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evisionmediasusanfriesen · 5 months

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How Your Small Business Can Easily Leverage AI

It’s been less than a year since ChatGPT was launched, and already it’s changed the business landscape in ways we can only begin to imagine.

But even a few years ago, if you’d told me I’d soon be publishing an article on how to use AI for small business, I would have thought you were out of your mind.

Up until recently, the idea of artificial intelligence seemed like something straight out of a science fiction flick, and the thought of it being readily available to anyone with an internet connection had never even seemed like a possibility.

But lo and behold, AI is now the hottest thing in business, and quickly becoming something that business owners across the board can no longer afford to ignore.

The applications of AI are truly staggering, and like it or not, businesses are going to have to learn to leverage these tools if they want to continue to compete.

And even with all the negativity, hesitation, and suspicion surrounding this software, it seems like most businesses have already started using it, or are at least planning to do so.

According to a survey from Intuit QuickBooks, which targeted small businesses, more than eight out of ten respondents are already using AI at work, more than a third of them use it every day, and 65 per cent of them said they want to make more use of AI than they already are.

What’s more, the survey found that more than two-thirds of respondents agree that AI could contribute to the success of their businesses and 70 per cent agree that AI could help them to compete with larger businesses.

Aside from exploring the reasons why people are choosing to use AI for small business, the survey also exposed why some businesses are still hesitant to use these tools.

Despite the overwhelming enthusiasm that these small business owners seem to have for AI, more than 90 per cent of respondents have at least one concern about it, with the top three concerns being issues related to privacy, lack of regulation, and how this technology may end up taking people’s jobs.

All things considered, it’s obvious that small business owners are excited about using AI, and the benefits it can offer their businesses, but they’re also quite worried about the potential implications of using this technology, and rightfully so.

That being said, a lot of ridiculous claims have been made about AI in terms of what it’s capable of doing and the effects it might have on society, not least when it comes to business.

But as I mentioned earlier, this technology is something that can no longer be ignored if companies want to continue to be able to compete in their industries.

With that in mind, I wrote this article to dispel some of the myths and misconceptions about this technology and provide greater context on how you can use AI for your small business, so you can get ahead of the curve now before it’s too late in the game.

So, if you’re interested in learning more about AI applications for small business or somewhat skeptical of this technology and still on the fence about using it, then you’re going to want to keep reading.

My Take on AI for Small Business

I think it’s safe to say that I and my team would be considered early adopters of AI tools like ChatGPT, both for eVision Media, and my own personal brand.

Truth be told, we all had our own worries about AI, and we even held a couple of meetings to discuss our concerns and explore how we could use this technology to benefit eVision Media and our clients.

But before the dust settled on all the myths and misconceptions surrounding AI, I already knew that this was something we were going to have to get used to using, otherwise we’d be left in the dust.

The controversy around AI always reminds me of what happened when WordPress came out, and we were having meetings to decide whether or not we were going to use that tool.

Fast forward 20 years, and WordPress is now used to build the majority of websites, and no web developer in their right mind would debate whether or not we should be using it.

So, as I became aware of the seemingly endless applications of AI, and the speed with which it grew in popularity, the writing was already on the wall – this was something we were going to have to use, and we needed to figure it out fast.

Less than 12 months later, both I and my team have fully embraced the use of AI in our work, and have been incredibly excited to see how this technology has made our work easier and allowed us to provide better services and more value for our clients.

However, right from the get-go, people were making a bunch of claims about AI that always seemed pretty far-fetched, and luckily, for the most part, they’ve proven to be untrue.

Unfortunately, a lot of this ridiculous rhetoric continues to persist, even almost a year after ChatGPT’s release, so before I get into talking about how to leverage AI for small business, I want to address some of this stuff.

First off, as I’m sure you already know, even though these AI tools have been publicly available for nearly a year, we still haven’t been made obsolete.

Clients continue to come to us to handle their marketing, and if anything, they’re happier with our services than they ever have been, as these tools have just made us better at everything we do.

Moreover, as far as I know, entire industries have not been wiped out as a result of AI, and it doesn’t look like that’s going to happen – at least not any time soon.

As for whether or not AI will inevitably surpass humanity in every conceivable way and end up enslaving us all, that’s a subject for another article.

But if you want to use AI for small business marketing, you still need to have a deep understanding of marketing and know how to properly use AI to get it to do what you want.

What’s more, after almost a year of pumping out blog articles, social media posts, and email campaigns, many people can tell when content has been created by AI, and this is something that also has to be accounted for.

So, despite what you may have been told, AI won’t allow you to fire your entire marketing team and do everything yourself.

But just like it has for us, AI tools like ChatGPT can make your marketing team more productive, and improve the quality of the content they’re creating.

On that note, let’s explore what you need to know to leverage AI for your small business.

Read: Why Is Everyone so Afraid of ChatGPT?

If you want to understand how best to benefit your business using tools like ChatGPT, you’re going to need a deep understanding of what they’re capable of doing, and what they’re not able to do.

It’s also not a bad idea to gain a better grasp of all the apprehension surrounding these tools, so you’re not being misled or thinking they’re something they’re not.

So, if you want to learn more about ChatGPT, and why everyone seems to be so scared of it, then this is an article you’re not going to want to miss.

Read more here.

6 Ways to Leverage AI for Your Small Business

I understand that you might still be skeptical of AI, and hesitant to use it for your small business, but the fact of the matter is your competitors are already using AI, and if you don’t learn to leverage it for your business, you’re going to get left behind.

With that in mind, let’s explore some of the most exciting AI applications for small business and how you can go about implementing this technology.

1. Streamlining Operations and Automating Tasks

AI-powered automation tools can handle repetitive and time-consuming tasks, allowing you to provide relief for employees, and spend time focusing on more lucrative endeavours.

Chatbots, for instance, can manage customer inquiries and provide basic support 24/7, reducing the burden on your sales and customer service teams.

2. Personalizing Customer Experiences

AI gives you the ability to collect and analyze vast amounts of customer data, which can allow you to personalize interactions with customers.

Recommendation engines, for instance, which are based on AI algorithms, can suggest products or services tailored to individual preferences, thereby increasing sales, and ensuring you’ll have even more satisfied customers.

3. Enhancing Marketing Strategies

As we’ve learned over the last 12 months, small businesses can leverage AI to understand consumer behaviour, optimize marketing campaigns, create content more quickly than a human could ever dream of, and target specific demographics more effectively.

For example, AI tools like ChatGPT can predict trends, identify patterns, and optimize ad placements across various platforms, allowing you to get a better return on investment.

4. Improving Decision-Making with Data Insights

AI-powered analytics tools can process and interpret data infinitely faster and more accurately than their human counterparts.

This provides the opportunity to make more data-driven decisions, uncover insights, and forecast trends, leading to better strategies and increased competitiveness.

5. Automating HR Processes

AI tools are already being used to streamline various HR functions, such as resume screening, candidate sourcing, and even employee onboarding.

Furthermore, AI-powered tools can also assess employee performance and suggest personalized training programs, which can help to make your team even better at what they do.

6. Managing Finances and Predicting Trends

Algorithms can use AI to analyze financial data, predict cash flow, and identify potential risks, and this can make it much easier to make informed financial decisions for your business.

At the same time, AI can help in predicting market trends and fluctuations in demand, allowing you to adjust much more quickly than you could on your own.

Implementation Strategies for Small Business AI

Now that you’re aware of some of the most valuable applications of AI for small business, you’ve got a much better idea of what this technology is capable of doing.

But knowing what it can do and being able to apply it to your business are two very different things, so below, I’ve offered some advice on how to actually go about implementing this technology in your business.

Start Small and Identify Specific Needs

If you’re new to using AI for small business, it might be a good idea to start with a pilot project addressing a particular pain point.

Identifying areas where AI can add immediate value, such as customer service or data analysis, can help you to better understand the advantages it provides and gain greater buy-in from your team by showcasing the tangible benefits of this technology.

Leverage AI-Enabled Tools and Platforms

Numerous AI tools and platforms offer cost-effective solutions for small businesses.

The base version of ChatGPT is completely free to use, and cloud-based AI services like Google Cloud AI, Microsoft Azure AI, or Amazon AI also provide highly accessible and easily scalable options that don’t require heavy initial investments.

Invest in Employee Training

While AI can automate tasks, it’s not going to do everything on its own, and human oversight and expertise are still incredibly important.

That being said, providing training programs for your employees to help them understand and work alongside AI tools will help to ensure a smoother transition and maximize the potential of this technology.

Ensure Data Security and Compliance

Because AI relies heavily on data, ensuring robust data security measures and compliance with regulations is absolutely critical, and this is something that will become increasingly apparent moving forward.

With that in mind, you should try to learn everything you can on this subject now, otherwise, you could put customers’ data at risk, erode the trust that they have in your brand, and expose your business to potentially serious legal consequences.

Do you want to learn more about how AI can benefit your business? Why not book a free 30-minute consultation with me to find out how we can help?

To your business success, Susan Friesen

P.S. If you liked the article, you might want to subscribe to our newsletter. We publish tons of valuable content to help you learn more about marketing, and subscribing is the best way to ensure you don’t miss out. Additionally, if you’d like to learn more about building a search engine-optimized website, click here for our free website guide.

#ai for marketing #ai for business #ai technology

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wacknroll · 2 years

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Ya like glitter glue?! PT 3

(Yandere Sun/Moon x reader)

Hello, here is the third chapter to this fanfic!

PT 1, PT 2, PT 4

AO3 link

Word count: 2554

Driving back to your workplace, you think to yourself that maybe going back to potentially confront the same robot that just manhandled you earlier today might not be the smartest of ideas. Especially since they’re malfunction. Hell, he might not even be responsible for the loss of your keys. For all you know, your dumbass dropped them in either the ball pit or even in the staff break room. But your gut told you that it was him, the only thing backing up that belief being that you swore your pant’s side pocket was buttoned up, meaning someone at some point had to have been close enough to unbutton and take them without your notice.

Before you knew it, you were already in front of the Pizzaplex, taking no real time to get there. The only benefit of living so close to a local attraction. You would have just paid for a night in a motel, but the prices were way too ridiculous, and your stubborn ass would prefer to be in the comfort of your own home if you had to choose. You sigh, deciding to commit to this half-baked plan. You exit the car and look at your phone. 11:15, it says, hopefully enough time to search before the place is properly locked up for the night.

Quickly entering the building, you make your way to the staff room first. Better check just in case, you thought to yourself.

---

Looking under the couch while on your hands and knees, you groan in frustration. The keys were nowhere in sight in the break room, meaning you had to look in the play area in the day-care now. You pick yourself up from the floor and head towards the door, only for it to be slammed opened and to have a light temporarily blind you.

“Y/n? What are you doing here?” The voice asks, the light now moved away from your face.

You shake your head and rub at your eyes, the white dots finally leaving your face just to be met with the gaze of the security guard, Vanessa.

“I, uh, forgot my keys somewhere,” you explain.

She cocks an eyebrow at that.

“And you didn’t bother to ring in and report your missing keys?” She questions.

“Yeah, I didn’t really give it much thought. I figured I could just try and find myself, seeing as I know what they look like,” you say sheepish.

“There’s another 30 minutes ‘til midnight. If you don’t find them in time, you’ll have to look tomorrow. Unless you want to spend the next 6 hours in here.”

“Uh, no.”

“Good. If I don’t hear from you after midnight, I’m going to just assume you left. If you’re still here after everything is locked up, just head to one of the security offices and radio me. I’m going to leave you to it now, I have other duties to attend to now.” With that, she walks out of the room and continues her patrol.

“Uh, thanks?” You say to her retreating form, leaning out of the room. Vanessa doesn’t give you a reply, as she either didn’t hear you or doesn’t care enough to say anything else.

One of those types of employees, you think. Walking out of the area, you make your way back to the main hall where the entrance to the day-care is. You would eat closer to the day-care, but you went to the other break room simply because it was your usual spot and where the employees you were more familiar with hanged out in. Besides, James would probably kick your ass if he had to walk all the way from the Arcade to the day-care just to talk to you. It was way easier when you were working in Monty Golf.

“I kind of miss that goofy alligator,” you say to yourself.

The day-care centre was still lit up, which you were grateful for as you’d rather your chances of running into Sun than with Moon. In fact, you actually haven’t seen Moon since your first day. Opening the door to the play area, you see that everything is there except for the animatronic himself. You reason that he’s probably in the basement for maintenance tomorrow.

Your keys appear to be no where on the surface of the front desk, so you decide to start looking through the cabinet drawers in search of the keys in hope that Tim might have found them and put them away. The drawer that usually contains small items found in the day-care don’t have any keys in them, meaning you’d have to check the ball pit next. You look over to the other side of the play area and then up at the entrance of Sun’s room, practically willing the animatronic to stay away. Walking at a fast pace, you make your way to the ball pit try to figure out where exactly you might’ve landed.

“Please be in here,” you say, begging whatever entity to make your keys magically appear. After looking for a moment, you decide that it’s best to give up looking in here for now and probably coming in tomorrow during the day to check. You check your phone to see that it’s now 11:50. Sighing, you decide to just give up for now and exit the ball pit, walking towards the large wooden doors of the play area. As you reach the doors, you notice a small box on the middle of the floor.

“What the...?” You look around you in hope of catching whatever might have left the box. Seeing that you were still alone, you slowly walk up to the box and gently open the top of the lid. The content within the box consists of a few pieces of paper and your keys, Freddy Fazbear keychain and all. This development both surprises and fills you with a sort of dread. Double checking your surrounds, you decide to just pick up the box and take it back with you to the car. Making your way out of the day-care, you quicken your pace towards the front entrance of the building, happy that your time spend here was basically boring.

Once you were in your car, you decided to drive straight home before looking through the box. As you turned the car around and away from the Pizzaplex, you swore you saw a tall lanky figure at the entrance doors.

---

Using your rediscovered keys to open the door to your flat, you enter, holding the box under one arm as you lock the door and sit at the kitchen table. Opening the box, you pick up one of the three pieces of paper within.

The first one you pick up is the finger painting that Sun shoved in your face on your first day in the day-care. The painting was different though, as it was obviously ripped apart and then sticky taped back together, as if someone tore it in anger and then quickly regretted their actions. Definitely not creepy in anyway that so ever, you think to yourself. You put the drawing to the side and proceed to pick up another one. This one was a letter, written in red crayon and having a smiling face at the top right corner.

“Sorry for taking your keys,” you read out loud. “I put some sunnydrops in the box just for you. Please don’t be mad, I just wanted to see you again but realised you might be angry with me about taking the keys. Yours truly, your super best friend, Sun.”

You give a small frown at this, unsure about if you’re still angry with the animatronic now. You look in the box and see that there is in fact a large hand full of sunnydrops at the bottom of it. There isn’t any point in eating them now though, seeing as you won’t be able to sleep tonight if you do. With this, you place Dun’s apology letter on top of his painting and reach for the last one left.

This one was in black crayon and written in all capital letters, only contain the word ‘LIAR’ over and over again. Flipping the page over, you see that it was written on both sides of the piece of paper. The letters were written so hard on the paper, that there was scratches and dents from the pressure of the crayon.

“What the fuck?” You say to yourself. This was definitely creeper than the torn-up painting. Was this about earlier when Sun asked you what Tim and you were talking about? Did he realise afterwards that you were lying or knew straight away? These questions kept running through your head until you realised something. How did Sun place that box in the day-care if he was supposed to be in maintenance?

These questions were left unanswered as you packed it all away back in the box and went to bed.

---

You slept in that night, seeing as you weren’t going to be working today anyways. When you finally got up, you decided that you should ring up Brenton about that maintenance report on Sun. Getting your phone and ringing up, the phone is quickly answered.

“This is the working manager at Freddy Fazbear’s Mega Pizzaplex. How may I help you?”

“Hi, Brenton. It’s Y/n, I was wondering if Sun’s maintenance report has come in yet?”

“No one filed a report to have him checked.”

This response wasn’t what you expected.

“What do you mean by that? Didn’t Tim hand one in yesterday?”

“Tim didn’t send in a maintenance request yesterday. What he did hand in was his resignation letter.”

“What do you mean he quit?” You ask, completely baffled from the news.

“He sent me an email with his reason last night,” Brenton replied.

“Just an email? Didn’t you see him at all?”

“Look, Y/n, I’m very busy. I don’t watch every employee that comes in and out of the premises. I’m actually still dealing with all the paperwork from when the day-care attendant snapped a child’s arm like a twig.”

“Well, didn’t you take him to maintenance for that at least?”

“Look, it’s just easier having naptimes taken off of the daily rooster than it is to fix the damn robot. Do you know how expensive it is to repair or replace an animatronic that can switch between two personas? Hell, he’s probably the most expensive robot we have, right behind Monty and that giant list of damage control that follows him!” Brenton’s voice becomes more heated as he speaks, making you wince a little at the growing volume.

You hear a long sigh on the other end of the phone.

“Sorry about that,” he finally says, calmer than before. “I just have a never-ending stack of Monty related incidents that gets bigger each time I look at it. But look, there isn’t much I can do, as I have bigger priorities at the moment.”

“Okay, but what about my shift for the rest of the week? Did you tell me that Tim was the only other qualified worker to take on afternoon shifts at the day-care? Who is going to work with me tomorrow?”

Another sigh comes from Brenton.

“I’ll have it sorted. I might even have to hire someone a step down from what we usually have working in there. It’ll be sorted beforehand, I assure you. I’ll be going now; I have a mandatory meeting to get to.”

Before you even have the chance to say goodbye, he hangs up.

“Goodbye to you too, then.” With that, you drop onto your couch and scroll through your phone. You decide that you should try to text Tim, seeing as he gave you his number in case you had any questions related to working in the day-care.

‘Hi, it’s Y/n. I just heard that you quit yesterday, what’s that all about?’ You type. Placing the screen onto your chest, you wait for a response text.

After a few minutes, your phone vibrates. You quickly lift the screen up and see that Tim replied.

‘Yeah, family related. Sorry.’

That’s a good enough as to why he quit, you reason. You then text back.

‘Sorry to hear, dude! Hopefully it’ll go well!” You then add a little smile emoji to the end of the text.

The second reply he sends is nearly instant this time.

‘Thanks. I got to go now. Busy. Bye!’

You send a bye back in response. Now a bit more at ease than before, you decide to get some stuff done in the house while you can. Cleaning your many work shirts, tidying the place, and then watching some movies. By the end of the day, you are exhausted and decide to go to bed a little earlier than normal.

---

Sun stares down at the phone in his hand, reading your messages over and over again. He was excited to finally have a way to talk to you outside of your working hours but was a little annoyed that he had to pretend to be someone else. Even though you and Tim were on the other end of the play area, his hearing could pick up everything the both of you heard as if he was right next to you. Maintenance? Why would he need maintenance? He didn’t even do anything wrong! You were perfectly fine when you landed in the ball pit, though a bit shaken up. The screen of the phone he holds cracks a bit, snapping him out of his thoughts. Sun quickly turns the phone back on to see if it is still functioning and is happy when it is.

When you left work, not even saying goodbye to Sun, Tim went back to dealing with the angry parents who calmed down once one of the managers showed up. By the time basically everyone but Tim was gone, Sun was practically livid. The fact that you went to Tim to get him to take Sun away made him furious by the second. The animatronic had never felt this way before and felt confused as to how to react. So, he did the only thing he could think to do in that moment. When Tim had his back to Sun, he turned off the lights.

