Since for me this blog has been feeling like a massive flop and more like a prop lately, and given my worsening health making me extra bitter just in general, I think I'm gonna need to hit a soft refresh here. I'm not moving because I lack the commitment to do that, but I will be dropping, probably a few threads that have unfortunately been left behind context-wise. Gonna start fresh as Nix is newly pregnant, the arc is done, and there's nothing really else I can think of to spark motivation. So refresh it is. I do still want to write with people, and if our thread was a little left behind in Nix's canon, you'll likely get a meme or two sent from me when I next see you rb one.

Grace, Too - Director Orson Krennic x Reader (Rogue One)

🎉🎉 !!Fic Number 200!! 🎉🎉

Hollllly crap we made it. We MADE it. And as he was fic number 100, 200 had to be Krennic. HAD to be.

@wltz-bby​ @mandy23b​ @happyskywhale​ @missunsympathetic​

Author’s Note:  Good god. Oh... This SONG has a lot to answer for. 

So, I was introduced to these ‘Courtly Love’ ideas, and I thought they sounded like a lot of fun, so I have a few requests based around these based on conversations. This was the first one I attempted and uh, yeah we ended up with this glorious wordcount.

Also, for my dear requestor and also dear friend @sagitariusrising​ Happy (Belated) Birthday! 😘💜💙 I hope this fic is everything you wanted!

Grace, Too - The Tragically Hip

Disclaimer: Premise/Idea not mine - although I did make some executive decision changes that I hope you still like / Rogue One characters not mine / some small Catalyst references.

Prompt: “A true lover is constantly and without intermission possessed by the thought of his beloved”

Premise: Orson Krennic has himself an obsession. You remind him too much of someone he once knew. Orson Krennic is dangerous. This much you know, but you are not about to heed your own warnings....

Words: 17,100

Warnings: Swearing / Possessiveness/Obsession/Yearning / Smut - like Sinday/Sunday smut. 

_____

He said, I'm fabulously rich C'mon, just let's go She kinda bit her lip Geez, I don't know I come from downtown Born ready for you Armed with will and determination And grace, too The secret rules of engagement Are hard to endorse When the appearance of conflict Meets the appearance of force But I can guarantee  There'll be no knock on the door I'm total pro here That's what I'm here for I come from downtown Born ready for you Armed with skill and its frustration And grace, too

---

He had to admit Eadu was not his favourite planet in the galaxy. Susceptible to many a storm, Krennic had never known it not to be pouring whenever he arrived. He probably wouldn’t even have thought about travelling over at all, were his old friend Galen Erso not stationed there. True, it was an integral facility to the Death Star, but Krennic didn’t need to be here to survey operations, just receive the odd mail or two with updates. Krennic would much rather be at the heart of the weapon his was engineering; it was his project and his baby. But, he wouldn’t miss the opportunity to see Galen, and this was fairly important. He grimaced as he looked out at the rain again, hopefully this wouldn’t take too long either… *** You weren’t sure if you’d ever get used to the constant rainy patterns of weather here. No-one had ever really given you the uniform for it – having said that, how often did you really spend outside these days? A lot of your time was spent in labs pouring over facts and figures and complicated algorithms. You spent almost as much time in the labs as Galen did, which was certainly personal choice rather than because you were forced into long hours. You had two specialities: lasers and gem stones; you’d heard about the development of synthetic Kyber crystals and Galen’s work before, but you’d never beheld a real one until coming here. With the amount of effort you were putting in, you were starting to become a technical expert. (Also a little disappointed to say the least when you found out that synthetic Kyber hadn’t really worked as expected.) Still, when you and Galen weren’t working on your pet energy project – allegedly what this had been for in the first place, until the real reason for Kyber research came to the fore – you were working on the Death Star. Which was some glorified super laser, that needed Kyber to work and… well, precision focus, as any good laser should have. Kyber wasn’t only going to be used as a power source, but also to make sure that this laser had range and trajectory… and didn’t waver off that. Besides, looking at the design, although it would collectively become one laser, it started at multiple points across the span of the dish. If just one of those was wrong, would the laser even fire at all? So standing outside on the landing platform, having been summoned out here because apparently the Director of the whole project would be arriving, in the cold and wet was not your ideal start to the day. Especially as you’d been standing here for what felt like close to an hour. Where the heck was this guy? You’d heard a lot about Orson Krennic before now; not all of it was great, some of it was hearsay, but there was a lot of information you found interesting to say the least. He’d been working on this project (with or without Galen) for most of his adult life, so it didn’t surprise you that he’d be coming all the way out here for an update. You had only ever had the pleasure of being copied on emails to Krennic and the way he responded sometimes was downright scary. You were glad you’d never had to give him bad news… but with your project being what it was, it wouldn’t be long before you did have to face the wrath of his block capitals. Finally the sound of a cruiser cut through the air, by the distinctive sound it was a Delta-class T-3c. Yeah, you had a slight passion for ships too. You all stood to attention on the platform, fighting off the shivers from the wind chill, squinting for visibility through the sheet rain and trying not to get blown over either. When the door to the shuttle opened Galen stepped forward, to welcome your visitor. He was possibly around Galen’s age, and held a confidence and self-importance about him as he strode forward down the ramp. But he had grace, too. You were almost taken aback by the way Krennic smiled as he shook Galen’s hand firmly, conversation fairly urgent. You couldn’t even lip read them from here, but body language was easy to interpret and it didn’t take long for Krennic to have your boss on the back foot. But it wasn’t panic, only surprise. Galen beckoned the Director towards the facility but Krennic shook his head. This visit was clearly only to be brief; you weren’t about to have your first interaction with him after all; he wasn’t about to view your work, inspect it closely and criticize it. Maybe you were glad of that. The conversation wasn’t as fleeting as you thought, a lot of back and forth that had the rest of you shooting each other looks and wondering how much longer you had to stand to attention in the freezing weather. Eventually Galen gestured to all of you – you supposed he was saying ‘if you can’t come in, or stay very long, at least meet my team.’ Krennic seemed to consider this for a time, his eyes sweeping the line and freezing on you. Your breath caught for a moment – maybe it was just your imagination, but his gaze was certainly lingering on you, and those bright blue eyes of his were nothing short of captivating. You didn’t think you’d seen a blue like it anywhere in the galaxy. It felt like hours but it could only have been seconds before he turned back to Galen, they exchanged a few words briefly once more before Galen nodded and they shook hands again. Oh, he really was just going to leave? The Director walked brisky back towards his shuttle before turning and calling back something else that he’d clearly forgotten. Galen yelled something in response and Krennic half smiled, before his eyes flicked over Galen’s shoulder and returned to you. Yes. You were right, he was certainly focused on you. There was a rumble of thunder overhead and the lightning cracked across the sky. You had never minded the lightning; you found the colours and patterns fascinating. But those blue eyes were immediately illumined by the bright white flashes and you found yourself swallowing hard, you couldn’t place the look on his face but you weren’t sure it was so appropriate. That image was sure to haunt you. Krennic turned back, slower this time, and you found that you’d been holding your breath for quite some time.

Suddenly you didn’t think that you would mind receiving an email in block capitals from him at all. *** Galen was probably the least subtle he could possibly be when he was trying to be subtle. He’d been tiptoeing around something with you for a couple of days and it really was starting to annoy you. You slammed your stylus down on the table with a frustrated sigh and turned to him. “Galen, please, whatever it is… just tell me. You’re making me nervous!” He blinked a few times, taken aback by your tone – as if he hadn’t been making it very obvious. “I- I don’t want you to get the wrong idea.” You laughed, “Now I certainly will! What’s going on?” “…It’s not my idea, but it is my decision.” “What is?” You suddenly became scared yourself, “Are you firing me-!?” Galen’s eyes widened and he held his hands up, “What? NO, no… quite the opposite. I am…” He paused and thought to rephrase his question, “They need a crystallographer on the Death Star. A good one. Someone who can keep up with the team here. One who knows what she’s talking about.” You blinked a few times, before you understood, “You’re… sending me to the Death Star?” “Yes. B- but only if you want to go!” Wouldn’t that place you directly under Krennic’s authority? Why was it suddenly an exciting prospect? “I would be honoured. This is- your decision?” “They asked me for recommendations and there was only ever one choice.” That had you beaming, “Thank you for the opportunity, Galen.” “Well, I know you won’t let the facility down. And you’re always welcome back.” You chewed your lip thoughtfully for a second, and couldn’t help but ask: “What is he really like?” “Who?” “The Director.” Galen didn’t really answer the question, although a smile twitched on his face, “We met in the Futures Program. I’ve known him a very long time… I can’t say he’s ever changed.” “So he’s an adult teenage boy?” Maybe that was the wrong thing to say, but Galen laughed. “Well, he has qualities that you’d be forgiven for thinking he was one.” “Huh.” You nodded, “I’ll keep that in mind.” “But he is brilliant, of that there is no doubt. The Death Star project may have been going a long time, but I doubt anyone else could have completed it the way he has. Sharp. Intelligent. You’ll like him, I think.” You wondered if you already did. “Well, we’ll see if I’m begging to come back any time soon-!” He chuckled gently, “Well, I certainly hope not.” It didn’t take you very long to pack up, you were practically living out of boxes as it was. And you weren’t sure if you were nervous about having to move or not. You supposed you were in two minds; you’d actually get to see and be on the Death Star while you worked – sure the plans were one thing but, once you got a feel for the actual structure, maybe you could even be a little more experimental… The advantage of being on Eadu was you could hide away in a lab and make the 10,000 mistakes to get to the one (usually accidental) breakthrough. You were the only one judging yourself here, it was quiet; out there, and under Krennic, all eyes would be on what you were doing. You’d maybe be given the leeway of 2 or 3 mistakes but none more than that. And everything would be urgent. Needed yesterday! It was a good thing that you could work under pressure. Leaving was hard, and as you hugged Galen goodbye you couldn’t help but feel a pain in your heart: “I wish it didn’t mean leaving.” “You deserve it.” “Maybe. I hope I get to come back, eventually.” “We’ll certainly welcome you with open arms!” “Take care of yourself, Galen.” “And you – if he gives you any trouble, come straight to me.” You nearly grimaced, “Noted, but I really hope it doesn’t come to that!” *** The cruiser that picked you up wasn’t his, and you were glad the journey wasn’t as long as you expected, so you didn’t have too much time to overthink what was happening to you. In fact as the Death Star loomed into view your mouth was agape – you weren’t sure you expected the sheer size of it: easy to look at some numbers on a datapad but, when it was in front of you, you thought you might have bitten off a little more than you could chew. You were equally pleased and disappointed that Krennic was neither there to pick you up or greet you on the station – mostly because you didn’t seem to be able to find any appropriate words to say. The bustle of engineers, technicians and general command staff told you you were a million miles from your lab on Eadu, and you found yourself unable to communicate in anything other than one word awe filled sentences. Thankfully the Officer who greeted you seemed to understand, and as she walked you to your lab (everyone was obviously eager for you to start!) she chuckled warmly, “Don’t worry, I was exactly the same when I arrived here. It’s a lot. You’ll get used to it – and from what I understand you’ll be a very welcome addition to our team.” “Thanks,” You swallowed hard, “yes, I understand there’s an expectation on me here.” “Well, the Director only wants the best of the best.” She keyed you into the lab and then handed you your pass, “If you’re here it’s because you are the best. And he wants you.” You tried hard not to think about that in any way other than for your work, but it was hard. Ever since that look he’d given you as he left, those vivid blue eyes filled your dreams – including those that you’d rather Krennic kept out of. As she continued talking, she snapped you back to reality: “Anyway, I will leave you to get settled in here, all your things will be sent to your quarters. I’ll have someone sent up with all the details and your datapad.” She grinned at the door before she turned to head out, “Welcome to the Death Star!” *** You spent your time unpacking all your laboratory kit - some of this work you’d only trust to go right with your own gear that much was certain - before you started examining the lab closely. Everything was, as expected, state of the art, they had every machine it was possible to get in order to aid you on your quest to get these vectors just right. If the work wasn’t quite so serious this was almost a wonderland for you. As you continued to stare around the lab, making mental notes of exactly which you would need and would be the most useful for your work, the lab doors slid open again to another visitor. You turned to explain yourself away as the new girl but immediately froze. Standing opposite you, also seemingly glued to the spot and an unreadable look on his face, was none other than Director Krennic. You weren’t sure you expected to see him so soon, and you were still thoroughly unprepared for it. He recovered better than you. “I was told my new hire had arrived. You-” He paused for a minute, head tipped, before a small smile appeared on his face, “You’re from the Eadu facility!” After all, Krennic hadn’t asked only Galen for help in recruiting – you just had the best credentials. But he certainly recognised you from that platform. “Yes, Sir, Galen sent me – he said you were looking for a good crystallographer.” “Yes. And you’re here, welcome. It’s good to finally meet you in person.” “The honour is mine, Director, I look forward to working with you.” You swallowed hard, “Believe me, it is me that is honoured… uhm?” “Oh, Y/N, Sir.” Then you blushed forgetting yourself, “Ah! Officer L/N!” That smile became a gentle smirk, “Would it be so awful for me to refer to you by your first name?” “…I’m sorry, I… It’s how we do things on Eadu, I… realise that I am not there anymore Sir, forgive me.” You could feel yourself getting hotter. “You need not be forgiven, Y/N. I’m happy to do things your way.” Krennic placed a datapad on the table in front of him, “It’s all set up correctly, I made sure of that myself. I have to make sure my researcher is well equipped on the first day of her job, after all.” On top of it he lay another access card, “You’ll need that for your room, your ID will allow you access to almost as many files as me, I figured you’ll need them.” Krennic’s blue eyes fell back on you, “Anything you can’t access you come directly to me, and anything else you need, the same. I will make sure it reaches you promptly.” “Yes, Sir.” You nodded through his explanation, “Thank you.” Krennic nodded back, looking around the room, “Tell me, how do you like the lab?” “It’s certainly state of the art. There’s probably not another one like it across the galaxy. There’s a lot I would like to explore with these devices once I’m finished with my work for the Battle Station. Time permitting.” Krennic shrugged, “Do what you will with the time that you have free. I expect you’ll work hard.” “Yes, Sir.” “Good.” He winked stepping back from you, “I will leave you to get settled, and may I welcome you to the Death Star! I’m very excited to see what you can do for us!” And by that smirk on his face, yes, you could bet… Krennic hurried back to his office cursing himself. Yes, he wanted the best – and he had absolutely no doubt that he would get it with you. He’d read every CV in great detail; obviously he’d paid more attention to those from Galen, considering the weaponry was coming from that lab, but Galen had neglected to mention that you were with him on Eadu in his note for you. You were Galen’s first choice, and Orson Krennic was not about to go against his friend’s advice. It was just your look. Not just physically, but that look on your face – he couldn’t shake it.  Now he could bet that your personality would be similar just to curse him… He didn’t fall in love often, not hard. Orson could fall in and out of ‘love’ with people very quickly – always liked to keep a string of bed mates, if he didn’t fall in love, and didn’t necessarily care, then he wouldn’t get hurt. And he hardly needed to put in much effort, a little bit of flirting and an expensive drink was all he usually needed. Besides, now Krennic had this rank bar and a reputation, so he probably needed even less: sometimes people were trying to pick him up – he couldn’t say he wasn’t flattered. On the occasions he did though – it usually had the proficiency to mess him up. You reminded him very much of a girl he’d known in the Futures Program – back when he was young and reckless. Okay, Krennic could back track on that sentence, young. That, first love, fast heartbeat, can’t stop staring, ‘only thing in the world that matters’ kind of feeling. The kind of love that at that age would make him naïvely think it’d be forever – where their ambitions would meld together and everything would just work out. Even if they had no idea how. Krennic would stand by it as a real love, a feeling he had chased since he lost her. He’d fallen that hard again since – sure – but never in the same way. Orson didn’t think you could ever get a ‘first love’ feeling back. And he certainly didn’t want to ever feel like he did when it ended again. But you, and your face, and your body, and that look you gave him – all Krennic could see in you was her. Turning to his datapad for a second he had half a mind to see who your parents were, then stopped short of himself. ‘Don’t be stupid, Orson, she’s too old for that!’ – even if marginally. It made him curious about you though, what if your personality was the same? What if all of these factors culminated in him… feeling like that about you. He almost cursed at himself. ‘Don’t be stupid, she works for you, and you’ll shake it. It’s just the shock, it’s two or three glimpses of her face – you’ll be able to pick out all the differences in no time. Then you won’t think about what you loved and lost… or yearn for it back.’ Krennic scoffed at the very idea of him yearning, but brought you up on his datapad anyway. A smirk started to spread its way across his face as he lingered on your photograph. Well, he certainly wasn’t averse to one of you getting messed up in the process of this partnership…

***

 Krennic was right, one of you was going to get messed up by this; and it seemed more obvious now that person was going to be him. He wanted your personality to be different to hers, then he could form some distinction - and for the most part you had differences, you were your own woman. The problem was Krennic let himself get obsessed over the similarities, those small details that wouldn’t have mattered to anyone else. And if he was honest those parts of you that were nothing like her just messed him up even more, because he liked those too. He liked you for you. It worried him.

You busied yourself with your work and tried to keep out of everyone’s way. You very much hoped it might be ‘out of sight out of mind’; but knew with the importance of the project you wouldn’t have that luxury. That had you experimenting until the early hours of the morning sometimes - and you always sent Krennic an update email last thing before you went to bed. Just so he never had to come looking himself: you’d heard all about him, but now you were here you’d witnessed it yourself. And Krennic screaming at people in corridors was not something you were that ready for. You did not want that wrath coming down on you, so you tried to keep one step ahead of the man that knew this station inside and out. What amazed you was, as you placed your datapad down for the evening and settled into your sheets, more often than not you’d receive a ‘ping’ to let you know of incoming mail. You’d ignored it for a while but - being too curious - investigated, only to find Krennic had sent you a thank you note. ‘What the heck is he still up working for!?’ Well, this became a regular occurrence, and tonight was no different - only now you waited to see if he’d reply and you smiled as it came in. ‘Why can’t everyone do this?  Do you know how well this Station would run!? Thank you. As ever. - K.’ You hovered over the reply button, as you had nearly all week. Every single time the knot in your stomach made you panic and you bailed out. Not tonight. ‘You are welcome, Director. Just doing my job. It’s getting late, you should probably get some rest.’ As he had, you signed off with your initial. It took him all of 5 seconds to reply, ‘I could say the same.  Goodnight, Y/N. – K.’ ‘Goodnight, Director. Sleep well.’ You grimaced as the message flew off to the other side of the Death Star, was that a step too far? Oh well. Couldn’t take it back now!

Eventually your reports got shorter, not for lack of trying, but progress was slow. And you always tried to make ‘nothing really happened today’ last for as many pages as possible. But you realised quickly that Director Krennic was smart enough to read between the lines; he never asked for more than you gave him, but as he started asking you for progress updates, rather than waiting until you sent them, you knew he wasn’t far off the point where you might start receiving those dreaded block capital emails.

It wasn’t like what you’d done up until now wasn’t hard; it was. It was just now you were at a snagging point and you really didn’t want to have to redo what you’d already done to get past it. It also wasn’t something you could easily bypass. And you couldn’t ignore it. If you got this wrong that laser didn’t work - and it’d all come back on you. This calculation was going to take time you didn’t have - NOBODY had - and the pressure was starting to get you frustrated.

You didn’t actually receive a block capital email, but an impromptu visit to your lab. And the colour must have immediately drained from your face - to counteract the way your heart decided to beat like a kick drum - because Krennic raised his hands in almost apology. “Thought it might be quicker to ask you rather than you to write up a report.” “Well you already know it’s not going well.” “I know woolly language when I see it. You don’t need to use filler with me. If you’re stuck just say so.” “Forgive me, Sir, but I don’t exactly want to get yelled at, and there’s a lot at stake here.” You cursed yourself internally for being so comfortable with talking to him like this. But decided that it might be best to speak your mind. “Why would I yell at you?” You gave him a pointed look that Krennic understood, but he didn’t think you quite understood the question. Why would he yell at you? Instead he cleared his throat, “I understand… Why don’t you, walk me through it?” “Can you help?” It wasn’t meant to come out so disbelieving, and you thought you’d put your foot in it about 10 times during this conversation already - but Krennic just shrugged. “I’ll see if I can assist. Maybe I’ll have a perspective you’re not thinking of.” You took a breath, “Okay...” “Okay.” He gave a firm nod, and sat at one of the lab tables, “What exactly are you trying to achieve that you cannot?” You took a deep breath, “Think of holding a laser pointer,” you collected one, and as a demonstration you pointed it at the blank wall and clicked it on; “Even with a steady hand, or two hands, there’s movement.” The dot wasn’t wiggling much but Krennic nodded along, “Well, this station is just a massive destructive laser pointer, with 8 different lasers all coming together… so in fact there’s 9 laser pointers in total. Even a millimetre out can be the difference between this laser working, or catching on something we don’t want it to and blowing up Imperial Forces, or - god forbid - the entire station…!” You walked over to a little holder you’d rigged up, placing the pen upon it and stepping back: “Crudely speaking when focusing a laser through Kyber it should keep the laser's trajectory steady with pinpoint accuracy, whilst also maintaining the power and range of the laser. It’s a multipoint system, if even one of those points is off, the whole thing fails. And what better to take the power of a laser created by Kyber than…” “Kyber.” You smiled enthusiastically, “Exactly!” Krennic looked back at the dot on the wall, “So what’s your snag?” You turned the datapad to face him, “This.” He raised an eyebrow immediately, “That’s… a lot of numbers.” “Yes. And every time I calculate it, it’s an error. And it needs to balance because it’s got to work between-” “Nine lasers.” You said in unison. “Correct.” You smiled, liking that he was getting it. “I don’t expect Kyber not to be able to take the force, it’s the making sure we’re hitting it all just right. To check how much the crystals might refract the energy. To make sure there’s not a power surge… I just can’t get the power balance right to get the trajectory… not to do something ridiculously wild.” “Or make the whole station virtually useless.” “Yes. And the thing is that the number is nearly always the same. You know, like… I’m point-5 out, and yet I can’t figure out where that is coming from. Freakin’ crystals, and Kyber is notoriously the worst!” You placed your hands on your hips, “I’ll get it. I just need time.” He nodded, “You have time believe me.” Krennic stood, “I believe I should leave you to it.” “But the completion of the-” “Let me worry about that. You worry about getting my vectors right. You have time.” That he could promise you. Krennic didn’t want you to panic, he thought that would throw this project into even more disarray. He needed you with a level head and at your best mindset. He thought he knew how to do just that. You flushed, “Thank you, Director.” “Don’t mention it, Y/N.” He paused as he got to the door, turning back to you those blue eyes caught yours and you nearly jumped at the dark flicker across them. “I look forward to reading your report, tonight.” The way his voice lowered like that, how that smooth tone he usually kept laced with a growl had you struggling to breathe as he left, and you had to undo your uniform and catch your breath. ‘Geez, what was that!?’ Did you have a thing for your senior commander? A real thing!? Sure those damn eyes were always haunting your dreams, and he was nearly always your daily closing thought (but he put himself there, didn’t he!) but… this was more than that, this was a physical reaction - and you were sure he was eliciting an emotional one from you, too. “God dammit, Y/N,” you breathed, looking back to the door and wishing he’d come walking back through it, “could you have a worse idea-!?” *** He had to be honest he wasn’t sure why he had no semblance of control around you; it should have been easy to control. Krennic spent his life trying to control his emotions… okay, maybe not very well but he did. You had him smiling all over the place. He far outstayed his welcome in the lab whenever he found reason to go down there; and Krennic certainly found plenty of reason. Usually if he visited anyone at their work station he was either none too pleased with them, or he wanted their report - and quickly! - before he swept himself off to another meeting or urgent matter around the station. He liked the sound of your voice explaining things to him; and how every question he asked was met with not just an answer, but a good answer. Instead of a string of ‘I don’t know, sir’s. Nothing Krennic asked of you ever seemed like trouble either; then again he supposed you wouldn’t really want to refuse the Director of the Death Star what he wanted. It was obvious you wanted to remain here, and you were trying to do your very best to figure out all these algorithms alone.

Krennic sent you an assistant and even got you on calls with people in similar fields. The assistant stayed with you a little, until it got a little too complicated even for them and you dismissed them with thanks - you’d got a step closer, that’s all you could ask for. Eventually though, you had to reach out to Galen - and Krennic wanted to sit in on these calls. You wondered if it was because he thought the two of you would spend the majority of it dragging him - you rather thought you might be giving him a string of compliments with half the chance to do so. And the three of you started to break your work down to basics. Krennic’s new perspective aided more than you really wanted to admit to him, but he had this attitude that made you think he wanted to be useful here - and it made you more than a little suspicious. Maybe he really was spying on you both…

Krennic wasn’t sure if he wasn’t forcing the relationship to grow beyond appropriate parameters, all discussions did still revolve around work after all, but was happy that you were forthcoming. Spending more time with you meant he could analyse you more - and whilst you still very much reminded him of his ex-lover, you were becoming your own person. The person who filled his thoughts. You were almost his every waking moment. When in your lab together, even when Krennic was listening to every word, he was watching your body - the way you moved was fluid as you eagerly explained something and demonstrated. But meticulous and calculating when you were working on a screen - absolutely none of your energy was wasted that could have been used to think on the problem. And yet even every small movement you made was significant. Usually to cross through or correct a calculation. Change your vector arrows around a little. Krennic liked watching you do this too, because when it was all correct you gave this small satisfied smile, and even though it was to yourself, it was very endearing - it was one thing he always looked forward to seeing.

Tonight, as ever, Krennic was agonising over waiting for your report. No matter how exhausted he might be when he finally retired to his quarters for the evening, he always knew your end of day email would come through and Krennic forced himself to stay awake for it. Mostly so he could read too much into the string of ‘flirty’ emails that followed it, but he couldn’t have been the only one who read that energy. After all, sometimes he gratuitously flirted back, and you still kept responding. As soon as he heard that ping he rushed across the room to read it. You reporting was always concise even though you managed not to leave a single detail out - and now he knew more about your work, it was easier to understand and for him to scan through. Krennic would be more thorough tomorrow. ‘Thorough as ever, Ms. L/N. – K.’ ‘I like to make sure you don’t need to ask questions.’ ‘Where’s the fun in that? – K.’ ‘It helps me sleep better.’ ‘Me not ask questions about your reporting? – K.’ ‘Goodnight Director. Please get some sleep!’ He remembered the first time that he’d read that goodnight from you, how he’d stared at those words for a long time - heart stilled. It didn’t help him sleep at all, far from it. In fact nothing about you seemed to help anything - except Krennic thinking on you.

You were impressive - dare he say that you had more skill in your particular area than maybe even Galen did. That, added to the weight of his constant Futures Program reminder, kept you at the forefront of his mind constantly. Krennic found it very hard to concentrate on his own work; and his thoughts wandered, particularly in meetings he found to be less than stimulating. He’d poured over your CV and your previous published research time and again. Read all your imperial records and anything Intelligence could get hold of on you. Krennic knew almost everything there was to know, and yet he wanted to hear it all from you. And you seemed less than forthcoming with information that was personal. That almost worried him - maybe you weren’t looking for anything other than a professional relationship with him. Krennic wasn’t sure how much longer he’d be able to keep it that way; eventually he’d have to make some kind of move - he couldn’t let you go without you knowing. He wasn’t about to let you be the (other) one that got away. Not both of you. Time ticked on this evening, and he lay in his sheets wide awake. Work was making him drowsy; and he’d been up and down trying to work himself to sleep, but every time he put his datapad down and switched off the lights he was alert again. Krennic glanced at the clock and groaned, watching the minutes race towards his alarm. Unsurprisingly it was thoughts of you that were keeping him awake. Usually you were on his mind at night; you were certainly the last one before he turned the light off, but usually he could drift to sleep perfectly fine. Not tonight. Krennic placed his hands palm down on his stomach, inhaling and exhaling slowly: wasn’t that how you did it? Deep, slow, calming breaths. That evidently made things worse, and his breathing patterns this time brought with them fairly vivid images that occasionally he’d seen in dreams. Certainly none of them were very professional - and all of them were about you. ‘Stars-! Orson, stop it!’ But he couldn’t, and his mind wanted to play tricks on him, trying to make him imagine what it would feel like to touch your bare skin, to hear you moan quietly, the way you might say his name in elation. He growled to himself as heat gathered a little lower than his hands were. He moved them, breaths already short and sharp and not at all where he’d intended to be at… “This is a bad idea.” Orson groaned softly and bit his lip, squeezing his eyes shut bringing all those images back; did he really have any better ones? *** It wasn’t a lie to state you were getting closer. At least to the point where Krennic started to make jokes in meetings that were clearly meant for you only. And when you looked up to him unsure if it was appropriate to laugh and he’d almost dare you to, you knew they certainly were. He’d always ask for a score out of 10 in his emails to you now. And it was refreshing for you to find a similar relationship to the one you had with Galen here… well, maybe you shouldn’t have been surprised. They were good friends after all, and there had to be a reason for that. Krennic also made a habit of being wherever you were. And you weren’t sure that was so endearing. You understood why he would want to be around your lab - maybe not as often as he was, but then… perhaps you knew the reason for that too, you just didn’t want to hope on it - but not why he’d turn up in corridors he had no business being in. Or would end up in the cafeteria at the exact moment you walked in. He even ended up in staff briefings he’d specifically asked someone else to take either so he could sit or stand near you. You couldn’t help but find some of this behaviour odd: was Krennic stalking you? Was he looking out for you? Was he protecting you? You couldn’t imagine it was just coincidence - and part of you hoped it wasn’t. You just couldn’t really tell his intentions. That’s what scared you the most.

By now you’d heard the coffee room chat about Krennic - seemed he had a bit of a lady’s man reputation. Pretty smooth at getting you into bed, but would love you and leave you just as fast, and on-to-the-next-one. Were you simply the next one? Because as much as by now you wanted to be, you certainly didn’t want to be one on a list… love you was okay… but leave you? You weren’t the type of woman who would put yourself in that position. For him would you?

It made you a little more cautious around him, and suddenly that made your relationship slip. Because you didn’t know if you should be flirting with him or joking with him as much as you were. This pull back from you didn’t faze Krennic too much, just made him try a little harder. For you it then became obvious what he wanted. And you had to do your damndest to control yourself. You both did.

You were using every ounce of your Imperial training to try to ignore your feelings, to make sure your face stayed level and revealed nothing. You always tried to keep your eyes on his face; instead of the wandering they wanted to do - even when he wasn’t directly talking to you. That didn’t mean that when he was walking away from you, or simply keeping busy in your lab, you weren’t discreetly checking him out. You had to wonder what he looked like out of that uniform, considering he looked so gorgeous in it. You were inexplicably drawn to him, but you weren’t sure if it was his power you were attracted to: the rank bar on that uniform told everyone exactly who was boss and he walked like he owned every corridor in this place. He didn’t even need to exert his influence in meetings, everyone knew he was the most important man in the room. When Krennic had something to say everyone listened, even when he said it quietly. You’d never known someone to command that kind of attention, and considering that reputation you were not the only officer - of any gender - who fawned over him. You were just the best at hiding it. That charisma he exuded really was something to behold; he was just far too confident. Maybe a little conceited in it too, but you were sure you’d be powerless to it. The Director probably had the ability to walk up to you and say “Come to bed with me” and you’d go on that alone, you knew if he was so inclined, he could just say it like that. It was probably in your favour that Krennic liked to be a little more suave. Krennic seemed like one for class and grace. Or was it that you really were attracted to him, that you had some kind of undeniable chemistry. That you would almost count him a friend. That you just liked being in Krennic’s aura and talking to him about work… you’d even started to open up to him about personal stuff, where you’d grown up, your family… how exactly you’d ended up a crystallographer who was working here on laser vectors. And most importantly how much you loved storms, planetary or solar - this seemed like something you had to let him know. Just a silly little fact, perhaps, but to you it really meant something. It was little moments like that, when he laughed at your stories, that you thought this really might be mutual attraction, rather than someone Krennic just wanted to get in bed.

Yet, you had an effect on him also and he tried to hide it as well as you did. You caught it, only because you knew the look of someone trying to contain themselves. You saw it in the mirror or polished surfaces of this battle station all the time. Krennic quite often clenched his jaw around you, he had this habit of staring at you like he was staring through you; and sometimes he would just stare forward if you were next to him. That almost annoyed you, because you wanted to be able to look into those crystal blue orbs just once... But if Krennic was watching you, then it was an altogether different story, and if he ever caught you catching him, that look in his eyes didn’t disappear; it was hungry, and although it stirred something within you that you had to fight even harder to control, it scared you a little too - and in the back of your mind it lit a spark that became a raging fire. And you had to know, would he act on that look too? You made a vow, before you’d finished your work, before you’d left this battle station - you would find out.

