

All said, I think it's just better for Akutagawa's mental health if he doesn't spend time with Dazai for a prolonged amount of time, for example by working again under him, join his same organization etc. I just think their relationship is screwed beyond reparation, and if Akutagawa is doing maybe a tiny better now, and if he will do even better in the future, he will still be quick to spiral back in abnegation and self-loathing as soon as he's back again being close with Dazai. So yeah, there's that.

#osamu dazai #ryūnosuke akutagawa #bsd #bungou stray dogs #mine #people asks me stuff

[bratshaws]

through the hourglass 88. brb x oc

a/n: it's 37 degrees celsius right now but there's nothing hotter than this man

pairing: plus size!oc x rooster

warnings: fluff with a smidge of suggestive as always uwu

goodness gracious (pls read this one to know more what this fic is about!!)

chapter

1/

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-

He groans on the bed, burying his face on the pillow, “Fuck.”

“Everything okay?”

“Don’t laugh at me.”

“I would never laugh at my husband.” she giggles while sitting on his lower back, pushing her palm’s heel over his back until she reaches his shoulder blades, “God, Roos, it’s like the hills of Scotland on your back, you are so tense.” and it was during their shower together that Beatrice noticed it, promising him as soon as they left the shower they’d resolve that.

Her husband just groaned again, happily so, his eyes almost rolling back into the sockets when she added pressure to another spot on his back, “Jesus fuck that’s so good.” Beatrice laughs above him, her Iron Maiden nightshirt up to her hips as she massages his back in a slow but firm pattern, “It’s been a while since this happened,huh?”

“Since I massaged you?”

“Yeah.”

“I think the last time was after we moved in here?” she suggests while pushing on his back and smiling at yet another deep groan that made its way out of him, “Why are you so tense though? The last time was because you were going to be deployed.” she pauses, “Are you going to be deployed?”

“Not that I know of.” he murmurs, sighing quietly into the pillow before he turns his head to look at her, “I think it’s just…I don’t know, overall stress. I heard some things through the grapevine.” 

“Oh?”

“Did I ever tell you how me and Mav got back to talking?”

“You did say it was on a mission, but you didn’t elaborate on it.” she says, rubbing his ribs in circles, “I didn’t want to pressure you on opening up when you weren’t ready.”

And his eyes close because his heart cannot take such sweetness. He just smiles back at her, folding his arms under his chin as he remembers everything, “We had to blow an uranium enrichment facility, everything went well until well…Mav got hit then I got hit.” he notices how her hands stopped moving for a brief second before continuing, “And we had to leave in the oldest fucking fighter I’ve ever seen, that thing had spider webs in the spider webs.”

“But you made it back.”

He blinked before turning his head to face her, her own eyes soft and smile gentle as she rubs the back of her finger against his cheekbone, “I did…and it was really good too…but uh,” he clears his throat, “Mav told me how they wanted to replace the pilots with drones.”

“Huh?”

"Yeah, instead of a person that trained for years to get good at their craft.” he says, still letting her massage his shoulders and upper back, pressing his lips against his arms, “The new recruits asked me about it, they looked so terrified because they thought they’d be replaced before even beginning their careers Bea.”

She makes a face above him, gently rubbing the golden skin that was adorned with tiny nicks and scars - and some of her own doing if she might add - that were there because of years of work. Blood,sweat and tears to get good at what he does…and then to be terrified because they’d be replaced by machines? She couldn’t imagine.

But she could somewhat understand why that option was given thought. 

Rooster’s job was dangerous, she knew it was, he told her it was and she had seen things once she started working at the Hard Deck. It’s…understandable that human lives couldn’t be rebuilt like a machine would.

Part of her, the rational part of her - the one that often sounded like Guillermo or her father talking - said that while it was a loving sentiment to think about the pilots’ safety, there was more to it. It wasn’t just because they were worried about the pilots, it was probably because taking care of a drone was cheaper to handle. 

They needed no food, no shelter, all they needed was a quick check up to see if everything was working right.

Her head was hurting thinking about this.

And Rooster noticed because his brow raised in question as he looked over his shoulder at her, “Baby.” he calls, “You okay?”

“Mhm, just…thinking about what you said.” she smiles, leaning down to kiss his cheek, “Hopefully…there is a way to resolve that, you know?”

“I hope so,I don’t really feel like getting replaced by Deus Ex Machina. It’s one thing to play games dealing with that, it’s something completely different  to live it.” and he pushes himself to a sitting position as Beatrice disappears in the bathroom to wash her hands clean of any of the massage oil, “What are you thinking about? Any input you could give?”

“Who,me?”

“Yeah gorgeous, you.” he chuckles, resting his arms on his bare legs with a gentle groan, muttering how she had ‘magic hands’. But Beatrice takes a while to reply, so much so he has to tilt his head towards the bathroom door and see if she was listening to him or not. “Gorgeous.” he tries again, seeing that her eyes flick towards him before looking away.

“I don’t know how I can help.”

“You always do,I value your opinions.” 

Beatrice wipes her hands on the towel closest to her as she thinks about how to reply, “...I don’t know Roos.” she says honestly, offering him a shrug after tossing the towel aside, “It’s…hm,” she frowns, “I just hope no one else suffers because of these new options…you said they tried doing that back when Mav got back?”

“Yep.” he spreads his arms and legs so she could step between them and he could hold her waist close to him, his hands cupping the back of her thighs, “If it wasn’t for what happened at that mission I’m sure this conversation would be still up and about for a long time.”

Beatrice hummed as she ran her fingers through his hair, smiling when he leaned into her touch and closed his eyes, “Maybe there’s a way for both to coexist.” she whispers, “I’d like to think so at least…is there anything else in your mind?”

He pauses, still rubbing his head against her hand like a cat to catnip  - she could swear she heard purring coming out of his throat - before opening his eyes, “No,” he says then, “It’s just something to keep in mind.”

“Are you sure?”

“Oh,gorgeous.” he smirks, pulling her legs apart so she could straddle his lap, his hands cupping her buttcheeks, “I’m sure. Thanks for listening to me though.”

“That’s what I’m here for.” she grins, “I’m your wife.”

“And my best friend.”

“And your best friend.” they share a laugh, one that only makes Rooster lean closer to kiss her, “Hm! Roos,” she gently breaks the kiss much to her husband’s loud disappointment, “I’m going to make us dinner, is there anything you want?”

He drops his eyes over the length of her body - stopping at her panties for a few seconds - before looking up at her again, “Well~”

“Something edible,Roos.” she reinforces, brushing his cheekbones with her thumbs, “Come on,handsome, you can give me a straight answer.” She could feel the full body shudder darting all over him when she calls him ‘handsome’ and his head drops to the curve of her shoulder.

With a sharp inhale of that delicious lavender scent, he mumbles “How about some honey sesame chicken?” he questions, “With some salad? Do we have wine?”

“Oh, you're feeling like drinking are you,Mr.Bradshaw?”

Again the shudder and he lifts his head to look at her, pressing their noses together with a lazy cat-like smile, ‘Yes,I am, Mrs.Bradshaw. It’s been a while since we had it…and we still have to celebrate Nikki’s newest milestone.”

Beatrice just smiles softly at him, pecking his lips quickly, “Okay.” she climbs off his lap, something he didn’t really want to happen but he did allow it to, just giving her ass a quick slap before she turned around fully. Beatrice squeaked but huffed out a chuckle, playfully shoving his shoulder, “Stop.”