Once the lights were back on, Sun was sitting in his room, no evidence of Tim anywhere to be found. All but the phone he now held. Not wanting to think about what he had done, you decided to put something together for you. Grabbing a box, he put in some sunnydrops and wrote an apology letter along with placing his finger painting of the both of you. Then he placed your keys on the top. He felt bad about taking your keys, even though he thought you would realise they were gone and come back straight away.

At some point, the lights go off again and Moon decides to also write his own letter to you, expressing his anger about what you did earlier in the only none physically violent way he could. Moon contemplates crushing your keys just to be petty but reframes from the action.

“No, no, no. We can punish Y/n for being a naughty little liar another day.”

#fnaf #fnaf security breach #fnaf moondrop #fnaf sunnydrop #fnaf sun #fnaf moon #yandere moondrop #yandere sunnydrop #yandere fnaf #sunnydrop x reader #moondrop x reader

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moodymelanist · 3 years

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I beg I beg I beg for part 2 of Nessian pregnancy🧎‍♀️ never seen or read anything more adorable

hell yeah I can do this, nonnie. I had so much fun writing the first part that who am I to say no to a second 🧎🏽‍♀️

also as a general PSA: please note I am not currently accepting drabble/prompt requests! i have a whole bunch to get through and I have zero problem deleting even the cutest requests if people can’t respect that. thank you!

now onto the story 😌

Nesta had discovered that one of the worst symptoms of her third trimester was how often she had to go use the bathroom. Especially in combination with how often the baby would sit on her bladder, she seemed to spend more time on the toilet these days than off it.

Her poor husband never complained about her new bathroom habits once, not even when she’d wake him up from getting in and out of the bed so much. They’d even switched sides so she didn’t have to walk so far, something that made her love him even more than she already did — he was selfless and compassionate and just kind.

After her latest midnight trip to the bathroom, she found herself staring at her reflection in the mirror. She was practically ready to pop with how rounded her stomach was, but there was a rather large part of her that was absolutely terrified that she wouldn’t be a good mom.

She hadn’t said anything to Cassian about it; he was so good with kids that to think he’d be anything but an amazing dad would be ludicrous. But her? She didn’t know the slightest about how to make a kid happy, and she didn’t exactly have the best role models. Her mother had only paid attention to her daughters when it benefitted her, and her father wasn’t exactly winning any number one dad awards anytime soon.

Nesta didn’t realize she was crying until she felt a warm hand rubbing her back. She turned to see her husband standing in the doorframe, his hazel eyes wide with concern.

“What’s wrong?” he asked her softly. She let him pull her into as close of a hug as she could manage with her stomach.

“I…” she began. Even after all this time she had to battle the urge to not say anything, even though she knew good and well he would never judge her. “I can’t help but worry that I won’t be a good mom.”

“Why?” he responded, sounding genuinely confused. That was another thing she appreciated about him — he would never tell her she was wrong for feeling the way she did, even if they both knew she was being ridiculous and irrational.

“I have no idea what being a good mom looks like,” she said. She sniffled and he reached out to wipe her tears away. “I’m so scared that I’ll end up just like my mother and ruin our baby.”

“You won’t ruin our baby, sweetheart,” Cassian said immediately. “There’s no universe where that’s even a possibility.”

“But you don’t know that,” Nesta said.

He gently started guiding her back to their bed as he responded. “I do know that, though. Your mom may have been shitty, but at the bare minimum that taught you what not to do, right?”

“I guess,” she replied warily. He helped her sit down on the bed before walking around to the other side and sitting down to face her. “But just because I know what not to do doesn’t mean I’ll be any good at this.”

“I know you’ll be a good mom because you’re an amazing person, Nes,” he said, reaching out to cup her face. “You have so much love to give that it’s impossible for you to fuck this up. Will we be perfect parents? Probably not, but that’s okay, because we have each other.”

Nesta was fighting tears again, but this time they were because of how much she loved her husband. He always knew exactly what to say to her to reassure her.

“If it makes you feel any better, I’ve worried about this too,” he added. “You’re so good at all this parenting class stuff and I feel like I have no idea what I’m doing.”

“You’re going to be an amazing dad,” she said, turning her face to press a kiss to his hand on her cheek. She couldn’t believe he was worrying about this when he was…. well, him. “I really can’t believe you’ve worried about this.”

“Why?” he asked, amused.

“You’re just so warm and fuzzy. Babies love warm and fuzzy.”

“Babies also love having fresh diapers and being swaddled, but I’m nowhere near as good as you at that stuff.”

Nesta couldn’t help but laugh softly as she came to the same conclusion he’d offered her earlier. They might struggle — no, they’d definitely struggle — but everything would work out in the end because they were a team.

“I can teach you how to swaddle better tomorrow,” she promised. “But even if you can’t figure it out, you have so much love to give, too. I think our daughter will care much more about that in the long run.”

Cassian nodded, and she couldn’t help but notice that he looked a little teary-eyed. She leaned forward as best as she could to press a soft kiss to his lips.

“Besides,” Nesta said, smiling, “If we could survive ten years of each other, I think a baby will be a piece of cake.”

#acotar #acosf #nessian #nesta archeron #cassian #pregnant!Nesta #anon asks #nessian prompts

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cryptiql · 3 years

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smoke signals

pairing: dabi/m!reader

warnings: smoking, mentions of anxiety and abuse, but otherwise okay. please do not read forward if any of the listed warnings might trigger you in any way, and stay safe <3

words: 6.5k

a/n: this is my first ever mha fic and the fact that i decided to do dabi first shows i have some massive balls but i'm giving it a try! if he seems ooc at all or i get some facts wrong, please lmk and i'll fix them. (heavily inspired by smoke signals by phoebe bridgers—would recommend listening to it or any of her other songs while reading)

dabi found the meaning of life in a simple strum of chords; a melody twisted by melancholy tunes that resonated deep within the gates of his mind. they haunt him—either by breaking his conscious from a much needed rest to bring him tossing and turning in the damp air of the loft, or making sure that he stayed wide awake during the late hours of the night and well into the creeping day. the lyrics are so surreal that he has to sit down and contemplate their meaning like an english teacher would to the color red, but they're painted saccharine and drip with honey flowing from the mouth that sings them and he hates it. he hates that he's wasted moments better spent wrecking havoc just to understand that stupid little ditty that clings to his heart like a leech. but this song did not come from his own craft—no.

dabi had known the putrid stench of sweat and vermillion blood when the flames licked at his skin, breaching the coarse flesh of his palms to rain hellfire upon all those who dared oppress him. he could weave lies with knots that would take years to unravel, and set whole cities ablaze with a mere finger. clawing oneself from a well built to drown them in their trauma does tend to leave scars on ones hands, and dabi's body was practically a canvas for mutilation, so he could consider himself an expert on the matter. he could attempt to make such a song by strapping in with his many hours of free time and diligent persona, but his hands were not made for music; neither delicate, sonorous tunes or dark, grating strains. they were made for war.

so if anyone had asks, "no" is his answer. "i don't play." and yes, it is while he's drumming a rhythmic beat that he claims this to be true, but the last thing he thinks about is donning a set of drums during his free time. he's far too distracted by the image of your taper fingers curled around the neck of your guitar to consider anything else.

the gentle but keen plucking of chords startles him from yet another ridiculously long-winded spiel by shigaraki, and dabi swallows a strangled groan behind his grinding teeth. it's in his head, now, and so far the only thing that has succeeded in reaping it from his memory—if only for a few minutes—is the blood stained battlefield that he's found himself fighting on far too many times this month alone.

what's he complaining about, though? it's not as though he minds getting down in the dirt. in fact, he's ecstatic to dig his claws into any gruesome ordeal so long as it benefits him in some way, so why is he so invested in this little to and fro game of twenty questions with the likes of you; someone as significant in the world as a paperclip without paper to hold? why come back, despite there being nothing in it for him besides a series of migraines?

not from you, a voice answers from inside. you're an absolute pleasure.

dabi nearly snarls at the confirmation that his own mind is turning against him, and as he does this, a plume of smoke erupts from his lips, billowing and curving to create intricate patters before dissipating into the atmosphere. a second time. a third. a fourth drag from the cigarette has completely obscured his face from anyone's view, and he relishes in the instant of privacy it gives him. however, it has also blocked him from seeing everyone else in the room, and while he normally would have considered that a blessing, it appears tomura has had enough of it.

you get headaches because you smoke too much, comes a second voice; yours, scolding in a way he'd only expect from a worried mother. dabi only has a split second to register it before shigaraki's head pokes through the fumes, red eyes alight with rage and lips pulled back into a snarl.

"would you quit doing that inside? it's fogging up my brain and i can't think straight." he grates.

"strange—i assumed there wasn't a brain in there to fog up in the first place." tomura's nostrils flare and dabi's pride spikes.

"besides, you came in here and looked directly at me as i was smoking—why didn't you ask me to stop then?"

"i was telling you with my eyes, idiot. you should know when it's time to either take it outside or put the damn thing out. there are ashtrays for a reason, and not everyone here wants to inhale that shit." he interrupts their intense staring contest only to wave his hand to clear the smog. now he can see the rest of the league clearly (oh joy, he thinks) and gives an indignant grunt when spotting toga at the bar table, covering her mouth and nose as a pitiful aim to block her lungs from the smoke. twice, who had unfortunately used up the last pack of his own cigarettes that morning, leans forward to take a whiff, exhaling soon after with satisfaction.

kurogiri stands at his usual spot behind the bar, seemingly unaffected as he idly scrubs away at grime infested glasses, while sako lounges at the opposite end of the room. his mask is on, leaving dabi to wonder if it's been like that all day, or if he just recently put it on to better fend off the fumes. he doesn't really care, whatever the case.

after a beat of silence, dabi wets his lips to respond, a lopsided smirk growing on his features.

"oh, i'm sorry your frail body hasn't adapted to a bit of vapor in the air. and with that flakey skin of yours, it's no wonder you're extra sensitive—"

shigaraki's hands come flying through the next waft to slam against the tabletop where dabi's feet lie, causing it to wobble and creak in protest. the ravenette doesn't even flinch as the harsh, raspy words are spat in his face.

"if you're not going to pay attention, then leave. actually, i'd prefer you do that either way."

and dabi would have happily disregarded his request if not for the faint ringing in his ears, rising higher and higher before receding back into his skull like the tide. a scowl morphs its way onto his once vacant expression as he puts pressure on his temple, rubbing softly where his eyebrows knit together. just for today, he'll indulge his so-called boss's whims. the piercing screech that emits from below when he pushes his chair back does nothing to help with the ever-growing headache, but it hardly matters now that he's headed out the exit. he's able to catch the last fragments of shigaraki's raving before the door closes, leaving him to stand amid the tumult of the city in all of its glory.

the alleyway is dark with looming shadows, but people are still milling about, so dabi considers himself lucky for already being dressed in his disguise. he flips his hood up, pulls the surgical mask over his nose and quickly slides on his sunglasses for good measure before slipping out into the traffic, sometimes going with the flow and then weaving past those moving too slow for his liking.

right now, his patience is a mere thread; hair thin and on the edge of snapping whenever someone bumps his shoulder. their negligence is infuriating, and he's tempted to roast them into a charred, mangled mess then and there—the consequences of blowing his cover be damned—but by some miracle, he manages to refrain from doing so. it takes about five minutes for his temper to shorten to the length of a matchstick, and he knows that one more shove will be what strikes it. dabi pauses for a moment to crane his neck, allowing the sea of people to flow around him like a stream to a rock as he searches for an alternative route. it appears as though he'll have to take his chances with the crowd until he hears the repetitive ringing of a bell and a man's voice calling for passengers to board. public transport was risky, what with him being a menace to society, but he can't possibly be the single most shady dressing person on the train, right?

he wouldn't bother answering his own question when daylight was burning, so dabi pushes himself from the swarm and leaps for the streetcar just as it begins pulling away from the stop. there's a shuddering jolt before the passengers settle in for their departure, and as his palms squeeze the metal railing in response, he notices the peeling red paint clinging to the car's exterior and finds himself staring at it for a ludicrous amount of time, not thinking about anything in particular.

the rickety trolley is semi-packed with civilians, none of whom regard his presence with anything more than a noncommittal glance. good—that makes his job ten times easier. to his chagrin, it runs over more than a few opposing train tracks or crudely paved bumps in the road, and this causes the whole cart to jostle before stilling completely, the process repeating itself over and over.

the knowledge that his trip to the outskirts of town is a short one is the only thing that calms his nerves.

when dabi finally arrives at his destination, the sun is gradually descending from its peak in the sky, and the clouds are more like wispy tufts than the luscious, cotton candy lumps they were just hours earlier. overhead, the baby blue hues turn to shades of opal; a forewarning of rain. the feelings of irritation and malice from earlier are still bound to him like chains that threaten to snap him in half when drawn too tight. the crippling weight causes his feet to drag along the gravel path at a sluggish pace, his own hot breaths fanning against his face from behind the mask. if anyone actually lived out here and they were to see him, their first impression would be that a living corpse had just waltzed onto their property. it was just his luck, then, that you were the only person out here, and by extent, the only one not deterred by his appearance.

even so, dabi's mind kicks into gear. was this a good idea? he doesn't even know why he came here—he just needed a place to blow off steam and his body had already made the choice on its own. this isn't any different from all the other times, though, and he can't ignore the fact when it sits in the pit of his stomach like an anchor. you're always the first person he goes to at times like these (dabi subconsciously rules out the man working at the local 7/11 who sells his liquor cheap, though he's still appreciative of the bottle to numb his thoughts). that tells him more than he wants to know.

your house is quaint, like those old country cottages he sometimes sees pictures of, and squats on a large, grassy mound of earth surrounded by heaps of rocks and sand from the neighboring beach. it merges with a towering lighthouse, and dabi notes that there must not be any sailors due to make port yet, otherwise the light would be on. the second thing he takes in are the flowerbeds sitting under your two front windows, and how they look withered and close to death.

"i wanted to add some color, but i can't keep plants alive for shit." you had said, huffing in amusement to yourself as you tended to the weeping alliums. "succulents are the only exception."

a small pot of them sits on the windowsill, but they seem to have gotten to big for it; the rubbery leaves spilling over the cracked rim. he hardly registers how much of a stalker he must look like until he stands on your welcome mat, peering through the dirty glass panes to find you nowhere in sight. the lights aren't on, so he can only see the outlines of furniture when bands of light stream in to reveal them.

sitting back on the balls of his feet, dabi curses under his breath. it's not like he was expecting anything. how was he supposed to know whether or not you were home when you had no way of telling him?

"jesus, patch!" a shout startles him from his brooding, but he doesn't let it show as he looks towards to ocean. you're hauling yourself over a large rock to wave him over, wearing a familiar grin. so that's why he couldn't see you. dabi makes careful work of leaping over jagged stones and threatening to bake any nosy seagulls as he makes his way to where you sit, with your favored instrument slung over your shoulder. the ghost of a smile graces his lips when he recalls how you would have scolded him for being mean to the birds, but that was before last week.

"pesky fucking bastards—they keep shitting on my music sheets!" another seagull waddles into your vicinity, only to squawk in distress as you shoo it away with your foot. "i wonder if this is natures way of telling me to quit while i'm behind. . ."

after breaching the treacherous terrain and nearly scraping himself in the process, dabi squats on the stone beside yours, looking up at you with hooded eyes. you meet his gaze with nothing short of merriment and a shake of your head.

"if someone had seen you, you would have been arrested on the spot for being a peeping tom." you chuckle, combing a hand through your hair with a smirk. "what? you lookin' you catch me in the nude or something?"

dabi scowls, choosing to ignore the question rather than give into the bait. as if i would be satisfied by looking at anyone but you in that state. he swats the air as if it would drive the notion from his mind like a bothersome fly.

"in the middle of fuck-ass nowhere? i'd never get caught."

"aw, don't be like that. if you really wanted a peek you could've just asked." the mocking tone in your voice spurs him to smack your thigh, which earns a hearty laugh in reply.

"ooh, don't treat me so roughly, or i might begin to like it!"

dabi has had more than enough experience with your flirtatious tendencies, and he feels he should have gotten used to it by now, but his heart still clenches every damn time. the worse part? he can't say that he minds. you don't give him a chance to respond, but dabi hasn't a clue what he would have said, so he lets you continue, watching intently as you rifle through your bag to fish out a guitar pick. shifting into a crisscross position, you perch the guitar on your lap and begin tuning the strings, idly talking about how uneventful the past days have been. dabi pretends not to have heard that it was because he wasn't there to visit, and instead gives his attention to the lighthouse in hopes that you won't see the faintest of reds dusting his ears.

five minutes pass before you actually start playing, and even then, it's only a few experimental notes here and there that help you build towards the perfected melody.

it's too sweet for his taste; dabi swears that's why his stomach turns so ferociously and prompts him to lean against the boulder to his right for some sort of stability. he won't even humor the idea that it's because of the way your lips twitch into a near half-smile before melding back into a concentrated frown the moment you strike a wrong cord. an embarrassed flush captures your cheeks as you study the music sheets, briefly pressing down on them when a sudden breeze flutters the pages. the pencil that was once tucked behind your ear now sticks out from one corner of your mouth, a flash of pink and orange melding together when you go to absentmindedly gnaw on the wood.

many more minutes fly by, and you've long since abandoned the new tune just to pick up an old one. dabi's back straightens at the first set of strings you pluck, and he recognizes them as the same ones that have been playing on repeat in his head since the day you met.

dabi's heart hammers in tune with every footfall that slaps against the pavement, tearing through the small pools of water that grow with every second. it hasn't stopped raining since the chase began, and there isn't an inch of him that hasn't been soaked through. still, something good must come from this little dilemma—the burning sensation that clings to his arms has almost settled down. the silhouettes of trees merge with inky blackness when he blinks, and he reaches with trembling hands to wipe the droplets of water clinging to his eyelashes.

a yellow square of what assumes to be light shines in the distance, contrasting wildly adverse to the darkness that sweeps him up from under his feet and pushes him forward. the sound of police sirens has been reduced to a mere memory in the time that was running, but he isn't about to risk going back to the league's base in fear of a stakeout waiting to get the jump on them. besides, why stop there when the possibility of shelter awaits him?

the bottoms of dabi's shoes are slick with mud, and blades of grass have snuck their way under the cuffs of his jeans to scratch at his skin. the sensations paired with the numbing cold are beyond uncomfortable, but he won't have to worry about that once he gets inside—that being if the person inside doesn't put up a fight.

he'd expect them to be mad if they did anything except that, no matter how welcoming the house looked. dabi's instincts tell him that someone out this far from the city doesn't a have a lot of connections, and thus killing them wouldn't cause an uprising if it were needed, but the minute he grips the doorknob, a thought occurs. if they have a quirk, its power could level my own or even surpass it. . . he grits his teeth. but like hell i'm going to let them win.

the hesitation vanishes in an instant as dabi turns the knob and thrusts himself inside, wielding a blue flame in his dominant hand to further illuminate the room. the wind is so fierce that it pulls the door shut for him, and the villain finds himself staring down the unperturbed figure of another man, perhaps around his age, hunched over a stove and glaring at a steaming kettle. they lock gazes, and almost immediately, the kettle gives a high pitched whistle. you look away first, lifting the pot and turning the burner off whilst opening the cupboard overhead to pull out two mugs, both of which adorn ugly christmas-themed patterns that dabi wishes he could forget ever seeing.

his glare hardens when you move to the table in the far corner and begin pouring what he assumes to be tea, taking one cup into your own grasp and leaving the other at his own disposal. your one mistake is grabbing your phone from the counter, but when dabi's flame enlarges, you hold your arms up in defense. then, before he can even formulate a proper threat, you toss the phone to him. he catches it easily and observes the dark screen, masking his astonishment with a more sinister expression.

the only other move you make is to drape yourself across a cushion on the window seat with an acoustic guitar in hand. you look more relaxed by the second despite being cornered by a dangerous criminal, and dabi has to refrain from voicing his shock when you address him with an almost bored tone.