Today hadn’t been so bad by all accounts; the test you’d set up you would have to leave overnight, so you got out of the lab on time. Maybe you’d even get an early night tonight. Maybe you’d persuade the Director to one of his own with your report email; you thought he probably needed it. A frown pulled its way across your face as you arrived at your quarters with the door open, and you poked your head around it, gasping to find other officers moving things around, and carrying what appeared to be boxes of your stuff. You hadn’t authorised this! “What’s going on!?!” You blurted, a little angrier than you’d meant, “What are you doing!?” Then you froze for a second; had you read something wrong? You knew something was up with him… but maybe you were supposed to have acted on it by now? Maybe your work was taking too long - was he pissed at you? Did Krennic want you off the station!? You looked to the most senior officer, “Am I being thrown off the project?!” “No.” At least you could breathe then, “We’re simply moving your quarters.” “Moving my quarters?” You couldn’t help but be confused: had you missed that email? It seemed a little too important to just be sprung upon you. “On whose orders!? I haven’t signed off on this!” “Director Krennic’s.” That shut you up almost immediately. ‘Oh well shit, what’s he moving me for!?’ You swallowed hard, not even caring if it was visible. “Well, in that case you better show me where I’m moving to…”

Once you got there - and they assured you that your key card would still work - you realised that you hadn’t just moved to any old room. Krennic had moved you to a commander's quarters, and it was plush to say the least. You had so much more room in here. The bay window stretched at least half the room and you couldn’t help your small smile; ‘he remembered’. Your little stories of staying up huddled in a window frame to watch storms in nearby, or passing, solar systems and planets. You shook your head slowly to yourself and picked up your datapad again, figuring out where exactly you were on the ship - further from the labs, which was a minor inconvenience. It seemed that at least there was an elevator close by that you could use to get to the right floor and then it’d be a straight walk. What interested you though was, looking at the schematic, you appeared to be just two corridors away from Krennic’s own room. That was not coincidence. “Son of a-” suddenly you found yourself laughing. Why? So he could walk past your room every day? So he had you closer? And looking at the rooms around, probably as close as he could get: you were surrounded by his senior command team.

You moved through the room, and started to notice little details that he’d had placed here; books by your favourite authors, or researchers… your favourite music. Maybe you’d told him far too much about yourself. But it was the fact he retained the information that had you impressed. He’d even left you a box, tied with ribbon in your bathroom, and when you pulled at it you found it was filled with very expensive toiletries, that you knew he wouldn’t have been able to come by easily, in all your favourite scents. Nothing is coincidence at all… is it Krennic? Was he trying to woo you - was this all part of a game plan; you could only conclude yes. And by the way your heart was currently beating in your chest, you had to say it was working.

Moving back into the main room and sitting back on the bed with your datapad, ready to send your report for the evening, you’d failed to notice the letter lying on top of your sheets. You pulled your finger across the top of the envelope and unfolded the card carefully: ‘Dear Y/N, Welcome to your new quarters. I believe someone of your talent is worthy of somewhere a little nicer. You will find me just down the hall if you need anything, and please do not hesitate. I hope you enjoy your stay here. And, should there be a storm, that you enjoy the view. Director Orson C. Krennic Head - Imperial Weapons Division’ The card also seemed to be scented, which you had to raise an eyebrow at; ‘who uses scented note cards?! What’s that all about!?’ You put it down to having more money than sense and placed the card on your bedside table, before getting back to what was really important.

As expected, even when it was a little earlier in the evening, Orson Krennic responded to your email almost immediately. ‘Earlier than usual? You really are efficient, Y/N. – K.’ ‘Thought I would get an early night in Director… in my new quarters. You should to.’ - You weren’t meant to imply together, but you also didn’t care if that’s how he read it. ‘Any thoughts? – K.’ ‘They are very nice, thank you. Although in future a little more notification would help!’ ‘Noted. And as you are closer, you can deliver your reports in person now – K.’ You raised an eyebrow, why would that make any sense? ‘When I can send it over email?’ Why... would you? Even when closer the time it’d take you to walk to his quarters, give him the document and walk back, would still be far longer than an email. ‘Consider it. – K.’ ‘I will!’ You weren’t sure you would, but that was what he wanted to hear. And of course you’d play to that whim. ‘Good. Goodnight, Y/N – K.’ ‘Goodnight Orson.’ You stared at the email after you’d sent it and almost screamed. What were you doing-!?! Why were you addressing a senior officer by his first name!? What was he bringing you to? You placed your head in your hands and took a deep breath. ‘Okay, it’s one slip and you can say you were tired and apologise profusely later…’

You threw your tablet on your table too and snuggled back under your new plush sheets. The bed was cozy and soft and suddenly you couldn’t be happier that Krennic had arranged for this. You closed your eyes; it was this time of the evening you liked to try and ground yourself. It was clear that both of you wanted each other to some degree, but you were the one that had to be sure about this and the most careful. You had more to lose here; Krennic had the ability to kick you off the project, not just out of his bed… if you ever got in it. But by now you were pretty sure you would end up in it. It was more a matter of when. He was powerful, you’d covered that. But Krennic was also dangerous, that much was also obvious… dangerous in terrible and delicious ways. So perhaps, as well as everything else, you were drawn to that danger. You wondered suddenly which side of him would show up more when it was just the two of you alone… in conditions more intimate. Would that power completely consume you; did you have any chance at all? You weren’t sure you wanted any at just the opportunity to be pinned under his body. To run your hands over his skin. To answer all the questions you had, and see if all those water cooler rumours were true… (You hoped to God some of them were.)

You were close to drifting off when your eyes suddenly snapped open. Krennic was your favourite pre-sleep thought, and your subconscious tonight brought you a revelation. That note card was not scented. You scrambled around for it and held it close to your face, inhaling. That was what Krennic smelled like - you should know because you’d always thought he smelt pretty good, it was a fairly subtle scent when on his skin - here it was a little stronger, which is why it had taken you so long to pick up on it.

That damn man had sprayed his note to you with his cologne. *** You decided that Krennic knew far too much about you. On the morning after your move you opened your door to head back to the labs, so you could check on the results of your testing, and Krennic was two steps from your door. You were startled by his sudden presence but he offered nothing but a small smile and a casual, “Right on time, Ms. L/N.” “Uh- I- Director.” You wouldn’t exactly say you greeted him as he felt in step with your walk towards the elevator. “How do you think your testing went?” “Well…” You took a deep breath, instantly regretting it as that cologne seemed to surround you completely. Now your senses were looking for it. Your stomach knotted and you felt the immediate urge to press your thighs together and groan. Dammit. “Well?” Krennic pressed, eying you when you didn’t answer. You hoped your face wasn’t flushing even though you felt hot. “It’s a make or break test. I certainly hope it’s worked.” You could hear that strained edge to your voice, you knew for certain Krennic would have picked up on it. As you turned into the elevator you immediately reached for your button, the Director was two steps ahead of you and your hands brushed. You withdrew yours immediately, and knew you must have been red by now. “S-Sorry.” “No, my apologies, I just wanted to help.” You stared at the floor of the elevator for a good few minutes, holding your fingertips in your other hand. Why did it tingle like that? You didn’t actually ever think you’d physically touched him before, had you? Even when you’d been so close previously in the lab. But it’s not even like it was his skin. In fact, for someone with such a reputation, Krennic had very little skin on display at all. Did he ever not wear gloves? Not that you could recall. ‘Stop-! Y/N! You sound so repressed! You’ve seen naked men before.’ Your eyes flicked back to Krennic, staring at the ceiling, and you swallowed hard. Sure, but you hadn’t seen him naked. The rest of the ride was conducted in silence, because you didn’t trust yourself not to blurt out anything you shouldn’t, but as you left Krennic took a step to stop the doors from closing. “What, not even a goodbye?” You paused in the corridor and turned back to him, unable to stop yourself from smiling that he actually wanted that from you. “Goodbye Director, have a good day.” “Not likely, but work permitting. Good day, Y/N.” and as the doors slid closed on him you caught his wink, and could swear he was smirking.

You stood outside your little lab for a long time before you entered. You admitted to yourself you were delaying the inevitable but you needed to. After all, if this was a complete failure then you might as well throw out almost a years’ worth of work. Well, maybe that was a bit dramatic, but at least all the months you’d been up here on the battle station. You’d need a good stiff drink and to cry in bed for a couple of days at the very least. Oh, and you’d probably be fired, reputation in ruins… You keyed yourself in and flicked on the lights. What you had done was rigged up a few small versions of the Death Star and set each of them to different vectors. The pieces of Kyber you were using were tiny, but they would still work in principle with your laser pens.

You stared at the points on the wall in turn. One had disappeared completely, which was all but useless to you. It didn’t mean that the calculation wasn’t steady: it could have just meant that the trajectory was way off. Either way, you could discount that as a failure. And the next one; giving a similar waver to when you’d shown Krennic what ‘steady hands’ really meant. Although minimal, you’d already explained why you couldn’t stand for it. That left the last two. And the results looked fairly similar even though your vectors were different for both. You had to call the result unexpected: perhaps there were two ways to do this. You looked back to your little models and then to the points, waving your hand in front of the lasers. And then you smiled, and that small smile became a grin, became a laugh of triumph. Although both were near perfect, the third one had a far stronger beam of light. There was your power. The second most important part of the project. The station had to do what it was built for when the laser reached its target, after all. “We have a winner.” You whispered to yourself walking back to your table. Now you had to report these findings and scale them up to full size. Working in other contingency factors - after all that laser would not be travelling through clean air in a lab and hitting a solid smooth wall. That would be fun.   Still, you couldn’t wait on his report to tell him the good news. ‘Report spoilers: It works!’ There was a long pause between emails, and you could picture Krennic sitting at his desk, relief flooding him, smug little smirk on his face that this was finally going to get done - the finish line seemed in sight now. You hoped you’d made his day. When the email came back you couldn’t help but read into it a little more than you probably should have, and yet you also thought he wanted you to: ‘This sounds like a cause for celebration... – K.’

You did not in fact bring the report to him by hand, and neither did he ask it of you, but from that day forward you were called into his office daily briefings. And suddenly you got to realise just what your research meant to the people working on this station, because the first day you walked in, expecting to see just him, the room was full of his top engineers and each and every single one of them was applauding you. “Now the real work begins.” Krennic was leaning against his desk, arms folded, with eyes only for you. “Welcome, Y/N, to the team that will build your concept. From physical engineering to coding. I will assist in overseeing you, but the team are now at your disposal. From now, until test day.” Your eyes couldn’t help but light up, even though you knew you should have probably been professional about this. “Thank you, Director.” You beamed, “I look forward to working with all of you. Let's make this vision a reality, for the Empire!”

Suddenly this was better than anything you’d had with Krennic before - you almost had non-stop contact with him, from walking out of your door in the morning, to retiring for the evening. And you were happy to find that he provided both the perfect intellectual and humorous stimulant. You also noted how many crew members now looked at you with nothing but jealousy. Despite the fact nothing had happened between you yet. The way he regarded you was now even more open. Every look that followed every little flirtatious comment or innuendo was extremely pointed. Sometimes his eyes would even darken. It scared you enough to have you shy away from him; but also had you scared at how much you desired him. You just wanted him to touch you, just the smallest taste. To be honest you didn’t care what he did, as long as he did something. Krennic could bend you over his desk in front of your entire engineering team for all you cared anymore.

Speaking of your engineering team, you’d never seen a group of people work harder or more efficiently, and seeing them turn all your data and tiny models into tangible pieces for the Death Star was wonderful. You gasped to see the sheer size of the Kyber they had harvested to give your vectors pinpoint accuracy. “I have never… seen Kyber like that!” And the way Krennic got all smug again, “Only the best for you. Of course.” “You flatter me, Sir.” And that little knowing nod he gave you back. Once everything started to go into place, and you got word that Galen was almost finished with the laser itself (you received many an email from him about how proud he was and so many others from your friends back on Eadu that you almost cried, thanking them again and again for their participation in even the smallest part of your research), that the dish was currently in the process of being assembled outside and you couldn’t believe you were doing this. You couldn’t believe you were about to be a part of history. Your name was going to be right up there. Never even in your wildest dreams... As you could take a little more time over your reports these days, and there was far less for you to really comment on, you did start to present Krennic with physical copies. Usually just before you headed off for the evening you would drop them off on his desk with a small smile, and he would drag them towards him. “Glad to see you are taking my advice.” “Well, as you seemed fairly adamant I did it, I thought I had better start, Director.” “They do make for good bedtime reading.” “I’ll bet…” Only for the last week you’d started spraying them with your perfume, very subtly at first, but steadily the scent became stronger, and oh, he had noticed. When the doors closed behind you this evening he held the report to his nose and inhaled, groaning as heat coursed through his body. Krennic couldn’t take it any longer, he knew exactly what you were doing. Both of you were dancing around it, and now neither of you were being very subtle, either. But this was the final straw - because he wanted this scent all over him. What it would feel like to pin you beneath him, have your body against his as you whined and called his name, what it would feel like to finally be inside you… He’d certainly thought on it in quieter moments of the evening enough… *** Tonight your report was late. Not for no good reason; you had a lot of data to review. Galen kept sending you updated laser figures to get you as close as possible with your final vectors. Oh, you had no doubt that the Kyber could take it. You’d given a wide berth for the perimeters; but still, you wanted to check and triple check. On your head be it if you didn’t and everything went wrong. Still you wanted to stop by Krennic’s office to let him know why it would be late, as you always seemed to bring it to him around this time these days.

Krennic looked up as you walked in, without even knocking, but he hardly cared about that. His eyes narrowed at the lack of papers in your arms. “Where is my report?” Your face scrunched a little, “If you’d let me get a word out Director, I would tell you. I have a lot of data back from Galen that I want to check and double check before I send it over to you. I want to give you as accurate data and results as possible. So it’ll probably be late, or later than it has been these past few weeks.” Krennic tilted his head, eyebrow raised “Late?” He didn’t sound very appreciative. “Only about as ‘late’ as used to be normal.” He rose from his chair, and those blue eyes locked on yours, “Late-late bedtime reading? This from a woman who says I should be going to bed earlier.” “This once!” You protested as he rounded his desk. “You think that’s good enough?” You didn’t understand why he’d be mad at you, and Krennic didn’t sound mad… but the words he was using… “Well I didn’t think you’d mind.” “Oh, believe me, I mind.” “I-” You were about to tell him you were sorry - although really you had nothing to be sorry for - but he didn’t stop beside you. Instead Krennic stood behind you, a little too close for your liking.

You froze immediately as his voice lowered to a whisper, reaching out to brush a lock of hair behind your ear. The scrape of leather against your skin made you shiver, and you only wished it was his fingertips. You bit back your moan. “I am alone in my quarters after 2200 hours, it sounds like I’ll have data to review with you: that’s an order.” You swallowed unsure of the kind of response he wanted, “Yes, Sir.” slipped out of your mouth and he seemed satisfied. “Good girl. I want it on paper, as you’ve been doing recently.” “Yes, Sir.” “Well then…” He stepped away from you and you realised that you’d barely breathed for the past few minutes, “You best get to it, hadn’t you?” “Yes, Sir.” What was wrong with you!? Was that all you could say!? When you turned around he’d already moved away, crossing the room. “Good. Now go. And don’t make me wait, Y/N.” Krennic glanced over his shoulder at you, blue eyes burning, “As I’m sure you know by now, I am not a patient man.” *** You had to admit the pressure was on now. Because you did really want to present him with a decent report. (Just in case he wasn’t messing with you and he would be pissed if you didn’t turn up at 2200 with the correct figures.) And you sat back in the lab speed typing your way to the end whilst also trying to be as careful about Galen’s calculations as possible. You were right of course, his new figures still worked perfectly within your own. You looked at the clock, 2130. And the Director had told you not to be late. You printed the report and rushed back to your quarters; your heart was beating on overdrive. Was this about to be the encounter you’d always imagined? The throbbing ache between your thighs you’d also been trying (and failing) to ignore since he’d brushed his fingers to your skin earlier certainly hoped so. You barely had time for a quick shower to freshen up, but you took it anyway before changing and spraying yourself with that same perfume you’d been dousing your reports in, and hoping you wouldn’t run into anyone in the two corridors that you would have to traverse.

You checked yourself in the mirror as you gathered the hard copy of the report and your datapad for back up. You looked flushed, but still pretty at least. Taking a deep breath to calm yourself for your walk - you had a feeling you were about to end up being even more so… You paused suddenly and turned to the window; the colour of space had suddenly caught your eye. Purples and blues fogged in front of you, instead of the usual endless rolling black flecked with stars. It shimmered every so often and you recognised it instantly. ‘An Ion storm is coming…’ you breathed. You hadn’t noticed because your lab had no windows, but you were overjoyed that you hadn’t missed it. You allowed yourself to marvel it for a few seconds more before you realised you were about to make yourself late. Padding down the corridors you were pleased to see that there was no-one on route and you reached his room at exactly 2159. You waited for that minute to tick over, and at 2200, you knocked.

“Enter.” Krennic’s voice called you, with a sultry edge to it. And you bit your lip gently. At the sound of his voice his door slid open, and beckoned you inside. *** If you thought your room was spacious and had a generous window, this one was something else. Krennic’s quarters had a window that swept almost the entire far end of the room, and your eyes couldn’t help but be drawn to those vibrant purples and blues again. The lighting was fairly dimmed but you recognised it as ambiance; Krennic was setting a mood here. That feeling stirred once more in the pit of your stomach and you swallowed hard, the room had all the amenities, and you wondered why the hell he even wanted an office as well as this. Probably because he didn’t want everyone in his room, you guessed, but he had a desk and everything here. You scanned across the room to the bed; at least king sized, the sheets looked comfortable and luxurious. Why didn’t that surprise you either.

Footsteps approached from your left and Krennic swept around the corner from whatever had been keeping him occupied. He halted, immediately tipping his head to survey your body - instinctively you pulled the papers up to your chest and hugged them close. “I-I believe you asked me here to take you through a data review, Sir. And I made sure to print them all.” He hadn’t even traced his way up to your face yet and that smile became a grin, became a smirk. Krennic stepped forward - bless you for actually printing the damn report. He held his hand out, “Indeed I did.” You offered up the paperwork and he walked back to his desk, beckoning you to follow him. He could already smell the perfume on the documents, biting back a low moan. He had no intention of reading them tonight. In fact you hadn’t even sprayed the documents with your perfume, but there was so much of it on you that when you’d held them close it couldn’t help but transfer across. Krennic set them, and your datapad, down on his desk and turned back to you, now a little further into the room. Your hair was down to natural length and framed your face delicately. There were no shoes on your feet either. But your dress… oh… Ending just appropriately long enough to cover everything, the silk slip dress - in your favourite colour, Krennic remembered - plunged pretty low, thin straps looped over your shoulders and, he couldn’t see yet, but it had a low back too. At least you were dressed appropriately for where your evening was going to go. Krennic swallowed, aware of his own arousal as he made his way slowly back over to you, again, instead of stopping in front of you he rounded your body. Where he was close the cape brushed against your bare skin and you had to bite your lip hard not to whimper. Why was just the feel of it so sexy? Was it really the thought of being covered in it and nothing else? Would he wear it if you asked him to…? No, maybe not for your first time together… you didn’t think he’d want you making too many demands of him.

“I checked the weather for today and it looks like there will be a good ion lightning storm in the area. We can’t exactly move out of its way so… I thought you might like to observe…” “You remember a lot of things about me, Director… this one I might just have to thank you for.” Even as he disappeared behind you again you kept your eyes front on space, although you couldn’t help but be curious if he was going to touch your hair again. It hadn’t escaped your notice that he was finally gloveless. I really AM like a repressed maiden! He halted, and somehow it felt like he was even closer than before; was Krennic’s breath on the back of your neck just your imagination? You shivered involuntarily and even if you couldn’t see him, you could picture that smirk. His voice was at a husky whisper, already threatening to drive you wild. You didn’t dare press your thighs together, despite your desperation. “This dress is certainly not regulation uniform, and as per the rules, that would mean it needs to be removed.” You didn’t even get the chance to wonder if Krennic was going to do it himself as his large hands rested on your shoulders for a moment. You couldn’t help but tense; it seemed like such a foreign concept, his bare skin touching yours. You wondered if his hands would be calloused with all the work he did. He certainly didn’t mind getting dirty. But he was an architect at heart, and his hands seemed pretty smooth, assured, and warm… he was so warm… Krennic caressed his fingertips over you and you really couldn’t have helped that small whine even if you’d have tried. You were still picturing that delicious little smirk in your head, and you wanted to kiss it off. Patience… At this rate you’ll be getting to do more than that... His fingers slid under the straps, pulling them off your shoulders agonisingly slow, but Krennic didn’t attempt to help the fabric down your body, instead he just let it fall. It pooled around your feet and you swallowed hard again, hearing the slight chuckle in his voice before he tsked you. “You didn’t think to wear anything underneath?” “Well I thought about it, but-” You gasped as his hand grasped your waist, sliding down to your hip, his other brushing your hair back to expose your neck. Krennic’s first kiss wasn’t even tentative; but it was teasing and you shook under his touch. He smirked into your neck as he continued to kiss a trail. You bit back a groan, closing your eyes to the sensation of his lips on your skin, sighing for certain as his tongue ran over you. Had you told him this too? Or did he really know far too much… Finally having him kiss you after all this time was something that you almost found indescribable, and the heat between your thighs made you press them together as discreetly as possible - he’d get there you were sure of it, but that ache demanded attention. Krennic inhaled - and somehow that perfume smelled even better on your skin. He growled, grazing his teeth over your jugular, pulling your body back into his. “Oh… Y/N… you smell so good.” You gasped again as this time his arms locked around your waist to hold you in place; so close that his cape once again brushed your skin, you simply lay your hands over his. His still clothed body pressed up against yours felt simply divine and you knew Krennic was about to drive you insane, on purpose. As those kisses to your neck became a little hotter - and you started to imagine all the marks about to be left on your body - you couldn’t resist tipping your head back to sigh his name. You couldn’t be sure which he wanted to hear, but surely he would tell you if it was his first name. Maybe he didn’t want his lovers to call him that… you remembered your promise not to become just one on a list, but you didn’t want to think too hard on that right now. Much more enjoy the moment. You leant your body weight back against him, suddenly feeling tiny in his large hands. He smirked into your skin again, pulling back, one hand coming back up to turn your face to his.

“My, my… You’re already so flushed and… responsive.” That little smirk was so gorgeous you had second thoughts about kissing it off. You were already aware of how heavy you were breathing. Krennic bit his lip and somehow that made him sexier, “Have you thought about this?” You nodded, hardly seeing the point of lying. “A lot?” You knew the blush on your cheeks was only getting deeper as you nodded again. Krennic chuckled, “At least I’m not the only one…” He held you in place by your chin, “Whatever your fantasies are, you can tell me. But I can promise I’ll be better.” He studied your face intently, “Would you like me to kiss you, Y/N?” You wondered if that was a stupid question, eyes flicking to his lips and back to that intense stare he was giving you, “Y-Yes.” Surprisingly his kiss wasn’t as rough as they had been to your neck, but he showed no mercy when deepening it, and his tongue wasn’t about to let yours assert any dominance. You could taste hints of alcohol and caffeine, and something sweet - although you could hardly remember what they were serving in the canteen now. When Krennic finally released your lips to let you breathe, you were panting even harder - how was it possible to feel that power even in his kisses; you were going to be completely at his mercy all night and right now it was a delightful prospect. The wealth of experience he had meant he could surely show you a thing or two. The next graze of his lips to yours was fleeting, and he drew from you a whine. By his smile exactly what Krennic wanted. His hands wandered as he pressed a kiss into your shoulder, down the run of the pulse in your neck and over your clavicles to your breasts. Keeping those steely blue eyes on yours you were hardly able to look away as his fingertips brushed over your sensitive nipples. Even your attempts to stifle your groans didn’t work and you closed your eyes to his touch as he circled his fingertips around one. “You are so fucking beautiful…” He nudged your head gently with his own to expose your neck to him once more, “And you sound fucking beautiful too…” “K-Krennic…” You mumbled his name again, once again fixating on his fingertips as he moved them across to your other breast, repeating the same teasing circular motion before he kneaded you. You thought you’d read somewhere that you could orgasm just from this - and right now you’d believe it; feeling that sticky sweetness on your inner thighs. At this rate you weren’t going to last until Krennic touched you there. “Maybe we’ll have to make this your regulation uniform.” His voice was husky, “I’m sure I could have that rule changed just for you.” You shuddered again as he pinched your nipple between his fingers playfully, “Would you like that?” “O-Only f-or you.” You might as well go for it; he might as well know exactly how you felt. “Ahhhh!” Krennic vocalised like he’d just figured it all out, “Should I just keep you here? Or in my office? I hold a great many meetings there, though… I’m not sure I would like them all staring at you in your uniform.” He growled into the next kiss he placed to your skin, “I get jealous too, you know?” Well you did now.

Krennic straightened himself to full height, still supporting your weight his hands travelled down your body agonizingly slow; almost as if he was committing every inch of you to his memory. You already knew he liked details - and he was an architect; so it was Krennic’s business to know detail. Just how much could he remember about a lover? How much of you were you prepared for him to discover about you. His fingertips traces over your ribs, down and across your bellybutton and just below your stomach when he paused and his eyes left you. For a moment you’d quite forgotten that you were in the middle of an ion storm, and you wondered what exactly had dragged his attention away from you. The illumination of his face in the first strike of lightning made you gasp. And all you could think of was those eyes in the rainstorm on Eadu. The first time you’d ever seen him, an image that still haunted you. That was no doubt responsible for you now being naked in his arms like this. You turned to the window to watch the lightning for a moment too, flashing across the purples, blues and pinks of the cloud. “Isn’t it beautiful.” You breathed gently, and you heard him chuckle, “I don’t think you’ve looked in a mirror.” This time he pressed his kiss to your temple, and it was almost sweet. But now Krennic had you distracted by the storm - so his fingers traced lower and before you knew it he was pressing down gently on your clit. Your body gave a lurch into his and he growled again. Moving his fingers into your folds, you moaned head tipped back onto his shoulder, “Krennic…” “I knew you wanted me, Y/N, but like this?” His fingers moved through your wetness, teasing your entrance for a moment, and making you shudder, moaning his name again. “I can see that desire in your eyes wasn’t lying…” Krennic was smirking again as he watched you react to his fingertips, dragging them back towards your clit, “How many times have you been this wet around me, hmm? How many times have you thought of me doing this? Do you touch yourself and think about me? Is that what you do?” “Y-Yes-” Your thoughts were hardly coherent at this point, and as soon as his fingers touched your clit again, in teasing circles, you cried out; “Oh, Krennic, please!” “What else do you do to yourself when you think about me, hm?” He put a little more pressure on your clit as he rubbed it, “What do you think about? Me touching you like this? Or me fucking you? What set you off, hmmm? All that water-cooler chat? Believe me I know what they say... How would you like me to do it, Y/N? Do you want me to try to be gentle, or do you want it rough?” As if you really cared; your body shuddered again and you attempted to help the friction by closing your thighs once more, ache becoming a throb. “Uh uh.” His foot jammed between yours and forced your legs to widen for him, “I don’t like cheaters, Y/N.” You moaned once more as those little circles got faster and rougher, “Please, please! Krennic I’m begging you…” You whined, and your voice shook as you could feel that pleasure building, he couldn’t stop now. You wouldn’t let him, “Do whatever you want to me… just fuck me.” He nipped the top of your ear this time, “The pleasure will be all mine.” This time as the lightning flashed it illuminated your body, and Krennic was right, your dips and curves were flawless, you looked ready for him, you felt ready for him… like you were made for this very moment. Krennic moved his fingertips faster - and this time he pushed his body into yours. Your gasp at his grind into you was for one obvious reason; you could feel how hard he was getting. Oh, fuck... Your body shuddered once more and you mewled, positive that you were even wetter now. He knew it too, by that chuckle. “Oh? You want me don’t you? I know you know how wet you are… You want me so fucking bad…” That husky whisper was driving you crazy and you knew Krennic wasn’t going to let up on it, “You feel so hot, so fuckable… Oh, Y/N, I can’t wait to be inside you, but you’ll have to wait for that.” This time your groan was a little strangled, “That’s it, be a good girl… cum for me.”

If it wasn’t what he was doing to you it was his voice alone that sent that shot of pleasure right through you, burning head to toe with no mercy. You cried out again, but this time it was his first name you used - and you hoped he didn’t care. Panting as you felt the sweat begin to gather on your skin. Your legs shook a little but he held you strong. “Good girl.” He removed his fingertips from your clit, once again pressing a kiss to your neck, “But, you know as well as I that this is hardly over…” You rested your body against his chest for a minute, and he carded his fingers through your hair; it was almost soothing as Krennic twisted it between his fingers, “How about we use the bed now, hmm?”

“…Y…Yes…” You could only hazily agree, would he actually fuck you now? You were throbbing again - sure he’d said he wanted to be inside you, but did he know how much you needed him inside you? “Go on,” Krennic pushed you forward with his hand to the small of your back, you stumbled a little but didn’t fall and he observed your walk, the curves of your ass - the lingering of your arousal on your thighs. “Hands down.” He followed you across the floor - he was aware of how uncomfortable he felt, with heat in just the right places, and the way his pulse was running just to look at you. But he had to take this slow. The goal wasn’t just to bed you, it was to erase every other man from your memory too, so that he was your one and only waking thought.

You had to admit your confusion, but placed your hands out on the sheets in front of you to support your body, Krennic made you keep your feet on the floor and for a second you wondered if this was how he was going to do it. It seemed like a waste of a good bed, but your brain was hardly running your feelings here and that throb between your legs was so desperate for something that you didn’t care how you got it. Instead of hearing him shed clothing, or even just undo his zipper, Krennic’s fingers ran your spine. He really was about to commit every inch of you to memory, you weren’t kidding, before he traced them over your ass. You were half expecting him to slap you, but that didn’t happen either. In fact his fingers went right back to your wetness, and you shivered again; Krennic’s movements this time were less teasing as he pushed his fingers into you; you cried out - he didn’t even bother with one at a time. But at least there was something dulling that ache for a second; although you knew what your body really craved. The storm illuminated everything in the room, and far more regularly than before, as his fingers pumped in and out of you. The hums he was making were satisfied, and part of you wished you could see what they looked like crossing his face. In fact the thought that you might not get to see his face almost disappointed you. But you realised something else, the colours the storm were throwing everywhere, the very sound of it - with how much you enjoyed them anyway - and Krennic here with you, was only serving to turn you on even more. And he noticed. “Oh?” This sounded almost curious, “So lightning makes you even more wet, or is that just me?” You swallowed hard, against the feeling of his fingers stretching you, you were desperate for him to get naked now. “To… be honest, no-one has ever fucked me in a lightning storm.” “Huh. Maybe they should have tried, I figure they’re missing out.” You whined again, “Krennic please… please… I can’t take much more of this… fuck, I… I need you.”

You weren’t sure if Krennic did it because he was listening to your plea, or if he was simply just ready to do it himself, but the next thing you knew he’d removed his fingers from you and flipped your body so you were now on your back, on the bed. And as your eyes locked with his you realised exactly what you would have been missing out on. Although serious, those eyes were so incredibly dark and lust rimmed, and hungry for your body, that you thought you might come undone again right then and there. He placed his thumb delicately against your lips for a second, tracing them, before smirking again, “Open your mouth.” You blinked, but finding no reason not to do what he asked, your lips parted, tongue grazing his fingertip. Krennic immediately smirked, “That’s a good girl.” Before he slid the two fingers that had just been inside you, into your mouth. You moaned gently at the sensation. “I bet you taste so good, don’t you?” You could feel yourself blushing again, unsure exactly how to respond to that besides another muffled moan. He withdrew them, eyes narrowed even though he was smiling.

“And you do exactly what I say…” Krennic drew himself back to height, dragging his eyes down your body and as he did so he reached up to his shoulders, undoing the fastenings for his cape. Oh, you were going to get to watch Krennic undress? You moved to help him, but his eyes raised back to your face - and this time the bright white flash made those eyes of crystal blue let you know that he wanted you to stay absolutely still. “You look ready for me darling. Are you?” You nodded, hoping that the look on your face was as pleading as you thought it was. “Born ready for me…” Krennic’s voice this time sent chills through you with how commanding it was, “Mine.” You watched the cape fall to the floor and wished again for that silky texture to brush against your skin, perhaps you would ask him again later. He undid his tunic and shrugged himself out of it; Krennic wasn’t exactly bothering to put on a show for you - but it still felt like one, running his hands through his hair with a breath out before he undid his shirt. Slower now, button by button as he looked into your eyes, that little teasing smile on his face only made your lips part. This man was so gorgeous. And you were here, in his quarters, in his bed. You out of the many hundreds of women on this Battle Station - and all of them beautiful - Director Orson Krennic wanted you. He threw his shirt behind him too, before settling his hands on his waistband. You studied him for just long enough, he was built more toned than chiselled, and his arms and chest were particularly defined; there was a scar on his left-hand side, just above his heart, and you wondered what the story was with that. Maybe in a quieter moment you would ask, but that was not a story for right now. You traced back to where his fingers were waiting for you to take him all in and this time you bit your lip, you’d already felt him against you but you still weren’t sure you were adequately prepared… Undoing his zip with as much tease as his buttons Krennic let his pants and boxers fall at the same time. Your eyes widened, and you swallowed hard ‘Oh, holy shit...’ Your heartbeat picked up pace and you felt yourself clench greedily just at the sight of him. You bit your lip a little harder and raised your eyes back up Krennic’s body to his face, “I want to let you know - although it sounds like you do know - that every single one of those rumours is SO fucking true.” He smirked, “I might have started one or two of them myself.” You almost laughed, “Why doesn’t that surprise me?” He gave a shrug, “Well darling, don’t we all want to project the best version of ourselves?” Krennic joined you on the bed, settling himself between your thighs again, pulling your legs around him, “Now I’m going to prove the rest of them true, whilst also letting you in on some things you don’t know.”