“No.” he replies, trying to imitate her high-pitched tone, “And because you said that you’ll get one more.” and he slaps the opposite cheek as she has her back to him now, quickly tugging her shirt down to cover her ass as she shuffles out of the room. She glares at him from the door, then pokes her tongue out, “I’m gonna get that too!”

“No you won’t.”

“...Wanna bet?”

Beatrice sees the way his legs are bending and her eyes widen, much like a fawn trying to run from a predator, she just slowly disappears from the door, “Bea…” he is standing up, careful steps nearing the threshold, he could hear the weight of her footsteps - light as if she’s trying to hide where she’s going - “Bea, I know where you are.”

She knew he had the clear advantage in this situation, his legs were longer and he was obviously faster than she was so she could either risk it all and run or she could just stay put and pounce on him when he least expected it. That was the plan at least.

Because in her thinking process she got distracted and her husband creeped up from behind her, she had her back to the door as she neared the railing, and immediately wrapped his arms around her waist, “Gotcha!” Beatrice yelped in surprise, her legs kicking in the air as the sudden shock turned into laughter, “I got you, gorgeous, told you I would.”

“Nooooo!” she laughs, trying to break free, “Not fair! I didn’t even hear you.”

“Years of training,gorgeous.” he smirks, kissing under her jaw repeatedly, “But I’m going to let you go so you can get everything ready, then check on Nikki.” he slowly sets her down, kissing the top of her head and her nose, smiling when she scrunches at the contact, “Call me if you need help okay?”

“I will.” she leans up to quickly peck his lips, walking around the railing towards the stairs. Rooster leans on it to watch her going down, his wife looking up to smile at him one more time - Jolene following her closely - and he mirrors the expression.

As Beatrice is out of sight, his smile falters a bit, his thumb spinning his wedding band on his finger as his eyes look at nothing. That…drone conversation did something to him but not on the way he expected it.

Maybe there was a way for both to coexist.

Maybe.

He sighs as he straightens himself to turn his body to Nicole’s room, knocking his knuckles on the railing as he walks away. He gently pushed the door to his daughter’s room open, the creaking sound making Eleanor and Jack’s heads lift from the floor, the white dog still in front of Nicole’s crib and her brother partially under it.

Eleanor’s tail wagging only intensified when Rooster entered the room, petting the female dog first and crouching a bit to pet her brother, “You two taking care of my little girl?” he smiles as he scratches Jack’s chin, grunting as he stands to his full height.

Nicole is peacefully asleep, her little chest rising and falling and her body sprawled on the mattress, the onesie she wore - he just took notice of it - had a fighter jet on it and was mossy green, making it seem like her arms were the jet’s wings and her legs its’ tail. He smiles down at her, gently brushing her soft cheek with the back of his finger, “Aren’t you just so precious?” he coos, his daughter making a little noise but not waking up, just turning her head the opposite way.

He folds his arms on top of the gate, inhaling softly as he keeps his eyes on Nicole. He was extremely thankful there were no talks of deployment yet but he knew he had to mentally prepare whenever there was. He tapped his finger against his arm, then lifted the same hand to hold his head up as he kept on staring at his baby daughter.

Rooster loved his job.

He achieved a lot in his young life.

And yet the talk with Cyclone often repeated itself in his mind. His superior was tough for many reasons and Rooster would never disagree with him…unless it involved Nicole. He wanted his daughter to grow up with him no matter how far and hell,he knew she wouldn’t understand why he had to leave.

He didn’t,when he was a boy and his father was gone.

He didn’t when–

He stops thinking about it immediately, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his fingertips before sighing. His little daughter was peacefully asleep, oblivious to her father’s turmoil, happily crawling in her dreamland if the little smile on her face was any sign. Rooster smiles down at her, bending down a bit to prop his chin on his folded arms, “...you and your mother are the most precious things in my life,Nikki.” he whispers, “I swear, birdie.”

Nicole moves a bit when he talks, then her light green eyes blink up at him and he immediately regrets it, “Oh no, no no, sweetie. I’m sorry,” he coos, “Daddy didn’t want to wake you up.”

But she didn’t cry, in fact she didn’t seem like she was bothered by it.

She rubbed her little fists on her eyes and kept them there, almost as if she wanted to stretch but was too lazy to. Nicole blinked a few more times, finally dropping her arms as she looked up at Rooster, “Hi,sweetie.” he coos, gently sliding his hands under her to pick her up since she didn’t appear to go back to sleep, “I’m sorry I woke you up.”

Nicole just snuggles his neck, big light green irises disappearing behind her eyes as she sighed, almost as if she just wanted to sleep on him now…then blinked them open, staring at the pilot with wide eyes. “Hi.” he coos, “Hi, pretty.”

His daughter was probably confused, because he wasn’t that close before and now he was?? She just looked at his arms, then at him and then turned her head to the crib, “Yes, you woke up, cutie.” he says, gently combing some of her hair down, “I actually woke you up,I’m sorry honey.”

Nicole just vocalized something and held onto his neck. Rooster just closed his eyes, hugging his little girl tighter to him and smelling that soft cotton flower scent that came from her hair. He just furrowed his brows a bit, kissing her cherub like cheek before he turned on his heel, “Let’s go see mommy, yeah?” Eleanor and Jack followed them as soon as Rooster was out of the room, walking down the stairs with Nicole still clinging to his neck.

Beatrice was too busy preparing their dinner, jumping a bit when she heard his voice coming from behind her, “Something smells good.” Beatrice’s shoulders sag in relief as she turns around, face lighting up when she saw who he was bringing along.

“Hi! Oh my sweet baby!” she wipes her hands off any sauce to pick Nicole up, their daughter still sleepy, sighing quietly as her mother placed her on the crook of her shoulder, “It was about time she woke up.”

“I think I made her wake up too.” he says apologetically, “I touched her cheek and she just blinked those big eyes at me.”

“Oh, it’s okay, she just needs a few more minutes to wake up fully, hm?”

“Do you need me to do anything,gorgeous?”

Beatrice looks back at the stove, then towards him, “You can get our wine and set it aside.” she smiles, “Everything else is under control.”

Rooster chuckles softly, leaning down to kiss her forehead and Nicole’s scalp, walking around them to get the wine glasses from inside the cabinets, “Oh, by the way, I’m going to the bar tomorrow, a bit earlier.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, Penny wants me to teach Jessie how to use the ice machine.” she explains, bouncing Nikki around, “She is still nervous getting close to it.”

“Considering the size of that thing,I wouldn’t blame her at all.”

“It can be a bit menacing yeah.”

Rooster gently set the glasses down on the counter, licking his lips before he spoke, “How about I stay with Nikki tomorrow?” he asks,spinning the wine bottle on its axis on the counter, creating a scraping sound from the glass. When Beatrice didn’t say anything he turned his torso to face her, “I think it’d be fun.”

“Well, you know I don’t mind.” she says, with a smile but her brows were furrowed, “It’s been a while since you suggested it.”

“I know, I guess I miss her a lot.”

Beatrice knew there was something else in there but she didn’t say anything, “Well, I’m okay with it.”

“I can take you to the bar and pick you up.” he nods at their daughter who was now waking up again, “With Nikki.”

“Roos,I’m going to leave the bar around midnight, you don’t have to. I can drive back.”

He licks his lips again, tapping the end of the glass on the counter as his tongue prods the inside of his lower lip, “Are you sure?” she nods, “Well…then let me just take you and Shells can give you a ride, how’s that?”

