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marvel1012 · 2 months

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Sins of the Father - Pt. 3 "Sam"

Synopsis: AU 3rd season episode of The Bear. Carm makes a startling discovery, and must navigate the fallout.

Warnings: cursing, mostly

Word count: 3,170

Author's note: The epic conclusion to our saga! Enjoy!

Part 1 | Part 2

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It took Carm a week to put together a list of halfway houses in the greater Chicago area, and the better part of another week going building to building, looking for Sam. On his third try, he noticed the name “S. Morris” on the directory outside the door. Number 302.

“No time like the present,” he whispered under his breath, and rang the buzzer.

“Whaddya want?” His biological father’s tinny sounding voice coming through the ancient speaker.

“It’s Carmen. I wanna talk.”

Silence. Nothing happened. A breath, two breaths. Then, the sound of the door to the building buzzing. He quickly grabbed the handle and swung it open, stepping into the foyer. The room was illuminated by a single bare bulb hanging from the ceiling, and the dingy tile looked every bit as old as the intercom outside. One whole wall was composed of numbered mailboxes, and looking ahead, through a second door, he saw the stairwell.

Of course he’d be in some shitty walk-up.

Carm started the climb up to the third floor. By the time he reached the top of the third flight of stairs, his heart was pounding. Maybe he’d been skipping out on the gym a little too much lately. Apartment number 302 was the first door on the left from the top of the stairs. He knocked, and the door swung open a moment later. Sam didn’t say anything, just beckoned him inside.

Carmen followed Sam into the shabby studio apartment, passing a tiny kitchenette to their right as they made their way to the combo living and sleeping area. When they got to the end of the short hallway and emerged into the open space, two things struck him simultaneously– the place was mostly empty, practically devoid of furniture and personal items, but the walls were covered with some of the most breathtaking still-life drawings he’d ever seen. He actually gasped as he took them all in. There were a few figures, mostly bare backs and disembodied hand studies, but what really grabbed his attention were the more traditional pieces. Over by the window, shiny fruit spilling out of a bowl onto a table, and there, a vase filled with exquisite flowers, their petals so detailed they seemed like they could pop right off the page.

Sam realized he had stopped in the doorway, so he turned. He followed Carm’s gaze to the walls and nodded, “Oh, yeah. Those. I used to doodle a lot as a kid, but I picked this up while I was away. The prison library actually had a book about drawing fruit and shit like that, if you can believe it. I think it kept me from goin’ crazy,” he smirked and shook his head, “well, crazier.”

Carmen was at a loss for words. All his life, he’d wondered where his talent for art had come from. Growing up, Donna had yelled at him for spending his time in class drawing instead of taking notes. Mikey and Richie had teased him mercilessly about his clothing sketches. Nat had liked to look at his drawings, but the best she could ever manage were stick figures with circles for heads and birds in flight that looked like stretched out M’s. Now a long held, secret hunch had been proven right in the most shocking and unexpected way. He’d always wanted to believe that he’d inherited his artistic gifts from Jerry. Now he knew the talent had come from his father, just not the one he thought.

Carmen realized Sam was watching him, waiting for some kind of response. He pressed two fingers to his lips and nodded, “I draw some, too. Your stuff is good.”

The corner of Sam’s mouth twitched up in a smirk at the complement. He walked over to a cheap black futon pushed into a corner against the far wall. Apparently he had been using an overturned plastic milk crate as an end table and nightstand– he quickly cleared off the top and moved it out into the middle of the room, then he settled onto the futon and indicated that Carm should have a seat on the crate across from him. “Have a seat.”

Carmy did as he was told. The sharp plastic on the bottom of the crate pressed through the fabric of his pants and into his skin as he settled onto it. His nerves were jangling and tight, and he couldn’t help but bounce his right foot rhythmically against the side of the crate. He slid a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, craving a smoke to clear his mind, but before he could get the cig to his mouth, Sam shook his head. “You can’t smoke in here, there are rules.”

Carm sighed and returned the cigarette to the pack, stuck the pack back into his pocket. Now what? “I, ah, did what you said.”

“What’s that?”

“I went to see my mom. I asked her about you.”

Sam’s eyebrows flashed. “Oh, yeah? She give you an earful?”

“Guess you could say that.” He bit his lip, peeling a little bit of chapped skin off with his teeth, not really sure how to proceed. “She, ah, said you guys had a one night stand, and that’s how, well, I mean,” he trailed off, visibly uncomfortable at the implication.

Sam was staring intently, enjoying watching Carm squirm. A cold grin spread across his face. “That’s what she said, huh?” He sucked his teeth, laced his fingers around the back of his head and leaned into the futon, stretching out fully and crossing his ankles in front of him.

“Did you believe her?”

“Huh?”

“Don. Did you believe her story? About me?”

Carmen pursed his lips. He didn’t like the sound of his mom’s nickname coming out of this stranger’s mouth. He decided to let it go, this time. “Maybe some of it? But not really.”

Sam nodded, still smiling. “So you came to me. You wanna know what really happened.”

This jagoff is having the time of his life. What a sick fuck.

Carm shrugged, “Sure.” Who else could I ask?

The older man sniffed and shrugged back. “Alright, here’s the deal. Jerry and I worked together for a while, before he opened the restaurant but right after he, Jimmy, and Lee started the KBL front,” he chuckled, “talk about the three stooges, amiright?”

Carm just stared, nonplussed.

“So, ah, anyways, your mom helped out in the office sometimes, doin’ billin’ and shit, I dunno. I didn’t really care, all I remember is she had cans like you would not believe. And those skirts she would wear, with the panty hose? That little black line up the back of her calf? Jeeezus fuckin’--”

“Hey! I get it. I get it, alright? That’s my mom.”

Sam cleared his throat. “Well, let’s just say she knew what she was doin’. We were together for months before you came along. Jerry made it sooo fuckin’ easy, too. He was always runnin’ from job to job, tryin’ to look legit while he was screwin’ around with those other two assholes, playin’ at bein’ gangsters. Ha! Ain’t that some shit. Fuckin’ Jimmy is Polish.”

Carm rolled his eyes, tried to steer the conversation back to the point. “So my Da– Jerry. He didn’t know?”

“Fuck, no. I mean, he figured some of it out when Don got knocked up. By that point they hadn’t touched each other in so long, he knew she was fuckin’ around on him with somebody. Had ta be.”

“And then what?”

“Yer mom had you. And you came out lookin’ just like me.” That soft, malicious laugh again. “I couldn’t believe it, you had my eyes and everything. Right there in fuckin’ Jerry Berzatto’s face. You were like a blinkin’ neon sign, kid.”

Carmen felt his chest tightening up. He really didn’t want to have a full blown panic attack in front of this douche bag. He took a deep breath, trying to stay calm.

“And?”

Sam unlaced his hands and sat forward on the couch, arms draped over his knees. He was leaning in toward Carmy now, studying him. It felt like being sized up by a man eating lion.

“He couldn’t fuckin’ handle it. He tried to take care of you for a while, and Don told me to get lost. She wanted to fix things, she said. I think we all know how that went.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, Jerry couldn’t cut it. There you were, a tiny reminder of what Donna and I had done. He finally had enough of her bullshit, I guess. And you were just the straw that broke the camel’s back.”

Carm’s brows furrowed. “What are you saying?”

“Kid. Come on. You’re related to me so I know you can’t be that fuckin’ dense. You’re the reason Jerry finally left. He had put up with so much from Don over the years, hand to God the dumb fuck tried, but in the end it wasn’t enough. With a broad like Donna, it never is.”

Oh, shit. It was happening again. Carmen pressed a fist to his sternum and stared at that singular point, trying to focus on his breathing. Not right now, don’t do this now.

“Y-you’re…that’s not…”

“Not true? You think I’m lying? Why would I? Jerry Berzatto was a sleaze bag and a criminal that let another man fuck his wife for months, then he split when he couldn’t deal.” Carm couldn’t see it, but Sam was rubbing his fingers across his top lip, considering his next words carefully.

“When I saw what a shit show that house turned into, after he left, I knew I had to take you away from it. Away from her.”

All at once, the world screeched to a halt. Carm sat there, frozen, burgeoning panic attack stalled out, so still he didn’t even bother to breathe. Finally, he looked up at Sam from under his mop of curls. Their eyes met, and there was that predatory stare again.

“You– what?” Carmen whispered.

“I tried to take you away from all that– that– chaos, that Don created for everybody around her. I know you don’t remember any of that, you were so little, but when Jerry left, shit really hit the fan. And I wasn’t gonna just walk away. No fuckin’ way. You were mine.”

“You– kidnapped me?”

“That’s what they put me away for. Even tacked on an extra 15 years, because I had a gun under the passenger seat of my car. I never fuckin’ touched the thing, forgot it was even there. Shitass detectives doubled my time over that stupid gun. Aggravated kidnapping my lily white ass.”

Carm was still struggling to process the idea that his birth really had caused the destruction of his parents’ marriage, a confirmation of the guilt that had hidden all these years in the darkest recesses of his heart. The news that his biological father had kidnapped him just wouldn’t compute. He didn’t know what to say. He ran his hands through his hair and held his head practically in his lap.

Sam kept talking, trying to fill the loaded, awkward silence. “I slipped into the house one afternoon. Donna was passed out on the couch, she didn’t even realize I was there. You were napping in your crib, so I just picked you up real easy and carried you out to my car,” this time, his smile was kinda sad, “I even had a car seat for you. Me. A fuckin’ car seat.”

“How did I—?”

“Get back home? Jerry.”

Carmy’s head snapped up, his eyes wide with surprise. “My dad?”

The older man’s expression darkened. “Jerry. When Donna woke up and couldn’t find you, she called him. He knew what kind of car I drove, so he reported you missing and gave the cops a description of you, me, and the car. Pulled us over on the I-94.”

“My dad– saved me?”

Sam leaned over and poked Carmen hard in the chest. “Jerry Berzatto is not your father! I am your father, you call me Dad now. You’re mine and we belong together. We always have! You’re not like them, and you know it.”

Carm absentmindedly rubbed the sore spot on his upper chest where Sam’s finger had dug into his skin, barely paying attention to the other man’s proximity. His eyes were fixed on a sketch on the wall, a hand study– he knew it was impossible, but he could almost swear they were Donna’s. Donna’s hands on Sam Morris’s wall.

And still, Sam kept talking. “We should have been together all of those years. You and me, kid, we’re two of a kind, I just know it. But we can be that way now, Carmen. Make up for lost time. You and me, we don’t need anybody else. You don’t need Don, or Natalie, or that little prick Richie that was always hangin’ around your house,” he gently reached out to cup Carm’s cheek, turning his head so they were face to face once more, “let me be your family now, Carmy.”

From somewhere in the dimmest shadows of distant memory, there was a flash of something, some impression that he could barely put his finger on. It was the vague notion of a voice, and the smell of cooking grease, sweat, nicotine. Strong arms holding him tight and the voice was saying, “Carmy Bear”. No, wait, maybe it was “I gotcha, Carmy Bear.”

“Carmy Bear,” he breathed.

“Huh?” Sam looked confused, not entirely sure what he’d heard.

“Carmy Bear.” Carmen slapped Sam’s hand away from his face and jumped to his feet. “My name is Carmen Berzatto. I have a family, and I don’t need anything from you.”

Sam stood now too, looming a full head taller than his son. “You don’t belong in that family and you know that’s the truth. Every time Jerry looked at you, he saw me. Every time Donna looks at you, she sees me. They took care of you, but they don’t love you like I do, Carmen.They never have, and they never wi–”

Carm shoved Sam hard in the chest, knocking him back onto the futon. He sat there, momentarily stunned, as the younger man stood over him, practically shaking with rage. “You think you’re smart because you exploited the weakness in another man’s marriage? You think there’s something special about you because you took advantage of someone who was lonely and sick? You think you’re some kind of fuckin’ hero because you stole a child?”

“Carmen, I-”

“No! You’re nothing to me! Nothing!” He turned away from his father and ran his hands through his hair again, drowning in the waves of emotion breaking over him– anger, sadness, longing, love, hope, and pain.

Sam was saying something, but Carmy was too far away to listen. He was suddenly overcome with scenes from his childhood, flashing before his eyes like one of those old photo slide shows.

He was 8. A brief period where Donna was completely sober. The smell of blueberry pancakes on the kitchen table before they left for Mass. Her smile.

He was 10. Hiding behind some bushes in the backyard after they switched Lee’s ginger ale with mouthwash— Nat’s dark blue eyes shining in the afternoon sun as she kept a hand clapped over her mouth, trying so hard to be quiet and not to giggle.

He was 14. The first time Richie called him “Cousin”.

He was 17. Cooking with Mikey, helping him perfect the spaghetti recipe that they’d use at The Beef. Laughing at his crazy stories, experimenting with flavors, not a care in the world.

He cut Sam off mid-sentence. “I know who I am. And I know where I belong.” He turned to face his father. “I never want to see you again. Stay out of my life, or I’ll make you wish I had never been born.”

“Mission fuckin’ accomplished,” Sam spat.

“Fuck you,” Carm muttered as he marched out of the apartment. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do if Sam pursued him, but thankfully that didn’t happen. He practically ran down the stairs and through the foyer, hitting the push bar with enough force that he stumbled onto the sidewalk. Once he’d recovered his balance, he shoved his hands in his pockets and marched toward the train station, breath misting in the chilly air.

__________________________________________________________

When the doorbell rang, Pete and Natalie gave each other puzzled looks across their dining room table. Nat’s eyebrow raised in a silent question, and Pete shrugged. “I’ll go check.”

He definitely wasn’t expecting to see Carmy when he opened the door. He smiled, clearly thrown. “Oh, hey Carm. Uh, whaa–what’s up?”

Carmen still had his hands jammed into his pockets, and he didn’t return Pete’s smile, only gave him an apologetic shrug. “Hey Pete. Is Nat here?”

“Sure, yeah, she’s in the kitchen feeding Antonia her lunch. Come in.”

As the pair turned the corner into the eat-in kitchen with Pete in the lead, he tried to cover the awkwardness of the unannounced visit by acting excited. “Hey, look who’s here, Nat! Carmen dropped by!”

From her perch in front of her daughter’s high chair, Natalie looked up, swiping a strand of hair out of her face and inadvertently leaving a smear of sweet potato baby food on her forehead. She was so surprised to see her little brother that she didn’t even notice.

“Carm? What’s wrong? Is everything okay at the store?”

Carmen made a simmer down gesture with his hands. “Yeah, everything’s fine, Sugar. I just needed to see ya.”

Well attuned to the usual antics of his wife’s family members, Pete could immediately sense some Berzatto drama incoming. He headed over to grab Antonia. “We’ll just go, and leave you guys to it.”

“No, Pete, if it’s alright, I’d like her to stay. And you, too.”

Pete glanced at Nat, who gave the tiniest of nods. He settled into one of the dining chairs.

Carmen reached down and picked up his niece. Cradling her to his chest, he inhaled deeply. She smelled like Johnson’s baby shampoo and sweet potato puree. As she looked up into his face, he could see so much of Pete in her features, but her earnest expression was all Sugar. He smiled down at her, just taking her in for a second, and then sat down in the nearest chair.

Natalie could tell there was something weighing on him. And it was freaking her out. She saw Carm looking stressed all the time at work, but this was different. Whatever this was, it was really heavy.

She leaned toward him, that same serious look on her face that Antonia had. “Carm. Are you okay?”

Carmen looked from his niece, to his brother-in-law, to his sister, and nodded as if he’d just made up his mind.

“Sug, there’s somethin’ I gotta tell ya.”

Fade to black, credits roll…

#the bear fx #carmy berzatto #the bear fic #the bear au #carmen berzatto #natalie berzatto

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amuseoffyre · 2 years

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Don’t Tell Mama - OFMD SMAU

17-19

“And you’re sure it’s going all right?” The kids had just finished their dad time, running off to play their video games. Mary didn’t like to pry, but she could help squinting at the room beyond Stede’s shoulders. “It’s kind of early to be in the office, isn’t it? And on a Saturday?”

“Is it?” Stede leaned in closer to squint at the phone. “Oh. Right.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Yes, well, we’ve had electricians coming in and getting things wired up, so I wanted to be in to tidy some bits and pieces up so we’re good to go on Monday.” He gave the air an awkward punch. “First official day of work and all that.”

She hesitated, then prodded carefully, “You never said what exactly you were going to be doing.”

“Didn’t I?” He managed to avoid looking at the camera. “I thought I’d mentioned I was going to be doing some work with Nigel and Chauncey. They’re helping me set up an office and things. Getting my business portfolio off the ground and what have you.”

He was always so vague about it and it worried her a bit, especially with him being so far away and on his own. Yeah, she needed her own space and if… no. Not if. When they could formally deal with all the paperwork and everything, she’d hoped they could do it on amicable terms.

And instead, the week after they agreed he should move out, he told her he was going to take up a business opportunity in London. A few months, at least, to see how it pans out. He’d let her keep the house. Let her keep everything, in fact, and within a few weeks, had flown off around the world.

“Classic mid-life crisis,” Evelyn, her friend and the kids’ godmother, had informed her over a cocktail brunch.

“Flying around the world?”

Evelyn shrugged. “Some guys buy a big red phallic car. People with money like Stede? They buy real estate in London.”

Mary studied her husband’s face in the small screen. He looked tired and no wonder if it was so early in the morning. “Maybe you can give us a video tour some time? I think the kids would love to see where you’re working.”

“Maybe, yeah, but… just not while the work’s being finished.”

In other words, probably a no. Not maliciously. He’d just… not bring it up again. Maybes were like that with him. A soft no.

He stifled a yawn in the back of his hand and she took pity on him.

“You should go and relax. Enjoy the weekend. You can clear up on Monday.”

His drawn expression eased a bit. “Yeah, maybe.”

Even as she hung up the phone, she knew he wouldn’t.

___________________________________

Stede ran a hand over his face, then got up and unpinned the office backdrop from the wall.

It was probably overkill.

Definitely overkill.

But the flat…

Turned out there were so many reasons the building hadn’t been leased for years. Everywhere he looked, there was more work to be done. It was happening, thank God. If he hadn’t had his inheritance from his dad and the business back home, it wouldn’t be.

The staff areas were all sorted out, but his living room and bedroom were… a bit more of a work in progress. Mary had a sharp eye. She would have noticed the holes in the wall, the lack of furniture, and then she would worry and then, she would call a friend who happened to be in the city and they would find out he definitely wasn’t where he said he was and then…

He tried not to think what would happen if she saw his day-to-day clothes these days. He’d tried jazzing up his outfits when they were still trying to pretend everything was fine. She hadn’t been… angry, per se. At least he didn’t think so. But she had asked why he couldn’t just dress like a normal person, especially in front of everyone.

Those words had rattled around in his head like a pea in a drum for weeks afterwards. It was why he still pulled on a bland shirt or a jumper every time he called home. Easier than seeing her purse her lips or roll her eyes.

Still, he could wear what he wanted now in his club and his flat. He might not have an entire wall in his bedroom, but by God, he was going to make the most of the wardrobe. He rolled up the backdrop and tucked it into the corner of the room, then pulled open the wardrobe door.

Ruffles and lace and silk and organza bloomed out like flowers and Stede breathed out a happier sigh at the sight. What she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her.

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#ofmd smau #ofmd fic: don't tell mama #our flag means death fic

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highdramas · 3 years

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forever is the sweetest con | b.b.

𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝'𝐬 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 | 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

warnings: language and tfatws spoilers? not really but just in case

word count: 2167

summary: bucky makes a friend in his neighbor and her cat.

note: hiiiii so happy that so many people enjoyed the world's a little blurry! i am going to be writing multiple one shots, all connecting and showing little snapshots from the life of bucky and the reader <3 you don't have to read them in order, but reading all of them will help you better understand the relationship!

enjoy! <3

“stupid fucking thing.”

the swearing followed by incoherent irritable grumbling is like a dog whistle to bucky barnes. he’s standing outside of his apartment, lingering in the hallway, waiting to see if the person will speak again. to the surprise of no one, bucky hasn’t put much effort into getting to know his neighbors. he gives curt nods as he passes them in the hallway, tries his best to muster a smile when he gets caught at the mailbox beside someone else. he thinks that it looks more like a grimace than anything, but still-- it’s something.

“son of a bitch.”

the voice is feminine, and it is angry. he’s trying to discern if there is any immediate distress, and if there is-- maybe he can help. he’s pulled from his thoughts quickly as a door swings open and a large box is thrown out onto the doorstep. “fucking hell.”

the door doesn’t close. it stays open, still swinging, as if recoiling from the force in which it was tossed open. bucky could very easily continue on his way to his apartment, put away the few groceries he had purchased-- mostly pasta and cereal-- and spend his evening how he spends most evenings. fighting off sleep, because he knows what comes the moment consciousness fades and the darkness swallows him whole.

but he doesn’t.

instead, he dashes to his door and places the bag at the entryway, turning back on his heel. he fiddles with his gloves as he grows closer and closer to the door. and then, he sees you.

bucky can’t see much-- the door is only cracked. but what he can see almost makes him laugh. you’re huddled over what he assumes is a cat tower. well, a sorry excuse for a cat tower, really-- it’s half put together with miscellaneous pieces strewn all around you. you seem to be studying the instruction manual, flipping through it before you eventually toss it to the side. “kitty, i don’t know about all of this,” he hears you say.

again, there are multiple options here in terms of what bucky can do. he can leave now, pretend he never saw anything. he can check on you, and then… and then what? he doesn’t know.

he knocks.

bucky takes a step back as you scramble to your feet, pushing your hair back. you open the door and up at the stranger. “hi.” the word is short, and he can tell that you are not in a good mood. “if you’re going to bitch me out about the noise, i’m sorry. i bought a new cat tower for my cat, and it’s a bitch to put together. and i hate building anything, so i’m basically useless.” you suck in a breath and muster a smile. “so, like i said. sorry. i’ll be a better neighbor tomorrow.”

you go to close the door, and he doesn’t know what he’s doing when he blurts-- “wait-- no.” he shakes his head, clears his throat. “no, i wasn’t gonna bitch you out. i was--”

what was he going to say? what was he going to do?

“i was going to say i could help. if you want.” he clears his throat and rubs at his chin with a gloved hand. “i’m alright at putting furniture together.”

you linger in the doorway and look at him. though there are countless people who look at him every day, oftentimes, bucky doesn’t feel like he’s being recognized. sometimes he wonders if he is secretly invisible, drifting through this too-long life as a ghost. but the look you give him is piercing, and the smile that follows makes his heart stop in his chest.

“i’m not gonna turn down someone building this god forsaken thing for me,” you open the door wider. “come on in.”

bucky finishes his handiwork on the cat tower within thirty minutes, but something about you draws him in, and now it has been an hour and a half and he has not tired of your company.

you are very charming. that is the first thing that bucky notices about you. and it’s not just your personality, either. everything in your apartment seems to drip in you. there is no wall that is bare, there are different colored lights twinkling around each window, plants galore. it makes him almost feel embarrassed about the state of his own home. if you can even call it that.

it’s not a home. it’s a place where he fights off his demons and drinks cheap beer and pretends that he is okay, pretends that he is not alone, pretends that he doesn’t need sam or his therapist or anyone else in order to figure out how to live in the present.

but yours. yours is a home.

there’s a pang of jealousy, nestled deep in his heart. he doesn’t care if the thought is unreachable for someone like him, someone who has done the sort of things that he has done-- he wants it.

the thought will never reach the light of day, of course. no, it will stay buried in his belly, churning with the guilt and the anguish and the loneliness, too.

“you good over there?”

“huh?”

bucky looks up to see that you’re looking at him. your head is tilted and your mouth slightly agape, and the look… he can’t quite place it. it’s more confusion and less concern, and in a weird way, he likes that. “yeah. i’m fine.”

he’s confused by the way that the corner of your mouth turns up. “you’re a good liar,” is all that you quip before you push up off the ground, dusting off your leggings. “do you like pizza? i’m starving, and i would cook us something, but i don’t want to subject you to that. my mom says the only thing i should ever make is cereal, and even that’s pushing it. says i use too much milk.”

bucky laughs.

and it shocks him. it takes no thought at all to laugh at your words, your charm, the way that you carry yourself with such easy self deprecating humor. you make him laugh.

you, on the other hand, don’t think anything of it. you raise your eyebrows at him. “well? it’s pizza or we’re eating two big bowls of honey nut cheerios.”

“pizza is good.”

you bite down on your lip and you nod, fishing your phone from your back pocket. “great.”

bucky studies you as you order the food.

he’s learning that there are many things that he envies you for.

every muscle in your body is loose and relaxed. you don’t walk, you seem to float-- drifting in and out of rooms, brushing past him, as if you’re made up of nothing but air and stardust. you joke with the employee on the other line and then you hang up and look back to him. “i said we’d go and pick it up. it’s my favorite place, just down the street.”

“yeah, that sounds nice.”

bucky follows your lead. he’d never taken off his jacket, or his gloves, but you hadn’t made a comment about them. you scramble into clothing suitable for a new york winter and then grin at him, face slightly obscured by the massive scarf. “ready?”

he nods, and then you set out. you’re quiet for a few moments, before you say, “you’re bucky, right?”

there’s a silence that settles between you, as if some jig is now up. you glance over at him. “that’s not a bad thing,” you say softly. “or an insult.”

“yeah, i know.” his elbow knocks against yours lightly. “but, yeah. i am.”

you nod and offer your own name in return, and that is that. you don’t allude to anything else that you might or might not about him, his past, or the fact that he was used as a hydra weapon for a majority of his life, now thrust into a brand new century. no, all you do is say, “bucky’s a nice name.”

“thanks, doll.”

the pet name rolls off of his tongue so easily, like breathing. he stops for a moment, leaning into the urge to be embarrassed, but you don’t let him. “no one’s ever called me that before,” you say, brushing against his arm. “i like it.”

“it’s what all the guys used to call their girls.” he stops. “not that, you know--”

“yeah, i know,” you laugh. “i know what you meant.” you glance up at him again. “like i said, i like it.”

bucky swallows his nervousness and instead comes reassurance at your words. “i can keep callin’ you doll, if you really like it that much.”

playfulness. ease. comfort. things he has not felt in so long-- yori has tried to pull them out of him when it comes to women, but it has always felt forced, too fast, not right. this feels right.

“you make it sound like it’s such a chore!” you gape at him, but your voice is not malicious in the slightest. you are holding james buchanan barnes in the palm of your hand and you do not even know it.

“it’s not a chore,” bucky reassures. “trust me.”

“whatever you say,” you point to a small hole in the wall shop. “this is it.”

bucky holds the door open for you and you smile and wink as a thank you and god it sends his mind spinning, intoxicated by even the look that you give him. your name is performed like a symphony by every employee in the shop-- they all grin and wave, some make small talk. they eye bucky who stands a step behind you. but you turn and you place a hand on his forearm and even through all of the layers he swears that your touch burns. “this is my neighbor--” you look to him.

bucky clears his throats and he musters a smile, somewhere between his normal grimace and the smile that only seems to form in your presence. “james.”

they greet bucky with kindness and send the both of you on your way with the large pizza and a free liter of diet coke. “her favorite,” the owner says pointedly, winking to you. “we’re always trying to tell her to stop. maybe you can get her to knock the habit.”

“i don’t think anyone can get me to stop drinking diet coke,” you joke, looking at bucky with a level of fondness. “but he can certainly try.”

“i’ll give it a valiant effort,” bucky says and he tips his head to everyone before he opens the door for you once more. he holds the pizza and you hold the soda, tucked beneath your arm, and you make the trek back to your apartment in comforting quiet.

bucky learns that you don’t have a dining room table. you call it a waste of space, so you two sit in front of your coffee table on floor pillows, eating off mismatched plates and drinking the diet coke out of mugs from the thrift store you frequent.

the night is growing quieter, and you think that both you and bucky sense that it is coming to an end. you think you might be a bit addicted to being around him. he reminds you of the smell after it rains and black coffee, of laughter under neon lights and gentleness.

bucky is beginning to gather his things to leave when a meow turns both of your heads. your eyes light up. “hi baby,” you coo and the cat goes right to you and you scoop her up in your arms, presenting her to bucky. “this is katherine. or kitty, as i call her. she’s normally pretty scared of people.”

bucky hesitates, looking between you and the cat. finally, his hand reaches out and scratches kitty beneath the chin. she purrs almost instantly, nuzzling her face into his hand. you watch, somewhere in between shocked and amazed, as bucky interacts with her. “no, i swear, she hates people.” you pause. “wanna hold her?”

“oh, i don’t know…”

you raise your eyebrows and then he looks back at the cat, who gives a yap. it seems to say: please? he huffs and it fades into a smile and he holds his arms out. you set kitty into them and watch as she curls into him, rubbing the top of her head against his chin.

a girlish laugh bubbles from the deep pit of you belly and you clasp your hands together in front of you, watching with hearts in your eyes. the corner of his mouth turns up as he continues to pet the cat.

“bucky,” you say, putting a hand on your hip. “i hate to inform you, she’s never gonna let you go now.”

bucky looks up at you through his lashes. you, with your easy and calm demeanor, your loud laugh and your inability to build even the simplest of furniture.