You had every right to moan as loud as you did as he pushed into you, feeling completely filled right away. Definitely true - part of you felt you might be smirking very broadly into your coffee in the mornings from now on. Instead of covering your body Krennic stayed in that kneeling position with your legs crossed behind him, hands gripping your thighs and nails digging into your skin. You almost wanted his nails to leave marks, for there to be bruises that lingered for more than just a few days where he gripped you - just to prove it had really happened. If this is a dream please don’t ever let me wake up. He growled as you adjusted to each other, voice husky once more, “You’re so tight.” Your sigh came out a little choked with your breathing as - at first - he moved slow, hands gilding softly over your skin as he lay his palms flat. But he still had enough pressure on you; Krennic was still in control. Right now, being in control was the last thing you were thinking of.

Those slow movements of his were a facade, but they had you already moaning - body tingling as you got used to the feelings of Krennic being inside you. You wondered if you should be trying to be quiet? How many other senior officers had rooms around Krennic’s that could potentially hear this - did Krennic even care? What if they knew it was you though? You weren’t necessarily sure you wanted the reputation that might come with being Krennic’s bed mate, even if it really was only going to be tonight. As if he knew what you were thinking Krennic pushed into you a little harder, causing you to cry out a little louder than before - no point in holding back. “Let me hear you, Y/N. Let me hear those delicious little moans of yours. You can be as loud as you want here, I won’t tell anyone…” He smirked, “You might as well let yourself - because this is going to be the best orgasm of your life, or it’s going to be nothing. I don’t do half measures.” That seemed like an odd form of encouragement, but hot enough to get you mewling again. And he didn’t slow his pace. Instead Krennic dug his nails back into your skin, thrusting into you harder and rougher. You arched your back up, pushing your hips into his to take him deeper and deeper. Usually you weren’t so loud during sex, but with your eyes closed to the ecstasy of it all, each thrust received a moan that steadily grew louder and louder until you were pleading him: “Oh, Krennic… Oh please, more… Harder, Sir, please… please don’t stop…” This was clearly only urging him on as he found another notch in his pace. You might be one for thinking this was the best sex you’d ever had as you opened your eyes to focus on him once more; Krennic’s skin was starting to get that dewy look as sweat started to build, leaving his hair to look a darker shade of grey. And that lightning… oh, that lightning. Watching that storm behind him made the pleasure even more intense. The backdrop was stunning to an already flawless view - what more could you possibly ask for?

His sex was deliciously rough, and it was all you could do to watch his body, the way his muscles moved with each thrust, the tension running from his shoulders, down his arms, through his fingers and the little indents from his nails you could see in your skin. You almost wanted those fingers back inside you again too. Krennic growled as that thought led to you clenching around him: “What are you thinking about?” You looked to his face, obviously you were already flushed, but if it were possible to turn a deeper shade of red you were now. “...Please…” You voice wavered and you realised where this was all heading, “Please Krennic harder… Please I want to- I want to- let me cum for you.” That smirk was just plain dirty, and as he placed one hand under you to raise your hips a little more his next thrust found your sweet spot. You cried out even louder - hit with a shot of pleasure more intense than any you thought you’d ever felt. “Fuck-! Director-! Please!” He chuckled, “I have a first name, Y/N, you can use it.” Did he want you to use it? Did he ask everyone he took to bed to use it? You gasped again as white-hot heat shot through you head to toe and your legs locked around him, pulling him even deeper as you tipped your head back. And he knew as well as you did: “That’s a good girl, that’s my good girl.” Krennic continued to thrust into you until you had to squeeze your eyes shut, head tipped back you very nearly screamed his first name as your body shook and you came undone.

 Your short, sharp pants didn’t really have any time to become afterglow, or some slow paced ‘love making’ for him to ride into his own high. Oh no, Krennic wasn’t finished with you yet - and although he lingered at a slower pace for a little - you could feel yourself building up again, heightened by the climax you had just felt. There was a mischievous glint in his eyes and you got the feeling that Krennic was not about to be termed a selfish lover. But a possessive one; your body was his, and he wasn’t finished with you yet. You cried out as he took that pace up again, you could feel him getting harder inside you, every little twitch as he continued those rough thrusts. “You ready for more?” You nodded weakly, moaning again, this would be the third time in one evening. Even if these two were in quick succession. “Yes what?” The commanding tone in his voice and the way he squeezed your thighs a little harder made you shake again, “Yes, Orson. Please… please, baby… I- I’m ready.” As you said his name this time Krennic pushed his body forward so that his hands rested above your shoulders, catching your lips in a harsh kiss. Your hands immediately shot to his arms, over those toned shoulders, and your fingers tangled in his hair. This time his kisses swallowed your moans, and the higher in pitch they got the more he knew you were ready to let go again. With him all over you like this, the scent of that cologne filled your senses. Krennic thrusted into you one last time and let you cry out into his shoulder. He could probably go a little longer - but he’d build you up to that in due time, he couldn’t ruin you on your first time with him. As you clenched around him, just as greedily as before, Krennic growled - hot breath in your ear as your own ecstasy became his. And now you were his too.

He let you continue to embrace him as you both panted, moving his own hands to gently caress your sides, your stomach and your thighs. Although the only sound was your breathing, and you could barely think of anything else, hands carding through his hair and watching those beautiful blue eyes focus on nothing in particular. Until the lighting strike flashed closer to you than before, causing him to look out the window. You followed his line of sight. “It really is gorgeous…” You weren’t sure if that muse was supposed to come out of Krennic’s mouth, but it made you smile. “Mhm… And I need to have sex in storms more often.” He chuckled, turning back to you and kissing your neck, softly, “Well, you know who to call.” Krennic pulled out of you gently, smirking again to see yours and his arousal lingering on your inner thighs. His. Before he lay next to you, eyes still on the storm.

You wondered what the best thing to do now was, as your high unwound. Ironically you didn’t think your body had been this relaxed in a while either. Should you leave? Should you make the decision to leave him before he kicked you out himself? You wondered if that was the polite thing to do. You didn’t know if Krennic was the type to really sleep with someone. When he would be at his most vulnerable. You weren’t sure he would want to show that side of himself to anyone. You decided you would show willing, and would let him know that you would leave if that’s what Krennic wanted - you weren’t about to outstay your welcome. Instead, Krennic did the unexpected and, finally settling down in the sheets, he pulled you into his arms, showering you with delicate kisses and touches. Aftercare... You snuggled into his body, sighing in sleepy content and closed your eyes as he pulled the sheets further around you. Did you dare believe this was happening - No, and yet it was. You were really here, in the Director’s arms. And he wanted you to stay. Krennic pressed a kiss to your forehead, and you could already feel yourself drifting off in his arms: “We’ll review your report in the morning.” *** When you awoke, the lights in his room were up to their brightest day setting. Krennic’s free hand was wandering over your thighs absentmindedly as he lay on his back, your datapad in his other. You tried to concentrate on that small smile on his face, those blue eyes of his, just how good he looked comfortable and relaxed, and out of uniform. You hadn’t noticed the collection of freckles across his chest in the dark of the storm last night either. Suddenly you wanted this moment to last forever, no matter now impossible. This coupled with the travel of his hands, even at this time in the morning, was making you sigh blissfully.

Krennic’s eyes flicked from what he was reviewing to your face as he turned his head slowly. “This report is good. Perfect, even. The ion storm messed with some systems last night, that can’t be helped. But we should all be back online to work later. I agree with your data, consider it reviewed.” Your head tipped curiously. “Systems are down? So…” You bit your lip wickedly, “We don’t have to leave?” Krennic placed your datapad on his bedside table and rolled over, hand moving to between your thighs, he could read that mischievous little smirk of yours perfectly. “Not until much later if I have anything to say about it.” You blinked once slowly, opting to voice your single concern now, before anything got out of hand, it was a whisper that seemed so out of place. But maybe that made it the perfect time. “I don’t want to be just a one-time thing.” Krennic’s eyebrows knitted for a second, before he smiled gently, other hand moving to your face, caressing your cheek with his thumb before he tangled his fingers in your hair, bringing you back to his lips. “Trust me, that was never a consideration.”

---

Thank you SO much for reading, oh my gosh I’m slightly emotional over this one. I NEVER thought it’d be this long. And it’s 200. Like... there’s 200 of these things!? 

I didn’t think I would get past one. And it’s ALL because of you guys! 

Thank you for all your love and support - I know I keep saying it but I truly mean it. It means the world to me. 💙💜

She kills my self control - Chapter 15

/ This is the last chapter and it’s SPICYYYY. I can’t believe people are actually reading this?? y’ALL. Thank you so much!! I started writing for the first time in close to a decade last fall and the feedback I got on these has made me fall in love with writing again. 

When I feel like I finally caught my breath, I lift her face to mine and kiss her. It's slow and careful, as if my tongue cannot lie even when I use it to kiss her. I want to tell her I hate her, too. I want to tell her that this means nothing and that I'm over her now. I want to lie to her like she lies to me, but all I can do is further prove that I am stupidly in love with her.

nsfw as nsfw goes

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Chapter 15. You break my heart when you try to play nice

"Welcome to your new quarters, if you would have them."

I lean back against the door, arms crossed. Jude is glaring at me. Finding her when I left the revel had been quite the challenge. I ended up having to enlist a few guards to find her and lead her to Elowyn’s old rooms. I know they connect to the Court of Shadows—Dain would not have missed an opportunity to spy on one of his two main rivals to the throne— and thus make the perfect rooms for Jude.

"Congratulations, Jude Duarte," I drawl, "I hereby appoint you as my seneschal."

"Why," she replies dryly, more a demand than a question.

"I'm offering you a position in court. Isn't that what you always wanted? At least one of us will get what they want."

"You're High King, you can get anything you want."

"I didn't want to be High King," I growl, my anger rising once again at the reminder, "and you knew that. You betrayed my trust."

"And what is it that you want, Cardan?"

The question hits me like a punch in the gut. That is quite the question, isn't it? I want recognition, power, adoring folk at my feet. But I also want to be left alone, without the burden of a kingdom. I want to prove to Balekin and the rest of my dead family that I am not worthless, but I also want to leave Faerieland altogether and live far from the people who rejected me. 

I take a step towards her. She steps back. I take another step, and she is against the wall. I run a finger along her jawline to her chin and lift her face to meet my gaze. There is only one thing I want without a doubt, my desire to have her a contradiction in and of itself.

"You already know what I want. You made me tell you."

Jude flinches. I lean in to kiss the fading bruise on her cheek. I kiss her jaw, moving towards the ear. 

"Command me to stop," I plead, a breath away from her ear.

I should stop. I cannot.

She stays silent. I tug at her earlobe with my teeth and she lets out a soft gasp that is sure to haunt me for the rest of my days. I feel her hands fisting the fabric of my doublet, like she is trying to keep from touching me, but she does not stop me. I trail gentle kisses down her throat. For all my rage at being betrayed, I cannot help but admire the cunning she showed. How much does she distrust her father, for her to think me a better option for the throne? She knows how unfit I am, she has always seen through my mask.

"Cardan," she whispers softly.

I pull back to look at her, completely expecting her to command me to stop. I believed I would find hate in her gaze, anger or maybe the usual arrogance, but she only looks… tired. Maybe even vulnerable, or as close to it as she lets herself be. Before I can let my mind wander more, her lips brush against mine chastily. 

"Distract me," she orders, looking away from me.

I am walking a rope hung between two cliffs. One bad move and I she might push me to my death—and I would welcome it gladly. My heart is beating wildly in my chest, fear and excitement mingling in my mind. A smirk creeps on my lips.

"You'll have to be more precise, I can think of a few ways to distract you," I raise my brows and let my tail trail up her side. She swats at it.

"I hate you."

"I know."

Her hands tangle in my hair and our lips meet again, more urgently than before. Teeth and tongues clash and I can taste the poison once again. It's stronger than last time, as if my body is trying to tell me to stop.

Without breaking the kiss, she pushes me backwards, again and again until my knees hit the bed. I grip her hips and drag her down to sit above me. I am painfully aware that, in this new position, she can feel exactly how aroused I am. I expect her to ridicule me, to mock me like I often did to her. Instead, she surprises me by tearing off my shirt, buttons flying everywhere.

Jude tentatively moves against me. Again. Again. 

I have never had someone do this before, fully-clothed.

My hands travel to rest on her hips and I guide her to a faster, steady pace. We're not even touching, how can this feel so good? 

Quickly, too quickly, I get closer to finishing. I tighten my grip on her hips and stop her, my head thrown back. I hold her above me and take a few deep breaths.

"You'll be the end of me," I whisper through ragged breath.

I flip us around and pin her to the bed with my body. I kiss her hungrily as I let my hand travel up her leg, under her skirt. Her skin is burning under my touch, the curve of her thigh so undeniably human. I pull back to look at her, questioning, and she nods, her cheeks a bright red.

I can't help the groan that escapes my throat when I slide my finger over her underwear and feel how wet she is. For me, for me, for me. I get off the bed, kneel on the floor and pull her to the edge of the mattress. I make quick work of removing her underwear.

"Cardan, what are you d—," Jude stops herself when I dive under her skirts, kissing and biting the inside of her thigh, making my way up her leg slowly.

The scent of her arousal is stronger here than before, a heady perfume I could get high off. She whimpers as I suck a mark on the inside of her thigh and I reward her by licking up her slit. Though, I guess it is also a reward for myself to finally taste what I have been craving for months. She tastes so sweet and tangy, I could spend hours pleasuring her. I would gladly do it on my knees in front of the whole court, if she let me. I flick her clit with my tongue in short strokes, occasionally sucking at it, but nothing I do gives me those moans I so desperately crave. My hand snakes up to grab one of her breasts. Through the fabric, I pinch her nipple, eliciting a stifled moan. She's restraining herself, I realize.

I push her skirts up towards her waist so I can look at her. Indeed, she is biting down on her hand to silence her moans.

"Sing for me, Jude," I coax, "I want to hear you."

I want to hear you break.

I tease at her entrance with one of my fingers, testing her reaction. She has removed her hand from her face, but is still biting her lower lip. Defiant as ever. I plunge my finger in her and she gasps. Slowly, I stroke her inner walls, delighted at how slippery she is. I keep my eyes on Jude's as I feast, drinking in every little tell that she is letting go of her mask. She breathes out heavily from her parted lips and her brows are slightly furrowed. When I enter a second finger, her eyes roll back and she moans loudly.

I suck at her knot as I curl my fingers towards the spot I know will make her squirm. Her thighs twitch around me, tightening around my head before Jude's hand comes down to grab my hair. She is both pushing my head towards her and pulling me away, clearly not knowing what to do with her hands and fighting her own body.

Her thighs tighten around my head and she stops trying to pull me away, instead pushing me into her. I keep my pace steady. When I feel her walls pulse around my fingers, I suck on her clitoris before biting it once slightly. Her legs kick up as she comes with a cry, her whole body shaking with pleasure.

I keep stroking her slowly through the waves of her orgasm until she stills.

"How—," Jude starts, voice confused and breathless, "That… It never felt like this before when I…" 

She lets out a grunt of frustration, pushes me away and gets up. I climb on the bed and lay on it, a hand behind my head. If this is where we stop, it is more than I ever hoped for. But my mouth dries up as she reaches behind her back and undoes the laces of her bodice. She lets the dress drop to the floor, followed by her bra that she miraculously undoes with only one hand.

I swallow as I take her in, standing in front of me completely naked. My gaze trails her every scar and imperfection, admiring every way she differs from others I have seen before. From the hair and bruises on her legs to the way her stomach protrudes slightly and the ripples in her thighs, I know I could spend hours looking and still find more to worship. Her plump breasts fall with every breath she takes and a fine layer of sweat coats her body. I have to clamp my mouth shut to avoid blurting out the first thing that comes to my mind, the only truth I know undeniably in this moment: you're beautiful. With her looking down at me like that, her eyes filled with lust and anger, I cannot ignore my heart pounding wildly. What wouldn't I give to always be the target of that stare?

Jude straddles me once again, her hands making quick work of my pant laces. It turns out, bedding Jude Duarte is more akin to fighting than the frolicking of faeries. Power being given and taken, both parties refusing to let the other win.

"You're so eager, one would think you crowned me just to take a king to bed," I tease, because I'm nervous and I don't know what else to do.

"Shut up," she barks as she shifts to tug down my pants.

Jude takes my cock in her hand and I let out a hiss. Fuck, she's barely touching me and I melt like putty under her touch. She lines it up with her core and I inhale sharply as a knot of anticipation forms in my stomach.

"You always know what to say to piss me off," she slips down on me in one motion, her face scrunching in pain, "I hate you."

I throw my head back as I bottom out into her. I'm in Jude and in this moment, hate or not, Jude is mine and mine only and I am hers and nothing else matters. 

"Yes," I groan between ragged breaths, "Yes, Jude, tell me."

I gather some composure to look up at her. Jude is biting her lower lip again, brows knitted together, clearly still in pain. How very typical of Jude to go too fast and hurt herself all in order to keep control. I sit up, desperate to touch more of her, but also to soothe her. I kiss her collarbones and make my way up her neck as my hands rub  circles down her back, giving her time to get used to my size. 

"I hate that you're so good at hurting me."

She still refuses to look at me, but I keep my attention on her. I would be a fool to miss even a second of this.

"I could show you how good I am at pleasuring you, if you would let me," I nibble at her ear and continue in a whisper, "I have so many ideas when it comes to you."

She glares at me and I give her the best grin I can manage at the moment—which is to say, probably more of a dumb-stuck smile than anything with a bite. Finally, Jude starts moving, slowly. I reach around to rest my hands on her soft buttocks, nails digging in slightly. Yes, this is real, not a dream. 

"I hate that you know what you're doing and I don't."

Jude moves up and down in a steady, agonizingly slow pace. It's torture in the best possible way. I can't find it in myself to fight back when her body is pressed so closely against mine, my head buried between her breasts, nibbling and sucking at the soft flesh.

"You're doing amazing."

Her hand shots up and she pushes me back down. Immediately, she wraps that same hand around my throat.

"I hate that you never shut up."

My lips part as I let out a sigh. She's applying just enough pressure for my vision to grow blurry, yet not enough to knock me unconscious. Once again, I am reminded that Jude is something else. Nobody has ever dared put their hands to my throat during sex, no matter how pleasurable it is. Most would assume it a crime punishable by death to threaten a Prince so, let alone the High King. I let my tail brush against her arm and wrap against her wrist, letting her know I want her hand there.

Jude is fucking herself on me in earnest now, her pace fast and even. I reach out to rub quick circles at the apex of her thighs, eliciting a loud moan. I can't take my eyes away from her, breathtakingly beautiful and powerful above me. Using me. 

"Judejudejude" I chant in time as I thrust up to meet her pace, my voice broken and weak, "come for me, Jude"

I quicken my ministrations on her clit, desperate to make her cum, to be the one to give her another orgasm. She comes with a cry, one I wish I could devour out of her. Instead, I am still pinned under her with her hand at my throat. As she rides her high, she unconsciously tightens her grip and dark stains cloud my vision. It's enough for me to follow her over that edge, pleasure rippling into me in waves. I grip her hips hard enough to bruise as I spend in her, her name tumbling out of my lips in a strangled whimper.

Jude lets go of my throat when I still and she collapses on my chest. Instinctively, I wrap my arms around her, one of my hands brushing through her hair gently. I know she will soon remember herself and pull away, but until then I am determined to enjoy the warmth of her and the contrast of her tanned skin on mine. When I feel like I finally caught my breath, I lift her face to mine and kiss her. It's slow and careful, as if my tongue cannot lie even when I use it to kiss her. I want to tell her I hate her, too. I want to tell her that this means nothing and that I'm over her now. I want to lie to her like she lies to me, but all I can do is further prove that I am stupidly in love with her.

She leans into it for a moment, until I shift my head slightly and my lashes brush against her cheek. Her eyes snap open and she pushes me away. Jude gets up and grabs her discarded dress, holding it to her chest to hide herself. As if the image of her naked wasn’t burned in my mind forever.

"So was this whole Seneschal thing just a weird euphemism?" she accuses with a snarl.

I roll my eyes. Any trace of the bliss I have seen on her face in the last hour is gone, replaced by her usual defiant glare. I love it just as much.

"You will be controlling my every decision, I thought you might as well do it openly."

I watch as Jude turns away from me and puts her dress back on, not even bothering to do the laces of her bodice. She paces around the room for a while, then turns back to me.

"Fine," she barks out and crosses her arms, "I'll do it."

A smile tugs at my lips. For the first time since I have been crowned, I don’t feel overwhelmed. Perhaps with her by my side, I can do this.

Everything will be alright.

As long as Jude is with me.

Landslide: Chapter Three

Word Count: 7.2k

Summary: Reader revisits the life that she and Javier once shared together. Javier seeks to escape his father’s haunting words. 

Warning(s): Angst, Alcohol Use/Drunkenness 

A/N: So it’s only been three days since I posted Ch2, but here you go anyways. I put my heart and soul into this chapter, and I just hope that you guys are really able to connect with it and feel something when you read it. It’s a lot of angst, but this is a really important chapter, and a bit of a turning point for Javier and Reader. Thank you all so, so much for the lovely responses that I have gotten for this series. It really means the world to me. I reread the comments all the time because I just can’t believe that you all are enjoying this so much. So from the bottom of my heart, thank you 💙 And a special thank you to both @aerynwrites and @bestintheparsec for reading this chapter over before I published it. The amount of stupid mistakes you guys caught for me is astounding. Thank heavens I’ve got you or this would be some serious clownery 😂❤️ I love you both endlessly!

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Chapter One, Chapter Two

(Gif by @pascvl​, originally from this post) Please let me know if you’d rather me not use the gif. I’ll remove it immediately! No questions asked.

You shake your head as your mother brings over another box of old junk to sort through. “Mom, promise me you’ll never hoard things like this again,” you tease, chuckling softly and rolling your eyes. You then take a seat next to her on the floor of the attic, ready to help her sort through the items.

“Now you just listen,” she starts, “Some of this stuff can make us a few bucks in the community yard sale.”

“You’re gonna need your own entire estate sale to get rid of all this,” you reply, pulling out the heavy case at the top of the box. It immediately catches your eye, and you laugh as you realize what it is. “I think everything in here is mine,” you tell her, beginning to unzip the aged leather case.

Your mother searches the surface of the cardboard box, looking up at you again when she finds what she’s looking for. “Ah, yes!,” she confirms, “This is some of the stuff we boxed up after you left for San Antonio, when you were working as a secretary for that law firm.”

You open the case, smiling when you see the old typewriter it holds. Dust covers every inch of the little machine, and you giggle softly as you press down on a few of the keys, causing the strikers to shoot up, though there’s no paper for them to mark. “I remember when I got this. It was the first one I had for myself. Dad was so happy I wasn’t using his all the time.” You zip up the case and set it aside. The task of cleaning things out for the yard sale has been forgotten.

“Oh, yes. He would gripe at me all the time, telling me you needed to quit using all of his paper and ink,” your mother tells you, laughing right along with you. She reaches into the box next, pulling out a rather large photo album. She puts it on the floor between you, and you feel a light blush come to your cheeks as she starts to go through all of the pictures she has from your childhood. You remember well that she always had her camera out. She never wanted to miss the opportunity to capture a memory, no matter how silly it might have seemed in the moment.

The two of you go on that way for some time, flipping through the pages of the album. You listen to her as she tells you the stories behind many of the pictures, from times that you were too young to remember. It’s nice, being able to indulge in more lighthearted nostalgia–certainly a welcome change from the more painful memories that you’ve been forced to relive in the last couple of weeks.

Once you’ve gone through the photo album, you continue to pull random things from the box. More long-forgotten trinkets from your teen and college years. It’s nearly an hour later that you make it to the bottom, where you find one last treasure. It’s a shoebox, though as you lift it, you’re not sure what it contains. It’s only when you bring it closer to you that you can read the words on the lid.

Javier - Mi Corazón

You stare at those three words for what feels like a lifetime. They’re written in your elegant handwriting with a thick black marker. You lightly trace the flourished “J” of his name with your finger. You remember the day you put it all together, and you know already a bit of what you’ll find when you open the box.

Your breath hitches in your throat, and at your silence your mother leans closer. She frowns when she too reads what’s on the box. “Give that here, love. I’ll put it away. I’m sorry. I forgot I packed it away in here with everything else,” she says quickly, her tone soft and sorrowful. But you only tighten your hold on the box as she tries to take it from you.

“No,” you tell her, “I want to look at it.” Logically, you know that you’ll only cause yourself more pain by looking through the memories of what your life used to look like with Javier, but you can’t stop yourself. You’ve spent ten years keeping any memory of him locked away. And now that he’s back, there’s nothing you can do to stop the flood as that once young, hopeful life comes rushing back to you.

“Well,” your mother sighs softly, “if you’re sure.” You can tell that she doesn’t like the idea. Since the day Javier left, she and your father have been a little more detached than you ever were. They’ve never blamed the Peñas or sought to shame them. But where you’ve only grown closer to the family, your parents have drifted apart.

You nod. “I am,” you murmur.

—

The shoebox feels much heavier than it truly is as you step into your apartment with it. After dropping your keys on the coffee table in the living room, you go straight back to your bedroom. You close the door behind you, though you know that there won’t be anyone to walk in on you as you willingly subject yourself to more pain.

You gingerly place the box on your desk, staring at it for a few moments as you second guess yourself. It would be so much easier to tuck it somewhere deep into your closet where you won’t find it again, not unless you really want to. You could bury those memories, ones that should be sweet but have been soured by time and circumstance. You could bury your love. You could bury the painful reminders of the man you would have followed to the ends of the earth.

You sit down in the chair and make your choice.

You open the box.

A soft gasp escapes your lips as you look inside, and immediately you feel your chest swell with an emotion that sits somewhere between nostalgia and regret. You can’t place it exactly. Taking a deep breath, you gently lift the first thing from the box. Dried petals crinkle between your fingers as you hold up your corsage from senior prom.

Your mother laughs softly as she walks over to you and Javier. He’s tried his best, but he just can’t get the ribbon tied around your wrist the right way. You giggle as your mother gently takes over, though as she ties the ribbon, your eyes never stray from Javi’s. You can see a light blush creeping up his neck, and you shake your head minutely. “It’s alright,” you mouth to him.

When your mother finally steps away, Javi takes your hand again, pulling you closer to him so that more pictures can be taken. You both hate the fussing, but know that it’s better to just endure it for the sake of your parents. Your mothers, especially, are excited to see the two of you off to the dance.

“Alright. Alright. That’s enough pestering the two of them. Let them go and enjoy their night,” Chucho finally says, and you let out a soft laugh. You can always trust him to come to the rescue.

“Thanks, Pops,” you say. Javier releases you then, giving you a moment to say a quick goodbye to your parents. Once you’ve given your mother a hug and your father a quick kiss on the cheek, you wave to Javi’s parents, then take his hand again. He leads you over to his father’s truck, which he’d so graciously agreed to let you borrow for the night.

Javi walks over to the passenger side with you, helping you up into the cab and making sure that your dress doesn’t get caught as the door is shut. He joins you inside of the truck shortly after, and you move a little closer to him on the bench seat.

“Sorry I couldn’t get the stupid corsage on,” he says, chuckling softly at himself. He lifts your arm, looking at the ribbon that your mother tied and shaking his head.  After a moment though, his eyes meet yours again, his gaze soft. Without breaking eye contact, he brings your hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles. “You look beautiful tonight, querida,” he murmurs shyly.

You smile softly at him, reaching out to straighten his bow tie. “You’re looking pretty dashing yourself, Javi,” you reply.

He rolls his eyes. “I’m glad you think so. I think this looks ridiculous. There’s a reason I don’t dress like this unless I have to,” he says, though he’s grinning as he speaks.

You press a quick kiss to his lips. “It’s just one night,” you tell him, “Now let’s go before we’re late.”

You let out a soft breath as you think about the rest of that night. The two of you hadn’t spent very long at the dance at all, opting instead to jump back into Chucho’s truck and drive somewhere more quiet. Rather than trying to enjoy yourselves in a dark, sweaty gymnasium filled with your classmates, Javier had driven to the top of a hill not far outside of town. With a perfect view of the softly illuminated town below you, the two of you slow danced for hours to one of the cassette tapes you’d found in the glovebox.

With a mirthless laugh, you wonder if the cassette tape is still there.

Setting the corsage aside, you look back into the box, pulling out a stolen menu from the diner just a couple of blocks from your childhood home. It was a place that you and Javier had frequented, especially during the late hours of the night when you didn’t have anything better to do than drink cheap milkshakes and steal french fries from each other’s plates.

You curse under your breath as Javier foils your plans again, scribbling a quick “X” into the top right corner of the grid, keeping you from winning what was easily the eighth game of tic-tac-toe you’d played in the last twenty minutes. “Damn you, Javi,” you say, tossing the pencil at him, though there’s a grin on your lips as you look across the booth at him.

“Lo siento, querida. But you know you’re not allowed to win,” he replies, catching the pencil against his chest and placing it back on the table. His smile is bright as ever as his eyes meet yours again.

You roll your eyes, picking up the pencil and pulling the menu closer to you. You write out a short note on it, then turn it around so Javi can read it.

You’re a pain in the ass, but I still love you.

Javi lets out a soft laugh, reaching over and taking the pencil from you. He writes something underneath your words, but shields it from your view with his forearm. Only when he’s done does he let you see.

The feeling is mutual, querida. There’s a little heart doodled next to it.

Your expression softens, and you feel your heart swell in your chest. You place both hands on the table, using them to brace yourself as you lean over the table. There’s a knowing look in Javi’s eyes, and he does the same, meeting you in the middle for a tender kiss. “Te quiero tanto, mi corazón,” he murmurs against your lips.

You close your eyes, leaning back further in the chair with the menu held firmly against your chest, close to your heart. A few moments pass where you don’t move, giving yourself some time to compose yourself before you keep going. That hadn’t been the first time he’d called you “mi corazón,” but to hear those words fall from his lips had always caused butterflies to erupt in your stomach. That’s why the same words had been scribed next to his name. He was your heart, too.

Shaking your head to yourself, you sit up again. The next thing you pull out is a dozen or so Polaroid pictures, all with varying dates and locations penned on the back. Most of them had been taken by your mother. She’d always insisted on taking pictures of the two of you whenever she could, and it only got worse after you’d gotten engaged. She’d told you that one day you’d be grateful that so many of these moments were documented. You’d believed her then, though now there’s a part of you that wishes there weren’t so many pictures to remind you of just how deeply integrated into your life that Javier had once been.

There’s one photo, however, that catches your eye as you flip through the small stack. Unlike the others, which are more staged, this one is candid. You’re standing in Javier’s dorm room at Texas A&I, and you immediately recognize it as the day that you and your mother had gone to help him move in. Though really, she’d only gone because you didn’t trust yourself to be able to drive back to Laredo on your own. You would only be a couple of hours away from Javier once you moved into your own dorm in San Antonio, but two hours seemed like days when you’d grown up right down the road from him.

“That’s the last box,” Chucho declares, folding down the cardboard to make it easier to dispose of. You take in a deep breath as it hits you. You’re about to go back home without Javier. You’d already spent the last few nights alone with him, saying your more official goodbyes, but they hadn’t felt real. Now you’re really leaving him.

You feel Javi snake his arms around your waist, pulling your back flush against his chest. He leans down, pressing a kiss to your shoulder, and the gentle contact causes tears to spring into your eyes. You hold on tightly to his arms, not wanting to let him go.

Then there’s a flash, and you look up to see your mother with the camera pointed at the two of you, the photo sliding out the bottom just a moment later. You shake your head at her. “Mama, please,” you chastise her, to which she shrugs, but smiles apologetically. You know she doesn’t mean any harm.

“We’ll give you two a few minutes,” Javier’s mother says. Alicia then takes her husband’s hand, and the two of them file out the door with your mother close behind them.

Javi chuckles lowly, pressing a kiss to the juncture of your neck and your shoulder now that the two of you aren’t being so closely watched. “You’re gonna be alright,” he whispers.

“I should have just applied here,” you murmur, frowning deeper. As an English major, you could have chosen to go to school just about anywhere.

“No. You liked visiting San Antonio. You’ll have fun there. I promise,” he tries to convince you. “And we’ll both be home for holidays and spring break,” he pauses to kiss your temple, “though I think a spring break trip with just the two of us sounds like a good time.”

You grin at the idea. “That would be nice,” you reply softly.

Javi loosens his grip on you, but only enough to turn you so that you face him. He brushes a few strands of hair from your face, tucking them back behind your ear. As your eyes meet his, they fill with tears, and there’s nothing you can do to stop them as they begin to slide down your cheeks.

“Don’t cry, querida. Please,” he whispers, cradling the back of your head as you bury your face in his chest. For his sake, you take a few deep breaths, pulling yourself back together.

Once your tears are mostly dry, you look up at him again. “Alright. Alright. I’m done,” you say, cracking the slightest smile.

Javi smiles back down at you, leaning in for another kiss. He stops just before his lips can capture yours. “It doesn’t matter how far away we are. It doesn’t change anything,” he murmurs.

“I love you, Javi,” you whisper, taking his face gently in your hands and closing the remaining distance between the two of you.

“I love you too, mi corazón.”

A single tear escapes you as you relive the tender moment, though you quickly wipe it away with the sleeve of your shirt. For just a moment, you think about shutting the box and leaving it alone–at least for the night. But you’ve already gotten yourself sucked in the current. The only thing you can do now is ride it out.