Beatrice felt that the options wouldn’t be that many and that he’d end up trying to find more reasons to take her. She huffed out a laugh, but nodded, “Alright.Shells and Bob can bring me home, is that better?”

“Much.” 

“I have to wait after I feed Nikki,” she says, adjusting Nicole in her arms while nodding to the bottle of wine, “Then we can have it.” She didn’t know exactly what brought this on but she wasn’t going to complain if her husband wanted to spend time with their infant daughter, on the contrary,she’d support it all the way and would try her best to help him out during that time too.

Their conversation was cut short by Nicole, who was now fully awake and alert, vocalizing while chewing her mother’s shirt, “Oh, speaking of which, it’s time isn’t it, pretty?” she coos, kissing her daughter’s head, “I’m going to sit on the kitchen table,Roos. Can you keep an eye on everything for me?”

“Always,gorgeous.” he smirks, supporting himself with his arm against the counter, his smile only widening as he watches his girls sit down with the dogs lying by Beatrice’s feet. He inhales shakily, closing his eyes briefly before he turns to the stove.

Maybe he could call Mav tomorrow…to keep him company.

And to have a talk.

#bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x oc #top gun maverick #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw x named reader #tgm oc #tgm fic #tgm fanfiction

[mediacinemtographyartetc]

Blue Exorcist: Rant

Okay I was literally in secondary [Highschool to americans] with Season 1 in 2011 and then Season 2 in 2017 THEN season 3 in 2024? Do I have to wait ANOTHER decade for season 4 after? Like what I'm gonna be 84 by the time BE ends????? But overall even though it's been years and my obsession with BE is kinda flagged and the manga also put me off some stuff...I still like Blue Exorcist. So not many people talked about this so I was wondering- what story has been covered and how many more do we have to wait for? And also- why not just make Blue Exoricist a movie like Sailor Moon or evangelion? Make a trilogy/more instead of seasons at least that way if it takes forever it's understandable?

But then a quick google search and uh...

So season one [2011] season 2 [2017] we waited six years for that then another seven for season 3 so thats a thirteen year wait-

And then suddenly TWO seasons in ONE year??????

And what chapters have been covered? So Season one is Manga 1-4 Then Season two is Manga 5-9 And then season 3 the illumanti series will cover manga 10-15

Blue exorcist Season one had ended with a tied bow BUT season 2 starts off with a cut off episode, if you stop at this episode then start season 2 it creates a linear story. Like an alternate ending.

In Season one Yukio became a demon possesed by Satan. BUT this ending and storyline may be similair to the manga or has been reworked to tie in, there is a drastic difference to later manga updates.

The manga is currently on number 29 and still seems to be going. So thats 14 more books to cover and since season 1 and 2 had four manga done figured it would take FOREVER to get there. So others speculated if Season 3 is also a reboot and if thats the case then what's the point?

But because of the tied up ending in s1 it doesn't make sense to do it again if anything the continued seasons is to be more faithful to the manga. personally I usually watched BE season 1 and cut off at the episode then read the manga on HOW it could've ended. But because it's been so long, I can't even remember season 2. And looking at the updates of s3 and thinking wow some parts seem so fast paced I wonder if they condensed some stuff-

Even so...

I don't want to say bald but...some of the faces don't quite...look right, the hair is too short- it's giving Boruto naruto compared to Shippuden- Look how they massacred my son! Not only has it been years not only does the animation look jank, theres also the story line-

Truthfully the manga has been losing me lately, just some of the girl characters who used to be badass who were then given moments to...level up and gain strength later in the manga some moments felt as if they just kinda...got shafted. lets just say I hated Manga 17 with Shura it after lmost made me stop reading it but thats just my personal opinion. Overall tho -

The whole fight between Yukio and RIn and when Yukio just straight up became a bastard was straight up painful to watch, only given that I've already SEEN that in supernatural where two siblings end up fighting and one's being an idiot just for angst but continuing on made it worth it my issue-

is that if the anime cuts of AGAIN and then fans have to WAIT for it to be concluded is just straight up going to kill me.

#Blue #Exorcist #Blue Exorcist #Anime #rin okumura #yukio okumura

[aloneinthehellfire]

The Past Will Always Catch Up To You

Raining Hellfire : Season One | Season Two

Word Count: 3462 words

Warnings: swearing, fluff, mentions of homophobia, forced coming out, mentions of trauma from S1, eddie being adorable as always

[A/N: It's ma birthday so why not start season two! Thank you all for the support from the first series, I hope this chapter isn't disappointing :)]

The Past Will Always Catch Up To You

It had been around 10 months since you discovered the secrets of Hawkins. 10 months since you fought what had lurked in the dark. 10 months since El saved lives and disappeared. 10 months since you met Eddie.

And in those months, you couldn’t have been happier. You and Eddie spent almost every day together after that, learning more and more about eachother until it felt like you knew eachother completely. Well, almost completely. Neither of you had shared much about your families. But, you both preferred it that way; it was a comfortable mutual understanding.

Eddie finally gave you your Walkman back, holding a suspicious smile when he handed it to you. You still haven’t figured out what he was smiling about.

You attended the majority of his band’s rehearsals. Eddie was afraid you were going to be bored and would always have a selection of books for you to read just in case. However, you don’t remember ever picking up one of those books much less reading the titles; you were genuinely captivated by Corroded Coffin. The way they always gave 100% even though it was just a practice. Despite the fact that they were playing in a garage, you always felt like a member of a huge audience staring up at them on stage.

He even told you about his mysterious club that he attended every Thursday night. Eddie was slightly embarrassed to tell you about ‘Hellfire Club’, mostly because it was for Dungeons and Dragons, yet was pleasantly surprised at your excitement. You told him about the Party, about how the kids you babysat from time to time were obsessed with it.

There were so many happy memories you had collected throughout ‘84, and you were ecstatic to have been able to share them with the boy you were certain you were in love with. You were grateful for those memories, especially since not everything had been rainbows and sunshine over those months.

You still had nightmares from the Demogorgon. Barb died and El sacrificed herself, that guilt always bubbling away inside you. And every now and then, you swore you could feel something breathing down your neck, whispering in your ear. And you couldn’t tell anyone about it.

You didn’t want to involve Eddie, it was wrong to drag someone else into this Upside Down mess. And the Party had finally got Will back and were happy again. You couldn't ruin that with more talk about the trauma from last year. So, you didn’t have anyone in your life you could speak to about it.

No family, no friends...

You didn’t even have a best friend anymore.

“Y/n!” Dustin’s voice echoed in the Wheeler kitchen, slightly muffled by the pancakes he had shovelled into his mouth.

As you entered the room, you saw that the Party was all together, happily sat with their sweet-tooth breakfast.

“Hey, guys. Another campaign happening?” You ask, setting the empty mixing bowl you were holding onto the kitchen island. You had borrowed it from Karen earlier in the week so you could bake a cake. It wasn’t for anything in particular, you were just really craving chocolate cake.

“Mmm-mm, mm-” Dustin was trying to communicate but seemingly forgot the mound of pancakes he had stacked and then attempted to eat all at once.

“Translation?” You looked to the small boy sat closest to you.

“We’re going to the arcade before school.” Will smiled, using his fork to prod at the barely eaten pancake on his plate. He looked tired lately and you wondered if he was kept up by nightmares of the Upside Down. He wouldn’t be the only one.

“Yeah. Why don’t you come join us?” Lucas smiled, leaning toward you. You swore that this boy flirted just for the hell of it.