“i think i’m okay with that.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky x reader #bucky imagine #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes series #the world's a little blurry #bucky barnes fanfic

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ultraintrovertedgryffindor · 3 years

Text

Trauma Nightmares - Ben Miller (Escape Room)

I believe I will be at least one of the first people to make an x reader for this character, which is like, unacceptable. Ben is a cinnamon roll and deserves more love. Get👏🏻with👏🏻the👏🏻program👏🏻sheeple

! ! ! Spoilers for the Escape Room movies ! ! !

~~~~~~~~~~

(my gif)

You awoke to the sound of whimpering.

At first, your thoughts immediately went to your dog, maybe he needed to go out? But as you gained more consciousness, you realized it wasn't your dog at all.

You looked over to see your boyfriend's sleeping form in the dark, but you quickly noticed that something was wrong.

You quickly turned on your bedside lamp, illuminating Ben's face to show you his face contorted in a fearful expression, his eyes shut tightly and his fists clenching. He was whimpering and whispering words that only sounded muffled to you.

He was having another nightmare.

As soon as you saw tears streaming down his face, you gently shook him. "Ben." You said as softly as possible, caressing his face. He woke with a jolt, grabbing you by your shoulders tightly, wildly looking around the room in a panic. "Hey, it's okay. It's okay."

Ben was still tense, but his panicked look calmed when his eyes finally landed on your concerned face. He slowly released the vice grip he had on your shoulders. The tension finally being released made you want to wince, but you stayed quiet because you knew he'd feel awful about hurting you, even unintentionally.

Ben frantically ran his fingers through his tangled hair, exhaling a loud shuddering breath.

You took hold of his hand, bringing it up to place a kiss on his knuckles. "It was just a dream."

Ben frowned, "Yeah..."

It was more than just a dream. It was a memory that was even more fucked up being replicated by his subconscious every time he closed his eyes. There were nights where it wasn't so bad, but it was almost always the same...

Ben was in a large room, every inch decorated in a way that would make you think you were in a rich person's mansion. The walls covered with ornate looking wallpaper, the burning fireplace giving the gold patterns a reflective shine. It felt cramped, fancy furniture filling the room that emitted an old, sweet musk that permeated his nostrils. It might've been a cool place to hang out in, if only he wasn't trying to fight for his life.

The walls were closing in as Ben's mental timer counted down, only seconds away from getting crushed to death along with all the expensive looking and fragile furniture, pieces of splintering wood getting lodged in his skin and shards of glass from the chandelier quickly slicing flesh and making him bleed a bright red.

Ben thought he had gotten all the clues, he could've sworn the code for the door was correct. But the walls didn't stop pushing further and further in. The doors wouldn't open. There was no escape. He could never escape...

But he did. He did escape that wretched Minos building and he was here with you, the sweet scent of your freshly washed hair relaxed him more than you could ever know. Just you sitting with him was enough most of the time, he appreciated you so much.

Ben allowed his eyes to close when he felt your soft skin against his, gently running your thumb across his knuckles. Sometimes he wondered if you were an actual angel sent down to help him overcome his PTSD, it felt like it in moments like these.

"Do you want to talk about it?" You voiced softly.

Ben slightly shook his head. "It's the same as always. There would be no point."

You noticed the sweat stains on his shirt and came up with an idea. "How about I run you a hot bath?"

Ben looked at you. "Why?"

You offered a small smile. "It'll help soothe you." And without another word, you pushed your duvet off and stood on the cool carpet, walking to the joint bathroom without waiting for an answer from Ben.

You turned the valve almost all the way to the left, got water soon flowing out of the faucet and quickly filling up the tub. You stepped back into the room to see Ben blankly staring off into space, most likely thinking about his dream over and over again like he usually does.

You didn't understand what he was going through, because you were never in that type of situation. You were never trapped in those escape rooms, and you hoped you never would. The way Ben described it to you, you wouldn't wish it on your worst enemy. You wished you knew exactly what he needed, but alas, you weren't a psychologist and you felt helpless when it came to his nightmares/flashbacks. But you did research soothing techniques for people with PTSD, and it helped some.

Whenever Ben had a horrible nightmare and couldn't escape his own head, he'd allow you to take the lead and you'd try your best to help calm his mind. And tonight, it was a hot bath.

You lead Ben into the bathroom like a toddler, gently undressing him and slowly easing him down to sit in the tub. You smiled softly when you heard him let out a sigh, the hot water feeling like heaven against his skin. But he didn't have to say anything to let you know he wanted you to sit with him, his big green puppy dog eyes were practically begging you.

You quickly undressed, not as gracefully as you undressed Ben, but you soon placed yourself to sit behind him. You wrapped your arms around his torso, and he instinctually relaxed against you, your warm skin proving to be more soothing than the hot water that engulfed the two of you.

You soon entangled your fingers in Ben's long, blonde locks, gently working out the knots from his bedhead and massaging his scalp. You smiled softly when you heard him let out a whiny sigh, feeling the muscles in his back finally untensing in your embrace.

"I hate these fuckin' goddamn nightmares..." Ben voiced.

"I know." You frowned, giving a soft kiss to his shoulder. "I know...I wish I could do more to help you."

Ben turned his head to look at you. "Hey..." He brought his hand up to caress your cheek. "Just being here, with me, is more than enough. I honestly don't think I'd be able to keep my sanity if it weren't for you."

You gently shook your head. "You're strong, Ben. You would be okay."

Ben frowned, turning his head back to stare forward. "I'm not as strong as you think I am."

"You are strong. I wouldn't even survive the stress of a situation like that."

"You'd never know until you were in that place. That was the whole point of that goddamn murder maze. Seeing what someone is capable of when their life is on the line." He huffed, tensing once again at the thought of being back at Minos.

You hugged him tighter, laying your head on his shoulder. "You won't have to deal with that evil place ever again, okay? You're safe now."

Ben chuckled bitterly. "Zoey wants me to fly to Manhattan with her, to try and take down Minos. I don't the universe has much safety in store for me any time soon."

"Ben, I thought we talked about this. You don't have to feel obligated to go with Zoey when you want to move on. It's not your fault if she's still stuck there."

"She saved my life. I owe her everything."

You sighed, you knew you couldn't talk him out of it. Now, life debts, you could understand well enough. Zoey was a sweet girl, a bit intense, but for a good reason. If Ben was going to help her take down Minos, you wanted to help too.

"I'm going with you."

Ben's eyes widened, quickly shaking his head, turning around in the tub to face you. "No. No, you can't. It's too dangerous. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if something happened to you."

"And I wouldn't be able to live with myself if something bad happened to you. If you're going, I'm going too, and you can't talk me out of it."

"Y/n..."

"I love you, Ben. And I'll be damned if I don't do anything I can to help you." You finally snapped.

Ben blushed, his lip trembling slightly as tears built up his in eyes once again. "I don't want you to go through what I had to. Minos is run by psychopaths and they'll do anything to people for money. I just want you to be safe, at any cost...I've never felt that way about someone before..."

You smiled softly, leaning towards him and placing your hands on his cheeks before fully connecting your lips with his. "As long as we're together," You started once you pulled away, "I believe we'll be okay."

Ben finally nodded, enveloping you in a tight hug and releasing a shaky sigh. "I hope so..."

~~~~~~~~~~

Ben is my boy, he is very precious so me😊

#Escape Room #Escape Room 2019 #Ben Miller #ben miller x reader #ben miller imagine

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waitimcomingtoo · 3 years

Text

In Case You Don’t Live Forever

~chapter two rewritten~

Pairing: Peter Parker x Venom!Reader

Synopsis: you are Peters greatest love and Spider-Man’s greatest enemy

Masterlist and Series Masterlist

Moving and finding an apartment can be an incredibly long and stressful process. Unless you’re you, and life likes to throw a lot of curve balls at you for the utter hell of it.

Your dad dropped dead three weeks after you told Andy you were moving to New York. Coincidentally, right in the middle of you trying to find a place to live. He drank himself to death. Figures. You doubted you’d ever had a conversation with him that he was sober enough to remember. His untimely demise was unfortunate for him, because he died or whatever, but very fortunate for you. As his only child, you got his apartment in Queens and all his smelly hoodies.

You said your goodbyes to Andy and Dani after a night out in the streets of San Francisco. You had originally moved there after high school to start your show, The L/n Report. San Francisco was known for its crimes against the homeless population and you wanted to start with a story on that. You ended up interviewing Andy at the police station while investigating a missing person, and dated him for two years. Now, you were spending your last few hours in San Francisco with the very boy you once loved and the very girl he now did.

“Are you all packed?” Dani asked you, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“Pretty much. I gotta put my toothbrush and hairbrush in my suitcase in the morning. Other than that, I’m good to go.” You answered her. She smiled fondly at you as she linked her arm through yours.

“Hey, I’m really gonna miss you. More than that guy over there.” You whispered, nodding towards Andy, who had his head buried in his phone. Dani laughed and nodded in agreement as you continued to walk.

“I’m going to miss you too. You’re my best friend here.” She sighed sadly.

“I’m glad we’re friends. Most women in our position would hate each other.” You thought out loud.

“Uh uh. You’re thinking of women in films. It’s 2021, baby. Women support women. You and I are two talented, smart, beautiful women who would never be caught fighting over some boy. Especially not one who can’t take his eyes off his phone for two seconds.” Dani said loudly and smacked Andy’s arm. You laughed at the domestic moment but couldn’t help feeling a pain in your heart knowing he used to be that way with you.

“What, sorry?” Andy looked up. You and Dani looked at him before looking at each other and laughing.

“What’s funny?” He asked, growing annoyed.

“We’re laughing at you babe. Put your phone away. It’s Y/N’s last night here.” Dani scolded playfully. Andy sighed and reluctantly put his phone in his pocket.

“Right, sorry. And it’s not her last night here. She’s coming back. You are coming back, right?” He asked you. You nodded, though you weren’t entirely sure.

“Of course I’ll be back.” You shrugged. “I just want to experience something new for a while. I’ve done a million pieces on homelessness and poverty. I want to see what fresh stories New York has to offer.”

“You’re quoting the Daily Bugle, aren’t you?” Dani teased you.

“That is verbatim what they said to me.” You admitted with a laugh. “But hey, it worked. As of tomorrow, I’m the Daily Bugle’s newest investigative reporter.”

“Who are you reporting on anyway?” Andy showed a rare interest in your work.

“Some guy named Cletus Kasady.” You answered. “He’s some hot shot serial killer down in Queens. No one knows how he’s hiding his victims bodies. Apparently none have ever been close to being found.”

“And they want you to write the story on him?” Andy raised an eyebrow, always with the condescending tone.

“Well they heard about the whole Carlton Drake situation and decided I hadn’t been through enough trauma in my career.” You replied, earning a laugh from Dani but not Andy. You and Andy had already broken up by the time Carlton Drake contracted a symbiote and tried to kill you and Venom. You stopped him before he could hurt anyone and wrote a career defining article on his lethal human experiments. You managed to leave out all information regarding symbiotes from the article, so your secret was still safe. You were a fairly well known reporter since the incident and your next job was waiting for you in New York.

In the morning, You and Venom got on a plane and made your way to New York. Being on a plane with Venom turned out to be the equivalent to traveling with a toddler. You tried to sleep, but every two seconds you had to stop Venom from getting into trouble. She kept trying to open the window, even after you explained to her that everyone on the plane would die horrible death if the window were to open.

“Stop that.” You whispered when you noticed a black tendril creeping towards the window. The lady in the seat next to you shot me a look of confusion. You gave her a fake smile and turned back to the window, doing your best to conceal the small black tendril that was coming out of your body and fidgeting with the airplane window.

“We want it open.” Venom replied telepathically.

“Do you also want us to blow out of the plane and into space?” You said through my teeth.

“We didn’t anticipate that but it’d be appreciated.” Venom answered, making you groan. The rest of the plane ride followed in similar fashion.

Seven hours later, you arrived at the apartment building. You had never been to your dads apartment, you didn’t even know he had one. You wondered what happened to your childhood home as you looked around the place. The apartment wasn’t too small but not too big either. The rent was practically nothing compared to how expensive San Francisco was, and The Daily Bugle offered to cover your expenses until the story was done. You figured after some redecorating and moving in, it would make a fine new home.

The first seven days in the apartment went by smoothly. You unpacked, with little to no help from Venom, and set up the furniture. On the eight day, you sat on the couch, aimlessly flipping through channels in the TV when you had a thought.

“Oh shit.” You said out loud.

“What?” Venom, who was curly nestled around your neck like a neck pillow, asked.

“I forgot mail exists.” You frowned. “We better go check the mailbox before it overflows.”

You and Venom grudgingly walked to the mailboxes and back again. No one was around, so she manifested herself and rested on your shoulder as I looked through the mail.

“Oops. I grabbed someone else’s mail too.” You clicked your tongue when you read a strangers name off the envelope. “I gotta find them.”

“Let’s go.” Venom said and pulled you towards the front door.

“Sorry, babe. This is a me thing, not a we thing. You know I love you but I don’t want to scare our neighbors. Not yet anyway.” You reasoned. Venom grumbled and went back inside your body.

You checked the address of the envelope and discovered that it belonged to the apartment directly across from you.

You knocked on the door and patiently waited for someone to open it as you mindlessly cracked your knuckles. Just as you were about to walk away, the door opened.

“Hi, are you May Parker?” You asked right away. You looked up from the envelope and your face instantly flushed. The person staring back at you definitely wasn’t May Parker. It was a boy around your age, maybe a little younger. He had soft brown eyes and wavy brown hair. It was gelled back loosely and you could see the outline of soft curls. To your surprise, he was just as flushed as you were. You stared at each other for a moment, no one wanting to be the first to blink.

“Yea. I’m May Parker.” The boy said finally. He shut his eyes in embarrassment and shook his head.

“I mean, no I’m not. But that’s my Aunt. May is my Aunt but I’m not May. That’s my Aunt May. I’m her nephew…obviously. Aunt May is my Aunt May. I…what?” He stumbled over his words and somehow turned even redder. His blush reached all the way down his neck, to his blue jumper that read “Midtown Tech” in yellow letters. You recognized the name of one of the most prestigious high schools in New York, already impressed with your new neighbor.

“Well hello, not May Parker. I’m also not May Parker. But I seemed to forget that when I grabbed your mail this morning. Sorry about that.” You said sheepishly as you handed his mail to him. The boy rubbed the back of his neck as he looked at it and attempted to redeem himself.

“It’s not problem. She and I always forget to check the mail so you actually helped us, um, whoever you are.” He smiled weakly. His voice was cute. He had that Queens accent that the people of San Francisco lacked, for obvious reasons.

“Oh, right.” You laughed in embarrassment. “I’m Y/N L/N. I just moved here from San Francisco. I live across the hall.”

You pointed to the door behind you as if he didn’t know what “across the hall” meant. You didn’t know what was wrong with you. You were never this awkward.

His eyes lit up a bit once you told him where you lived.

“Really? I thought that smelly guy lived there.” The boy said and you stifled a laugh.

“That smelly guy was my father. He died a little while ago so I live there now.” You told him, malign the boys eyes widen. They were so brown. Like little pools of honey. Or little pools of the Hudson River. You had seen a million pairs of brown eyes before, but none like his. They were quite distracting to be honest.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry! I had. I had no idea-“ he began to frantically apologize but you cut him off.

“Don’t worry about it. We never got along. And you’re right, that man stank.” You chuckled. It was the first thing you said that felt like your old self. You hadn’t really talked to anyone since moving to New York, with the exception of Venom and the occasional phone call from Andy or Dani. You liked talking to this boy, though you still had no idea who he was.

“Oh thank God. I thought I screwed this up before it even went anywhere.” He immediately turned red when he heard his own words. You saw the regret in his eyes and decided to throw him a bone.

“Well it certainly can’t go anywhere until you tell me your name.” You flirted. Again, he relaxed. You felt a surge of confidence knowing he wanted this to go well.

“Parker. I’m Parker Peter. I mean, Peter Parker.” He fumbled over his words again, making you smile fondly.

“We like him. He’s cute.” Venom said telepathically. You looked down at my shoes and blushed, knowing you liked him too.

“And he looks delicious.” She added, ruining the moment.

“It’s nice to meet you Peter Parker.” You gave him your best smile. “I’m glad there’s someone my age around here. Everyone I’ve met so far is either an old bitty or a creepy uncle type.” You regretted it as soon as it left your mouth. You didn’t know what his sense of humor was like and he might not find you the slightest but funny. Andy always told you you were bad at telling jokes, and you feared he might be right.

Lucky for you, Peter burst out laughing.

“Ah. I’ve seen you’ve met Henry.” Peter pointed a finger down the hall. “Yeah, I’d stay away from him. He asked me if he could have pictures of my feet once. He said he’d “pay me handsomely” for it too.”

“Damn. So he beat me to asking you.” You pretended to be upset, which made Peter laugh again. The sound of his laugh made your heart pick up speed. You weren’t used to feeling like this. Boys rarely impressed you, Andy was just lucky you liked a man in uniform.

“Yeah. You better stay away from him.” Peter advised.

“It might be hard.” You clicked your tongue. “Our mailboxes are pretty close. I’ll make a mental note to never check my mail while wearing flip flops, though.”

Peter smiled at your joke. He had the kind of smile that you would make the person laugh just to see it again. It was brilliant.

“Well my mailbox should be directly above yours. So don’t worry, I’ll protect you.” He grinned, and you grinned back.

“My hero.” You gushed as you put your hands over your heart. The tips of his ears went pink, like he was shocked that you said that.

“I’m no hero.” He sounded almost panicked, like you touched a nerve or something.

“We’re hungry. We need to eat.” Venom interrupted abruptly, causing you to jump. Since Peter couldn’t hear her, he looked at you strangely, not knowing the cause of your sudden jolt.

“Sorry, I uh, I thought I saw a spider.” You lied.

“If there was a spider, we’d eat it. We need food. Now.” Venom demanded.

Peter looked up at his doorframe for the imaginary spider.

“Yeah, New York is full of them.” Peter said skeptically. “Not that full, though. And some spiders are nice. One might even call them friendly.”

“Right.” You laughed at his strange wording, unaware that you were both keeping a secret.

“Would…” Peter began but trailed off, seemingly mulling something over in his head. “Would you like to eat dinner with my Aunt and I? I remember when we first moved in, it took us a while to get into the swing of things and make dinner every night. If you like, you could join us. And, you know, we could get to know each other.” He offered. It all came out in one breath. You could tell he was nervous and that only drew you in more.

“I’d love to Peter.” You said, and he smiled in relief.

“Great.” He gave an awkward thumbs up. “We usually eat around six so maybe come around then? She’ll be so happy to meet you. She loves cooking and she always tries to get me to learn but I once burnt cereal and I still don’t know how.” Peter began to ramble. He cut himself off and shook his head again. “Sorry. I’m rambling.”

Then, you did something stupid. You put your hand on his arm like the dumb bitch you were. You barely knew this guy. Who the hell were you to touch him? He must’ve been thinking the same thing, since he instantly froze under your touch and stared at your hand on his arm.

“Don’t apologize. I can’t cook either. Unless you count making tater tots as cooking. Then I’m Gordon Ramsey.” You assured him, feeling him relax under your touch.

“You’re just gonna mention tater tots without warning us first? Our mouth is watering. Can we eat Peter?” Venom asked, making your eyes widen.

If it was socially acceptable to scream at your symbiote in public, you would’ve yelled “NO, WE CANNOT EAT PETER” from the top of your lungs. But since you didn’t want to scare Peter and the rest of the neighbors away, you merely smiled and made another mental note to smack the shit out of Venom later.

“I love that man. “Where is the lamb sauce?” Peter mimicked in a bad British accent. He had no right being as charming as he was.

“No no no.” You shook your head. “His best line is “I’ll get you more pumpkin and I’ll ram it right up your ass. Would you like it whole or diced?”. He’s said some pretty wild things but that one makes me cry.”

Peters laugh rang through the halls. To be the cause of that laugh was a feeling like no other. You stood there for a while, just looking at each other. His eyes grazed down your body, but not in a crude way. You berated yourself for not dressing better when going to meet the neighbors, clad in nothing but a grey hoodie and some leggings. Peter looked cute, but you had a feeling he always did. His jumper was pretty baggy and you could see a collared shirt poking out the top. He was dressed almost professionally and you found it incredibly endearing.

You wanted to know more about him. You wanted to know his secrets and his hobbies and what makes him itch. You wanted to see if he dresses this way on weekends too or what his summer clothes looked like. Your gawking was interrupted by Peters phone ringing. He broke out of his trance and answered it quickly.

“Hi, Mr. S. No I’m not busy. I mean, I’m super busy but I can totally make time for you. Yea, Happy talked to me. Okay. Okay. Where? Okay. See you in a bit.” Peter hung up and looked at you apologetically.

“That was my job. I have to run but I’ll be back in time for our dinner. I live at…you know where I live. I’ll see you then. Don’t be late.” Peter called as he ran down the hallway, towards the elevator.

“I won’t. See you later.” You called back.

You went back to your apartment and like a kid, broke out into a happy dance.

“Venom!! Did you see how cute he was?” You gushed. “And how funny he is? I have to get ready for tonight.”

Venom manifested and swirled around my arm.

“Someone has a crush.” Venom smirked. Well, as much of a smirk as she could muster with that huge mouth of hers.

“I don’t have a crush. I just think he’s cute okay?” You replied coyly. “Cute. And funny and sweet and charming and amazing. But that’s it.”

“We can feel your heart beat.” Venom reminded you. “It was going ten miles an hour. What would Andy say?”

You had been rummaging through your closet and stopped in your tracks. With Peters new inhabitance in your mind, you had forgotten all about Andy. You moved to New York to avoid his wedding and his moving on, and you might’ve succeeded.

“I don’t care what he’d say.” You decided. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

“But we want him to be.” Venom insisted. “We want him back, remember?”

“I don’t know what I want.” You answered honestly. “I just want to get ready for tonight.”

“Why are you getting ready now? You have 5 hours until you have to be there and it’s right across the hall.” Venom teased.

“Only 5 hours?” You sighed. “We better get moving.”

#peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker imagine #peter parker x venom!reader #venom!reader #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland fluff #tom holland fanfiction #iron man

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333sth · 3 years

Text

dove. (frankie morales)

chapter i. previous.

pairing: frankie morales x ofc (’dove’) no use of y/n.

warnings: mention of ptsd/military service, language, violence, brief mention of torture/kidnapping, injury detail, fighting.

summary: frankie was going to propose, until dove found the ring and ghosted. even santi can’t track her down.

rating: mature. wc: 1.6k

Dove was a nickname coined by an old general during her training. He was a traditional man, though not disrespectful. It was a term of endearment that probably softened the influx of powerful women breaching into the male territory. He’d drawled, ‘I ought to call you Dove – I ain’t never seen a girl so swift, yet so fuckin’ lethal.’ She kept the boys in line too, he’d noted. When Benny got too reckless, or Tom’s temper ran away with him, she was the first to snap them out of it. In environments where peace was a very distant concept, she played the peacekeeper.

One time, during a two-month deployment in Nigeria, the group was shoved in the back of an ancient pick-up truck for six hours. Dove was wedged between Will and Frankie, sweltering in the humid air. The stale smell of sweat mixed with blood and diesel was permeating the air, and they were three hours from the nearest checkpoint. To pass the time, she asked them what they’d do if they weren’t special forces.

That was easy for Will – he’d be a teacher of some kind. Benny waffled about sports, making some brash comment about how he’s got to channel all his aggression somewhere. Tom and Santi couldn’t come up with anything that suited them more than the forces, which was not surprising. Frankie would still be a pilot somehow. Dove had never seen him more comfortable than in the pilot’s chair.

Dove dreamed of owning her own bar or café, somewhere relaxed and laid-back. A beach perhaps, somewhere quaint and peaceful, where the air is warm well into the late evening and the waves are gentle, collapsing onto the sand like white noise. She imagined the hum of conversation meeting tinkling music, beach lanterns dotted around the decking to cast an ambient glow beneath the stars. Maybe a chef on weekends could make bar snacks. Tom had snorted at that, throwing a jab about how she can burn the water they use to make their dried food sachets.

The men had recalled this conversation, desperately trying to fathom where Dove might have taken off to. It was met with an aching nostalgia for the type of teammate she was too. That conversation had been a tactic, a peaceful one, to prevent the terrible concoction of adrenaline, exhaustion and heat forming an argument in that truck. She was a natural tactician as well as a good friend.

Frankie had recounted each country they had been stationed and exactly how Dove had felt about them. She had loved Argentina, even when she got shot and Will spent three hours with his finger crammed in the wound to stop the bleeding. But she also liked Jamaica, Brazil and Hawaii. None of their contacts in the forces had any trace of her, not even Santi’s in South America. Her family were none the wiser – they brushed it off, her dad mumbling something about it sounding like her usual antics.

All he had was a scribbled note that read, ‘I need space. I’m safe. I love you.’ It was folded neatly in his wallet, like he was carrying the last piece of her that he had.

Mexico. That was where she was. A small town on the West coast that had enough life to keep her occupied, and the guarantee of anonymity.

If people asked, she was a retired nurse, which wasn’t entirely untrue. She told them she spent a lot of her career in humanitarian aid, to explain the occasional jitters on a rowdy Friday night and the nasty scars. There was a particularly gruesome one leading from the base of her throat up to her bottom lip from a knife fight. She told them it was shrapnel, flung from a collapsing building, and she was lucky it didn’t catch her jugular. The locals had gasped in awe at her heroism. She’d flinched against the memory of how her own knife buried into her attacker’s throat instead.

A few days into her move, Dove had found what could only be considered a derelict shed on the beachfront. It was probably the remains of an old boathouse. With some help from the locals, she had restored the ageing planks of wood. What was spare formed the bar and some rustic furniture. She pieced together a jumble of second-hand bar stools, chairs and lanterns that made for an eclectic combination. It had character and history in its walls, rather than some swanky, expensive build devoid of any personality. It was exactly what she had dreamed of, huddled in hypothermic temperatures or insomniac in her cot at base, sleep beyond her reach.

It didn’t change the fact that every time she entered her bedroom, the old polaroid of Frankie pinned to the wall hits her like a ton of bricks. Frankie knows she took it – it was pinned to the fridge at their home before she left. It’s quintessential Frankie, sat with his arms folded to his chest, biceps straining slightly against an old denim shirt that was getting a little too snug post-retirement. It was at a barbecue, his skin tanned and flushed from a day in the sun drinking, tousled hair peeking out from the sides of a dog-eared cap. Every time Dove glances at it, she wonders if he still has that hat.

‘Of course he has,’ the voice in her head snaps back. Any piece of clothing she’d suggest replacing would be countered with, ‘over my dead body’. The man was sentimental, a little too attached to his home comforts. She’d also bought it him in a seedy gift shop in the middle of nowhere as a joke.

“To add some variety,” she’d said. He would never let it go now.

Once, Veronica had eyed the photograph on her mirror and asked, “Who is he then? An ex?”

Veronica, or Roni for short, had lived in the town her whole life until university. When she graduated and moved home to save money, she needed a job. Dove needed a friend, so she took her on as a bartender. She was young and giddy, but harmless. More importantly, she was too self-absorbed to notice or even care that her thirty-something year old boss had bullet holes in her back.

“Something like that.” Dove had replied, rifling through her sorry excuse for a makeup bag. She’d closed the bar early to have a rare night off in the next town over, which had considerably livelier nightlife.

“You never talk about relationships. Or men.’ Roni observed, peering over Dove’s shoulder to eye another photograph. It was a group picture of the boys, huddled in the same fraying booth in their favourite bar back in Florida. “Looks like you were spoilt for choice.”

Dove scoffed, meeting her friend’s twinkling gaze in the mirror. “Shut your mouth. They were friends from work.”

“Were? Does that mean you can’t set me up now?”

“They’re almost twice your age. You’d tire ‘em out.” Dove set down the lip-gloss she dragged out for special occasions. “Come on, I’m not getting any younger either. It’s already passed my bedtime.”

Thankfully, that was enough to amuse the younger girl into linking her arm and hauling her out the door to the taxi, no more questions asked.

The hollering of spectators and thudding of skin slapping against the mat was reduced to a distant buzzing in Frankie’s ears. It was dimmed by the incessant ramblings of Santiago and Tom, discussing the files Santi had put together on Lorea. He could feel the reawakening of his rusty military senses as he follows the familiar tactics, mentally registering his agreement or noting what he might do differently. He doesn’t vocalise it though, because he hasn’t even agreed yet. Joining the debate would inadvertently signal his agreement. He didn’t want that.

There was a shadow lingering in the space on the bench beside him. It was an empty presence, not Will, who was hooked on the cage of the ring yelling encouragement to his brother. Not Benny, thumping his leather gloves together with his teeth pulled harshly over his mouthguard, judging his competitor with a predatory glint in his eye.

The opponent was a monster, but he lumbered like his limbs were filled with lead. Frankie notes that Benny, nimble and tall, will have a breeze tiring him out. Dove would have joked that it wasn’t worth coming, that they’ll be sat here until their asses are numb watching Benny play cat and mouse. His chest twinges. Sometimes it’s too easy to remember what she’d do, what she’d say. He wished he knew what she’d make of Santiago’s proposition. She always saw through Pope’s glamourisation and Tom’s greed.

What Frankie misses while he observes his pitiful surroundings is Tom and Santi descending into a hushed conversation. Tom nudges Santi, “You got anything on Dove?”

Santi sighs, long and solemn, “Maybe.” As Tom’s face quirks in interest, he holds up his finger, “It’s just a hunch.”

“A hunch is better than what we’ve had in the last year.”

Santi takes a sip of his beer, casting a glance at Fish, whose eyes are trained on the floor and the swirling contents of his cup. He knows him well enough to know his thoughts are the only thing that have his attention.

“I worry about him. We all do.” Tom whispers. “Getting busted just made things worse.”

“Don’t get his hopes up, man. It’s nothing solid. It’ll crush him if I’m wrong.” Tom nods solemnly before Santi continues, “A friend of mine saw an ex-Delta in a bar, a woman. He knew ‘cause of a tattoo she had on the nape of her neck.”

Tom’s eyes widen. In front of them, Benny lands a sickening punch on his opponent’s nose, complimented by an audible crack. He’s barely breaking a sweat, dancing around as the guy heaves and stumbles forward.

Santi’s gaze doesn’t break from the ring. “Mexico. I think she’s in Mexico.”

#Frankie Morales #frankie morales x reader #triple frontier imagine #frankie morales imagine #triple frontier fic #francisco morales #Triple Frontier #frankie catfish morales #Frankie morales fic #Frankie Morales x OFC #Pedro Pascal #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fanfiction #benny miller #will miller #Santiago Garcia #santiago pope garcia #ben miller #dove fic

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yandere-society · 3 years

Text

The Rabbit Hole

Summary: The Windy City in the mid-1920s is a spectacle of lights and sounds, roaring with the excitement of jazz music and swinging dance moves. Amid the brilliant stars of Chicago nightlife, there is a dark underground of secrets, mainly that being the mysterious Wonderland Ball you've been invited to participate in and be crowned the next "Alice". What you don't know is you may or may not be allowed to leave, per the Mad Hatter and a White Rabbit's desires. So, daring and brave as you are, you decide to take a journey down The Rabbit Hole and come face to face with high society - people - as you've never seen them before.

Genre: Yandere; Historical Fiction/ Fantasy Based In The 1920′s; Smut; Thriller; Alice in Wonderland Inspired

Warnings: Yandere themes, Mentions of drug/ alcohol use with/without consent, mentions of “gangsters”, light talks of selling your soul/ the devil/ religious “themes”?, sedative drugs used non-consensually, vivid dreams/nightmares, maybe light profanity? Smut: Non-protected sex (twice), creampies, oral sex (f and m receiving/giving), slight nipple play?, spanking, marking, bruising, slightly rough sex, use of a sex swing/ sex swing intercourse, f and m orgasms. I think that’s it.

Pairings: Jeon Jungkook (White Rabbit) x Reader (Alice) x Kim Seokjin (Mad Hatter), Side Pairing of Johnny (Jonathan) Suh from NCT x Reader, Johnny x Jung Jaehyun from NCT.

Author’s Notes: This is not going to be a historically accurate piece. As much as I am an advocate for research and learning about the times of old, I am only human and I am short on time researching in between my full time job. I have grown up and currently live in Chicago and I have never written a story about the Windy City before so here I am, writing to you about the wonderful city I call home. I am doing my best to stay true to my writing as well as make it as accurate as one can, but please forgive me if there are faults in this story!

We are not doing a collective Valentine’s Day event this year but the contents of this piece have been weighing heavily on my mind, so I asked if I could write this story for a little something-something. I hope you all enjoy it!

Written By: Admin 💖 @therealmintedmango

Also, who do you think the other boys from BTS are from Alice in Wonderland in this story? I’d love to know!

Stepping out of my very own vehicle my future husband’s family sent for me, I take in the sights and the sounds that Chicago provides this snowy afternoon.

People waltz around one another and mingle about, snow crunching under their feet. The faint sounds of jingle bells float down the streets in the chilly air, it smells of popcorn and roasted nuts as well as the sludge of gasoline tainting the snow. A cold breeze gliding across the buildings nearly knocks me off my feet as I look up to my new place of residence, a new high-rise Michigan Ave. The stars above my head seem to sparkle in the dark sky, or are those just the electric lights from the grand buildings surrounding me?

Curious, I think as I continue to have my sights set above the horizon. I’ve certainly strayed very far from the corn fields of back home. Inhaling the sharp, bitterly cold air around me, I feel a sense of dread almost wash over my senses. I knew what I was signing up for when I came here. Jonathan and I discussed it in great detail over the wire.

The reality of the situation is finally sinking into my layers of clothing.

Jonathan Suh, the grandson of Suh Realtor Industries Incorporated - which owns about one third of Chicago - has asked me to marry him. It was seemingly out of the blue too. I was going to spend the next years of my life trying to marry into the best livestock or vegetable farmer in town, not the filthy rich grandson in a large city. It felt like a dream when he called me and begged me to come as soon as possible. I suppose it pays off to be kind to everyone, especially when it felt like it was yesterday we were both in grammar school together.

I drink it all in, the busy sounds, the cold night air that leaves me feeling bitter and raw standing in the street while snow begins to descend from the blackened sky. It feels foreign to me even though it’s only about two hours away from the farm. The breeze blistering in from the west sends a chill up my spine.

This is a new beginning, I ponder to myself as I stretch upwards in the middle of the sidewalk. This is my chance at a better life, this is way better than being some poor, sad farm girl. That’s right! I’m going to be the wife of my childhood friend who just happened to be some rich playboy who has more money than he knows what to do with.

I’m going to be a Suh!

...Even if the whole arrangement is a sham...

“Miss, you are going to freeze to death outside!” Jonathan’s maids rush to usher me out of the cold quickly, but not before I accidentally bump into someone on the busy sidewalk.

“I beg you to pardon me,” I mumble as I set my sights over my shoulder on a man dressed in a long coat with hair as white as the snow currently blanketing the ground. “You’ll have to forgive me, I am just enraptured with how bright Chicago seems to shine at night.”

The man’s seemingly red eyes expand with my excitement, then soften. “No pardon to beg, Miss…?” He queries, a bloom of warmth spreading across his face.

“Suh.” I smile as the men shout from my car they have finished unpacking. “Well, I am the future Mrs. Jonathan Suh. For now I suppose I am still Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Strange, I didn’t think he… Well, never mind that now.” His eyes linger on mine. “Johnny’s got good taste.” I hear him mumble under his breath in a deep tone, slurring his words together in a string. “Well, I can’t wait to see more of you, future Mrs. Jonathan Suh.” He says as he swings his coat behind himself and takes off down the street, the crowd and the night dissolving him like a pill in warm water.