"if the tea isn't to your taste, there's more in the cabinet. shower is down the hall to your left, and there's a spare bedroom upstairs to the right. do whatever the hell you want, just don't burn the place down or touch my freddie mercury records."

dabi is stuck to the spot for one of three reasons, he determines. one, your attitude has surprised him into a stupor that not even hiw own will can break. two, his refusal to believe that you're handling this situation in a calm manner is really just his defense mechanism kicking in, and he won't move until proven that you won't do anything when his back is turned. and three, you're quirk is similar to that of madusa's and you've successfully turned him into a fleshy mannequin.

"if you're worried about me calling the cops, what you're holding is the only working phone here. the power is out due to the storm, so my landline is dead, and the nearest form of help is a crippled old widow five miles west. i'm not going to risk running when i'm up against someone with a quirk."

dabi considers everything said, but never once allows his fire to dim. he took the surrounding area into account while making his escape, and he can see the landline is in fact out of service, so the male's assurances checked out. hell, the light source that guided him here was nothing but an old-timey oil lamp. the fact that you're quirkless does him a great amount of good as well.

with cautious steps, dabi makes a beeline for the bathroom, but he stops halfway to stare at you again. you respond by quirking a brow and kicking your feet up, something akin to mischief in your guise.

"i can take the shower with you since you're so afraid i'll make a break for it." you drawl, and dabi snarls, a fowl cuss bubbling in his throat as heat crawls its way up his neck.

"why, with a blush like that you might not need any drying off~."

dabi decides that he's had enough and storms down the hall, already peeling off his dripping clothes and and silently promising that he'll burn the guy to a crisp if he so much as tries to catch a peek. he can hear you calling out in hilarity even as he slinks into the shower and attempts to drown you out with the static-filled haze that captures his senses.

"the name's, y/n, by the way!"

try as he might, dabi had never been able to keep from coming back. now the reason why has been revealed to him on a silver platter, and he won't even spare it a glance.

your soft singing snaps him from his reminiscing as he stretches his legs, stifling a groan when something pops as not to disturb you. while digging through his pockets for a cigarette, he stops momentarily for fear of forgetting how to breathe when he lays his sights on you. you're in your own little world; everything else—him included— seems to have disappeared as you play from the heart. you need no standing ovation, no adoring fans or fantastic lightshows. you've said it once, that fame and glory mean nothing to you, and that you have all you could ever want or need right here, nestled in the beachside view of what you call home.

"and i have you." a cool breeze ruffles your dirt stained overalls as you reach up to wipe a bead of sweat from your forehead. the sun beats down on you, never shining half as bright as your smile, and the shore kisses the boulders with waxing and waning waves of aquamarine; frothy, foamy masses washing up with it to carry lone strands of seaweed. "otherwise i'd go mad without your company."

okay, that was lie. the truth is right there, practically spitting in his face how much of an idiot he is for trying to deny it, and dabi is glaring right back at it. he feels like an impatient kid on christmas eve, sneaking glimpses of gifts under the tree and feeling like he's committed a felony after getting caught. and you do catch him.

"penny for your thoughts, patch?" there it is—that stupid nickname. it's always been laced with mirth when you call him as such, but now it's replaced by genuine curiosity. and is that a hit of concern he hears? you study him with pursed lips and stony features that gradually morphs into that of concern when the silence stretches on. dabi forces himself to sneer at you, and something stirs inside his chest when you don't flinch.

he hates it. he hates you.

dabi nods to the sky, a guarded noise building in the back of his throat as he tugs on his earlobe.

"s'gonna rain." your jaw visibly clenches, but you humor his evasive habits just like you always have, looking to the clouds, which have darkened considerably in the last hour or so. it's around this time that the weather patterns become more unpredictable, but you've noticed the distinct lack of rainfall in spite of the gathering storm brewing overhead. you could sit out here for a while longer without much activity in the sky, and it would take more than a little shower to drive you inside, especially when you finally had the chance to enjoy some quality time with dabi. you notice the way his shoulders droop and the tension from his facial muscles all but disappears when he sits amidst the smell of fresh salt water and unpolluted air—the weight of his past slowly but surely ebbing away. you'd like to hope you have some part in that. oh god, do you ever hope.

you plead to whatever omnipresent being above that he's not just here to hit a blunt without getting reprimanded for it, or that he's making these daily visits out of pity.

"nah. it's been like this for a little while—looks like a storm will hit, but then it passes before it even begins." you sling the guitar back over your shoulder and gather up your music sheets, eyeing dabi from your perch. you're challenging him now, and normally you would never dare force him to speak if he didn't want to, but something about his aura is off. you can sense it in his words; the very air he breathes; and it compels you to hold him close, if only he would let you.

"so, you gonna tell me why you're avoiding the ques—" a deep rumble interrupts you, and dabi lets out a sigh of relief that you're thankfully too distracted to hear. a single drop of water hits your nose, followed by another, and another, and—

"you were saying?"

"oh shut it." you don't get to finish speaking, for a crack of lightning strikes the far end of the beach, scattering sand in every direction. you just barely manage to scoop up your belongings before sliding from the rock, but your footing betrays you and send you stumbling to the ground. dabi is there to catch you, wasting no more time in hauling you to your feet and rushing you as carefully as possible through the jagged maze. he can't refrain from smiling when you splutter a string of profanities pass poorly hidden laughter, an unmistakable "FUCK ME!" spilling into the cold evening when you accidentally stub your toe on a particularly sharp stone. it's pouring within seconds, and no sooner do you reach the doorstep do you both realize how sopping wet you are.

the last thing you think of is your chattering teeth, however, when you see dabi's spiky tufts of hair dripping with residue and his electric blue eyes gazing into yours. what you do think is that for the first time in your painfully ordinary life; your twenty three years of mediocrity and progressive isolation from the world around you; you have found the single person who understands your struggles and has chosen—for some unfathomable reason—not to abandon you. you wish you could say your parents were the same, but you also have scars from a distant childhood that brought you to this place.

this old lighthouse is your home, yes, but dabi is your sanctuary. he might as well be a god by how often you worship him from afar, wondering if ever you'd be so lucky; so eternally blessed; as to call him yours.

you don't register that he's opened the door to let you both inside until a cozy warmth envelopes you. no, wait, that's dabi's fire. it should terrify you that the same man who threatened you with those flames is now at arms length, but you trust him not to hurt you in any way, and so you lean into the gentle licking of heat on your skin, humming in content as your shivering comes to a halt.

dabi's fear of burning you diminishes when you flash him a grateful smile, a whisper of thanks echoing across the walls and pummeling his heart without resistance. he averts his eyes with a curt nod, a feeling like molasses weighing down his tongue and drowning the words he wants to say.

"you're welcome." is all he can muster.

half an hour later, your guitar is drying by the hearth and the two of you are huddled on the window seat, nursing cups of coffee and watching the storm in a comfortable silence. you haven't blinked in a while, meaning you've wandered off the tracks of consciousness as suspected, and pretty soon, you start singing quietly to yourself; the deep crooning used as background noise to your aimless meditation. dabi nudges your calf with his foot and is rewarded with a brief quirk of your lips and a nudge back. he doesn't have the patience nor the brain power to decipher how long this goes on for, but it doesn't matter.

this is fine. the image of red hair and a tall, intimidating figure invades his train of thought, and dabi curls inwards on himself. this is fine.

but it's not.

trembling, he places his mug on the table before retracting back into his seat, clasping his hands together. he tries visualizing the ties of his life coming together to form a rope. the fingers on his left—memories from his past—linking together with those from his right—memories made with you. his palms connect, bringing instant relief with the knowledge that he's here now, practically nestled between your legs, out of harms way. you're both fine.

dabi takes the swelling anxiety and pretends to crush it within his fist; clenching and unclenching it until his peace of mind returns.

"penny for your thoughts, patch?" you ask again, still in somewhat of a trance. this time, dabi answers.

"why do you call me that?"

you're caught of guard, half expecting him to ask why you haven't turned him in to the authorities. you've seen him without his disguise, you know his name, and for the past eight months you've been socializing with him like normal human beings do. that's more than both of you could have said in the past. of all the burning questions, he chose that one? "i've heard 'patchwork' and 'staples' and just about everything in between. why shorten it to patch?"

you gape at him, opening your mouth, then closing it, and so on. the pitter patter of rain against the window has ascended into relentless pelting. it sounds like gunfire to dabi; assaulting his ears in floods; but to you, it's nothing more than a waterfall hindering your view of the ocean. the deep breath you take seems to put more suspense in the atmosphere than needed, and it makes dabi's heartrate quicken for an entirely different reason, yet he makes no sign of stopping you.

"because my first thought whenever i see you is how much you remind me of a doll." oh. what?

you can tell by dabi's reaction that that wasn't what he was expecting, so you gesture for him to wait. he isn't sure he likes the forlorn expression you're wearing.

"typically, when kids first get a doll, they treat it like glass and make sure to tend to it with love. other times, doll owners are reckless and tear them apart just to stitch them back together like nothing happened. you use that camouflaged to blend in with the public, and i'm lucky enough to see what's under it. . .but sometimes i wish you'd keep the mask on so i don't have to see you upset."

upset? a fizzing sound erupts from his palms that he struggles to put out. he's not upset.

"don't try to hide it. you're always scowling when you think i'm not looking, or when you forget i'm even here, and i know it's because someone broke you without the intent of fixing you up."

once more, red clouds dabi's vision, and he moves to stand up.

"you had to clean up after their mistakes because no one else would, but instead of reusing the bits and pieces of your old self, you burned them. you destroyed any and all evidence of who you used to be and now you're patching yourself together with parts that aren't your own, because you don't want to hold onto what happened. though, something tells me you still haven't let go, otherwise you wouldn't be so angry."

"you don't know that!" he snaps, but he knows it's not true.

your hand closes around his wrist, and dabi recoils with such strength that it yanks you from your seat. dabi doesn't want you to let go, no matter how much he thrashes in place, because the sensation of your skin on his grounds him. somehow you know this, and you give a comforting squeeze to his pulse.

"but that's not all i see. because dolls are beautiful, and it's the ones who still love them after they're broken that they need the most. no one's told you they think you're beautiful, have they?"

dabi shakes his head, refusing to meet your gaze even when you cup his cheek with your free hand tilt it towards you. every touch is filled with hesitancy; feather light and more intimate than anything dabi has ever witnessed, let alone experienced personally. with the way you hold him like he's water in your hands, your eyes overflowing with a love he hasn't known in forever, dabi knows he won't find another feeling like it. you're not the embodiment of good—at least not by society's strict standards—but at least you can sit there and say you've committed a crime. you've never bloodied your hands by hurting others, much less gotten a thrill from doing so, and that's why he pulls away. he has to, because dabi is a harbinger of war, and if he holds you any closer it will only be to kill you.

he says something; a snarl mixed with a broken plea that he prays will make you stop; and you do. his silent victory doesn't last for long, though, because then you're using both hands to cradle his face and fuck, the pads of your thumbs grazing his scars feel like heaven. "won't you let me be the first?" how could he say no? how, when the taste of honey and whiskey is so addictive that he's already drooling into the kiss and willing to beg for more; when your mouth slots perfectly with his and dabi begins to wonder if he's stumbled right into the scene of a cliché wattpad story. the idea causes him to huff out a growl, and although neither of you can talk, he can imagine how strongly you must want to poke fun at him for the action. he can feel you smirking—the smug little bastard you are—and dabi ponders how long it will take to reduce that attitude of yours until you're submitting to him.

not yet. he chastises himself, completely unaware that you're currently thinking the same thing. dabi kneads the flesh of your hips through your jeans while you comb your fingers through his hair, gasping sharply between bruising, wet kisses and keening when he leans down to nurse your lips with soft pecks afterword. you're still trying to process the fact that you've coerced this devious criminal into making out with you in the pale glow of your seaside residence, but for the moment, you need not concern yourself with the details. you've forgotten all about dabi's ego and how this whole situation is no doubt feeding its flames. his grip on your waist is making you too delirious to care.

"fuck." dabi's breath is staggering when you finally pull back, an aura of clarity and desire hanging between the two of you.

"y-yeah. . .that was. . ." you can't produce a word, or even a paragraph to describe it. you know you're going to hit yourself later for admitting such a banal phrase in the midst of what could be classified as your very first kiss, but that is neither here nor there, and you would rather suffer an agonizing death than let dabi find out that he stole your first. you're too preoccupied envisioning all the other firsts to come, so you don't notice the way he stares at you like some precious jewel, but his fingertips brushing your bottom lip succeed in snapping you out of it.

"hm?"

dabi goes quiet, contemplating what to say as the thunder moves abroad and the rain comes to an end, leaving the house in a numbing state of tranquility.

"why not call me doll, then? it'd be easier."

you chuckle in response, playing with the hairs at the base of dabi's neck and making sure not to miss the way he melts into the affection. "i thought that'd be moving too fast." and dabi; still drugged from your kiss and what he can only hope is love; rasps out a genuine laugh, cupping your jaw with a tenderness that makes your knees weak.

"you offered to take a shower with me the night we met, and you think a nickname is moving too fast?"

you stick your tongue out at him, and dabi resists the urge to grab it, even if it's just a bluff.

"would you have let me call you that anyways?" you ask, something hopeful ridden in your tone. dabi feigns consideration as he looks to the ceiling, snickering when you smack his chest. eventually, he murmurs what you audibly hear as "brat" before resting his forehead on yours, an impish glint in his gaze.

"no."

you turn your chin up at him, giggling when he nips at the skin. dabi knows just as well that your attempts at escaping him are halfhearted, so he encircles his arms around your waist tighter, delighting in the flush that paints your cheeks.

"then i think i'll settle for my love, or darling, if that's alright with you."

dabi can't fend off the blush for his life, but he's not afraid if you acknowledge it. he can get you back easily, and he plans to. "fine by me, doll."

#⛓.dabi #dabi x male reader #dabi x reader #anime x male reader #mha x male reader #touya todoroki x male reader #my hero x reader #my hero x y/n #boku no hero x reader #x male reader #bnha x you #dabi fluff #dabi angst #dabi imagine

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vs-redemption · 3 years

Note

hii! i swear i read your request rules but i’m still worried this doesn’t follow them. anyway i figured i’d ask and you can obviously decline ahahah. i just read Gray and it’s so well written and makes my heart shiver and i wanted to ask if you’d write a part 2 or a one shot/scenario of having levi as a soulmate in the same eye color soulmate au as Gray? thank you !! :) (^･ｪ･^)

From Cindy: I apologize for taking so long to get to this! It took me a while to get an idea I liked, and then I had trouble getting into the mindset to write it. Inspiration finally struck though, and this is the result! I hope you like it!

Soulmates (Levi x GN!Reader)

Based on the same AU as Gray (Levi x Gn!Reader)

⚠️angst and hints of sex work (Levi’s Mom)⚠️

Levi loved safety

Being born in an extremely run down and sketchy part of the city was one of the worst fates a person could experience. Ever since Levi could remember, he’d been burdened with warnings from his mother who had learned most lessons about living amongst the dregs of society the hard way. He never stepped a foot outside their tiny one room home without hearing her voice expressing concerns about who he talked to, which streets he went down, how late he stayed out, and which shops he visited. There was danger everywhere and no one to protect him.

“Levi, stay close to me,” the woman would say to him when he was younger. Even going out in the middle of the day was a risk for them because his mother had a reputation. In order to feed him and keep the roof over his head, she’d reduced herself to a line of work that garnered an uncomfortable amount of negative attention. In a world ruled by the existence of soul mates, everything about their lifestyle was wrong and all it took was seeing a woman with duel colored eyes and a child for someone to know she’d committed the biggest taboo.

At first, Levi didn’t understand why anything about his mother’s appearance would cause such a stir. He’d seen plenty of people with two colored eyes, including himself. As he got older though, his curiosity grew and one day he made the mistake of asking about his father. The pained look on his mother’s face filled him with regret immediately, but he sat and listened to her intently as she explained the ways of their harsh reality.

“Your eyes are a promise,” she’d told him as delicately as possible. “A promise not to share yourself with anyone until you meet the person who you are destined to find and be with forever.” Levi had been filled with sadness for his mother when she admitted to breaking her promise. It was clear that she’d only committed such a disapproved act out of absolute necessity. People were judgmental though and could only see the fact that Levi’s father had not been the woman’s soulmate, which is why her eyes remained mismatched.

“You can still find them,” Levi had tried to hold on to a glimmer of hope for her, but she just smiled sadly and shook her head. The likeliness was low at her age, and even if they happened to cross paths, her past and status as a single mother would drive any respectable person away.

Levi loved stability

After learning about and coming to terms with the truth of this mother’s situation, Levi became determined to help her out in any way possible. He didn’t want the woman sacrificing herself for him any longer. And once he got older, he begged her to start staying home while he did what he could to provide for them both.

“It’s not your job to take care of me, Levi.” She’d smiled at this thoughtfulness while cupping his cheek in her delicate hand. “Everything I’ve done will have been worth it as long as you can have a better life than me.”

He understood her sentiment, but was too stubborn to give up. It was hard to find honest work in a town full of desperation and poverty, but Levi did his best. He took odd jobs here and there, and tried not to get mixed up in any of the bad business that ran rampant in the area. The money he earned wasn’t nearly enough to cover the cost of his small home though. After a handful of threats from the landlord to toss them out on the street, Levi knew he had to do more.

Levi loved familiarity

Resorting to petty theft went against everything Levi’s mother had taught him, and he knew it would probably break her heart if she ever found out. Still, he couldn’t allow their home to be taken away, or worse, his mother to return to the work she’d done before.

He had to be smart though. Being caught stealing in his neighborhood could get him killed. Going into the nicer parts of the city would be a better bet. He didn’t know the area as well, of course, but there was the benefit that he wouldn’t be recognized if anyone saw him. If he did happen to get caught by law enforcement, he’d end up in a jail cell rather than a cold ditch somewhere. Neither option was ideal, but stealing from the rich would have to do until a better plan presented itself.

Things went decently for a while, and Levi was a quick learner. He figured out what worked and what didn’t without having too many close calls. He made sure only to take enough to get by since the thought of being too similar to the criminals he’d grown up around made him sick to his stomach. It was only a matter of time though before his luck ran out. Rumors of a pickpocket spread and people began to act more cautiously about carrying their valuables out in the open, forcing Levi to get more reckless with his stunts.

It was on a particularly frustrating day that Levi caught a glimpse of you. More accurately, he caught a glimpse of the leather purse filled with coins hanging from your hip as you chatted away with a friend outside a popular confectionary. With practiced movements, he slipped into the crowd and made his way in your direction, thinking that snatching up the money would be simple and easy. He’d made a mistake though. Your pouch wasn’t tied up like he was used to, but secured with a metal ring designed specifically to prevent the very act he was trying to pull.