“Ah. Well have fun. Without me.” You quickly added, raising your eyebrow at Lucas who still had a smirk on his face. “And can someone please beat Dustin’s high score on that ‘Dig Dug’ game. It’s all I ever hear about.”

You roll your eyes sarcastically, earning a chorus of nods.

“Hey!” Dustin finally swallowed the last bit of pancake, “I don’t talk about it that-”

“Yes you do.” All the boys said, shaking their heads.

“Anyway, it’s too late, someone already beat it.” Lucas added and then he leaned into you, lowering his voice, “And he’s being a wuss about it.”

“I heard that!” Dustin pouted.

“Mike, can you let your mom know later that I’ve returned her bowl?” You ask, placing it in its respective cupboard and shaking your head at Lucas and Dustin’s argument.

“Why can’t you?” He questions, dumping his plate in the sink.

“I… I won’t be here later.” You say, giving a quick goodbye and walking out of the room.

“What was that about?” You heard Lucas stay and you slowed your steps.

“I don’t know. Her and Nancy had some sort of fight.” Mike mumbled, clearly uninterested.

“About what?” Dustin’s loud voice sounded out and you winced.

“Who cares? Let’s just go to the arcade instead of discussing girl stuff.”

You heard a few mutters of agreement as you continued to the door, leaving. For once, you were glad that Mike was a minor narcissist.

Stepping off the porch, you smiled at the crunch of leaves beneath your boots, taking in a breath of the fall air. It was your favourite time of year. The weather wasn’t too cold or too hot. Leaves were scattered all over the ground, coloured with amber hues. The sun shining behind the naked trees beamed warmth in the autumn breeze.

Placing your Walkman upon your head, you pressed play and blared Journey through the headphones, treading along nature’s carpet as you headed toward the school. The songs played from their Frontiers album, one you had grown to love since its release.

A tap on your shoulder made you jump, turning quickly and stepping away. It may have been 10 months but you were still very afraid of the things that went bump in the night.

“Sorry.”

Steve Harrington stood in front of you, his hands stuffed into his jacket pockets as he avoided your eyes.

“Harrington.” You sighed, sliding down your headphones. “What’s up?”

You and Steve had a better relationship than you did last year. You no longer saw eachother as the enemy, merely just nuisances if anything. In fact, you were both on your way to becoming good friends.

Until Nancy ruined it all.

“We need to talk.” He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose with an exhale of breath. “It’s about Nance-”

“No.” You put your headphones back in place and strode away from him. You weren’t in the mood.

“Dude! Come on!” He ran after you, pulling you to a stop and miming for you to remove your headphones again.

“I’m not talking about this!”

“Then don’t talk, just listen. Like, one minute, I promise.” He pleaded, searching your eyes for an answer.

“Fine.” You finally breathed, the headphones resting on your shoulders once again.

“Okay.” He took a deep breath. “I get why you two aren’t talking anymore, I really do. But…”

“But what?” You ask impatiently when Steve’s voice trailed off.

“You need eachother.” He said.

“No, Nancy made it very clear that she doesn’t need me.”

“She’s just upset about Barb-”

“So am I, Steve!” You raise your voice and he jumps a little from your burst of emotion.

“I know-”

“No, you don’t. I was ready to help Nancy through that, I really was. Because I thought she needed someone, just like I needed someone.” Your voice broke a little and your gaze shifted to a particular leaf that had spiralled down from its branch and landed on your foot.

“I thought you had Eddie.” Steve’s voice was sympathetic. He wasn’t being rude, he sounded more confused than judgemental.

“I did. I do. It’s just… how am I meant to talk to someone if I can’t actually tell them anything.” You sigh. You knew that getting into a relationship with Eddie meant you had to keep the Upside Down a secret. You just weren’t prepared for how lonely you would feel.

“Look,” You continued, having to tilt your head to reach his eyes, “Nancy and me… it’s all broken. I tried, Steve, I really did. But I said one thing that she didn’t like and suddenly I was the villain.”

“Maybe you weren’t listening to her-”

“She said everything she wanted to.” Your voice was cold, strings of sentences pulling at your brain as the memory flooded in.

“She didn’t mean it.” He shook his head but he sounded defeated, like he didn’t believe his own words.

“You were there, Steve.” You point out, showing no emotion, “There was no uncertainty in her voice when she said that to me.”

“I…” He gave up, slumping his shoulders, “I’m sorry.”

“For what, exactly? Just standing there while she made me feel shit or being the one who told her?” You spat.

He was silent, shock laced in his eyes.

“See you in class.” You murmur as you walk away.

You didn’t hate Steve, not even a little. You knew why he didn’t speak up when Nancy was making you feel worthless. He was in love with her, it only made sense that he be there for her, not you. You just couldn’t forgive him for what he did.

[EIGHT MONTHS EARLIER...]

“Hey, Nance.” You look up from your book to see your best friend walk into the room, head hung low.

“You lied to me.” She whispered, so quiet you almost missed it.

“What?” Your heart sped as you discarded the book in your hand, sitting up straight.

“Do you even like Eddie or are you just playing him, like you were playing me?”

Mouth dry, you attempt to speak but were met with nothing but a breath.

“What- what are you talking about?” You managed to speak, shifting uncomfortably on your bed.

She just stared at you, a look of confusion and disgust.

“Robin Buckley.” She finally spoke, her voice as cold as her expression.

It felt like your heart leapt into your throat, restricting your breathing. How did she know about that?

“You kept that from me.” She added, “I thought you were my friend, I thought… I thought you were-”

“Normal?” You blurted as the room went silent. Nancy didn’t speak. She didn’t try to argue with your choice of words.

“Wait!”

Steve burst into the room, panting. He came to a halt and bent over, trying to catch his breath. “I can explain-”

“You.” Standing up, you walked over to the tired boy, eyes seeing red, “You told her.”

“No, listen. I just meant to-”

“Yes. He did.” Nancy regained her confidence, crossing her arms. “But that doesn’t change the fact that you’ve been lying to everyone.”

“And why do you think that is, Nancy?!” Anger coursed through your veins, “Do you see how you’re treating me right now? Like you want my head on a spike to carry around town as a warning to others if, god forbid, they don’t fit into ‘Nancy’s perfect little world’.”

She just scoffed, turning her head from you. Steve cleared his throat awkwardly, shuffling into a space where her could intervene if anything got violent.

“Guys! Calm down, okay?”

Nancy sent him a glare and he stilled, his expression conflicted.

He finally let out a sigh, turning to you but avoiding your eyes. “Y/n…”

“No. No, stop it.” You shook your head in disbelief, tears threatening your eyes, “Why are you taking her side?”

“You’re…” He glanced at Nancy again, “You’re just... over-reacting a bit.”

“I can’t believe this.” You felt your chest tighten as the first tear dropped from your eye. “I trusted you…”

“Look, Y/n.” Nancy’s face fell into a softer expression as she watched the drop of sadness mark your cheek. “I can’t keep doing this with you… It’s like- like I don’t even know who you are.”

“Because I like girls?” You finally said it. You finally spoke the words that were avoided like a plague.

Nancy took a step back. You had to admit, that hurt.

“There’s nothing wrong with… that.” She shrugged, wrapping her arms around her torso.

“There isn’t, huh? Then why are you acting like it’s some sort of disease.” You took a step forward and watched her take another step back before she even knew what she was doing.