Curious and curiouser this night becomes, I think as the maids finally have enough of me standing about in the cold.

“Do you know who that was?” I ask the hoard of them, hoping someone has the answer to my bump in the night with a rather odd fellow. My heart is beating but I’m not sure what for. I know my place. I know why he called me… My fate was sealed as soon as I got the wire from my future husband.

The collective flock shake their heads and mutter polite “noes” as they lead me up grand staircases of marble and through dim corridors at this time of night, leaving my brain a drifting piece of snow in the blizzard that will surely accumulate outside overnight.

“Right this way.” A young redhead coos as she parades me up what must be my twentieth flight of stairs I’ve climbed this evening. “Master Suh will be so happy you are here at last!” They lead me into a beautiful room with the most lavish furniture I’ve ever seen in my life! Magazines and pictures certainly don’t bestow such fine items with quite the same honor as seeing such beauty in person.

“Madam Suh has a full schedule for you this weekend.” One of the elderly looking women dares to swoon as she says, “Wedding planning, I’m sure, no doubt.” My coat is taken from me and I am given house slippers to wear.

The flock - or really I should call them a herd of lemmings - all agree once more as a butler leads us through a hallway with objects of fine art, pottery, and paintings. Each item is so uniquely wonderful that it would make my brothers’ and sisters’ heads spin if they saw how perfect and polished everything is. How ornate and lavish! Am I to spend my life with fine, intricate pieces of art from all mediums? I wonder if Jonathan has created any of these himself? Would he allow me to paint? I wonder...

“Master Suh,” I inhale, realizing I am right at the threshold of a beautiful oak door. “Miss Y/N Y/L/N has arrived.” The butler announces.

My body feels all fuzzy and nervous for some reason. It’s been many years since I’ve seen my dear friend from when we were still learning how to hop on a bicycle in the country where his family had a small house and property that butted up against my family’s by the little lake in the middle of a corn field.

“Y/N!” A deep, refreshing voice purrs before he embraces me in a tight hug. “How was your ride? Did the car fair well, unlike the weather?” He chuckles as his tall frame dwarfs mine in comparison. The scent of him is most definitely cinnamon, scotch, and leather, which I’m not surprised. All fine things to smell of for certain.

The maids all giggle and mumble their approval and the butlers look away, anxious to gaze upon a woman in another man’s arms. I suppose his gesture of a greeting is very rude, but I don’t mind. Being smack-dab in the middle of my siblings, I feel like nothing phases me anymore, even the hug Jonathan wraps around me.

“Jonathan Suh,” I simper, pulling out of his embrace, “The ride was not too terrible, and my, how tall you’ve grown! And so dapper too.” I sigh earnestly. “It’s a pleasure to see you again.”

“I hope you say that every day you wake up and I am there beside you.” Jonathan’s brown eyes seem to daze in the glow from the lamp lights in the sitting parlor.

There’s nothing more I hate than an arrogant flirt, not to mention an arrogant flirt with money is all the more trouble. Is this really going to be the rest of my life? Living with Jonathan like this? So contrived and fake… it makes my insides twist.

“I am rather weary though from a day full of travels.” I pretend to yawn, shifting out of his arms bit by bit and heading toward the door. “May I have the delight in seeing you tomorrow?”

“Oh yes, you must be quite tired. I always get sleepy on car rides.’ Jonathan muses as he extends his hand to the door and the staff scramble into place. “Mr. and Mrs. Alan would you please escort Y/N to her room? I will be here but on the other end of the house until we are...you know-”

“Goodnight, Jonathan.” I say almost too quickly after that, leaving almost as swiftly as I’ve come.

Once my hair is down and I am dressed comfortably in my nightgown, I feel like I can take a deep breath again. It feels odd with my hair unpinned, sitting in a brand-new nightgown, overlooking the rocking waves of the lake and the snow that drifts down from the sky. Basking in the sill of my window from the beautiful lights and moonlight shining through my velvet curtains, I hope and pray that every night I spend in Chicago is not as forced and fake as this one has been.

I’m chasing something odd in my dream.

I move between pictures hanging on the walls, through the bellies of grandfather clocks, I emerge through the darkness every time, chasing a little white rabbit with a cottontail through or around objects of grand design. I have never had a dream that felt so vivid and real, like I am actually flying through my thoughts, time of the utmost essence for some unknown reason. I can’t seem to escape a dark feeling looming around me and I feel slightly frightened that I will not catch the little thing.

When I reach for the little dumpling covered in pretty white fur, it lurches forward, propelling my desire to catch up to the little beast.

I descend deeper and deeper, the spotlight in the darkness focused solely on the bunny ahead of me. I can’t reach him, I’m not fast enough, my feet do not carry me quick enough. I call to the animal but it doesn’t hear me, instead it flies between two large velvet curtains.

“Please!” I beg the animal as I pop through the hole in the curtains, shuffling through on my knees. “Where are you taking…me…” My question dies in my throat as I look up to find red eyes, his curly blonde hair waving at me from under a gold top hat, a gold mask from that of a masquerade celebration covering most of his face.

But, I know that soft smirk well now. I’ve replayed it several times already in my mind like the fool I am.

This is the man I met on the sidewalk. I gasp. But, why is he inhabiting my dream?

“Welcome to Wonderland, Alice.” A soft voice wafts from high above the two of us, making me shiver. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

Why am I frightened? Surely this is not a nightmare. I was only following a rabbit and now I am here with these two men.

Slowly, my eyes trail up the large mahogany platform, showcasing a very large, ornately plush gold and maroon seat which houses a man in an all green suit of the finest quality. He is also wearing a mask trimmed with greens and golds, his lush lips pinkened like he had just indulged in delicious raspberry jam pulled into a dark smirk. He sits with the side of his pale face in one of his hands, resting comfortably on the arm of the pretty chair. The man from the street sits on a swing that hangs high from the rafters, silently taking me in. An aura of power and class drips tastefully from every fiber of his being, weighing heavily upon me like he is a hammer and I am but a humble nail.

“Good job chasing rabbits.” The man’s smile further stretches, his amber eyes boring down upon me, making my skin want to jump from my skeleton. “The next step is to find The Rabbit Hole.”

My eyes fling open, a train's loud horn blaring in the distance, the golden morning haze filtering from the curtains across the room. I jolt upward in bed, cold sweat beading my body, tainting the beautiful nightgown the Suhs have given me. I throw the sheets off my bed and clutch my forehead, musing the words of the man in all green over and over to myself in a frenzy.

...What a dreadfully vivid dream...

I’ve been here for almost a week and I’ve lost count of the tea parties and luncheons I’ve attended with Mrs. Suh. The people and the houses and families they all belong to are getting lost to me in the wake of planning for a wedding. Though, I’m not sure how much I am actually planning. Merely pointing between two colors of table placemats and napkins or choosing between a flower or two.

Tonight though, it is another snowy evening on the lakeshore, we are attending a jazz concert at the Sunset Cafe to see a wonderful show performed by the talented Cab Calloway and Louis Armstrong who make the most wonderful music. I was practically buzzing when I heard the news that the Suhs would be taking me this evening. As always, Jonathan and his mother have only two options for me to wear this evening and I must make a choice between them. A silver, more A-lined gown that shows off more skin than one should in the winter with a mink-fur cowl or more fluttering, off the shoulder velvet cobalt-blue style of a ball gown with embroidered golden stars falling from the bust in waves of tulle.

Call me old fashioned, but I choose the one that makes me feel like a princess, not the one that makes me fit in. My thoughts wander between which Suh picked out which dress for me to wear and the dream of me chasing a white rabbit.

I can never seem to catch that rabbit nor have I seen the two men since my first dream. It relieved me, but it also scared me.

A shimmering laugh that is made of moonbeams and stars pulls me from my spell of thought that engrossed me.

The Suhs are dotting and cheerful people, always looking out for their only son in this cruel world. They are wonderful and powerful in their own ways, working the men and ladies in the sitting room of the theater with just a glance or smile of their lips. Mr. Suh smokes a cigar and smacks Jonathan on the back as they stand in the corner away from the ladies. Mrs. Suh includes me in all her conversations, never wanting me to feel lost or dissuaded from a million questions by another matriarch of a well-to-do family.

I can see why Jonathan doesn’t want to disappoint them or the good people of his clan’s name before or after himself.

The room is hazy from the smoky cigars that the men all drag on in between their elaborate conversations about President Coolidge and his beliefs while the women discuss lighter subjects such as traveling to Paris and Morocco as well as tennis. I find my thoughts up in the cloud of smoke that hangs in the room.

“Pardon me, ladies,” Jonathan places a hand gently upon my shoulder, “may I steal Y/N away for a few moments?”

“The concert will begin shortly, Johnny.” Mrs. Suh smiles, casting her charms to her son who smiles with reassurance to his dear mother.

“Don’t fret, mother,” Jonathan grins as she calls him his nickname, “I want to show her off to my college chums.”

Her eyes twinkle in delightful mischief as she swirls her glass of sweet liquor in her hand. “Just be sure to return her in one piece. Y/N has a long day ahead of her tomorrow.”

More wedding planning I’m not privy to I suppose? Such is my life now. High society is fun and all but the pressure is unlike anything I’ve ever felt before… No, my brain is captivated once more by the dark aura of the man from my dream, looming and lingering above me, teeth glimmering in the lim electric light of the room from my lucid dream. That was true, pure evil pressure I wish to never partake in the feeling of ever again.

Jonathan says nothing as he turns from her, ushering me away with his hand placed gently on my shoulder. We move silently and quickly through groups who mingle and giggle, alcohol strong in their glasses and upon their breath as we pass through the crowd of rich socialites.

We stop at one group of gentlemen, but I am only introduced to one handsome man named Jung Jaehyun who fondly shakes Jonathan’s hand and winks at me. What an odd fellow, I tell myself as we dive deeper and deeper into the crowd of people loitering in the fancy sitting room.

“I’m glad you wore the one I picked out.” Jonathan says so low that I may only be able to hear his words. Well, that answers that question then. “These men might eat you alive, so stay as sharp as a blade but soft as a lamb, understand me? They will not leave me be until I introduce you to them.”

“Are they your friends?” I query with a whisper as he pulls me to the edge of the room where young men have beautiful young ladies draped on their elbows.

I have never seen a lady look like they do, but I suppose it is fashionable and “kept up with the times”. I am not so appealing as these ladies are with their skin on display and their heels high, they attract my attention before the men who hold them up do. Their makeup is dark, yet shimmering in the soft glow from the electric lights from above. The fair ladies’ hair is cut so short, their sideways hats and feather headbands merely slip off their sleek and shiny hairstyles. I am in awe of the way they look and envy them for behaving and chatting so freely.

“Do not be scared, but they are budding gangsters who run speakeasies.” My eyes widen with his words, but I do what I am told. “Please do me another favor, Y/N, and become the most desirable woman here.” Jonathan whispers to me before we approach the hoard of people in front of me. “I will set you free from this cage as soon as I can.”

I can only nod as my demeanor switches like that of a light switch.

Walking up to these men and women I’ve never met, I invoke the acting spirit of Jane West for Jonathan. I demand my attention. I am the most beautiful creature in this sitting room, if not all of the world. I did not go to college but I am going to show you how well read and cultured I am. I am going to be a Suh and I command you all to bow down to me in this instant.

“Suh!” A tall man with coiffed, sandy blonde locks beams as he steps away from his fair darling on his arm tonight. “You dog! I didn’t think you’d grace us with your presence this evening!” They shake hands and laugh at nothing vigorously as I look between the two before the blonde catches my eye. They are pretty amber eyes that remain half-lidded and surely dazzle in the glow from chandeliers above. He’s not as tall as Jonathan, but he is handsome. “This must be-”

“Y/N Y/L/N.”

A voice from behind the blonde says clearly, setting to be free from the shadow of Jonathan’s friend.

It’s the white rabbit! I think as I try to hold myself together. He looks rather dapper in a white and gold waistcoat with tails, a top hat making him appear to be as formal as one can be. This is the gentleman I bumped into the streets, but I cannot press out of my head. I want to tell him to stay out of my dreams, but I fear he will think me mad if I declare such a bold thing without expressing my thoughts further.

“You know of my future bride, Jeon?” I feel the grip upon my shoulder tighten and breath being held from above me. Don’t fret, Jonathan, I would never tell anyone. I promise. Your secret is safe with me.

The friend with his hair as white as the fallen snow looks at me passively, eyes rimmed red like he can’t sleep a wink either. “I met her on the sidewalk, John, but we’ve never been properly introduced.” He bows and takes my blue-colored gloved hand in his white ones. He kisses the top of my hand and in this ball gown-like dress I am indeed fulfilling my fantasy of pretending to be a beautiful princess. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, future Mrs. Jonathan Suh.”

“Y/N,” Jonathan says, exhaling the concerned breath he’s been holding in, his grip returning to normal as well. “These are my friends from college: Mr. Kim Namjoon, whose family owns one third of the city like mine does, and Mr. Jeon Jungkook, who makes up the triangle of the most powerful families of Chicago.”

“At your service.” Jungkook says with a cheeky grin stretching across his face, kissing the top of my hand once more.

The way he looks up at me makes butterflies trapped in my body flutter and flounce about. But I cannot swoon or succumb to a young man so openly. Jonathan is counting on me.

“I’m delighted to meet Jonathan’s friends from his schooling.” I say in the same charming manner Mrs. Suh has produced all week.

“Forgive me for this is a bold question, future Mrs. Suh, but, will you be getting a gown made?” Namjoon asks me as he sips his scotch on the rocks.

“I think tomorrow I am going for a fitting, yes.” I nod my head, smiling just the right amount.

“Then it should be crafted by the finest in the Windy City, Kim’s Couture on the corner of Washington and LaSalle Street. Have you heard of the establishment before?” Namjoon queries.

“Indeed! I have!” I exclaim happily, my eyes wide as his stay half-lidded as though he is sleepy, though he smiles earnestly.

“Then I must insist you have a treasured wedding gown made by my seamstresses.” He hands me a white business card with only his name upon it. I stare at it until he taps it twice. “They will take excellent care of you, I promise.”

“Oh-ho!” A soft, almost melliferous voice rings out behind me. No... “This must be the infamous bride-to-be!” I know this voice! Fear rattles through me, making me tremble as I look over the shoulder Jonathan is not draped over to look at the mysterious voice. Time is slow as molasses as I face the man from my dream, clad all in a green waistcoat, vest, and top hat, wolfishly grinning at me.

“Ah, this is my eldest brother,” Namjoon muses as the electric lights flash, indicating the performance will begin soon, “Seokjin Kim.”

Kim Seokjin...

I feel like I know everything about this man yet nothing at all. He is the type of man who is a brilliant summer on the outside and stormy winter on the inside. The smile on his lips - that is the color of the inside of a cherry tart - is warm, yet cold all in the same breath. He appears to be a powerful man of high class, wrapped in an enigma of grace and power. But there is a scent of something malicious in the air as he closes the gap between us and gets down on his knee to kiss upon my hand.

I’m not sure what made me do it, but something comes over me, the flight or fight instinct animals possess lurches out of me in this moment.

“Why is a raven like a writing desk?” I ask, pulling my arm away from him.

Seokjin’s bright amber eyes slowly travel up my ball gown, disbelief and confusion colors his good looking features.

Mouths open in shock and my heart drops, but I feign a lie, turning out of Jonathan grasp, and quickly say, “Forgive me, for I feel faint.” I run to the bathroom in the hall as everyone piles into the main room of the Sunset Cafe, heart pounding in my chest and cheeks on fire.

I’m so sorry Jonathan, I did not mean to make a fool out of you. There is just something about the way Seokjin’s gaze is so feral that chills me to the bone.

A hand rests upon Jungkook’s shoulder while he continues to longingly gaze at the door as if he was willing me to come back with his mind. “Don’t worry, Jeon.” Seokjin purrs in his ear, amber gleam set upon the door. “She is the one who chases you every night, not the other way around.”

“I know, hyung.” Jungkook whispers as the brass begins to trumpet through the building. “When do we make our move?”

“Soon.” Seokjin chuckles darkly, guiding the younger of the boys to follow behind him. “Very soon we will have our glorious tea party.”

The subject of marriage has always been an odd one to me, I think to myself as maids and fashion consultants from the Kim’s dress boutique flutter and coo around me.

My parents married but it was never for love. I knew that, my siblings and myself knew that, yet they both loved us all the same. My mother and father married as more of a “good match on paper” sort of situation, than they were truly, madly in love. Still, they never fought, my father never hit my mother, never drank himself silly, never talked to another woman. My mother upheld the same standard and raised us all with love in her hardworking heart. I knew she was aware that I haven’t spoken to Jonathan since we were young children and that I would soon be in the same boat if I accepted his offer.

“A lifetime of money doesn’t equal happiness.” She told me. “You should marry for love, not for any green or gold.”

I agree. I know this full well. I’m not one to be stingy or greedy by any means. I don’t want to be an actress in a picture show or model for a beautiful Channel garment. And though I do want love in my life, I want a secure future. I am the middle child of middle-class farmers. The best match I could have made besides this one was with a cattle farmer or a man who works in the stockyards on the south side of Chicago.

It’s selfish for me to do this not only for myself but to my mother as well.

But, I am here and like my family, I will be fiercely loyal to the man I will call my husband. If not, call me a bold-faced liar and take me and my words to the grave.

Jonathan Suh is not a bad man for who he prefers in the sheets. I know that and have never felt such a way to treat someone less of me if they do prefer the company of one sex over another. I will not break the promise I’ve made to him, but I cannot help but feel like a songbird trapped in a tight, metal cage for the decision I’ve made to help him.

Due to the poor weather Chicago has currently come down with, the wedding has been postponed until further notice.

When I wired my family to tell them the news, my mother answered. I was a bit more than surprised that she almost sounded relieved when I told her the news. I promised I would wire soon and my younger sisters begged me to take them to the city to go shopping at Marshall Fields. My father sounded passive at first when the telephone wire was transferred to him by my youngest brother after he told me the family cat, Cheshire, had gone missing.

Truth be told, I am also more than happy to exhale a breath and not worry about someone questioning me about my upbringing. Or having Mrs. Suh and the don of high-class ladies and waist-coated men galloping around every breath I take.

I can finally relax, I think as I pull out a book in the study as Jonathan reads the Chicago Tribune on the couch across the way from me. We get along well, I realize. Silence suits us both. No tricks, not faking our way through hordes of important people. We have to conserve and save our energy for when we face the people mercilessly wanting to know everything and anything about us, good ole’ Jonathan and I...

No, not Jonathan anymore… I am to be his wife, and he...my…

I peer at him from over my book on flowers, losing interest in the pages.

Can I really pretend we are to be an item forever? Will one of us crack or slip up? It seems like we are stuck in a circle now, both of us floating in a pool of choices we will surely drown in.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Someone knocks at the door, plucking me from my fever of thoughts. I fully peer over the pages in my hands, pretending like I was in fact engrossed in the origin story of an author I enjoyed as a girl.

“Enter.” Jonathan says without skipping a beat, not looking up from his black and white ink. His eyes scan the pages, following the drumming beat of the grandfather clock next to the roaring fireplace. But, now that I study him closer, I’m unsure if he was actually reading or just musing to himself like I was moments ago.

“The post, sir.” Butler James reports as he opens the door, my handmaiden Emily gliding up to us with a silver plate in her hands.

“Thank you, Emily.” Jonathan gives her a half-smile as he takes the single envelope off the tray, slicing it open with trepidation.

I look at the blood-red colored wax seal as he flips the paper, revealing a knight chess piece glaring upside down at me.

Jonathan scans the letter passively at first, his orbs lazily scanning the pages, then suddenly his eyes ignite with rage behind them. “No.” He says softly, red flushing to his handsome face. He rips the paper up into shreds then, aggression and hatred oozing from every pore for some unknown reason. He gets up as he throws the scraps in the fire with vigor as butler James, Emily, and I all stare at him like he’s grown a second head. “Don’t you dare go.” He warns me, irises blaring with unmeasurable loathing. “Those people are dangerous.” Jonathan practically snarls as he exits the room in a fit of rage, stomping down the hall as we look on stunned and slack-jawed at what had just happened.

From what I can tell, Jonathan isn’t one to get upset easily or lash out so that letter must have set him off. But what could it have been?

It really has sparked my curiosity, that’s for certain.

Where wasn’t I supposed to go and who was so dangerous?

I got the answer the next day as I read a book about traveling the jungles of South America.

“Miss!” My handmaiden whispers like a hiss as she enters the study. “Miss!”

“Yes, Emily?” I smile, putting my book down as she flutters to my side in a nervous frenzy. “What is the matter?”

“I snagged this from the post, miss.” She hands you the letter you saw the previous day with Jonathan, the one that he got enraged over. “Please open it quickly, miss, before the butler spots it! They want us to destroy anything with this seal on it!”

I do as I am told, opening up the letter addressed to both Jonathan and myself with the odd wax seal to find an invitation inside.

You Are Cordially Invited To Participate In:

THE WONDERLAND BALL

A Masquerade Party To Determine The Next “Alice”

For Directions Follow Us Down The Rabbit Hole

Knock Thrice For The Door Mouse To Let You Inside

Cheers,

The ‘Mad Hatter’ & Company

“How curious...” I muse as my eyes trail over the letter over and over, wondering what has Jonathan all in a panicked rage. “Well, I don’t even know where “The Rabbit Hole” is so I shan’t be going.”

“Tis’ a speakeasy, Miss.” Emily says her eyes wide as she reads the paper with you. “They say it’s the most fun one in all of downtown!” She giggles. “Shall I fetch you a gown for the ball?”

“No.” I shake my head with a small smile, hanging her back the letter. “If Jonathan said he doesn’t want me to go, I won’t.” I pick up my book as she slightly deflates, wanting to paint me up for the festivities I was invited to. “Please burn this now, Emily, so you don’t get in trouble.”

“Right away, Miss.” Emily bows a little before she heads out of the room, leaving me to daydream in the middle of the study in peace.

“How long must we wait?” Jungkook pesters Seokjin tirelessly who looks down from his wooden pedestal in the back room of the very peculiar club. “I am afraid a letter and her dreams are not going to cut it.” Jungkook snorts, frustration flashing in his red eyes.

“Mm, yes…” Seokjin rubs his chin with his white gloved hand, “Johnny boy has been hiding our little Alice away from our prying eyes, hasn’t he?”

“Yes!” Jungkook stomps his foot like that of a child, fists balled into tight fists at his sides. “And I was promised a maiden for all the hard work I’ve done for you!”

Seokjin laughs darkly then, the sound echoing off the walls of his private chambers. “Jungkook, I’m not sure if you understand that poisoning people and taking out a few smaller families in our beloved city is considered hard work.” He stops then, Seokjin’s usually light voice dripping with malice when he says, “But, I suppose this is one way to end the Suhs and get the last jewel on the crown you are desiring in your attempts to rule the city.”

“Is everything in place for the ball?” Jungkook grits his teeth as he stares up into the man who could end him in one go, but is choosing to help the young gangster. “Your magic won’t fail us now?”

Seokjin winks at him, spending him a flying kiss as he says, “It's going to be dreadfully delightful.” Ending the Suhs, managing to take out some more people in big crime families in Chicago, and adding one more perfect woman to his growing collection of pawns.

Sure, he was mad and about to destroy several lives in the process, but hell if he wasn’t half brilliant and good looking while doing so.

“Mr. Jeon!” I gasp as I peer at the man at my penthouse doorstep, covered in white flakes of heavy, wet snow sticking to his black trench coat and bowler hat. Everyone, even most of the maids were out this afternoon which is why I find myself in front of the door to the penthouse.

“Good evening, Y/L/N.” Jeon Jungkook smiles as he looks down at me earnestly. “Is your future husband not at home?” He whispers as he looks around the empty foyer, red-rimmed eyes glancing over the dim electric lights in the hallway.

I flush. My mind was hazy remembering my kiss with him and the other man that is never far away, Kim Seokjin, from the depths of my dreams. My dreams need to leave me be or I may turn into a codfish with the way they keep my head spinning. They haunt me so, the way my brain demands my nightmares to be replayed over and over like this.

“I’m afraid not, he said he’d be out for the night, taking care of something important at the office.” I say with a fake sigh, shaking my head. Truthfully, he’s been acting very strange lately and I can't quite put my finger on the reason for his odd behavior. Ever since he got that letter… Come to think of it, I haven’t seen any post since that strange night. I’ll ask Emily about it in the morning.

“I see.” Jungkook says softly. The grandfather clock chimes from the sitting room and I am suddenly aware of what time it is. I’m severely underdressed in my baby blue lounge attire, completely ill-prepared for meeting company. Books about faraway lands with princes and kings were the only thing occupying my time this evening and I’m embarrassed to even think that. “In that case, your outfit will just have to do, I suppose…”

Jungkook suddenly steps closer to me in one long stride, closing the gap between me and him. My heart skips a beat, his pupils dilate, my words run dry as he snakes one arm around my back, the other holding my chin with his thumb and forefinger.

“Mr. Jeon-” I stammer, unable to call for help, now that this man has me in his grasp.

“I have been willing you to come and follow me, to give into your darkest desires, but still you resist me.” The young man hisses down at me, brows knit with confusion. “You are the only thing anyone talks about and I cannot stand it any longer.” My mouth hangs open. His nostrils flare as he makes his move. “You will be mine. Not locked away in this tower while Johnny is out and about with another man. You will be our new Alice.”

Before I can say anything, he pours a vile from his pocket into my mouth, holding it above my arms so I can’t smack it away. It tastes like roast turkey and strong alcohol and I try to claw and get away but I cannot as Jungkook holds my mouth open; my tongue feels numb and my arms feel like jelly, going limp in Jungkook’s arms. The only thing I can remember before completely blacking out is the little tag on the side of the bottle that says “DRINK ME”, tied with a pink ribbon hanging from the tiny glass and the smell of his cologne which reminds me of musk with a dash of black pepper.

Faint sounds of brass and strings pull me from my unconscious state in a flurry.

My brain is working hard, producing series and strings of thoughts. Why did Mr. Jeon Jungkook do that to me? Does Jonathan know where I am? In the same breath, where am I? What was that drink? Have I been poisoned? I look at myself on the red heart-patterned bedsheets. I look fine. There is no sign or feelings that I’ve been harmed, no bruises, and most importantly of all, there is no blood. There is no indicator at all that I’ve been harmed at all, which makes me sigh in relief.

But still, where have I been taken? This surely is not a room in the Suh residence.

A room with no windows, a giant bed in the middle of the room, large wooden pedestals with various wax candles lit drip down the sides surround me, red velvet curtains drape the walls making the warm room seem even more dim, and a wooden swing all decorate the space I find myself trapped in.

I can feel the color drain from my face when I realize that I’ve been here before. In fact, I’ve been here many, many times - almost every night. Not in the flesh but in my dreams. The only thing that is missing are the two men I see every night…

All the little hairs on my body stand at alert, worry coloring my thoughts, and I feign a small gasp in the large room.

With a lump in my throat and my heart thumping so hard I fear it might try to escape my chest, I run from the room.

My blue nightgown flutters behind me, time seems to slow as my bare feet carry me through the rooms from my dreams - though it’s backwards this time. I dash like a mad person, twirling and twisting my way through the room with mirrors on every side, seeing myself panting like a dog running so hard in the reflective glass. Though, I am happy to see I have no scratches upon my face either. I run through the room with clocks hanging all over the walls chiming and ticking at different times, springing through the belly of a giant, tall grandfather clock. I trip over the hems of my dress in the room with a long table in the middle which appears to stretch on for miles in this long room. There are various tea sets, cups, and pots along with tea cakes and sweet treats placed in a perfectly chaotic mess on the table as the eyes of various animal heads stare at me from their places hanging on the walls.

As I shimmy through the small door leading to the room with the walls full of water and sea creatures from the ocean, I pause my panting and sputtering as I spot Mr. Jung Jaehyun with his back pressed up against the glass. He is moaning, panting himself, a masquerade mask dangling in his hand, legs wrapped around the waist of a tall man in a vest who is rolling his hips sensually into his. My eyes widen as I figure out what the two of them are doing quickly and avert my attention. My thighs rub together, a strange fire grows in my lower abdomen, and I know I shouldn’t be looking but there is nothing but pure bliss on Mr. Jung’s face.

I can’t stop, I remind myself as my feet continue to carry me through the rooms I know so well.

Slinking away across a far wall full of lobsters without being caught, I hear Mr. Jung Jaehyun mewl one singular name, “Johnny!” I want to turn around, catch my “future” husband's side profile as he makes love to another man, confirm it’s him, but my mind flashes back to meeting Jaehyun for the first (and only) time and how they touched each other so fondly. Jungkook’s words ring in my words as I hear laughing coming from beyond the rooms filled with tanks and gilled beasts.

Keep going. I can make it out of this place from my nightmares.

The next room is filled with more people, though it’s hazy at best in here. There are giant hookah pipes in the middle of floor cushions, people with and without masks on touching each other so unabashedly, some naked, half-nude, or still in their ball gowns all laying over each other in a pleasure-filled party I was slightly jealous I haven’t been invited to.

“Ms. Y/L/N?” A deep yet clear baritone purrs over the sounds of jazz music and groans of love-making. I turn my head to his voice, feet skidding to a halt as I look at Mr. Kim Namjoon in his half-naked glory, navy blue silk robe hanging off his shoulders exposing a lovely chest, half-lidded eyes tracing my form like I am a piece of delicate meat he wishes to indulge in. “What are you doing without your mask?” He snaps his fingers, chuckling lightly as he takes another drag of his long silver pipe. “Twins, get her a mask!”

“Where am I?” I query as I feel the presence of two figures slowly approaching me out of the dim haze. “Who are you people?” It feels wrong to be here, to witness this. It doesn’t feel right. I feel out of place and my body is begging me to run and my legs tremble like a fawn.

His brows furrow as he takes the tube out of his mouth, blowing smoke rings in my face. “Who are you to question me, Y/N?” He snickers as the “twins” catch my arms, placing a mask over my face as I struggle. “You are but another “Alice” to me. Take her to the ball, you two. The rabbit and the hatter are dying to see her, I’m sure.” They tie the mask around me successfully, leading me out of this room into the next one which I know is the one where the floor is a giant chess board.

“Please,” I plead with the good looking twins who march on like the loyal soldiers to this strange cause, “what is all this?” The music and the chatter and maniacal laughing is growing louder as we prance down the hallway with portraits of people who are dressed in all white and all red. “I just want to know…”

“Suppose we ought to tell her?” The taller of the two says after a moment of silence between the three of us.

“Suppose we ought not to.” The shorter one shakes his head as he carries on in the quest to take me somewhere. “Boss will be mad.”

“You are to be the belle of the ball.” The taller one says with a viscous boxy grin.

“The new “Alice”.” The short one with fluffy lips nods this time.

“Everyone keeps saying that, but I don’t know what it means?” I say as I hold my breath, about to waltz into the strange chess-board-like room.

“The most beautiful, wonderful, talented, special, magical-” The taller twin rambles on.

“The most perfect woman at The Wonderland Ball is called “Alice” until the next one.” The shorter one states softly as he inhales a giant breath. They both let me go, pushing me forward as the drapery of the simple heart-patterned curtain gives way and I am standing at the top of a grand staircase while hundreds of people from below all gasp and stare up at me.

As soon as I regain my footing a spotlight hits me and causes me to shield me eyes away from the bright light bearing down upon me. The upbeat music falls silent and I am acutely aware that I am standing here in my loungewear and not properly dressed to be at the forefront of attention this evening.

“And now the moment you’ve all been waiting for!” The voice that makes my hair stand up on end purrs as his lush lips soothe the microphone on the little stage they’ve set up for the jazz band to play on. Kim Seokjin, my eyes lock with his which dance with mischief, his smile greedy, dressed to the nines in a rich green suit. “The crowning of the belle of the ball, the apple of all our eyes, the one that shines brighter than anyone in the picture shows, Ms. Y/N Y/L/N!”

A roar of cheering, clapping, and brass music erupts as a white haired-man with a stretched, gummy smile that doesn’t fade takes my hand and leads me down the black and white staircase. The noises seemingly die in my ears as the man on my arm says nothing, grins like a cat about to catch a mouse in its claws. Time slows, people moving and waving at me become a blur as I see who is waiting at the bottom of the staircase.

Mr. Jeon Jungkook.

The man on my arm notices how tense I am and he ever so slightly turns his head and says to me in a deep voice, “They are not going to harm you. Jungkook is infatuated with you.” My cheeks heat up. “Seokjin is helping him accomplish his dreams because he signed his life away to the servitude of others for as long as he shall live.”