You begin to turn around as soon as you feel the tug on your belt and Levi freezes for a moment, trying to think of a way to get out of the situation. One word from you and everyone in the vicinity would be on him. As soon as your duel colored eyes met his however, something happened that put all other thoughts out of both of your minds. Levi watched in shock as you blinked once, twice, and then suddenly your left eye changed color completely to match your right. The look of initial alarm on you face softened and Levi knew he had to get out of there. He turned on his heel, ducked his head down, and walked away as quickly and as naturally as his legs would allow. He waited for any sign that he was being pursued for a moment or two and then broke into a run.

Levi loved certainty

In his panic, Levi didn’t even greet his mother as he rushed past her once arriving at home. His heart was pounding and a light sweat covered his forehead uncomfortably. He went straight to the bathroom to stand in front of the cracked mirror above the sink. It took a few seconds to muster up the courage to look into his reflection and find that everything that had happened was real. The two colored eyes that he was so used to were gone.

“Levi, sweetie, are you all right?” his mother appeared in the doorway, looking scared. “Did something happen at work? You’re not usually home this early!” He turns to look at the woman who notices his matching eyes immediately. Her hands come up to her mouth which spreads into a smile and tears spring into her eyes. “Congratulations! Who is it?”

The question makes Levi feel ill. Never in his wildest dreams did he imagine he’d meet his soulmate while trying to rob them. And if his mother found out, she’d be so disappointed.

“It doesn’t matter,” He tells her stiffly. “I can’t be with them.”

The words were far from enough to satisfy his mother though, and she nagged him the rest of the evening with questions about what you looked like and where he’d saw you. He kept his lips sealed until he’d had enough of the interrogation.

“Please, my obligation is to you and nobody else,” he tells his mother. “I don’t know anything about this person. Not only do I have no interest in being with them, I’m certain they have no interest in being with me either.”

“Levi, this is all I’ve ever wanted for you,” his mother begs, taking his hands into her own. “Do not live your life feeling empty and alone. Take this chance and find your happiness.”

Levi shakes his head, refusing to even consider it. His only focus had been himself and his mother for so long that it seemed ridiculous to add a third person into the mix now. It was better to pretend he’d never met you, and he imagined you would feel the same way. How disgusted did you feel knowing your soulmate was the infamous pickpocket? It would be even worse once you found out where he lived and about his mother. Surely you were both better off without each other.

Levi hated the thought of a life without you

Despite his resolution to continue on with life as normal, it only took a few days before Levi caved and went back to the spot where he’d encountered you. The image of your face had never once left his mind, and there was an incessant need to see you again that he could not ignore. He thought perhaps one more look couldn’t hurt, and he had to go back anyway if he wanted to collect enough money to pay his landlord that month.

“I hoped you’d come back.”

Levi had been sure you wouldn’t recognize him after only getting that small glimpse, but apparently fate had engrained his face into your memory as well. He whirled around, his gaze immediately locking with yours. It was wild to see the familiar color of your eyes looking back at him. He had no idea why you’d be here looking for the person that tried to steal from you. The cautious smile on your face as you introduced yourself put him on edge as well. “What’s your name?”

“Levi.” He hadn’t meant to say it, but part of him already felt an attachment to you. What was more, hearing your name for the first time felt like a fire had ben lit inside of him. He shakes his head to get his mind straightened out. “I shouldn’t be here.”

“No!” the panic in your features makes him falter, “Please stay. Can’t we talk for a moment?”

“I’m sorry,” Levi backs away, trying to fight off the instincts rising up inside of him. He didn’t want you to be sad and he didn’t want to disappoint you. He knew though that it was inevitable that he would.

“Levi…”

Hearing his own name spill from your lips was enough to have him second guessing everything. Would he really be able to go the rest of his life without hearing it again? He wasn’t sure he was strong enough to stay away. He’d already come crawling back once already after all. As a last resort, he knew what he had to do. He had to tell you everything. And he did. He revealed his entire life story to you without hardly pausing to take a breath, knowing that every detail would drive your further and further away. Having so soulmate at all was much better than having a soulmate like him.

By the time he finished talking, tears had welled up in his eyes as well. His mother had told him to take the chance for happiness, but instead he’d violently thrown it away. A few seconds passed and suddenly you were slipping your hand into his. It was the wrong reaction to the story but he can’t help but tighten his grip around yours anyway, wanting the comforting feeling you brought to last forever.

“I’m so sorry you and your mother have had to fight so hard just to survive,” you tell him softly. “But you won’t have to live that way any longer, or at least, I want to join the fight with you.” The genuine kindness and determination in your voice was overwhelming for Levi. Somehow he knew you meant every word, and the image of a brighter future for all three of you began to take shape in his mind. He had no idea if such a future was actually possible, but with you at his side he knew he’d definitely be willing to try. Being born in the roughest and seediest part of town had to be one of the worst fates a person could experience. Levi knew that first hand. He also knew he wouldn’t trade that fate for the world if it meant having you as a soulmate.

#Levi x Reader #levi ackerman x reader #snk x reader #aot x reader #Levi Acerkman #aot #snk #Soulmate AU #Cindy's Writing

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the-infamous-coat-of-baron-zemo · 3 years

Text

Missed Opportunities - Helmut Zemo x Reader | Chapter 2

Here it is! I'm managed to whip up another part to this story. I hope you all enjoy this next bit!

If you missed out on Part 1, it's here.

Word Count: 2300 and some change

-----

Side Note: Obviously, I have taken some liberties with the plot and timeline of TFATWS. So this will be loosely based on the timings of what has happened, but will not be a chronological order of events occurred.

Much love to you, and thank you for the inspiration! And yes, there will be a Part 3 because this was more of a set-up chapter. So hopefully you won't be too disappointed with this one.

~Sandra~

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

As things turned out, your conversation with Bucky and Sam went surprisingly well. Once you were finally able to say your own piece and explain the entire story, a lightbulb seemed to have gone off within both of them.

Sam, of course, was the most understanding, realizing that the reaction Zemo had was surely due to the intense trauma of what happened. He went on to explain; he had seen those types of emotional outbursts between complete strangers who had similar experiences when The Blip happened. They would come into support groups to tell their own stories, once upon a time when the world began trying to make sense of what happened.

He said it was normal. And Sam was right, he's always right. It was a perfectly logical explanation, and those are the things you look for and stood by.

Except, this.

Nothing about Zemo's reaction felt normal. The connection upon seeing him again twisted up your insides and set your nerve endings on fire. None of your previous interactions ever gave you pause like this. No, this was different. Seeing the raw emotion on his face. The intensity of how closely he wrapped you into his body, as if he were trying to consume your entire being. You were held so closely to him, you could felt the beat of his heart, hear the raggedness of his breath, and sense the tremors beneath his fingertips.

Clearly what happened had changed you both. It would be hard not to given the enormity of the event. Again, you tried to think back to your time visiting him over the past couple of years in prison. Was there always a connection between you? Simmering beneath the surface? And The Blip was simply the catalyst to uncovering something hidden? You scoffed. Now you were just entertaining nonsense. Yes, it was emotional, but this was Zemo we're talking about. There's always a reasoning behind his actions, and they're usually executed in ways that only benefit him.

And just like that, logic and sanity had finally returned to you, like a cold bucket of ice water dowsing you over the head.

You remember looking to Bucky after Sam had finished his explanation and acceptance of everything that had transpired. You had sagged in relief noticing he had taken the information in stride and was no long on the defensive. However, in the following days after, you would always catch him now and again eyeing Zemo with some sort of suspicion. You figured with how manipulative the slightly unhinged genius could be, James was simply keeping a watchful eye on him. And why should he? We all should. Zemo was not to be trusted, and yet - deep down, you felt as if you were lying to yourself. That when push came to shove, you could trust him.

And that scared you.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

All of you were gathered around the kitchen island discussing tactics on where to locate Karli. Bucky had pitched we should be looking in isolated and abandoned areas, but Sam had different feelings on the subject. He felt they should be looking in more highly populated areas, as he believed they would want to try and blend in with the community like normal citizens.

So of course they start bickering, again.

You wanted to roll your eyes at them in utter exasperation, but held back. Instead you settle for a face palm as you continue to map out possible routes Karli and the Flag-Smasher may travel to stay accessible, but not completely visible to the public eye.

As you were zooming into a particular area that looked promising, you felt the brush of someone's hand against yours to the right of where you were sitting.

It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out who it was. Sam and Bucky were still debating who's idea would bring around to most promising results in the short amount of time we had before Karli decided to strike again.

You peered up at Zemo thinking he was hovering to catch a glimpse of what you were working on, but instead you were surprised to see he had simply poured you a cup of tea and set it next to you.

The brush of the hand was deliberate though. This you knew for a fact. Over the past few days since your little reunion, you noticed Zemo had been silently giving you brief bouts of physical contact. Nothing overtly sexual in nature. In fact, they were quite light and fleeting. Sometimes, it was a brush of his hand against yours, a soft touch at your lower back or the slide of his fingers against a hip as he walked past you.

You weren't quite sure what to make of the actions. They certainly didn't disrupt you, but your body always took immediate notice when he did it.

The chair you were sitting in had swiveled when you went to look at Zemo. You had planned on quietly thanking him, but he had already moved to the opposite side of the island to observe the land markings Sam had drawn up on a paper map.

You gently picked up the tea cup and brought it to your lips. The warmth of the tea emanating from the cup was a balm for your hands. Before taking a sip, you closed your eyes and inhaled the scent of the tea. Ah. Cherry blossom. Apparently, a favorite of his according to James.

When you opened your eyes, Zemo was now watching you. You tilted your head to the side and smiled graciously at him, mouthing a 'Thank you' in reply to his kind gesture.

The corner of his lip twitched up in response to your thanks, nodding back at you. He held his gaze as you took a sip of the tea.

Your eyebrows shot up as you swallowed the tea. It was quite delicious. You pointed to the cup and nodded your head up and down in quick succession to show your appreciation.

You could tell Zemo was holding in a chuckle, but refrained from expressing himself fully. You had narrowed your eyes, and thought about calling him out on it, but ultimately decided against it. Instead you motion your head to Sam and Bucky acknowledging their ridiculousness. Zemo just dismissed them with a, 'What did you expect?' type of look.

Finally you had enough of the two knuckle-heads on the other side of the kitchen and decided to intervene on their behalf otherwise they would never accomplish anything today.

"You guys planning on coming to a conclusion any time soon, or should I start selling tickets to this show?"

James stopped his rant and turned to you, "He started it," pointing his finger at Sam. "Sam just doesn't want to admit that my prospective places have added value that his don't."

"Now wait, that's not entirely true Bucky. I just think -," Sam started in again, but you had cut him off before he could finish.

"For the love of - how old are you two? It amazes me Steve got as much done as he did with you two around," you shook your head in feigned disbelief.

You might have felt bad about your slight outburst, but it was absolutely worth it to witness the sheepish expressions on both Sam and Bucky's faces. You wished you had snapped a picture. Definitely would have made it your new lock screen on your phone.

"If it's okay, I'd actually like to offer a third option," you said, motioning them over with a flourish wave of your hands.

As Sam and Bucky moved over to you, you shifted your eyeline to Zemo, "You too Zemo. Let's get your opinion on this as well since you are a resident to the area and more familiar with its surroundings than we are."

Zemo rose from his place and came to rest at your side, hovering, but not in a suffocating manner.

Even though Zemo had kept a reasonable amount of distance between you, Bucky seemed to show some displeasure as you saw him scoot him a bit out of the way as he tried to put some distance between the two of you.

You bit back a comment in favor of going over what you had discovered and turned to Sam, "I know we want to locate Karli as quickly as possible, but there are too many variables to account for when scouting buildings that they could be hiding out in. I propose we search in hidden pathways that could quickly get the Flag-Smashers in and out of different parts of the city without being readily detected."

"Alright, that does make sense, so what are you suggesting?" Sam tilted his head in agreement before gesturing for you to continue.

"Take a look at this map," you swipe your hand up the computer screen to show a holographic image of an underground rail system.

"Those look like the old track lines from a railway project that was never completed. If I remember correctly, the government abandoned the project when they ran out of money. Most of the tunnels were built, but never quite finished," Zemo interjected.

"Exactly," you turned to him beaming.

You moved your hands animatedly as you were excited by this prospect, "These tunnels travel throughout the entire city. Karli and the rest of the Flag-Smashers can easily maneuver where they need to with these routes. If I were to put money on it, I'd bet you could find their insignias left on the walls of the tunnels below as a potential guide that could -"

"That could lead us straight to their hideout," Zemo finished, smiling with what could be described as something akin to pride, clearly impressed with the astute observation you made.

"I see where you're going with this. You know, you might be onto something. Especially with our truncated time table," Sam chimed in. "Bucky? What do you think?"

You turned your chair around so you could face the three of them fully.

"Yeah, I agree. I think there's a legitimate chance we could find some clues at the very least," Bucky replied, leaning in over your left shoulder to get a closer look at the image.

Memorizing it most likely.

"If I may suggest, here?" Zemo said, pointing to a location not far from them.

You saw Sam and Bucky turn to each and nod in agreement of the starting point.

"That's good. It's also close to one of the last places we spotted Karli, so it makes sense to check it out first before branching off somewhere deeper," Sam assented.

You turn back around and start typing on the keyboard. A few moments later a ping erupted from everyone's phone.

"I sent the map to all of us, so we each have a copy," you stated.

You closed the laptop and hopped off the chair you had been sitting in, packing your stuff up into your backpack off to the side.

"Whoa. Whoa. What are you doing?" Bucky said, placing his vibranium arm on your shoulder to pause your movements.

"Getting ready to go?" you questioned slowly, as if your actions weren't obvious.

"You're not coming with us," James stated sternly.

You turned to look at Sam.

"Listen, Bucky's right," Sam answered. You saw him hold his hands up in the air and shrug before placing a hand on your shoulder before continuing, "I know, it's a shocker, having Buck and I agree on something - but when it comes to your safety, we both feel the same."

You chewed on your inner cheek, knowing this was going to most likely be a losing battle. You pursed your lips, closed your eyes slowly, and sighed before lolling your head to the side in defeat.

Sam grinned knowing he won and dropped his hand from your shoulder, as he left the kitchen to go get his gear.

Bucky came up from behind you and gave you a quick hug and kiss on the head.

"Thank you," James murmured before moving to the door.

"You can't fault them for caring," Zemo said, voice carrying softly through the air.

You pivoted around to where Zemo was, watching him adjust his holsters and making a move for his coat.

"I know," you begrudgingly admit.

Zemo put on his coat and walked over to stand in front of you.

"It may not be completely dangerous, but there's always a chance, and it's not one your friends are willing to take with you," Zemo stated.

You drop your head slightly to stare at the floor. He was right. Sam and Bucky just wanted to look out for you, but that doesn't mean you couldn't be helpful down there. You do know some self defense. You spent 10 years around Steve and various Avengers over time, it's not like you weren't going to pick anything up.

"Zemo let's go," Sam said briskly, as he walked past them to meet Bucky at the front door.

You lifted your head up and saw Zemo give a curt nod to Sam before focusing his attention back on you.

Zemo started to walk by you, but paused to lean into, grabbing your wrist to gently rub his thumb over your pulse point and whisper, "And neither am I."

With that, he abruptly walked off to join Sam and James.

Your wrist was tingling with sensation even after Zemo had left your side.

Before they all left, you managed lean over the island to strangle out, "Please play nice with each other and come back in one piece!"

You could hear the huffs of laughter as they left and the door clicked shut behind them.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

#helmut zemo x reader #tfatws #helmut zemo #baron zemo #sam wilson #bucky barnes #my writing #missed opportunities #team zemo #mcu fic #the falcon and the winter soldier

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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

Text

Good Help - chapter 2 - ao3 link

Despite the circumstances of their first meeting, Meng Yao mostly appreciated A-Jue for his quick mind and fearlessness – and, yes, occasionally for his towering height that made grabbing books from high places infinitely easier – rather than his muscles, however impressive they were. In fact, after the first few weeks, he had very nearly forgotten that A-Jue was a guard of the inner hall.

The assassination attempt put an end to that oversight.

It wasn’t that Meng Yao hadn’t anticipated such an attempt, nor that he hadn’t taken precautions. He was careful to take his meals in the communal kitchen at unexpected hours and tested even the snacks he kept with him before consuming them, and naturally avoided any unsupervised hallways or attempts to lure him outside, but he had underestimated the enmity that greeted his appointment: he had not thought that they would launch a direct attack.

The perpetrators entered his office as petitioners, posing as clerks for an influential merchant, and launched the attack just as they were settling into the rhythm of negotiations. They were hoping to catch him distracted, which they did, but Meng Yao had always had good instincts; he realized what was happening the first moment they moved. He was out of his chair and reaching for the flexible sword he stored around his waist almost at once, already calculating how many injuries he could incur and still be able to fight back enough to preserve his life – he just needed to survive until the guards came in, unless they’d somehow gotten rid of those, in which case he needed to run –

The calculations proved unnecessary.

By the time Meng Yao’s hand reached the hilt of his blade, A-Jue was already in front of him, catching one assassin the chest with a vicious palm strike and knocking him into the path of another, turning fluidly to slam an elbow into a third.

He didn’t even draw the saber that hung low at his waist, just knocked aside the assassin’s swords and daggers with his bare hands and then beating them with his fists and feet.

Meng Yao stood there for a moment, blinking, and by the time even his quick-moving mind caught up with everything the assassins all were unconscious or paralyzed, the merchant was on his knees begging for mercy and swearing to his ignorance, and A-Jue was standing there, frowning slightly at one of the still-twitching assassins like he was considering going in for more.

“Why didn’t you draw your saber?” Meng Yao asked, both because he was curious and because it was a better reaction than saying I forgot you could do that or I thought I’d be facing them all on my own again, or, even worse, thanks.

“I thought you’d want them alive to question them,” A-Jue said, blinking at him – he had the same expression of good-natured puzzlement as he did any time Meng Yao corrected him, whether as to his calculation of accounting errors or underestimating the malice inherent in mankind, which remained a subject of recurrent disagreement. “Was I wrong?”

“Not at all,” Meng Yao said, and felt once again the thrill of power when A-Jue nodded and called for other guards to enter and remove the bodies, although he crouched by each one first to check them over for any suicide pills or arrays that might interfere with an interrogation. His professional detachment and efficient resolution of events was truly suitable for a guard of the inner hall, the finest of Wen Ruohan’s soldiers; there could be no complaints.

There was something truly delightful about having a powerful man at your beck and call, Meng Yao reflected, and wondered briefly if A-Jue had been sent his way deliberately as a plant to infiltrate his confidence. It seemed unlikely, given the random nature of their meeting, and certainly A-Jue didn’t fit any of Meng Yao’s known pre-existing preferences, other than in terms of bedpartners. And yet he grew suspicious, if only because A-Jue suited him so very well, just right in every way…

Meng Yao spent the next three days conducting a series of covert tests to see if any information was being leaked from his office through A-Jue, but there was nothing. Ultimately, he was forced to conclude that A-Jue might actually just be – like that.

Straightforward and blunt, fearless in both speech and action, decisive and capable and yet willing to take orders from Meng Yao, never judging him for his birth but respecting him for his abilities…

Good help, he reminded his suddenly over-active libido. Hard to find. Don’t ruin a good thing.