You continue looking through all the old memories, reliving the moments almost as vividly as the day they happened. There’s a keychain from the spring break trip that you and Javier did actually take. You find a cheesy birthday card, the cork from the bottle of wine he’d brought you the night he proposed. There’s even a couple of letters that he’d written to you during those college years filled with lofty promises about what your lives would look like once you graduated and got your careers started.

It’s as you read the letters that your emotions get the better of you, and your single tear gives way to a wave. More than once he’d described the day that the two of you would finally be married, and it tears you apart to know that he’d painted that picture so vividly in your mind, only to be the one to so cruelly destroy it at the last moment.

Just as you think you’ve made it to the end of memory lane, you find two more things left in the box, buried at the bottom. The first is a piece of cardstock. Time has yellowed the original white color, and when you turn it over, you feel your heart drop to your stomach.

It’s your wedding invitation.

They were a formality that your grandmother had insisted on, even though you and Javier had both agreed that it wasn’t necessary. The wedding was supposed to be a smaller, family affair, much in the way that Danny’s had been. There were a lot of the traditional details that you just hadn’t been worried about. The ceremony wasn’t your priority. It was being able to call Javier your husband that mattered the most. As long as you were able to say “I do” with Javier, you’d be the happiest woman in the world.

The last thing in the box is a small drawstring pouch. You can hear something metallic jingling inside. You pull the drawstring open and shake the contents into your waiting palm. Immediately, your fist closes around the three rings: your engagement ring, and the wedding bands meant for you and Javier.

A choked sob forces itself from your lips, and you hold your closed fist close to your chest, right over your heart. You don’t know why they were in the box or who put them there. You haven’t even seen the wedding bands since they were handed over for safekeeping before the wedding.

However, your last memory of your engagement ring is all too vivid.

You stand in the back room of the church, your mother standing with you. You’re both waiting for Chucho to tell you that Javier is ready, and that it’s time for you to walk down the aisle. Anxiety has taken up residence in your chest, and while you try to convince yourself that it’s only wedding jitters, you can’t help but feel like there’s something very wrong.

“Mama, what time is it?,” you ask quietly. It’s the only way you can keep your voice from shaking. It feels like there’s barbed wire wrapped around your throat. Speak any louder and you know you’ll be fighting off panicked tears.

She looks at the watch on her wrist, sighing softly. “It’s a quarter after three, honey,” she admits. The wedding was supposed to start at three. “Let me go see what’s going on, sweetheart. I’m sure it’s nothing. Probably just a lost boutonnière or a button that needs sewn back on. Take a deep breath. You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” she tells you. You nod, taking a set on one of the benches.

As you wait, you start twisting your engagement ring around on your finger. It’s been a nervous tic since the day Javi put it on your finger, and even as the edges of the metal rub your skin raw, you can’t bring yourself to stop. Even as you try to breathe deeply, nothing helps assuage the panic that you feel. Surely someone would have given a warning if it were a simple issue. Surely they wouldn’t leave you so worried for something so trivial.

The passage of time is lost on you. There’s no clock in the room and in your panic, you can’t be sure how long your mother has been gone. But when you hear the knob on the door turn, you’re immediately on your feet, nearly tripping over your dress as you move across the room to whoever is coming in.

Tears blur your vision when you see the somber look on Chucho’s face, his eyes tinged red with tears of his own.

“What happened? Where is he?,” you ask desperately. Without waiting for an answer, you try to make your way past the older man, set on going to the other dressing room yourself to find Javier. But Chucho wraps his arms around you, preventing you from moving any farther.

He shakes his head. “He’s gone, mijita. I’m sorry.”

And just like that, your whole world comes crashing down on top of you. Burying you and the life you’d wanted to live so fiercely.

The first sob that claws its way from your throat sounds more like a scream, and you bury your face in Chucho’s shoulder, letting him take most of your weight as you all but collapse in his arms. “Where is he?,” you beg, “Pops, where did he go?”

Chucho is quiet, his voice thick with emotion as he speaks. “I don’t know, mijita. He left without telling anyone. No one saw where he went,” he tells you. He sniffs softly, tightening his hold on you.

“Why?,” you whimper, raising your head just enough to look Chucho in the eye. But seeing the look on his face only makes your chest throb. Your breaths come in sharp gasps as you wait for an answer, though you know that he doesn’t have one.

He just shakes his head.

“God, what did I do? What did I do,” you weep, your fists curling tightly around the edges of his suit jacket, and you bury your face in the crook of his neck. You can just barely hear him trying to shush you, to soothe you in any way that he can. You’re shaking violently with every cry that escapes you, and though you know you’re breaking Chucho’s heart, you can’t bring yourself to stop. You’ve never felt grief like this, so forceful and agonizing and real. You feel like you’ve been pulled underwater and your lungs are burning for air that they’ll never get. You know that they won’t

Javier was the air you breathed, and now he’s gone, leaving you to suffocate alone. 

You sit there at your desk, unending waves of tears streaming down your cheeks. You’re not in the same fit of hysterics that you were on that day, but you still feel the same anguish, the same throbbing in your chest. It burns, a reminder that you haven’t truly lived or breathed since the day Javier left. Slowly, you uncurl your fingers from around the rings, wincing at the indentations in your palm from where you’d held them so tightly. You drop them onto your desk, not at all bothering with the pouch you’d found them in.

You stand from the chair, forcing your tears away as you stalk out of your room and towards the front door. You grab your jacket and your car keys, and then you’re gone.

There’s only one way to drown out the pain you feel.

—

Towards the edge of town, out past the railroad tracks, there’s a run down bar that Javier used to frequent when he was younger, before he took off for Columbia. As he pulls into the crowded parking lot, he’s not surprised to see that the building hasn’t changed a bit. The paint is still worn. The roof still needs patched, and even the busted window hasn’t been replaced, just patched over with plywood boards.

Before he even gets out of his dad’s truck, he can hear the roaring conversations of people trying to be heard over the rest of the background noise. He sighs, running his hand over his face before he gets out. This isn’t the most ideal situation. Javier would much prefer to be drinking in the comfort of his own home, but he knows that his father is getting suspicious about the amount of alcohol he’s been consuming for the past couple of weeks. He can deal with the noise for a few hours if it means he doesn’t have to sit through another one of Chucho’s heart-to-heart talks. There have been a few too many since he came back from Colombia.

He just hopes that no one bothers him. The last thing he needs is to have all of Laredo down his throat asking him about Colombia. He never wanted to be a hero. He doesn’t think of himself that way. How can he? After everything he’s done, all of the destruction he’s caused, how could he ever be considered a hero? If only they knew what kind of man Colombia had turned him into.

Javier opens the door, stepping out of the cab. He shuts and locks the door before walking into the bar. It’s hard to see through the thick haze of smoke that fills the room, and it doesn't help that the only dim lighting comes from the television and the neon lights on the walls. All that matters to him right now though, is that he’s able to drown out the echo of his father’s words in his head.

If it’s even possible, Javier’s sleeping habits have worsened. Where he once dreamed of the hurt in your eyes when he’d seen you in the market, he now only sees you being held in his father’s arms the moment you learned he’d run off. He can’t shake the haunted look in his father’s eyes as he’d finally revealed the details of that day. And all Javier feels is guilt. He’s being crushed under the weight of knowing just how deeply he’d hurt you.

He doesn’t even want to explain himself anymore. He knows that nothing he says will ever rid you of the scars he’s left on your heart. It’s something that he’ll never forgive himself for.

Javier takes a seat at the bar, and he’s surprised that there’s even a seat open, given just how crowded the room is. He remembers though, even when he was younger, the bar never really seemed to hit any sort of capacity. People kept coming, and somehow it all worked out. Like somehow the finite space of the building became infinite when lonely, broken people came seeking refuge.

Thankfully, there’s a glass of whiskey in front of him just moments later. Javier takes a sip of the dark amber liquid, closing his eyes as he feels the warm burn down his throat and into his chest. He’s glad to feel something there that isn’t the suffocating sense of grief and guilt he’s felt since the night of Danny’s wedding.

But he knows his father was right. About all of it. Even if he doesn’t want it to be true, Javier knows that he’s screwed up, and that he’s running back to Colombia just so he doesn’t have to face it. But it would be so much easier to just go back to work, back to dismantling cartels and incarcerating drug lords. He could bury himself in his work, in booze, in women.

Women that are not you.

And as he drains the first glass of whiskey and starts on the second, Javier realizes that there’s one more thing his father was right about: he’s not the man that he used to be.

He closes his eyes again, thinking about the simple way that life used to be before he took off. Before Escobar, everything was linear. He met you, fell in love with you, planned to marry you. You’d both gone to school and started your careers, ones that would take you far away from Laredo if that was what you’d wanted.

And God, did he want that. It was one thing that he had always talked about with you. You’d both grown up feeling caged in by the small-town atmosphere. College had been the most freeing experience. The feeling of independence and anonymity was so intoxicating that neither of you could get enough of it. You’d been so on board with his idea of escaping Laredo, no matter where the two of you ended up. “I’ll follow you anywhere, Javi,” you’d told him once.

You would have. He knows that beyond any doubt in his mind. Even to Colombia.

He opens his eyes again, discovering that his glass is empty again. His eyes search the room for the bartender, but something else catches his attention. Through the haze of smoke and sea of moving bodies, it’s hard for him to know for sure, but as he looks a little longer, he finds that he does indeed see what he thinks he sees.

You’re sitting at a small table in the back of the bar, nursing a glass of something he can’t quite make out in the inadequate lighting. But then you stop, like you can sense his eyes on you. You turn, your head toward the bar, your gaze moving slowly as you try to find the source of your unease.

Your eyes lock onto his, and in the low neon lights he can see that they’re glistening with unshed tears.

Javier feels his heart leap into his throat, and he watches as your entire body tenses. He drops his gaze, looking back down at the empty glass in front of him. Immediately his father’s words come back to him. He’s done seeking you out and forcing you into conversations that you don’t want to have.

But he looks up again when he sees quick, unsteady movement in your general direction. Javier doesn’t know how much you’ve had to drink, but one look at you as you walk to pay your tab tells him that you’re in no shape to drive yourself home. He stays still, waiting to see what the bartender does. If he’s any good at his job, he’ll make sure that you don’t walk out of the bar without a safe way to get home.

You walk away without a word from the bartender. And though there are plenty of other people around you, none of them seem to feel the need to stop you either.

“Fuck,” Javier mutters, knowing that he has to do something.

After slapping a few bills onto the counter, he stands from his barstool, nearly knocking it over with the force of his rapid movement. He then follows you out of the bar, calling out your name before you can reach your car. You stop, frozen in your tracks.

“What do you want, Javier? Haven’t you figured it out yet? I want nothing to do with you!,” you shout back at him, turning on your heels to face him. Your eyes are dark with anger, and he knows immediately that this isn’t going to go as smoothly as he might have dared to hope.

Javier takes a tentative step in your direction, swallowing thickly. He holds his palms up in mock surrender. “You’re not driving yourself home. I’m just making sure you get there safely. That’s all,” he tells you. You straighten up then, and he can practically see the gears turning in your head as you study him closely. In your anger, he can see that you’ve sobered up considerably, but he’s still not taking any chances, not with your well being and quite possibly your life.

You scoff, shaking your head. “Fuck off, Javier. I’m fine. I live right down the road,” you spit back.

“No. I’m not gonna fuck off. I don’t care if it means I have to call your mom myself. You’re not driving home,” he insists.

You take a step closer to him. “Why do you even care, hmm? You didn’t give a shit about what happened to me for ten fucking years, and now all of a sudden you wanna play the good guy who’s just looking out for me? Well that’s bullshit, Peña,” you bite.

“I–”

“No. Actually, you wanna talk about what happened so badly? Let’s do it. Right here,” you start. And even from a distance he can see you trembling. Whether it’s from the cool night air or the heat of your fury, he can’t tell for sure.

“We’re not doing this while you’re drunk,” he states firmly, crossing his arms over his chest.

You take another step forward. You’re only about ten feet from him now. “Oh no. Everything I think about you is crystal clear in my mind, Javier Peña,” you shoot back.

He takes a deep breath, knowing that there’s no escape from whatever you’re about to lay on him. But he knows that he deserves to hear every horrible thing you’ve thought about him in the last ten years. And even then, it won’t compare to what he’s done to you.

“What did I ever do to you?,” you shout at him. “What did I do to make you leave me like that? Didn’t you ever think that maybe I deserved an explanation? And I mean before you left, not ten years after the fact.” Javier stands there in silence, and he just hopes that the people inside the bar can’t hear you over the music and the chatter and the television. The last thing he needs is for this to turn into a spectacle.

“I didn’t know what to tell you,” he admits. It’s not enough.

“You left me without a word, Javier. No warning. Nothing. If it weren’t for your dad, I wouldn’t have ever known what happened to you. For so long I have tried to figure out what happened. Tried to figure out what I did,” you stop for a moment as your voice finally breaks. Javier feels a pang in his chest as your eyes well up with tears. He wonders how many you’ve shed because of him. How much pain will he cause you before this is all over?

“I loved you, Javi. I thought you loved me too, but–”

“I do love you, querida.” He says the words before he can stop himself. He can take your verbal lashing. He can listen to you tell him about all the terrible things he’s done and the consequences of those actions. But he can’t take this. Never this. Even if it makes sense for you to think he doesn’t love you, that he ever stopped, it’s not true.

“Don’t call me that,” is your only response to his words. “You don’t get to fucking call me that anymore. Because you let me believe that we were gonna spend the rest of our lives together. Our story was gonna be the one that I could tell, and then you were just gone,” you weep.

Javier takes a couple of tentative steps forward, so that you’re just within his reach. He wants nothing more than to be able to take you into his arms, to hold you close and comfort you the way that he used to. Every fiber of his being vibrates with the need to wipe your tears away and stay with you until you smile again. But he can’t. The only thing he can do is stand there and watch as you break right in front of him. He’s absolutely helpless.

“You were the love of my life. I gave you everything. I would have followed you anywhere, Javi. But you left me here,” you tell him, your breath coming in short gasps now.

He sighs softly. “I know. I’m so sorry,” he breathes.

You look up into his eyes with a new resolve, despite the effort you’ve already expended. “I hate you,” you declare resolutely.

Javier nods. “You should. That’s the least I deserve for what I’ve done,” he replies, and though his exterior appears unshaken by your words, his heart is breaking in his chest. To hear you say the words makes it all too real.

“I hate you,” you say again, a new wave of tears overtaking you. And then you close the remaining gap between the two of you, shoving at his chest as hard as you can, though in your current state it’s not enough to really move him. “I hate you, Javier,” you repeat, stumbling into him. He doesn’t hesitate to catch you, keeping you upright as your legs give out from under you.

And you keep repeating it, sobbing the words into his collarbone. Every declaration is punctuated by a weakly thrown punch to his chest and torso. He lets you. A sick, twisted part of him wishes that you had the strength to hurt him that way.

“I hate you,” you wail one last time, “but I don’t know how to love anyone else…”

Your hands fall uselessly to his shoulders, gripping onto the lapel of his leather jacket as you continue to cry into his chest. Something inside of Javier breaks as he feels you trembling in his arms. He can feel every bit of the pain that radiates from your body. It brings tears to his eyes and cuts off his breathing. He’s never felt agony this way, not even in Colombia.

Suddenly, Javier understands what his father felt like the day he left.

—

Javier carries you from the truck into your apartment, using the keys he found in your jacket pocket. You’re sleeping restlessly in his arms, soft choked cries escaping you every few minutes, but he’s just glad that he was able to get you home.

He wanders down the hall with you, finding the bedroom relatively easily given the small size of your apartment. He then lays you gently on your bed, frowning at the way your brows are knit together, deep worry lines marring your forehead. Javier has to resist the urge to smooth them out with his thumb. He knows better than to touch you right now, when you’re far less than aware of what’s going on.

Instead, he takes a seat next to you, making quick work of removing your shoes and your socks. He’ll leave you to sleep in your clothes, not wanting to wake you. Sighing, he pushes himself up, feeling exhaustion settling in on his shoulders. It’s been a long night even without considering his inability to sleep.

But as he stands, you stir, one hand blindly reaching at him. Javier looks to see that your eyes are just barely open as you finally manage to wrap your fingers loosely around his wrist.

“Don’t leave me, Javi. Please. Not again,” you whimper.

He knows that you don’t mean it, that they’re just words fueled by alcohol and exhaustion. But the plea still hits him square in the chest. If only he knew you wouldn’t want different when you woke up in the morning, he’d stay right next to you for the rest of the night.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he whispers. If you hear it, he can’t tell. Your eyes are closed again, your hand slowly slipping away from him.

Javier turns to leave, but as he moves to turn off your desk light, he sees the various things spread out on the wood surface. His chest constricts as he realizes what it is and where it came from. All of these memories of what your lives looked like before stare back at him. He lets out a shaky breath, hardly able to believe that you still have the keepsakes.

He gathers it all back up, placing it gently back in the box, and he carries it with him out to the living room, where he too can take the painful trip down memory lane. Javier sits heavily on your couch, placing the box on the coffee table and beginning to reminisce.

By the time he’s done, he understands why you’d ended up at the bar. If he weren’t so exhausted, he’d need another drink too.

As the clock on your wall gently chimes at three in the morning, Javier lays his head down on the arm of your couch. He aches so badly for sleep, that he can’t help but pass out right there.

It’s restless, but sleep nonetheless

—

You wake with a start as the first rays of light filter their way through your bedroom curtains. You look down at yourself, finding that you’re still in your clothes from the previous night. But you don’t know how you got home from the bar. You don’t know how you made it to your bed. You don’t know how your socks and shoes managed to lie neatly on the floor next to you. All you remember is–

Javi.

You stumble out of your bed, moving as fast as your aching, fatigued body can manage even though it makes your head throb. When you make it to the living room, the first place you look is the couch. He never liked leaving you alone on the nights you got drunk.

But he’s not there.

The only sign that Javier has been in the living room is the mess on the coffee table. He’d found the box on your desk. He’d gone through it and relived the same memories you had. You sink down on the couch, resting your elbows on your knees and pressing the heels of your palms into your eyes. Your words come flooding back to you and you let out a shaky sigh. You don’t know where to go from here.

You sit up straight again, noting the early hour, and decide to just crash on the couch for a few more hours. As you settle yourself onto the cushions, you feel something hard press into your back. You reach behind you, your fingers wrapping around the offending object. A groan escapes you as you bring your hand back into your eyeshot.

Javi’s aviators.

You place them on the table. You don’t have the strength to consider the idea of taking them back to him just yet. Instead, you close your eyes, letting the pull of exhaustion put you back under.

The last thing you’re consciously aware of before you fall asleep again is the faint scent of Javier’s cologne under your nose. A soft smile graces your lips, and in your sleep your burrow further into the cushion.

-

Spanish Translations

Mi Corazón - My Heart (Nickname)

“Lo siento, querida.” - “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

“Te quiero tanto, mi corazón.” - “I love you, my heart.”

Mijita - My Daughter (Nickname)

-

Chapter Four

-

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Sweet Dreams

The Clarkes (The Dark Pictures Anthology: Little Hope) & Child!Reader (Female)

Warnings: None

Genre: Domestic (Family) Fluff

Summary: When little Y/N is finally given a home by the Clarkes family, she’s rightfully very shy and apprehensive as any toddler would be when surrounded by strangers and finding herself in a new surrounding. Luckily, all the members of the Clarke family are nothing short of sweet and welcoming towards her, getting her warmed up to her new life almost instantly.

Happy birthday, @artlovingbre! I hope this reaches you in time despite the time difference and whatnot but anyhow - I hope you have a wonderful day and enjoy the best birthday you’ve had yet. Thank you for giving me the honor of writing this sweet and adorable fanfic as a gift for your birthday. I hope the final product lives up to your expectations. Once again, happy birthday! Enjoy your special day and this fanfic I’ve written you! Lots of love, Vy ❤

Safely strapped into the car seat with a seatbelt, the five-year-old Y/N fidgets with her hands resting in her lap, too shy to look up. Her reaction to the sudden change is completely understandable. In fact, the woman running the foster home mentioned that Y/N had handled the news of being adopted much better than other kids had in the past. The woman - Mrs. Jones - mentioned to James and Anne on several occasions how special of a girl Y/N is. Wise beyond her years and with a heart of gold, she had said the second Anne pointed the little girl out to James when they had gone to the foster home for the first time. Despite being quiet and reserved when she was sat down with James and Anne so she could meet them, the married couple already knew the little girl was the one they’d want to adopt into their family. Sure, she did come across as shy at the start, but having observed her as she played with the other kids, smiling and giggling like the children her age, Anne and James knew she was a wonderful girl. Truly, a heart of gold.

James is in the driver’s seat, a lot happier than he’s letting on. The idea of adopting another child was entirely Anne’s. After they had adopted Megan, he had never once thought about adopting another child into their already buzzing beehive of a household. Four kids, all at different ages and stages, it could get pretty exhausting and frustrating, especially when the older ones - Tanya and Dennis, to be more specific - would yell at each other from across the house. With these images in mind, James was very opposed to the idea, though he was aware that he’d cave eventually. He could only deny his wife’s wishes for so long but when she brought up the argument of Megan feeling lonely, that’s when she had him in the palm of her hand.

Anne, James’ loving wife is sitting beside the newest addition to the Clarke family in the backseat of their car as they get closer and closer to the house where their four curious children are awaiting to meet their youngest sibling. Anne had been looking at their family as it was - chaotic, dysfunctional even at times with the disagreements and argument among their four kids. Her and her husband had been hoping they’d grow out of this fighting phase and grow to be a lot more tolerant of one another, but the case seemed to be completely opposite. And the more time passed, the more the older kids would argue amongst themselves and occasionally pick on the youngest Megan. It goes without saying that they all love each other dearly, however they love getting on each other’s nerves just as much. Seeing no other way to put her family in balance and seeing her youngest daughter constantly left to the side, ignoring the arguing of her siblings, Anne had made the decision to incorporate a new addition to the family and she was determined to get over any obstacle to make it happen - the only obstacle being her husband and his will which was easily overpowered by her persistence.

The couple couldn’t have possibly chosen a better, sweeter, smarter child. The little girl, in their eyes, is a lot like Anthony and Tanya. Despite her age being closer to Megan’s, the two girls appear to have nothing in common except the childish excitement and goodness of their hearts and their friendliness. With that in mind, James and Anne know the girls would get on just fine. In fact, they know for certain that Y/N will be welcomed and accepted into the family no problem. The only member that worried them and the only one they seriously sat down to give a pep-talk to was Dennis but even he was offended because his parents felt the need to sit him down and instruct him on how to behave. Main reason for that was the fact that he too was just excited to meet his new little sister as was everyone. Of course, he never showed it or expressed it, but deep down he could barely wait for this day to come. He even supported Anthony and Tanya’s argument that they should come along to pick the girl up from the foster home - an argument that was inevitably turned down by James.

“You want to scare the girl before she even comes to our house? I won’t allow it.“ He said, mush to the disappointment of the aforementioned young adults.

In the meantime, as the car glides over the street only three streets away from the Clarkes’ house, all Y/N can do is wonder; think and rethink every possibility of what’s to come. No matter how many adults say she’s such a grown and mature kid, they have no idea what’s going on in her head. Just because she doesn’t go to confine in an adult about the monster under her bed or the one in her closet doesn’t mean she doesn’t fear those monsters. She does, but she’s never wanted to bother anyone else. Her main fear, however, was that haunting sound of the wind howling throughout the old house of Mrs. Jones. The eerie noises produced by the gusts of wind peeking in through the cracks and holes in the walls and around the door and window frames. Those sounds kept her up at night from the very first time she had to sleep in that small room she shared with another girl her age. She never outgrew that fear and on the autumn and nights she barely slept a wink. Now, she hopes she’ll finally be absorbed by the sweet slumber, confined in a warm bed with people that she can call family an arm’s reach away.

Pulling up to the house, Y/N finally looks up, eyes twinkling curiously as she looks up at the modest house standing tall above the vehicle her and her new parents are sitting in at the moment. Looking to the side, she finds Anne’s warm, caring gaze on her, accompanied by a small smile of genuine adoration.

“Here we are.“ James announces, unbuckling his seatbelt with a mildly trembling hand, “Let’s quickly head inside, the kids are probably lining the windows with excitement.“

And that they are. Tanya, Anthony and Megan are all aligned by the living room windows, staring at the vehicle expectantly, waiting to see their sister for the first time. Little do they know, Dennis is doing the exact same thing but by the kitchen window. He’s just as curious, but once again, not as willing to show it.

With her hand held in Anne’s, Y/N steps out of the car, finally getting a good look at the house she’ll be calling home from now on. There’s almost zero hesitation in the steps she takes towards the front door which opens before anyone even gets the chance to place their hand on the doorknob.

Light pours out of the brightly lit hallway out onto the porch, illuminating the married couple and the little girl standing in the slowly falling night.

“Welcome home.“ Anthony is the first one who greets them, more specifically Y/N, while Megan is restlessly shifting from one foot to the other, eager to run up to her new sister, six years her junior, and give her a hug. Tanya’s hold on her shoulders is the only thing preventing her from doing so.

The welcome wagon of three steps aside, allowing James, Anne and Y/N to walk in just as Dennis emerges from the kitchen, his gaze immediately seeking out the youngest member standing in the hallway.

“Y/N, these are your older siblings.” Anne says, motioning to the older kids aligned in front of her, simultaneously flashing them a warning look, “Why don’t you all welcome your sister while I get dinner ready?”

“I’ll help you.“ James chimes in, accompanying Anne in the intention of heading into the kitchen, allowing the kids to give a welcome to Y/N on their own. Though somewhat risky, they are hoping for the best outcome from their first interaction.

As the married couple walks away, the group leads Y/N into the living room where the girl, while still rather shy, finds herself feeling at home and comfortable. She’s curious above all else, though. Looking at the unfamiliar faces, all she wants is to learn more about them.

The one to break the introduction ice is Tanya. She crouches down so she’s at eye level with Y/N and gives her a warm smile. “Hi, Y/N. My name’s Tanya. I’m your older sister. It’s really nice to meet you.“

Surprising the older girl, Y/N steps forward and gives her a hug, opposing her shy and hesitant appearance. “Nice to meet you too.” She whispers before pulling away and looking around at the faces she still doesn’t have names to connect to.   It doesn’t remain that way for long though - Megan, excited that she’s finally able to give her sister a hug, doesn’t hesitate to take the opportunity.

“Hi, I’m Megan! We’ll be sharing a room together! You’re gonna love it! I have a lot of toys we can share too!“ Not bothering to hide her enthusiasm, Megan approaches Y/N grinning at the younger girl who smiles right back at her.

“Do you have stuffed animals? Mine will come tomorrow, but I can’t sleep without them.“ She says timidly, embarrassed by the confession.

“Of course!“ Megan squeals, “You can have them all if you want!“

Anthony is next to introduce himself, earning himself a hug also. However, when Dennis’ turn arrives, he’s rather hesitant on how to approach the situation. He’s not used to these interactions nor is he known for being very nice or welcoming and the last thing he wants is to scare or upset the little girl, leaving her with a bad impression of him.

“And that’s Dennis.“ Tanya says, shooting him a glare as a silent ‘be nice!‘ before changing her expression entirely, giving a Y/N a sweet smile. 

While Dennis remains still as a statue, death-glaring his older sister, Y/N takes a step towards him, offering a shy ‘Hi’ while avoiding eye-contact before giving him a hug too. Stunned and with a breath that has caught somewhere between his lungs and his throat, Dennis wraps his arms around the small girl as if on autopilot. Huffing out the quietest and most reluctant, “Nice to meet you, sis.”

James and Anne pick that exact moment to walk in with the intention of inviting their kids into the dining room where James has already set the table for dinner. They stop mid-step however when they see the scene in front of them - Dennis carefully - and fearfully - hugging his five-year-old sister as though she’s either a porcelain doll he’s afraid to break or an otherworldly being he’s never laid eyes upon before. The parents are debating between laughing and melting at the sight, simultaneously relieved at how well the newest addition to their family has been accepted by the rest of the members. Looking at Anthony and Tanya confirms that the two are thinking the same.

“Come on kids, dinner’s ready.” James announces, wrapping his arm around his emotional and teary-eyed wife’s shoulders, pulling her closer as a non-verbal way of reassuring her he feels the same way as she does.

To the surprise of everyone in the room, instead of letting go of the little girl, Dennis lifts her up into his arms as though she weighs as much as a feather, causing her to yelp and giggle.

“Bet you can’t make it there before Y/N and I can.” He exclaims, dashing past everyone and towards the dining room with the child giggling and squealing in his firm embrace.

If there was any shred of doubt left in James or Anne’s minds, it has now been erased and replaced with ease and joy they have been longing to feel since the moment they picked Y/N up from the foster home.

                                                            *  *  *

Following dinner, Megan and Tanya set up Y/N’s bed with the colorful sheets, pillow and blankets they had bought earlier that week. Megan didn’t forget to lay out a bunch of stuffed animals as well, remembering what Y/N had mentioned about those toys earlier. Meanwhile, Anthony and Dennis were giving Y/N a tour of the ground floor - or at least tried to. Y/N’s attention was immediately stolen by the box containing Dennis’ vinyl records and - much to Anthony’s surprise - he actually let her look through them and examine each and every record without giving her any warning or instructions when it came to how she held, picked up or put down his most prized possessions.

Being the youngest and also exhausted after such a busy day, Y/N was the first one to start yawning while the family sat watching TV in the living room. Anne and James were quick to react, taking the little girl up to the room she’s sharing with Megan. Tucking Y/N in with James’ storytelling filling her ears, Anne couldn’t suppress the pleasant feeling of joy and fulfillment. She plants a loving kiss on the little girl’s forehead just as James closes the story book and sets it on the bedside table, getting up quietly as to now awaken the already asleep kid. With one exchanged look they know exactly what the other’s feeling - shimmering eyes, glowing with fulfillment, genuine smiles, allowing their fondness to shine through. The two exit the room, allowing only the night light to stay one and leaving the door open a crack as a reminder that they are nearby. That she’s not alone. That she has no reason to be scared if she wakes up in the middle of the night.

But she won’t because for the first time the little girl is sleeping as peacefully as a child should be. Not at all bothered by the sound of any winds or thoughts of any monsters that might be lurking in the dark. She’s safe and sound, dreaming sweet dreams in her new loving home.

You’re Brave (Part 2/2) - Levi x Reader

Link to Part One

Synopsis: You’ve been losing sleep because you’ve been hearing noises in your bedroom at night and you think you’re being haunted. Levi makes plans to help put your mind at rest and later helps to investigate the source of the noises in your bedroom.

Warnings: No smut but a brief mention of sex. Just fluff.

The abandoned house was eerily quiet despite its lack of windowpanes (and even a roof in some parts of the building) exposing it to the whistling wind and distant murmur of people heading home for the night in Trost. A bitter breeze crept through the building, slowly shifting between bodies as if taking its time to scrutinise the people who dare obstruct its path. Some of the brick walls had crumbled into a pile of debris on the floor while others were barely intact, seemingly held together by the graffiti sprayed onto the stone. The house felt as if it were one harsh gust of wind away from disintegrating into the ground, its history buried with it like an avalanche of memories provoked by the quaking of the present.

               We were stood in a decrepit foyer as our tour guide explained its past and the people that used to live there, along with stories of ghost sightings in this room. A decaying painting was leaning against the wall – a portrait of someone once noble but now their legacy is far less grand. Despite its face worn away and hardly visible, its unnerving stare sent a chill up my spine. I shuffled towards Levi and when he noticed my apprehension he positioned himself between the painting and me so I was no longer in its line of sight. I’m sure he moved his body nearer to mine, but it was most likely something he was unaware of as opposed to an active effort to stand even closer to me. Nevertheless, the feeling of his bicep and part of his chest pressed against my back, coupled with his slow and soft breath brushing past my ear, was titillating.

               “Excuse me, sir.” Levi spoke when our tour guide asked if we had any questions. I could feel his deep voice resonating through my body as it vibrated through his chest, causing my knees to tremble slightly and butterflies to frantically flutter in my stomach as if they had just been released from a killing jar. “What are the signs that a building is haunted?” I shivered as his breathing near my ear resumed and Levi, assuming that I was cold, adjusted my jacket to ensure that my skin was not exposed to the cool air. Are you trying to seduce me, Mr. Ackerman?

               “Well, you’ve got ya classic signs: items fallin’ off shelves, hearin’ strange noises, doors openin’ or closin’, candles goin’ out. Ya might also notice some cold spots around yer house. Those are the most common signs, but in rare cases ya might actually see some shadows or even an apparition.” The tour guide paced around the room and counted off his fingers with confidence as he answered Levi’s question.

               “At the risk of sounding like a sceptic, couldn’t those things be explained by, I don’t know. . . the wind?” He protested and I didn’t need to look at Levi to know that his expression was unimpressed. I could picture his face in my mind: eyebrows slightly furrowed with apathetic eyes and his mouth in a straight line across his face.

               “I s’pose it depends on the context of the situation – it might be a bit silly to attribute strange happenin’s in yer house to the wind when, say, there are no windows open. Anyway, let’s move on to the next room.” The guide panicked as he attempted to persuade us against Levi’s apparent ignorance.

               “I don’t know about you, but I’m not convinced.” Levi whispered into my ear and I momentarily froze on the spot, my knees almost giving out and falling to the floor like a house of cards collapsing at the sound of his voice so close to my skin.