“Signed his life away?” I breathe, eyes never leaving Jungkook in a white waistcoat.

“You can’t get something for free in this world.” The cat-like man growls as we are almost there. “You’ve heard of an eye for an eye, correct?” I node slightly. “A soul of servitude so he can produce strange magic, according to him and the Red Witch of Underland.”

My heart nearly stops realizing what has happened. “The devil?”

“Bingo, babe.” The cat-man chuckles a deep rasp, sliding his arm away from mine. “Have fun.”

“Now you kids have fun chasing rabbits!” Seokjin’s voice crackles through the microphone. “Everyone, enjoy the last few hours of the wonderland ball!” More hooting and hollering echoes in the building as I am exchanged into Jungkook’s strong arms.

“I thought you’d never make it.” He smiles from under his white mask at me. He takes my hand and leads me to be embraced on the dance floor. Seokjin smirks at us as he begins to sing a popular pop song everyone swoons at.

“Would you like to tell me what this is all about?” I query with a sneer on my lips. “Why am I here? Why have you poisoned me?”

“I have not nor would I ever harm you.” Jungkook grips my waist tighter. “I merely gave you a strong sedative so that I could bring you to our wonderful palace.”

“Why?” I question as he twirls me around his outstretched arm.

“Because from the moment I bumped into you, you have been the only thing consuming my mind.” He earnestly tells me, sorrow coating his eyes. “I’m not sure what trap Johnny has ensnared or tricked you in but I very much hate seeing him lock you away from the world.”

“You’re wrong.” I state angrily, glaring at him.

“He doesn’t care about you. He likes to frolic about with diplomats’ sons, not farmers’ daughters.” Jungkook smiles at me.

“That’s not true…” I mumble, my eyes looking away from his red-rimmed ones boring down upon me. “I-I am marrying Jonathan for my own personal reasons.”

“Oh, ho?” Jungkook softly chuckles, leaning over, turning my gaze back to him as he gently caresses my cheek. “Do you really believe that, darling?”

“I do...I do! I-I came here willingly.” I tremble, my facade I’ve been trying to convince myself of this whole time crackling under the pressure of his words. “I l-love…” My words linger as I look beyond Jungkook, looking up to see, “...Jonathan…” walking toward myself in the middle of the dance floor.

“Jeon!” Jonathan says, Mr. Jung Jaehyun trailing behind him, eyes wide and scared when they find mine. The male in the waistcoat holding me turns his head to the noise, the brass music climaxing, the gasps of people Jonathan is stepping between couples dancing in the soft electric light from above - I feel like my heart is going to burst. My future husband pulls his arm back, fists clenched, ready to hurt Jungkook, and with an exhale I close my eyes fearing the worst was about to ensue.

The electric lights in the strange ballroom give out in the same second.

People scream all around me, a loud thud is heard and I feel like something unexpected is about to occur, the atmosphere heavy and full of invisible pressure.

“Release the jabberwocky!” A voice echoes as chaos ensues.

“Come with me.” A voice purrs, ripping me away from Jungkook’s arms. I feel almost empty as shouting and yelling break out in the middle of the dance floor. “I will protect you, Y/N, my crown jewel.” My stomach pits hearing him say my name, tickling my ear like the serpent that led Eve to eat the apple of her demise.

Kim Seokjin.

With a snap of his fingers, we are back in the room I started out this evening in and where my dreams always have me end at. I land on the bed in a huff and he ends up sitting upon the swing, looking at me with a triumphant smirk on his luscious lips. There is a certain air about him now that doesn’t seem so threatening, so serious now for some reason. Perhaps it’s him sitting upon the swing like that of a child? I haven’t the slightest clue.

“Where am I?” I demand, glowering at Seokjin from across the way.

“Curiosity often leads to trouble, my dearest Y/N.” Seokjin chuckles darkly, eyes roaming my body, a knowing look on his features. “I think before your marriage you are looking for a little trouble, if you catch my drift.”

Trouble…

My mind completely spirals remembering the scenes of people entangled with one another, their mouths working in tandem with each other, their slippery pink tongues entwined in a passionate battle for dominance. Mr. Jung Jaehyun’s face twisted in pleasure, moaning and mewling as his lover - my future husband - was thrusting vigorously.

A lightbulb finally goes off in my head.

“You want me to give into you both then my dreams will end?” My voice shakes as I query to Seokjin who continues to lightly push back and forth on the swing. “Then you will let me leave?”

His eyes flicker with a hungry vigor to them, gleaming in the dim candlelight. “Precisely.” His soft voice cuts the atmosphere like a sharp blade, leaving me with a chill radiating down my spine. “Let’s have some fun, “Alice”.”

“As long as you promise I am to be set free from all of...this.” I gesture around the room as he makes a come hither motion with his fingers at me.

“You have my word.”

Somehow, I don’t believe him, but I am desperate for any way out of this wretched place I can find.

So, I will use the body I was blessed with to the fullest extent.

I am a loyal woman. I step toward the man on the swing, my hands coming up to the ties around my chest and my waist. His eyes spark with a ravenous hunger in the depths of his orbs. I know that I am not doing a decent thing. Seokjin snaps his fingers again, all his clothes disappearing but his green top hat, vanishing before my very eyes. I know I am more than what I am succumbing to right now. But my stomach does feel hot and my thighs rubbing together is making me feel faint for some reason. My garments fall to the floor in a soft patting sound and I lose my breath in the same moment.

Don’t tell me I actually want this…?

I stand in front of him on the swing and I can’t help but bite my lip as my eyes roam his pale figure, tracing down his collarbones to his sculpted abdominal muscles he has been hiding. Did he sell his soul to the devil to become handsome too I wonder?

“So beautiful.” He revels looking at me unabashed, a wolfish grin spreading across his pretty face. Part of me wants him to touch me, to caress the underside of my breast, to trace the outline of my hips with his fingertips, but he doesn not.

I have to remind myself this isn’t for me. This is for the man that has been tormenting me.

“Get me ready for you.” Seokjin commands, smirk still spread across his face. I comply, dropping to my knees to be faced with a large member swinging forth from the middle of his legs on the swing. “And you will address me as “Sir”, understand?”

“Yes, sir.” I respond, biting my lip as I look from his eyes to his member once more.

“Suck.” He chuckles lightly, pointing to his middle and I can’t help but follow this simple instruction.

I don’t tease him, though I’m not really sure I know what I am doing in the first place. I swirl the flat of my tongue over his mushroom-tipped head several times. He moans in response, his hands coming off the swing’s ropes to hold my hair from my face as I swallow him further down my wet cavity. My middle aches and pulses, empty, missing something as I steady myself against Seokjin’s thighs.

“Good little girl.” Seokjin hums, his sound voice making me feel appreciated. The sound vibrating through to my own middle, making me groan around him.

I bob my head up and down his long length, enjoying the way he hums and gasps in response to my efforts. It’s a little hard to breathe I think as I continue my pace, nose hitting Seokjin’s pubic bone, smelling the most intimate part of him.

My dominant hand grabs his member at the base, working him in tandem with my mouth. Up and down his thick member I go, reveling in every twitch and rumble that flies out of his throat. The swing starts to sway with my rhythmic movements, bobbing him back and forth with vigor, tears climb to my eyes. The tip of him hits the back of my mouth, making me gag and choke on his wonderful cock. The heat was pooling in the middle of my stomach and I fear I am going to lose my mind. I pick up the motions of my mouth and hand, tears skating down my pinkened cheeks, his grip tightening around the base of my skull, digging into my scalp.

It burns… But, I also enjoy it. This feeling...so wet and tight and I feel so evil and sinful but the pleasure is driving me mad.

“Baby girl.” There’s warning in his tone as I pop off his cock in an instant, looking up to him with big worried eyes. His head was leaned back, not focused on looking directly at myself, but the feeling of my lips and fingertips. “Up.” He commands once more, head twisting back to a comfortable position to stare at me.

I scramble to my feet, missing the feeling of him in my mouth already, not to mention aching for him in the middle of my legs. I rub my thighs together for some easy friction, knowing that it won’t help me much at this point.

Seokjin moves his hand to stroke against his giant member in his palm and I lock my orbs in place on the slit of his cock where a clear liquid was oozing out. My mind is truly hazy at best, as I just stand there and watch him stroke himself up and down in a lazy fashion. I bite my lip once more.

I do want this. I am almost ashamed to admit that I want this man.

“Are you going to be good and let me use you?” Seokjin’s dirty words make my middle pool and contort with more of a raging fire.

“Y-Yes, sir.” I say again, cheeks hot and damp from sucking his cock moments ago.

His nostrils flare, his cock twitches in his grasp as he motions to sit upon his middle. “I bet you’re so wet for me.” He chuckles, smile darkening with his words.

Seokjin eases me down on his thick member, my hole so wet, so slick, allowing him to stretch my clenching walls in an easy motion. I gasp, eyes popping out of my head. My nails dig into his shoulder blades, back arching with his giant, twitching dick tight inside of me. I wrap my legs around his lean waist, his pale skin flexing in the candlelight with his movements as he stills, letting my hips sink down into the base of his cock.

“Baby girl.” Seokjin purrs, breath tickling my ear as he throbs inside of me. “I need you.” He growls, littering the crook of my neck with sloppy kisses. He positions us just so on the swing, readying us to begin when he deems necessary.

“P-Please use me, s-sir-r!” I mumble in the base of his neck, feeling high on this pleasure-filled pain.

“I live to serve.”

I gasp as he starts moving his hips inside of my center, bucking up into my body with a fevered pace instantly. The swing moves back and forth and I feel like the motion is going to make me feel his body sliding in and out of me too well. I cling to him for dear life, my grip surely bruising him or harming him in some way as he slides in and out of my slicked out center at a brutal rhythm.

Tears find my eyes again as he nips at my neck, marking me up with tender love bites. I’m a howling, moaning mess, losing my sanity. I am finally full of Seokjin’s girth, filling me up beyond desire.

Seokjin kisses my lips then in his, melting our mouths together in a hurry. He holds my face in his palms, grunting and groaning for me, and only me. His tongue enters my mouth in search of something unknown, moaning into my lips laced together with his hot mouth connected with my pink tongue. He rolls his saliva coated tongue into mine in haste, need seeping into my senses, consuming my thoughts as he thrusts up in me, using the swing as a propellant to ease us forward and backward.

“Feels...so-o..good~!” I moan in between our passionate kisses.

Seokjin just growls like a feral animal in response. The tip of his cock kisses my cervix continuously, brushing past a spot inside of me that instantly makes me quake. He rockets himself against me, rutting his body against my core in sync with his hips slamming into mine. Seokjin expels filth from his mouth about filling me to the brim with his seed, seeing my stomach swollen and full of his children, his warm breath hitting my ear making me shudder in response.

I can’t focus, my climax getting ready to pop at any moment. Wet noises fill the dark room, as Seokjin’s rough speed of his length in and out of my molten, wet center continues. My erect nipples swirl on his pale chest, circling quickly as he bounces me up and down his giant cock, swinging through the air like some sexual trapeze artist.

“Are you going to be good to me?” He asks me, smirk present in his tone, pace almost blinding now as he pushes in and out of me with a need so heavy and strong I can practically smell it rising from his skin. “Are you going to let me fill you up, my little doll?” Seokjin snarls into my skin.

“Pleaseeeee!” I practically scream, eyes flying open as he hits my center at just the right spot that makes me see white.

“Ah-ah!” He tsks. “What do we say?”

“Please, sir!” I mewl and gasp, thighs quaking in his hold, my juices squelching out of me as he continues to thrust into my sensitive molten core. “Seokjin!” I cry while he growls into the scorching skin of my neck inhaling sharply as he slams his hips into my shivering body. “Sir!”

Seokjin grunts, cock spurting his seed into me with a need so raw, so feral he finds his footing hard to maintain on the swing, stilling us from moving about, holding my hips tightly down upon him. He sucks harshly on my skin as he too shudders and grunts, biting down on the crook of my neck, stretching my clenching walls around his member as he fills me with his hot white seed.

My cries of pleasure fill the small room, my pleasure-filled haze coming to a close as Seokjin shifts us - still joined together - to the bed in the middle of the room. I hold onto Seokjin as he keeps his seed inside of me, feeling like I just had the ride of my life on top of him. My climax dies down, my first high fading away, fog around my brain being lifted temporarily as my nails rake over shoulders I’ve definitely marked up.

A cool, damp towel appears with a wave of his arms, stroking my middle with it delicately cleaning up the mess I’ve made. “How does it feel to be connected with the devil?” Seokjin sneers as he pulls out of me, making my center ache and twitch for him.

My eyes grow wide and my lips part but before I can say anything Jungkook bursts in the room.

“Am I late?” Jungkook pants as he looks awestruck by me on the bed.

“For a very important date.” I gaze back to Seokjin who is now fully dressed, smirking that soft, playful smile like he usually does at Mr. Jeon. “Don’t worry, I was just getting her ready for you, Jungkookie.”

Jungkook eyes him with narrowed orbs, but buys the lie Seokjin is selling and proceeds to strip himself of his white waistcoat. “What is on the menu tonight?” His red-rimmed irises bore into mine and I feel self-conscious suddenly. He circles the bed in the manner like that of a wolf would as he finishes stripping himself of any dressy garments, though his slacks remain on.

“The one you most desire out of everything in this world.” Seokjin purrs, stepping up to take his seat on his pedestal high above us.

Is he going to watch us?

“Fuck,” Jungkook growls, dropping to his knees in front of the bed suddenly. He pulls me closer to him by my ankles, throwing my thighs apart so my center is exposed to him in the rawest form. He stares at my glistening middle as I try to close my legs with a little, pathetic whimper.

“Don’t.” The rabbit-like man moans wantonly, holding onto my ankles loosely. “Fuck, you’re so beautiful, you know that, right?” His hands glide up my thighs achingly slow, holding me in pace for his eyes to ravage as they please.

The fire in my lower stomach has returned, hungry and ready to go for more.

His warm fingertips make it to my inner thighs, kneading the flesh there tenderly, so close to my throbbing core that I almost beg him with a cry to dip down into me, but I refrain, hanging on to every trace or brush of his hands against my scorching flesh.

“What do you want, my darling?” He groans into my inner thigh, lips ghosting my sensitive flesh there, inching closer to my heated skin with his upper body.

“Please.” I finally ask, begging, almost choking out the word, forgetting Seokjin watching us from above.

His dominant hand finally finds my nether lips, tracing them up and down with his two longest fingers but not exactly touching me where I am aching quite yet. “Please what?” He teases, stroking me up and down slowly, holding his feral gaze in mine, amber eyes seemingly on fire.

“Please, Jungko-“

He slaps my middle with little force or malice behind it, but I jolt, mewling aloud, wanting him to secretly do it again.

Jungkook goes back to tracing my lips in the middle of my body, smug smirk seated on his devilishly handsome face. “You are so wet, darling.” He slaps me again, though this time I want it more than I’d actually care to admit.

“Jung-” I choke on my words.

He slaps me again, this time with slightly more force behind his fingertips. I hiss out a breath, staring at him with my mouth slightly ajar, brows turned up, looking down at him with half-lidded eyes already.

“I have to have a taste.” He kisses my inner thigh as he slowly traces his thumb over my slicked out folds.

I let out a wanton cry as he hums into my thighs, growling low and deep. I swear there’s a smile in his voice as he works with his mouth and fingertip in tandem. “Mine.” He breathes, sucking on the sensitive flesh of my innermost thigh, marking me with a throaty growl.

“J-Jungkook..!”

I am a mess. I let loose a series of pants, breathless moans as he works my coil in the pit of my stomach tighter with every brush or groan he grants my hot body. I am melting under Jungkook’s touch, my body feeling sticky, arousal dripping from my middle while he circles my delicate clit.

His thumb was increasing his pace of gliding over my bundle of nerves, still slow, still making my breathing become erratic, but the desire for Jungkook to do more was driving me insane. I’ve had a taste of sex and look at me wanting more. I didn’t know if I could be in the position to ask for more. But I wanted him to place those perfect, beautiful sinful lips on my molten core. Jungkook’s breath fans over my middle as he continues to stroke me down there.

I miss the twitch confined to the middle of his pants from the man watching us from above with eager need.

As if sensing my need, his tongue swipes a slow stripe through my folds, the cool of his muscle against my exposed center making me black out for a moment, the sensation far too much for me to bear with right now. His snort of laughter brings me back to reality as he swirls his pink tongue at my empty entrance.

Jungkook laps at my folds as if he is a starved man, hungry, desperate for his next meal. I keen, gripping onto the base of his golden torso as laps at me. I’d think grounding myself on top of Jungkook’s head would make me saner, gripping his strands of hair as he goes to town in my middle. But really, it makes me feel completely mad, like I’ve gone insane.

The feral, untamed animal-like noises that escape his throat drive me absolutely wild, my skin on fire with need and want. My nails cling to his scalp, dragging him closer to my middle as he ravages my core. He maneuvers his two longest fingers through the glossy slick, lubing his digits to breach my entrance.

“Jungkook!” I gasp, choking on my words as he makes a come hither motion with his fingers, splitting my velvet walls to open for him.

Jungkook swirls his tongue over my little pearl of sensitive nerves, lapping and sucking my flesh like he's never eaten a thing in his life. He continues his very audible growling and moaning, husk in his voice incredibly thick.

“Let go, baby.” He coos into my middle as I jolt and shake, his digits brushing past the most delicious spot deep inside of my clenching walls. “Give me your release.”

His words finally tip me over the edge.

I tighten my hold on him, gritting my teeth in the process. My head falls backward on the sheets, eyes screwed closed as Jungkook slurps every inch of my middle clean, not leaving anything to go to waste.

“Kookie,” I sputter out, the feeling of his tongue and fingers becoming too much for me. “I-I’m c-c-cumming-!”

As I say the last of my words, the world comes undone around me for the second time today, my tight coil finally popping. Blinding white stars coat my vision for a second, my body shivering and shaking as I drip out onto the flat of Jungkook’s tongue.

He laps up my sensitive hole up with more snarls, more feral noises escaping his body. Tears flow down my face as I unhinge my nails from his silky blonde strands, trying to push him away from my overly sensitive flesh with pathetic mewls of protest escaping my throat.

More. My brian prompts me to continue to sate my undying lust burning inside of me. I need more.

“Jungkook,” I beg while his tongue still explores my throbbing hole, giving my sensitive skin rapt attention. “Jungkookie. Please. I c-can’t.” I tug at his blinde hair gently, trying to get him to stop teasing me with his tongue.

He doesn't stop and I can only think of one thing to ask before I lose my damn mind with him between my thighs.

“Jungkook.” I shudder, high building up once more. “Please fuck me.”

Everything in the room stills, the only sound heard was our heavy breathing.

He looks up from my sensitive core, brows knit together as he looks into my eyes with such a passionate gaze of uncertainty. My juices were coating the bottom half of his face, his blonde hair is in a state of disarray, as he proceeds to slowly rise to his feet, looking over me on the bed.

“What?” He questions incredulously down at my fucked out form. Jungkook looks at me as if I am the most fragile thing in the world, as if I would burst into flames at any moment. “My darling, my love, there’s no going back if we-“

“I know.” I smirk up to the gorgeous gangster in all of the Windy City. “I want this too.”

His nostrils flare, his eyes widen, and his gaze softens. Jungkook looks down at me with something akin to lust, which makes my heart rate increase...

“Up.” He commands, raw husk pouring out of his tone as he starts to undo his pants, the zipper noise almost jarring in the quiet of the night.

I do as I’m told. I’ve fallen far down the rabbit hole now, I think as I shift on the bed. Standing was a little difficult as he’s just given me one of the best feelings I’ve ever had. I keep my eyes glued to Jungkook. His hands travel sensually down his tiny waist to his slacks he unbuttons. I am gasping, unable to take my eyes off the very beautiful sight of his thick cock bouncing, finally free from the confines of his dress pants. The tip was red and angry, a bead of precum adorning the slit of his mushroom-like head. He was long, girthy, and I want nothing more than it inside of myself at this very moment.

Jungkook grips the base of his cock with his hand while he steps out of his pants, giving his shaft a few pumps up and down while I watch with an open mouth.

“I’ve dreamt of this moment for so long.” He confesses softly, reaching for me with his free hand. I inch closer to him, gliding my hands over his defined body, admiring his lithe, yet sturdy frame. My fingers hungrily trace every ridge, every contour of his golden torso. Jungkook was so warm, so wonderful, and I am slightly kicking myself for not giving into him sooner. “To have you,” he continues, kissing up the side of my neck.

“Please.” I beg him again, eyes flickering back and forth between his.

“Turn around.” He leans in to kiss me with passionate need. His lips molding into mine as I cling to him for more. I taste my essence on his tongue which makes me whimper into his strong hold. “I’m going to fuck you now, my love.”

Again, I don’t need to be told twice as he guides me to where he wants me, bending me at the waist so my fingers dig into the unkept sheets below, my backside open and exposed to him.

“So pretty for me.” I hear the grin in his deep rumble. Jungkook slaps my bottom, granting him a hiss to escape my throat. I whine when he does it softly several more times, making my head soar.

I hear him spit before I feel the extra saliva lubricant coat my backside, the cool of his juices combined with mine was driving me up a wall.

“Jungkook!” I gasp.

He groans when I call for him, pushing his fat head of a cock at my aching, empty hole, wanting him to finally join the two of us.

“Darling,” he sounds like he’s straining to hold back. “Baby, please, fuck!” He grunts, splitting my walls inch by agonizingly slowly. I moan as he stretches me wide, entering me like he owns me.

He thrusts inside of me all the way with one snap of his hips suddenly. A cry leaves my lips along with a strangled one from the man inside of me. My eyes widen as I realize that he’s not going to go easy on me tonight, he’s going to fuck me on his terms. I was in for a wild ride this evening.

Jungkook leans the front of himself over my sticky back, pressing our heated flesh together more, growling to the outside shell of my ear, nipping the flesh under my lobe while sliding in and out of me with a brutal pace he’s set.

“Baby…” he moans in my ear, the deep purr vibrating throughout his body making my breathing hitch and sob. His hips snapping into mine with a rhythm, I swear, no human man could ever achieve. Liquid was flowing down my eyes as the push and pull of Jungkook slamming his giant cock into my velvet folds repeatedly already had me tearing the sheets in two with my nails.

“Jung! Ah! Kook!”

Seokjin glides his hand over his cock from above the bed, matching the rhythm Jungkook’s hips produce, enjoying the wonderful show.

I gasp this over and over like a prayer falling from my lips. My eyes are squeezed shut, my body hot with the raw purpose to feel Jugnkook inside of my heated center. His cock pushes in and out of me at a fevered pace, making my vision blur, seeing far too many white stars.

My brain is fuzzy as he hits the spot inside of me that blinds me, pleasure swimming in my veins. My third climax was surely on the way.

“Baby,” Jungkook grunts, one of his arms snaking up my torso, his long fingers finding one of my bouncing breasts. He starts pinching my erect nipple, holding on to me tighter as we slide back and forth off of one another.

My coil was wound so tight, I don’t know if I’d be able to last much longer. Especially not with Jungkook’s fingers attaching to my hardened nipple, his lips to the crook of my neck, and his cock slamming in and out of my clenching middle with a fevered need.

He bucks into me faster, my walls clamping down on him, my coil about to pop, about to burst forth again. I can’t hold myself up any longer, my legs shaking violently. My knuckles are turning white with how hard I am clawing at the heart patterned sheets.

“Jungkook! I-“ I mewl, but I don’t get to finish my thought.

In a split second, Jungkook pulls out of my middle, flipping me over and letting me fall onto my back so I could be face to face with him. Jungkook climbs on top of me quickly, wanting to resume his feverish pace immediately, hunger and need in his amber gaze. He settles between my legs, pushing himself back into my slicked out center easily, restarting from where he last left off.

I gasp when he enters me, clinging to his shoulders, holding him while the lewd squelching noises in the room continue to grow, faster, louder. He grips onto my hips, guiding me at a blinding speed I didn’t know he could achieve. Is he a victim of the devil as well?

Sweat was pouring off our bodies, my brain unable to produce a sane thought as he grunts and moans my name, his red orbs never leaving my face as he rockets his cock into my folds like it was his job.

It happens again, the very right feeling deep inside of my body, the one that makes me grit my teeth, that makes me see hundreds of tiny white stars.

“Jung! Kook~!” I scream into the quiet room, tears flowing from my hues as I card my fingers through his blonde strands, trying to make a purchase on his roots.

My hands travel down his backside as he snarls, “I’m going to make you my wife! Not some wannabe from the Northside!” Jungkook huffs, his movements slowing down, one of his thumbs finding my folds again, circling my aching clit in hurry - a stark contrast to earlier. “I’m going to claim you as my own.”

Seokjin smiles like he’s just won the lottery, masturbating to the sight of both his clients intertwined, fucking onto each other with unbridled lust. He comes then watching his new toy’s back arch, breasts in the air, Jungkook’s frame pounding into her with hungry trepidation.

I grab onto the ample flesh of his bottom, feeling the world come tumbling around myself once more. Letting my body shake and quake on top of the sheets, my third orgasm taking me by force. I feel complete - feel whole for some reason. I am so completely taken aback with the storm rippling through my body in pleasureful tremors, one right after the other, I cannot even begin to breathe properly.

He lets a feral snarl rip through his body as he pumps into my leaking middle a few more times, my whole being consumed by Jungkook. He leans over me, sucking my neck colors of purples and dark reds and I scream as his cock swells inside of my velvet walls, releasing his own essence into my womb, holding him there like a vice grip as he spurts his seed deep inside of me.

Once our highs come to a close, I run my fingers through his hair, his throbbing cock still joined inside of my middle. We both pant, holding the other for dear life, finally together, and fulfilled with one other. Jungkook kisses along my jaw, moaning my name, telling me what an amazing baby doll I am as his cock finally softens inside of my aching cunt.

“Bravo.” Seokjin claps as he walks down the wooden stairs. “You both did very well!” He chuckles darkly. I squeak in surprise. I forgot he was there and I scramble to cover myself with the soiled sheets.

“Okay, Kim,” Jungkook says as he kisses my nose, pulling out and picking up my clothes and handing them to me. He dresses in his undergarments and dress pants quickly, buttoning them up as he turns to the man all in green. “You had your show.” I listen as I dress myself with haste, back turned to the two men. “I’ve done everything you’ve asked: invested the money overseas, gotten rid of the competition and family in this lovely city, got you a new “Alice”, and even let you watch us play ball. I think it’s time to set us free.”

“Yes,” the mad man snickers, darkness clouding his tone, “you both have served me well. But nobody is leaving my perfectly curated speakeasy.”

I turn around and my heart is dropping to the floor. Shock is written all over Jungkook’s face as I clench my jaw in guilt.

“But, I’m afraid you both made a deal with me, and I don’t give up my new toys so easily.” Seokjin caresses Jungkook’s face in his pale hand, while holding my gaze with a sense of gentle anger. “You can’t always get what you want. But hey, look on the bright side: at least you have each other.”

---

A/N: I hope you all enjoyed this trip down the rabbit hole! Likes and reblogs are very much appreciated!

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impalas-r-important · 3 years

Text

Branch Out - Chapter 1

Summary: Y/N left everything she's ever known, and Dean just wants to be left alone. With both of them trying to heal from heartache, they might just end up finding what they need in the last place they'd ever look.

Word count: 6219

Pairing: Dean x reader (eventually, maybe?)

Warnings: I don't think there are any for this chapter, but if you think i should add one, feel free to let me know!

A/N: I started this series a long time ago and just barely had the motivation to start it up again. I really love this series, and have been enjoying writing it. Let me know if you want a tag!

My Masterlist

Branch Out Masterlist

Thank heavens for GPS, there’s no way you would have found this place without step-by-step directions. A narrow gravel driveway branched off from the worn mountain road and wound to a homely cabin. You stepped out of your old pickup truck and pulled out the key the realtor had given to you. Buying a house sight unseen wasn’t the smartest idea and you second guessed your impulse decision as you took in the dense woods that were so foreign to you. The seasoned wooden boards of the porch creaked under your feet while you made your way to the door and let yourself into your new home. Dust rested gently on every ledge and the frigid January air was lined with a twinge of must from sitting unoccupied for so long, but something felt so promising about the sturdy structure.

A modest kitchen and living room made up most of the house with a bedroom and bathroom on either side of a small hallway. A small, metal woodburning fireplace sat just next to the backdoor and you had a feeling you would end up putting that to good use if you ever figured out how to use it.

Your hand was subconsciously touching the bruise that was prominent on your forearm and when you realized, you pulled your sleeve down to cover it. The decision to leave your family and friends behind was a heart-wrenching one, but you knew you had to make a change if you wanted to heal completely. You needed to do something for yourself, and you wanted a fresh start. A small cabin in the freezing cold woods of Idaho was about as far from what you knew to be normal as you could have gotten, but a seed of hope was planted firmly in your chest.

When a job posting for the assistant city accountant had fallen in your lap a few weeks back, you applied without thinking twice. A few online interviews later, you had secured the job and things fell into place effortlessly, as if some external force was paving your path to this small town. You bought this quaint home with the help of a local realtor, packed your things, and left the only home you had ever known in Arizona, despite the protests of your family. Not knowing what your future held was scary, but something about this place felt right from the moment you pulled in.

You had brought only what you needed to in hopes of making a quick escape, meaning you had only a mattress, some clothes and a few personal belongings. After working for a few years, you had a built up a good savings account and figured it would be easier to buy furniture once you got here instead of trying to move big pieces by yourself. It didn’t take long to move your things inside, and you felt grateful that you called ahead to have the power and water turned on so you could shower once you had unpacked what you needed for your first day on the job tomorrow. Anxiety sat like a rock in your stomach, so you skipped dinner and went straight to bed, burying yourself under a mountain of blankets to shield you from the winter chill that had settled in your bones.

Your nerves woke you up well before your alarm went off, so you dragged your feet across the frozen floor and pulled your clothes on quickly before digging through your boxes for some granola bars for breakfast. You leaned against the kitchen counter and began to make a list of things you would need to buy since you were essentially starting from scratch. Double checking the email that you had received with instructions for your first day, you took a deep breath and headed out.

City hall was a historic, two-story red brick building that was shared with the fire department. It looked like something out of a storybook, but then again, this whole town did. You pushed the door open and looked around at the empty lobby, checking your watch to make sure you weren’t crazy early. Rustic chairs lined the walls by the door, and a few empty desks were placed behind the tall front counter.

“Hello?” You asked, turning your head left and right to look for any signs of life.

“Oh!” A muffled voice responded, and distant footsteps quickly scuttled your way from the back room. “You’re here!” A pretty, dark haired girl gave a few excited claps as she made her way to you. “You must be Y/N. I’m Sarah. Sarah Blake.” She eagerly pulled you into a hug which caught you by surprise and she chuckled a bit to herself before taking a step back. “Sorry, my boyfriend says that my enthusiasm scares new people away. I’ve just been so excited since I heard they hired you. I’ve been praying for someone my age to come work around here for a long time.”

“Don’t apologize, you’re the first person I’ve met in town so it’s nice to see a friendly face.” Her warm welcome calmed some of your nerves.

“That’s right, you just moved in yesterday, huh?” You tiled your head in question, wondering how she knew that. “It’s a really small town, everyone knows everything, especially when it comes to new people. You’ve been the talk of the town the past little bit.” She shrugged. “Well, I’m the marketing/PR girl here, and we all just kind of pitch in with working the front desk. Come on back, let me give you the grand tour.”

Sarah led you around the corner and stopped at the first office on your left. “This is Ellen Singer’s office. You’ll be working under her, she’s the lead accountant.” She looked at the clock on the wall. “Hmm, she should be here by now. I bet her car is giving her trouble.”

A friendly voice called out to Sarah from down the hall and she motioned for you to follow her as she stepped just inside the end office which was significantly bigger than the rest.

“Y/N, this is Garth Fitzgerald, he’s the mayor. Garth, this is Y/N.” Sarah introduced you and he stood to shake your hand.

“It’s great to meet you, Mayor Fitzgerald.”

“Please, call me Garth.” You smiled and nodded. “We’ve been excited about you around here. I think you’ll make a great addition to our community.” His phone ringing broke the conversation. “Excuse me, ladies. Oh, and welcome to Wallace, Y/N!”

“Next up is Arthur Ketch, he’s the city planner. Sometimes he can be a little abrupt, but deep down he’s a big softie. Don’t let him scare you.”