It was hard to remember, though. A-Jue was just the sort of man Meng Yao liked when he went for men: handsome and powerfully built, well-born or rich or both, stern and unyielding in demeanor, the sort of man for whom life generally went the way they wanted. The sort could easily get a girl, even one of good breeding and appropriate lineage, merely by snapping his fingers. The type of man that might tempt even a practiced whore.

Meng Yao liked to break those types of men.

It was a trait he shared with Wen Ruohan, and one of the ways he had managed to get the Emperor’s attention – that first job he had taken had been in the Fire Palace, the Emperor’s torture chambers, and he had worked out a considerable portion of his anger and anxiety through the torment of his enemies, defined liberally as anyone who insulted his mother. He’d matured since then, growing calmer, but he still liked to put proud men on their knees and make them service him, to rub their faces in the fact that he was the one with the power, to make them crawl and plead and cry for him. Though he supposed for someone like A-Jue – he wouldn’t need to break him, really.

It’d be enough to see him bend. Willingly, for him.

And yet, if Meng Yao did that, wouldn’t A-Jue start to flinch from him and turn away from him – seek to preserve his injured pride by fleeing Meng Yao’s presence, the way so many others before him had? It would make working together much more annoying, and A-Jue was perfect the way he was.

Almost irritatingly so. If only A-Jue were more inclined to make errors, Meng Yao would feel freer to take advantage of him.

“Have you ever thought less of me because of my parentage?” Meng Yao asked one evening, apropos of nothing, when A-Jue was already exhausted and more than a little wild-eyed from having to review every single one of the reports on wheat yields in their northern provinces as part of Meng Yao’s random audit of the files.

“I mean, Jin Guangshan’s a waste of space, but you’re nothing like him, so not after the beginning,” A-Jue said automatically, then scowled at Meng Yao when he started laughing. “What? Give me a break, I didn’t know you then! How was I to guess that you’d actually be competent? Or – not awful?”

“I was,” Meng Yao said with dignity, even if his lips insisted on twitching, “referring to my mother.”

“But you hate it when people talk about your mother,” A-Jue said blankly, then shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry, is this some sort of mind game? If so, can it wait until tomorrow? I’m going to dream in wheat prices.”

“It can wait until tomorrow,” Meng Yao agreed, pretending to be solemn. He wasn’t sure if he was more amused at A-Jue’s ridiculous perspective on things or the fact that he seemed to think Meng Yao was not awful simply because he’d indulged him a few times when he was being especially insistent on doing things the soft-hearted way.

“You’re making fun of me again,” A-Jue grumbled. “I don’t know why, but you are. Fuck you.”

The next day, Meng Yao asked A-Jue if he’d ever been to a whorehouse.

“Yes, while on campaign,” A-Jue said, blinking rapidly as if he were trying to hide something, or more likely not think of something. Either he’d had a bad experience or he thought Meng Yao was going to cut off his balls for admitting it.

Which he wouldn’t, of course. There was nothing wrong with the better sort of customer, and Meng Yao felt certain that A-Jue would have been that sort, could imagine him sitting in the corner with a jar of wine and a blush until he was coaxed upstairs and then paying too much for the privilege, after...but it was cute that A-Jue worried about such things.

Meng Yao put a friendly hand on A-Jue’s shoulder – the man flinched, briefly, but quickly mastered himself, just as he did any time anyone touched him – and said in his best sugar-sweet sympathetic tone that he hadn’t had to use on anyone in ages, “Did she touch you in a bad place?”

“The honored viceroy can go fuck himself any time he damn well pleases,” A-Jue said, and he had no idea how much Meng Yao would like to ask him if he’d prefer to do the honors himself.

“Do you know any other curses, or is it just variations on the term ‘fuck’?” he asked instead, thinking good help, good help, good help. “I know at least three dozen involving farmyard animals, if you’d like to learn.”

A-Jue’s laugh was in no way like a braying donkey, no matter what Meng Yao pretended to insist.

“Have you considered the benefits of a regular routine of physical exercise?” A-Jue asked.

Meng Yao glared at him.

“I’m just saying,” A-Jue said. “It would make your life easier.”

“Shut up and help me get down from up here,” Meng Yao hissed – A-Jue had taken care of the vicious snarling creatures that had somehow gotten loose, an obvious follow-up assassination attempt now that the poisoning he thought he’d identified in a late-night dessert had been demonstrably unsuccessful, even if A-Jue had insisted that they were just “sweet little puppies” and Meng Yao was “overreacting”.

“I’d be happy to help train you, if you’d like.”

“I’m far too busy,” Meng Yao said with what little shreds of dignity he still possessed. “I do three times as much work as you do, I don’t have capacity to running off to go wave a stick in the air multiple times a day like some people.”

A-Jue grinned at him, utterly unmoved, and Meng Yao huffed, rolling his eyes at him.

“If I agree,” he said, with no intention whatsoever of agreeing, “will you finally show me your saber?”

If there was innuendo in there – well. He was only a man, after all.

“Perhaps one day,” A-Jue said. “It’s not a privileged I give to everyone.”

Meng Yao tried to parse whether that was flirting. He couldn’t quite tell.

“Well, your saber is very large,” he said, probing. “Maybe you should take it out more often.”

“When I take out my saber, someone dies,” A-Jue said, and – probably not flirting, then. “I wouldn’t want to accidentally skewer you.”

Possibly very strange flirting? Meng Yao wouldn’t put it past A-Jue.

“Yes, well,” he said, straightening his robes and settling back into professional mode. “You have fun with your exercise, but leave me out of it.”

A-Jue escorted him back to his office first, conscientious as always.

Once he was gone, Meng Yao rang a certain bell and summoned Sisi, whose freedom was probably the best investment he’d ever made – she’d merged into the palace staff without leaving so much as a trace behind, acting as though the other girls were her sisters and she’d been there forever, and she was more than willing to report on everything she learned.

Also, she’d retained enough of her looks that everyone thought that Meng Yao only summoned her for sex, making A-Jue’s occasional disappearances for training purposes the perfect time for Meng Yao to meet with her without suspicion – he’d given up most of his paranoia surrounding A-Jue, but that was no reason to share all of his tricks.

Besides, he wasn’t sure he actually wanted A-Jue and Sisi to meet.

“When you’re done fucking him, can you share?” Sisi asked after she put down the tray of snacks – buns and a pot of tea, all of which she sampled before his eyes in the name of sharing food. “Man like that deserves to be common property.”

“I’m not whoring him out,” Meng Yao said, a warning in his tone, and Sisi sighed dramatically.

“Tell me you’re at least having a good time with all those muscles,” she said. “Someone ought to be.”

Meng Yao rolled his eyes.

“Where’s the trouble coming from this time?” he asked, deciding to elide the issue entirely. “I keep hearing whispers and people look nervous, the way they do before some sort of trouble, but neither gentry nor merchant class seem to have produced anything out of the ordinary, and I can’t imagine it’s the farmers again after last time.”

“You’re looking out, you should be looking in,” she said.

“The Emperor’s court?”

That could be a serious problem. Any political turmoil that happened within the Nightless City would have ramifications well beyond it.

“His harem,” Sisi said, her face alight with the pleasure of gossip. “Word’s come back from the south – turns out that the Emperor took one of the Imperial Consorts with him for his trip.”

Even Meng Yao’s eyebrows raised.

“And with the Empress in seclusion, well…”

It wasn’t as though the Empress had a strong maternal family as a backing – no one even knew what her surname was – but she’d been there for years and years, practically part of the décor. Replacing her with one of the Consorts would be…a change.

The Nightless City hated change.

“Could you ask to see her?” Sisi asked. “Just as proof of life…”

“I could,” Meng Yao said, because technically he had authority over everyone, “but I won’t. Why would I invite trouble for myself? I’d have to explain to the Emperor why I interfered with his harem.”

“Good point,” Sisi said, although she looked disappointed.

“Which Consort?”

“The rumor says A-Sang,” she said. “The one that likes to carry scholarly fans.”

“A-Sang? Really?”

“I know! We all thought that the Emperor didn’t even like A-Sang – everyone agrees that A-Sang never got any imperial visits before this; the Emperor never spent a night in A-Sang’s rooms, never even shared a meal, nothing. But why else would he take A-Sang with him on a months-long journey?”

Why indeed. The Emperor remained as unfathomable as ever. Meng Yao wondered briefly if Wen Ruohan really had murdered the Empress in her seclusion, faking her presence with a note…still, it seemed implausible. Why would he bother?

“I heard a rumor once,” he said instead. “About A-Sang.”

Like all good spies and shit-stirrers, Sisi was immediately at full attention – she knew that Meng Yao was not inclined to gossip for the pleasure of it, the way she was, and therefore he would only volunteer information if he intended for her to spread it.

“A-Sang is the Empress’ family,” Meng Yao said, and Sisi’s eyes went wide. “Younger sibling.”

Younger brother, he thought, though he didn’t say anything – he didn’t actually know for sure. It was hard to tell. Wen Ruohan didn’t lock away his wives the way some men did; on the contrary, he enjoyed bringing them out for celebrations to show them off. But the Empress was invariably veiled, swathed in silks without a hint of skin showing, always seated in her chair as if she were kneeling in penance, never moving; Meng Yao, who only saw her from a distance during the celebrations, sometimes almost thought she might not have legs. In daily life, she sometimes attended the Emperor’s court, but always remained seated behind her veils and sometimes even a screen, little more than a silhouette from which, rarely, notes emerged but no voice ever did.

Naturally, if the Empress preferred to be veiled, that meant the other wives had to at least pretend to follow her lead. And that meant veils and concealing clothing, even if some of them interpreted the concept rather loosely, with sheer veils and even sheerer clothing, meant to entice – A-Sang fell somewhere in the middle of that spectrum, wearing a veil that revealed his eyes and clothing that allowed him flexibility of movement without too much restraint, and while he was slender and delicate, Meng Yao was moderately certain that he was indeed male.

Not that it mattered.

Wen Ruohan had never much cared about that.

“Amazing,” Sis breathed. “So all these years, the Emperor has been refraining from touching A-Sang out of respect for the Empress, and now the little sister wife has finally made her move…”

Meng Yao had said none of that, but it served him to muddle the waters a little, mostly to see who would try to clear it up. Not that it could be, as his information about their familial connection was accurate – gleaned from a careless comment by Wen Ruohan himself, no less – but it interested him to know who would try regardless.

“Go,” he said, and Sisi left, all but floating, and it wasn’t long before A-Jue returned, all shiny with sweat and exertion, looking incredibly fuckable.

“You worked near the harem, right?” Meng Yao asked him, mind still focused on the bubbling little scandal that he just knew would become an issue that could wreck his thus far successful regency. “Do you have any connections there?”

“Not really?” A-Jue said. “Most of the wives are scared of me.”

Typical.

“Is there something you’d like me to find out for you..?”

“No need,” Meng Yao said. He’d never met anyone less well suited to be a spy than A-Jue. “But it may be an avenue of future threats, so keep it in mind.”

“I’m not going to let anyone from the harem harm you,” A-Jue said, oddly fierce. “Not anyone. Don’t worry.”

#mdzs #meng yao #jin guangyao #nie mingjue #nieyao #my fic #my fics #good help

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primrose-path-of-dalliance · 3 years

Text

on bren and feeblemind.

(cw: lots of caleb backstory. self-explanatory, i think?)

this isn’t something i’ve talked about on my blog yet, but since the campaign has begun drawing to a close, i want to make sure i say my piece on the popular theory that bren/caleb was institutionalized because trent ikithon feebleminded him to disable him.

my piece being that it’s exceptionally unlikely he did—at least as a premeditated plan. this kind of theory also falls prey to the exact beliefs ikithon has tried to exploit in caleb.

for our mutual reference, i’ll quote the spell description of feeblemind.

FEEBLEMIND (PHB) 8th level enchantment

Casting time: 1 action Range: 150 feet Components: VSM (a handful of clay, crystal, glass, or mineral spheres) Duration: Instantaneous

You blast the mind of a creature that you can see within range, attempting to shatter its intellect and personality. The target takes 4d6 psychic damage and must make an Intelligence saving throw.

On a failed save, the creature’s Intelligence and Charisma scores become 1. The creature can’t cast spells, activate magic items, understand language, or communicate in any intelligible way. The creature can, however, identify its friends, follow them, and even protect them.

At the end of every 30 days, the creature can repeat its saving throw against this spell. If it succeeds on its saving throw, the spell ends. The spell can also be ended by Greater Restoration, Heal, or Wish.

considering the characteristics described and implied by actors other than ikithon—caleb and astrid prominently—who are not motivated to deceive on ikithon’s behalf, feeblemind is not consistent with caleb’s mental break.

fact the first: when bren broke, he became violent and spellcasted.

when astrid describes the circumstances in which he was taken to the vergessen sanatorium (e89, 1:49:30), she refers to his lashing out as “creat[ing] a lot of sparks everywhere else” and rubs at burn scars across her neck. she says that they had to subdue him because he was too dangerous. all of these statements add up to a bren who was viciously spellcasting at his friends and mentor when he broke down.

this wouldn’t have been possible if he’d been feebleminded. feeblemind explicitly prevents the affected creature from casting spells or activating magic items. in that scenario, the only thing bren would’ve been capable of is throwing hands. from him? not very dangerous at all.

how do we know astrid wasn’t lying or intentionally deceptive? because she (and eadwulf) still cares so much for caleb that she risked her life multiple times to aid him. no one who would give caleb a map to a secret volstrucker vault with her own handwriting on it (e127, 29:29; and 30:57)—or intentionally fail to counterspell him when ikithon could’ve seen her do so—would lie to caleb about ikithon attempting to permanently feeblemind him if she knew.

to preempt the idea that astrid had set the m9 up: it’s very obvious she didn’t, since trent ikithon had clearly had no forewarning of a break-in. he would’ve at least been waiting in the vault, already prepared to subdue them quickly, if he’d known.

so it’s fair to determine that astrid would either be honest to the extent of her knowledge to caleb or make it clear that she couldn’t answer him. since she didn’t imply the latter, we can assume she was being honest. and because of astrid’s competence, it’s highly probable she would’ve noticed if his behavior was symptomatic of feeblemind over the years.

fact the second: bren’s mental condition repeatedly improved and regressed while he was institutionalized.

astrid states this in the same conversation about their subduing him after his breakdown (e89, 1:50:50). considering this with the context of their romantic relationship prior to his breakdown, her genuine care for him, and her rise to power that included accompanying ikithon frequently to the sanatorium (e127, 31:07)—astrid would’ve had the motivation and the opportunities to visit bren in person. she could’ve also kept well-abreast of his condition.

actual times of improvement and decline in the mental state that astrid first observed during his breakdown wouldn’t be consistent with feeblemind. although it reduces the victim’s intelligence score to 1, they still retain thought and their sense of identity without problems.

this is a maintenance of consistency and (relative) reason. feeblemind does not actually damage a person’s basic perception of reality. but the health of bren’s behavior throughout the years was instead very unstable.

fact the third: caleb doesn’t remember anything from the burning of his home up to his healing by the unknown cleric.

in the conversation with astrid in e89, he asks her what happened when he broke and explicitly says, “the last thing i remember is my home” (1:46:58). when he first tells beau and nott about his past, he explains that he doesn’t remember much of what happened to him there (e18, 2:51:54).

beyond the reduction to their intelligence, feeblemind doesn’t affect the victim’s ability to form memories. caleb’s keen mind feat and established narrative element of his eidetic memory would’ve still been present as well. therefore, feeblemind alone can’t explain such a significant, near-empty gap in his memory. he would still remember something.

even the possibility of trent ikithon altering them directly is precluded by the fact that the cleric’s healing removed the alterations to caleb’s memory. if all those years had been magically blocked away, they’d have returned when he was healed of everything else.

fact the fourth: sometimes, people really do just break.

nothing about caleb’s backstory is inconsistent with just... being a person living their life, even a terrible one. he was a young man that believed so zealously in his country and his purpose, abused by a powerful older man, that he did many horrible things and believed they were right. until finally he did something that he couldn’t process and broke down.

there’s two reoccurring, underlying assumptions i’ve noticed behind why this theory seems to be so compelling and popular:

caleb just seems so remorseful and traumatized by his double patricide. there’s no way he would’ve willingly murdered his parents. ikithon must have known and decided to preempt his inevitable betrayal.

everything we know about bren, especially from the horse’s own mouth, suggests that he had been willing (at least up until his mental break) to murder his parents. he was literally an extreme nationalist—a fascist, if you will. he was lawful evil (twitter source). he gratefully executed many “criminals” put in front of him, more than likely by burning them to death based on his ptsd. victims whom we now understand may not have been guilty of anything at all.

he was glad to do what he thought was best for the dwendalian empire, and he truly thought being volstrucker was the correct path. trent ikithon, his abuser, treated him as his favorite (e110, 3:30:58). because he believed.

that fervent faith, in fact, is the key to something like his breakdown in the first place. hearing the dying screams of his parents, bren was forced to confront a violent dissonance between his radical beliefs that condemned traitors (as he believed until the cleric’s healing) and the intuitive horror of murdering his parents that he couldn’t reconcile. this fathomless sense of betrayal is why caleb so deeply despised ikithon and himself.

a young evocation wizard who didn’t want his parents dead would’ve run into that burning house, feebleminded or not. someone magically compelled to set that fire would’ve understood what happened as soon as the charm left him and would definitely remember every detail once the cleric healed him.

caleb is remorseful and traumatized because he willingly murdered his parents. as well as many others.

it can’t be that simple. caleb was institutionalized for eleven years just because his abuser pushed him too far? there must be a more nefarious reason. ikithon even said he basically stored him for later.

putting aside the fact that bren having a breakdown in the way he did makes complete sense for his situation, ikithon’s “claim” that he orchestrated all of caleb’s subsequent years is not only something he never actually says (e110, 3:16:34)—it is a claim that’s patently absurd.

i’ve written meta that discusses this in the past (link here). essentially though, the number of moving pieces and assumptions that would be needed for such a series of events is ridiculously improbable. even assuming that ikithon feebleminded him—so that caleb’s mind would be intact when he ‘woke up’—even assuming that ikithon somehow procured the service of a cleric of the archeart—a banned deity in the empire that would oppose ikithon...

why in the world would he ever reasonably believe that caleb widogast, the man he viciously betrayed and lied to and abused, would do anything to benefit ikithon?

trent ikithon is a mortal man. he has power, yes; enchantment magic, authority, and a history of abuse and manipulation over caleb’s head, yes. but ikithon is a mortal man. not a puppeteer in the sky piloting people’s bodies.

he certainly wouldn’t have led caleb to a whole new family that would change everything about his life for the better. a family that would love him, truly—a family that would help him heal, bear the weight of his guilt, and find a real future waiting for him again instead of a self-destructive end. a family that would fight tooth and nail for caleb’s sake against ikithon.

abusers lie. their biggest lie, the one they always circle back to in the end, is that their victim is unique: that there is something which makes them deserving of abuse, and that their abuser is both right and inescapable.

ikithon is read as honest because he chooses his words carefully and has the self-confidence to believe it. everything he’s claimed about caleb and his past have either been implications that he encouraged others to reach for him or platitudes empty of everything except gaslighting intent.

caleb has escaped. and everything ikithon wants is to convince caleb and his friends that he continues to control caleb’s life, that caleb is special, so he can regain some influence over a man who’s come to command so much power.