I agreed with him though; those things that our tour guide said could be attributed to the wind, so I didn’t think he could say anything that would convince me that this building was haunted, especially because the windows were all smashed and I could feel the wind in every room. Any activity that was claimed to be supernatural in this house could have, in fact, been caused by the wind. It did put my mind at ease somewhat when I realised that my wardrobe activity was unlike any of the ‘classic signs’ of a haunting that our guide mentioned, so it was unlikely to be due to ghosts. I still had no explanation for that, though, and that irked me more than anything.

 The next room we visited was a large kitchen with a pantry at the far end of the room, darkness engulfing the doorway. After the tour guide had given his speech about the room, he invited us to look around and I took it as an opportunity to ask him a question of my own.

               “Excuse me, I was wondering if you could help me? I’ve been having an issue in my bedroom for the last couple of nights and I was thinking it might be haunted? You see, I’ve been hearing noises from my wardrobe as if it were shaking violently and last night a painting even fell off my wall.” I sheepishly explained my predicament to him, part of me was hoping he would be able to give me an explanation so I at least had an answer – ghosts or not – while the other part was wishing he was clueless so I would be certain that this man’s arguments lacked any credibility.

               “Ah, yes, definitely sounds like you’ve got a ghost. I don’t s’pose you’ve told ya friend over there? Let me guess, he said it was caused by an earthquake?” He chuckled to himself as he nodded his head in Levi’s direction. An earthquake would have been a reasonable explanation to be honest, but it’s unlikely that two earthquakes would hit only my bedroom at the same time in two consecutive nights.

               “Well, he didn’t say anything actually.” That’s not entirely true, he said ‘spooky’, but the tour guide didn’t need to know that.

               “That’s the thing with sceptics – they’ve always got some sort of ‘scientific explanation’ for everythin’, but as soon as it’s somethin’ that doesn’t fit with their beliefs they’ve got nothin’ to say.” I didn’t appreciate the hostility in his tone as he spoke about Levi and my shoulders tensed up as I felt defensive. I had already made my mind up that I wasn’t keen on this man, so out of stubbornness I decided not to take anything else he said too seriously.

               “So how can I get rid of the ghost?” I asked him firmly just to silence any further criticism he could make of Levi.

               “First you should burn some sage to cleanse ya room. Then you’ve gotta be firm and let ‘em know they’re not welcome an’ if that doesn’t work, hold a séance.” His tone was unconvincing and he sounded like he was just making all of this up as he spoke. Even if what he was saying was true, I doubt that telling the ghosts they are unwelcome in my room would work since I had already tried to politely reason with them last night and failed.

               Another person who was taking the tour with us came to the guide to ask him some questions of their own, so I took my leave and looked for Levi. He was walking over to the pantry on his own and I mentally commended his bravery – I would not go inside a dark hole on my own in an abandoned building in the middle of the night, but he was humanity’s strongest soldier, of course he's brave. This was the perfect opportunity to test his courage, I thought, so I silently followed him and when he was alone in the pantry, I jumped through the doorway and playfully nudged his shoulder.

               “Boo!” I shouted, but my attempt to scare him was in vain. Levi stood in front of me, almost invisible in the dark, with the same apathetic expression on his face. “How?!” I moaned, amazed that he was immune to my childish prank.

               “I’m not scared of anything.” His tone was smug as he took a step closer to me, his face just a little bit more visible now because it was mere inches away from mine. There was a smirk on his lips – bigger than the one he wore in the mess hall that same morning – and I couldn’t quite believe what I was seeing. Did I make him smile? Even in the absence of light, with what little my eyes could see, I thought that he was beautiful and I wanted to kiss him right then and there. But what would happen if I did? Would it come as a surprise to him? Would he push me away? Would he pull me in?

               I watched his lips, drunk on the rare sight of his smile, before two tourists made their presence known behind us as they chatted with each other about the unsettling aura of the house. Levi’s smirk faded and I was sober again with my hopes diminished. I could not kiss the captain for his ship had sailed.

               As we left the pantry, I felt a pair of hands grab both of my shoulders and a disembodied voice shout a startled ‘ah!’ behind me. I flinched and let out a loud squeal in response, attracting the attention of everyone in the room.

               “I’m sorry, I thought that would be funny.” Levi confessed and I relaxed my shoulders, internally smiling about him showing his playful side and getting revenge on me for trying to scare him. “Are you alright?”

               “Yeah, just a little bit scared.” I chuckled and ran my hand through my hair as we walked towards the next room in the house.

               “I guess you’ll just have to stay close to me if you’re that fearful.” Say less, Levi. I timidly wrapped my hand around his bicep and linked my arm with his as we walked. He looked down at me before he spoke again, “Your bedroom isn’t haunted, by the way. And setting fire to herbs won’t do anything other than make your room smell funny.” It was an attempt to reassure me that I had nothing to be scared of, and while it put my mind at ease, I wasn’t prepared to let go of his arm just yet. He didn’t move away from me, though, and I thought that it was probably because he felt guilty for scaring me and there was nothing more to it.

 We returned to the barracks in the early hours of the morning. Admittedly, I paid more attention to Levi than the tour itself, especially after our guide had been so critical of my companion, I didn’t particularly want to listen to anything else he had to say. Besides, the feeling of Levi’s muscular arm linked with mine was overwhelming and I couldn’t concentrate on anything else, even if I wanted to. It’s safe to say that my thoughts were completely distracted from the supernatural, at least for the time being.

               “Will you be alright?” Levi asked me after he walked me back to my bedroom.

               “I think so. I wasn’t particularly convinced by what the tour guide was saying, I’m sure there’s a logical explanation for what has been happening in my room. If any ghosts want to start shit tonight I’ll knock ‘em out.” I joked as I put my fists up and pretended to spar with the air. “Anyway, if the noises continue and they scare me, I’m just going to have to tell my brain to get over it because I need to confront my fears. If it’s going to become a regular thing, I can’t keep losing sleep over it.”

               “You’re brave.” Levi patted the top of my head and I smiled at him in return. “If you do get scared and you want some company, just come and find me. Goodnight.” He turned around and walked down the hallway after I said goodnight to him in return, and when I entered my room and closed the door behind me, I fought the urge to scream and jump up and down in excitement. Just come and find me – I’m sure he wouldn’t just offer this to anybody, right? Somewhere in the back of my mind I was praying for another scare tonight just so I had an excuse to visit Levi. I shook the thoughts away, realising that what I told Levi was true: I need to confront my fears.

 It wasn’t long after I hopped into bed that I heard the shaking noise sounding from my wardrobe again. I remembered Levi telling me that I’m brave before he left, and after hearing those words in my mind I decided to keep my eyes closed and ignore the noise. I pictured Levi in my head and thought about his chest pressed against my shoulder and his whispers in my ear to override the fear of the mysterious wardrobe noise.

               This tactic didn’t work for long, however, because the familiar sound of my painting falling off the wall and crashing onto the ground filled my room. And in that moment all my thoughts ceased. My breath caught in my throat and my whole body tensed up as my heartbeat pounded in my chest and chills ran through me. No, I thought, Levi thinks I’m brave.

My hand tentatively grasped onto the covers and hesitantly pulled them away as I sat on the edge of my bed, my heart thumping against my ribcage. I took a few steps towards the wall to hang my painting back up, but before I could I heard a door creaking in the hallway outside my room. I’m brave, I repeated in my head as I tiptoed towards my door. After turning the doorknob and peeking through the gap I had created, I witnessed the silhouette of a woman walking down the hall in the darkness. Instinctively and out of fear, I slammed the door shut and pressed my back to it.

I felt pathetic as my breath was shaky and a tear escaped my eye; after all my time as a captain in the Survey Corps, after risking my life to save my comrades, this was the thing to almost break me. I tried to tell myself that it wasn’t an apparition, it was probably just someone going to the bathroom or getting a glass of water. But I wasn’t the best at persuading myself to think reasonable thoughts, I needed someone more convincing.

I’m brave, I said to myself, my voice shaky as I wiped away the few tears that ran down my cheek, and I opened my bedroom door and ran in search of Levi. I navigated the hallways, trying to stay quiet out of courtesy for everyone else who was sleeping, and I finally found myself outside Levi’s bedroom. Before I knocked on his door I made sure to compose myself; I couldn’t let him see me looking like a trembling mess. Levi opened the door almost instantly after I knocked three times, calmly and softly.

“Hello. You look like you’ve seen a- no, never mind, I said that one last night. Kuso. Are you alright?” Seeing the concern on his face was enough to distract me from my worries, at least for a brief moment.

“Funny you should say that, actually,” I chuckled nervously but it wasn’t enough to hide my fear, “the noise, i-it happened a-again and my painting fell off the wall again. Then, I heard a door opening and I looked into the hallway and saw a woman.” As I stood in his doorway, I waited for Levi to tell me that I was being ridiculous and I had nothing to be scared about. I waited for him to give me a logical explanation for what I just witnessed, but he didn’t say anything of the sort.

“We need to go and check this out.” He stepped out of his bedroom and closed the door behind him, then he motioned for me to lead the way and he walked down the hallway with me. “So let me get this straight: you heard someone opening a door and then you saw a woman and you immediately assumed. . . ghost?” His tone was a little condescending, but I didn’t mind it because I needed him to make me realise my thoughts were silly and clouded with fear.

“I realise it sounds quite stupid now that I think about it, but at the time I was scared so. . . I came straight to you.” I was embarrassed that I admitted to Levi that he was the first person I ran to in a time of crisis, but he didn’t mention it and instead linked his arm with mine as we walked. I was surprised by his gesture, but I realised that he probably did it to offer me some comfort after I did it to him when I was scared in the abandoned house.

“There’s no ghost.” He assured just before we arrived at my bedroom. I opened the door and I lit some candles after we stepped inside so that we weren’t in complete darkness and I could hang my painting back up on my wall.

The shaking noise from my wardrobe had stopped so we stood in silence for a while waiting for something to happen. It wasn’t long before the creaking of a door was heard in the hallway and my head quickly turned to face Levi. I ran towards the door and pulled him with me as I slowly turned the doorknob and poked my head out of the room. Levi’s body pressed against my back as he stuck his head through the gap in my door, the feeling reminiscent of when we were stood in the foyer of the abandoned building, but this time it was more than just his arm and a bit of his chest against my back. This time I could feel almost all of his chest and the hard abs on his torso, and my knees felt weak again as my breath hitched. Despite Levi’s cold exterior, his body was warm and inviting, and I resisted the temptation to lean back into his chest.

“There’s nobody there.” He whispered into my ear and again I felt myself shivering upon feeling his words on my skin. We stayed in the same position for quite some time before Levi moved away, the cool air on my back replacing his presence.

I closed the door and walked across my room towards my bed, but before I could get there the noise from my wardrobe resumed. My wide, anxious eyes met Levi’s as I pointed towards the furniture. He grinned slightly and shook his head, then proceeded to gently place his hand around my wrist and pull me inside the wardrobe. I didn’t have many clothes, so it wasn’t too much of a struggle to fit two adults inside, but our bodies were very close with our legs almost entangled.

“Eren’s bedroom is the one next to yours, right?” He whispered. I was unsure of why he was asking me this, but it made me realise that I could have asked Eren if he had been hearing strange noises in the middle of the night too.

“Y-yes.” I stuttered. The lack of distance between us caused my heart to race and my breathing was less controlled.

I think Levi mistook this for fear because he gently put his hand on my shoulder and said, “press your head against the wardrobe and listen carefully.” I did as he instructed and pressed my ear against the wood, unsure of what I was supposed to be listening to. And then I heard it. Through the connecting wall between Eren’s bedroom and mine, I heard the sound of a woman moaning Eren’s name and what I assumed to be his bed banging against the wall. I pulled my head away in disgust and due to the complete darkness in my wardrobe, I misjudged the distance between myself and the wood and ended up banging my head quite hard. Ow!

“Be careful, are you alright?” Levi asked as he reached his hand out to rub my head.

“Was that Eren and Mi-”

“Mikasa, yeah. The ghost that has been terrorising you these past few nights has actually been Eren and Mikasa going at it pretty hard. I heard the noise when I stayed here last night and this is what I heard when I investigated.” There was a brief pause as I processed the information that Levi was telling me, and then the silence in the air was broken when both of us burst into laughter. After hearing Levi’s laugh for the first time I noticed that it was beautiful and I wished that it would never end, but we both calmed down when I realised that he was still stroking my head. I softly placed my hand on top of his and lowered it so it was by my side before entwining my fingers between his. Levi took his free hand and cupped my cheek, his thumb stroking along my cheekbone.

“This reminds me – there was something I wanted to do back in that pantry.” He declared, his voice low and sensuous. He moved his face closer to mine so that our noses were touching and I could feel his soft breath against my skin. My hand squeezed his in anticipation as his hair brushed against my cheek and the centimetres between our lips felt like lightyears spanning over distant galaxies. He was a star shining brightly in the night sky that I would extend my hand out to touch before realising that it is too far out of my reach. But I would build a rocket and traverse the cosmos with my bare hands just to feel your lips against mine.

“May I kiss you?” Levi breathed and I lifted my hand and wrapped it around the back of his neck, my face yearning for his under the touch of his thumb.

“Yes.” I whispered. And as I closed my eyes his nose brushed against mine before I felt his soft lips press firmly onto my own. All of the anticipation that had built up suddenly exploded in a supernova of passion and I was being dragged into a black hole of desire, unable to escape the gravity of his taste that was pulling me into him.

Levi untangled his fingers from mine and wrapped his arm around my back to pull me closer to him, his other hand still caressing my cheek. I took my free hand and ran it through his hair before resting it on the back of his head. We pulled our faces away for a short moment as we regained our breath, but it wasn’t long until our lips were reunited, spiralling into an abyss of ardour where time ceased to exist.

I’m unsure of the amount of time that had passed while we were in my wardrobe – perhaps it was hours, maybe it was mere minutes – but we were interrupted by a loud bang coming from the opposite side of my wall.

“Your ghost is back.” Levi playfully nudged my arm as he guided me out of my wardrobe and back into the dim light of my bedroom.

“Oh, shush.” I turned away from him and pretended to sulk with my arms folded across my chest. He responded by gently pulling on my elbow so I faced him again, then he planted a delicate kiss on my forehead and my fake frown turned into a large, open-mouthed smile.

“You’re really cute when you’re scared, by the way.” Levi confessed before pulling me in for another kiss.

“Stop,” I whined, “I lost so much sleep over that whole ghost ordeal!”

“Well, you can rest easy now. Come on.” Levi led me to my bed and tucked me in, sitting himself on the edge while he held my hand.

“Please stay, I’m still terrified.” I pouted and widened my eyes in an attempt to convince him that I was still scared.

“I know that’s a lie, but fine.” Levi smirked as I lifted the blanket up and motioned for him to get under it. When he was comfortable he lifted his arm and I rested my head on his chest while I wrapped my arm around his waist.

Levi pressed his lips against my head one last time before I closed my eyes, drifting off into a dream incomparable to the one I was already living in.

My Opinions On Jujutsu Kaisen That Literally Nobody Asked For

I finished binging the Jujutsu Kaisen manga in 48 hours. I am having some expresso, because I’m depresso.

Here’s a Sad Stitch to show you how I feel.

(And of course, warnings for discussion/ranting/kinda meta on the Jujutsu Kaisen manga below the cut, so please read at your own discretion!)

Sukuna is truly a Bastard™, along with Mahito. 

I just- *cries in Shibuya Arc aka PAIN*

*Pulls out megaphone* Nanamin. 

That’s all folks. Thanks for reading, have a nice day!

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(Just kidding!)

Ugh, NANAMIN 👏 WHAT 👏 A 👏 MAN 😭 😭 😭 😭 I became a certified Nanami stan once I saw the tired business man aesthetic (plus, his words about how work is shit? Truer words have never been spoken), and his little speech about adults and responsibility, how children no matter their circumstances are still children, and should be given the opportunity to act as such. Because, YES, FINALLY, A RESPONSIBLE ADULT WITH THE VOICE OF AN ANGEL aka the voice of Kenjiro Tsuda

Anyways, I love how the Jujutsu Kaisen manga shows that adults can handle things, and that is A-OKAY!!! If Jujutsu Tech follows the Japanese school system, Yuji is a first year in high school, so he’s probably 15 or 16 years old, way too early to go through Shibuya level of trauma (though, I think anybody is too young to have to go through what happened to Yuji in Shibuya). 

Children should have the privilege to be children. That doesn’t mean coddling, it means that children should have plenty of time to experience new things, enjoy being a child, and I’m so happy Nanami says this! 

In conclusion, Nanami deserves happiness and a vacation to Kuantan 🥺

YOSHINO JUNPEI!!! He and his mom deserve happiness, they’re both precious beans. I didn’t even realize Junpei was dead until 5+ chapters later. But it was too late, for I had already gotten attached!!! *cue curse worthy screeching* 

I was so excited for Junpei to join Jujutsu Tech, too! I had this whole headcanon of Junpei being HAPPY again, talking about movies with Yuji, interacting with the other first years, him seeing Panda for the first time!!! The thing was, back then, it wasn’t headcanon! I thought it was going to be facts, until Gege said ‘lol, you thought, peasant’, before spitting on any hope of mine for a happy Junpei.

(On a completely different tangent, I would be SO psyched if I got to meet a talking panda, we could act out all of “Kung Fu Panda” together, especially the chopstick scene, and maybe we could go to a zoo, just to mess with the zookeepers about a honest to god PANDA walking on its hind legs around the zoo)

‘If Junpei had lived’ is a phrase I think about a lot, and I think that is why the “Young Fish and Reverse Punishment” arc  was so crucial to the story and yet so tragic. 

Junpei has so much potential to be happy, and then he didn’t get the happiness he deserves. It really sets the tone, the high stakes to the whole manga, for we see the amount of damage a curse inflicts on somebody who could be in a situation like Junpei. 

As the readers, we understand the reasoning behind Junpei’s ideology, sympathizing with him as we see what horrible torment he has to go through. That very first scene of this arc, where the bullies made him eat the cockroach and BURNED HIM WITH A LIT CIGARETTE, and the teacher who saw all of this happening, JUST TURNS AWAY!!! It was haunting. But finally, finally, we get a light at the tunnel for Junpei in the form of our lord and saviour, the cinnamon roll of cinnamon rolls, Itadori Yuji. HERE is a person who is able to connect with Junpei, who wouldn’t dismiss how Junpei’s circumstances or feelings. and then Junpei dies.

(look at this cute face, how could you Mahito?!)

Also, the symbolism in the opening? The Junpei fish ENLARGING??? HNKDJSFLJDSF JUNPEI NOOO-

Also ALSO (sorry this is the last ‘also’), did we ever learn if Junpei was a sorcerer, or was he a window that possessed enough talent to summon a shikigami? I at first thought Junpei was a window, since he was able to see Mahito, and was hoping that we’d get a more detailed explanation of what windows actually do. (Do they just wander around Tokyo, or wherever they live, and act all ‘La Dee Da, just living my regular, normal life, oOOHHH is that a special grade? Tell that to the sorcerers, maybe I’ll get a bonus!’ Is their life basically a demented version of Pokemon Go? I have so many questions-)

All the villains were well written, and had super cool character designs. My top three villains other than Sukuna, my top three villains are Geto, and Mahito.

Geto’s backstory in the Hidden Inventory arc was so incredibly written, I especially liked the way Gege wrote how Getou’s righteous ideals gradually deteriorating throughout the Hidden Inventory arc as he realizes the depth of the curses of humanity, the dark hatred the “weak” hold towards things they have no understanding of. (i.e. Riko’s death by the Star Religious Group, Haibara’s death, and finally the villagers ignorant treatment and abuse towards Geto’s twins, Mimiko and Nanako, beating and imprisoning them for “causing” the deaths of the villagers) Geto’s chilling charisma and the reasoning behind his actions as a villain makes him a top tier villain in my eyes. 

As for Mahito, I love to hate him, and that why I think he is a great antagonist. I guess I’ve just been seeing a lot of villains that because of their tragic backstories, the readers or characters sympathize with them and rationalising their actions, turning the villain into a flaky antihero of lesser impact. It’s very refreshing to have a villain who is just pure evil. 

I think that Mahito fulfilled his purpose as an antagonist very well; his twisted ideals on the worth of human life foiling Itadori’s own ideals of giving others a “proper death”, the curse making Yuji continuously adapt both physically and mentally to defeat him. Physically, by learning new spells and techniques to defeat Mahito, such as the Black Flash (and possibly his own cursed technique! The weird “Past That Never Happened” in the fights with Choso and Todo), or mentally, by questioning his ideals, such as what exactly is a “proper death”, after Yuji had to kill the transfigured humans. 

(Ew look at this worm.)

Some Honorable Mentions of Good Villains IMO: Jogo, because I find his ideals of curses, who stem from the true emotions of hatred and fear, being superior yet suppressed by the emotionally faceted humans is definitely fascinating, and eerily reminds me of Geto’s hatred towards non sorcerers.  Dagon was pretty cute in his Cursed Womb stage, and I really liked Hanami because the eldritch environmentalist aesthetic is pretty coolio  👌 .

How do Inumaki children learn to speak if all the adults barely talk, only saying inane words like “salmon” and NOT ACTUALLY meaning “salmon, the fish” but an adult secret code for a definition that you might not even know?? Or do the adults just charmspeak the kids, like “SPEAK small child, and have full language comprehension, O tiny ball of pudge!” and boom! Babies talking in complete sentences, maybe understanding weird adult customs. Will the child know when then adult actually mean salmon, the fish, and not the code word salmon?

Let’s assume that Inumaki clan children from learning to speak to four or six years old will be able to speak normally until the clan technique sets in (because that’s when the jjk wiki says cursed techniques kick in). How do you explain to a toddler: “Hey sweetie, happy birthday, have a present! Oh, by the way, those cool tattoos of yours mean that you can’t talk normally to anybody anymore, EVER. Only using these specific words as code to mean these specific meanings, restricting any chance of normal interactions with non-sorcerers if by some inane chance you DON’T want to become a child soldier jujutsu sorcerer. Welp, guess you have to become a jujutsu sorcerer now! Make sure to restrict your choice of words, you could kill somebody! Have fun playing with your Legos honey, welcome to adult life.” Like, EXCUSE ME? 

You can’t tell mw a four year old is expected to understand that (or didn’t kill somebody by accident via cursed speech. That MUST have happened at least once). 

This is all an elaborate way of saying please give us Inumaki backstory, I’m very curious.

Anyways, thank you for reading my post, and I hope you have a nice day!

Screams Of The Quiet

Tw:death (childbed fever guys), reference to the Thomas and Elizabeth thing, reference to beheading

Catherine Parr went out of the world screaming.

She screamed in pain, agony. She screamed as she fought through pushing her child into the world. She screamed in defiance to the universe as she felt herself slipping away. She made the world hear her, ‘I am not leaving my child! Not with him, not in this world.’. Her screams haunted the people in the room for the rest of their lives, one of the loudest, most haunting noises ever heard.

‘I am not done yet. There is so much left for me here.’ The screams of a queen, of one of the strongest women you could know. In endless pain, all she could think about was her Mary and how much left she has to do. Screw Thomas, screw her title as dowager queen of England and Ireland. Screw life, for being so unfair. She needs to make amends with the Tudor children. She needs to help shape the new era of their country; someone has to, someone that actually cares about those kids.

She needs to raise her daughter.

Catherine has so many ideas for her daughter, so many things she wants to teach her. She needs to protect her, now knowing what an awful man her father really is. She can’t leave her here with him. She thinks of her mother, Maud Green, who raised her as a single woman and taught many children. The woman who taught the great Catherine Parr to survive. She learned so much from her mother. So much she wants to pass on to Mae, and yet she feels herself barely holding on, getting louder with each scream in a desperate attempt at staying alive though pure force of will.

She’s gotten so much quieter the older she gets, it's a shock to hear her like this as she goes. Growing up she was loud, if the world wanted to drown her out she’d scream over the masses to be heard. She kept that up well into her adult years. Then she got kidnapped for being too outspoken in her beliefs, along with her stepchildren. She was more careful after that. And then, with Henry, she worked so hard to keep him happy with her. But her outspoken and argumentative nature got the best of her again. She was almost killed, and kept her opinions close to her heart after that.

Marrying Thomas had been like being set free, until it wasn’t. She was fooled into it, fooled into thinking he was a good and loving man. He got angry with her too. Never threatening to kill her, but angry enough to scare her. Angry enough to scare Elizabeth too, he hurt that girl. Catherine will never forgive herself for being too afraid to do something, to say something. When did she become too afraid to speak? Perhaps that's why she loves writing so much, the ability to not speak and upset someone close enough to hurt her. A cowards hobby, but protection from her husband nonetheless.

She’s been quieter, still outspoken, but more careful. And now, with the ferocity she’s been suppressing, she screams and yells every thought that comes to her mind. ‘I am not done. There is so much left. I hate you.’ That last one is directed at Thomas, who looks all too shocked to hear it as he holds her hand. She’s squeezing it too hard for him to let go though, from pain or fear or out of anger neither will ever know. ‘I need to see my baby. I need to see her.’ This is his fault. He’d gotten her pregnant, after trying for one in four different marriages this is the man that gave her a baby. She has no ill will against the child, no, never that. But she’s dying and it’s not Mae’s fault, it’s Thomas’s.

With one last scream, the loudest yet, she gives birth to a baby girl. They attempt to give her to Thomas and she growls that they’d better not. They hand her the baby instead. Her baby. She died for this, or is dying, she knows, she wants to hold her.

Mae is a beautiful mess. She’s fairly heavy for a newborn, and looks a lot like Catherine herself. Like Catherine, she’s also covered in her mother's blood, and she’s screaming too. The similarity is jarring, because one has just been given life, and the other is about to pass away.

She feels herself slipping away, as her eyes close she hears Mae and Thomas crying for her. The last thing she feels is someone taking her baby from her hold. The last thing she thinks and says is ‘I love you.’ She cannot tell if it was meant for just her daughter or for them both. No time to dwell on it as she drifts away, though. Finally, finally silent.

2

When Catherine wakes up, she’s alone. Taking a moment to get her bearings, she realizes a few things. One, there is no more agonizing pain. Two, this room looks to be a bedroom, but she doesn’t recognize quite the items scattered around it. And three, there’s no sounds of a child anywhere near her.

She must be in heaven. She certainly died, and this place is strange enough to make her look around in wonder. She stands to walk to the door, maybe she can find an angel to explain. Maybe she can watch over Mae and the other children from here. As she walks towards the door though, a blinding pain shoots through her head.

Ah, so the pain is not over then.

When she emerges from the sensation she notices she’s fallen onto the floor. And that she has some new knowledge of where she is. She is in the future, not in heaven. She’s been reincarnated, and the world has vastly changed. There are still some missing bits, she hopes she has the opportunity to learn them herself if knowledge is given through painful means in this century. She sits up from her spot on the floor with a quiet grunt. The pain has completely subsided now, hopefully it stays gone.

Her door opens and she fights the urge to scream in fright. She looks at the person who walked in. Truthfully they look a bit frantic themselves, so Catherine doubts that they’ll be of any real help.

“You must be Cathy Parr then! We’ve been waiting for days!”

Catherine just looks at this woman. She can’t bring herself to speak. She’s always known just what to say in dangerous situations, but then she’d known who she was dealing with. Speaking up now when she has no idea who’s listening is risky. She doesn't trust herself to say the right thing. She doesn’t trust the woman who seems to know who she is.

The silence seems to be off putting to her visitor, who attempts to fill it.

“Right, so I know this is probably kind of scary. You’ve been reincarnated, new body and everything-“

New body? She immediately looks down to her hands, noticing that they are completely different now. How is it that she has the same consciousness and not the same body? Who’s body is this? Where did it come from?

“-My name is Katherine Howard, the others call me Kitty because there’s too many Catherine’s. You make the third, we’ve been calling you Cathy. I hope you’re okay with that.”

Catherine eyes her warily, still sitting on the floor. Katherine Howard. She knew her. She glances down at ‘Kitty’s’ neck, noting the scarf. She wonders what’s under there.

Noticing that the girl is looking at her clearly wanting an answer, Catherine nods. She has more pressing matters to worry over than a nickname. Why she’s alive being one of them. Why Katherine Howard, who she saw beheaded with her own eye, is alive being another.

“Good! I was the last one to wake up. It seems to have gone in order of marriage. You’re the last one, and your room is right next to mine. The others don’t know you’re here yet, I heard you fall and wanted to check first.”

It seems to have gone in order of marriage. She mulls over the word in her mind. This means that the ‘others’ mentioned must be all of Henry’s wives, given Katherine Howard was right before her.

“Would you like to meet the others?”

She wonders what would happen if she said no. Would Kitty be prepared for that answer? Would she just leave her here or would she try to convince her otherwise? She’s tempted to say no just to see what would happen, she might have if she didn’t think her guilt over messing with the girl would be overwhelming. She nods in response.

“Okay, do you need help getting up?”

Oh, right. She’s still on the floor. With a shake of her head she stands, gesturing to her now upright body with a small smile. Kitty laughs a bit at the gesture and tilts her head in the direction of the hall behind her.

“Let's go then!” She seems cheerful. Not at all like someone who had her head chopped off.

As they make their way down the hall Catherine trails a bit behind, observing every little thing. She gets a glimpse into the room next to hers, which she knows is Kitty’s. A lot of pink. She’d hazard a guess and say Kitty’s favorite color is pink. The hall walls are kind of plain, a nice light grey throughout. There are seven doors, all the same brown color except for one, which is a lighter brown than the others. She taps Kitty on the shoulder and gestures to the door, looking at it questioningly.

“Oh, that’s the bathroom.” Kitty goes and opens the door, showing her the strange room. As soon as Catherine lays eyes on the strange objects inside, she feels a white-hot pain. Kitty catches her on the way down, and when she finally comes back to her mind, she knows what that room is for. She groans in frustration from the fact that this pain seems to come with knowledge.

“Yeah, that happens whenever we find something new. It’s honestly kind of annoying. I’ve only been here for a few weeks, so it happens from time to time.”

That sounds like a promise that this pain will pop up again, and though it comes with information, it is not welcome. They go down a flight of stairs, and into a room her mind calls the living room. Odd, though fitting. There are several sofas and chairs in the room. It seems to be an area for comfort. There is a fireplace and several tables, and a few lamps, which are fascinating.

“Holy shit!”

Oh, and people. This room is filled with people, too.

“Anne, mind your tongue, will you?” Another woman scolds from her chair.

‘Anne’ opens her mouth to retort, but Kitty intervenes.

“Now is not the time! Everyone, this is Cathy. Cathy, everyone.”

They all stare at her expectantly, although she’s not sure what they could possibly be expecting from her. Looking around the room, all she can manage is a wave.

“She doesn’t talk much. But that’s okay, I think I explained things pretty well.”

Yes, and also no. The only reason Catherine has any idea what’s happening is from her newfound pain-knowledge and picking up on things Kitty has said and inferring what they mean. But she looks quite excited to have been the one to greet her, so Catherine nods at her with a warm smile, getting the girl to beam.

“Alright, I’m Anne von Cleve, you knew me before. I go by Anna now since there is another Anne. Makes things easier.”

Anna, right. Catherine did know her. They were certainly not friends, but it’s nice to see a familiar face. They’ll deal with any past tensions later.

“I’m the other Anne. Anne Boleyn.” The woman who said ‘holy shit’ when Catherine arrived jumps into the conversation not even a moment later. She knows Anne Boleyn, knew her child. She’s unable to fully look Anne in the eye.

“I’m Jane Seymour, are you feeling alright?”

Jane died the same way Catherine did. She knows the pain that her death brought. And she brought about Edward, the sweetest little boy she’d ever met. Though she’s unsure why Jane might be enquiring into her wellbeing while hardly even knowing her, so she just nods again.

“Good, coming back from the dead is a bit jarring.”

She nods rapidly at that. It is jarring. One moment she was dying a slow and agonizing death, then she died. And then the next she wakes up, just, not dead anymore. The shock of dying hasn’t worn off yet. When it does Catherine hopes to God she’s alone to deal with it.

“Catherine of Aragon.” The woman in the armchair introduces herself.

Catherine of Aragon. She’s Catherine’s godmother, her namesake.

“You may call me Catalina. I’m glad you made it to us okay.” The kindness and surety in the words makes everything she’s heard of the woman ring true. Catherine of Aragon, the true queen. Catherine had tried to emulate her in her reign.

“Are you hungry?” Kitty asks. And Catherine realizes that yes, she is quite hungry. Her stomach makes a noise in place of her mouth, causing everyone to laugh.

“It’s nearly dinner anyway. Reincarnation makes a person hungry.” Anna says that last bit as a joke. But it seems to be true, she wasn’t very hungry when she died. Though maybe she was in too much pain to notice. Or maybe this body hasn’t eaten? Who’s body even is this?

Before she can allow herself into an existential spiral, Jane beckons her into another room. The kitchen, her brain supplies. It looks nothing like a kitchen she would see in her last life. She very carefully examines the various items in the room, wary of any influx of painful knowledge. It comes when she looks at the stove. Falling in front of everyone is a bit embarrassing, but they all seem to get it. Anna catches her this time, and leads her to a chair to rest. Once the pain subsides, she knows what all the appliances in the room do.

Interesting.

“Those are annoying, I’m surprised you didn’t scream. Anna always screams.” Anne says once Catherine’s eyes have cleared of pain and confusion. 