He was on the phone, so he simply waved to you two as you passed. Sarah’s attention was drawn back down the hall when two police officers walked in. “Jody, Donna!” She hollered to them.

“Heya, kiddo! Who you got with you?” The blonde officer sent a warm smile your way.

“You must be Y/N!” The other responded.

“Oh, that’s right! I heard you were coming to town. I’m Donna and this is Sheriff Jody Mills. It’s so great to meet you.” She pulled you in for your second hug of the day.

“Everyone here is seriously so nice. I don’t know why I didn’t move here years ago!” You joked.

“Well listen, if you need anything, you can always come to me, okay?” Jody put her hand on your shoulder. “We’re all so excited to have a new face around.”

“Thank you. You’re all making this transition so much easier than I thought it would be.”

Sarah waved to the officers as they left and pulled gently on your arm. “Come on, let’s chat while we wait for Ellen.” She took a seat at one of the desks in the front and you sat across from her.

“Thanks for showing me around, it’s nice to know that I have a friend at work already.” Sarah’s eyes lit up when you called her your friend.

“Are you kidding me? I’ve been dying for you to get here. I knew we’d get along.” She folded her arms and sat back in her chair proudly. “So, where did you move from?”

“Phoenix, Arizona.”

“And you moved to Idaho in the middle of January? Are you crazy? I would give anything to go lay out in the sun for an afternoon.”

“Yeah, I might be!” You laughed. “I guess I just needed a change, you know? It was just time to move onto the next chapter of my life.”

“I get that. I grew up here and couldn’t wait to leave for college, but as soon as I was gone, I missed this place.”

“I can see what you’re talking about. It has a good feeling to it here.”

“So, now to the juicy stuff.” Sarah leaned forward. “Are you dating anyone? Because there’s a whole pool of eligible bachelors I could set you up with here.”

“No, actually I just got out of something kind of messy, so I don’t think I’m really looking for anything at the moment.”

A sympathetic look was sent you way. “I’m sorry to hear that. But if you ever feel ready, you let me know, okay?”

“You will be the first. What about you? I heard you mention you have a boyfriend. Tell me all about him.”

A smile spread across Sarah’s face and she pulled out her phone to show you a picture. “This is Sam, we’ve been together since high school.”

She handed you her phone and you looked at the tall, handsome guy whose arms were wrapped around her. “He’s cute, nice work!” She beamed as you handed her phone back. The expression on her face was clearly one of adoration as she looked at the picture.

“We actually broke up before we went to college. He went to Stanford and I went to the University of Oregon and we figured it would be easier to break it off on good terms rather than fade away in a long-distance relationship. That lasted about two weeks and we’ve been together ever since.”

“Do you think you’ll marry him? You guys are so stinking cute together.” You weren’t sure if you had ever seen a better fitting couple.

“I overheard Sam talking to his older brother about buying a ring. I don’t think he knew that I was just in the other room, but I’ll let him try to surprise me.” Sarah giggled. Your conversation was interrupted by someone walking in the back door.

“Hey, Ellen.” Sarah greeted. “Your reinforcement has arrived.”

Ellen looked at you with relief in her eyes. “Oh, honey, you have no idea how happy I am to see you. Come on back here and we’ll get started.”

“Have fun!” Sarah left you to meet your new boss as she went up to help someone at the front desk.

“Y/N, you’ll have to forgive me for being so late. My stupid car has been giving me hell the past few weeks. You’d think with my husband owning the only mechanic’s shop in town, I’d have a reliable vehicle, but here we are.”

“No worries. It gave me a chance to meet some people around the building. I’m excited to get started though.” You sat in the chair across from her desk and she plopped down with a sigh as well.

“I’ve been begging Garth for two years for some help, so you are a light at the end of my tunnel. I’m hoping to retire in a few years and hand you the reigns, so let’s get to it, shall we?”

The next few hours were spent introducing you to all of the systems and procedures. After receiving a call from her daughter, Ellen decided to call it a day just after three in the afternoon and the two of you agreed to hit it hard tomorrow. You gathered your things and returned to the front area where Sarah was scrolling through her phone. She looked up when you entered the room.

“Hey! How are things going?”

“Ellen has to take off, so we’re going to call it a day and just work a little longer tomorrow.” You sat at the desk adjoining Sarah’s and set your things down.

“Take any desk. It’s just you and me out here. Charlie is the county IT girl and works out here sometimes, but she hops from building to building.”

“Well, I suppose this one is as good as any.” You unpacked a picture frame and a few supplies at the desk across from Sarah’s. “Hey, are there any places to buy furniture around here? I only moved with the bare essentials so I’m in desperate need of a few things.”

“So, what you’re saying is you need to go on a shopping spree? I’m in! I’ll drive.” Sarah grabbed her purse and coat and led you out the door.

She took you on a short tour of the staples around town before arriving at the only big box store nearby. You browsed up and down the aisles, pulling all the necessities off the shelf and tossing them in the cart. You’d have to order some of the bigger furniture pieces online since it was a small place, and they didn’t have anything like here.

Sarah had a basket and was creating a good-sized stockpile of her own. “Sam has been trying to put me on a budget for a while now, so I’ll have to hide this stuff before he sees.” A guilty smile pulled on the corners of her mouth.

“Just tell him you were shopping with an accountant and I approved all your purchases.”

“Hah! We’re going to be good friends.” She picked up a candle, smelled it, and placed it in her basket.

“Where does Sam work?” You asked as you looked through the bathroom towels.

“He’s the lawyer for Winchester Lumber, the sawmill in town. A lot of people work there actually, it’s kind of the main business that brings people in. Sam’s great grandpa started it and it’s stayed in the family. Sam’s older brother, Dean, runs the place right now, but I’m sure he’ll be more than happy to hand the throne over to their Dad when he gets back. He got cancer a few years ago and they moved to Kansas to be closer to medical treatment.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. How is he doing?”

“He’s doing really well, actually. He’s in remission and they’re hoping to move back soon.”

The rest of the afternoon was spent checking things off of your to-do list and grabbing dinner with Sarah. She dropped you off back at your truck and you thanked her for showing you around before you went your separate ways.

Back at home, it took you a few trips to unload your haul, but you were just happy to have a few more things to fill your empty home. Your first day had gone better than you could have imagined, and you were filled with confidence in your decision to uproot your life.

Sarah opened her front door and did her best to sneak her shopping bags past Sam and Dean who were sitting in the living room, sharing a pizza and some beers. She successfully stowed her treasures away in the hall closet and joined the boys.

“Hey hon!” She placed a kiss on Sam’s forehead before grabbing a slice of pizza and plopping down on the couch next to him.

“You’re in a good mood.” Sam noticed his girlfriend’s chipper energy.

“I made a new friend today.” She took a big bite and gave a smile.

“Don’t you already know everyone in town?” Dean’s voice sounded as pessimistic as usual.

“No, actually. There’s a new accountant at city hall, Y/N. She just moved in yesterday.”

“That’s great! You’ll have to invite her over sometime.” Sam placed his hand lovingly on Sarah’s knee. “Where’s she living?”

“She bought a cabin up in the mountains sight unseen, so we went shopping for some essentials. I think she might be kind of close to you, Dean.”

Dean frowned, trying to think of which cabin the new girl would have bought. He moved up there to be alone, so the thought of a neighbor was disheartening. “You mean that old shack just off of Placer Creek Road?”

“Yeah, I think that’s the one.”

“She’s got a lot of repair work to do on that place.” Dean shook his head, glad that it wasn’t him that put any kind of investment into what he was sure was a money pit.

You awoke early the next morning to find that it had snowed overnight. Growing up in Arizona, you had never really experienced snow like this before. Every breath you took felt like your lungs were filling with ice and you couldn’t help but cough, willing the warm weather to find you soon. Winter was one thing you didn’t think about when moving to a mountain town, so you wanted to give yourself plenty of time for the commute. After packing a few things for lunch, you stepped outside to find your truck buried in a mountain of frozen powder.

“Ugh!” You groaned and threw your head back, looking around for a stick to help you dig out your vehicle. You made a mental note to buy a scraper after work. Ten minutes and one soaked pair of shoes later, you had finally freed your car. You twisted the key, forcing the engine to sluggishly turned over, then blasted the heat on high while you ran inside to change into dry shoes and socks before taking off down the road.

The feeling of your back wheels slipping around on the frozen dirt road was so foreign to you, and you weren’t a fan. About two miles away from the main road, your engine began to sputter as it struggled to trudge ahead through the wet snow.

“Please don’t do this to me…” You steered towards the side of the road as much as you could while the truck wound down to a full stop. An annoyed sigh escaped from your lips. “Great.” You turned the car off and then back on, willing it to start up again, but the clicks of defeat that sounded from under the hood dashed your hopes.

You hadn’t had the time to buy a heavy winter coat yet, so you zipped up the light jacket that you had on and began walking. You didn’t want to make a bad impression on your second day of work by calling in sick, so you picked up your head and kept going. One of the points of starting your new journey was to be more self-reliant, and this definitely fell under that category. Ten minutes had passed, and your toes were so cold that you were sure they would snap off and rattle around in your shoes at any point now. The sound of an engine coming down the hill made you look over your shoulder to see a snowmobile barreling around the corner and straight towards you. You quickly side-stepped out of the way, but not enough to avoid the kickback of snow that was thrown into your face as the machine drove past.

“Seriously?!” You yelled as you shook the snow from your clothes. The snowmobile stopped and slowly backed up to meet you.

“What are you doing up here?” The man abruptly asked as he pulled off his helmet. If you weren’t so annoyed and cold, you might have thought he was attractive.

“Being buried alive by some maniac speeding down the mountain.” You retorted and brushed the snow from your hair with your fingers.

“I’m going to assume that’s your truck back there?”

“Lucky guess.” The wind-chill blew through your jacket and you crossed your arms. “I don’t think it likes the cold, and I don’t exactly blame it.”

His eyes assessed you. “Crappy shoes, thin jacket, and no gloves. I’m going to assume that makes you the clueless new girl.”

“What an ass...” You thought to yourself.

“I guess it does, Kowalski.”

“Kowalski? Really?”

You were surprised he got your reference to Clint Eastwood’s infamously crotchety main character.

“If you’ll excuse me, I gotta get to work.” You didn’t find much point in continuing on this conversation with such a smug jerk, so you continued on your path down the road and heard the snowmobile make a sharp u turn to climb back up the trail.

Ten more minutes later, you could see the main road just ahead of you had been plowed, and you were thankful that you wouldn’t have to be hiking through any more ankle-deep build-up. You could hear a vehicle slowly coming up behind you and you made sure to move as far over as you could to avoid being blasted with snow again. The truck slowed to a stop next to you and you looked over to see the same man from earlier rolling the passenger side window down.

“Get in, I’ll give you a ride.” His voice still sported an undertone of condescension and he rolled his eyes when a doubtful frown from you was sent towards him. “Just get in.”

Hundreds of episodes of Dateline should have taught you to not get in a car with some stranger, but you figured that even if he didn’t murder you, you’d end up dying of frostbite and decided to you’d rather die inside a warm truck. You opened the door and took off your damp jacket before getting inside.

The man’s knuckles were white as he gripped the steering wheel tight. You placed your hand by the heater on the dashboard in hopes of defrosting your fingers enough to feel them again.

“You shouldn’t drive a pickup in the winter.” His gaze stayed firmly glued on the road ahead.

“Uhm…” You dramatically looked around, “aren’t we in a pickup right now?”

“Yeah, a pickup with chains on the tires and a weighed down bed.”

“Well, I’m still pretty new at this whole snow thing…”

The man glanced at you from the corner of his eyes. “I couldn’t tell. You’re Y/N, aren’t you?”

“Should I be concerned that you know my name?” You raised an eyebrow.

“No, no,” he must have realized how creepy that came off, “I know Sarah. She’s dating my younger brother and she was telling us about you last night.”

“Oh, it all makes sense now. You’re the grumpy older brother. Dean, right?”

Another eyeroll made an appearance, but you could tell he wasn’t going to make any further comments.

“Well, I appreciate the ride. I’m sorry if I screwed up your morning routine.”

“It’s no big deal.”

It wasn’t hard to tell that Dean wasn’t a man of many words, and you were okay with that. You weren’t really one for small talk either. Dean’s eyes moved to your arm that was extended towards the vent blowing heat.

“That’s a gnarly bruise. How’d you manage that?”

You pulled your arm back quickly, hoping that your sudden move didn’t come across as suspicious. “Oh, you know, just being a clutz. They never tell you that moving by yourself is a dangerous game.” You chuckled casually while watching his eyebrows knit together ever so slightly as he glanced at the bruise one more time. No further remarks were made so you assumed he bought your story.

Dean pulled up in front of City Hall and stopped as close to the door as he could get. Before you could reach for the door handle, Dean instructed, “give me your keys.”

“What?” Your face twisted in confusion.

Yet another fed-up sigh escaped from his chest. “Bobby Singer down at the auto shop owes me a favor. I’ll get him to tow your truck down and take a look at it.”

“Oh.” you weren’t expecting such a generous gesture from such a grumpy guy. “I don’t want to put you out any more than I already have.”

“Hand it over.” The tone in his voice remained gruff, but the bluntness was slightly faded at this point. You reached into your pocket and pulled out your key ring, sliding the truck key off and placing it into Dean’s outstretched hand.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.” Dean’s eyes avoided yours and you took the hint that it was time to leave.

The wind blew flurries in the air, forcing you to quickly sprint to the door, meaning that you missed Dean watching you with curiosity. Sarah, who was observing from the front desk, didn’t miss his wondering stare. He quickly averted his eyes when he saw her spying and peeled away.

“Kowalski.” He muttered to himself with a half-entertained chuckle once he was a few blocks away. Dean would have never admitted it, but he quite enjoyed the witty nickname.

Sarah couldn’t stop the mischievous smirk that crept up on her face and leaned on the counter to greet you the second you stepped through the door.

“You look like you’ve had quite the morning.” She greeted.

“Yeah, something like that.” You hung your jacket up on the coat rack in the corner to dry and stomped the packed snow from the tread of your shoes.

“Am I going blind or did Dean Winchester give you a ride to work?” She quickly cornered you.

“Yeah. My truck broke down and then he tried to bury me in snow, so he gave me a ride.” Goosebumps covered your arms as you made your way to your desk. You had never been more grateful for heat.

Sarah crossed her arms and sat on your desk as you took your seat. “You know, people call him the Grinch because he moved way up the mountain to be all broody and alone.”

“I can’t say I don’t understand it. It’s kinda fitting.” You logged into your computer, but Sarah continued to press for details.

“Well did he say anything on the ride over or did he just glare at the road?”

“A little bit of both I guess. He told me I shouldn’t be driving a truck in the winter, but that’s about it.”

Ellen arrived and cut the chatter short. “Hey girls. You ready to get started, Y/N?”

“You bet.” You stood from your desk, but not before Sarah pointed an accusing finger at you.

“This conversation is not over!” She warned.

After lunch, Ellen had given you some expense reports to review and organize. It was tedious, but you didn’t mind the slow afternoon after a crazy morning. Sarah was helping you to punch holes in the stacks of papers and organize them into departments while the two of you chatted away. The snow had kept most people inside, so it was a slow day at the front desk. Just before it was time to call it a day, the bell of the front door dinged, and Sarah walked over to see who it was.

“Hey, Dean. You going over to Benny’s tonight?” She greeted.

“Not sure yet.”

Dean’s hands were shoved into his front pockets as he stared Sarah down, not wanting to give her any more room to speculate as to why he was here.

“Hi.” You smiled softly, trying your hardest ignore Sarah’s curious stare as you joined in the conversation.

He pulled a key from his pocket and set it down on the counter. “She’s all fixed up. Battery terminals were corroded so I cleaned them up a bit, but you’re going to need a new battery soon. That one doesn’t have much juice left in it.”

“Oh, I didn’t realize that you worked at the auto shop.” You remembered Sarah saying something about Dean working at the sawmill.

“No, I used to. But I figured it would be an easy fix, so I took a look myself. I stuck some old grates in the bed for some weight. Take it into Bobby’s tomorrow after work and he’ll take care of the rest. He knows you’re coming.”

“Wow, I really owe you one. Thank you.” You slid the key from off the counter and fiddled with the metal ring.

“Don’t read into it.” Dean tapped his fist on the counter twice before swiftly leaving.

Sarah was biting her lip, and you slowly turned your head towards her. “Spit it out.” You gave permission for her onslaught of questions.

“You didn’t tell me he was going to fix your car for you!”

“He said he would have Bobby tow it back to the shop and take a look at it. I didn’t know he was going to fix it himself.”

“I’ve known Dean for a long time, he’s pretty much my older brother at this point, so I can see past all the grumpiness. He’s a really good guy, he’s just been dealt a hard hand the past few years that made him swear off people.”

That was a feeling you could easily relate to. “He really went out of his way to bail me out today, so he can’t be all that bad.”

“He’s all bark and no bite. Granted, it’s a big bark.” Sarah checked her watch. “Closing time! Hey, would you want to come back to my place after we clock out? Sam’s playing poker at a buddy’s house tonight so I figured maybe we could grab some take out and find some furniture for you online?”

“Yeah, that’d be great actually! It definitely beats the PB and J I would be making otherwise.”

After work, you ran home to change and Sarah stopped for some Chinese food, then the two of you met at her apartment.

Some crappy TV movie played in the background while mostly empty take-out containers littered the kitchen counter. You were sitting on the floor with your laptop on the coffee table, browsing through loveseats while Sarah lay on the couch behind you giving her input.

The door gently swung open and the man you assumed to be Sam walked through. Sarah stood up and stretched before giving her boyfriend a hug.

“How was the poker game?”

Sam tossed his keys on the counter and pulled off his jacket. “About the same as always. Benny won most of the games, Cas still has no clue what he’s doing, and I lost a little too much pride.”

“You’ll get them one of these days. Come on,” she tugged on his shirt sleeve, “I want you to meet Y/N.”

You stood when Sam and Sarah walked into the room. “Y/N, this is Sam.”

“Ah, the infamous Y/N, I’ve heard lots about you the past day or so. It’s nice to put a face with the name.” He shook your hand. “How are you settling in?”

“Honestly, the move has been a lot easier than I thought it would be. Everyone here has been super welcoming and helpful.”

“Including Dean.” Sarah gave a knowing look to her boyfriend, who was clearly confused.

“My brother, Dean?”

“The one and only. He gave Y/N a ride to work and fixed her truck up for her.”

Sam’s face read skeptical. “My brother, Dean?” He repeated.

“I found myself knee deep in snow and car problems this morning. I’m sure he helped me out of pity more than anything.” You tried to explain, not wanting to make a big deal of the situation.

Sam rubbed the back of his neck. “Wow. I guess that’s why he was late to work today. Well, I hope he didn’t scare you off too much.”

You shook your head with a smile. “Not at all, he really helped me out. But I have to admit, I feel bad. He would barely acknowledge my thank yous. I don’t want to come across as ungrateful.”

“Yeah, that sounds like him. Don’t worry about it. I’m sure he heard you loud and clear, he’s just hasn’t been properly socialized yet.”

Sam finished off the rest of the Chinese and got to know you a little better while Sarah sat next to you on the floor, scrolling through furniture.

“Where’d you go to school, Y/N?” Sam stacked the empty red food containers together and set them aside as he pulled his feet up on the couch.

“University of Arizona. I didn’t originally plan on staying so close to home, but a full ride soccer scholarship is hard to turn down.”

“No way! That’s awesome.” Sam’s face lit up with an idea. “Oh! Every summer we do this obstacle course race thing here in town as part of the summer festival. Maybe you can be on our team this year?”

“That sounds super fun! Count me in.”

“Yes!”’ Sam made a fist in the air. “We’ve used to win every year, but we’ve come in second the past three times, so maybe you’ll be our secret weapon.”

Sarah joined the conversation once she’d had her fill of online shopping. “I was thinking, Y/N, I don’t know if you’re much of a baker, but if you wanted to say thank you to Dean, he’s a sucker for a good pie. I know he wouldn’t just brush that off.”

“It’s true. He’s a pie whore.” Sam nodded.

“Sam!” Sarah scolded.

“Noted,” you said through your laughs.

The clock in the corner of your laptop screen caught your eye and you realized how late it was getting. “I should probably start heading home before I hate myself tomorrow at work.”

“At least it’s not supposed to snow tonight.” Sarah teased.

“Wow, it’s going to be like that, huh?! It’s a learning curve, okay?” You stuck your tongue out as you gathered your things.

Sam stopped you after Sarah had said goodbye. “Hey, Y/N, I know Dean doesn’t make the greatest first impression, but do me a favor and don’t write him off just yet. He’s had a rough go the past little while and could always use another friend in his corner.”

“I won’t. I’m sure there’s a great guy buried under all that angst.” You gave a reassuring smile and Sam gave you a hug before you left.

The next day was Friday and between training and helping out with the front desk, the workday flew by. You needed to take your truck in to get the battery switched and Sarah had agreed to give you rides while you were without transportation. After work, you dropped off your truck at Bobby’s, and Sarah took you home. You were glad for a little time to yourself so you could clean up the house before the first delivery of furniture tomorrow morning.

On your lunch break earlier that day, you had gotten all the ingredients to make blueberry pie bars as a thank you for Dean. Time was in short supply, so you hoped these would be a suitable place holder in lieu of a regular pie. You quickly threw them together and loaded up a plate once they were cool enough. Baking had always been a stress reliever for you, and the way it filled your small cabin with warmth and sweet smells felt so cozy and charming.

Dean’s place was only a ten-minute walk from yours, so you bundled up and began your hike. You had finally gotten yourself a suitable coat and boots and couldn’t believe the difference they made as you crunched through the snow that was matted on the gravel road. His cabin was much newer than yours, and considerably nicer. A long staircase on the right side of the house led up to a wide porch. Smoke spilling from the chimney and lights beaming through the windows told you he was probably home, so you knocked on the door.

Clattering of locks being undone broke through the silence a few moments later and an expressionless Dean opened the door.

“Hi,” you began, “I just wanted to say thank you for helping me out so much the other day.” Dean stood silent and stone-faced, so you awkwardly continued. “I, uh, heard you were a big fan of pie, but I didn’t have enough time to make one from scratch, so I hope these will do.” You extended the plate of goodies and he looked at them doubtfully.

“Look,” a gravelly voice ended his vow of silence, “I don’t know what you’ve heard about me, but I’m not looking for any new friends or whatever this is.” He began to shut his door when you interjected.

“Listen, this is nothing more than a simple thank you for bailing me out when I really needed it. I’m not going to force you to eat them, but I’m also not going to take them home with me. Maybe just wait until I’m gone before you throw them away though.” You set the plate on a neatly stacked pile of firewood off to the side of the door. “Don’t read into it.” You echoed his parting words from yesterday and took your leave. A sneaky glance over your shoulder as you walked away revealed that Dean had picked up the plate and was looking at it with a half-impressed nod. You assumed that was as much of a reaction as you’d get from him and marked the trip to be successful.

Chapter 2

#dean winchester #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #dean x y/n #dean x you #dean winchester fic #dean fic #dean fanfiction #dean winchester fanfiction #supernatural #spn fanfiction #spn fic #supernatural fanfic series

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silence-burns · 3 years

Text

Please Hate Me //part 51

Fandom: Marvel

Summary: Based on: “Imagine having a love/hate relationship with Loki.” by @thefandomimagine Who would have thought that babysitting a god could be so much fun?

Genre: slow-burn, enemies to lovers, banter, smut

The TV buzzed quietly in the living room, repeating the same string of information all the news stations had been reporting since yesterday. It was amusing to see how many different words could be used to state the same thing without anyone noticing, especially if the only clip actually capturing the event that'd been on everyone's tongues for the past 24 hours lasted for less than 10 seconds and had been recorded on painfully cheap equipment.

Still, a suspicious and still unexplained cloud of what appeared to be dust, rising at the edge of the observable surface of the Moon, kept people plastered to the screens.

Peter kept an eye on the report just in case any actual news dropped, but so far, despite his ever growing curiosity, the world's experts were just as clueless as they had been yesterday, especially since investigating the site in person was not really an option.

A shiver ran down the boy's arms, urging him to keep moving. Even though the windows were wide open, the sour stench still hung in the air of his apartment. Fanning the air with an incredibly colorful and tacky fan aunt May had bought last summer, Peter had hoped to make the apartment a breathable place again before she was back.

"Don't look so smug," Peter gave Barbara the side eye. "It's your fault."

From the heights of the chandelier, the undead owl blinked slowly with all the smugness only an untouchable criminal was capable of mustering. In fact, the gagging odor only seemed to worsen.

Peter coughed, shuffling in even closer to the open window. They say that experience is the toughest, but also the best teacher, and Peter had no reason to disagree.

"...no wonder they didn't let you eat inside."

Peter checked the news again. He was dying to drown Loki and you under all the questions about what precisely had happened on the Moon. The boy had no doubts that your little visit there was directly connected to the incident, but he had no way of learning the truth just yet. The only two people knowing the facts were currently incapacitated and trying their best not to die on Peter's bed. Or at the very least not to let go of all the alcohol consumed.

Despite his best efforts, Peter was unable to wake them up. When he had offered to hide them from Thor for reasons they weren't the most open about, Peter had no idea it would be for such an extended period of time. Peter had only suggested his house because he knew aunt May was supposed to work till afternoon, but these few hours of peace and quiet were coming to a rather swift end with each moment Peter was incapable of waking and then moving out the two drunkards clinging onto his bed for dear life.

Peter had no idea how to explain them to aunt May. Or the undead owl poisoning the air from the heights of the chandelier.

With the door to his room firmly shut, Peter hoped his secret stash of people that definitely shouldn't be there would stay secret. He had a big chance of succeeding after all. If only he managed to fan out the stink in time and—

The keys rattled in the lock with the familiar jingle of all the little gadgets aunt May loved to keep attached despite their utter uselessness.

Peter looked at Barbara. Barbara looked at Peter. The boy could've sworn the owl recognized the thoughts rushing through his head at that moment, and decided to be even meaner than usual. Before Peter managed to put together a story explaining how an undead and rather unhygienic owl came into his possession, the owl took a swift exit through the open window and disappeared, leaving only the stench behind.

"Oh, come on…"

Increasing the speed of his fanning, Peter hoped it would be enough. The sounds coming from the door shattered his hope.

Aunt May coughed as she walked in, dropping the grocery bags on the table. "Peter, sweetheart, please tell me no one died in here while I was gone."

She took the fan from his hands and leaned out of the window, taking large gulps of the fresh air.

Outside, there was no sign of a stinky undead owl anywhere in sight. Not even one filthy feather to prove how close to guessing the truth aunt May was. Peter was unsure whether it was for better or for worse, but it surely left him with all the questions remaining to be answered.

"No, of course not!" he laughed the fakest laugh of his life. "It's not like any animals could get in and just...decompose, right?"

"Well, it would certainly be hard given what floor we live on, but you know New York, the rats can just get anywhere."

Peter watched in growing terror as his aunt looked around, set firmly on finding the source of the smell. The living room was a closed space, with only so many pieces of furniture to look under before the idea of marching into the boy's room popped into her head.

There was little to no doubt his own head would be torn from his neck if she beheld the sight of it.

"That's not rats, really! It's just… well, Ned made me swear not to tell a thing, but you know his stomach and I had told him the burrito we had after school didn't look very well, but he was insistent, so…"

Peter shrugged, trying his best not to show how fast his heart was drumming in his chest. He made a mental note to apologize to Ned later, or at least buy him a burrito next time they met. Not mentioning the reason for it would probably be the wisest, though.

Aunt May sighed with what could only be read as parental concern. As Peter's closest friend, Ned was a frequent guest to the apartment and many meals have gone by with May admiring his appetite. She knew well the capabilities of Ned's stomach and the inhuman amount of food it could make disappear.

"Poor thing, I really hope he recovers soon. Is he still there?" May whispered, nodding towards the bathroom.

"No, he just...left."

May raised her eyebrows. "In that state?"

"I mean, he said he was fine now and could make it home."

"You should call him," she gave up on her search and started unpacking the groceries she got on her way home. "I really hope he made it in one piece."

"That's a great idea, I'll do it right away."

Before May managed to say another thing, the boy was already gone, the door to his room firmly shut. She smiled to herself. Ned was a good boy and she was glad Peter still had a friend in him for so many years. If only his choices in food weren't a health hazard...

Peter locked the door behind him, pushing his back to it. He took a deep, if rather shaky breath.

"I'm glad you're finally awake, but what are you guys doing?"

You turned your head away from the open window, banging it into Loki's. He winced, but continued to assess the 10-story drop to the ground outside the building.

"We're sneaking out," you slurred. "The suits are coming."

"What su-"

Even through his closed door, Peter heard the doorbell ring. He froze. "Who's that?"

"I don't remember, but they want something from us."

Peter looked at the door. Then back to you. Loki was already missing.

The fire escape was an old and wiry thing, stubbornly fighting against the rust and corrosion throughout the years. It stood mostly unbroken, which was greatly appreciated by the two people currently about to use it. But the passage of time left its mark that could be well heard by all the residents of the building. The high-pitched, irritating sound of old metal creaking under every step was a steep price to pay for a way out.

Peter took a deep breath in his now-empty room. It did little to steady him. Behind the door, he could hear a conversation between aunt May and a voice he almost recognized. Maybe if he snuck out after them…

"Peter, come here for a moment!" May called him with a smile to her voice.

It couldn't be that bad if she was smiling, right?

Reluctantly, Peter returned to the living room, bracing himself to meet whoever the suits were.

"Hello, Peter," Agent Coulson nodded politely in his direction.

SHIELD was in his house and Peter had little to no doubt the agent wasn't there to try his aunt's home baked cookies.

"I'm sorry for the rush, Peter, but have you perhaps seen…," the agent looked at Peter's aunt, "your new coworkers? I can't contact them lately. We were working on a new project."

Peter watched his aunt link his apparent 'internship' at Stark Industries and Coulson's words. Even though she was growing giddy and engaged the agent in some small talk about the job, Peter knew the agent was still waiting for the answer.

There was only one way of getting out of this mess.

Playing dumb had always been his savior.

Peter was the image of innocence as he asked, "Who?"

But Coulson's features hardened almost imperceptibly. In one short moment, Peter knew he messed up.

Well, maybe playing dumb didn't work on certain people.

#please hate me #loki x reader #loki x you #loki series #loki laufeyson x reader #loki laufeyson x you #loki #loki laufeyson #loki mcu #loki marvel #loki imagine #loki fanfiction #loki laufeyson imagine

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thranduilsperkybutt · 3 years

Photo

He’s A Phantom 👻

Gif source

Pairings: Daniel Forsythe x MeeMaw!Reader

Warnings: Crack, this was not written seriously at all. Literally ,,,,, just ,,,,, not at all ,,,, meant to be taken seriously.

Word Count: 2,032 words

Reader Gender: MeeMaw

Author: Meg

Summary: MeeMaw sees a ghost... of her past. And also a literal ghost.

A/N: For my lovelies, @karasong and @bb8sworld, who are undoubtedly chomping at the bit to discover just what I meant when I jokingly said I was going to write a MeeMaw!Reader/Daniel fic when we watched The Spirit of Christmas together. Plot twist, I wasn’t joking. I wrote it. 🏃‍♀️ And now you have to read it, mwuahaahahhaaa---

Fingertips running over the bannister at the foot of the staircase, how long has it been since you last came to this place? The wood was old beneath your fingertips, yet looked in far better condition than the wrinkles that sagged at your own skin.

Once, you came here every year. Clockwork, in your youth, your visits had been.

The Inn had been your second home, up until it suddenly wasn’t.

“MeeMaw?” calls the questioning sound of your granddaughter’s voice, lilting upwards as she catches your distant attention, pulling you back from your memories of this place. You look towards her, seeing as much of yourself in her as the man you had eventually married, long after your time spent at this inn.

“Yes, dear?” your voice is familiarly yours, but the years have made you softer, slower, and your voice reflects that. A more relaxed sound, different from the vibrant excitement that had followed you during your days rushing through these halls.

She glances towards the photograph along the wall, “You never told me this place was haunted, MeeMaw.” There’s a laugh in her voice, the kind that comes with someone who doesn’t believe in such things… the kind of tone you had once held, when you’d first come here, all those years ago.

A sigh is in your throat, as you set eyes on him again, pushing your bifocals up your nose to catch sight of the aged photograph that was even older than you were, “Daniel.” Your granddaughter raises a brow at you, when you hum, “Yes, he’s just as I remember him, in this photo.”