the idea that caleb must’ve been feebleminded—that he couldn’t have just had a mental breakdown like so many other prospective volstrucker before miraculously, then strenuously, recovering to create a hopeful future for himself—falls into the trap of validating ikithon’s lies.

trent ikithon didn’t see and believe in caleb’s ‘full potential’ before anyone else did. he didn’t foresee a single ounce of the man’s struggle to put himself back together after what he suffered. caleb was not institutionalized to serve as a toy to one day pull back out of the closet. there was no feeblemind or other secretive plan that could only serve to obfuscate the brutal truth:

ikithon abused a boy until he shattered, and tried to hide the evidence. a crime that he’s committed against countless other children. plain and simple.

so that’s my piece.

caleb widogast—bren ermendrud—was not the victim of a premeditated feeblemind from ikithon, based on the mechanics of the spell. even more importantly, the narrative of his and ikithon’s stories would suffer if he was.

now,

A LOGICAL POSSIBILITY I WON’T DENY.

what if ikithon feebleminded him as a method to subdue him after the breakdown?

this is more or less an alternate theory that’s irrelevant to the points i actually wanted to make. but i want to talk about it anyway because it’s kind of fun.

fact the bonus: bren spent eleven years in the sanatorium.

eleven years is a long time. he would’ve been able to save every 30 days after the initial failed save. the exandrian calendar has about eleven 30-day periods every year. assuming a feeblemind spell cast on him just prior to his institutionalization, that’s somewhere around 121 possible save attempts, give or take a few.

what’s the likelihood of him actually saving? to go through the mechanics:

normally, feeblemind reduces a person’s intelligence score to 1, modifier -5. caleb, as a variant human, possessed the feat keen mind from the beginning both mechanically and story-wise. this would make his intelligence score 2, modifier -4, even after feeblemind.

as a level 1-2 wizard, he would’ve had proficiency in intelligence saves. this would be +2 to his save.

in total, the modifier to bren’s intelligence saves would be -2.

in order to cast feeblemind, trent ikithon would have to have been a minimum level 15 wizard. this leaves two possible proficiency bonuses to determine his spell save dc: +5 or +6.

it’s probably safe to assume that his intelligence score is at least 18–20, likely 20. this would be a modifier of +4 or +5. (his intelligence could be 22+ if matt wanted to be a real dick, but let’s assume otherwise.)

spell save dc = 8 + spellcasting score mod (for wizards, this is intelligence) + proficiency bonus.

this means trent ikithon’s possible spell save dc is somewhere from 17–19.

therefore:

at minimum—17 being ikithon as a level 15–16 wizard with an intelligence score of 18–19 at the time of casting—bren would have to roll a 19 or nat 20 to make the save with his -2 save modifier.

at a dc of 18—ikithon either being level 17–20 or having an intelligence score of 20, but not both—bren would have to roll a nat 20.

at a dc of 19(+), it would be impossible for bren to save without additional bonuses such as bless.

i don’t have the brainpower to calculate some real statistical probabilities, but depending on your opinion of trent ikithon’s probable capabilities at the time of bren’s mental break, he may have been able to save against feeblemind sometime during the eleven years he spent at the sanatorium.

naturally, this has the earlier-mentioned conundrum of remembering that return of clarity once he was healed by the cleric, should ikithon have been retrieved to recast the feeblemind and altered his memories. nevertheless, it may or may not be a fun thought to play around with.

#caleb widogast #trent ikithon #blumendrei #cr #cr meta #critical role #critical role meta #critrole #bren aldric ermendrud #bren ermendrud #abuse cw #mental institution cw #prim post #prim says some things #long post

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raleighcarrera · 3 years

Text

scorch

the wayhaven chronicles | mason x mc (kira langford)

the power goes out. things go bump in the night.

for @hotwayhavensummer day 5 (temperature) 💕

tags: @zigtheeortega ; @choicesarehard ; @brightpinkpeppercorn ; @montjoy ; @octobereighth ; @pixeljazzy

~2.8k words | E (18+)

the first thing she’s aware of is how blisteringly hot it is in her bedroom. mason’s arm slung over her bare waist feels like she’s leaning it against the stove, and there’s sweat pooling at the small of her back where she’s kicked the sheets off to the floor.

the second thing she’s aware of is mason’s nose, which is pressed firmly into the back of her neck, and the low, pleased rumble deep in his chest when he asks, “why does it feel so nice in here?”

then she realizes what’s making him so happy: the room is shrouded in darkness, completely pitch black. even the tiny digital clock on her television isn’t blinking.

kira groans, shrugging her boyfriend off where he’s hanging over her back like a ton of bricks. “the power is out.”

mason falls back against the mattress heavily -- so heavily she knows he’s doing it on purpose, like a dick, because she can’t even push him an inch when he doesn’t want to be moved -- sighing up at the ceiling. “again? what is that, the twelfth time this month?”

“third,” she corrects absentmindedly, sitting up until the sheets fall limply around her waist. god, she is sweating. “i hope it’s not citywide this time.”

it’s been an unseasonably hot summer in wayhaven. the rolling blackouts have been ridiculous, and even when the electric company has managed to keep her power on, she’s still spent many nights listening to her air conditioning units splutter as they struggled to keep her apartment cool against the climbing temperatures and stifling humidity outside.

during the last blackout, she’d spent a week responding to bullshit calls all over the city until the lights had finally come back on; mrs. braverson on spruce street had bumped into a bookshelf and twisted her ankle, the smythe’s over by the park realized their ‘missing’ cat had been up in the attic all along.

so that was something she wasn’t exactly keen on repeating.

“shouldn’t they be better at this?” mason asks, the angle of his face illuminating briefly as the lighter in his hand flicks to ignite the cigarette balanced between his lips. “it doesn’t seem that complicated to me.”

kira elbows him in the arm with a huff. “window --” she starts to direct, but he’s already rolling out of bed, walking naked to said window and shoving it up to lean his head outside. her eyes slide down his bare back and come to rest on mason’s ass, now barely able to be made out through the darkness with the moonlight coming in from the curtain he’s shoved aside. “you’re shameless,” she laughs. “if that nosy old lady across the way gets even a glimpse of your dick, she’s going to have a heart attack.”

“i’m willing to go back to smoking in bed at any time.” mason’s voice filters over his shoulder low and lazily, the words a slow rumble that make her sigh when she sits up to peel the tiny cotton bralette she’d been wearing off.

dropping the damp fabric on the floor by the bed, her underwear’s quick to follow, and she kicks at the sheets until they pool by her feet. “not gonna happen.”

mason twists around to stare at her, barely visible through the darkness except for the glowing butt of the cigarette between his lips, which part in an appreciative smirk until she can see a row of straight, grinning teeth. the expression on his face says plenty without him even opening his mouth.

kira rolls her eyes. “what time is it?”

“fuck if i know,” mason responds, leaning out the window to blow smoke into the air.

she rubs at her eyes, then, with great effort, leans over to grope for her cell phone on the floor by the bed.

“up a bit,” mason remarks unhelpfully from across the room, and even as she pushes onto her knees, wiggling for his benefit, she twists her arm around to flip him the bird while she searches.

his laugh makes her smile to herself as the screen of her phone lights up, half under the bed. 3:23 AM.

kira groans, shifting to stretch back out on the mattress again. “i have to get up in two hours.”

mason flicks his fingers and what’s left of his cigarette drops to the street below. his elbow braces on the wall beside his head. “no point in going back to sleep, then.”

his eyebrows arch invitingly. the look on his face is one she’d recognize anytime, anywhere.

he makes it often enough.

but she laughs, and then he smiles back at her, and her chest feels as warm as the rest of her, but not in the sticky, sweaty gross way -- more in the once unfamiliar but rapidly becoming routine way, the way that’s distinctly mason-shaped.

in the blink of an eye, he’s back in bed with her, the springs under her mattress creaking when he pounces, holding himself carefully over her body.

his skin is blazing, and even with the window left open it’s still uncomfortably warm in the room; she twists futilely under mason’s chest to try to tie her long hair up with the elastic on her wrist while his hands slide down the curves of her waist to her thighs.

“hang on,” she says, through a laugh that’s interrupted by a hitching breath when his hands make their way between her legs, pushing them apart slowly. ��it is literally so hot, my hair --”

“who knew you were so delicate,” he snorts, thumbs digging into the insides of her thighs as he nudges her legs wider and wider, “mason, my hair, mason, the smoke, mason, it’s hot.”

“shut the fuck up,” kira snarks back, finally twisting her hair into a ponytail and securing it out of her face, reaching out to fan her fingers over his shoulders as soon as they’re free. “you’re the last one who should be calling anyone else delicate, mr. it’s-too-bright-in-here, everyone-we-know-is-too-loud, the-food-at-the-bakery-smells-too-good.”

mason’s head ducks, and the stubble on his chin scrapes across her hip. “fine,” he smirks, “we’re both annoying, is that what you want to hear?”

“doesn’t hurt,” she murmurs, lifting one hand to his hair to push her fingers through. “anyway, since you’re down there...”

“but i’m the shameless one.” mason’s eyes raise to look up at her, and kira pushes onto her elbows to commit the sight of him to memory, even though the position is one they’ve been in plenty, before.

it’s not exactly something she’ll ever be tired of.

she smirks, nudging his forehead down. mason goes, with only a laugh under his breath, his cheek giving a slow drag of sandpaper across the inside of her thigh when he moves. kira shivers despite the heat in the room and instantly regrets it -- she can practically feel mason’s smug smile even as he lowers his head.

just as she opens her mouth to tell him off, she can feel his thumbs dip between her thighs, another chuckle ghosting over her in an exhale when he finds her wet. “sweet dreams, i guess?”

her foot kicks out blindly in retaliation, colliding solidly with something that might be mason’s thigh or side or back. his hand wraps around her knee, pinning it flat to the mattress. “c’mon, sweetheart,” he cajoles, “play nice.”

“you’re a bastard,” she returns, not helping her case much.

as expected, mason pulls back until she can see the flash of his eyes and the crooked tilt of his indulgent smile. “that so?” he drawls, the words slow and syrupy-sweet where they’re dragged out between her legs. “want me to let you get back to sleep, then?”

kira can feel her face pull into something that she means to be a scowl but is certain comes across as more of a pout. “nothing is ever easy with you,” she complains, squirming a little on the sheets where they’re bunched up under her, still admittedly sweaty from the lack of air conditioning. “i have to beg you every time i want you to --”

“oh my god, alright,” mason laughs, cutting her off with a shake of his head. his own hair is damp where he lifts his free hand to swipe it out of his eyes. “jesus christ, i forgot how cranky you get without your eight hours.”

with that, he lowers his head again, and she sighs at the first brush of his tongue against her, her back arching up off the bed. the sheets stick to her skin and come with her before slowly falling back to the mattress so she can ball a fist in them.

mason’s touch is teasing, featherlight and gentle. kira resists the urge to roll her eyes; they both know it’s not out of any innate goodness he has, but rather an arrogance he’s always possessed, a deep-seated knowledge that he can elicit a reaction from her that leaves her screaming the walls down and thrashing in bed.

asshole.

her legs spread wider on the mattress and mason’s hands immediately move to hold her still, his strength as thrilling as ever even while his palms blaze hot on her thighs, burning her skin.

kira can hear herself moan, unnaturally loud in the otherwise silent stillness of the room. mason is quiet where he’s kneeling before her, and, other than the sound of her breathing, there’s only mild shifting in the sheets that’s interrupted by the way she breathlessly groans out a curse of his name.

but it’s obviously what he’s been waiting for; mason redoubles his efforts and his face disappears from view entirely, the bridge of his nose brushing over where she’s sensitive and wet so his tongue can push deeper, a warning graze of teeth and stubble replaced by the pillowy softness of his lips on her clit before she can do much more than jerk her hips back with a gasp.

“fuck,” she says emphatically, her eyes screwing shut tight. the entire room is hazy and warm around her, blood rushing in her ears. mason’s movements are the opposite of a distraction from the stifling heat of the room -- the fire of his mouth and the brand of his fingertips digging into her skin feels like it’s burning her alive from the inside out, but she’s helpless to do anything other than give herself over to it, her heels digging into mason’s back where her legs have wound around him.

his fingers dip in to bring her effortlessly to an edge, the combination of the practiced movements of his mouth combined with the blunt nudge of his knuckles leaving her trembling against him, one hand tight in his hair while the other pulls the sheets out of shape.

the apartment, and wayhaven, in the middle of the night, continue to embarrass her with their silence. her hips thrash in his hold while her moans grow louder and louder, until she’s just there -- just enough for mason to pull back with an eyebrow quirked curiously.

“please,” she begs immediately, both knowing it’s what he wants to hear and desperate for the push over the edge he’s withholding.

a sliver of light from the moon through the window reflects off his face where it’s obscenely shiny on his chin and cheeks. mason lifts his head and grins sharply at her, his eyes knowing. “please what, sweetheart?”

“please finish,” kira gasps, “i’m so close, i need you to -- please, mason.”

something about the late hour has evidently made him feel generous. if she had a better grasp on her remaining brain function she might make a note to do this more often -- she knows he spends much of the time she’s asleep simply staring at the ceiling beside her or pacing the length of the apartment -- but, as it is, she can do little more than hold on while he methodically takes her apart in just the way she’d been hoping for.

her ears ring when she comes, breath hitching in the darkness before her head tips back with a moan, his name on her lips in a garbled sound that transforms into a too-loud-for-this-hour fuck that ultimately finishes on a slow, content sigh.

her body is still dripping with sweat, and mason looks so messy himself, when he pushes up onto his forearms, that she wonders what a sight she must be. she can feel her face grow impossibly warmer at the thought.

kira stares at him as he sucks his own fingers into his mouth slowly, licking his lips lasciviously when he’s done. what a strange person, she thinks, and then, when her heart gives a funny little twist at the look on his face, thumping extra fast in her chest, she realizes it’s something they have in common.

“alright?” mason asks quietly, shaking his hair out of his eyes.

she nods, reaching out for him clumsily. there’s a softness in his gaze as he shifts to move closer, and the smile playing at his lips makes the scorching heat consuming her settle into something more akin to the dull warmth she usually feels when mason’s around.

one big hand moves the sloppy strands of hair spilling from her ponytail out of her face none-too gently, lips suddenly claiming hers in an overager, biting kiss. kira can taste herself on his tongue and realizes it’s impossible to be anything but pleased when she considers how tightly mason is holding her.

she still fights him, playfully, because she’ll probably never stop, and they roll around on the bed until finally resting at the very edge of the mattress, mason spooned up tightly behind her while his arms snake around her torso.

his breath is hotter than the rest of the room at the base of her throat, his lips dragging along the juncture that leads to her shoulder. kira tilts her head back against him, relaxing in his hold.

he’s hard when he presses his hips against her ass, rocking forward deliberately.

“what time is it now?” she asks lazily, thoughts drifting to the day ahead of her. there were sure to be plenty of annoyances waiting for her when she finally made it to the station. at this rate, she was sure to be late.

“four?” mason guesses, the word a low grunt against the back of her neck. “plenty of time before your alarm.”

she nods, stretching out as best as she can with the way he’s draped around her again, their positions a perfect mirror of the way she’d woken up. her back arches, and the low, pained noise mason makes under his breath when she shifts against him re-energizes her completely, leaving her grinning into the darkness of her bedroom.

“yeah,” kira hums, reaching back around over her shoulder to pet at mason’s hair. “can we at least move into the shower, though? i’m going to pass out if i don’t cool off.”

mason heaves a long, self-suffering sigh. she purses her lips to hold back a laugh, tapping her fingers onto his bicep while she waits for him to come around.

it doesn’t take too long.

“fine,” he mutters, “only because i don’t want to deal with felix if you get heatstroke.”

“i don’t think you can actually get heatstroke out of the sun,” she returns, leaning forward to press a brief kiss to the damp skin of mason’s wrist. his fingertips trail tenderly over her cheek when she pulls away. “but thanks.”

the mattress bounces when he jumps to his feet. his dick swings with the movement and kira snorts as she moves to follow him, barely balanced on the floor before her boyfriend hoists her into his arms to carry her blindly through the dark apartment.

“jesus,” kira laughs, grabbing onto his arm for purchase while their sweaty skin slides together, “warn a girl, next time.”

“now you’re asking for too much.” her ass hits the bathroom counter and she squints through the vaguely distinguishable shadows in the room, barely able to make out mason starting the water in her shower.

she jumps at the sudden sound of his voice, low near her ear. “come here,” he says, hands guiding her down and across the few steps on the tile it’ll take to cross the room. “i’ve got you.”

the words are soothing -- nearly as soothing as the water that patters down onto her flushed skin when they both step inside the shower stall, soaking her through.

it’s a relief to let her hair down and have it pushed out of the way by the spray -- a relief to finally feel cool again, a relief to actually shiver when the water gets too cold.

a relief, because the kisses that trail across her back, down her neck and over her arms again and again and again, keep her perfectly warm while the two of them work together to fight the new chill and steam up the room.

#the wayhaven chronicles #twc mason #mason twc #mason x detective #myfic #long post #ns*w #hotwayhavensummer

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mensajeroseis · 3 years

Note

basically the ncr were a bunch of classist hypocrites. there's a police officer on every corner, their constitution says they outlaw slavery, but there's a slaving operation a few feet away from their entrance that they refuse to deal with, they hire actual mafia to continue their violent, imperialistic expansion to the north in order to secure Vault City's medical tech (a city that heavily relies on slavery!!!). THEY HAVE A FUCKING FOREVER PRESIDENT. Its a pure mess. Also their court system is entirely biased. I haven't explored a lot of it, but it's a lot.

I've played the first third of Fallout 2, so I am familiar with Vault City's ordeal and the general intention of NCR aggrandizement. Which is why I refer to both battles of hoover dam and their expansion into the Mojave in fnv "Manifest Destiny 2" lol My view of how the NCR operates is this : their lack of care outside of the state isn't surprising. An imperialistic government always seeks to have advantages, so if they consider it worthy or it doesn't interfere with their goal than really it's not on their radar to manage or have responsibility for, unless citizens protest them into feigning concern. Since they're replicating their idea of pre-war democracy. Which is more so meant to critique general bureaucracy of our day and age, rather than fallout's pre-war government. They implement tactics that have been used in both in domestic and foreign policy before by the FBI and CIA, for the purposes of manipulating situations to benefit etc. It's a dog eat dog situation.

And in regards to Vault City, they clearly wanted to be their own imperialistic state. They're of course more blatantly sinister and xenophobic and selfish. They're a true mixed creation of an autocratic oligarchy. They're unpalatable, which is good for storytelling. And it's shown as weakness, because of Tandi's "peaceful expansions" already on the way during fo2, and her communications + connections as a leader, the NCR had the upper hand on them the entire time. Tandi is actually a really interesting situation and anomaly within the government. She's complex because they show her contradictions as a politician against her ideals for the NCR. She's not an awful person inherently, but like with the case of Vault City she's not above shady (sands lol) deals so she can get the outcome she believes is best for the wasteland. Despite that contradiction, her legacy is largely positive and she's the most popular president among the NCR's citizens even after her death. and imo, she promulgated a lot of egalitarian laws and restrictions (irt lobbying.) Her presidency isn't fueled by an oligarchy and more so genuine civilian support, at least it seems so to me (unlike Kimball LMFAOOO), and the familial presidency line stops after her. A forever president makes democracy moot of course though, so it's hard to describe what the NCR is during 2169-2248. But it's certainly not totalitarian. Maybe like a mock monarchy (like caesar says LOL). But again since it's still an imperialistic state, there's always inherently going to be issues of classism, unlawful enforcement, and internal power struggles no matter how beloved a leader is. admittedly even though i know how awful it is, scientology existing in a post apocalypse world is so ridiculous to a point of it being funny to me. I'm unfamiliar of it being involved in fallout, and the only thing that comes to mind is hubologists in Nuka World so I am interested in where that comes from

#i did not mean to write a mini essay of my interpretations of the NCR LMFAOOJFKDJGNSDKJFNDS

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inviberu · 3 years

Text

til death do us part

Shino thought it was easier to say it in his own words instead of the ones that were put into his mouth forcefully by some other wizards.