Anna defends herself, “Not everyone had a super painful death, Anne. I was just really tired when I died.”

Anne rolls her eyes goodnaturedly, and then directs a question towards Catherine, one that is not yes or no answerable. Also, quite insensitive in topic.

“Okay, okay! Well, how did you die, Cathy?”

Anne talks a lot, it makes sense this was her main offense against Henry. Though Catherine shouldn’t judge, she talked a lot too.

Anna speaks up for her, telling them childbirth. Then she tells Anne to be more sensitive, not everyone talks about their deaths freely. Jane looks very sympathetic. She would be, she’d died in a similar fashion.

The conversation continues around her and eventually she is handed a plate of food. She should thank Catalina for it, it’d be incredibly rude not to. It’s already bad enough she hasn’t said a word yet. As they sit, Catherine Parr opens her mouth for the first time in this life to speak.

And nothing comes out.

The others don’t seem to judge her, though. There’s a ball of anxiety in her chest and the feeling reverberates through her whole body. That’s never happened before, and she silently makes a decision that she’s going to have to work on speaking.

Catalina smiles at her warmly, like she knows what Catherine was trying to say. Then they all continue their conversation, making sure to include her as much as possible while she tries and fails to convince herself to speak up.

This is strange. Just a moment ago (Years ago? When are they, exactly?) she’d been screaming. Now she can’t seem to make a noise. This life will be spent in silence, so it seems.

The Ghost of You, It Keeps Me Awake || Solo

TIMING: Present  LOCATION: Flemming Residence, The Woods SUMMARY: Miriam is visited by an old face. She doesn’t take it very well WARNINGS: Body Horror, Gore, Death

Or, a reminder that tigers never change their stripes, and Miriam is, was, and will always be the villain (even if it’s her own story). 

A glass of wine dosed generously with blood. A bathtub filled with bubbles from one of those strange, sweet smelling bombs that Morgan had gotten her. The cursed Alexa actually playing decent music, something soft and classical. All perfect ingredients for a nice day in. 

Miriam didn’t want to stay cooped up in her workshop, pouring over half finished products or cleaning bloodied instruments. She wanted a small break. She wanted to… oh, what was it called? Relax. She wanted to relax, and desperately. So she pulled her hair up and sunk in slowly to the claw-foot tub in her bathroom, feeling more than a little decadent. The wine was nice, the hint of iron bringing out the other, sweeter flavors. She sank down into the water until her nose was completely covered, leaned her hand back, and closed her eyes. She let the music soothe her and willed herself to thinking. This was a relaxing time, not a thinking time. She just needed a bit of a think-free time.

There was a half-finished drawing on her bedside table, a portrait of Theo as she remembered him. She’d been thinking about him far too much, lately, hence her need to not think. More than just thinking about him, she was remembering him far too fondly, all the good times they’d had together. Trips to the lake on hot summer days, going to the movies, candlelit date nights, whispers of sweet nothings in the dark. And he’d faked all of that. There had been no love for her, only for her money, what it could do for him and his rotten coven.

The drawing was half finished because she kept destroying them, throwing his face into fires and garbage disposals. Miriam knew that Elle had found the remnants of one shredded drawing on the kitchen table when she’d watched the house a few nights before, but her assistant hadn’t said anything, merely cleaned the area up and left Miriam a bar of chocolate in its place. Elle didn’t ask questions; what she knew about Miriam’s life was what Miriam had deemed fit to tell the girl, and Elle didn’t blab. It was one of the many things she liked about her. 

Miriam sank down even further into the water, completely submerging and chastising herself. There would be no thinking, not right now. And so she didn’t. She simply stayed submerged in the water, listening to music until the water went cold and the incessant sounds of the ridiculous teeny bopper band that she’d recently learned was called Vampire Weekend started playing on the Alexa, forcing her to emerge from the water to scream at it to shut up.

Reaching for her wine glass, Miriam was going to give herself just a few extra minutes before she drained the tub and dried off. Except there was no wine glass. Miriam’s eyes brinked open.

Theo was not as she remembered him. Rather, he was sitting beside her tub as she’d killed him. Half dressed, half skinned, pale, and with dark, sunken eyes. He’d died of blood loss before she’d even made it above his hips. Her first time skinning someone alive, and it had been messy. She’d cried, too, as he cursed her name to hell and back.

Miriam jerked away from him. Theo took a sip of her wine.

“You even drink blood pretentiously,” he said, his nose wrinkling at the contents of the glass. He smacked his bloodless lips with a bloodless tongue.

“You aren’t real,” Miriam said. He wasn’t. He couldn’t be. She couldn’t smell him, couldn’t hear his wicked heart beating in his wretched chest. He was just another nightmare, a waking one this time, one that had tricked her into thinking she’d brought a glass one wine into the bathroom when she hadn’t. She hadn’t. This wasn’t real. “And I have no desire to deal with any more frivolous fantasy versions of you. Go away, Theo.” She stood up, soaking wet, and grabbed a robe before getting out of the bath. If she didn’t need a drink before, she certainly did as she avoided looking at him. He was just a figment of her imagination. Nothing more. Never anything more. 

“Oh, I’m very real, baby,” he said, his glassy eyes trained on her every move. “I thought, of all people, you’d know better than to not believe in ghosts.”

“Then you’ve finally decided to haunt me after all these years?” she asked. She laughed, the sound of it ringing bitter and hollow.

Theo grinned, taking another sip of her bloody wine. Apparently, even apparitions could grow fond of the taste. “I’ve been given an opportunity. I couldn’t let it pass me by.”

“You’re thirty years too late with any sort of opportunity, darling,” she spat out as she passed him, expecting to go right through him.

Except he was solid. His hand reached out and grabbed her arm, gripping it tightly, so tightly. Miriam jerked away from him, shocked. Theo held firm, his grin full of blood stained teeth almost reaching his eyes.

“I think I’m just in time, darling.” He leaned forward. He didn’t smell, but she could feel his breath on her cheek. It was unnerving. “You killed me, and that would have been enough, but you just had to keep going, didn’t you?”

“You ruined me, you--”

“No, I made you happy, you stupid bitch. I gave you a loving husb--”

“Bullshit!” She pulled away from him this time, her eyes flashing red and her teeth sharp, deadly. She would kill him again if she could. “You didn’t love me. You never loved me! You loved money, and when I ran out you would have left as quickly as you came.”

Theo sneered. “And I thought the Flemming family would never run out of money.”

“Fuck you!” Miriam shrieked, her voice hurting even her own ears. “Fuck you! You lied to me! You never loved me, and you lied to me!”

“And you killed me!”

Miriam looked over at this man, this corpse in her bathroom. Solid though he was, real though he seemed, he was nothing compared to her. Because, as he said, she killed him, and she could do it again. “Then we’re even.”

Theo got up in her face then. She’d forgotten how tall he was, especially when she wasn’t wearing heels. Neither of them looked as put together as they had in pictures. Her, with her wet hair and red, vampiric eyes. Him with his pale parlor and bleeding wounds. A ghoul and a ghost. Even in death, they made a miserable pair. At least, now, they both realized how miserable they were.

“You killed my family,” he said quietly, almost confused. “Me? I can understand me. But my mother? My aunts and uncles and cousins? Gilly?” His voice cracked, and she looked away. Gilly was still recent on her own mind, though it had been months. “They’d cared for you. They didn’t know why I brought you into my life, just that we all benefited from it, and they’d liked you far more than your own damn family had liked me.”

“They all deserved to die,” Miriam said, shaking her head. “They all deserve to die. All of you. Every last, wretched witch.”

Theo looked like he was suffering, and she took a sick amount of pleasure in it, even if her stomach twisted. It was just like when she killed him the first time. “And, what, Miri? You gonna kill us all?”

“Yes,” she snarled. She shoved past him into her room, and he followed, leaving bloody footprints in the wake of her wet ones.

“You can’t. It’s not possible. You can’t even leave the damn town line.”

“Watch me, you bastard.” She dried off her hair. In a flurry, she started getting ready, even though she had hours before the sun sank below the horizon, yanking open drawers and pulling shirts off hangers. She laid her jacket out on the bed, and he walked over to it, fingers just barely grazing it. “Don’t touch.”

“Why not?” he asked. “It’s mine.”

“Not any more.” She proceeded to ignore him as she spent hours prepping. Eventually, she watched him die all over again, and she looked away, unwilling to watch.

She strutted out, passed Elle, and drove off without a word.

***

Miriam licked her lips and looked over her handy work.

Far from her first time, she wasn’t nearly as messy with the middle aged alchemist she had pinned to a barren tree by her hands, her skin flayed from muscle and her muscle flayed from bone. She hadn’t even gotten any of the blood on her. Good. 

She kept her face impassive, stared for as long as she could before the scene in front of her no longer looked real. It was a painting from the Renaissance, a monument in the Louvre. It was ghastly and horrifying, and it satisfied her.

She fed off the scene before her, its pain and misery, just as it fed from her. 

When she was done looking, she doused the tree in gasoline and lit it on fire. After all, she was a witch hunter. All good witch hunters knew that the best way to dispose of a witch was to burn them.

That’s what she’d done with what was left of Theo, all those years ago.

She’d stay until there was nothing but ashes left, and she tried to tell herself that the feeling in her chest was pride over another witch dead. 

Out of the corner of her eye, she could have sworn to see a gathering of people ready to welcome another of their own to the other side. Theo was among them. Gilly, too. They both looked away from her. She looked away from them, as well.

Wᴇ Cᴏᴍᴇ Rᴜɴɴɪɴɢ - Tʜᴇ 100 Bᴇʟʟᴀᴍʏ x OC - Cʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 45: Mᴀʀᴋɪɴɢ Tᴇʀʀɪᴛᴏʀʏ

A/N: We’re back baby! It’s taken me a little while but I’ve worked through my crap and I honestly have too much love for this story to let it go. I have so many plans and I’m still committed to developing Bellamy and Indigo’s relationship and journey. I’ll be continuing to use GIF’s because I actually still have not seen the entire show so it’s impossible for me to recast at this point. I’m in process of watching season 3 now as I like to go into things as blind as Indie does. If you’re not able to return to this story, that’s okay and thank you for all of your support so far. For everyone still here, your love for this story means the world to me <3

Masterlist

Rating: Mature

Summary: During her time in the Skybox, Indigo formed a precious friendship with fellow outcast Octavia Blake, the girl under the floor. At first they thought their departure from the oppression of the Ark was a blessing, but quickly came to rely on Indigo's keen survival instincts. The 100 struggle to meet the challenges of Earth whilst Bellamy strives to lead the wavering teenagers and his irresponsible attitude fuels constant conflict with Indigo. Their only shared interest is in protecting Octavia and Indigo beings to suspect that there is a deeper cause to Bellamy's seemingly irrational choices. As the consequences of his actions mount up around him, he finally begins to confide in her and she discovers more than she ever bargained for.

Fandom: CW’s The 100

Pairing: OC x Bellamy Blake

LONG TERM ONGOING PROJECT :)

My writing is entirely fuelled by coffee! If you enjoy my work, feel free to donate toward my caffeine dependency: will work for coffee

Warnings: Mature content. Non-consent, language, sex, self harm, suicide, anxiety, helplessness, torture, captivity/confinement, alcohol/drug use.

Chapter Forty-Five

My shift finally drew to a close, leaving me exhausted and I felt that I had worked off enough of my earlier anger to only be left with a simmering bitterness. I wandered toward Bellamy’s quarters with a knot in my stomach as I expected an argument and for a moment I considered whether to simply hide in dorms for the night. I took a steadying breath before stepping inside and found Bellamy in the middle of undressing for bed. He turned at the sound of the door and a tired smile spread across his overworked face as he noticed me.

“You’re back.” He breathed with a tone of relief and I wondered if he hadn’t expected me to return.

“I am.” I replied awkwardly as I waited in the doorway for any indication of his mood.

There wasn’t any visible anger in his demeanour, or I was stunned to find that he didn’t seem to be interested in causing a fight between us. Instead, he simply continued to prepare for bed and I slid my jacket off casually as I strolled further into the room to place it on a chair. I considered removing my trousers and simply climbing into bed, as the desperately tired part of my brain demanded that I sleep immediately, but I was still unsure if I were welcome here following his earlier remarks. I turned toward the bed to confront Bellamy, but was immediately cut off as he stepped into my space to draw me into a heated kiss. My breath hitched at the sudden contact as his hands squeezed my hips and I had to lean against the dresser to brace myself against his enthusiasm.

My mind was reeling at his unexpected energy and I realised that my expectations of this evening were completely incorrect. He gathered me against his chest and my entire body thrummed with excitement, despite the concerned thoughts still buzzing around in the back of my mind. For once, I was annoyed with the intoxication of his touch and knew that the tension of this morning still lingered in the back of both of our minds. I tore myself away from his lips with an overpowering reluctance and attempted a stern expression, but he simply moved to peppering kisses along my neck as he threaded a hand into my hair.

“Bel.” I hoped to be authoritative and although it was clear from my tone that I wanted his attention, his name fell from my lips in a far more breathy manner than I had intended. He groaned against my skin and as he dragged himself up to meet my eyes, I acknowledged that he didn’t appreciate the interruption.

“I don’t want to talk.” He clarified and despite how direct his words were, I couldn’t detect an ounce of malice in his voice, nor any indication of the attitude that he’d addressed me with this morning. Instead, there was something vulnerable in his eyes that made me wonder if his overnight adventures had affected him more than he was currently willing to admit.

“Then, what do you want?” I asked with a frown and I knew that he understood that I was referring to more than just in this moment. The way that he’d spoken as if there was a deep hurt earlier had left me doubtful if he’d even want me here and if we weren’t going to discuss it, I would at least give him the option to tell me if he wanted me to leave after this.

“You. I want you.” He asserted as he stared into my eyes and I was relieved that we understood each other so well. When he next pressed his lips to mine, there was an urgency that spurred me forward. Before I could think twice about talking, he had twisted us around to lower me to the bed. I knew from the desperation of his actions that he craved the distraction and he barely paused enough to allow me to gather my thoughts. Okay, we can talk about this later. 

***

My new routine of training in the morning and working shifts in mechanical in the afternoon allowed a week to fly past without my notice. Monty remained adamant that I didn’t shoulder too much of the strain and so on days that I had an afternoon available, I found myself assisting with preparing food for the camp whilst Bellamy was busy in meetings or training sessions. There had been no mention of the conversation by the gates and although Bellamy behaved awkwardly every time that he caught me on route to a shift, he hadn’t mentioned Knox at all since. I hadn’t decided how to bring this up in a way that would allow for a conversation rather than a confrontation. Things between us were still fresh and I was nervous that addressing this might trigger a conversation about what the nature of our relationship was. I’d already grown comfortable in our warm routine and I didn’t want to jeopardise it by asking for more. For the time being, I had decided to simply enjoy every moment for what it was and to not obsess over the longevity of it.

Now that I was beginning to regain my strength, my lessons with Octavia and Lincoln had intensified and although I’d given the stipulation that they couldn’t cover me in bruises, they’d mastered getting as close as possible without leaving marks. I felt confident in my progression and discovered that it was a helpful method of both burning off the anger that I buried inside and leaving me too exhausted to spend the entire night filled with nightmares. I considered it an achievement to have simply reduced the number of painful visions that haunted my sleep and I embraced any progress that I could gain. 

After a particularly intense morning, I settled in the courtyard of camp to wind down. Monty had taken the shift in mechanical and I hadn’t yet volunteered for kitchen duty, which allowed me the chance to savour the cool midday air. 

“Hey Indigo, enjoying some time off?” A nervous voice drew my attention and I glanced up to find Knox smiling at me bashfully.

“Hey bud.” I cheered as I leaned back in a relaxed manner and smiled encouragingly at my insecure companion. “Yeah, Monty wouldn’t let me have the shift so I’ll probably just hit the kitchen again.” I commented lightly and he nodded.

“That explains it.” He muttered and I tilted my head quizzically at him. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you not working somewhere, or training. I didn’t realise you knew how to take a break.” He added with a sly smile and I gasped in surprise.

“And I didn’t realise you were a smartass!” I remarked as I jabbed at him playfully and he chuckled. “Did Wick give you any more crazy assignments yet?” I enquired with interest and he detailed the latest impossible task that he’d been given to share with Raven’s equally talented science friend. Knox had filled me in on some camp rumours that there was some kind of romance going on between her and Wick, and I retained this information to investigate when I had the opportunity to catch Raven alone. I glanced to my side to notice one of the kitchen staffers crossing the courtyard. “Hold that thought Knox, I’ll be right back.” I chirped as I rushed over to meet them and arranged to assist with preparing meals later on. Once she left, I turned to find Bellamy standing silently beside me and jolted so hard that I actually felt my soul leave my body for a moment.

“Jesus, don’t do that!” I gasped as I held a hand to my chest and he shook his head as he smiled in amusement. “Seriously, it’s creepy! Couldn’t you...I don’t know, stomp your feet or make a noise or something when you approach to give me a warning? You’re so damn stealthy.” I blurted and he couldn’t contain a snort of laughter at my comments.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” He chuckled as he placed his hands in his pockets in a relaxed posture. “Good workout?” He asked with a hint of a smirk and I pursed my lips at him before breaking into a playful smile.

“Oh yeah, I beat the crap out of both of them.” I joked as I mimicked some speedy punches and he smiled warmly at my childish display. It didn’t last long as I quickly realised that I didn’t have enough energy remaining and sighed in exhaustion.

“Easy Xena, you’ll put me out of a job soon. We won’t need guards at this rate.” He teased with a bemused expression and I found my mouth dropping open in surprise.

“See, this is why I keep you around! You get my dorky references.” I crooned with an overly enthusiastic tone and he rolled his eyes in disappointment. He glanced over my shoulder for a split second and his smile faded as he focused on something. I peeked in the direction that he was staring and easily calculated that it was Knox’s awkwardly waiting form that he was watching. Bellamy returned his attention to me and the playful glitter had faded from his eyes as he tried to force a casual tone.

“So, that’s Knox, huh?” He enquired and although he strained to mask the tension in his voice, it was still crystal clear to me. I had to wonder if he had been investigating in camp to acquire a description of him, or whether he simply assumed since Knox was the only unfamiliar face that I had spoken to.

“Yes, that’s Knox.” I stated matter of factly and determinedly declined to add any further comment. If he wanted to know something in particular, he was going to have to ask.

“He seemed interested in you. What did he want?” Bellamy quizzed as the tension between the two of us only grew with every word and I cocked a brow at him in confusion.

“He didn’t want anything, we just chatted. He’s not used to seeing me relax so I think he was confused.” I explained with an amused tone to clarify that this was an insignificant conversation but this only seemed to rile Bellamy further. I witnessed his gaze drift back over my shoulder and when he next viewed me, he shuffled on the spot with a certain stressed energy about him.

“I don’t like him chatting to you. He’s practically hanging off you, it’s weird.” He stated firmly and I felt my brows shoot up in surprise. Knox had been consistently friendly since the moment we met and I could tell that he simply looked up to the entire group that had survived here before they arrived. I suspected he probably admired Bellamy as a leader more than the others, if he would only take the time to notice.

“What are you even talking about?” I breathed as I viewed him with disbelief and I caught his stern face as he returned his gaze to Knox. The intensity of his stare would make even the toughest of our camp members bolt and I could see poor Knox squirming out of the corner of my eye. “Stop glaring at him.” I hissed but his scowl remained focused as if I hadn’t even spoken.

“I’m not.” He stated in a distracted tone without even attempting to cover his blatant ignorance and I crossed my arms in annoyance.

“Bellamy!” I growled and the sharpness of my tone finally seemed to pull him from his intimidation mission. I gave him an unimpressed gesture and he shifted awkwardly as he met my eyes. I scanned between him and Knox, and my mind finally pieced together the information that I was presented. I could hardly believe what I was about to ask, but I couldn’t theorise any other logical explanation for his bizarre behaviour. “Are you jealous?” I interrogated and his eyes widened at my accusation.

“What?” He breathed and I held my expectant gaze as I awaited an answer. “No!” He spat defensively and fidgeted nervously on the spot in an effort to conceal his aggravation. I felt a lurch in my gut at his reaction and kicked myself for not realising what I was dealing with sooner. Bellamy always seemed so full of confidence that I had never imagined he would be jealous. A memory stirred in the back of my mind of his reaction when I tended to Murphy in the dropship after his torture and I realised that it was absolutely a weakness of his. “What do I have to be jealous of? He’s just a kid.” He scoffed and I struggled to contain a laugh, until I caught him sneaking a brief glare at Knox again.

“Exactly, he’s just a kid. So why are you giving him the death stare?” I investigated and he turned back to me as if he hadn’t done anything. I couldn’t think how I was going to deal with this situation if he wouldn’t even admit to his part in it and I pitied Knox for drawing the ire of someone so intimidating for no good reason. I thought Bellamy understood how impossible it was for anyone to lure me away from him and considered voicing these reassurances, but I was still too nervous to put my feelings into words in case it scared him off.

“I just don’t trust him, he wasn’t part of our camp.” He excused and I rolled my eyes at his blatant omission of the truth. I knew that the fact that Knox wasn’t here before was likely the foundation of the issue, but I suspected that it was specifically because he hadn’t witnessed the development of the bond between Bellamy and I. Everyone from our old camp knew that I was off limits, without him having to label us as anything. I calculated that Bellamy was uncomfortable with the fact that I hadn’t been marked as unavailable to this particular male. Whilst lost in thought, I didn’t notice Bellamy stepping closer until he carefully brushed my hair behind my ear with a flirtatious expression. 

“Did I mention that you look pretty today?” He drawled and I couldn’t contain a snort of laughter at his new tactic.

“Don’t change the topic.” I warned with a blatant lilt of amusement. He brought his hands to rest on my hips as he closed into my space and bit his lip in a way that he knew drove me wild. I willed myself not to be distracted by his sly methods and held my ground for as long as I could.

“I’m not. I just can’t help being distracted by you.” He crooned as he leaned in to place a lingering kiss on my cheek and I fixed him with a suspicious look when he met my eyes again.

“I know what you’re doing Bel.” I groaned as I caught him glancing over to check that Knox was watching and I sighed in exasperation at his ridiculous, testosterone fuelled competition.

“Ditch work. I have a couple hours free.” He whispered, before busying himself with trailing kisses from my cheek down my neck and I struggled to concentrate despite my best efforts as he pulled me flush to him. I glanced over at Knox who was awkwardly trying to figure out what to do with himself as he tried to act as if he hadn’t seen anything and knew that Bellamy had already accomplished his goal. At this point, convincing me into bed was just an additional prize and he was doing frustratingly well at earning it. He straightened up to meet my eyes with a keen smile and although I battled to retain my stern expression, I could feel that it didn’t reach my eyes. 

“I thought you didn’t like rules, Love.” He teased as he gradually tilted his head to press his lips to mine and I felt my eyes involuntarily drift closed. It was impossible to reason with him when he resorted to these kinds of tactics and underneath the swirling attraction of my body, I was fuming with myself for giving in to him. I felt myself resting on his chest and as he wound his fingers into my hair, I knew that I had already lost the battle. As we parted for air, I glazed up at him with an arousal obvious in my eyes and he smiled smugly in return.

“You’re a terrible influence.” I stated in a breathy voice as he led me inside the Ark in a victorious strut.

***

The following day Bellamy was gone before I woke again. I couldn’t deny the feeling that he was avoiding discussing his behaviour and my mind obsessed over my recent actions constantly for any error on my part. As a result of my lack of focus, Octavia hammered me with attacks during our session and she eventually ended it early out of frustration. I found myself wandering camp aimlessly as I was completely lost in thought and felt too awkward at the idea of seeing Knox to volunteer for a shift in mechanical. 

Instead, I sought out a quiet spot on camp to reflect where I hoped that I wouldn’t be easily found. Despite all of my internal analysis, I couldn't think of any interactions between Knox and I that could be interpreted as inappropriate and was therefore stuck at the same dead end as before on what I could do to fix this issue with Bellamy. There was a set of footsteps that I was vaguely aware of in my vicinity but I paid it little attention until they approached me and someone cleared their throat as they dropped into a seat opposite.

“You look like you have a lot on your mind.” I glanced up to find Harper examining me with a fond expression and was immediately relieved.

“Pretty sure that’s just my default expression. I honestly can’t remember a time where I didn’t have much to think about.” I stated with an amused smile and she shrugged in response. “Sorry I haven’t checked in with you since we got back. How are you managing?” I enquired with a genuine interest as I leaned forward to examine her. Although our conversations had been limited, Harper had always been kind to me, especially in our time in captivity and it left an enduring fondness for her.

“It’s okay, we’ve all had a lot on our plates, especially with reunions.” She sighed before fixing me with a knowing look that wasn’t filled with mischief or teasing like Octavia or Raven, but simply appreciation for my happiness. “It’s an adjustment, being outside again and with our own people. It’s different to before and there’s something bizarre about living back inside the Ark of all things. I think it’ll take some time to get used to for all of us.” She explained thoughtfully and I hummed in agreement. It was a comfort to discover that I wasn’t the only person here who found this transition challenging and I found that she quickly minimised the anxiety that I was feeling with just her calm company. “I’m glad to have other people around who understand what we went through in there, it makes it easier to deal with the after effects and nightmares.” She muttered as my brows furrowed in concern.

“You’re having them too, huh?” I revealed and her face contorted into a mixture of pity and relief. “Everything heals with time, right?” I added with a supportive smile. “If you ever need to talk about it, I’ve always got time for you Harp. You were there for me at my worst, I want you to know that I’m grateful and I won’t ever forget it.” I divulged as I fidgeted awkwardly on the spot and she smiled thankfully. It was difficult for me to discuss my feelings with new people and although I felt it was important to say, I still felt uncomfortable.

“Thanks. I know I’ll get there eventually, it’s just a process. Monty had been a godsend.” She commented idly and I felt the corners of my lips twitch up toward a smile as she peaked my interest.

“Monty, huh?” I repeated with a forced casual tone and as she avoided meeting my eyes, she cleared her throat uncomfortably. “Yeah, he’s a great guy, easily the most dependable person I’ve met. He’s also kind and wise, and probably the best person you could lean on for support right now. He’ll steer you right, he always has me.” I detailed honestly and when she next met my eyes, I could tell that she already knew all of these things.

“You know, if I didn’t already know about you and Bellamy, I’d think you had a thing for Monty.” She remarked in a way that tried to sound careless, but I knew these kinds of false offhand comments too well to be fooled. I’d used this method many times before when denying my feelings for Bellamy and I was inwardly thrilled to find her speaking of Monty in such a way. I scoffed at her words as genuine laughter escaped me at this idea. 

“Monty is like my little brother, Harp. Jasper too. I absolutely treasure them, but from day one there has never been a question of anything else between us.” I informed her with an overwhelming delight and it was obvious that she was pleased to hear this. “And if it weren’t for Monty’s tendency to gossip like a teenage girl, you wouldn’t know about my lovelife either.” I added with a quirked brow and she snorted in disbelief.

“Right, cause that’s a total secret.” She drawled and I shook my head at her with entertainment. I didn’t mind Harper’s comments as I knew that they were harmless and tried not to allow her words to take root in my mind. “So, Monty’s not involved with you?” She specified and I knew immediately from my own experiences exactly what she truly meant to ask.

“Monty’s not involved with anyone and yes, I’m sure because that boy can’t keep a secret to save his life.” I chuckled and she quickly relaxed at my confirmation. “And as far as I’m aware, if you were to express an interest, it would be well received.” I crooned with a playful wink and her cheeks rapidly flushed.

“I didn’t - I wasn’t - I mean-” She rapidly stuttered as she waved her hands in panic and I smiled smugly at her. I considered taunting the admission from her as my other girlfriends had so often done to me, but as I was in her shoes not so long ago, I decided to cut her some slack.

“Hmm, of course.” I commented finally as I decided not to pursue the topic any further. The seed had been sewn in her mind, now I just had to be patient and allow it to grow. She cleared her throat and seemed to be struggling to think of something else to discuss. My unique understanding of her situation would not allow me to leave her to flounder any longer and so I offered a new line of conversation for her to escape through. “How are you finding guard duty? I didn’t expect you to be so quick to throw yourself back into the fire.” I enquired with genuine interest and she shrugged casually.

“Why not? I was trained in the original group at our old camp; it felt like a waste to not use those skills again.” She explained and I nodded in understanding. I had already forgotten that she was originally part of Bellamy’s militia and found myself hoping that her new post would help to rebuild her confidence following the especially exaggerated trauma that she had from her experiences in Mount Weather. “It’s going well, obviously the first patrol didn’t exactly go to plan, but since when does anything on Earth.” She commented and I sniggered at her point. I couldn’t think of a single plan that had gone ahead without issue since we arrived. “It’s nice to have a purpose, I think that’s why most of us joined. There’s a few people who weren’t at the original camp who are there for not so great reasons, but maybe the experience will help to toughen them up.” She stated with a maturity that demonstrated the hardships she had survived and I tilted my head at her quizzically.

“How do you mean?” I questioned and she shuffled awkwardly as if she had said something that she didn’t mean to.

“Well, prime example. There’s this girl called Mel, she’s the sole survivor from factory station. She volunteered for a guard post and she’s done the training, but it just feels totally hollow. I’m pretty sure she only joined because Bellamy is teaching and she seems more like she’s checking him out than actually paying attention to what he’s saying. She was gushing to some of the others about how he saved her from a cliffside when we were in Mount Weather and how she thinks he’s so selfless and dedicated. I’m just getting sick of watching her flirt with him when she should be concentrating on staying alive. Then there’s Ray, who’s only focus is on killing anything that threatens us because she’s terrified and Max who’s just there to show off.” She ranted in a way that I’d never seen her speak before and it was clear that she needed to get these thoughts off her mind. I listened quietly and tried not to be aggravated by her description of this girl’s behaviour around Bellamy. 

“I don’t know, I don’t want to sound jaded but it’s just kinda frustrating having them there. I know it’s not their fault but they’re so unaware. It feels like they’re at the point we were when we first landed and we already went through those growing pains to become smarter. We constantly have to watch out for them so they don’t get themselves killed and I just don’t have the patience to babysit a bunch of kids who aren’t taking this seriously. Does that make me a bad person?” She slowed as she came to this question and met my eyes with a regretful vulnerability. 

“No, it just makes you human.” I breathed with an understanding smile. “It’s okay to feel frustrated, like you said, we already did this. We just have to try to be patient with them and give them a chance to grow. Hopefully they won’t have it as hard as we did.” I advised as I thought back to Knox’s conversation about the change in Monty and Jasper. It was only natural for our two groups to be at odds at the moment, we were vastly different and our life experiences had shaped us to be cold and distrusting. I hoped that with time we might be able to learn from each other and meet somewhere in the middle. As I reflected on this, Harper sighed in relief as if a weight had been lifted from her and observed me closely.

“You don’t have to worry about Mel, I’m honestly sorry that I even brought her up.” She stated sheepishly and my eyes shot up to meet hers in surprise. “When Bellamy was out on that patrol, it was obvious that all he could think about was getting safely back to you.” She revealed and I found myself smiling despite my best efforts to conceal my emotions. “I’m glad to see you together, you balance each other out well, you know. He has brought back the personality in you and you bring out the best in him.” She added thoughtfully and I chuckled lightly at her analysis. “You’re a cute couple.” She teased with a wink and I rolled my eyes at her.

“We’re not a couple. And Bellamy can flirt with whoever he wants.” I stated adamantly as I crossed my arms and she stared back at me with disbelief.

“Whatever you say.” She crooned and I knew that she was exacting vengeance for my earlier taunting. “Well, I’ll keep you updated on the Mel situation, just in case you decide you care.” She winked and I rolled my eyes at her.

The Truth

A Hummingbird thing I wrote for no reason.

It was far too perfect a day for what was about to transpire. The winter storms had finally subsided, letting the sun shine brightly on Patch for the first time in weeks.The blanket of fresh snow remained pristine upon the ground; as if no creature, big or small, wished to break its surface. The surrounding forest laid decorated by ice and frost, the gentle light turning it into a magnificent sight to behold. But even on such a beautiful day and warmed by a crackling hearth, the Xiao Long household remained uneasy.

Summer rose stood alone once again in her friend’s kitchen, solemnly staring out the window to picturesque wilderness. She held a fresh cup of hot cocoa in her off hand, patiently waiting for it to cool. As the minutes ticked by, Summer delicately caressed her ever growing baby bump; doling out a heavy breath with every stroke. It amazed her how much she had swelled since that passion fueled night 3 months ago. What amazed her even further what that Taiyang hadn’t noticed it yet. Guess they’re more benefits to wearing a cloak than meets the eye.

Everything about her pregnancy thus far had been surprisingly manageable. The morning sickness, the aches and pains, all child’s play by comparison to her life as a huntress. Hell, even Professor Port’s lectures had been much worse. No… it was the anticipation that fueled her dread. To finally come clean to Taiyang and tell him the truth. About Qrow… and how she was carrying his child.

The sudden creak of the front door opening drew her gaze away from the window. For a moment, she panicked thinking it was Tai, but was instantly relieved when Qrow stepped into the kitchen. The two shared a warm smile before Summer decided to break the silence.

“Want some cocoa?” she asked lovingly “Water’s still hot.”

“I’d love some” Qrow answered jovially. “Thanks, Smallfry.”

“No Problem Beanstalk.” Summer fired back.