“MeeMaw, don’t tell me you believe in that haunted nonsense,” she rolls her eyes at you.

“Don’t be so close-minded, dear. There’s more stories I could tell you of the time I spent with Daniel than would fill our whole trip here.”

“Sure, MeeMaw,” her sarcastic tone proved she didn’t believe you, and as she bent to grab her suitcase at her feet to tote up the stairs, you think you heard something about a nursing home.

Another sigh, as you glance back towards the photograph on the wall, softer, so that none would hear, as you whispered to the spirit, who had been your first love, “It’s been a long time, old friend. Are you still here, I wonder?”

You would find out soon enough, considering Christmas came in thirteen days.

---

You were never supposed to know about him. Back then, he had been the Forsythe family’s most well-kept secret. Henrietta had gone to great lengths to maintain Daniel’s secrecy when the Hollygrove Inn fell into her ownership, but one overzealous friend coming to call unexpectedly three days to Christmas had ruined all that in one fell swoop.

You had been the overzealous friend, if that wasn’t obvious.

Truly, you’d not thought about it whatsoever when you’d jimmied the lock of the front door upon no answer to your knocking, fruit cake in hand to deliver to your bestie, Henrietta.

The very fruitcake which had wound up all over the hardwood floor upon spotting the tall man lounging in the parlor, and the recognition that he was her long-dead cousin. He hadn’t looked a day older than the photographs then, either, which you’d realized before screaming your head off like you’d seen a ghost--- because you had--- which had resulted in him subsequently trapping you in the washroom until Henrietta returned home.

Swearing you to secrecy had been the easy part, but convincing you to set down the fire poker you’d strategically positioned between you and Daniel for the hour of her explanation had been harder.

Part of you felt pity for him, when she’d told you her father had spent the good part of his years trying to find a way to break the curse. The other part of you wondered just what Daniel had done so terribly to earn such a purgatory of these twelve annual days.

That first Christmas, you didn’t find out.

By the second, you found yourself warming to the spirit wandering the halls of your friend’s inn at yule time.

By the third, you wondered if there wasn’t perhaps some way to break the curse yourself.

So, when Henrietta asked you to watch the inn as she traveled across the country to visit her mother’s family for Christmas, you said yes, knowing you were the only option she had. The only other living person outside her family who knew of Daniel’s state.

That Christmas was truly the Christmas that everything changed between you and Daniel.

“I have no need for a keeper,” Daniel had grumbled as you dropped your bag by the door, removing your winter’s gloves to wave at the back of Henrietta’s cab as it pulled past the edge of the lot, down the road, ever away from the inn. Your smile faded somewhat when he all but ordered, “Go home, madam. I’d much prefer my solitude.”

“And what of last Christmas?” you countered, casting a scathing look over your shoulder as you turned to come into the home, closing the door to cut off the nippy air of winter that seeped through your stockings, “You didn’t say such things when Henrietta was spending Christmas with you.”

“Henrietta is family,” was his only explanation.

“You would truly rather spend Christmas alone, than with me?”

Perhaps it was the slight hurt in your voice, as you lingered there in the entryway, making no move to lift your eyes from the floor where you’d fixated against his shoes, or something else. You were still uncertain as to why he let out a huff and moved closer, boots coming into your vision as he bent to grasp your bag.

Nothing was said, other than, “I’ll put it in your room.”

And you could find nothing to say in return as you watched his back ascend the stairs with your suitcase, though a small smile slipped onto your lips at his acceptance of your presence here. Better than an outright refusal.

---

“Sweet Lord!” you jump at your reflection in the mirror upon the wall of the parlor, breaking you from your remembrance of your times spent here. Wrinkles sagged your cheeks, glasses thick and round along your cheekbones, crow’s feet dragging from the corner of your eyes and laugh lines cascading to your chin.

Proof you’d lived, when he had not.

The furniture was mostly different from how it was back then. A few pieces remained of the original antiques, but new mixed with the old of the inn, until it was just as much something you didn’t remember as much as something you did.

Your hand grips the back of the couch. It was reupholstered, but the same one you had sat in when you’d first come to the inn as a girl.

The bones of this place were familiar, calling out to you in a welcome that only you could hear. Recognize.

You wondered if Daniel would be happy or sad to see that you had done as he told you, when you spoke that last time to him. The first time you’d ever done as he had said, had also been the last.

---

The shift had been gradual, from acquaintances to friends to something more than that. You hadn’t realized the change until it was upon you, and you were left clutching your hot chocolate in front of one of the long windows of this inn, snow flurrying beyond it, beckoning the Christmas that would dawn in a matter of hours. Summoning Daniel back to the state he was in for the rest of the year, between existence and not.

“Is it not good?” he asks beside you, looking towards the cup in your hand and the frown settling into your brow.

“No, it’s delicious.”

“Then why do you look so displeased?”

“Tomorrow is Christmas,” you say it soft, barely a whisper, in the hopes that perhaps it will not come to be should you keep it secret, close to your heart, as Daniel had come to be. He stands there simply, waiting for you to continue, to explain, “Tomorrow, you’ll be gone again.”

“As I have these past decades, yes,” Daniel’s head tilts, questioning, but knowing all the same. You wonder if he asks, just to confirm his suspicion, “Why does it bother you, suddenly?”

“You know why it bothers me,” you were undoubtedly pouting, tearing your eyes from the snow building outside, to catch his gaze, and you know he can see the hurt building in your chest. “Maybe, there’s some way to help you. I can come back next year, and---”

“No.”

The single word slices through you, worse than anything he’d ever said. Firm, but soft against his lips, was his rejection. His small statement that would rip you to shreds along the hardwood floor, as thin as the tinsel along the tree in the corner.

“No?” you breathe, a shake in your voice.

Daniel reaches up, brushing his fingertips--- warm, alive, if only for a few hours more--- against your jaw, settling soft and bittersweet against your cheek, “No, I won’t let you waste your life chasing after some curse-breaking miracle as my cousin did before you. I won’t have you tied to this place as I am.”

“But, Daniel, I---”

“Don’t say it,” it was as close to begging as he had ever sounded, and the sound of it is enough to silence you forever. “You can’t. Not when you must leave here tomorrow, and never return. Leave this place, marry, have children, live--- live the life I’ll never be able to give you.” You wanted to tell him that no life would be worth anything without him in it, that you wanted to spend it here, with him, even if it meant only twelve days a year, but he must see the protest in your eyes, because he solidifies his request with, “If not for you, then do it for me. Live, for me.” Tears welling in your eyes, spilling down your cheek silently, as he croons and wipes away the salt and water, “Don’t cry.”

“I’m going to miss you,” is all you can manage through ragged breaths.

“We still have two hours until midnight,” Daniel had breathed, before bending to brush his lips against the watery smudge his thumb had left against your cheek. “Don’t miss me until after then. I want to remember you happy.”

As hard as it was, you push the emotion down, the overwhelming urge to sob your eyes out, knowing this will be the last time you see him. For him. For the first man you’ve ever loved, you can at least keep from crying for two more hours. So you do it.

And force a smile upon your lips, deep breath in as you try to remember him like this, too, smiling down at you, with as much an unspoken confession in his own eyes, “Merry Christmas, Daniel.”

“Merry Christmas.”

When he had said your name then, it had sounded like a prayer. Reverent, desperate.

---

When he says your name now, it’s surprise and disbelief. Sharp, on his tongue, as you turn from the kitchen to catch sight of him standing in the doorway, morning light casting through the curtained window. Your granddaughter has yet to wake, and you smile at the sight of him, just as bittersweet as your last meeting with him had been.

He doesn’t look a day over thirty.

You looked much more than that, now.

“I thought I told you to never come back,” comes from his lips, but a lopsided smile rests there.

“Since when did I ever listen to you?” comes jokingly on the tail of a breathless laugh, “Oh, it has been a while, Daniel.”

He crosses the kitchen in few strides, catching you in the warm embrace of his arms, squeezing gently, “You shall have to tell me all about it.”

“Well, for starters,” you lean back, beaming up at him, “they call me MeeMaw, now.”

He laughed, big and wide and more than you ever remember him doing, “My, you have lived, haven’t you?”

“I have.”

----------

I’m not going to add the taglist because this is so not what any of you signed up for.

#im not even going to bother putting this on my masterlist #nor am i going to tag it seriously #also uhh am i guilty that this is the first thing im posting after a long hiatus #kind of but oh well #daniel forsythe fanfic #the spirit of christmas fanfic #the spirit of christmas meemaw reader insert #author meg #fanfic by me

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yurtletheturtlehenderson · 3 years

Text

COSMIC - S3:E3; Chapter Three, The Case Of The Missing Lifeguard - [Pt. 5]

A Will Byers x Reader Series

𝘌𝘭 𝘨𝘰𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘭 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘫𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘤𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘉𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘏𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳. 𝘞𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭𝘴 𝘵𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦𝘨𝘶𝘢𝘳𝘥, 𝘞𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘔𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘓𝘶𝘤𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘋&𝘋. 𝘋𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘚𝘵𝘦𝘷𝘦 𝘴𝘱𝘺 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘙𝘰𝘣𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘱𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘙𝘶𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘢𝘯 𝘮𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘢𝘨𝘦.

⚠️: Castle Byers scene. Meaning lots of angst, self destructive thinking, and misguided self punishing

📝: Started making it... had a break down [fr tho]... ¯\_( ツ)_/¯ bon appetite! 👩‍🍳 [edit: told ya 💀]

🔑: underlined and bold means they're talking in Russian

||𝟑𝐑𝐃 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐏𝐎𝐕||

Warm rain spits from the angry blanket of clouds, falling through the sky and drenching Mike and Lucas to the bone despite their rain gear. Mud splashed up onto their ankles and drenching their socks as their bikes skid up the Byers driveway. Without a thought, they throw their bikes into the ground before racing up onto Will's porch.

It had taken far longer than they cared to admit to decide to go and find Will. To make things right.

Mike was realizing far too late just how right Will was. He didn't even recognize himself anymore. El had become such an important piece of his life, but he hadnt realized until now just how much he let his feelings screw up all the wonderful things he had in his life to begin with. He missed how things used to be. With the party. With Y/n.

With Will.

All the anger he feels towards himself is channeled into his fist banging on Will's front door.

"Will!" He cries. "Will, I'm sorry, man, alright? I was being a total asshole. I've been a total asshole. Please, can you just come outside and we'll talk?"

No answer but the thundering clouds rolling over their heads. He pounds on the door again.

"Will!"

Lucas hurries to the window, cupping his palms against the glass and peering inside. He knocks on the window, doing his best to peer around the curtains and furniture obscuring his sight.

"Hey, Will! Come on, man! We're sorry!" He knocks again, growing nervous. "Will!"

||𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋'𝐒 𝐏𝐎𝐕||

'Sorry, man. Curfew,'

'For the last time, Will! No!'

-'What, so I should be locked up all day, too?'

-'Maybe!'

Huffing, I throw the wrinkling comic book into the old mattress. Nothing was working. Nothing was enough to distract me. I was too angry.

I looked down at the withered cover of the comic book I had just thrown, my chest sinking further. Dustin's X-MEN 134, he gave it to me after that night at the hospital.

Thinking about it now, I can't even remember the last time all seven of us hung out as a party. I don't count Dustin's welcome home. Mike and El couldn't be bothered to pretend to care, and Lucas and Max kept ganging up on Dustin. Dustin was understandably upset and not wanting anything to do with us, leaving just me and Y/n. And now, not even her.

How did everything get so messed up?

What was I doing wrong?

I looked around the walls of Castle Byers, a lump forming in my throat. Everywhere I looked, I was painfully reminded of the truth.

My friends don't want me anymore.

I keep telling myself that's bullshit, but the more I do the more it feels like a lie.

They're moving on without me.

Friends don't just forget you, I reasoned. They don't just abandon you.

Then why were they doing just that?

Maybe they weren't my real friends. Friend's don't do what they did.

Everything hurts. I've been telling myself I'm fine, that I'm overreacting but I don't think I am anymore. I'm just tired. I'm tried of feeling like this. I'm tired of being pushed aside, especially when I need them most.

They didn't use to be like this, I tell myself. But somehow that just hurts more.

I had people that cared about me, who were willing to risk their lives to save me. Twice.

And now they don't give me a second thought.

I was shaking now, but I don't think it's from the rain. The storm had finally reached me, seeping through the walls and dampening my clothes and hair.

Another painful realization hits me; Castle Byers looked just like it had the night I built it with Jonathan.

Even though this night was so much like the night Castle Byers was constructed, it couldn't feel more different. More unfamiliar.

My teary eyes find my first D&D manual, propped up against the wooden walls, soaked and forgotten like me. I'm painfully reminded of the night all this started.

I remember it as clear as if it were yesterday, and yet it feels light-years away.

'Something is coming. Something hungry for blood.'

《•••》

"What is it?" I ask, edging further off my seat.

This time it's Dustin who cuts in, "What if it's the Demogorgon?"

Oh, great, I think, throwing myself back in my seat with an anxious huff. We're not ready to face a Demogorgon!

Beside me, Y/n draws in an equally anxious breath.

"Oh, Jesus, we're so screwed if it's the Demogorgon." Dustin rambles on.

"It's not the Demogorgon." Lucas says, assuring us all.

《•••》

My eyes trail to one of my favorite drawings; Will The Wise and Y/C/N. The one I had made when Y/n was first constructing her character. The one that hung in my room for so long, always cheering me up. The one that gave my mom the idea to help me communicate my now memories.

The one that Y/n always threatened to steal for her room as often and as recently as her last visit. The memory of her warm touch lingering on my cheeks burned as bright as the blush raging over me that night so long ago.

'Wait a minute... Did you guys hear that?'

《•••》

The anticipated silence in the basement left by Mike grew louder as he leaned in.

"Boom..." His voice grows louder. "Boom," Louder.

"BOOM!" Mike bellows, slamming his hands against the flat surface, rattling the table and all its contents.

The sudden noise was enough to make me and my friends jump, as was the sudden hand grabbing for my own.

All the more startled, I look down to see Y/n's hand grasping my arm like a lifeline. I feel my skin flush, my cheeks surely reddened as I catch her eye. She looked flustered, smiling a small smile before retracting her hand and returning to the game, unknowingly leaving me in a dizzying blush.

•••

"Will, your action!"

"Fireball!" I cry, throwing the dice to the board with a satisfying rattle.

"FOURTEEN!"

My friends erupt into cheers, all around me as we celebrate together.

"BOOM!"

"Direct hit!" Mike cries, beaming proudly at me across the table. "Will the Wise's fireball hits the Thessalhydra!"

Our excited shouts fill the basement, each and every one of us victorious. My smile can't get any wider when I feel Y/n's hands grip my shoulder and begin shaking me excitedly. We both laugh, feeling on top of the world with our cheering friends by our side.

《•••》

Pained, I look away only to find the proof right in front of my eyes. My three favorite pictures; all of them, my friends and me — happy — staring back up at me.

Our photo from the science fair, encased in the popsicle frame Mike had made bearing all of our characters' names along the side. I brought it here, I brought all my favorite pictures here, to Castle Byers — to my safe place — cause that's where I knew I would need their comfort the most.

But as I look at them now, all I feel is bitterness and pain. I'm reminded of just how much everything has changed.

The science fair was a reminder of the good thing I had before that night. Before everything started.

Y/n and me, at the Snow Ball. My arm wrapped around her, the two of us grinning nervously. It wasn't just the night Y/n and I had first kissed, it was also the first night I felt like the Party had gotten bigger. All of us, Max and El included had been happy. Everyone was laughing and getting along, the happiest we had ever been — the strongest. But now I see it was really the beginning of the end.

It had been coming for so long and I didn't even see it.

And Halloween. Last Halloween, everything had been perfect. For just one. Single. Stupid. Moment.

Shakily, I pick up the photo Jonathan had taken of all of us in our costumes. We were all smiling.

We were all happy.

'Who you gonna call?'

《•••》

I beam as I see my friends pulling up, looking just as excited as I felt.

"Ghostbusters!" I finish, watching as they look me over, happily surprised.

"Hey, Spengler!"

"Egon! Looking sharp!" Y/n grinned, pulling me into a quick hug.

"Janine!" I beam. "Venkman!"

《•••》

As I look at it now, my eyes and throat stinging as Mike's voice echoes louder than ever in my mind.

'I mean, what did you think, really?'

What was I thinking?

'That we were just gonna sit in my basement all day, playing games for the rest of our lives?'

How could I have been so naive?

'it's not my fault you can't move on!'

How could I have been so... so...

"Stupid." I tell myself, my voice splitting in my throat. "So stupid!"

My hands trembling violently with rage and my own sobs, I tear the photo in two.

I was stupid. Stupid to believe I was as big of a priority to them as they were to me.

I rip the drawing off the walls, tearing it to pieces.

Stupid to ever think they'd still cared about me.

I rip and tear and crumple up every meaningful piece of them in an act of defiance.

They won't care. I think bitterly. They won't miss these, they probably won't even notice. Not like I would have.

I grab my bat.

How could I be so fucking stupid?!

Why was I hanging on to all this stuff anyway? Why was I clinging so tightly to something that was already gone?

Because I've been stupid. I'm just some stupid kid that won't grow up.

I storm out of the tent.

I'm just some stupid kid who can't grow up. They made that perfectly clear.

I stand in the pouring rain now, heart thundering in my chest as I stare at the piece of my childhood I couldn't let go of.

So. Stupid.

And I start swinging.

I swing and I swing, with an anger and frustration I've never felt so intensely until now. It's been building my whole life and I didn't realize it. Every swing is simultaneously the best and the worst I've ever felt. Every slur I've heard from my dad, from Troy, is channeled into the bat. Every ounce of frustration and fear I felt since I came back from the Upside Down that nobody understood. Every laugh, every jeer, every single moment I've felt alone is channeled into the destruction of the one place on this earth I ever felt safe.

But it holds up and in the back of my mind, I hear Jonathan again.

'And it took so long cause you were so bad at hammering'

And I start kicking, and I start ripping the walls apart until it's a crumpled heap and I stop.

The sight of Castle Byers in ruins breaks me even harder.

I didn't want it gone, but I did it anyway. That part of me that was angry at myself, told me to keep going. Cause that's what I deserved for believing things could stay the same even though deep down I knew that wasn't true.

I finally stop when I see the castle in ruins.

Exhausted, I collapse to the ground beside the wreckage.

As I sob, stewing in the pain and overwhelming grief I felt I was drowning in, the rain pours heavily over me, soaking me to the bone.

Just as it had the night it had been built.

And now, Castle Byers was gone.

||𝟑𝐑𝐃 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐏𝐎𝐕||

When blue meets yellow in the west.

8:41 pm. It was almost time.

The yellow and blue clock hands were illuminated by a flash of lightning, streaking through the mall's skylight. Starcourt had long since closed, and the real activity was just beginning.

Stationed at the loading docks near the back, standing under the worst storm Hawkins had seen in years were two guards. They watched through the downpour as the scheduled truck backed its way under the concrete cover.

And perched on the roof, just out of sight sat Dustin, Steve, and Robin, scouting from under their rain slickers.

"Look for Imperial Panda and Kauffman Shoes," she reminds them.

Steve wipes away at the rain dripping into his eyes, squinting even further to get a clear picture Dustin already has.

A man in a bright yellow raincoat emerges from a hidden side door, a trolley cart full of packages marked with a familiar insignia.

"They're with that whistling guy!" Dustin says suddenly, motioning out from behind the only pair of binoculars.

"What do you think's in there?" Steve wonders, eyeing the Lynx logo on the back of their many yellow jackets.

"Guns? Bombs?"

"Chemical weapons?" Robin tries.

"Whatever it is," Dustin says, now cautiously studying the heavily armed guards. He had to admit to himself, they really weren't trying very hard not to be obvious. "they're armed to the teeth."

"Great," comes Steve's sarcastic voice, once again rubbing at his eyes, silently wishing he had brought a coat with a hood. "That's great."

A soft clink that would have been obnoxiously loud had it not been for the noise of the storm brings their attention to another guard. Having pressed a glowing button on a small control panel, two large metal doors swung open to reveal another room.

"Hey!" Robin says, squinting through the rain as she tries to get a glimpse without the binoculars. "What's in there?"

"It's just more boxes,"

"Let me check it out," Steve says, grabbing for the binoculars.

Huffing, Dustin fought to keep his grip on the binoculars. "No, I'm still looking!"

"Lemme see it!"

"Hang on!"

Steve's grip had loosened with the slick of rain, sending the binoculars knocking into the cement. The issue had already been forgotten when they saw the guards' attention had been stolen. Simultaneously, the three of them dove to the ground in a panic.

The guards began to pace, grip on their firearms tightening as they gaze out into the night. Seeing nothing but empty roofs and angry skies above them, they unknowingly miss the trio huddled against the roof wall.

Just out of sight to the right of Dustin, Steve and Robin sat panting as they try to calm their racing hearts. Way too close a call. And neither of them had realized what they had done until their eyes landed on their entertained hands. Just as quickly as they notice, they break apart, embarrassed.

Down below, the guards were now on high alert. One of them, unable to shake the feeling of being watched, stalked into the rain with his eyes deadset on an open spot on the roof. He was certain he heard the noise come from that direction.

"Stay here!" He orders to the other. "Watch the door!"

Reluctantly, his partner complies and inches back towards the doors.

When he finally reaches the top of the stairwell, he hesitates only a moment before he throws the roof door open, gun cocked.

But he was met only with steady claps of thunder and an empty roof.

Had he been wrong?

Or had he just missed whoever had been here?

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

Clothes drenched, their shoes sloshing underneath their feet like sponges, Steve, Robin, and Dustin slip out from the shadows and make their way throughout the back halls behind the scenes of Starcourt.

"Well, I think we sound your Russians," Robin quips.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Black Trans Travel Fund:

For The Gworls:

"The Black Trans Travel Fund is a grassroots, Black Trans led Collective, providing Black Transgender Women with financial and material resources needed to remove barriers to self-determining and accessing safer travel options"

Trans Women Of Color Collective Fund

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

"Founded by a Black transgender woman and a Black nonbinary person, For The Gworls raises money to help provide funds for rent and gender affirming surgeries for Black transgender people across the country."

Taglist:

@dickkwad @iblesstherainsdown-in-africa @miscellaneoustoasts @happyandlonely-blog @peeperparkour @ba-responds @bibliophilesquared @blogforhoes @witch-of-all-things-soft @shawkneecaps @whothefuckstolemykeds @daughter-of-the-stars11 @stranger-things4 @kpopanimegirl @nightbu-g @lozzybowe @gizmofishersupremacy @spiderbitch69420

❥ Let me know if you would like to be added to or removed from the taglist! ❥

#cosmic #cosmic 3 #will byers x reader #will byers x fem!reader #stranger things #stranger things 3 #the case of the missing lifeguard #3x03

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otterbagel · 3 years

Text

The Reunion (Part 2) Simon x Reader

Reader makes a rash decision, one that has long lasting consequences.

(Notes: Link to part 1! Hope you enjoy the rest of the story. :) )

The air in the building was tense as you stood in the elevator, watching the numbers slowly rise.

The police had mostly left by now, all that remained were a few cleanup crews who were, for the most part, still here just to avoid going to their next assignment. Not that you blamed them; this had been quite a scary day.

Since you weren't in charge of anything big, you hadn't even known anything was going on until the broadcast had nearly finished. You had been… what had you been doing? Vetting some stories you had found to be a bit too mundane for publication. Even though the strange interference had originated from a few floors above you, it took a panicked employee yelling at the TV for you to notice.

There wasn't much anyone could do; police and security had already been notified. Just watching the skinless android on screen was the most productive thing your team could possibly do.

And watch they did. A few were visibly jittery, talking about barricading the doors just in case they decided to come down here— although the thought of an android group demanding an entertainment piece be written about their exploits almost got a chuckle out of you— others were more frustrated and annoyed. Older employees trying to figure out how the topmost office was sieged so quietly, annoyed that they might have to stay late, even discussions about who sent the androids.

Through it all you had remained calm, trying to lead the group as best you could through the confusion.

The elevator dinged.

But despite how you tried to compose yourself, you couldn't help but feel a sense of fear… and a deep longing.

You stepped out, the hallway devoid of any life. The usual guards up here had been knocked out and were probably taking a very long vacation.

At the very end of the hallway, right before the broadcasting room, stood a couple of human guards; you doubted they would risk using any androids up here for the foreseeable future.

With the hallway as empty as it was, the guards immediately took notice of you.

"Hey, what's your business up here?" One asked in a gruff voice.

You held up your keycard, a passive way of showing your status. "I wanted to get a better look at the room," you pulled out your cellphone, gently shaking it in the air in an attention attracting manner. "Wanted to get some photos too— we don't have any good ones to use for our article on it."

He appeared to ponder it for a moment before stepping aside, his partner following suit. He gave a nod.

With a quick stride you entered the room.

It appeared to have been deep cleaned, no trace of what had occurred. Some furniture had been moved aside, likely for cleaning.

Angling some of the less disturbed areas into the view of your phone's camera, you snapped a few quick pictures through the thickness of your throat.

It felt eerie to be standing here.

That android had been standing in nearly this exact location just hours ago, demanding rights and freedoms… that sort of talk would have him destroyed.

And yet… you completely agreed with him.

Your hands tensed on your phone as you looked to the floor.

Why couldn't this have happened two years earlier?

Why couldn't it have happened before that day?

...It didn't matter. He was far away, and safe from this sort of persecution. Maybe in Canada where no android laws existed… or maybe he was still in the States, just in a rural place and pretending to be human.

At least, that's what you told yourself to help you sleep at night.

You shook the thought away. There was no use thinking about him now.

Bringing yourself back to reality, you took a cursory glance around the room. You didn't get to come up here very often, maybe once or twice in the year you had been writing for them.

With the TV screen off, it was oddly empty looking in here.

There seemed to be a couple of points of interest: a darkened break room and a stairway to the roof.

Wasn't the roof where the deviants jumped?

That would be an interesting photo. You doubted there were many before the incident.

You climbed the dark stairs, taking in a deep, cold breath before you opened the outside door.

Chills ran down your hand and up your arm before you even had the door fully open.

You let the door shut behind you, as you crossed your arms to ward off the cold. Being this high up made the wind much rougher than you were used to.

The edge of the building was daunting. You hesitated to even approach it, lest a stray gust of wind send you sailing over. Without those parachutes, the intruders would've never made it back down in one piece.

The wind was a bit much. You took a few quick pictures before stepping closer to some of the walls. At least it would give some sort of protection.

There was a loud clanging noise nearby that made your phone fall out of your hands.

After you got over your moment of frozen alarment, you kneeled down to scoop up your phone, eyes wide and looking for the source.

Had that been the wind? Wouldn't you have heard it earlier if it was something that continuous and natural?

You crept around the large, metal ducts. Had to be from one of those.

There was an entrance to one of the metal compartments. That seemed to be the only place left for anyone to hide.

A worried thought crossed your mind: had someone been stuck up here during the panic?

Heading towards the door at a more brave pace, you stood a foot near the entrance with your hand reached for the handle. You paused, your more cautious nature pulling your hand away ever so slightly.

"H-hello?" You questioned quietly towards the door.

Silence.

You exhaled a tense breath, your hand making its way to the metallic door.

You knocked against it.

A loud fumbling noise from inside and the clicking of a gun sent you stumbling backwards and into a panic. This had to be a deviant, somehow left behind in the chaos.

"You don't wanna shoot me," your voice was higher pitched than usual as you fought against the wind and deep seated terror for breath. "The shots will be really loud. People will hear."

"Just," the android's voice was hard to make out, the echo in the compartment distorting his words. "Just go away. Leave me alone. I just want to be left alone."

After an extra second to make out what he said, you rose to a crawl and sat beside the door. "Why are you still up here?" You questioned. He didn't seem hostile.

He was quiet for a while. "I was injured," he explained. "I couldn't make the jump. I wanted to see if I could get back down tonight."

You nodded to yourself in understanding. "So… you're a part of that group of deviants? Are there a lot of them?"

Things went uncomfortably quiet until he spoke up again. "...why would you like to know?"

You licked your lips, struggling to verbalize the thoughts you had had bouncing around in your head for two years. "I… was friends with an android," you began wistfully and with a small chuckle. "I was wondering if he was okay, that's all."

The android went quiet again, the sound of what seemed to be him shuffling around inside to get more comfortable filling the silence.

"I… well I find it hard to believe," he remarked softly. "A lot of humans are very cruel… few seem to care about what happens to us."

He was right. It seemed that nobody cared about androids or bonded with them the way you had Simon. You couldn't understand the cruelty they could have towards androids if they did.

You placed a hand to your chest. "I know that humans are normally cruel," you began. "B-but I honestly cared about him so much. I would've given anything for us to be together. I swear it."

You stared at the ground while the android thought to himself.

"I was lucky," the deviant began. "The human I knew was very kind. I had been discarded over and over… and reset every time. I wasn't as useful as other androids."

You let your head rest against the metal as you listened.

"Then… they bought me. I knew I had been reset a lot… and expected they would do it too after they got bored of me…" his voice trailed until it was interrupted by a halfhearted laugh. "But they didn't. They treated me like a person. They… respected me. I felt like I might have had a future with them. A future where I wasn't just an object or a maid, but someone who brought meaning into the world."

You let his story hang in the air while you thought of your own tale. You could only hope you had made Simon feel the same way.

"When I… bought him," you felt gross saying it. "I didn't know much about androids. But after spending time with him, I knew he was so much more than what everyone tried to tell me. Just how… how beautiful of a person he was. He had to be more than that. I was excited to see him when I got home, to tell him about my day and to hear about his. He meant everything to me."

The android's tone was calm. "It sounds like you loved him."

You smiled to yourself, rubbing your hands together to warm them. "I still do," you responded, before the torrent of regrets washed over you like an unforgiving wave.

It had been such a dumb mistake. But even the simplest slip-ups can destroy lives.

You collapsed into sorrowful laughter, covering your face with a tense hand as you tried to hold back your overflowing emotions. "It was so stupid!" You exclaimed, lost in your own thoughts. "I… he needed repairs— his previous people were horrible… if I ever…"

You shook away the thought to get back on track.

"He… he needed skin repairs, so I thought it would be okay to go to a Cyberlife repair shop. But I didn't even think about whether they would check who his real 'owners' were," you spat. "When they found out how we had met, they were going to take him away. He had no choice but to run away. We were out of options."

The android was quiet, but you were too emotional to pay much attention.

"It was just one mistake! If I had just gone anywhere else… we could still be together." Your sorrow was brief before passion returned to your heart, directing your attention back to the metal door that was separating you and the android. "You have more androids with you, right? You don't have to tell me anything else, I just want to know if he's okay. His name is Simon. Have you met him? Please, tell me you have!"

Loud, metallic fumbling came from the other side of the door before it flung open. You scuttled backwards in alarm.

The blonde android nearly collapsed out of the doorway, his arm sliding off the door and onto the ground as held himself up to get a better look at you.

It was him.

He appeared troubled, but was fighting off a smile. "How… what are you doing here?" He whispered.

"S… Si…" you stuttered, unable to get out his name in case it separated you two again.

You snatched him up into your arms, enveloping him in a tight hug. He fumbled to return the gesture, letting his head rest on one of your shoulders.

"I… I can't believe it," you sobbed. "It's you! You're here! You're actually h-here!"

His hands gripped your clothing as if he was worried you would slip away. "But how are you here?" he asked, his voice shaking.

"I work here now," you choked out through a laugh. "What are the odds?"

"I can't believe this!" Simon fell into a bout of laughter himself. "I get to see you again!"

You knew that whatever lied ahead for the androids and humanity, nothing would separate you two again.

#dbh x reader #dbh simon x reader

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cora-vizsla · 3 years

Text

Hypnotic (Taking Over Me) - Chapter 4

Pairing: Eventual Jedi!OC x Sith!Obi Wan Word Count: 7.2 K

Story Rating: E (18+)

Chapter Rating: E due to some sexual themes and I’d rather be safe than sorry.

Warning: Swearing. Threats of violence. Cannon typical violence. They went to a party. There was only one bed. Kissing. Explicitly asking for consent because consent is sexy. Angst. Woo boy is there angst. Talking of unfavorable things that could happen to those kidnapped.

A/N: Please let me know if I missed any warnings!

They sat at the table together, silently eating breakfast. Zara wondered if she should feel bad for sleeping curled up with the Sith. She knew that it was survival but laying together talking for hours wasn’t. The thought of how angry and disgusted Master Windu would be with her actions was making her sick to her stomach.