There wasn’t a day in his life where Shino felt himself become this troubled—save for that one time he had a realization dawn to him which was heavily related to his worry about not being able to stay by Heath’s side if he wasn’t powerful enough—and frankly put it, he hadn’t pushed away the idea of asking his fellow wizards just yet even after many failures. First, he tried asking Heath for help. Though it ended quickly with Heath clutching his stomach, trying to suppress his laughter and Shino walking away out of annoyance.

Second attempt was with Nero and Faust who were enjoying an afternoon together out in the courtyard much to Shino’s surprise. When Shino asked them for help, Faust was surprised beyond belief before letting out a tired sigh and Nero merely looked as if he’s a mom that’s given up with her child’s ridiculous antics—that didn’t mean he didn’t find whatever he was asking for a tiny bit hilarious though. Shino, upset, walked away from the scene as well when he found out that the two old men did nothing to assist him with his quest.

Third attempt was when he bumped into the ancient Northern twins in the hallway when they were on their way to their room from the lobby. He asked them a seemingly simple question and yet they went off on a tangent for an answer, which Shino found extremely boring and unhelpful so he just walked away in the end without hearing the end of it. Snow and White got a bit upset with him for walking away just like that, especially after they switched to their adult form just to answer his unusual question.

Fourth attempt was his most successful one by far, which was with Shylock. Shino looked for him inside his bar and asked him for help, to which Shylock happily indulged him and gave him an answer that sort of satisfied Shino. Although he was still a bit hesitant, he decided to go with Shylock’s answer for the final thing he’s working on—not noticing the underlying tone of deviousness in his smile. Shino ought to remember, Western wizards loved a good show, and Shylock was the epitome of a Western wizard.

Shino felt his nervousness wash away and instead got replaced by an enormous amount of confidence that seemed unfitting for someone of his stature—short and small. His hair was slicked back and he was dressed in formal attire from head to toe in contrast to his everyday look where he was definitely more casual. Shino, himself, did not know what exactly he was doing but he decided to go through with it anyway since it was Shylock’s advice. And he knew that Shylock was way better than him when it came to matters such as this.

A proposal to you—is what he was planning.

He panicked a little bit after realizing he had no expertise in that area and that he just really wanted to marry you, terribly so. When he asked Heath for help, he almost sent the young lord rolling across the stairs out of laughter. Heath found it ridiculous—hilarious, even. Shino took it as a sign to leave Heath alone as he was of no help at all. Nero and Faust just sighed at him when he asked them how to propose to someone, telling him he should just be himself. Which Shino paid little attention to, thinking that it was fruitless advice from a bunch of old geezers. The twins were more than happy to help but they started sputtering out gibberish not long after. Shino concluded that those womanizers would be of no help.

Shylock, though, gave him a bit of solid advice. Which he followed and leads us to where Shino is today. Dolled up and with a bouquet of flowers in his hands, it was out of character for him. Anyone could tell that much but when you caught sight of him waiting for you outside, you decided to give him the benefit of doubt. Though when you approached him, there was a little bit of a problem. He was speaking weirdly, very unlike the Shino you came to know and love. Though it wasn’t necessarily a bad kind of weird, it was leaning more so on the funnier side. He cleared his throat.

“O beloved of mine, won’t you grant me a few minutes of your time? You see… I’ve been thinking—” Before he could finish, you couldn’t let out a chuckle. One that Shino couldn’t let go off easily. A simple chuckle was enough for him to feel the embarrassment rush to his face and wondered if in your eyes, he was just a fool not worthy to be taken seriously.

“Shino, why are you talking that way-?”

“Forget it,” he reverted back to his old self. His usual rudeness surfaced when his mind suddenly started taking a turn for the worse. “It’s nothing important anyways.”

Before you could let out another word, he summoned his broom and quickly fled from your sight, where you may never see the look on his face as he suddenly felt regretful. You couldn’t tell what exactly just happened but you knew this much—you felt as if you’ve done something to make him feel bad.

A figure in the air, riding on a broom, let out a puff of smoke after taking a drag from his pipe. An amused expression settling on his face mixed with a little bit of a troubled one, as if he just saw his favourite show getting cancelled right in front of him.

“Oh dear, will we be seeing the finale tonight? Or will the show simply stop here? Maybe a little push is due to apologize to dear Shino.”

You wondered if you did something to severely upset Shino, it wasn’t as if you’d never gotten into any arguments with him but this time you’ve done little to nothing at all! You considered if he got upset after your chuckle—which you thought was harmless—but the more you think about it, the more plausible it seemed. But why would he get hurt over something like that? It looked as if he was playing a silly prank on you. Unless… That wasn’t a prank at all and he had something serious to say to you.

The longer you realized, the more terrible you felt during the dead hours of the night. You paced back and forth in your room, wondering if Shino is awake or in his room right now because there was nothing more you wanted than to immediately rush to him and apologize. He must’ve felt horrible, and you only realized it now.

Making up your mind, you grabbed your coat and made your way to your door to go to his room until you heard a loud thud near your room window. There was only one person that would knock on your window during this time of the night—Shino! You quickly turned around and expected the Eastern wizard to greet you, and you were right this time. His hair went back to its usual messy look and his formal clothes were replaced with the ones he usually wears everyday.

And there were still a handful of hand picked flowers in his hand—your favourite this time, roses. You immediately rushed towards the window and slid it open, your hands outstretched towards the scenery and the cold yet gentle breeze that caressed your face. Before you knew it, Shino let go of his broom and threw himself into your arms, the strands of his hair brushing against your cheeks and his arms wrapped tightly around your torso with his head placed atop your shoulder to hide his embarrassingly red face. The flowers he was holding almost falling to the floor with how loose his grip suddenly grew.

Without hesitation, you wrapped your arms around him and opened your mouth to apologize before he could say anything: “I’m sorry!”

But as if he couldn’t hear a word you said, he pulled away and looked at you straight in the eyes. For a moment, you wondered if he was mad at you but the long hug and the blush on his cheeks was enough to tell you otherwise. You felt yourself growing more embarrassed as well when he suddenly shoved the flowers towards you. Before you could open your mouth to ask, he suddenly blurted out:

“I want to eat the pie you make for the rest of my life.” Your eyes widened, and you felt yourself wanting to laugh again. You looked away, shoulders trembling.

“... You’re laughing again,” he pouted. You shook your head, tears almost falling from the corner of your eyes.

“No, no. It’s just that I thought saying something like that felt super fitting for someone like you.” You paused to calm down, clutching the flowers he gave you close to your chest. “Will you still want to eat the pie I make even if it’s burnt?”

“Then I’ll just have to make sure you don’t burn it,” Shino shot you a gentle smile. Under the moonlight, you wondered if your eyes were just playing tricks on you and this was all just a sweet spell someone cast over you. Though, there was no use in denying the fact that Shino’s sweet and genuine smile illuminated by the moonlight was something you want to etch into your memories for centuries to come.

“As much as I want to say yes, isn’t it a bit too early for us?”

“I don’t think so, no? I’m not going to wait for your answer for more years when I already know you’re going to say yes to me in the end. So why not just agree now?”

“Wow, you already think that my answer will stay the same for the years to come.”

“I don’t just think so. I know it, I know you the best. You can’t resist my charm now, and you still won’t be able to in the future.” He took hold of your chin and leaned dangerously close, to the point where you could feel his breathing close to you. You closed your eyes, expecting him to kiss you but was met with laughter instead.

“Pfft-! Did you really think I was going to kiss you?” He let out a chuckle, “consider this as revenge for laughing at me earlier.”

“H-Hey! I was not expecting anything at all, and I didn’t laugh at you. I just chuckled, that's all!” You quickly got defensive, not wanting to admit you were expecting him to kiss you.

“Are you sure?” His tone was smug and teasing, something you loved about him no matter how infuriating it is. “You still haven’t answered me, by the way. Will you pledge to spend the rest of your life with me?”

“An eternity seems long… and to think I’m considering spending it with you, of all people.”

“I know you love me.”

“Yes, yes. You already know my answer don’t you, Shino? It’s an eternity I don’t mind spending with you. Though I don’t know if Faust will allow us-!” You could barely finish your sentence when Shino crashed his lips against yours into a passionate kiss. His raw emotions coursing through him and you felt yourself getting lost in it as well, the words you held back from each other suddenly spilling like a waterfall that’s been blocked for decades through kisses. Your fingers tangled in his hair and Shino found it hard to pull back—had it not been for your need of oxygen, he would’ve never let you go.

“Let me finish my sentence first!” You exclaimed, lightly hitting his arm, breathless.

“Sorry, I got a bit excited.” He admitted like a defeated puppy but the smug look on his face made you want to smack his pretty face instead. “I just couldn’t help it when I realized that we’ll be together… til death do us part.”

Shylock took a drag from his pipe, the scent of alcohol still lingering in the air as a gentle expression took over his face, as if he accomplished something great—and he wasn’t the whole reason why a huge mess occurred in the first place.

“All’s well that ends well… Huh? I do hope dear Shino doesn’t bear a grudge against me. Eastern wizards aren’t exactly known for forgetting grudges easily.” He smiled, knowing that Shino would thank him later on. They both got what they wanted, after all. Shino and his quest for true love and Shylock with his desire for something interesting.

#mhyk #mhyk writing #my writing #promise of wizard #shino #mhyk shino #shino x reader #unedited . kinda LMAOO

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aellynera · 3 years

Text

The Best Years of Your Life (Reeves x Reader)

THE BEST YEARS OF YOUR LIFE

(hey hey, this is my other submission for @wasicskosgirl and her 800 follower celebration! and yes, you read that right - it’s REEVES. i had a lot of fun writing it and i hope you enjoy reading it! CONGRATS Amanda!!)

Word Count: um like 6200ish oops it was supposed to be a blurb

Summary: They say the best years of your life happen in high school, but what do they know?

Warnings: Some language. Female reader implied but no pronouns/description. Teenage angst. Adult wistfulness. Mostly fluffy tho. No promises about proofreading. Frog murder.

with the prompt - “Like what you see?”

It all started back in high school. Sometimes you wonder how often people say that, and if it’s really true or they’re just falsely remembering how things happened because high school is supposed to be the best four years of your life.

But in this case, it’s true. Because high school is when you met Reeves.

Sophomore Year. High School. A Friday.

It was the third day of sophomore year, fourth period on a Friday morning, your last before the lunch break. Biology class was maybe the one you were least looking forward to, not exclusively because of the required frog dissection, but pretty damn close. Gross. And you never understood why the school year didn’t just start on a Monday, but you were new here in San Diego. Maybe they just did things differently.

It was bad enough being the new kid. It was worse when you walked into class halfway through the lecture, even if it wasn’t your fault. The timing of the move was weird, and you’d spent most of the first two days, and this morning, doing placement tests and talking to your counselor.

And now you were being called out in front of the entire class.

“Ah, there you are,” your teacher announced as you walked in the door. “Everyone, this is our new student, please make them feel welcome. You can sit over there.”

Your eyes followed as she motioned to the empty seat at the lab table in the back of the room. Suddenly you weren’t sure if your face felt hot because of embarrassment or because of the boy in the other chair.

Dark, curly hair cut close on the sides but longer on the top. Deep brown eyes framed by long, long lashes. Full, plush lips curling up into his cheek on one side. A nose that, okay, maybe might be a bit oversized but for some reason worked on his handsome face and--

Well, shit. Definitely not the embarrassment.

You shuffled your way to your seat and slid into it with your head down. A few students watched you curiously but soon turned their attention back to the lesson. You tried your best to focus on what was going on, to not look to your left at the distraction next to you.

You weren’t very successful.

By now you thought you’d sneaked enough covert glances to know that we was wearing a leather jacket, had a small diamond stud earring in his left ear, a bunch of silver-studded brown suede wrap bracelets around both wrists, a silver ring on his right index finger, and oddly precise handwriting as he took notes. In between relevant facts the teacher was sharing, he was doodling tiny music notes in the margins of his notebook.

And he totally caught you looking.

“Like what you see?” he leaned over and whispered.

Your mouth felt drier than the Sahara but also somehow so moist you were afraid you might have actually drooled on yourself. You should have opened your mouth to respond but your brain refused to make the connection. Probably for the best.

At least, at first. When it finally caught up to you, the only response your brain could provide was, “Maybe?”

Now would be the perfect time for the floor to swallow you whole.

He just winked at you and his attention went back to the doodles around his notes.

You shifted your gaze back to your own notebook, but you don’t know if anything else of importance was said, and don’t remember writing anything down. The bell ringing sharply pulled you back to reality and you hastily shoved your books in your backpack, ready to escape.

Just as you were about to leave, a voice called out. “Hey, sorry about earlier. If I freaked you out or anything.”

You looked up. He was smiling at you, a little shyly. You bit your lip, your brain and mouth still refusing to connect.

He stuck his hand out. “I’m Reeves. You’re new here?”

“Um…” you smacked yourself internally. This was ridiculous, you weren’t really shy, you knew how to have a conversation, he was just introducing himself. You were going to have a serious conversation with your brain later about proper communication techniques.

It felt like hours had passed, but you finally pulled yourself together enough to respond. “Yeah. My- my dad got transferred for work, we moved here like a week ago. He literally dragged the family across the country. I’m originally from New York City.”

His eyes lit up. “Oh, cool! I always wanted to go to New York City!”

You found yourself smiling back.

“Do you...wanna sit with me at lunch?” he asked, tilting his head to the side. “Maybe you could tell me a little about the city? And...about you, since we’re gonna have to commit heinous acts of violence on an amphibian together? I’d like to know who’s wielding a scalpel next to me.”

The giggle that escaped your throat could not be contained. This boy - Reeves - was adorable. “Oh. Okay, yeah. I’d really like that.”

The Present.

Poor Lenny the Frog never stood a chance. Then again, neither did you.

To be fair, Lenny was already dead when you and Reeves got your hands on him. Well, when you got your hands on him, because for the full first half of that specific class period, Reeves refused to touch him and nearly turned as green as Lenny once was. That’s when he insisted on naming your cadaver, because somehow giving it a name made it easier to deal with.

You were pretty sure Reeves was nuts.

By the middle of sophomore year, you were dead too, but not for the same reasons.

By the middle of sophomore year, you weren’t sure how you were still alive, because every time he looked over at you and gave you a sly smile during class, gave you that look, you felt your heart go taut and you forgot how to breathe and certainly, rightfully, should have been dead.

Your friend Alexis stuck her head into your bathroom. “Hey, we’re just waiting on Vanessa, and then we’re good to go. Drinks first? The show doesn’t start until 8 so we have time.”

You glanced up from your makeup and nodded. “Yeah, that sounds good. I’ll be out in a few minutes.”

Alexis grinned. “Aaaaaah I’m so glad you agreed to go out tonight! It’s gonna be so much fun!”

“Oh, it’s gonna be something,” you muttered, going back to your eyeliner.

Alexis had been the first one to see the concert announcement about a week ago. A benefit show at one of the clubs down in Greenwich Village, some punk revival thing (for charity) with a bunch of different singers and musicians. Not normally your scene, but Alexis scanned through the names and suddenly remembered you’d known Reeves in high school. You said yes, he was in your class, and you’d been lab partners once. Vanessa squealed in excitement and Alexis announced you were going to the show. There was never any actual agreement.

Because of course Reeves was going to be there. And of course, you had to be too.

Junior Year. The Parking Lot. A Tuesday.

“I’m just saying, it was a ridiculous foul, and it should never have been called,” Reeves groused as you walked out of the gym.

“We also should have made like twenty more of our own foul shots,” you pointed out.

The Lake Howell Silverhawks had fallen to their arch-rivals in a somewhat glorious fashion. You didn’t even like basketball that much. But that didn’t really matter. The games were just an excuse to go out for burgers before and hang out with your friends during.

It was definitely an excuse to hang out with Reeves.

Junior year, you were both disappointed to find you didn’t have any classes together, but you still almost always ate lunch together. He’d come over to your house to study during the week and sometimes just to chill out on the weekends. Over the past year, he’d shown you all around the city and taken you to his favorite places. You told him all about New York, how you missed it and one day you’d go back, and all the famous sites and which ones were tourist traps that he was only allowed to visit the very first time and then never again.

You spent so much time together, even your mother liked to tease you about why he wasn’t your boyfriend.

It took a while for you to find the words to tell her it was because he was someone else’s.

As much as you liked to pretend she didn’t change anything, Randie Rustenberg changed everything. It was gradual, like a creeping vine of ivy, and she slowly took him over. There was no malice; it was just one of those things that happened. Reeves spent less time with you, his best friend, and more time with Randie, his girlfriend.

The girlfriend you desperately wished was you, because ever since that first biology class you’d had the biggest, stupidest crush on him.

Eventually you had a boyfriend of your own. Theo was a nice guy, he really was. Polite, friendly, had a good sense of humor, liked your family. And your family loved him. Your mother was so happy that you had a boyfriend, she seemed to forget to ask how Reeves was and if you’d seen him lately.

Of course you saw him. You saw him every day, in the cafeteria, at his locker, passing by in the halls. Sometimes you could find him playing the grand piano on the stage in the empty auditorium. Yes, if your mother bothered to ask, you saw Reeves all the time. Now it was just always with her.

Except this week. It was a break of sorts, no classes, just some sports and other school activities. Randie was on some trip with her parents for some kind of church function, and Theo was fishing with his dad on some lake up north. He’d told you where, but you honestly couldn’t be bothered to recall. So when a bunch of your friends and a bunch of his friends all said everyone was going to the basketball game, there was no debate.

As if there was any way you’d say no.

Sometime during the game, your friends wandered off to the snack bar and never ventured back. His friends started a game of hacky-sack under the bleachers. And you found yourself pretending to understand all the finer points about hoops strategy, cheering and yelling along with Reeves and having a great time, just like you used to.

“Where’d you park?” he asked as you left the gym and headed out into the sea of cars. You vaguely pointed in the direction of yours and he grinned. “Oh, good, I’m that way too. Come on, I’ll walk you.”

The faint glow emitted by the lampposts in the parking lot bounced off his curls and his eyes, when you could catch a glimpse, were bright beneath them.

As if there was any way you’d say no.

The walk wasn’t very far, but it felt like it was over in a second. You hadn’t said anything on the way, just soaked in the comfort of walking next to him as he kept commenting on the game.

He was waving his hands everywhere, looking at them as he talked as if his hand motions would make things make any more sense to you, in the middle of saying something about your center and how they needed to get better about blocking out when you finally spoke.

“Oh, shit.”

Reeves looked up at you. “What, you don’t agree?”