“I-”

“I like girls, okay?!” You yelled, making Steve jump. “I still like boys, too. Not that it even matters because I’m some sort of freak now, right? You can’t even look at me! Just because I had a crush on Robin Buckley? You act all high and mighty but you’re just as fucked up as the rest of us, Nancy Wheeler, don’t even try to deny it!”

You weren’t even sure what you were saying; you were blinded by fury, pain.

“Bullshit!” She screamed, hesitating before closing the space between you.

“Really? Then how come Miss Perfect can’t even admit that she’s miserable in a relationship that she just sees as a convenience?” You lowered your voice, aware that Steve was still in the room. “We both know who you really want.”

“I should have seen it coming.” She finally said after a beat, resting her shoulders and raising her chin, “Makes sense to go both ways when you’re a whore.”

A gasp was heard from the corner of the room, echoing in the tension. It felt like Nancy had reached into your chest and ripped out your heart.

“Get out.” You ordered through tears, a familiar feeling flooding through your body as your hands shook.

“Y/n-” Steve tried to… you didn’t even know. You didn’t care. You just wanted them gone.

“Get. Out.” Voice laced with venom, Steve looked to Nancy who opened her mouth, only to close it again when she clearly had nothing left to say to you.

Instead, she stormed out without so much of a second glance. After a beat of silence, Steve looked defeated as he followed his girlfriend out of your house and left you standing in your room.

Alone.

“Hey, beautiful.”

Eddie grins as you run up to him, catching you in a hug. You always felt safe in his arms. The scent of green apples clung to you as you pulled away, looking up at him.

“Hey. Ready for another year of this?” You waved your hand towards the building in front of you.

“Hm.” He turned his body, studying Hawkins High with squinted eyes, “You know… I think it’s gonna be my year.” He concluded with a nod, looking back to you only to find you holding in a laugh, “What?”

“We’re in October.” You laughed as he playfully shoved you.

“I meant the school year, dumbass.” He chuckled, “Plus, I’d say this whole year has gone pretty well for me so far.”

“Oh yeah?” You leaned into him, wrapping your arms around his waist and staring up at him with your chin on his chest. “How so?”

“Well…” His arms found their way around you, “I finally found the design for Hellfire Club.”

“Wow, okay I see- wait. You did?” You straightened slightly but neither of you let go of eachother. It only surprised you because Eddie had been struggling with a design concept ever since he made the club.

“Wanna see?” He asked, still refraining from moving away from you.

“Obviously.” You said and he chuckled. Reluctantly, he let go and shuffled to his bag, pulling out a t-shirt and showing it to you.

“I mean, I’ve literally had to draw it on an old shirt but I know a guy that can print me actual designs-”

“I love it.” You stared down at the shirt in your hands and started to trace the lettering with your fingers. It had Hellfire Club written on it (obviously) and in the centre there was a design of some sort of horned devil, decorated with objects from Dungeons and Dragons. It was so freaking cool.

After a while you looked up from the devilish art and saw Eddie admiring you.

“What?” You giggled. Lowering yourself onto the grass. You had a few minutes to kill before the first bell.

“Nothing.” He just smiled, claiming the spot next to you and resting his arm around your shoulder.

You both turned to eachother at the same time. You have known Eddie for 10 months and still, he made your heart race in the most beautiful way.

“Yo! Y/n!”

“Y/n! Y/n! Y/n!”

“Guys, leave her alone! She’s clearly busy?”

“Busy? Oh…” “Ew. Are they gonna suck faces?”

You sigh, sending an apologetic look to your boyfriend who was trying to keep in a laugh.

“What’s up, guys?” You ask the four boys in front of you, squinting against the sun.

“We… were… at the… arcade.” Lucas tried explaining, out of breath, “Why did we even… run here?”

“Dude. Exercise more.” Mike looked at him while Will giggled behind him.

“Dustin?” You looked to the boy who had decided to sit the other side of you on the grass. You figured if anyone was going to explain, it was him.

“We were at the arcade trying to beat the new high score but we got nowhere with that, like who can beat 751,300 points? That’s impossible!” He exclaimed, laying down on the grass with a grunt.

“That’s your big news? The exact thing you told me this morning?” You lifted an eyebrow as Eddie chuckled beside you.

“No! There’s more.” Dustin sat up so quickly you thought he’d get whiplash.

“Is there?” Lucas questioned with a high voice, still panting.

“Yes. We were trying to beat the high score when this car literally sped by the arcade so fast we thought it was on its way to investigate paranormal activity, you know like in Ghostbusters minus the sirens, and we haven’t seen the car before so we thought it had to be him-” He paused for a second, tilting his head and looking down at the shirt in your hands, “That’s so freaking cool!”

He took the t-shirt from you, any intention of continuing his train of thought disappeared.

“Thanks, man.” Eddie smiled, looking at you proudly.

“Yeah. Okay, so there’s someone new in town and they can’t drive. Why is that important?” You furrow your eyebrows, ignoring the small boy next to you who was holding the shirt against himself and posing.

“I really want one of these.” Dustin shared, just as Eddie reached behind you and snatched the shirt back.

“Hellfire only, sorry man.”

“Hellfire? Like a club? I’m in!” Dustin said excitedly.

“No, you’re not. It’s a high school club.” You sigh, rubbing your temple.

“Curse age.” Dustin shook his head solemnly.

“Maybe someday, man.” Eddie reassured, patting your friend on the shoulder.

“Can we get back to the matter at hand!” Mike yelled, causing everyone to quieten. “Thank you.”

“I’m still confused.” You groan, resting your chin on your palms, elbows digging into your leg.

“Whoever the crazy driver is has to be ‘Madmax’!” Lucas exclaimed. That caught your attention.

“Madmax?” You glance between the boys, stilling your movement. Eddie noticed the sudden change in your demeanour, sending you a concerned look.

“Yeah. He’s been crushing all the arcade games, how can someone even be that good?” Dustin sounded upset but also slightly impressed.

“No way.” You whisper.

Before anyone could respond, a Camaro came screeching around the corner, barely missing a few pedestrians as they came to a dangerous stop. They somehow parked perfectly into a spot outside the school.

“It’s him!” Will spoke up, stepping from behind Mike to get a better view. Everyone had crowded into a small group now, each of you wanting to satisfy your curiosities.

“Let’s find out who this sucker is. Apparently, they should be our age.” Dustin nodded as you all turned to him. “What? Keith told me.”

“Explains the driving.” Eddie muttered, making him snort out a laugh.

The passenger side door opened as a small red-headed girl exited the car. She slammed the door shut, clinging onto her skateboard.

“Ah. That makes more sense.” Dustin noted as Lucas slapped the back of his head.

As they argued, the girl turned to the group, locating the quarrel she was hearing. She shook her head, dropping the board but caught herself when she focused in on one particular person in the group. You.

“Who is that?” Lucas and Dustin asked before glaring at eachother.

“Do you know her?” Eddie asked you, noticing the look you were sharing.

Your words were caught in your throat as you tried to make sense of what was happening.

“Yeah…” You finally breathed, something you didn’t recognise twisting in your stomach.

“How?” Mike looked confused, glancing up at you.

The girl snapped back into focus, hopping onto her board and skating away toward the Middle School.

“… she’s my sister.”