Anakin often pulled Zara close when it was just the two of them. It felt natural with him since they had been connected since they were children. Nothing about it felt wrong and she told herself doing the same with Obi Wan was different because of who he was.

It didn’t feel different though. Maybe a little more intimate. Anakin didn’t trace the lines on her face or tuck her hair behind her ear. Even when he was physically close to her, there was still a distance. That’s the way it had to be.

That was the Jedi way.

Obi Wan didn’t have any interest in distance. He didn’t have a code telling him that physical closeness or attachment was wrong. There was nothing stopping him from pursuing what he wanted. He didn’t feel guilty because he had nothing to feel guilt over.

Zara almost let herself think that it must be nice. She almost wanted to resent the Jedi order for telling her that something so basic was wrong. She couldn’t let herself think it though. Over and over again, she told herself that the Jedi knew what was best and they were doing good in the galaxy. The light had to prevail. It was just hard to focus on that when the darkness was looking at her so affectionately.

“My master sent word to me today. I am expected at a social function in two days’ time.”

“Oh. How lucky for you. I guess It’s a good thing you have a sizable library. Not much else to do on this frozen tundra of a planet.”

“You could go with me.”

She looked up from her plate and saw he was looking at her intently.

“To a social function? Are you mad?”

“Perhaps a little. Depends on who you ask.”

“I can’t.. aren’t you afraid I’ll escape?”

“Not at all.”

She crossed her arms and sat back, raising her eyebrows at his answer.

“You do think I’m a fool, don’t you?”

He sighed and pushed his plate away gently before leaning forward onto the table.

“It’s self-serving to bring you. I need people to see that my Master is moving towards his goals. I also need my Master to see that I am moving towards my goals.”

“You aren’t.”

“He doesn’t need to know that. In fact, your survival depends on him not knowing that.”

“I still can’t believe you’re okay with lying to your Master.”

“And you’d go back and tell Windu that you were cuddled up to me all night?”

Zara opened her mouth to answer but shut it quickly. She grabbed a piece of her food and shoved it into her mouth to give her time to recover.

“I didn’t think so. Anyway, even though it is self-serving for me, it can also be an opportunity for you.”

“How so?”

“There may be people there that could get a message back to Anakin. That’s what you want, right? To keep him safe?”

“If they’re there as a Separatist, why would they help me? Wouldn’t they just tell your Master?”

“There are spies on both sides, darling. I happen to know a few. If you play along, I will help you get your message to the Skywalker boy.”

“You would do that? Why?”

He sat back and smirked.

“Because as much as I don’t want to turn you, you’re better off without the Jedi. They’re going to find out you were there regardless of what message gets to your friend. So, I guess the real question is, are you willing to risk your position within the Jedi to save Anakin?”

---

Zara followed Obi Wan into a beautiful building on a planet he refused to name. He didn’t make her wear a blindfold on any part of the trip, but there was no way he was going to give her more information than needed. She was wearing one of his black cloaks pulled down to hide her face and hair. Unless someone saw the bottom of her face, it wasn’t even possible to know she was human.

They walked up to a desk, so she kept herself a few paces behind him. There were a lot of moving parts to the entire trip, enough so that it gave her a headache. Once Obi Wan received his information and key, they head up on the lift to the correct floor.

“The event is here in a day. We will stay here until then.”

“Then we will go back to the planet?”

“Yes. Unless something changes.”

The walked down a long hallway until a door opened when he waved the chipped card in front of it. Zara was blown away by how beautiful it was. The windows allowed the natural light to flow through in a way she had never seen. Once the door was shut, she pulled her hood off and marveled at the beautiful architecture and furniture.

“May want to get used to this now. Can’t have them thinking you grew up in a temple.”

“I did grow up in a temple.”

“They don’t need to know that. They don’t need to know a thing about you. No until it’s beneficial.”

She looked over at him and nodded.

“Only one bed. I would offer to sleep on the floor, but the bed is bigger than the blankets we shared by the fire.”

Her face flushed but she nodded. He was right, the bed was huge. She slipped the cloak off and draped it gently over the chair next to her.

“Well, darling, I need to go meet with my Master. I must ask you to stay here. Do not open the door, not that I’ll leave it unlocked anyway, unless it’s the droid with our outfits for tomorrow.”

“Outfits?”

“Did you think you would be wearing a cloak and my robes to a social function?”

“I uh, I guess I never thought about it.”

He chuckled and walked over, pushing her hair back like he loved to do. He looked down at her with a softer version of the smirk he usually wore.

“Try to enjoy yourself. There is a real bath here. I made sure it had all the extras that your Jedi life has never let you experience.”

“Says the man who lived in a small home on a desolate planet.”

“Is it so bad I want to spoil you, sweetheart?”

“I think you need a lesson on how to treat prisoners.”

“Hmm. Perhaps you are right.”

He pressed a kiss to her forehead and turned before she could question him. Once he was gone, she looked around and decided not to indulge in anything. She couldn’t let herself get distracted and forget her mission.

---

Obi Wan returned sometime later and found Zara sleeping peacefully on the bed. She was still wearing the same robes. He sighed, realizing that she didn’t relax short of falling asleep. He moved around quietly until he heard her whimper. When he whipped around, he saw her face twisted up like it had the night he woke her from a nightmare. He knew he should just ask her, but the last time he tried to talk about it, they ended up fighting. Once he reached her, he gently placed his hand on her arm and spoke to her. She jumped awake, grabbing onto his wrist tightly.

“You’re alright, sweetheart. You were just having another nightmare.”

“Stars, you scared me.”

“Sorry. Didn’t want to leave you stuck in whatever is plaguing you.”

“Thanks.”

She sat up and rubbed at her eyes, trying to get the images out of her head.

“How long have you been back?”

“Not very long. It’s just about time to eat. Food should be here shortly. I see you didn’t make use of the luxuries of the room.”

“Didn’t feel right doing so.”

“You can’t show up not looking pampered. You need to care about your appearance for this.”

She sighed and shifted uncomfortably.

“I don’t really know how to do all of that. Up until a few years ago my hair was short. I never cared much about how I looked, just if what I was doing was practical for fighting.”

“That shouldn’t surprise me.”

Obi Wan walked confidently into the bathroom, disappearing behind the wall. Zara watched the doorway listening to the foreign sounds. When he walked back up, he motioned for her to come closer. She stepped into the room and saw a giant tub filled with water and bubbles.

“Have you seen a tub before?”

“Only in books and holovids.”

“Relax for a while. I won’t come in, so you don’t need to worry about being modest. Although once you get in, no one will be able to see any part of you not under the water. Once you are done, there is a robe hanging on the far wall you can use. We don’t have anything to do this evening so take your time and relax. I will let you know when dinner is ready.”

She stood leaning against the counter and looking at everything. The temple wasn’t a slum by any means, but no Jedi that she ever knew had even seen a real bath in person. She looked up when Obi Wan moved directly in front of her, placing his hands on her shoulders.

“I can see your guilt, sweetheart. Calm your mind. This is part of your obligation to pass along a message. I won’t let you go down to the event not looking the part. Don’t make me throw you in there.”

He gave her a soft smile before leaving the room. With a sigh, she pulled her clothes off and slipped into the hot water. Regardless of how she felt, she couldn’t stop the sigh when her body was settled into the heat around her. She slid down to the back of her head was resting on the side.

The water smelled wonderful. It was a far cry from the quick showers she had taken at Obi Wan’s house. Even those made her feel guilty. She didn’t often get to use real water and there she was relaxing in an exuberant amount of it.

“Please don’t feel guilty. Think of it as a form of torture if you must.”

Zara jumped but saw Obi Wans shoulder peeking out from the doorframe.

“Are you sitting by the door?”

“I gave you my word I wouldn’t come in.”

She smiled to herself and relaxed back into the heat.

“It’s hard not to feel guilty.”

“That was one thing I never understood with the Jedi. Why should anyone feel guilt for feeling comfort? Sounds a bit self-righteous to be honest.”

“It isn’t our job to feel comfort. It’s our job to do what we must to protect the galaxy and keep the light strong.”

“How do you know something is light without the darkness?”

“I-“

Not wanting to admit that he was right, Zara fell silent.

“I’m not trying to turn you. I find comfort in the dark especially after everything I’ve been through. Just as much as there is no light without dark, there is no dark without light. I don’t hate the light.”

“Just the Jedi.”

“Yes.”

“Tell me more.”

“What?”

She saw him shift slightly in the doorway out of surprise.

“If I’m going to go with you tomorrow and be around people who don’t like the Jedi or the Republic, I need to know what you think. I doubt a silent meek apprentice is what you would like to present.”

“You wouldn’t.. why don’t you relax for a while and then we can talk?”

“No. How about we talk now. I wouldn’t what?”

He sighed and turned so he was more in the doorway but still had himself facing away from the tub. She sat up, leaning forward so her chest was still covered. She could feel him worried and trying to shove his emotions down.

“Obi Wan, what aren’t you telling me?”

“No one thinks that you are my apprentice. Nor would you be my apprentice were you to come to the dark side. You likely would become a conduit for Anakins passion.”

Zara narrowed her eyes at him as her rage started to build.

“They think that you’re corrupting me so I can become Anakin’s concubine?”

“I think that word is a bit harsh. I’m sure he would call you.. wife or something of the sort.”

“And just how do they think you are corrupting me?”

He carded his hand down his face, stopping to hold onto his well-kept beard.

“Zara, there are people on both sides of the force that have done and will do terrible things. There are others that I know that would not have been so kind or considerate of a beautiful woman being at their mercy. They wouldn’t have taken your feelings or worth as a powerful force user into consideration. You would have been an assignment and one that they would have taken what they wanted from. They certainly wouldn’t be sitting so they couldn’t even look at you to ensure you felt more secure in your surroundings.”

Zara took a few calming breaths, willing herself to focus. The Jedi never spoke much of how women would be treated differently were they to be taken, but she knew the truth of the matter.

“Your Master doesn’t want me as a force user. He wants me as a way to control Anakin.”

“He wanted you dead. I convinced him this would be a better choice.”

“You decided this!?”

“I already told you, I didn’t want to kill you.”

Zara stood up and stepped out of the tub, yanking a towel off the counter. Once she was covered, she stomped over to Obi Wan, who was now standing.

“What exactly about me screams that I will fall victim to any of that? I won’t let your Master hurt Anakin and I sure as hell won’t be part of that manipulation. I am more than being a woman. I am not a body to use or take. I was never insulted when you took me or used my compassion for my men against me. That was smart. However, for any of you to think that I will just parade myself around and let anyone use me for their personal gain is the most insulting thing I have ever heard.”

Obi Wan grabbed her arms tightly, careful not to hurt her, and pressed her up against the wall quickly. He moved so fast she hadn’t even realized it was happening. He caged her in like he had at the house, radiating anger and pain.

“How dare you accuse me of such. Everything I have done thus far has been done to protect you. I brought you to this kriffing event to give you a chance to talk to your precious Anakin.”

“You brought me here to show your master you’re a good boy. Let’s parade around the pretty little Jedi thinking I would fall for a handsome smile and a shred of decency.”

“Even though you are incredibly lucky it is me pinning you to this wall, you’re still pushing your luck sweetheart.”

“You don’t scare me, Veth.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, Jedi. You see, I know your weaknesses. You wouldn’t be swayed by fear. You’re swayed by emotion. If I wanted to hurt you, I’d just make you feel something with your cold little heart.”

“You could never make me feel anything, Sith!”

He laughed darkly and bent forward, staring directly into her eyes.

“You underestimate me. I’m not your little boy toy Skywalker that would fawn over you and accept when you shut yourself off. You are capable of feeling; of loving. It would just destroy you. You pretend like you’re such a good little Jedi by staying shut off and cold. Just like your Master. Oh, but what better way to break the little knight than to have her on her knees begging for my love.”

“I’d never beg for anything from you. Never. If Anakin, my best friend in the entire galaxy, couldn’t get me to feel that kind of love then how the hell do you think it would be possible for you to accomplish that? I don’t know what happened to you, Veth. I don’t know why your heart is so broken that you fell to the darkness, but don’t presume that I am that weak.”

“Weak? Oh, darling, no. Weakness is clinging to false sentiments of superiority for the sake of seeming infallible. Weakness is pretending like you aren’t human when you very much so are.”

“I will never fall for you, Veth. I will never feel anything for you but contempt and pity.”

His hand snapped up to grab her chin, grinning at her ferally.

“Only a Sith deals in absolutes, darling. Looks like you’re already halfway there.”

Zara snarled and ripped away from him, shoving him back far enough to escape back into the bathroom.

“Hurry up and pull yourself together. It’s almost time to eat. You’ll need your strength if you’re going to keep pretending that you’re better than everyone else.”

---

After begrudgingly eating with Obi Wan, Zara took to sitting on the balcony. She was frustrated and wanting nothing more than to bolt. She knew it wouldn’t end well. The Sith still had her saber and from what she had seen he was incredibly powerful.

She was torn somewhere between hating him and finding comfort in his presence. He was right that most wouldn’t have been as considerate or kind towards her. Not that the bar was very high, not trying to assault her was definitely a plus.

No, there had been times when he was kind to her. He wasn’t just taking from her. He was giving her a chance at accomplishing something that not only meant a lot to her but put him at great risk. There was no denying his darkness, but he was making her question, again, if darkness meant bad.

“I can hear your thoughts all the way in there. You aren’t very good at shielding.”

She jumped slightly when she heard him behind her but quickly calmed.

“Not even trying. No point in it. Why waste the energy.”

“I have not tried to dig into your mind.”

“I know you haven’t. I’m not accusing you of such.”

“Do you shield around Anakin?”

“Yes.”

He hummed and moved forward, sitting in the chair next to hers.

“Why is that?”

“Any time he sees me feeling a certain way he just wants to fix it. It’s easier if he doesn’t know what I’m feeling most of the time.”

“Protecting him even from yourself. Interesting. You do an awful lot for a man you swear you don’t love.”

“I do love him. Just not in the way you’re inferring.”

“Why not? Why can’t you just let yourself feel Zara? I would think letting yourself love someone that is already so dear to you would be safe.”

“There is nothing safe about loving Anakin.”

“Do you mean that? Or is it there is nothing safe about loving in general. You love your men. You love your Jedi. Why can’t you let it go further than that?”

“I’d never be a Master. That is my goal. It’s everything that I want. Nothing is more important to me. Call me foolish all you want; that is what matters to me.”

“Come here.”

Zara looked at him with confusion until he pat his leg. She raised her eyebrows and he laughed motioning for her to move to him. She stood and tentatively walked to him until she was close enough for him to pull her onto his lap.

“In a cycle we will need to act like we are physically close to each other. May as well get used to it now. Treat it like a mission. Let them all think you’re safe to speak to. That’s the only way you’ll get to Anakin.”

She nodded and let herself relax into him. His arm was wrapped tightly around her waist and the other hand was resting lightly on her thigh.

“I don’t say this to hurt you. Keep that in mind, yes?”

She nodded again and watched him carefully.

“Do you really think the Jedi will understand why you came with me? Of all the master’s they have, I can only name one that may accept that the clones are more than an expendable resource. Not only that, but they also can’t be happy about how close you are to Anakin.”

“They aren’t. The only Master that shares my sentiment about the clones to the extent that I do is Master Koon. He sees them as his family.”

“As do you.”

She nodded again giving him a small smile.

“They all mean the world to me. I feel every loss deep in my soul.”

“Do you feel all of them in the force?”

“Yes. Obviously, I can feel force users much more strongly. I feel them though. They’re all so different even though outwardly they look the same. The other Jedi have admitted as much but they’re more concerned with the war.”

“See? You do feel love. You don’t let yourself feel it in a romantic way, but you risked everything for your men and Anakin. You truly think they would let you be a Jedi Master feeling that much compassion?”

“Plo Koon is a Jedi Master.”

“And how serious do they take him? Is he the one making decisions or is he the one sent out on missions?”

“He.. They respect him. He has earned his place within the order. It doesn't matter if he's different than the rest of them.”

“Oh, sweetheart, you truly believe that. Forget being naïve about the Jedi, you’re naïve to even the way the galaxy works. People who are soft don’t make it without being hurt.”

“Is that what happened to you?”

She snapped at him, hoping her words would hurt him. Instead, his face fell as he looked deep into her eyes.

“Yes. That is exactly what happened to me. I loved too deeply and trusted too easily. Now I’m here. Ironically, that’s what brought you to this exact place as well.”

---

“Alright Zara, are you almost ready? We need to make our entrance.”

Zara stepped forward having just finished getting ready. Obi Wan stood in front of her in crisp black clothes that seemed much more suiting for a formal event. His hair was pushed back perfectly, and he had cleaned up his beard. She gave him a soft smile and nodded, running her hands down the skirt of the extravagant dress he had given her to put on.

“I feel rather silly wearing this if I’m being honest.”

Obi Wan appraised her with a small smirk playing on his lips. The dress had been a custom ask of his, ensured that the black would be the exact shade of his own clothes. It plunged down showing off the soft skin between her breasts and just the top of her abdomen. It was tight enough up top she didn’t need to worry about moving and the long sleeves clung to her like it was made for her.

He laughed to himself that it had been made for her.

The dress clung to her hips then flared out, flowing out into multiple layers. He motioned for her to spin so she did slowly, letting him see the way the back was open save of some pieces of fabric that wove together to keep the dress tightly against her. When she faced him again, he reached forward and toyed with her hair that was now curled flowing around her.

“You look stunning, darling. I have one more thing for you though.”

He picked up a box off the small stand near them and opened it, showing the intricate necklace to her. She looked at it and gently touched the stone, pulling her hand back when she felt how strong the force was within in.

“It’s a kyber crystal. I stumbled upon it and thought it would look stunning resting on your chest.”

He pulled it from the box and motioned for her to turn around. When she did, she pulled her hair to the side, allowing him access to the back of her neck. He gently clipped it as it rests against her skin. She inhaled sharply at the power emanating from it as it began to glow.

“It looks.. it looks like..”

He moved closer, pressing himself to her back. He wrapped one arm around her waist, pulling her closer as the other toyed with the crystal on her chest.

“Like what, sweetheart?”

She shut her eyes, desperately trying to calm herself down.

“Oh, darling, don’t act so coy with me. We’ve been together for quite some time now. Do I still take your breath away?”

It occurred to her that he was acting the way that he would need to around everyone else. She told herself that was the only reason he was so close to her. There was no way he would actually want to be. With a deep breath, she willed herself to calm down and melt into him.

“It looks just like your eyes, Lord Veth.”

He hummed and leaned forward, letting his lips graze across her pulse point.

“That’s a good girl. You catch on quickly.”

“Let’s go. We’re already late enough.”

He chuckled and pulled himself from her, putting his arm out for her to take. She placed her hand on his elbow and walked confidently, hoping that there was some way that Anakin could be warned.

---

It was almost too easy for her to act the way she needed to. When they walked into the ballroom, mostly everyone turned to look at them. Obi Wan smirked down at her before turning forward to walk inside. She let her hips sway just a little more and ignored everyone but him.

At least that’s what everyone else thought. Secretly she was looking at everyone around them. It was hard to figure out who was who, but she held tight onto the idea that someone would help her get a message out.

“Lord Veth! It is so good to see you again!”

“The pleasure is mine, I assure you. When Lord Sideous let me know that I would be coming in his stead, I was pleased to know you were running this event.”

“We are happy to have you as our guest of honor. And who is this? This can’t be the pretty little thing Lord Sideous has been telling us about. No wonder why you’ve kept her squirreled away!”

“This is my darling Zara. I have begrudgingly brought her into the public eye. I’ve been so selfish getting to keep her all to myself.”

He hooked his finger playfully under her chin, leaning forward to kiss her cheek. She fluttered her lashes at him and leaned against his arm.

“I don’t blame you! I would keep a woman of her beauty and grace locked away too! Please do let me know if need anything.”

Obi Wan nodded and let Zara towards the focal point of the room. She inwardly grimaced when she noticed that it looked like a throne.

“Just play the game, darling.”

Once he sat down, he took her hand and pulled her closer, helping her sit on his lap sideways. He sat with his legs spread, commanding the room in a way she never could fully understand. Once she was seated on him, she was able to hear him talk without anyone else listening in. His words didn’t exactly match his body language, but she understood what he was doing. She felt clinical in the way she melted into him with his arm wrapped around her waist.

“There is a certain image they expect of me. Play the game and things go correctly.”

“I understand. I guess I know that feeling.”

“Yes, you do. That’s why you’re at ease now. Different game, same moves.”

She noticed that people were looking at the two of them, so she gave him a smile and started toying with the front of his shirt. He focused his attention on her and smirked.

“Hmm, perhaps not though. Unless you often sit on Jedi laps like this. If so, I missed that part of the training.”

“Just doing what I have to, Lord Veth. Tell me, who should I be trying to get a message to?”

“Well, the man who greeted us to begin with I’m sure has already spoken with not only my Master but at least one Jedi Master.”

“Really? Why?”

“He’s wealthy. He wants to ensure that no matter who wins, he stays that way. That is why I used your real name instead of an alias.”

“Wait but.. so, they will know that I am here with you.”

“Sitting on my lap looking rather stricken. A Sith’s arm wrapped around your waist as you toy with the front of his shirt. Oh, how the rumors will spread about you, especially once word gets out that you’re a Jedi Knight. How scandalous.”

She glared at him before plastering a fake smile on her face again.

“As long as I end up getting a message to Anakin, it will be worth it. I know the truth and the counsel will see that.”

“If you say so, darling.”

He pulled her closer and chuckled at the annoyed huff she gave him in return. He toyed with the necklace resting on her skin while he looked out at the crowd. Zara wanted to look at everyone but didn’t want to show how eager she was to find someone else.

“Lord Veth, I am so glad to see you here tonight.”

Zara focused in on the woman standing in front of them. She was pretty and absolutely knew it. She felt Obi Wans thumb rub against her a few times where the mystery woman couldn’t see, and she instantly got the hint.

“Well, hello there. What can I do for you?”

She grinned at him and shot Zara a quick fake smile.

“I was hoping that I would be able to garner your attention for a little while. Unless you’re too busy?”

“Of course not!”

He gently pushed Zara to her feet and stood up, brushing past her. She watched the two of them walk away, the woman instantly all over him. She wasn’t sure what to say or do but she couldn’t imagine that in a genuine situation she would be happy. She caught herself feeling something about the woman being all over him but pushed it away quickly.

Go to the balcony. Make it dramatic. Your contact will find you out there easily.

Zara set her jaw and stormed away from the throne like chair, causing a bit of a scene. Everyone moved out of her way, watching as she flew out of the room. She could feel Obi Wans amusement as she went to the balcony and waited.

---

“Zara? Zara Fross?”

She turned to see a young woman walking towards her. Her dress was on the extravagant side, but it seemed to suit her.

“Yes.”

“I thought that was you. My name is Padme, though you may know me as Senator Amidala.”

“What is a fierce proponent for the Republic doing at a Separatist sympathizers party?”

“I am from Naboo. We tend to have the luxury of being trusted by many. It allows me to get information others may not have access to.”

Zara turned back towards the balcony, looking out at the nature around them. Padme joined her, allowing both of them to speak without anyone seeing their faces.

“You don’t need to dance around me, Senator. I didn’t betray the council.”

“I was rather surprised when I saw you here. Everyone is on high alert with you being gone.”

“Would it be safe to send you with a message?”

“Of course. I can go directly to the Jedi Council.”

“Lord Veth took me when he threatened killing my entire team. Whoever his master is, he wants Anakin Skywalker. They must keep him on the straight path and in the light. I need him to understand that I didn’t leave him. I didn’t take off. I’m doing this to keep him safe and the moment I can get back I will.”

“Is he hurting you?”

“No. He’s.. surprisingly fair. Right now, Anakin is in much more danger than I am.”

Zara looked down when Padme placed her hand on hers.

“Are you sure there isn’t more I can do? Have you gotten any information that could help?”

Zara hesitated but shook her head.

“No. You’re doing more than enough. Thank you.”

“Please stay safe, General Fross.”

They both turned when footsteps rang out. Obi Wan was giving Zara a feral smile and Padme visibly tensed.

“Senator Amidala! Thank you so much for keeping my little dove company.”

“Lord Veth. If you’ll excuse me.”

He watched Padme walk past him before stepping forward, tracing his fingers across her jawline.

“Did you accomplish your mission, sweetheart?

“Surprised to see you out here so soon. Figured you would have made use of the room.”

“Oh, dear are you jealous?”

She scoffed and crossed her arms.

“What in the makers name would I have to be jealous over? You’re the one who told me to come out here.”

“I did. I didn’t expect you to be so vexed when I left with her though.”

“Vexed? I was just standing there. Who you spend your time with hardly concerns me. I’ve accomplished what I came here to do. Nothing else matters.”

“You’re so cute when you lie to yourself.”

“Stars you’re insufferable sometimes, Obi Wan.”

“I’m not the one calling you by a different name when we’re alone.”

“What?”

“You could have called me Obi Wan. You very easily could have alerted the council as to who I am. Yet you didn’t. You didn’t correct her when she called me Lord Veth.”

“That’s who you are.”

“Yet you know the council wants to know my true identity. I had already prepared for you telling them. You can lie to yourself all you want, Zara. I see right through all of it.”

“There is nothing to see through.”

“Look me right in the eyes and tell me that you feel absolutely nothing for me.”

She stepped forward and glared.

“I feel nothing for you.”

“Liar.”

“Go find someone else to bother. I won’t fawn over you like the other women will. Actually, why don’t I just go now? You can have the room all to yourself and do whatever and whoever you want.”

“You aren’t going anywhere without me.”

Zara started walking past him to head back inside. Obi Wan grabbed her arm and spun her back to him. She gasped when she crashed into him and his arms wrapped around her.

“How rude you are, little Jedi. I risk myself for you and this is how you repay me? What are you so afraid of, little dove?”

“I’m afraid of nothing.”

Zara shrugged out of his arms and took a step back, trying to get distance between the two of them. Obi Wan didn’t let it happen. With every step back, he took one forward. Zara gasped when her back met the wall and Obi Wan pressed himself against her. Her ran his finger across her jaw and looked into her eyes.

“You are afraid of me, darling. You’re terrified of me. You’re terrified of how my kindness makes you feel. You’re so afraid you’re unable to admit how much your body sings when I touch you. I can see your wall being thrown up the moment I get close. Why is that?”

“Y-you’re vile.”

“Perhaps. At least I’m not a liar.”

“I’m not a liar, Veth.”

“No? Prove it to me.”

“How the hell can I prove that to you?”

“Let me kiss you. If you feel absolutely nothing when I do, I’ll leave you alone. If you can truthfully look me in the eyes and tell me that you felt nothing, I’ll believe you. Your honor is important to you. Let’s see how strong that conviction is.”

Zara set her jaw and forced her breath to stay steady. She chanted over and over that he meant nothing and there was no way she could ever feel anything but contempt towards him. He was the enemy. A Sith! She finally nodded once, and he chuckled deeply.

“Do I have your consent, Zara?”

She nodded and he shook his head.

“Use your words, love.”

“Yes.”

“Yes?”

“Stars, Obi Wan. Yes, you have my consent to kiss me.”

“Good girl.”

He leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers. She had heard of the idea of sparks but thought it was all bullshit. It had to be bullshit. There was no way that this Sith pressing his lips to hers was stealing her breath. She refused to admit that when he cupped the side of her face and deepened the kiss, her body melted into his. It couldn’t be possible that the smallest airiest moan was swallowed up by his all-consuming presence and touch.

He was right though. Her honor and pride couldn’t let her lie. She could lie to herself and hold herself back all day any day. But looking him in the eyes and telling him that she felt nothing would have been a lie. When he pulled his mouth away, he kept it close to hers. His breath fanned out across her face and he was breathing just as hard as she was.

“Tell me you feel nothing. Tell me that not even one part of you enjoyed that. Tell me you don’t feel a damn thing, Zara.”

“I.. I can’t do that. Even if I wanted to lie to you.. I respect you, Obi Wan. I respect you enough that I barely even hate you.”

“There is a very thin line between love and hate, Zara. And either mean that you feel something.”

“Do you ever shut up?”

“Yes.”

He crashed his lips against hers again with much more enthusiasm. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and ran her fingers through his hair. She inhaled sharply when his hands tightened on her hips as he pressed himself against her. Right when she was beginning to forget who she was kissing and whose hands were holding her so tightly, she heard her name.

“Zara?”

Obi Wan kept himself pressed against her but broke the kiss to look over his shoulder with a feral smirk.

“Seems like we have an audience, darling.”

He shifted his body just enough that Zara could see a very confused Anakin looking at her.

“What the hell are you doing to her? Get away from her!”

“I can assure you, Anakin, I had consent. What is it with Jedi and thinking I’m that uncivilized?”

He turned so he was facing Anakin but still partially shielding Zara. She wanted to push him aside, but she saw what he was looking at. Her best friend was clutching his saber so tightly he was shaking. She wouldn’t trust any enemy that tense either.

“Anakin, how did you find me?”

“I’ve been searching for you for days! I was told that this Veth would be here.”

“Does the counsel know you’re here?”

“Of course not. They told me to stand down.”

Zara stepped forward and Obi Wan grabbed her wrist, stopping her.

“It’s okay. He isn’t going to hurt me.”

“Remember our agreement, Jedi.”

She nodded so he let her go. She took another step forward and Anakin scowled at them.

“Agreement? What the hell is this. Do you know how hard it was to get this information? Then I show up and he’s.. what were you doing!?”

“Anakin, listen to me. You are in danger. I need you to-“

“Answer me!”

Zara took another step forward, only for Anakin to step backwards.

“Anakin. I came here to get a message to you. I told Senator Amidala what is going on so she could tell the counsel. You are in danger. You must listen to counsel. Please.”

“Why should I listen to a word you have to say? I’ve been sick with worry for you. Did he even take you or are you here because you want to be?”

“Of course, he took me! He threatened to kill my men.”

“You’re more valuable than a bunch of-“

“Don’t you dare say it, Anakin. Don’t you dare say that their lives don’t matter. You know how much it hurts me when they hurt. You know me.”

“Do I? Do I actually know you? You gave yourself over to this filth to save clones. Then I show up and you’re dressed like some escort to this Sith? You hardly look like you’re captive to me.”

“How dare you. You’ve known me since I was a child. How could you think so low of me?”

“What am I supposed to think! He just had his tongue shoved down your throat!”

“How crass.”

Zara glanced over at Obi Wan who had his arms crossed, looking bored.

“What? It was. Hardly a way to talk to a woman let alone his friend. You deserve better than him, darling.”

“Shut up! What right do you have to say anything to her or me?”

“Don’t be rude, Ani. You’ve always been quite the little shit.”

“You don’t know me.”

“Oh, but I do. I know how you cried for your mum instead of being grateful for the chance to be more than a slave. I know how you whined every time you had to do anything. You’ve always been an insufferable little brat and that has not changed.”

“Who the hell-“

“Obi Wan, stop. You aren’t making anything better.”

Anakin had a look of horror wash over his face as he stared at the Sith.

“Obi Wan? No. No you died.”

“I obviously did not. Not that it mattered. The Jedi got their chosen one. I hardly mattered after that.”

He stood up taller and reached his hand out for Zara.

“I’ve grown bored of this uncivilized arguing. We are needed inside. Let’s go, darling.”

“She isn’t going anywhere with you!”

“Oh, she is. She gave me her word. Isn’t that right, Zara?”

She looked between the two and finally settled on Anakin.

“He’s right. I gave him my word. I am only here because I knew I’d be able to get a message to you. That was my mission. Go back to the counsel, Anakin. I can’t go with you. Not.. not right now.”

“Unbelievable. You’re choosing him over me?”

“I’m doing all of this for you, Ani. Listen to Padme. Listen to the counsel. Please.”

“I’ll never forgive you for this, Zara. You’ve betrayed everything you stand for.”

She turned and heard Anakin jump from the balcony. She gritted her teeth and waited for Obi Wan to lead her back inside.

“Do you need a minute?”

“No. You kept your word. Now I will keep mine.”

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imagine-always-and-forever · 3 years

Text

Flutterings & Tequila - Part 13

A Klaus Mikaelson Imagine

Pairing: Niklaus Mikaelson x Reader

Summary: you’ve decided to go clubbing with your best friend the last summer before college starts to take your mind off of the Mikaelsons who have invaded your life this summer. Specifically, you’re trying to distract yourself from Niklaus Mikaelson and the flutterings he has caused you. Tequila is your friend tonight.