You dropped your bag on the ground and rolled your eyes. “No, my car is locked and I left my keys inside.” You pointed to the passenger seat. Your keys stared back at you derisively.

You both stared back at them for a moment, then he grinned. “Hang on, I got you.” He held up one finger and trotted off to his car, coming back a minute later with something in his hand. “This should take care of it.”

You took a step back. “Reeves? Um. Okay, why do you have a coat hanger in your car.”

He rolled his eyes back at you. “For emergencies, duh.” He quickly twisted the hanger into a hook shape and went to your passenger side window.

“And why do you know how to break into a car with said coat hanger?”

“Like I told you,” his tongue poked out between his teeth as he worked, “for emergencies. You think I haven’t locked my own keys in my car once or six times?”

“Did Randie teach you how to do this?” The words were out of your mouth before you could think. She probably had. She might have been churchy when required, but she was also responsible for about half of Reeves’s stints in detention (the other half just being him making the wrong joke at the wrong time and pissing a teacher off.)

Thank god he didn’t seem to hear you as he kept working at the lock. Finally you heard a *click* and he pumped a fist into the air with a little “yessss!”

And then you’re not really sure what happened. You bent down to pick up your bag and then you were standing up and Reeves’s face was literally about three inches away from yours and for the eight thousandth time since you’d know him, you forgot how to breathe.

Neither of you said anything for what felt like days. You just stared at each other under the dim halo of the parking lot lights.

“Here you go.” He took your hand and dropped your keys into it.

“Thanks,” you whispered.

“Like what you see?” the corners of his mouth quirked up, just the slightest little bit.

“...Maybe.”

And the staring recommenced. Were you two getting closer? Physically closer, you meant, of course you were close, you’d always been close. Well, at one time you were really close but then Randie Restenberg happened and it wasn’t fair that she got to know what those lips felt like and did he always smell this good or--

“Yo, Reeves!” A pickup truck full of guys skidded to a stop behind your car and one of his friends - Jake? Jack? you barely remembered your own name right now - stuck his head out the window. “Fight to the death ping pong tourney at Matt’s house! You in?”

Reeves bit his lip and closed his eyes for a second before he pulled back with a soft “I’m sorry” before turning to his friends. “Um, yeah, sure. Sounds brutal. I’ll meet you there.”

The pickup sped off, tires screeching out of the parking lot. Reeves turned back to you, but you’d already gotten into your now unlocked car and started the engine.

You rolled down the window a fraction and gave him a weak smile. “Hey, um. Thanks for saving my butt. Now go kick theirs at ping pong, yeah?” Your face felt so hot, and for once you were grateful for the dim lights in the lot.

“You could, um, come along if- if you want.”

“Nah, I’m...I’m tired, I’m just gonna...um, head home. But I’ll see you tomorrow maybe?”

Reeves looked like he was about to say something else, but he didn’t. He just stepped onto the curb in front of your car, smiled, and raised his hand in a little wave as he watched you drive off.

The Present.

A series of shrieks and the slamming of the door told you Vanessa had finally arrived. It sounded like they were jumping up and down on the tile just inside your front door, which was ridiculous since you’d all just seen each other the day before. But typical.

You smoothed a pinkie under your eye, checked your makeup one final time, and went into the living room.

“Oh, you look hot,” Vanessa gushed. She grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and plopped down on your couch. “Who are you trying to impress tonight?”

“Reeves, of course,” Alexis laughed, leaning on the kitchen counter. She sorted anything she might need from her big purse into a little evening bag as she talked. “You know we go to all his shows. And you know they went to high school together.”

You snorted. “That was a long time ago. I’m not even sure he’d remember me.”

Vanessa waggled her eyebrows. “You’re probably right, No offense, honey, but no one was that hot back in high school.”

He was, your brain supplied. Very helpful. You smiled wanly.

Vanessa continued. “But you were friends, right? You’ve never really talked about it. God, it must be so cool now to think that you were friends with Reeves back when he was an awkward high school teenager.”

“Reeves was never awkward,” you laugh. “It was kind of unfair.”

“But you totally had a crush on him,” Alexis offered.

Had? What do you mean, had? Oh my god, shut up, brain.

A pillow flew in your direction and you ducked as Vanessa giggled and Alexis rolled her eyes. “Come on, tell us something about him,” Vanessa goaded. “Wait. Was he, like, your prom date? That’s your secret! You totally went to prom with Reeves and you never told us!”

Senior Year. Prom. A Saturday.

The night was not supposed to go this way.

It was supposed to be limousines and corsages and dinner with dates and friends. It was supposed to be endless pictures while your mother told you how gorgeous you looked and how handsome he was and your father gave a thinly-veiled shovel talk about how he knew what happens on prom night and what would really happen if that actually happened. It was supposed to be punch and cookies and balloons. It was supposed to be dancing closer than the chaperones were comfortable with and kissing with tongue when they weren’t looking.

It was supposed to be the best night of your life. It was supposed to be fun.

Nowhere in your weeks of dreaming of this night did it involve sitting on a bench in the girls’ locker room, knees pulled up to your chest, while the party carried on in the gym just beyond.

It definitely didn’t involve crying.

The bass beats of the deejay and the harmony of laughter temporarily got louder as the locker room door opened, and then faded back into a muted thumping as the door closed again a second later. You could hear footsteps headed in your direction but before you could unfold yourself and wipe your tears away, a familiar voice called out.

“Hey, there you are!”

Being able to find the words to describe how he looked in his tux, his curls slightly tamed by some gel, the blue rose (of course it would be an off color, why would he pick something standard?) pinned to his lapel, his lopsided grin… Finding the words was nearly impossible.

Of course he would show up now. Because your night wasn’t already crappy enough and half the reason you were sitting there weeping instead of out there dancing was standing right in front of you.

You realized that wasn’t fair. It was probably more like, twenty-five percent of the reason, and it wasn’t his fault. But that didn’t make it any better.

“Why are you in the girls’ locker room, Reeves?” you sniffled.

He furrowed his eyebrows and his nose scrunched up in concern as he took in your mascara-streaked cheeks and puffy red eyes. “One of your friends said you came in here like half an hour ago and nobody’s seen you since. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“I’m fine.”

“Clearly not.” He sat down next to you. “Wanna talk about it?”

A deep, shaky sign left your chest. You didn’t really want to talk about how, earlier in the evening, you’d excused yourself to use the restroom and come back to the gym to find Theo dancing with...you didn’t remember her name, nor did you care. You didn’t mind that he was dancing with another girl, in theory, but it was another matter entirely when his hands were on her ass and she was sucking a deep purple mark into his neck. And he was laughing.

A short, vicious argument ensued in the coat room after you’d cut in and dragged him off by the elbow. And it turned out that he’d been seeing whats-her-name for months, somehow, behind your back while pretending that everything was perfect with you. When he was supposedly visiting his grandparents? He was with her. When he had to work an extra shift? He was with her. When he got off the phone with you, saying he needed to get to bed early? He was calling her.

Prom wasn’t supposed to involve a very public break-up.

And things didn’t get any better when, deciding you needed something to drink, you went back into the gym and immediately saw Reeves and Randie, dancing cheek to cheek, arms snugly wrapped around each other as a soft, romantic song wafted through the air. Because of course he was with her. She was his girlfriend and Reeves wasn’t a detestable cheating asshole.

There was always another her.

You couldn’t handle it.

So you took off to somewhere almost guaranteed to be empty. You figured the locker room wasn’t really the kind of place kids would want to make out, and you were right. It was blessedly empty. Until now.

But you couldn’t tell him the second part, so you just went with the first. His eyes got wide as you blubbered through the sordid details of Theo being a complete and utter twat. Another quivery sob half-burst from you and Reeves got up. He grabbed a few paper towels from the dispenser and handed them to you as he sat back down.

“Thanks,” you hiccuped.

“I never liked him,” Reeves announced.

You found yourself choking on a huff of air. “What? Yes you did! Everybody loved him. That’s what makes it extra shitty.”

“Did you?”

“What?”

Reeves cocked his head and looked at you with an expression you couldn’t quite place. “Did you love him?”

Your mouth opened and closed but nothing came out. Why did you always seem to forget how to make words when Reeves asked you questions?

“What?”

He shrugged. “Everyone else loved him. Did you?”

You used every last ounce of willpower you had to not jump up on that bench and shout that of course you didn’t love Theo, you idiot, because I love you.

That would not make this night any easier.

The next thing you knew, Reeves put an arm around your shoulders and pulled you into his chest, hugging you soundly. He rested his cheek on the top of your head. “Doesn’t matter. You’re better off without him.”

You dabbed at your eyes. Nope, still couldn’t make words.

Minutes, hours, days. You had no idea how long you stayed like that, pressed to him and feeling him breathe beneath you. You no longer had any idea how long it had even been since everything crashed around you and he’d come to try and help you pick up the pieces. You just listened to his heartbeat, strong and steady, as the muffled music and joyful shouts of classmates went on past the closed door.

Finally he spoke again. “Hey, you wanna get one of those complimentary pictures?”

“What?” Oh, great. You were finally able to answer his question but you could still only come up with that one word? Stupid brain.

“Well, I…” he sat up straight and, after the briefest look into your eyes, he glanced away. Was he blushing? You weren’t sure. “I always kind of...I kind of thought we’d have a prom picture together. I mean, I just figured, y’know, we’d go with a bunch of friends, but I always hoped I’d get a picture with my best friend.”

The sniffles were back in an instant. Damn him. “Reeves, I...you really want to get a picture now? I look horrible, I can’t get a picture taken like this!”

He took the paper towel from your hand and gently dabbed at your cheeks. “You couldn’t look horrible if you tried. Come on, it’ll be fun. And just think how excited your mom will be when she gets a copy of it.”

Despite your best efforts, you had to laugh. “Okay.”

You headed to the photo area after you washed your face, Reeves helped you wipe off the stray streaks of mascara, and you reapplied just a bit of makeup to make yourself feel better. You were never sure what Reeves said to the photographer before the shots, but he seemed quite happy to take multiples. Reeves stayed pressed against your back with his arms down around your waist, hands clasped together in front of you, for each and every one.

At some point between the second and third shot, he leaned just a little closer into you and you suddenly felt his breath against your ear. “Like what you see?”

For maybe the first time that entire night, your face broke into a genuine smile. “Maybe.”

For a few minutes, your night was absolutely perfect.

The Present.

It was the greatest date that never was.

“No, Reeves was not my prom date,” you told your friends with a shake of your head.

You left out most of the other details, partly because you didn’t want to answer eight hundred questions from Vanessa and partly because, well, you just wanted those moments for yourself.

After the pictures, Reeves had asked if you would like to dance. Until then you didn’t realize it was possible for eyebrows to shoot that far up a person’s forehead, but yours were up for the challenge. You’d mumbled something about if Randie would mind, because you were sure she absolutely would, but he brushed it off. Randie had gone off with her friends when he came to find you, and he really wanted to dance with you, just one dance with his frog murder accomplice. And he said that with a straight face and a twinkle in his eye and there was no way you could refuse.

As if there was any way you’d say no.

One dance turned into two, and then several, until the girlfriend in question finally did show back up and Reeves was pulled away, leaving you with a soft smile and a mouthed “sorry”.

Definitely the greatest never-date.

After prom, life returned to what vaguely resembled normal. Your love life sucked and Reeves still had a girlfriend that wasn’t you, and you didn’t see him much. To be fair, the end of senior year and graduation did creep up pretty fast so there wasn’t a lot of time anyway. Graduation was there before you knew it; he cheered for you and you cheered for him as you each walked across the stage. You made brief appearances at each others’ graduation parties and talked a bit and then, once again before you knew what happened next, it was time to leave for college.

You went back to New York. Reeves stayed on the west coast.

And over the years, like so many other people before you and after you, you just fell out of touch.

“And anyway,” you asserted, “we were just kind of friends. Yeah, like I told Alexis before, we were lab partners sophomore year, and we hung out sometimes, but that was it. Really.”

Alexis snorted and Vanessa narrowed her eyes. “Mmmhmm.”

You threw the pillow back at her. “Mmmhmm.”

“All right, you two,” Alexis chided. “Come on, let’s get going.”

Somehow, you managed to get down to Greenwich Village without further interrogation and minimal shenanigans.

The Present. One Hour Later. Another Saturday Night.

The bar inside the club was pretty packed. Granted, it was a Saturday night down in The Village, so it wasn’t too uncommon, but you were honestly surprised that this many people showed up for a punk retrospective.

There were a few other relatively big-name acts you recognized on the bill, and a fair number of people were wearing t-shirts with Reeves’s most recent album cover on the front. There were even a few that had shirts with his face on it, which was frankly kind of weird.

“Looks like you’re not his only number one fan,” Vanessa smirked.

“I just enjoy his music,” you said off-handedly as you tried to flag down a bartender. “But anyway, tonight isn’t even about him. We’re just here to support charity, right?”

Alexis pretended to agree with you. “Right.”

You glared at both of them before turning your attention back to the bar. Yes, you came to every one of his shows in the area. When you had time. When you could take the night off. When you could rearrange your schedule and switch shifts at the last minute and promise favors to be able to attend them. When you maybe once or twice just called out sick because nothing else worked. So what.

They were really starting to get on your nerves.

The bartender finally noticed you and took your order, and you looked around the club again while you waited.

Lots of people, ranging from just-allowed-to-buy-booze to mid-sixties businessmen. A few folks that looked to currently be in their golden years but were clearly once punks in their prime. Many people in black and chains and mohawks and neon hair and piercings, to the point where you honestly couldn’t tell who was a performer and who was a patron.

The one person you were looking for was the one that you couldn’t pick out of the crowd.

“He’s gotta be here somewhere!” Vanessa’s voice shouted from somewhere behind your shoulder.

“Vanessa, you’re getting a little weird about this,” you called back as you grabbed your drink and turned around.

“Like what you see?”

Eyes wide and mouth slightly hanging open, you almost dropped your full glass.

Vaguely, nearby, you heard the sound of glass shattering and shot a glance to your left. Alexis really had dropped her drink, and Vanessa was clutching onto her arm for dear life. She was holding her glass at a slightly odd angle and the contents were dripping onto one of her shoes.

The crowd silently pulsed backwards as one, clearing out around the four of you for a respectable distance. Several people watched curiously; surprisingly, they just stood back and stared instead of trying to get involved.

Reason Number One why you really couldn’t blame them: Reeves stood there, right in front of you. Literally less than two feet away, looking right at you. His mouth pulled up into his familiar lopsided grin, his hair still dark but shot through with strands of silver, curly on the top and shorter on the sides. His nose with the little dent, perfect on his face under those dark, luminous brown eyes and...holy shit, was he wearing eyeliner? He was wearing eyeliner.

Reason Number Two why you really couldn’t blame them: Leather pants. Under his old, faded t-shirt and black leather jacket (you were used to seeing him in brown, but you had to admit the black looked good) he was wearing leather pants.

Reason Number Three why you really couldn’t blame them: Quite simply, Reeves was standing in the middle of a bar in New York City and he was talking to you.

You blinked once, then twice. You may have blinked more times but all you could think about was the fact that, after all these years, your brain still couldn’t make words when Reeves asked you a question.

That same old question.

Suddenly you were grinning back, completely ignoring your friends and their dumbfounded squawking and sputtering next to you. You were smiling because even though your brain couldn’t make full sentences of words, it could pull one particular word out of the void and let it come out past your lips.

“Maybe.”

Reeves grinned fully now, his eyes lighting up and the crinkles at the corners deepening.

Someone - maybe Vanessa, maybe a total stranger, you couldn’t be sure - might have swooned from the sidelines.

“Always told you I wanted to come to New York,” he said.

“Always told you I’d go back.”

And the next thing you knew, the next thing that made any sense anywhere in your mind, was that Reeves had stepped forward, wrapped his arms around you, and placed the softest, sweetest, most heart-achingly gentle kiss on your lips.

You pulled away in a daze, felt the heat rising in your cheeks, as you heard a muffled choking sound halfway behind you. Definitely Vanessa.

Alexis and Vanessa’s eyes, already bugging out of their faces, nearly fell out of their sockets when Reeves turned to address them.

“Hey, ladies. I’ll come talk to you after the show, but for now, I just need to borrow your friend for a few minutes, okay?”

There were somehow still more bizarre, mostly inhuman noises that came out of your friends and even later, when they’d deny ever acting like that in front of a famous rock star (and rolled their eyes at you when you corrected them that he was a musician, not a rock star), it wouldn’t matter because you weren’t paying a single bit of attention to them them anyway.

You only had eyes for one person.

He took your hand and pulled you past the bar, into a little room in the back; the office, presumably. The second you were both inside, he wrapped his arms around your waist and looked you in the eyes. He just stared for a few minutes, or maybe hours, you weren’t sure.

It really didn’t matter.

“Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted to do that?” he whispered.

“Third day of school, fourth period biology class, sophomore year?”

Reeves smiled softly. “The second you walked in that door.”

“Why didn’t you?” you tilted your head to look at him. Okay, to gaze into his eyes. You tilted your head to gaze into his eyes and your subconscious hoped to any gods that would listen that you did not have actual hearts or stars in your pupils.

Not that it really mattered.

His arms never left you but he gave a little shrug. “Never seemed to be the right time. And then I had a girlfriend.”

“Yeah,” you laughed. “And I ended up with that lame excuse for a boyfriend. But do you know how long I’ve wanted you to do that?”

“When you couldn’t stop staring at me when you sat down at the lab table next to me?”

“Hmmm, maybe. But definitely when you told the teacher we had to have a funeral for Lenny.”

“Hey, Lenny was a fuckin’ hero,” Reeves batted his eyes at you innocently. “He performed a brave and great service to his country.”

“I am oddly happy you’re still an idiot,” you giggled.

“I’m ecstatic that you kept coming to all my shows in the city.”

You pulled back slightly and looked at the ceiling. “You noticed?”

Reeves gave you that look. That look he always gave you, when you were teenagers, when you said something either completely ridiculous or completely profound. That look he gave you when he thought you might not be looking, even though you were always looking. That look that said he always had your back and you were his best friend. That look that you thought you’d be lucky to see one more time but probably never would.

That look.

“Of course I noticed. I thought about having security make you stay back, but that’s just...no. You always looked happy, and I don’t know...I just didn’t want to intrude, I guess? Just always wondered why you never stuck around after the shows, never stayed to talk to me, never came knocking on the dressing room door.”

You thought about that for a minute. You really did try, but you couldn’t come up with a decent answer. You were happy. Just seeing him was enough, you told yourself. Just hearing him sing was enough, just being in the same room with him, just being near. Just like it was back in high school.

Only it wasn’t high school anymore, and now that he’d finally, finally - after years of would’ve and should’ve and maybes - kissed you, you knew enough wasn’t going to be, well, enough.

So that’s what you told him.

And Reeves pulled you close, leaned in closer, and kissed you again.

You pulled apart, breathless again, and rested your foreheads together.

After minutes, or maybe days, or maybe hours, and definitely years - it didn’t really matter - Reeves was there. You were there. And for once, you were really there together.

“Like what you see?”

“...definitely.”

The Future. Any Day. Every Day.

You always thought, and your friends always said, that the best years of your life happened in high school. And to a certain extent, that was true and you believed in that notion for a very long time.

But ever since that night, that one glorious night in a Manhattan bar, you realized you were wrong.

The best years of your life were still happening.

~end~

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