Summer then began darting around the kitchen, fetching what she needed. Qrow took the opportunity to waltz on up and embrace her from behind. He wrapped his arms around her small frame, perching his chin on the top of her head. His hands found themselves nuzzling their baby to be. Summer was pleasantly surprised at how warm her man was, despite him being out in the cold no more than a few minutes ago. She beamed radiantly and let his warmth envelope her; stroking the length of his forearm.

She very much wished this moment could last forever, but knew the world wasn’t so kind. Summer let out a shaky breath and began to pull away. Puzzled, Qrow tugged on her arm.

“Hey, What’s wrong?” He coaxed preemptively.

“Tai’s gonna be back soon.” Summer said bluntly “We probably shouldn’t… at least not until after we tell him.”

The silence that followed seemed to fill the entire room. It was a day they hoped would never come, but Summer’s pregnancy had seen it rushed forward. Now they were mere moments before Tai walked through front door; mere moments before their lie came undone. Summer trembled at the thought. She rushed back into Qrow’s embrace and squeezed him tight, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“I’m scared, Qrow. For the first time, I don’t know what to do.”

It was quite the role reversal indeed. Normally it was Qrow stressing over every little thing his semblance could entangle itself in, but now it was his fearless leader coming apart at the seams. The young man took his partner’s hands in his own and did something he never expected from himself: he acted as her emotional support.

“Shhhh, It’s gonna be okay. We’ve made through tough scrapes before. This is just another in a verrrry long list.”

“But he might never forgive us. And Yang, she still needs a mother, Qrow. He might never let us, might never let ME see her again.”

“Hey… Breathe a little. Sum, we owe him the truth, but that doesn’t mean he’s obligated to like it. Tai can push us away all he likes, but that doesn’t change the fact her still needs… well, you. Trust me, we’ll get through this, I promise.”

“That’s not super reassuring.” Summer joked snidely “Especially coming from you.”

“Hmph, Well I guess your optimism is starting to rub off on me.”

His endearing confidence was remarkable comforting to her. In the years being together, Qrow had seldom shown any of the sort. It was nice to know her constant encouragement was paying off. No more Cursed Qrow.

“Summer?! You home?” a voice called from the foyer, “Hello?”

The all too friendly voice made Summer’s heart nearly pop out of her chest. She instinctively reached or more like scrambled for Qrow’s hand. Her tiny hand clenched his as a shaky breath escaped her lungs. Her grip was tight, but Qrow didn’t mind. They two looked at each other one last time before they took the plunge. Their eyes said the same thing; This was it, no more lies. With one last deep breath, Summer found the resolve to speak.

“I’m in here, Tai!” she replied, letting go of Qrow’s hand.

The jovial young man practically pranced into the kitchen, wearing his trademark dopey grin across his face. It somehow managed to stretch even further when he laid eyes upon his best friend, whom he hadn’t seen in ages. Tai nearly tackled Qrow when his leaned in for their “bro-shake” then casually wrapped his arm around Summer.

“Jeez, man why didn’t you tell you coming back?” Tai inquired cheerfully “I would’ve bought beers.”

“It was a pretty sudden thing for me too. But Y’know how Oz is.” Qrow answered stalely, trying to ignore Tai’s arm draped over Summer’s shoulder. “Plus, I wanted it to be a surprise.”

“Well considered me surprised. How long do you plan on staying?”

“A week or two depending. Oz hasn’t gotten back to me yet.”

“Well, you’re more than welcome to stay til he does.”

Each and every word Taiyang spoke felt like a gut punch. He had no idea how much he would regret saying that. Both Summer and Qrow shifted uncomfortably. Reading the situation, Tai grew more and more suspicious of his teammates. In his own unique way, he pointed it out like it was nothing.

“You guys alright? You’ve both been strangely quiet since I got back”

Shit. The one time Tai had to be observant they both thought. Qrow was about ready to conjure up another bullshit excuse, but before he could even open his mouth, Summer had pushed him aside. She shot him a look he’d seen too many times; a look he knew meant ‘let me handle this’. Summer’s fingers began to tremble so hard she clenched them til they went numb. Tai, still waiting on an answer, grew more confused as his friends continued to fumble over themselves.

“Tai.” Summer announced shakily, looking in her friend square in the eye. “I’m pregnant.”

The words echoed off the walls, through the corridors, and in and out of Taiyang’s ears. He just stood there like a stump, the shock sucking the air out of his lungs. Even Qrow wasn’t expecting her to so blunt; given her way of sugarcoating everything, almost literally. The two young men blankly stared at each other for moment, then turned their gaze towards a now sobbing Summer.

“But Sum… we’ve never even… how? … Who?” Taiyang mumbled, still attempting to find his voice.

“I’m sorry, Tai. It’s…”

“Mine.”

Taiyang’s shaky vision shifted towards his best friend. The young crow’s eyes could not do the same as he moved to stand by his lover. Only as he took her hand, did he find the resolve to return the favour. And what he saw would likely haunt him for the rest of his life. His upbeat best friend looked as if he’d been stabbed in the heart, his face drifting between rage and despair. Finally, Taiyang just snapped.

“You fucking piece of bandit shit!” Tai roared while charging at his supposed ‘best friend’. “I TRUSTED YOU!!!!!”

Qrow didn’t even move when Tai slugged him in the jaw. It was no more than he deserved, or at least so he thought. The punch sent Qrow halfway across the kitchen, smacking his head against the wall. The sound of him crashing in the wall reverberated throughout the entire first floor. Thank the Gods Yang was a deep sleeper. Qrow hadn’t bothered to engage his aura, so the impact stung him pretty bad. Everything had happened so quickly, Summer barely had time to react. Snapping back into reality, she rushed to her boyfriend’s side.

“What the shit Tai?! Gods Qrow, are you okay?” Summer said to him, frantically checking his face for bruises.

“Ah god Sum. SUM! Ease up, I’m fine.” Qrow complained, gently batting her hands away.

All the while Summer was tending to a reluctant Qrow, Taiyang fell silent once more. In the singular moment he saw them together, Tai began to understand why Summer never went all the way with him. Reaching into every memory he had with her, it was clear her heart had always belonged to someone else. He supposed the reason why it hurt so earnestly was because he never anticipated it to be his best friend. Now there was just one question left to ask.

“So… how long have you guys been… Well… Y’know.” Tai asked, defeated but curious nonetheless.

“Since Third Year.”

Slipping into an adjacent chair, Tai buried his head into his arms. This was too much. It was like losing Raven all over again. His mind raced, his heart beating out of his chest. He was angry, but couldn’t decide what over. That they’d lied? Kept this from him and Raven for YEARS. Or how they likely would’ve kept it if Summer hadn’t gotten pregnant. Watching him stew over their relationship was heartbreaking. Summer hadn’t stopped weeping the whole time; Qrow hadn’t looked his best friend in the face since the whole ordeal began.

Summer walked over to give a much needed hug, but Tai refused, not wanting to be anywhere near them. With a single word, he ushered his teammates away.

“Leave.”

Summer wanted to object but before she could, Qrow laid his hand on her shoulder.

“C’mon Sum, we should go.” He whispered into her ear “I think he needs to be alone for awhile…”

She hated it when Qrow made a point, but it was true. As much as she wanted comfort him, it wouldn’t do their strained friendship any favours. The pair made their way out the front door, gently shutting it behind them. Leaving Tai to his thoughts and anguish.

The couple walked to their favourite spot in the forest; an old and massive Weeping Willow they’d found after graduation. They often napped in it together, letting the wind set their troubles at ease. Boy, could they use that now. Summer clung to Qrow’s back as he climbed to their usual branch; her half-dried tears rubbing off on his cape. Being the gentleman he was, Qrow let Summer climb on first, then moved to situate himself between her and the trunk.

He rested his hands delicately over her baby bump, while she nuzzled her head into his chest. Summer wiped away the remainder of her tears and sighed loudly.

“Well… That was shit.”

“Hmph, you said it.”

“What? No witty response.”

“Nope. That was about as bad as I expected it to be. Just my luck, right?”

“Our luck.” She corrected.

They chuckled for a moment. It wasn’t often they joked about his semblance together. But back to the more pressing issue of Tai.

“So now what?” Summer asked tentatively.

“No clue.” He answered “I guess we’ll have to wait and see. I doubt he’ll stay mad at you but he might never talk to me again.”

Summer didn’t know if that comforted her or not. But things were already set in motion. Tai knew now, and she had every intention of keeping her baby, regardless of how he felt about it. As much as she cared for Tai, for Yang; she loved Qrow just as much, perhaps even more. Once again her boyfriend was right.

Only time would tell.

He Seemed Nice

Hello everyone, I’m back! Apologies for the wait! I hope you like it.

CW for Halloween-typical violence. Also this one’s just a touch more... risqué than the last one, so keep that in mind!

--

You met him at a bar at the tail end of August. You were at your usual haunt when you spotted him from across the room. He sat alone in one of the corners, idly sipping a beer and staring at nothing in particular. He’d been there for hours before you paid him any real attention; lonesome men were a dime a dozen in seedy bars like this, and besides, if you took your eye off of your game of pool for even a minute, you know your buddy would use the opportunity to cheat. So you didn’t notice him until well into the night, when you heard the smack of his bottle against the table and you looked up to check the noise.

Your eyes met then. Your breath hitched just slightly when you noticed the nasty scar over one of his eyes, whiting out what you assume had been as bright and blue as his other. There was a softness in those eyes, one that was rare in people his age, especially men. Instantly, despite the rugged look of his scars and clothes, you were at ease. You smiled at him. He smiled back.

You quickly finished your game of pool and hung up your cue, telling your friends to keep going without you. Then you sauntered over to the man in the corner.

In the dim lights it had been hard to tell from a distance, but up close you could see that he was quite handsome. His age-- which you guessed was somewhere around forty-- shown in his face, but despite the weather of middle age that was evident in his dark eye bags and the slight puffiness of his cheeks, his features were still chiseled and handsome. With his button nose and his nest of curly brown hair, you would guess that he had been quite a ladykiller in his youth.

You couldn’t help the warmth that rose in your cheeks. You think he noticed it too, if that confident little smirk meant anything. Yeah, still got it.

“Is this seat taken?” you asked as you tugged out the chair beside him.

He shook his head, making a sweeping motion with his empty hand. No, no, feel free.

“Thanks.” You sat down and introduced yourself, reaching out your hand to shake his.

He took your hand-- (the way he shook and squeezed yours made your toes curl)-- but he hesitated to speak. He looked you up and down, as if assessing you, before he finally decided to say anything. Maybe that should have struck you as odd, but any inkling of suspicion you might have had was killed on the spot when you heard his voice.

“Michael.” There was a gravel to it, and though you initially thought it was a smoker’s voice, you dismissed it, since he was about the only one in the bar who didn’t stink of cigarettes. Maybe the growl was just natural-- it suited him after all. Between his beard and the peek of chest hair displayed beneath his oh-so-subtly unbuttoned shirt, he seemed the rugged type. Like the love interest from a romance novel, perhaps.

The two of you exchanged pleasantries for a while, settling in, ordering drinks, laughing. You completely forgot about the pool game and your buddies until they announced their departure.

“Get home safe!” You remember one of them calling as the group shuffled out the door. You had found yourself laughing at that at the time-- your house was basically next door, how did they expect you to get into trouble?

After you waved them off you returned to your new friend, continuing your interrupted train of thought. You were in the middle of talking about something trivial, some odd little anecdote about your job, when it came to your attention just how little he had spoken. Other than the occasional bit of commentary or affirmation, he hadn’t said more than a handful of words. He certainly hadn’t contributed as much as you had.

You apologized for dominating the conversation and he shook his head. “It’s all right. I prefer to listen. Keep going.”

And listen he did. He listened tirelessly, never seeming to grow bored of you or your petty little problems or your uninteresting trivia knowledge. He simply nodded when appropriate and sipped on his bottle of beer.

Closing time arrived before you even knew it. You balked when the bartender announced final rounds and frantically checked the clock. Two A.M.! When had it become two A.M.? Had he really made you lose track of time that badly?

Your new friend sighed, knocked back the last of the beer he’d been working on for the past two hours, and stood. You stood along with him and gathered up your coat. You were about to bid him farewell when he asked if he could walk you home.

You felt your entire face flush, and not from the alcohol. You nodded, afraid that if you tried to speak you might say something embarrassing. He shrugged on his jacket, waved to the bartender and corralled you out the door.

The summer air had broken that night, giving you a welcome reprieve from the unforgiving heat. Soon it would be autumn, and the chilly fall air would sweep away any remnants of the hot and humid hell that Illinois tended to be.

The pair of you walked in silence, the only sound the chuckle he gave you when you peeked over at him. You looked away, and to cover for yourself, you quietly thanked him for his company. In return, he thanked you for yours.

Too soon, your little walk was over and you stood at your door. “So this is it?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you confirmed. “This is home.”

His brows furrowed. “You don’t live here all by yourself, do you? This place looks too big for one person.”

“No, no,” you assured him. You suppose you shouldn’t have given out that sort of personal information to a man who was basically a complete stranger, but you’d been feeding him details about yourself all night, so what was one little cherry on top? “I have a couple of roommates. I’m never by myself, even when I want to be.”

He nodded and he seemed relieved. “That’s good. There’s a lot of messed up people out there these days. It’s not safe to be alone.”

You sighed in agreement. Not wanting to end an awesome night on a bad note, you decided not to dwell on that. Instead, you patted his arm and gave him one last smile before you went inside.

“Good night.” You said.

“Good night.” Michael replied.

As you hung up your coat and kicked off your shoes you thought to yourself, he seemed nice.

--

Luckily for you, that wasn’t your only encounter with your mysterious new friend. Far from it, in fact. It seemed that every time you went back to your usual haunt he was there, sitting in the same corner, drinking the same beer. He always looked so bored whenever you first saw him, but the moment he caught sight of you he would light up. You couldn’t deny that you enjoyed the attention and the warm feelings he put into you.

Weeks passed. October strolled in and brought with it that familiar mischievous chill. Your new friend seemed to grow more excitable as the month passed and Halloween began to show its head. You wished you could share his enthusiasm, but lately you could only feel skittish and scared.

You were being stalked.

Right as the month turned you had begun to notice a man following you everywhere. Outside of your workplace, outside of the grocery store, outside of your home-- no matter where you went, you always seemed to catch a glimpse of the same man. He was probably average height, average weight (though his baggy clothes obscured his body, so it was hard to tell). He always wore the same thing-- a workman’s jumpsuit, which seemed to be blue or green depending on the light, and a pair of heavy black boots.

He also always wore the same deathly white mask, which initially lead you to believe this was simply a premature Halloween prank. He never did any of the things stalkers did in movies-- never called you to leave threatening voicemails or to breathe in your ear, never seemed to dig through your trash cans, never hurt you, never cut your hair in your sleep, never harassed your roommates--so that’s all it had to be, right? A prank? That’s what the police had said when you tried to talk to an officer.

But even with the assurances of the authorities, it took its toll on you. Most nights you were too scared to leave your house, opting to rush straight home after work. Even on the nights you did go out, you were tired and paranoid. You tried to hide it from Michael, but he noticed right away.

“Something’s wrong,” he stated. He didn’t ask you if something was wrong, he simply knew. He’d gotten so good at reading you.

You initially resisted telling him. You knew what kind of man he was, and you didn’t want him threatening some stupid kid over a harmless prank. But the weight of the past few weeks had begun to take its toll on you, and you wanted so desperately for him to comfort you. Before you knew it, you were spilling every detail.

He took a long drink of his beer and he muttered, “It’s like I told you-- there’s a lot of sick people out there.” You nodded solemnly in agreement.

“And you said he always wears the mask and the jumpsuit?”

“Yes.”

He hummed, his brows knit. “In the late seventies, down in Haddonfield-- that’s in Hardin county, deep in Little Egypt-- there was this man who attacked a bunch of teenagers one Halloween night. His name was Michael, like mine is, but they called him the boogeyman.” He waved his hand, dismissing it. “Silly, I know. But the thing is… the entire time he was following these kids around, when he was terrorizing and killing them-- well, he wore a white mask and a worker’s jumpsuit. The mask was stolen from a general store, along with a 13-inch kitchen knife. The ‘suit, however…” He leaned in close, eyes wide. The beginning of a grin tugged at his lips. “Was taken from the first ever man he watched die.”

You couldn’t help but look horrified. Michael seemed almost contented by your shock.

Then he sat back quickly, serious once more. “It wasn’t his first kill, of course-- men like that never wait that long to kill something. No, the bastard stabbed his sister when he was barely out of diapers. Can you imagine?”

You didn’t bother to ask why he knew so much. If you’d done even surface level research you would have learned that half of what he’d said hadn’t even been public knowledge and that there was no way he should have known what he did. But you were enraptured.

“You don’t… think it’s the same guy, do you? I mean, a guy like that had to have been caught!”

“He was caught, but he got out. They let him out.”

“Why!” you shouted. Your face grew red as you noticed half the bar peek over at you.

“Fuck if I know.” He itched his wrist. For the first time, you noticed the presence of a strange rune tattoo there. “For the fun of it, I guess.”

Both of you stewed in silence, lost in your own thoughts. When he noticed you biting your nails into stumps, Michael leaned across the table and put his hand on your shoulder. “I’m sorry. I don’t think it’s actually the same guy. It’s probably just a prank, like the cops said.”

You nodded at him. Still scared, however, you asked him to walk you home.

--

You made it home safe that night. No masked man in sight.

--

You didn’t see him, the masked man, at all after that night. Not at work, at your window, at the store. You had hoped that maybe he’d seen Michael walk you home and had been scared off. Briefly, the thought of your friend as your protector flickered in your mind and warmed you from the inside out. It was more fodder for that little fire he’d begun to stoke inside of you.

You were just about to launch into another daydreaming session about tall, dark and curly when you heard a knock at your door. It was one of your roommates.

“Hey,” he said, peeking in. “We’re leaving.”

“Where are you going?”

He looked annoyed. “Halloween party? We’ve been talking about it for like two weeks now. Did you forget?”

You shrugged. With the whole stalking thing going on, paranoia had kept pretty much everything else out of your brain. “I guess so.”

He asked you if you wanted to tag along but you politely declined. The rest of your roomies were going to be out making their own trouble, and you’d be angry at yourself if you missed out on a rare chance to have a night alone.

“I have my pager, so ring me if you need anything, okay?” With that, he left. You listened to him shut the front door and drive off in his car.

You listened for a moment, just to make sure the house was really empty. You heard no shouting, no slamming doors, no girlish giggling, no television, no nothing. All was quiet on the western front.

Yes! You shouted as you jumped up and danced around your room. What should you do? The possibilities were endless! You could take a nice long bath, and you could sing along to the radio as loud as you wanted without being made fun of. You could cook whatever you wanted without having to share it with three other hungry mouths! You could masturbate and moan until your throat was raw! You could even invite someone special over.

You bit your lip and sighed. You wished you had Michael’s number. You’d love to invite him over and see what he’d do to you while you were all alone and helpless.

(Come to think of it, did he have a number? You never thought to ask for one because you’d never had any trouble finding him before.)

God, rubbing one out really did sound good… No, no, in due time. Right now, the bath was calling.

You stripped and, bathrobe draped over your arm, strutted naked across the hall to the bathroom. (You really could get used to this no-roommates thing.) You drew up the bath, humming as you lazily ran your hands through the warming water.

When it was right, you slid in with a sigh, spreading and draping your legs over the lip of the tub. Any other night there’d be no fewer than two people banging on the door by this point, demanding to be let in for their hair curler or their deodorant or so that they could take a shit. But now you were on your own; not only was there no one banging on the door, there wasn’t a need to shut the door at all! Truly this was the height of luxury.

Your muscles had all relaxed and you were on the cusp of napping when a curious thing happened: the lights went out. It startled the shit out of you, and you sat up suddenly, legs slipping and banging on the tub.

You stood up slowly in the bath, murmured out some complaint about someone forgetting to pay the electric bill. You lit one of the candles in the bathroom, quickly dried yourself and pulled on your robe. Just as you exited the bathroom, you heard the sound of footsteps downstairs.

For a moment your breath caught in your throat, but you quickly realized what was happening: Your roommate had come back to play a little trick on you. Oh, wasn’t he clever, waiting until you were naked and vulnerable and then pulling this shit. He probably thought you hadn’t heard him either, the bastard.

Well, you could play along. Loudly, you walked down the stairs, making bold declarations about how dark the house was and how scared you were. As you made your way into the kitchen and down the stairs into the basement, you loudly declared your intention to flip the breakers back on.

“I hope no one’s down here waiting for me!”

The basement was dark as shit, as basements tended to be. Luckily you had been down there a million times and knew exactly where you kept the emergency lights. You plucked one up from the box beside the dryer. You gave it a small shake to make sure there were batteries inside and flicked it on.

Ugh. The beam was tiny and weak; the batteries must have been going dead. (You reminded yourself to change them later.) Whatever, it was enough to work the breaker with.

Whistling to yourself, your terrified façade quickly abandoned, you walked over to the electrical box. You pulled back the cover and flipped the main breaker.

Nothing.

Okay.

You flicked it back and forth a few times. No response.

Okay.

You tried a few of the other switches, but nothing changed.

Weird. Okay. Maybe someone really did forget to pay the bill. But companies don’t come out and shut the lights off this late, right? It was way past business hours.

With the flashlight still clutched in your hand, you ascended the stairs. You called your roommate’s name, asked him what the hell he’d done to fuck shit up this badly. In the kitchen, you heard something stir.

You called his name again. His footsteps grew louder.

Again. Louder.

Again, more frantic. Louder, more rhythmic.

“This isn’t funny,” you told him, your voice betraying you. You shined the light up the stairs you now found yourself stuck to.

He took a few more steps, cautious, before he entered the beam of light. The weak light made his white face glow unholy.

He peered down at you with black, empty eyes.

You couldn’t scream.

Not thinking, you chucked the flashlight at him before flying down the stairs. You heard a dull, connecting thump but you didn’t stop to admire your work. Escape, hide.

You ran to the furthest corner of the basement, narrowly avoiding knocking over baskets and stepping on discarded scraps of junk. You found the discarded pile of sports and gym equipment that had been pushed into a corner and, to the best of your ability, weaved into it. You flattened yourself against the wall, lowering yourself just slightly. You cupped your hands over your mouth to muffle your breathing, for surely that was the only way he could find you. If you couldn’t see him, how could he possibly see you?

He found you in no time at all, having followed the sound of your feet on the hard concrete floor. You listened to him breathe, low and slow as he circled around your general area. He knew you were there, he simply couldn’t pinpoint you. So he made a few idle laps around the edge of the area, then simply stopped, waited. He held his breath, listened. You held yours.

There was a pause in your game. He all but had you. One wrong move and you were in checkmate. The right move, however, and you could survive long enough to come back. Your brain raced a hundred miles an hour as you considered every possible course of action.

You exhaled, no longer able to hold it in. You whimpered when you realized what you had done. He approached.

When he was, you assumed, within arm’s reach, you jumped up suddenly and pushed the equipment in front of you onto him. Skis, bicycles, and all sorts of other knick-knacks clattered to the ground, making him stumble back. You took off in a run.

Up the stairs, onto the main floor. You should have run out the door and you should have gotten help. But you wanted to find out who this fucker was and you wanted to make him pay for tormenting you.

So rather than be sensible, you stayed in the kitchen, grabbed the biggest knife you had in the drawer and lit as many candles as you could before he returned. You managed to light one per stair he climbed, which was rather impressive, if you did say so yourself.

Quickly, he made himself known. Survive.

You pointed the knife at him, gripping it with both hands and keeping it as steady as you could manage. He spotted the knife and stopped, frozen on the spot.

“Don’t come any closer, you son of a bitch! I’ll kill you! I mean it!”

You thought you did, anyway. Whether or not you had the guts to actually do it, you’d never know.

He raised his own knife, looked it over. In the dull candle light it looked old, sad, poorly maintained. Your confidence foolishly flared-- if this was a knife fight, you had brought the sword and he had brought the butter knife.

He threw the butter knife at you.

You hadn’t been expecting that. You gasped and just barely avoided being hit. Your feet, still a touch wet, slid on the kitchen tile and you crashed to the floor, your shoulder knocking the wind from you. You watched as he plucked up the sword and the butter knife.

He loomed over you, head slightly cocked. Angry, you spit up at him. As a reward, you got a boot to the stomach. You felt the impact on your guts, hot and crushing, but also… oddly nice. For a brief moment, you found yourself wanting more. Proving himself quite the sadist, the man denied you.

Instead he brought your sword down, thrusting it into your shoulder. You screamed as it tore through your muscle, severing the tissue there. Blood rose up, almost sleepily, from your wound, hugging the knife before trickling down your skin.

He grabbed you by the hair then, pulling you to your feet. He had ripped out a good chunk of your hair in the process, but the pain was so minute in comparison, you would have hardly noticed.

He raised the butter knife, his hand rigid and ready to stuff this dull-looking thing into some other fleshy part of your anatomy. A sharp knife was safer than a dull knife-- of all the things your mother had rambled to you in your youth this was one of the few things you remembered-- so if the sword had hurt and torn that much, what would the butter knife do?

You refused to find out. With a strength you didn’t know you possessed (and with the aid of good old adrenaline), you yanked the knife out of yourself and thrust it at him, slicing his hand. He seemed unfazed, but released your hair anyway. Pressing the fabric of your robe to your wound, you bound up the stairs and into your room.

You slammed the door behind you, locking it. In full panic-mode now, you scoured your room, desperate to find anything you could use as a weapon. Despite your best efforts, you were unable to find anything harder than a hair brush and nothing deadlier than your dirty gym clothes.

You screamed out in frustration, but the sound stuck in your throat when he began to bang on the door. You jumped back from it.

“Go away!” you shouted. “I’ve got my gun, so if you don’t fuck off I’ll re--” The words wouldn’t come out. “I’ll really kill you!”

He didn’t pause, not for a second; the man could smell a bluff a mile away. Bitterly, you wondered if the masked man would like to join you and Michael for a game of poker. What a time you would have had with a couple of stony-faced tricksters like them.

Soon you heard the strain of the door, the splintering of the wood. You dashed to the window and went to throw it open, but it was sealed tight. You cursed yourself for locking it (“Have to keep the weirdos out!”) and you fumbled with it. It stuck-- of course it stuck! You pulled (thump!) and you pushed (thump!) and you begged (tunk!) and pleaded (crack!) and finally it gave, in perfect synchrony with the door.

You had your palms up against the window frame, ready to throw it open and throw yourself out of the second story when he burst into the room, grabbed you by the throat and flung you onto the bed. You opened your mouth to scream, praying that there was someone nearby; he plucked your pillow up and smothered you with it.

You flailed! You wouldn’t lose! You slipped your leg out from under him and you thrust it up, kicking him square in the stomach. He leaned back and tumbled, his head slamming on the wooden beam at the end of your bed with a nasty crack.

Without thinking you pounced on him, grabbing fistfuls of his jumpsuit and shaking him. “You fucker!” you shouted. “You motherfucker! How dare you!”

You dropped him, letting him hit the beam again. Then you grabbed that stupid mask of his by the hair and you tossed it away.

All the anger melted out of you then.

In the dim glow of the moon and streetlights, you could see that he was quite handsome. His age-- which you guessed was somewhere around forty-- shown in his face, but despite the weather of middle age that was evident in his dark eye bags and the slight puffiness of his cheeks, his features were still chiseled and handsome. With his button nose and his nest of curly brown hair, you would guess that he had been quite a ladykiller in his youth.

You couldn’t help the warmth that burned your cheeks. If he noticed it too, he said nothing.

“Michael?”

He blinked at you, but did not respond. His eyes seemed almost glazed over, and he looked right through you.

Suddenly, he sat up and you sat too. The pair of you stared at each other.

“I don’t understand,” you muttered, tears running down your face. “Why are you doing this? I thought you liked me.”

He didn’t answer. He grabbed for the mask that rested on the bed but you pulled it back. A brief flicker of anger passed across his face.

“Say something, stupid! Don’t play dumb with me. Tell me why!”

Nothing. His lips were sealed. You’d get nothing from him, so you’d had to figure it out on your own.

This wasn’t a prank; between the stalking and cutting the lights and, well, stabbing you, that much was obvious. Had you slighted him? You couldn’t have, you’d been nothing but reciprocal to anything one might call an advance. You liked him, and you were certain he knew that.

But maybe he got off on that.

Maybe he liked getting little things like you all worked up before he cornered them and turned them into mincemeat. You’d heard plenty of horror stories about men like that, both in the papers and from your closest woman friends. You’d never thought this sort of thing could happen to you, but maybe you were just dumb enough to fall for it. Maybe you were just dumb enough for him to lure in.

No, no-- there were no “maybes” about it. You had to be as thick as a wall, because despite everything, you couldn’t make yourself stop liking him. Being followed, attacked and nearly killed by him didn’t make him less appealing to you.

On the contrary, you found yourself… interested.

The knife still lay in his hand. Your eyes laser-focused in on it. You’d used it a hundred times to chop vegetables, slice chicken, open the occasional stubborn bit of packaging. But now you found yourself thinking about it being used on you-- chopping you up, slicing you, opening you up as easily as a box or a wrap of cellophane.

Your heart began to race now, even more than it had before.You’d had these sorts of fantasies before-- violent, romantic fantasies-- but now the opportunity to make them reality was presented before you. The part of your brain that clung stubbornly to survival screeched at you, begged for you to run down those stairs and fling yourself at the next person who could protect you. But what did that inane, ape-like part of you know?

It couldn’t understand that you’d fallen for this man hook, line and sinker. It couldn’t understand that he was just the kind of man you’d been waiting for-- kind, respectful, handsome, thoughtful. Overwhelmingly violent. Someone who had left you metaphorically breathless and now, if you were lucky, would leave you literally breathless as well.

You wanted him. You’d wanted him for weeks now, but rather than simply wanting to fuck him, you wanted him to plunge a different tool into you. You wanted him to thrust it into you again and again, filling you with his warmth and bringing you over that edge. La grande mort.

Tears in your eyes and a smile painted on your lips, you held his mask back out to him. He took it, the sight of his face bringing him from his docile stupor. He eyed you. You nodded. He cocked a brow and you laughed.

Do you know what this means?

Of course I do!

He moved to put the mask back on but you stopped him with a hand on his arm. “Can you leave it off?”

His expression darkened and his mouth set into a harder line. Your stomach leapt.

“Please?” You asked, as soft as you could. “Could you do that for me? That’s all I’m asking.”

You wanted those lovely features to be the last thing you saw. You’d let him do whatever he wanted to you, for as long as he wanted to do them, but you needed to see that it was him, not whatever he was with that mask on.

He thought about it for a long moment, but with a long, annoyed sigh, he stood and rested his face on your desk. You thanked him but he didn’t acknowledge it.

He returned to your side and pushed you down onto your pillow. With no finesse, he ripped open your robe, exposing you to him and to the chilly air of your room. You shuddered; something in his face twitched.

His eyes trailed down your body, perhaps making a mental record of your scars and your freckles and the other marks life has bestowed, perhaps planning the most efficient places for his knife. Perhaps, you hoped, he was admiring, enjoying, lusting for you as you had for him. Perhaps, though you knew it was nothing but a fantasy, he had begun to think of you so highly that he would drop this whole thing and simply take you. As much as you liked the idea of his knife inside you, you couldn’t deny you would have accepted the alternative.

The feeling of the blade in your gut quickly cut through that dream.

(Along with cutting through your small intestine.)

You choked, your hands flying up to tangle in his jumpsuit. He retracted the knife.

You lay there, trembling, your body wracked with pain. The open wound on your gut bled with fervor. Try as it might, your body could not scab up the gash fast enough, and so you bled freely. If you had worked up the courage to stare at your own wound, you might have seen the peek of pink-grey that emerged from the wound as you shuddered. Your insides, like your hidden fantasies, were eager to come out and meet your man of the night.

He gave you just a few moment’s reprieve before the knife came down again, higher this time, right in your belly. You felt your stomach burst upon impact, felt the caustic acid free itself to rain terror on your body. Your body twitched at that, the burning, though it was nothing compared to the raw pain the knife brought you. The raw, completing pain.

Something bloomed inside of you: gratitude. You were so thankful to him, for him, that you felt like you couldn’t contain it. This man had to have been an angel (perhaps he was the angel Michael), for he had looked upon you-- filthy, lowly, human-- and knew immediately what it was you had needed. Then he had spent his time, his energy, his graces to follow through and make sure you got it. Now you were being given that which you needed most, that which all your friends and family would have shunned you for if they’d even caught a whiff of your desires. He gave it gracefully, freely, and without judgement. If you could will yourself to speak, you might have told him you loved him.

But you couldn’t speak-- at first simply because of the pain, then because he had ruptured your lung with his blade. It was such a clean and methodical attack, a simple turn of his wrist and a thrust down; why, he didn’t even scrape a rib! He had an almost surgical precision. Maybe he was a doctor in his day-to-day. You found yourself picturing him in an operating room, and you envied all the people who got to have him inside of them and live.

He made one-two-three-four! more punctures to your lungs, each one making it harder to breathe, until retaining air was impossible. You, both unsure of what to do and knowing you needed contact, clawed at his jumpsuit. He leaned in over you and your arms found his neck; you clung, gurgled, wept and you smiled. Perhaps it was simply the blur of tears in your eyes, but you swore he smiled back.