[A/N: So... how are we feeling? *insert evil laugh*]

Chapter 1: Secrets, Secrets, Secrets... ->

-

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[greetingfromthedead]

C11: Laundry Day

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Series Rating: 18+ / Explicit

Chapter: 11/84

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It's been a week since the two of you escaped the town. You hadn't come across any other settlements, but now you have reached a bigger town where everything seems calm. You reach it late in the afternoon and book a guestroom at the local inn. You take a slightly bigger room than last time and agree that since you don't really need sleep, there's not much point in taking two rooms. Vash agrees with sharing a room but still occasionally insists that you should sleep. Over the last week, you gave into his demand once after keeping watch five nights in a row and allowing him to have peaceful rests. He felt so guilty over it, no matter what you had told him, that on the sixth night he couldn't even fall asleep and told you that he would keep watch. You had argued back for a bit, but then gave up, thinking maybe sleep would help you calm down the voices in your head that had surfaced once more and don't seem to be soothed completely even by Vash's presence. You had woken up in the middle of the night to swap with Vash and had to admit that while sleeping felt nice, the voices in your head were just as loud.

The week has gone by quietly, just the two of you and the tomas tracking through the desert; neither of you really revealed much of your lore to the other. Instead, you spent more time talking about No Man's Land. You told Vash what you had seen 100 years ago, and he told you what had become of those places now. He told you about towns that were erected after you went to sleep and his adventures in them. Every time you wonder how he has seen so much and gotten out of it alive, especially since you have seen how he is, but you didn't touch that subject, too afraid to push him away, you were willing to wait forever for him to truly open up as long as he would put up with you, his presence removing the loneliness you had always felt.

The bathroom door opens, and you turn your gaze away from the window as you sit on the wide bed, your legs pulled against your chest. You see Vash exiting the small room, his hair still damp, but he wears a clean change of clothes. You can see a pile of dirty laundry on the floor behind him. He looks a bit more cheered up from the refreshing shower.

"Okay, your turn. I'll deal with my laundry later. I hope you don't mind it being on the floor." He smiles awkwardly.

"Only under one condition... You have to do me a favor." You feel weird for what you're about to ask him.

"Anything," he assures with a neutral expression.

"Uhm. I... I need a change of clothes, and I... I don't... well, you know... I don't want to go speak to people... on my own." You add the last part solely because you don't want to sound like a complete wimp.

"Oh, no problem!" He sounds like a cheerful puppy. "Well, one problem. I saw the place where they trade clothes, and the woman has already closed shop. I was thinking that you might need some extra stuff, so I kept my eyes open."

"Oh well, guess I'll just be nude then while my clothes dry," you say quietly, knowing what reaction this would get out of him. And you are completely right: he turns bright red in the face.

"While I have nothing against it at all, I think I have a spare shirt in my bag that I kept clean for emergencies." He mumbles out. Too much of a goody two shoes to leave you in a situation where your options were to wear dirty and torn clothes or to be naked. He digs through his bag, throwing more dirty clothes into the bathroom, and finally pulls out another black turtleneck. He gives it a sniff and then throws it at you. "No pants, though; not that they would fit you well anyway."

"Thank you." You catch the shirt and smile at him. You know his shirt is big and long enough for you to wear it as a short dress. You keep it against your chest like a treasure when you get up and grab the other stuff the hotel provides for your wash. As you pass Vash, he gives you a gentle smile, and you see it in his eyes too.

You lock the bathroom door and throw off your dirty clothes. The wounds in your stomach and chest are all gone; there are not even any scars pointing at where they used to be. You get into the shower and turn on the water. You try noticing the temperature, but it barely registers with you. Something deep inside you wants to feel the cold, but as you change the temperature, it leaves you unsatisfied; even the lowest setting doesn't give you the sensation you seem to yearn for. You let out a sigh and start to clean off the dirt and dried blood that is left on your skin in one form or another. It feels nice to be clean, and your hair detangled and free of debris. With the towel still around you, you see that the shower pan is quite deep, and you find a plug for it. You throw all the dirty clothes into the pan and fill it with water before drying yourself off completely and pulling Vash's turtleneck on. Everything is too big on you, and it makes you chuckle. Vash doesn't look like a large person under his coat, but he has wide shoulders and a muscular physique, not to mention he is tall with long limbs. You roll up the sleeves to your elbows and pull down the shirt a bit more; this way, it's halfway to your knees. You feel the thick fabric against your skin and smell the collar. It is clean, but it still has a faint scent that you are used to smelling on Vash; it brings you peace and calms the raising voices in your head. It gets harder every day to ignore the screaming and buzzing; the voice is so familiar, and the memory is so close.

Instead of lingering on the discomfort in your brain, you unlock the door and step out. The room is lit by the sunshine coming in from the window; the brightest spot is the table underneath it. Vash is sitting there and has taken apart his gun to give it a clean. His supplies are scattered around the work surface. He turns to look at you when you step into the bedroom and lets out a whistle, starting with a high note and lowering it quickly.

"I'd have offered you my clothes a lot sooner had I realized how well they suit you." Vash's voice is joyous and almost too innocent. He stands up to come closer. You don't move and only look at him with curiosity. As he stands toe to toe with you, he looks at you for a moment longer before taking off his sunglasses and turning them around to place them on the bridge of your nose. "Great, you're only missing my coat, and then you can go off and be Vash the Stampede."

"Funny man," you reply, voice neutral, "I'm missing a few key characteristics... like the desire to get shot."

"Your words sting, woman!" he says with a hurt expression and a condescending tone, but you feel the chuckle behind them.

"Even so, I'm sure "Vash the Stampede spotted running around with no pants on!" would be a catchy headline." You look at him through the orange glasses. He and the whole room appear sunnier, happier, and filled with warmth.

"No, don't think so; it didn't turn many heads last time, but with you, things might be different." He laughs with a genuine smile on his face, and it makes your heart lighter. It feels good to see him like this; every moment he seems happy makes you proud, and you want to squeeze him tight as a sign of it. He hasn't told you much about his past, and he doesn't need to. You know he has suffered a lot and still does; the pain of it is painted on his face when he thinks you can't see it.

"You are a ladies' man, aren't you? A womanizer, a skirt chaser if you will," you say while looking up at him like you blame him for something.

"What makes you say that? Are my charms working on you?" He seems almost too proud of it, and you slowly shake your head with a sigh, a smile lingering on your lips. "What? Are you too embarrassed to admit I have game?"

"You are a tease. Probably the most un-serious person I've ever come across." You look him in the eyes, "And somehow, also the most serious, unshakable soul. You are an intriguing contradiction."

"Is it so hard to admit a simple truth?" He has a very playful expression on his face as he leans closer; you don't think you have seen him like this before.

"I'd rather die than admit something like that." You joke, not shying away from him.

"You were dead when I found you."

"Yeah, that shows how far I'm willing to go." Your arms yearn to reach out to him, to pull him closer, but instead you step around him, one of your arms nudging his as you pass, and go to sit at the table to look at the weapon on it. You haven't seen it this closely before. You pick a piece of it up; you aren't even sure where it would go. Never before have you held a gun in any form; they make you feel uneasy, how they are able to take a life from afar.

"You call me unshakable? You're more stubborn than a tomas." Vash says quietly right behind you, his breath moving your hair and sending a shiver up your back. He lets out a laugh as you turn around, one hand over the spot where his air had tickled.

"You're so annoying," you blurt out, still looking at him through the orange glasses. His face is so close to yours, even though you are leaning back a bit.

"Yet you still stick around," he laughs, a glimmer in him making your heart burst. "I'm not complaining, Sweet Pea."

"Outrageous. Do confined spaces always make you like this? I don't remember you acting up under the open desert sky. You were very civil." You reply calmly, still teasing him.