He let you pull his face down to your throat, where he pressed his nose to your skin and took in the scent of you. Oh, how embarrassing. You weren’t exactly filthy but you wished you’d gotten to finish your bath first. You wanted to smell of soap and candles for him, not of the day’s grime and sweat. Still, if he was bothered, he made no comment. He simply took in long lungfuls of you.

The two of you stayed intertwined like that for, what was to you, an eternity. He stayed close long after you’d given up trying to breathe, long after you’d felt the wetness of your own blood soaking your sheets; long after you’d stopped seeing colors.

You choked out once more, your death rattle. As a final hurrah, one last gift, he sunk his teeth into your neck. Deeper, deeper, harder-- animalistic. You could feel nothing but the pressure and you loved it. You’d wished he’d done it sooner, so that you might have been able to relish in that feeling of being marked.

He stopped just shy of breaking your skin; then, all at once, he left you. He hovered over you for just a moment and then he left your side. Your vision, which was milky now, followed him as he walked to the desk and retrieved the mask. He slipped it on, his second skin. Then he was gone.

He did not give you a last look. He did not, and would not, linger on you. He shut the door; in the distance, you heard the quiet descent of his footsteps.

Your eyes remained trained on the door.

Maroon, Brick, Bronze, Sky, Teal, Violet, Lilac, Blush, Cotton candy, Coconut, and Black for Lace, Wrelia, Rhosill and Aselif

Oooh lot’s of good questions for lot’s of good kids! And by good, I mean every single one of these idiots is morally grey at best. You get a read more because it’s gonna be at least a little long. Have fun~

Maroon - What are you most passionate about?

Lace - They think for a moment, then laugh. “Well, there’s a lot of things I could say, but I’ll keep it appropriate and say the people I care about. Strair, Cue, Kvold, Ive, and others, I’d really do anything for them, and anything to keep them safe.”

Wrelia - “Oh! Oh! Yeah! My research! I put a lot of time into the study of magic, specifically necromancy. I’m mostly self taught, aside from the tips I’ve gotten from Odollumn and Trahearne, and I’m always working to learn more and expand my capabilities!”

Rhosill - “I’m not. Sorry.”

Aselif - “I’m most passionate about my poisons. It’s work I chose for myself, and that I enjoy. It helps with my job, and lets me explore new things. It’s really very lovely. Cayde is the other thing I’m passionate about. I love him, truly and surprisingly. I didn’t think I could, but I do.”

Brick - What are some things you dislike?

Lace - “People who treat public spaces like they’re private, idiots who think they can get the drop on me, people who try to use Cue to get to me. People who don’t respect boundaries. Tenor. Fire. Gods. Not having control. I can go on longer if you want...”

Wrelia - “The Elder Dragons have all been pretty mean. And I don’t really like being alone. And coffee makes me very shaky and doesn’t taste great, though chocolate covered coffee beans are pretty good. I don’t like that Mom has been trying to take on all this burden by herself, when she has so many people around her that want to help. I don’t like that things keep hurting my loved ones. I don’t like that I could lose everyone at any given moment, and that I wouldn’t be able to save them or bring them back. I really don’t like wyld hunts. I hate that we can’t stop, or the world will end. I don’t like this question.”

Rhosill - “Myself, the inquest, bandits, and my old job as an assassin, to name a few things.”

Aselif - “Let’s see, I’m not very fond of Lusus. I don’t particularly like any of the people I meet with for the court, they’re all fairly horrible, especially Tenor. I dislike many of the things the court makes me do. There’s so much more, too, but it’s a long list, and it would only bore both of us.”

Bronze - What is your favorite way to warm up when it’s cold?

Lace - “Coffee, and cuddling with Cue under a blanket if I can. That’s the first thing I did when I got back from the Shiverpeaks after finally finishing my wyld hunt. Second favorite is sharing a bed with someone exciting.”

Wrelia - “Blanket cape and baking. Embrant and I like to joke that we’re royalty, and the oven heats the whole kitchen up pretty well. Plus, we get food after we’re all warmed up!”

Rhosill - “I don’t usually need to, but if I do, then a campfire, and some hot cider.”

Aselif - “Cuddling up with Cayde is always nice. Even when I’m not cold.”

Sky - What is your favorite time of the day?

Lace - “Very late at night to very early in the morning. The wee hours, when everything is quiet, and it’s just you, the stars, and maybe some stray crickets. It’s so peaceful during that time.”

Wrelia - “Late morning! Making brunch with my wife when we both have a day off! And we laugh and joke and each food that should probably count as desert, but brunch has no rules~”

Rhosill - “It’s changed a lot over the years. Right now, it’s lunchtime.” He smiles a little. “You haven’t seen excited until you’ve seen a bunch of recruits being let out from their morning drills to go eat and hang out.”

Aselif - “Dawn, the moments before the sun rises. Responsibilities don’t exist during that brief period of time, and the sky just look beautiful. I wish I had more opportunities to be up then.”

Teal - What makes you feel most at peace?

Lace - “Quiet and solitude, or having complete and total control of a situation. Both together is especially nice.”

Wrelia - “Spending time with my friends! They’re all great people, and we all make each other feel loved and wanted and welcome! It’s a nice feeling, and it helps me forget some of the big problems I’m facing.”

Rhosill - He mimes holding his rifle. “Gun in hand, and a bandit or inquest bastard in my sights.”

Aselif - “When Cayde comes to my office to just sit with me while I work. He makes the work go quicker, and makes it easier to think. And it is also simply nice to hold him close while he gets a break.”

Violet - What is your ideal date?

Lace - “Cue and I built my house together, and we fucked in every room as we built them. I’d say that was pretty ideal!”

Wrelia - “Whenever Em pulls out the blanket fort again! We usually bake cookies, and sometimes other treat too, and we spend all day curled up together and having a relaxing time!. It’s the best. Embrant’s the best.”

Rhosill - “My... what? I dunno, have I ever been on a date?” He hasn’t, and he wouldn’t know how to go on one, or what he’d want from one.

Aselif - “Any chance I get to spend an entire day with Cayde. I’d love to take him out to see more of the world together with him at some point, but our responsibilities keep getting in the way of that.”

Lilac - How would someone win you over?

Lace - “There’s... well there’s a lot of intricacies to it, so it’s kind of hard to say.” They rub at the back of their head for a moment, thinking. “Well, if you aren’t looking for any serious sort of relationship or friendship, good, kinky sex is a very fast way to my heart. Longer term, respect my boundaries, respect my privacy, respect my triggers... really just show some fucking respect and don’t push for shit I haven’t given you permission to push for.”

Wrelia - “If you have any notes or research on necromancy, that’d be great! I just really like when people talk to me in general, though. I’m pretty easy to win over.”

Rhosill - “Uh, whiskey? I guess? Tvelle punched me, and I let the recruits all try and fail to beat me up, so I guess whiskey or kicking my ass?”

Aselif - “Usually, I’m the one doing the hard work of winning others over.”

Blush - Do you have a crush on anyone? If so, who is it?

Lace - They laugh. “Cue, pretty obviously! That’s why I’m dating him! Strair, too, I suppose, and Maric. I’m sleeping with all of them, though, so it’s not really a thing.”

Wrelia - “Does my wife count? Even though I already married her? Ummm, Sayeh al’ Rajihd was really cool. I only got to meet her like once, but I have a little bit of a crush on her still.”

Rhosill - “I don’t think so, no.”

Aselif - “I think you should have gotten the picture by now. I am taken.”

Cotton candy - Would you say you have a sweet tooth?

Lace - “No, that’s why I drink my coffee black. I don’t hate sweets, but I don’t love them either.”

Wrelia - She looks around a little awkwardly and giggles. “I think it’s pretty obvious that I do. I’d eat pastries for every meal if I could get away with it! Uncle Ruzzier caught me last time I tried though, and I got this whole lecture on the importance of a balanced diet.”

Rhosill - “Don’t really care how things taste at all, if I’m honest. So no, I don’t.”

Aselif - “Yes, I would. I especially love the sweetness of fresh fruit.”

Coconut - What would be your ideal vacation?

Lace - “I’m admittedly not a huge fan of vacations. I’d usually rather be working. But if I were to pick anything, I’d like to follow Cue while he goes to work and just spend the day watching him.”

Wrelia - “One that my mom, Laighe, takes. She can take all of mine for all I care, as long as she uses them and takes a break.”

Rhosill - “Fuck, I don’t need a vacation. I’m basically always on vacation already. Not like I have a job right now or anything.”

Aselif - “I’ve been told Elona is quite beautiful, and has an abundance of new plant and animal life that produce fascinating toxins and poisons. I’d love to take Cayde to Amnoon to explore, and spend some time working with the new materials I find there.”

Black - What is the darkest thing you’ve ever done?

Lace - They grin and quirk an eyebrow. “Are you sure you really want to hear that? I can go into some pretty intricate details about how I torture people, if that’s what you’re looking for. Like how I hung a man by his wrists and whipped him until he blacked out, then I healed his wounds and started the whole process over again. Or how I froze a woman’s lungs in her chest and watched her suffocate. Or the courtier whose legs I cut off one inch at a time after they tried to force Kvold back into the court. That was a good one.”

Wrelia - “I, uhm, I don’t really wanna talk about it... so how about I talk about this lil guy instead.” She holds up a strange looking rat, leaking a black tar-like substance. “I named him Jeremy. He’s awakened. I awakened him! Isn’t he cute? I guess this counts as dark, right? Well, I’m studying him with the hope that I can figure out some sort of way of treating the free awakened when they get sick or injured. It’s pretty cool, but just a side project. Taimi takes precedent right now.”

Rhosill - He shrugs. “Mass murdering a bunch of inquest when I was a sapling, maybe? My work as an assassin, could also count. Or my time with Scarlet. I’ve done a lot of very dark things. I only regret some of it.”

Aselif - “I’ve sold many of my fellow courtiers into worse lives than the ones they already had. And I’ve helped torture lots of people. The one that haunts me most was a knight from my own court, who I sold to one Lady Tenor. I see her around more often than I’d like. I haven’t seen the knight since. I don’t know if that’s better or worse.”

Title: FrostBitten: Cracks in the Ice Author: @wickednerdery Fandom: Marvel Pairing/character: Loki x Reader (& Jotun!OC) Rating: Mature Summary: “The real you.” Notes: This is a series/multi-chapter fic - Masterlist Here. Ulfr is a Frost Giant, more clearly so than Loki, and “played” by Lee Pace. This piece is two sections, one with Ulfr and the other with the reader and Loki. The whole thing in general is dark, this one’s mostly just angst and violence though…For consistency and length it gets a “Read More”.

Ulfr freezes his door, his room, to a thickness that assures privacy from all, save perhaps Loki. He growls irritation seeing Tia’s body still on the bed; he forgot about her. Lacking his usual patience he simply opens a window wide and tosses her out. Her frozen form smashes upon landing...interesting, but there’s no time for experiments or play just now.

Settling into an overstuffed chair Ulfr works to relax, to clear his mind. It proves more difficult than usual as his mind returns over and over to you. Your interest, your sundae, your delight at his ice wolf, your body...he growls a heady mix of jealousy and arousal in the memory of Loki forcing you to suck him off.

Fucking Loki.

He shakes it away; he’s gotten so far, he gets closer every day, he can’t let one little Midgardian derail everything. He can’t let Loki’s childish games get to him. Deep breath in, slow exhale...

At his best he’s still little more than intermediate in his magic skills beyond the ice-based that come naturally to his people. It takes focus, a clear mind, as eyes fade shut - deep breaths in, slow exhales - and the second layers of magic flow across the room. These hide not just body, but mind and heart.

The world refracts, mirrors, around him and he becomes his true self. As fascinating as the dimension is, Ulfr never feels fully comfortable in it - needing the other to pull him in and out, it’s far too close to the containment rooms of SHIELD for his comfort. More so when the other isn’t there to greet him, like now.

He would say they’re partners, even if only in this task, but that’s still no where near accurate. They neither like nor trust one another and do not share the same goal in the end. Another world, another opportunity, they could just as easily be enemies in battle.

“Have difficultly?” His deep voice announces the sorcerer’s existence on this plane.

Ulfr’s lips curl slightly as he looks for the man. “At least I’m here in full.”

Strange appears before him, cloak billowing in attempts to intimidate. “I’m here.”

“And I’m ready.”

The moment you’re left alone you scramble to redress and return to your own quarters. With chair firmly under doorknob you run to the bathroom to vomit. You brush teeth, even attempt to clean out the taste of him with soap, before throwing up once more then showering.

It’s no use. You can still taste, feel, Loki all the way down your throat. You can sense him in the pit of your stomach and swimming through your veins. It’s like he’s entered your core. It isn’t even the act this time - distasteful as it was - it’s the feeling of being a pawn. That Loki might not even be attracted to you, but thinks Ulfr is and that alone is enough to degrade you.

You look in the mirror, examine sallow and bruised skin, thinning face, and force a deep breath through raw throat. He will not break you. Not for his pleasure, not for another’s pain. Not for anything. You have to be stronger, learn more. Find a weakness, a way to his humanity. If Thor had it, if Ulfr does, so does Loki...no matter how deep it’s buried under sadistic acts and frosty blue eyes.

As the hours pass you force yourself to think on your interactions with the god. Each one. In detail. His peacocking destruction of the city...the sadistic, preening, delight of your first night...the angry disregard afterwards...the playing gentleness of the bath...the events of this morning. Every one a display, every one a tableau of... Your mind falls to the terrible, haunting, ice in Loki’s gaze and the way it counters the bloody red warmth of Ulfr’s…

“Did you truly believe your pathetic attempts at keeping me out would work?” Loki’s voice breaks your thoughts so that you jump. He gives a malicious chuckle as he stands at the end of the bed, over you, as you sit. “I suppose I could admire it...” he slinks around to the side. “The tenacity of it.”

This time you stay in the center, focus on him, refusing to show on your face the fear given away in pounding heart and shaking body.

“Of course, I could also consider it a great disrespect to your king.” Eyes shine their blue at the veiled threat. “Everything is mine. Your room, your bed, you. It’s all mine and I’ll not be denied it.” He flashes an image of himself in full armor, horned helmet, scepter in hand.

You lean back, but do not actually move away. “I know, my king.” You play in.

The vision fades; Loki returns to more regal dressings, pleasantness on his face. “You’re learning.”

“Of course, your majesty.” You smile softly. “Though, I confess, I have much to learn still.”

“Naturally.”

“May I ask a question, my king?”

“Very well.” He’s too cocky to be wary.

“...Why are you doing this?” Loki tilts his head in puzzlement, but lips show amusement; you press on to clarify. “Not taking over Earth, not ruling, I...I get that, I suppose. I mean...this.”

“What?”

“This.” You stress the word, continue. “You’re not a fool, you understand our cultures and you know you’re hurting people. I can see you enjoying it. But...why?”

“I am a god.” Loki insists.

“Gods aren’t sadistic.”

He chuckles. “Clearly you haven’t done enough research.”

“We haven’t offended you.”

His amusement is fading. “You’re getting close to it.”

“Please, your majesty, I merely want to understand.” You get up on knees. “I could supplicate myself and I think...I think you’d treat me worse. Certainly not better.”

He says nothing, only examines you.

“I would think you’d have an easier time getting loyal, truly loyal, followers with kindness. But you just...” The blue in his eyes seems to fade briefly, you swear they go green. “Hurt. Degrade. Why?” You move closer to him cautiously. “I know there’s a good king, a good man, in you Loki...”

Eyes go greener still as the god looks off somewhere you can’t reach, fathom, his face losing all fierceness, all confidence. His face, stature, change...he looks like a lost boy, unsure where he is, what he should do. It’s more haunting a look than he nastiest one could ever be.

“It’s okay...” you whisper, shift closer still. You’re getting through; whatever his guards, his walls, you can see the cracks in the small quiver of his lower lip.

What you can’t see is what’s beyond those cracks. Those memories buried in the darkest parts of him. That pain - searing, cracking, throbbing, burning - dug so far into him it’s settled into his heart. The abyss and those in it churning him through humiliations in the name of preparing him for this. Loki can feel it all, the seeming eons of it, and all at once as he shudders. The Tesseract’s power muffles his scream as tears slip out of green eyes.

You reach out. “I just...want to know you, Loki...” Hand reaches up, brushes a soft, cool, cheek. “The real you.”

In a snap it’s gone. All of it. His eyes flash blue rage and your head crashes against the wall on the other side of the bed. Vision blurs, spins into stars. You kick out under him, claw at hands squeezing your throat. This isn’t an act; he truly rages, hates, for whatever you’ve done to soften him in that moment.

His lips curl over teeth. “You presume to know me?! A god?! You stupid, fucking, mortal whore!!” He shakes you like a rag-doll, head bouncing off the wall, the mattress. He straightens up, lifts you in the process. “Tell me why I shouldn’t end your miserable existence right now.”

You only wheeze.

“Where are your pretty words now?” He sneers, drops you back onto the bed. “Good, stay silent, I’ve no use for your mouth beyond its pleasures. Speak out of turn again and I’ll cut your tongue from between those lovely, cock-sucking, lips of yours!”

Even after he storms out, door locking behind, you don’t move. You let tears stream down your face, wheeze breaths, but don’t dare move. You found a raw spot within Loki’s perfect exterior, the humanity behind the exhibit, and rattled him out of his illusions...but you know deep down that you’ve not yet paid the full price for it.

Sooo...this is the “work” Ulfr had to attend to and, obviously, Loki doesn’t know about it, hahaha! This Dr Strange is from the future and Ulfr’s main source for magical training (outside whatever Loki decides to teach him)...both men may have similar goals, but certainly not the same and that’s all I’m saying on that at the moment, lol! (And forgive any magic-logic lapses, I’m working under the “for the story!” principle, lol!)

(Gif made by me via two gifs I found on Google.)

Tagged: Tagged:  @welcome-to-fangirl-hell @chibiyanai @wadeyouwitch @creedslove @lady-crowned-with-stars @moonfaery @annievvv7  @ladyfluff @holykryptonitekitten @lokilvrr @janebrownnie @lokis-little-kitten @alexakeyloveloki @theangelsfightwithdevils @the-blue-tiefling @lokis-lady-death @dangertoozmanykids101 @prometheasmother @vethrvolnir  @wintertink  @amethyst-dreams-and-candy-canes @drakonwild @starscreamloki @helayes​  @hiddles-rose​  @the-lady-witchitery …I think I got everyone, if you want on or off the list, just lemme know!!

Heathers UK Cast Recording Review (From A Retired Veronica Sawyer’s Perspective)

If you are new to my blog, hi! I’m Haleigh and I am an actress local to Dallas/Ft. Worth, Texas. I had the utmost pleasure of playing Veronica Sawyer last summer in Plano, Texas. Veronica was an absolute dream role of mine. I feel so honored every day that I was chosen to tell that story. The show holds an extra special place in my heart because a little bit after the show closed, I started to date the wonderfully talented man who played my JD. So, Heathers holds a dear place in both of our hearts. We have spent a few evenings listening to the UK Cast Recording and gathering our thoughts on it.

I need to preface a few things. 1. I am a huge Carrie Hope Fletcher fan. So I am absolutely biased. Not sorry. 2. As a whole, I think my experience as Veronica would have been immensely easier if this album had been out for me to study and work with. The only Veronica when my show went up was the lovely Barrett Wilbert Weed. Anyone who has ever had the pleasure of playing this iconic role knows that it is insanely difficult to live up to such talent as hers. Carrie made the role seem a bit more human and her vocals, while still insanely difficult, were much more achievable. 3. I go on a few tangents about my experience as Veronica. We just celebrated the year anniversary since the first rehearsal. Your girl got a bit nostalgic. 4. Thank you for coming to my little corner of the internet. Let’s listen to the Heathers UK Album!

⬇ Keep Reading ⬇

Beautiful: I can hear the accents. I can hear them holy moly. It’s okay, Haleigh. Phew. I will say I could hear a distinct difference in the orchestration? It doesn’t feel quite so cutthroat and edgy as the Off-Broadway album. It really does sound more musical theatre. Which I truly enjoy. I like that it sounds like a completely different show. I’m not one for a carbon copy of something else. 

Candy Store: Okay, Jodie Steele is everything I never knew I needed?? This rendition is wonderful.

Fight For Me: Woah, this key change is everything! This song was really daunting to learn. And I seriously adore the changes in this album. This song was my favorite to sing. I hope they release the updated score for us on other sides of the globe to use for our books!

Freeze Your Brain: So I can hear Jamie Muscato’s every single syllable. Which is great for the pronunciation of his American accent. However, it was a bit jolting the first time through the cast album. Now that I’ve gone through a few times, I don’t notice it quite as much. Perhaps it’s just the recording and not him live. Such a gorgeoussss voice, nevertheless. 

Big Fun: The lyric changes were jolting at first, as well. Still takes a lot of time to get used to. Also, they took out the verse about “let’s use their showers. That sounds like big fun”. Don’t expect to be able to sing along with this one first time around. I do love that Heather Macnamara gets the line about “First it’s salt and then lime and thennnn shot!” like it was in the script when I did the show! 

Dead Girl Walking: Such a win, guys. The amount of fever dreams I had about this song is damn near embarrassing. I will say it again, if this album had been out when I did this role, it wouldn’t have been nearly as terrifying. Carrie’s belts were absolutely gorgeous!

Me Inside Of Me: Ugh, my least favorite song in the show. I will say, Jodie Steele, sounds absolutely stunning, though. Even more so than Candy Store. I can hear her bitchiness just in the audio. I wonder how chilling her performance was in person!

You’re Welcome: Unpopular opinion time; I dislike everything about this song. I’ve listened to it once and skip it every time I listen through the album. While Blue from the Off-Broadway album (if done wrong) can be just as predatory as this song, I’ve mainly seen it done silly and more comedic. You're Welcome is just plain scary, in my humble opinion. The vocals are undeniably stunning. Kurt and Ram are immensely talented. However, I just don’t feel like this was a good replacement for Blue. I feel this song is just scary and triggering. Especially for someone who has been in Veronica’s shoes before. While I respect that the writers prefer this song to Blue, I strongly stand behind my opinion on this song. 

Never Shut Up Again: I feel like this song is along the same lines as Dead Gay Son. It has a beautiful upbeat vibe to it. I’ve heard a lot of people say that it doesn’t sound like it belongs or flows. I completely disagree. Heather Duke deserved a solo. And T-Shan Williams absolutely slays this song. I also appreciate that they did a little nod to the Blue Reprise in here. This song will be a fan favorite if it gets released with the rights worldwide. 

Our Love Is God: Ah one of my most favorite songs to perform when I did this show. This song lives up to the outrageously high expectations I had for it. Brought massive tears to my eyes as I listened and replayed performing this scene in my head. I can only imagine how wonderful the performances were in person. 

Dead Gay Son: A song that is usually a skip for me. The vocals were lovely but this song is just better when you see the show live, in my opinion. 

Seventeen: Another song that had really high expectations. The vocals, the tone, the everything was truly wonderful. You could hear the love and the urgency behind both Carrie and Jamie’s voices. I was pleased when this song was released early. It was a great little taste to what a joy this cast album would be. 

Shine A Light: Less church-y than the Off-Broadway and more rock, I will say. Love Rebecca Lock’s choices with Fleming. She sounds so unapologetically her and it is truly a hilarious experience to listen to. (Funny story, James actually tripped and fell off a platform during our production of Heathers during this song. Just thought I’d share that with the world.)

Lifeboat: Sophie Issacs sure knows how to pull at your heartstrings with this one. It feels like there was a key change in this song too, I could be wrong, though. It also feels faster? I will say while her vocals are lovely since it does feel faster, the song doesn’t pack as much of a punch as it could have. 

Shine A Light Reprise: T’Shan is seriously terrifying. I loved the lyric and note changes for this one. Like man, that belt is too die for. 

I Say No: Added to my book and have already started to rehearse this so I can sing it at my first given opportunity. The lyrics to this song are really awesome. In the Off-Broadway show, I always was peeved that the musical took out my favorite quote from the movie “You know what I want? Cool guys like you out of my life.” And they included a bit of that in this song. As someone who is a huge fan of this movie, I was stoked when that was added in. From my understanding, this song happens after JD shoots the TV right after Veronica breaks up with him. (Correct me if my assumption is wrong!) James and I had discussed in the past how a song would have been awesome there. So, if that is where this song is, it just makes me that much happier. 

Kindergarten Boyfriend: Woah. I mean woahhhh. Those vocals are flawless. This is the only scene in the show where Veronica gets more than 30 seconds to be off stage. I always spent it listening to our Martha that evening sing her heart out. It is what got me into the mindset to cry during Meant To Be Yours. This rendition is so lovely and truly makes me cry every time I’ve listened to the album all the way through.

Yo Girl: So eerie and so haunting. I do prefer the Off-Broadway for this one. It felt more gut-wrenching. The lyrics changes, though, hit you right where it hurts. “what’s that brimstoney smell?” Ouch, guys. 

Meant To Be Yours: The differences are subtle between this and the Off-Broadway. I love Jamie’s performance. He truly sounds like he has lost his damn mind. And Ryan McCartan's JD sometime’s was really cartoony. (Still, absolutely adore him!!) My favorite performance from Jamie from this entire album. One character choice I really liked was the whisper of “No thanks”. So chilling. Okay, I’m crying while I’m listening to this. I gotta move to the next song. 

Dead Girl Walking Reprise: Carrie’s version is not quite as belt-y as Barrett’s. I always had to sing this after balling my eyes out and had to sniffle and belt this. I love that there is just as much power behind this version but not all the way sang up to the gods. It’s a much more achievable rendition for the average singer in a community theatre where this will get done more often. Again, Jamie for real sounds manic and I love every second of it. And I also looove that there’s an added “Don’t talk about my mom” and a “stop” lines in there. Every night when James and I sang this, he shot me a look like those were his thoughts, but I can’t say anything because she is singing and it’s not in the script. It’s really lovely to have that added bonus in here. 

I Am Damaged: These are the only lyrics changes I don’t agree with. I like how it was originally portrayed that JD may or may not be changing in this song. But either way, wow my heart hurts. That was so beautiful. Every night when I played Veronica, my interpretation of this song was probably quite different than most. I’d love to share that to someone other than James and a few members of the cast. When Veronica says “Say hi to God”, I always portrayed it as Veronica, despite all of the harm JD caused, truly believed he would still go to heaven. And it always got me to the depths of my core. 

Seventeen Reprise: The vocals and talent of this cast, my god. Just as beautiful as the Off-Broadway. Ugh, this is making me cry my eyes out, guys. 

There you have it guys. What did you think of this cast recording? If you haven’t listened to the album yet, you really should! Listen here. 

To Whom it May Concern: Chapter Five

Running from Certain Death

Entry: November 13th, 2017

I hate that she has become this all capable being of my nightmares. Like a mean girl at highschool who can make the whole building her army at the flip of a coin. It doesn’t matter who is right and who is wrong. Loyalty doesn’t always mean good. But she was an awkward person, and I doubted any mean girl could have the power to change anyone's minds in mass like she did.

   It hurts to know that those you have come to trust can be a liability; that they are dependable as long as it doesn’t go against her grains. It’s been a year since it’s happened and still I don’t know why or how. Maybe it’s the not knowing that makes me think of her as all persuasive. I don’t know how she did it or why they all left me behind.

    Maybe it’s the not knowing that feeds the paranoia of it happening again. I knew she was drifting, I knew she was unhappy, but I could have never seen it all coming. It was series of believing that it couldn’t get any worse only for someone to punch me in the gut around the next corner.

    I’ve met the person that comes out when I’m on the cold concrete, and being stupid enough to believe that it can’t get worse. The girl that lived through it all; never saw the end of it. I shut it out and locked Jay alongside it. I got rid of it all to be able to breathe again. I lost it all, Jay included. It was as if I were orbiting alone, in the darkness; seeing them all together and happy, but never apart of it all. I’ve had my fair share of wanting to never be here, or wishing to not be alive, but they were always these abstract feelings. They were desires with no words to them.

    It was then that I actually felt the first want to die; not in a ‘no longer exist’ way, but in a ‘I want to feel the pain fade away from my body, and never have to look at any of their faces again’ way.

    Despite how angry I was with them, knowing that dying might very well be the only way for them to feel any remorse for blaming me. I was still more scared of the idea of wanting to prove a point with my blood than than the idea of them leaving me again. I was determined to prove them all wrong, but cowardice stopped me, and cowardice saved my life. In that long year, I learned to live without them all, and I made the biggest gap between me and all of them that I could manage, so the if she were to ever come back, none of them could hurt me. She could take them, there was no changing that, but at least this time I won’t need them. She did this to Jay but she could never touch me.

    Sometimes I hate myself for still caring about how little they value us. It’s old news, but still an ulcer. Sometimes I try to save myself from it.

    When it seems like I have nowhere else to turn and the only way to escape the walls that are both closing in so fast I can’t breathe, and the walls that are receding so fast that I could never catch up, it seems like the only option is to just punch your own ticket, and get the hell out of here.

    It would be the only way for them to regret what they did; and it would be the only way for closure. They are all at fault and then they would finally have to wear the weight of it.

    But I survived it the first time. Not a lot of me survived, but I'm here. Somehow. Now all that’s left is the fear of her coming back for round two, and I know that I will not last. I’ve come to terms with the weakness of my own mind.

    I’ve learned that wanting to disappear from the hands of your ‘loved’ ones is an addictive emotion that feeds the destructive fire bleeding into my actions as I grow to always be angry with their failure to see right from wrong. I blame them the way they blamed me, but there is one simple solution to satisfy the want to end it all. It ties over the feeling I get whenever I look over a railing for a little too long or when I take three pills where I only needed one.

    I can just disappear. I can drive off into the sunset and into the unknown because what I’ve known hasn’t been all that great. If this place that I am at is slowly killing me, then it’s only sensible to leave, kill the person I once was, and become another. I wanted to stand up and refuse to be someone I wasn't anymore. I wanted so badly to become someone she never met so I did. I wanted to become someone that wasn’t hurt by them, but I still was, and I never went through with it. I never demanded to be seen as someone else. I never had the funds before the feeling grew more violent and demanded more than a new persona.

November 13th, 2017

I’m too comfortable with how things are now, it makes me feel restless. I’m worried for the future and how many times I’ll have to compromise where most shouldn’t. I’m worried with how predictable I’ve become, and how I know my limit will be passed again.

I’ve learned to let go of T***. I was holding on for what was familiar rather than love. I’ve learned to be happy for him and the fact that his life is falling into place faster than anyone expected. But I worry for the possibility of her coming to the wedding. It’s haunted me enough quiet nights.

She has the ability to turn everyone against me, and even if she’s gone from my life, everyone I’ve ever talked to serves as a bridge to her. They’ll willingly bring her back, and I’ll lose what little footing I’ve gotten back,

I worry for how predictable I’ve become because I know what will become of me if she is given the second chance to do it again. Every foothold I’ve gained lacks the security and strengths of the friendships I once had. I’ve learned where they all stand when they look at me.

T*** will stay true until a better opportunity rolls around; I hope next time he won’t have to push me away to get to it. Even now, every missed meet up and late answers sends tremors through our poorly crafted makeup, made of nothing more than pretending nothing ever happened. He only came back once I learned to be content alone.

F**** will only pretend to be supportive, but will defend her no matter the cost. She digs for feelings, with only the intent to feed the information to her, congratulating her on a job well done. It’s only common sense not to trust F**** to have my well being in mind.

Dads support only goes as far as he can understand, and even then, there are a few things he won’t support regardless. He’s not as protective as I originally pegged him out to be. As long as nobody got physical or foul mouthed, he was willing to support her. Because he understood her side more than mine.

Mother was only fed F****s words, and she was easily the first to turn against me. I was made to appear crazy by the very person who drove me there.

I won’t be able to stand a second round even though it’s close approaching. She shows her face at the wedding, they all approach her with “I miss you’”s and “I haven’t seen you in a while”’s. They all know it’s because of me, and this time they won’t consider my well being. And if she can turn them against me the first time, when I believed that they were mine. I want to say I wont see the second time coming, but that was true for the first, and we all know, it will somehow always be worse.

I can’t outlive a second round. I hate to be dramatic, but I have to prepare.

I’ll be saving money to run off to Biloxi because I can’t kill myself if I’m in my happy place, right? I don’t know for how long. I might hide out there until I’ve become a missing person, or I may just live their until I emotionally level out.

And sure, it seems predictable, but none of them would waste the time to come looking for me anyways.

A note from the future, because sometimes your biggest fears are not as terrible as you think they are. Maybe there is a 'pleasantly surprised' to count on.

She is invited to the wedding. I knew in advance, T*** admitted himself that it had been a mistake, but the damage was done. She knew the date and the place, and had never been one for human decently to know she shouldn't have been welcomed.

The biggest surprise was that she wasn't.

T*** did not uninvite her. He didn't want to seem rude, he thought she would show up anyways, she was there when he got together with his now husband, he did want her there.

So I gave up. I didn't save anything because I was promised that I had nothing to fear, and I was part of the wedding, after all. He wanted me there. Just not badly enough. How could he be rude to her even through her putting him several thousand dollars in debt? How could he be rude to her even after all she's done to what he claims is his best friend?

I stayed home. I resigned my place, I gave up, I was not ready for the 'I miss you's and 'I haven't seen you in awhile’s, but I knew they were coming. I wasn't ready for round two, but I knew it was coming. I thought I knew, but I was wrong twice now.

Dad stayed home, F**** stayed home, E**** mom, all of them. I never gave a second to think that they would, but this time they stood by me. This time I wasn't on my own to be blamed.