"It's not the confined space that makes me like this. No, no, it's probably you wearing my shirt that's slowly creeping up."

That comment brings heat to your cheeks. Quickly, you put the piece of the gun back onto the table, and then both your hands pull the shirt down more and keep it on your lap. You were still completely covered, and you realize he only said it to rile you up. Apparently, he is just as good at teasing you as you are at making fun of him. He laughs and takes half a step back.

"Only joking, Sweet Pea, don't worry. Well, maybe part of what I said was true." He shrugs and reaches out over you to pick up pieces of his gun and starts to put it back together. You are blocked in, and he doesn't look like he will let you get away.

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[siriuslysmoking]

The Sky is Gray | Chapter 6

(The Year Everything Flipped Upside Down Masterlist)

—Stopped into a church I passed along the way Well, I got down on my knees (got down on my knees) And I pretend to pray (I pretend to pray) You know the preacher like the cold (preacher like the cold) He knows I'm gonna stay (knows I'm gonna stay) — – Beach Boys

It was quiet with just the two of them. Neither talked, they both sat in silence in the boathouse. Eddie can’t sleep, neither can Y/n.

Y/n is sitting on the floor, her butt numb at this point, her legs out in front of her, bent with the ax balancing on its head while she twists it between her extended legs.

“You’re gonna hurt yourself.” Eddie mumbles. Motioning to the ax she has in her hands.

“I’m sure I’ll be fine.” she mutters, leaning her head back to look to the ceiling. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

“I’m sure.” Eddie chuckles, “Never thought I’d ever see a cheerleader with an ax in her hands, talking to me.” He shakes his head, “Nevermind, I’d only believe it if you were trying to kill me.”

“I still have time.” She doesn't even move, he wouldn’t know if she even heard him unless she wasn’t responding. She pauses and they sit in silence once again before she breaks it minutes later. “Chrissy… she told me what happened, how she was seeing things, how she was getting headaches, and nosebleeds, and I just dismissed her.”

Eddie hums sadly, “Do you think he’s gonna kill again?” he looks her in the eyes, he looks nervous, messing with his rings, twisting them on his fingers.

“Definitely,” she nods, finally returning his gaze. “If i’ve learned anything these past few years, it’d be that it never stops.”

“Will you tell me what happened?” Eddie swallows, thinking before he speaks again. “What has happened before this?”

“You-you remember when Will Byers went missing?” he nods, she takes a deep intake of breath. She’s never told anyone this before, never the entire truth, that wasn’t Steve. But he should probably know what he’s gotten into. “He was taken into the Upside Down, when we rescued him, he brought back the mind flayer, there was a whole thing with Demodogs.”

“Demodogs?” He raises his eyebrow in question.

“Demogorgons, in dog form. You know Demogorgons from D&D? They look just like them.” She shakes her head, talking slowly. “Steve, Dustin, Lucas, Max, and I fought them underground in these secret tunnels. Eventually the mind flayer was extracted from Will but somehow some got out and infested Billy Hargrove.”

Eddie sees her swallow, biting back whatever she’s holding from him, “Billy- he uh… infected others, there was some russian code that Steve, Robin, and I found at our summer job at Star Court, it led us to this big elevator that dumped us into a russian base. We were caught, Dustin and Erica -Lucas’ sister- got away but us older three got tortured and drugged, because they thought we were from the government.”

A tear runs down her cheek which she quickly wipes away. She speaks quickly, trying to get it over with. “Long story short, there was a gate in the russian base to the Upside Down, Joyce Byers and chief Hopper went to close it, Billy died, the mind flayer escaped, we all had to hide from it, we killed it, found out it still had Will, got it out of him again, and in the end, Joyce came back and Hopper didn’t.”

“Whoa.” Eddie would’ve never guessed, he means it was odd to see the whole group together, Dustin, a cheerleader, and Steve-The Hair-Harrington, a band kid, and the loner redhead. But he’d never expected to get this out of it. The shit they’d been through, he couldn't imagine and all of it slipped right under everyone's nose.

“Yep.” she laughs, “whoa.”

“How long…” he trails off, “since this all started.”

“Since ‘83.” she looks down to the ax in her hands, “ November of ‘83, Halloween of ‘84, summer of ‘85, and now, spring of ‘86.”

“And it just keeps coming back?”

“One thing after another.’ she sniffles, quickly standing up, ax in hand, looking through the fogged, dirty window. It’s pitch black, no lights are on to even make a distinction of anything in the distance. She leans the ax against the wall, running her hands through her hair and down to go over her face.

“So…” Eddie trails off, trying to get in a more light hearted aura, “You and Harrington, huh?”

Y/n rolls her eyes, looking over her shoulder to give him a dirty look, is this really the right time? “No, but that’s none of your damn business Munson.”

“Geez, L/n.” he raises his hands in surrender, laughing. “No need to get your panties in a twist.”

“My god,” she rolls her eyes again. "I'm trying my absolute hardest to see this from your perspective but I can't seem to get my head that far up my ass."

“Nice on, L/n.” he chuckles. “See, I know you're a cheerleader and everything, but never knew you were such a bitch.”

“What did you just call me?” She turns fully as he stands.

“I called you a-” Eddie suddenly calms, running his finger just above her upper lip, that's when she feels the cool liquid run from her nose.

“God damn it,” she huffs, stepping away toward her bag to get something to stop the blood. Eddie stops her, giving her his bandana that was tucked safely into his back pocket. She takes it, “I swear these and those headaches are gonna kill me…”

“Shit.” She holds the bandana up to her nose and goes for her backpack, grabbing her walkie and switching over to Steve’s channel, she speaks into the walkie. Without even talking to Eddie or acknowledging him “Harrington!”

She gets nothing, she switches to Dustin’s channel, “Dustin, I swear you better have not forgotten batteries this time.”

Hours later, they still haven't heard anything from anyone. Eddie’s worried Y/n is going to go crazy. She’s sitting on the ground underneath the window when the sun is finally up, her head in her hands. She hasn’t moved in hours. Eddie’s about to go over to her when he hears someone coming.

He tries to peer out the window but can't because of Y/n’s shaking body’s in the way. The door slams open to Dustin, Max, Steve, and Robin with several grocery bags.

“Delivery!” Dustin says, excitedly. “We have good and bad news. Which first?”

“Bad, always.” Eddie says distractedly.

“Alright, we tapped into the Hawkins PD dispatch with our cerebro, and they’re definitely looking for you. Also they’re pretty convinced you killed Chrissy.”

“Good news, your name hasn’t been announced yet, but if we figured it out it’s only a matter of time before others do, too. And once that gets out, everyone and their shallow-minded mother is gunning for you.” Robin adds.

“Hunt the freak, right?” Eddie chuckles, darkly.

“Exactly.” Robin nods, Steve’s been distracted, looking around the room, something- someone is missing.

“Where’s Y/n?” Steve asks, before his eyes land on her huddled body in the corner of the room. He rushes over quickly. “Y/n?”

“Oh shit, yeah, she’s not talking anymore.” Eddie points out. “She was fine, she got a bloody nose, then she tried to walkie each of you, and she hasn’t moved.”

“Y/n!” Steve crouches down in front of her shaking form. “I need you to look at me.”

She slowly lifts her head, her expression dark and emotionless. Steve’s hands are on her cheeks when she speaks next, “I’m fine. Sorry, I was just in my head about something.”

“Anyway, before anything happens all we have to do is find Vecna, kill him, and prove your innocence.” Steve offers Y/n a water bottle she takes it but refuses the snack he offers, the last thing she does is want to eat.

“That’s all Dustin? That’s all?” Eddie says sarcastically.

“Yeah! No, that’s pretty much it.”

“Listen, Eddie, I know everything Dustin is saying sounds totally delusional, but we’ve actually been through this before. I mean, they have… a few times and I have once.” The group seems to nod along to Robin as Eddie looks around, “Mine was more human flesh-based, theirs was more smoke-related… but bottom line is, collectively, I really feel like we got this.”

“Yeah, see we usually rely on this girl who has super powers.” Steve adds scratching his chin. “But uh those went bye-bye so uh…”

“So we’re technically in more of the-” Robin cuts herself off.

“Kinda…” Steve is searching for the right word.

“Brainstorming phase.” Max answers.

“Brainstorming.” Steve snaps as though he was thinking that the entire time.

“There-th-there’s nothing to worry about.” Dustin sputters, Steve scoffs in agreement.

“All I know is that we can kill him, the only thing I’m worried about is how we’re gonna clear his name without Hopper.” Y/n points out.

“That’s a problem for later.” Robin says, dismissively. The whole group turns as they hear sirens in the distance.

“Shit, shit, shit.” Steve mumbles, 

“Tarp. Tarp. Tarp. tarp!” Robin says sporadically, Eddie flips the tarp over him so that he’s covered while inside the boat. The others in the group rush to the window to see where the sirens are. Several police cars and ambulances pass the house in a hurry.

“Let’s go check it out.” Steve mumbles, they all pile into the car in a hurry leaving Eddie in the boathouse, for obvious reasons. They follow the ambulance and police cars, when they arrive they see Nancy talking to two police officers, near her is a large white sheet covering the ground. She looks as though she’s going to cry. She spots them and lifts her fingers from where her arms are crossed.

She gets done talking to the reporter ten minutes later, Y/n walks to the trailer park through the forest with Nancy while Steve, Robin, Max, and Dustin all drive around and park by Nancy’s car.

While Y/n is walking with Nancy for the duration of the short walk Nancy is shaking, she can’t seem to get her breathing under control. “Who was that Nance?”

“Fred.”

-

-

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[fareasterncurlew]

My predictions for Komi's final 18 friends before 100. I feel we probably have already met all of them so far, so here who I think they'll be.

I don't think I have any wild predictions, but I'm posting this so I can see how wrong I was when the series eventually reaches it's conclusion.

Also, I started writing this before ch. 441 dropped, but the newest chapter has only made me more certain about my first guesses, which brings us to...

83: Maruko Tadano

Considering the current arc, this one seems pretty likely. We still don't know if she's related to Tadano (though I assume she is), maybe we'll learn next chapter when they inevitably become friends. That is, if the next chapter is about them at the family restaurant along with the next four...

84: Setsuko Hatohori (Egypt); 85: Sakura Sankoichi; 86: Tsubaki Sankoichi; 87: Ajisai Sankoichi

My theory is that Komi will befriend all the applicants from ch. 437 and we will continue to see them throughout the application process. I'm now even more sure of this after the recent ch. 441 and hopefully we see them again next chapter.

88: Nokoko Inaka

It's bound to happen at some point, I feel it will happen soon after the current arc but that's just a guess. I believe she's one of the most likely on this list to become Komi's friend, though maybe she'll sign her name a little later on.

Inaka has been around since being in Komi's first-year class, similar to my next entry...

89: Toshio Seikimatsu; 90: Hana Soboku

Seikimatsu has been around since the start of the manga and was the catalyst for Tadano starting conversation with Komi, that alone should be enough for him to be Komi's eventual friend. I hope he gets to take his girlfriend on a double date with Komi and Tadano like he wants, solidifying both as Komi's friends. They also both were with Komi, Tadano, and Kawai's group in ch. 403 & 402, and Soboku and Komi greeted each other in ch. 430.

91: Lily Sukida

Another character who has been around for a while. Sukida has popped up a lot so I assume Oda is planning on doing something with her character. Given that she currently doesn't approve of Komi's relationship with Tadano, I assume that will have to be resolved before they become friends.

I wonder if Sukida would have reacted differently in ch. 423 if Komi had questioned her with Rumiko instead of Tadano (she was okay with Tadano pretend dating Rumiko in ch. 433, why not herself?) but I digress, seeing Miss Tadano / Tadano in the girls' uniform again was nice too and perhaps will be part of how they'll later become friends.

92: Goro Suteno; 93: Hajime Gokudo; 94: Yae Hamaki; 95: Makina Kusari

These four have been in the story since the start of second year and have had an ongoing plotline focused on Katai.

My prediction is that upon realising Katai isn't Komi they'll assume Komi is some sort of delinquent mastermind controlling Katai from the shadows, or something silly like that, and choose to "work for her" (sign her book).

They're not the most talked about when considering possible friends, but I think they have a reasonable chance considering their current thing is, while being a misunderstanding, focused around "Komi." Speaking of characters I don't see often being brought up in these discussions...

96: Miwa Omojiri

A little outside Komi's normal friendship age range, but she recently befriended Michita so we know Komi doesn't exclude older friends. She's been around awhile, I think she could make a good friend if she had another chapter or two.

She's also the only character (besides Shiina) yet to become a friend who has their name in ch. 416.

Also in ch. 416, in the background, you can see Inaka as well as the next entry...

97: Komorebi Hiki; 98: Susumi Shujo; 99: Aoi Netsuno

Hiki and Susumi will undoubtably be a friend after ch. 436's last page. I presume Aoi will join them later and also become Komi's friend.

Considering how Oda likes to number the friends I think the order of these three will go "Hiki, Susumi, Aoi;" this is part of the reason why I don't think Hiki will be friend 100. Which leads us to...

100: Muzuka Shiina

Who didn't see this one coming? I know other people also suspect Shiina will be friend 100, and I agree. I wonder what's holding Shiina back from considering Komi a friend, hopefully we'll see when she inevitably becomes one.

This is all the friends up to 100. If this is where the manga chooses to finish this is how I think the list will go. However, I have another theory...

101: Yo Fuki; 102: Teruyoshi Jimochi; 103: Maheto Haheto; 104: Luna Neguse; 105: Fukuyoka Muchi; 106: Kanchi Gai; 107: Yakugaku Komata; 108: Hamaru Tsubo; 109: Shota Kori; 110: Takaomo Fuechi; 111: Kaoru Fukitsu; 112: Marin Saotome

Yep, I think all the other class 3-1 students will be Komi's friend as well. My theory is that upon almost reaching her goal, Komi will become closer with her classmates and want to become friends with all of them, but can't because of her arbitrary goal. Perhaps Shiina will make her realise that making 100 be the limit is silly and prompt her to become friends with the rest similar to ch. 323.

There are some other characters that could be candidates if Komi made more than 100 friends, but this post is getting long already.

Anyway, that's my silly little theory on who the last Komi friends will be. Hope you enjoyed reading :).

Most of these are pretty safe bets. I wonder what differences other peoples lists have to mine.

#komi can't communicate #komi san wa komyushou desu #just a silly little list i put together #and here come the character tags oh no #tadano maruko #hatohori setsuko #sankoichi sakura #sankoichi ajisai #sankoichi tsubaki #inaka nokoko #seikimatsu toshio #soboku hana #sukida lily #suteno goro #gokudo hajime #hamaki yae #kusari makina #omojiri miwa #hiki komorebi #shujo susumi #netsuno aoi #shiina muzuka