Part Summary: Clue hunting.

Warnings: typical stuff you’d see in the show

Word count: 3,115

Tags: elle88531, violentmommabear42, pisicakawritesshitatfour, a-quarter-horse-called-biscuit, hoeofnjadaka, thegingerthatwaited, despressolattes, aomi-nabi, pie46733, (let me know if you want to be tagged or I missed you out on the tag list!)

Authors note: so I’ve been saying I’d get back to this for ages. I know. But truthfully I hit such a brick wall that writer’s block as a concept had to add another tier to it’s existence just for me. Thankfully, for no clear reason whatsoever, it poofed away as some strong desire to write this again came to me after work. So... tada? Also I am sorry but so so many of you asked to be tagged (I’m very flattered!!!) that I think I’m missing a bunch of people. If I missed you send me a message and I’ll add you to the list. Enjoy 😊

You’re trembling slightly as you walk down your stairs, breath coming out shakily as you try to calm yourself down. You had 24 hours to find out at least something about what the Mikaelsons were doing here. 24 hours and no clue where to start.

Through the back window you could see Klaus and Elijah making their way out of the guest house. Their expressions were drawn and Klaus had a small black bag clutched in his hand. Your eyes darted to the door to the house. Were you that stupid?

The fact that your feet were already moving you forward gave you a clear yes, but at least you could report back to Josie that you did, despite her belief, have some sort of self-preservation. It was just a really fucked up kind.

The door to the guest house opened with ease. Of course the Mikaelsons didn’t think to lock it. What was the point? Who would try to get in to their home without their permission and who would live to tell the tale?

Well, hopefully you.

The painting supplies were still right where you left them. Your eyes swept across the room in front of you, cataloging what you saw. You’d helped Josie redecorate last summer, but it looked like the Mikaelsons took it upon themselves to do some of their own renovations. It was a little bit embarrassing how little of the place you’d payed attention to when you were here with Klaus.

They’d rearranged half the furniture for gods sake and you hadn’t noticed at all. With a frown on your face, you examined the new layout of the room. You wondered what prompted the rearrangement. The couches being moved about made sense to give Klaus extra space for his easels. But what was the purpose of switching the office area with the dining room?

The office, which you were truthfully rather proud of last summer, looked like Elijah’s doing. Two bookcases now sandwiched in the desk against what was supposed to be the accent wall of the room. Not a single bit of the pop of color on the wall was visible now. The imposing set up didn’t even look touched. You could feel your eyebrows tense as they tried to furrow further with your deepened confusion. Dust collected across the books on their shelves. You swiped a finger through it. Coated.

It surprised you that Elijah wasn’t as much of a neat freak about his environment as he was abou his appearance. Though, you suspected if he was he’d have spent most of his millennia+ on earth cleaning up after his siblings. You snorted to yourself. Didn’t he already do that?

A blank space on one of the shelves drew your eye. Amongst a sea of books and paperweights, a patch of dustless real estate on an otherwise packed bookcase stared back at you. If those Nancy Drew books you read as a child had taught you anything, that prominent rectangle of empty space meant that something had been moved. And recently.

That, you smiled to yourself, was a lead.

A scan of the desk and the rest of the shelves confirmed that whatever it was hadn’t simply been reorganized. You pulled open the drawers of the heavy oak desk. Pens, paperclips, highlighters, sticky notes, stapler, hole punch, scissors, and more pens. No. Notebooks, empty folders, the coffee maker’s instructional guide. No. Empty space with a single pen cap rolling around. No.

A dead end.

You got down on your knees. The floor was clean. Under the couches, too. The ottoman with the lift up storage option, empty. The side tables small draw with it’s tendency to stick (a single missing screw from Ikea can really screw your building abilities), empty. You moved to the TV console, frustration building.

Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.

You checked the shelves. You were too short to reach the top ones but the Mikaelsons weren’t. You grabbed a chair and stepped up. It was in vain. Careful to put it back as you’d found it, you moved the chair in defeat. You checked the kitchen. Drawers and cupboard were empty. The fruit salad in the fridge seemed to judge you and you sighed. You didn’t expect it to be in the fridge but it was almost eight at night and you’d torn the downstairs of this house a part.

The Mikaelsons could be back any minute and you’d found nothing. What if there was nothing? Had you wasted hours of your short time frame on trying to find something that didn’t exist?

It dawned on you that Klaus’s little black bag just might have –

A groan escaped your lips. What a colossal waste of time. Time that to you did not have to waste. You closed the fridge, head coming down to lean on the cool stainless steel door in defeat. Maybe there was a clue you could find back in the main house. Josie’s room might have something that you could give Jess.

With a deep breath, you straightened up. No point in giving up until Jess’s voice was ordering you to kill yourself. Josie would expect nothing less from you, and in truth, so do you.

As you walked through the house to the door you passed by one of the many shelves you checked and just like in one of those long rumored witch’s intuition stories, something pulled your eye to it once again. Something pulled your eye directly to an unassuming wooden framed photo that you didn’t register as new. So, something you’d had to have seen a million times by now, surely. But why then did it feel so very important to look at it?

You walked over, cautious of this intense urge in your blood. It was often hard to tell with magical urges if something was for good intent or bad.

The photo was in black and white. A little girl sat on a dock, one tooth missing right in the front. A man in an ornate three piece suit that had to predate the Georgian era stood by her, looking out of place but pleased with himself. Beside him was a boy that looked around your age. He was scowling in the photo. In his had he held something tightly, as if he would die if it were ever lost to him. Your eyes scanned the photo back and forth, that feeling still present. What was it? What were you supposed to see?

The background of the photo was just water. A lake most likely. There were no lakes here. Where were they? Who were they? You leaned in to get a closer look. The photo quality was bad and it wasn’t until you looked hard that you realized it wasn’t a photo at all. A painting. A small, incredibly detailed painting.

Klaus?

But no. How? You knew this painting wasn’t unfamiliar to you. You also knew that some how you had never noticed it. How could you go so long seeing something so often, convinced it was just a photo of something unimportant?

Almost like magic. Why would anybody spell this little painting with an unnotable spell? More specifically, why did Josie (because it had to be her) cast this spell when you were the only other person than her to see it? You didn’t have guests usually. It was why you had been so surprised when she had announced the renovation of the guest house last summer.

The moment the skin on your fingers touched the painting’s surface, a vision clear as an actual photo slammed into your mind’s eye. Blinded by the image, nothing existed but it and you were enraptured what you saw.

It was the exact image that had been painted, but the details were sharp. You could see the threads of the man’s suit. The pours of the little girl. The splintered wood of the old dock. Everything of the moment preserved perfectly in a snapshot.

There was no sound. You felt nothing from the scene. This was not a vision of the past that let you experience the moment with those in it. You could see the wind sweeping through the girl’s locks but you couldn’t feel a thing. This was the scene of the painter through the painter’s very eyes.

But who’s eyes? And who were these people?

You looked focused on their faces. The little girl’s slightly downturned nose and her rounded jaw clicked in your mind as your eyes rested on her’s. Josie. A young Josie. This made sense. This was a memory Josie had that she wanted to keep private. But why? And why keep the painting if she wanted it secret? The man beside her was probably her father, right?

As your eyes shifted to his features and they sharpened into view for you, Josie’s body blurred away. No, you realized. That was not Josie’s father. Though you had never met the man or seen his photo before, you knew this was not him. Because this was Elijah Mikaelson.

At least it made sense now how they knew Josie. Old friends indeed. But what on earth was Elijah doing standing on a dock on some lake with a Josie when she was a child and a boy? As your eyes darted to the boy, the change of the image didn’t surprise you. Josie and Elijah blurred and he came into focus.

Despite not having known him for as long or studying his face too much, it was clear by his eyes that you were staring at a teenage Jess.

You gasped and were ripped from the image.

Around you, the guest house came back into view. In your hands, clutched tightly, was the photo. Your heart rate was up and you didn’t know when you had started to breath so quickly or so hard. You blinked your dry eyes. Josie, Jess, and Elijah?

The sound of wheels pulling up on the gravel drive had your head shooting up. They were back. You didn’t have time to get to the house and though beautiful, Josie’s flower filled garden didn’t actually give you much cover to hide. Without a second thought, you dashed up the stairs.

The bathroom door was open and from downstairs, it was easy to see. Too obvious someone was here. The bedroom beside it was locked and you didn’t have time to find the spare key somewhere on top of the door. The closet next to it was too small with the vacuum in it. It wouldn’t do. You spun around, unsure how close the Mikaelsons were and if they were listening.

The other bedrooms had their doors open. Shit. Too suspicious. One door, directly across from the stairs remained. Could you even make it before they opened the door?

You didn’t have a choice. The handle to the room jiggled and the door clicked open. You slipped inside and went to close it as gently as possible when the front door opened. You froze. The door was still a jar. They’d notice if for sure.

“Well that was fun,” Kol sighed and you heard him flop onto the couch.

“It wasn’t supposed to be fun,” Rebekah huffed and her heels clicked on the floor as she made her way through the house.

“Drink?” Elijah asked nobody in particular.

“I’m going to bed,” Rebekah said with a short tone and you almost squeaked in fear as you realized she was starting up the stairs.

“Don’t be so dramatic, sister!” Kol called after her.

“You’re a reckless idiot without a scrap of self-control,” she seethed back.

“It’s not like he actually liked you,” Kol scoffed.

Something expensive sounding shattered followed by Kol’s laugh.

“May I remind you that this is not our home?” Elijah’s calm voice of reason came.

You waited with baited breath for something to happen next. If Kol could get one more quip in to make Rebekah break something else you could use the distraction to close the door properly.

“What happened?” Klaus said, evidently just entering the house.

“I’m going to bed,” Rebekah stated and you closed your eyes as a curse tried to come out of your lips.

“Sister,” Klaus stopped her and his voice was much closer now. He was on the stairs with her, you guessed. “You cannot get angry every time one of your many suitors gets eaten by our brother. You know how he is,” he explained in a hushed voice with a taunt.

Something smashed against the wall again.

“KOL,” Elijah reprimanded.

A thud sounded against the wall and you reached for the door, ready to close it if another opportunity struck.

“Enough property damage,” Klaus told his brother.

“It was her fault anyway. You know it,” Kol argued.

“I was getting him to trust me,” Rebekah’s voice was further away. She must have joined her brothers down stairs again.

“And that involved opening your legs for him, did it?”

You knew it was coming so as Rebekah jumped to attack her brother, you ceased the moment to shut the door. The soft click would be lost to them as they tried to pull their sister and brother apart.

The room you were in hadn’t been touched since the renovation. You walked over to the window to see if there was any feasible way down.

“Deal with it,” Klaus’s voice came from just outside the door.

You whipped around, eyes wide, as you realized they solved the little dispute far faster than you thought they would. You dropped to the ground as you heard Elijah reply to his brother. The door clicked open as you lifted the duvet and scooted yourself as quietly as possible under the bed.

Luckily, Klaus’s instructions invoked a lot of opinions from his siblings. He stood in the doorway and barked out orders at them. Something else was thrown. As you spelled your breath silent, you spared a thought for all the things you’d have to replace by the time the Mikaelsons moved out.

Klaus shut the door with a harsh thud and switched on the light by the bed. You squeezed your eyes shut at the sheer bad luck you had that this of all the rooms was his.

Klaus moved around the room, silent except for his steady breathing. Something was placed delicately on a surface in his room. Then, he moved to the window and you heard it slide open. He breathed deeply. The rustling sound of fabric peaked your interest. Something landed on the bed. The unmistakable sound of a zip had a flush come to your face. Oh no.

Another thing was thrown on the bed. You imagined Klaus’s shirt and jeans piled on his sheets. This was bad. He was going to bed. You were going to be stuck down here for the night.

Klaus opened his door. Huh? And then he left. Wait what?

Cautiously, you lifted the duvet and peeked out. Nothing. You scooted to the other side of the double bed, wincing as the underneath spring of the bed caught your hair and it pulled. The other side confirmed that he had definitely left and shut the door behind him.

Apparently the plus side of hiding under the bed of a paranoid hybrid with even his siblings at times out to get him was that he kept his room strictly closed off to everyone else.

You scooted out from under the bed. The window, now open, was your best bet. Who was to say if the path to the door was empty or if you could open the front door without alerting anyone. A well timed cushioning spell would make the rose bush you’d land on hurt a little less. The thorns would still be a bitch though.

A sudden realization hit you that you forgot the painting at some point in your scooting. You rushed back to the bed and had to scoot back under a bit to reach it. As your hand touched it, you were once again rushed into the snapshot of the scene.

This time you knew you weren’t the painter. You looked down to your right at the top of Josie’s head. To your left was Jess. This was Elijah’s view. Which meant, if you looked straight ahead you’d most likely see –

It wasn’t Klaus.

You frowned. You were sure it would be Klaus. But you didn’t recognize the man painting on the tiny canvas in front of him with a concentrated look on his face. He had brown thinning hair and a sullen face with cupid bow lips and a nose people would pay good money for. He was an odd man that was handsome and not. You wondered who he was and tried to get the image to focus in further to find some distinguishing feature of some sort.

You were once again ripped back into reality as you registered the sound of footsteps outside the door. The window would have to wait and you dived back down and rolled under the bed, hitting you head as you did so. You bit your lip in pain as the door opened.

Klaus was back.

You couldn’t say if he was gone long or not as you had no idea how much time you had been lost to that vision. It didn’t seem long, but then again they never did.

Klaus sighed. The distinct sound of a towel rubbing against hair was the only sound in the room for a while as you put together that he just came from a shower. So, he was probably naked. You bit your lip for a different reason. You listened as Klaus toweled himself dry. He pulled a drawer open and assumingly put on some kind of clothing. You hopped it was at least a pair of underwear.

The bed dipped as Klaus sat. The lamp was clicked off. Shuffling from above. The bed dipped in different places as Klaus got comfortable. As luck was not your fan, he settled directly above you. You didn’t dare scoot one way or another. He’d surely hear it.

So you were spending the night here then. Great.

Klaus fidgeted above you again, having the gal to not find a comfortable position for the night. You stared at the springs and mattress centimeters from your face in annoyance. To be fair, this could have been the comfiest floor in the world and you still wouldn’t be sleeping tonight. Not with Klaus above you and the rest of the Mikaelsons scattered about the house. No hope of escape until morning.

A sharp inhale cut through your self pity. Another one. Was he…?

#Klaus Mikaelson #klaus mikaelson imagine #klaus mikealson x reader #the originals imagine #flutterings & tequila #part 13 #niklaus mikaelson #niklaus mikaelson imagine #niklaus mikaelson x reader #oh my god it's been over a year since the last part #damn writers block and inspiration really be like that #idk why i'm back at it either but let's hope it lasts i'm having fun

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neutron-stars-collision · 3 years

Text

The Art of Inversion

Neil x Reader

Chapter 21 - Losing My Religion

Masterlist; Chapter 20

Summary: After Tallinn, you use the opportunity and visit Neil’s apartment. What you find there, only increases the confusion, just as the pieces are set for the endgame.

Warnings: Swearing; angst.

Author’s Notes: This was a challenge, and it’s a little different too, a breather before the real fun begins... or something. After this we move onto the icebreaker... (and things). I’ll shut up now, hope you’ll enjoy and all kind of feedback are greatly welcomed!

The clean up after TP’s little accident on the highway was difficult. And tiring. By the time you have dealt with the mess and could call it a day, you wanted nothing but to sleep. And also disappear from the face of the Earth. That second thing was rather tricky to achieve. Unfortunately. You had to settle for the slightly awkward space given by the rest of the team and the fact that you were bound to return to London the next day. That was something. Even if it meant having to debate whether those damned keys were to be used.

The journey back was uneventful. Only Wheeler seemed capable of talking to you without looking as though she has been trapped in some metaphorical web of ineptitude that the others got caught in. That was alright. At least she knew how that conversation in the container went. Her company was good enough to keep you from going insane for the time being.

The moment the car arrived at the London quarters, you practically bolted out through the door. Eager to finally have your own space to reflect, cry, and try to move on after the unimaginable. But it was not exactly meant to be given…

“Y/N, wait!” Ives’ voice rung out through the reception hall as you skidded down the corridor.

Crap.

“Yeah?” cautiously, you stopped in your tracks, facing the squad leader.

Making the mistake of glancing at the reception desk, you met Anna’s watchful gaze. Of course. Even though you knew she had no clue about anything that transpired between you and Neil, it still felt like a painful reminder.

“I…uh...” the hesitation in Ives’ voice made you frown, “I just got this, and I’m not sure…” he passed you his phone with a strange expression on his face.

A text from TP. Just like the ones you received before. Right… This one had a familiarly succinct form: “Invert for eight days with the army from tomorrow. Then get to Trondheim, awaiting further instructions”

“Is this from him?” you looked up to see the blue eyes boring into yours with confusion.

“Yeah, it must be” you nodded and handed him back the phone.

At that exact moment, you got a text as well. Hurriedly you took out the device and read the message:

“Invert along with Ives and the rest”.

Short and simple. Yet not at all. Without a word, you showed your companion the text message and stifled a heavy sigh. Inversion. Eight days. Trondheim. That most likely confirmed your worst fears. The end of it all was near, and you were needed there. You, Neil, and everyone else still had their parts to play in the most important of showdowns.

“So, I guess we’re going back” you could feel Ives’ inquisitive stare on you “Just like they are” he added, awaiting a response.

Meeting Neil after those eight upcoming days sounded like a nightmare. Because a week was never enough to fall out of love. Or to even attempt it. You were a lost cause.

“…yep” nodding halfheartedly, you could feel another weight settle on your shoulders.

“Excited?” the intensity of Ives’ look convinced you towards his intentions.

Evidently, he tried to get a clue towards your state, probably assessing whether you could endanger the mission in any way. Despite everything, you were a professional. A Tenet agent. That had to come before any personal issues you might have had. Forcing a smile, you met his gaze with sincerity.

“Not really” a shrug completed the response.

But it was enough as he grinned back and squeezed your shoulder reassuringly.

“It’s alright. Have today off and be ready tomorrow morning,” he ordered with a feigned sternness.

“Aye aye, sir” you saluted, enjoying the laugh it prompted.

Maybe not everything was utterly shit.

“Your edge is still intact, I see,” he commented once the laughter died down.

“At least something is then” you grimaced slightly and walked off with a wave.

A day off. What could one possibly do with something like that after everything? The set of keys in your pocket felt heavy for something that small. And insignificant (in theory).

*** It took you one hour of staring at the wall, a thirty-minute-long shower, and two coffees to decide to make use of the keys. After all, what was the harm? It was a way of spending the idle hours. And maybe to understand him a little better. Even if it was too late to save anything. You wanted to know him. To know his mind and heart. You dug out the note with the address Ives gave you and typed it into the maps app. Your hands were shaking the whole journey. Even though it was not far, it turned out to be challenging. Often you were catching yourself glancing at the phone, expecting him to call or text as he always did. But then you remembered, making the nerves come to the surface again. You wondered whether it was because of the absolute wreckage your relationship became or because you were unable to contact him in any way. Walking the streets leading to Neil’s apartment, you realised that it was probably both. You missed him. Simple as that. And equally complicated at the same time.

Google maps led you to an old docking space transformed into posh loft spaces in two store buildings of dark red brick. The residential area was completed with a large parking lot (full of rather good cars), making the first question of the day pop into your head: Did Neil have a private car? Something that unimportant yet entirely mundane only made you realise how little you knew of his life. But this was exactly why you came here. The second thought was something you always knew yet never took time to ponder on: the fact that he undeniably had money. It did not matter, of course. Just another fact that could as a trigger for the intrusive ideas to appear.

Ignoring the spiraling thoughts, you made your way to the indicated building, keying in the code at the door and following the stairs to the second floor. The apartment door no 4 looked like any other you have passed on the way. Turning the key in the lock, you took a deep breath, gathering courage for god knows what. Perhaps just being alone with everything that had to do with Neil… The door opened soundlessly. Faint daylight from the corridor fell onto the furniture and objects gathered in the hall, helping your eyes adjust to the darkness. You closed the door and locked it. The least you could have wanted was for someone to break in on your watch. Now that would have made him hate you. If he didn’t already, that is. Taking off the shoes, you scanned the hall. Hooks with various jackets and coats on the wall. Including a slightly weathered leather one that perked your interest. With fingers ghosting the material, you were unable to block the images of Neil wearing it. That was enough to make you blush and curse out loud. That won’t help with getting over him. As though that was even possible.

Next, your eyes landed on the shoes rack in the corner showing off Neil’s questionable taste in footwear. You grimaced when spotting another pair of brogues (that would have to go… if there was any future for you) and then smiled involuntarily at something as casual as old converse on the top shelf of the rack. So, he could dress more… normally. Interesting.

The rest of the space was filled with a large mirror and a cupboard full of random objects such as spare lightbulbs, shoe care products, and cleaning supplies. On top of that cupboard, there was a succulent (practical, you had to admit), a desk calendar, and a small notepad filled with Neil’s writing. The contents ranged from shopping lists to quantum physics, making you grin fondly when looking through the pages. The latest entry was written down in haste and barely eligible. What you deciphered made your heart stumble for the first time that day. It seemed like Neil was planning to invite you over after Tallinn, prepare dinner, and apparently do all that ‘he wanted to for a while’. Brilliant. The notepad fell from your hands as the implications dawned on you. He wanted to set everything straight, to talk and potentially tell you important things… But now, it did not matter. There was no post-Estonia. Just you alone in his cold, darkened apartment, full of doubts, regrets, and worries.

Shivering from both the chill and the anxiety, you ventured into the living room. It was an open space with a large leather sofa, TV, record player with shelves full of albums and vinyls. There were also bookcases filled to the brim and a dining table for four. Once your gaze fell onto the black piano in the corner, you did a double-take. Obviously, Neil was musically talented. All those times when he has been desperate to annoy you by singing various corny love songs in public were an indisputable example. A moment like that from Tallinn flashed before your eyes…

You and Neil sat in a restaurant on one of the ‘dates’ you had managed to fit into the schedule before TP arrived in Estonia. Cozied up in the corner on a comfortable sofa, you felt perfectly at peace. Instead of taking the seat opposite, Neil got as close as it was possible without raising eyebrows of the fine clientele. You were chatting about everything and nothing, occasionally taking sips of the coffees and letting your hands rest on each other’s knees. Other times they would be interlocked on the table between the plates, showing to the world that this was no platonic meetup. Using the natural break in the conversation, you finished the remains of your latte and watched as Neil focused on the radio somewhere in the background. By this point, you should have known better, but still, the second he started singing took you by surprise.

‘Pretty woman I don't believe you, you're not the truth No one could look as good as you, mercy’

His gaze settled on you without that mercy, awaiting a response. His lips curled into a deadly smirk, making the matters worse. For a moment, you wanted to ignore him, to deny him the satisfaction. But the way he stared, enunciating the song lyrics with precision and aiming them at you, triggered the familiar desire to stake your claim. To make him (and everyone else) understand that he was yours. Especially with a voice that beautiful and eyes that looked at you with boundless affection.

‘Pretty woman that you look lovely as can be Are you lonely just like me’

It was the cheesy growl at the end of that stanza that did it. Combined with the huskiness of Neil’s voice and his hand appearing on your thigh underneath the table, it was enough to convince you to shut him up the best way you knew. You leaned in, placing your palm on the inside of his thigh, just close enough to remind him. Capturing his lips in a kiss, you did not have to wait long for Neil to invite you closer. You began the intimate dance, getting lost in the moment entirely. With him being in public did not matter. Especially not when he was giving you everything he could on a silver plate. Those days every kiss threatened to evolve into a full make-out session as you tried to get ever closer to him. That is why when you heard an awkward cough followed by “Miss, Sir, I’m sorry, but I need to ask you to leave” you could only start laughing. That was two days before your walk, which ended in the alley. The rest was history.

Shaking your head slightly, you let go of the memory. Has it gotten even colder? Shivering, you spotted a sweater draped on the side of the sofa. Crossing the space, you glanced at the instrument that caught your attention. A simple black Kawai piano with a Chopin music score opened on the fallboard and the stool underneath. If there even was a future, you wanted to hear him play something. You could almost picture it. Those long, elegant fingers on the black and white keys, hitting every note with perfection and the flourish he applied to every single task. His gaze focused. Golden hair falling into his eyes carelessly. Lips parted, tongue poking out in concentration. He was bound to be a sight as usual.

Ignoring the waking up flutters that always accompanied every thought about Neil, you picked up the sweater. It was the colour of dark red wine, simple and yet sophisticated in its simplicity. Cashmere. He really is posh. Giving in to the sudden whimsy, you breathed in the smell. That was a mistake. The moment Neil’s essence overwhelmed your senses, you felt a surge of feelings. The musky scent, the hints of bergamot and lavender that always brought comfort. Before you could second guess everything, you put the sweater on, letting the smell envelope you like his hugs always did. It was another thing that you missed. The ability to rest within his strong embrace, safe and wanted. The feeling of his arms cradling you with care. Without the solidity beneath your hands, it was hard to remember how it felt. The sweater had to do. You rolled up the sleeves and approached the large window, drawing back the curtains to see the view and let in light. The sight certainly was not disappointing with the lookout on the Thames and the docking ships. The area looked peaceful, like the place you could want to go out on walks and spend the rest of your life… No, stop. That was a dangerous line of thinking. After all, you only came here to satisfy the curiosity. And because you could, with nothing left to lose. Well, maybe apart from your sanity.

With the day shedding some light onto the furniture and objects in the room, you could more closely assess the type of person Neil was. The décor was rather posh (nothing surprising there) with leather, dark wood, and refined fabrics gracing the space. But upon a closer look, you could see the hints of Neil’s personality shining through the bounds of the stereotypes. It was visible in the chaos of the little details. Billy Idol album discarded on the CD player making you smile. The dying plants on the windowsill. The opened book on the coffee table right next to a bar of chocolate and some bullets. What even…

Looking around the space, you could easily picture him there. It was like entering a museum of Neil’s life and heart, and you were just a mere visitor. A trespasser even though you had the keys. Lost in the thoughts, you approached the bookshelves, looking over the titles. Young and Freedman’s University Physics with Modern Physics with a worn-out spine and a library stamp on the title page (a theft?). Griffith’s Introduction to Quantum Mechanics with scribbles on the margins, making your head hurt. More Quantum Mechanics but only getting increasingly complex. Spacetime and Geometry. In between the textbooks, there were classics of English and American literature, proving your theory that Neil knew the canon well. All those quotations had to come from somewhere… You looked over the further titles relating to the nuclear area of Physics and relativity of time, only to be thrown out of the moment when your eyes landed on a photograph in a wooden frame. A grinning young man with warm brown eyes and curly dark hair sat on the bench in the park. Alex. Picking up the photo, you took a closer look, feeling inexplicable heaviness in your chest. He looked just like Neil described him – an essence of goodness and understanding. The lump in our throat was strange. He still loved Alex that was a fact and something you took for granted. For a second, you wondered whether you could ever be half that important to him. But that was selfish. And wrong.

Swallowing hard, you put down the frame, focusing on another one nearby. In that photo, you recognized everyone. Ives with slightly longer hair grinning widely, next to him Wheeler with her practical bun and amused eyes, TP relaxed like always when in the company of friends. And then… You would recognize those eyes and sharp jaw anywhere, but… He’s not naturally blonde? You stared at the man who was undoubtedly Neil but with light brown hair, just as messy as usual. Interesting. You did suspect he dyed the hair but still having confirmation was unexpected. Staring a little longer at the photo, you already knew that it did not matter. He was a work of art, full stop. The rest of the photos depicted the Tenet crew, apart from the one you assumed was a family snapshot from years ago. Two happy boys with mundane looking parents and a Labrador retriever (Charlie!). Upon a closer look, you could tell that Neil got his blue eyes after his mother and the smile after his father. It was an interesting discovery. Other objects littering the shelves included postcards, trinkets from travels, and a strange collection of obscure coins. Also, more notebooks with Neil’s equations and theories and music scores. There was no order, just fate, and fancy. Just like him.

Wandering into the kitchen, running your fingertips over various instruments and surfaces, you wanted to soak in the atmosphere of the apartment. So far, the new information was almost overwhelming. But also fascinating in the fact that you already felt like you knew him better. Glancing at the fridge in passing, you froze. Among the cheap promotional magnets and old shopping notes attached to it, there was a rather familiar writing visible. A note you made Anna pass to him many weeks ago. “I’ll be at the shooting range. Meet you for dinner after 5” signed with your initials for practicality. Why has he kept it? It did not make sense. You forgot about the existence of something that inconsequential, yet here it was. Kept in place with a blaring orange magnet from Sainsbury’s. Suddenly feeling a little faint with the implications of the moment, you poured tap water into the glass and sat down on the stool by the kitchen island. You could still remember Anna’s offended stare when you gave her the note with the instruction to pass it to Neil later. That memory triggered another one, much more recent…

In the days leading up to Tallinn, you went out with Neil for a lunch and walk under the guise of planning the logistics of your journey. Sure, there was some planning being done over the tea and sandwiches. But there was also a lot of hand-holding, kissing, and gazing shamelessly. It was during those days, and then the idle hours in the safe house, that you have allowed yourself to love him. The feelings were there for months (most likely), but only after Oslo and the candid conversations in your room, you felt more at ease with them. So far, that PDA was not all that terrifying. And so, when you came back to the London quarters that afternoon, your fingers intertwined, you only realised how it looked like from the outside when Neil tugged you in the direction of Anna’s desk.

“What are you doing?” you hissed, hoping the woman was too busy to see you.

“I told you, need to get that ID sorted,” he explained, matching your conspiratorial tone, completely oblivious to your struggles.

“Yeah, but…” you raised your joined hands as if to show him the issue.

Neil grinned, waving his free hand dismissively.

“Oh, don’t worry about that. It’s not like that’s against the rules” ending the sentence, he took the final step separating you from the desk.

Great. Plastering on the most pleasant of smiles, you met Anna’s accusatory glare. You could not blame her.

“Anna, hi” Neil’s bright grin got met with a cold face of stone.

You vividly remembered that first day at Tenet, when you were filling in the paperwork, observing him flirt with the woman behind the desk. Back then, you were baffled by her reaction, the fluttering of eyelashes and lovesick smiles. Now you wondered how you got to that point and why you were seemingly luckier than she could ever be.

“Yes?”

“My ID is expiring soon. Was wondering if you could give me the form for the new one?” Neil’s chirpy tone made you hide a smile by looking at the floor “I want to get this sorted for after we’re back” he added, with that hopeful gaze barely anyone could ever say no to.

Anna was not any different.

“Naturally,” she spared you a final spiteful look before turning around to use the computer.

Glancing around the empty lobby, you hoped to survive the rest of the encounter without any additional awkwardness. But Neil had other plans. He stepped in closer, nose brushing over your ear, tearing down any illusions about the nature of your relationship. You stifled a sigh when his lips placed a small kiss over your temple.

“Shall we go to yours after this?” the whisper complemented with a ghost of his fingers on the side of your neck made you shiver.

“Maybe…” you cast a wary glance at Anna, but her back was turned.

Thankfully.

“I thought we could resume the planning…” upon the suggestive tone, you turned to meet his gaze.

Surely enough, the playful sparks were there. And the smirk too. Of course. Planning, in this case, most likely meant more cuddling… and potentially kissing. His hands getting accustomed to your body, leaving countless promises for the future. The thoughts alone made you blush. Before Neil could get any closer, Anna’s voice interrupted the moment:

“Here’s your form,” nothing but ice and fury.

So, she must have noticed…

“Thanks” the polite nod made you snicker.

During the next few terribly long minutes, you did your best to avoid looking at the other woman. Or at Neil. Your gaze roamed over the ceiling, the walls, and the floor. Reading the same fire evacuation instructions for the fifth time, you felt a gentle touch on your arm:

“Can I put down your details as my emergency contact?” you looked up straight into those inquisitive blue eyes “I’ve had Ives the last two years, but I think you’re a more accurate option these days,” he explained as though it was obvious.

Emergency contact? You always assumed those were for best friends and spouses. You were not sure which fitted the criteria.

“How so?” blurting out the only viable question, you met his perplexed gaze.

“… because I’m with you and not with him” the bluntness of the reply made your heart stumble.

“Right”

Of course, you agreed. As a ‘thank you’ that afternoon, Neil kissed you until there was barely any breath left for either of you. Now you missed the feeling of being that desired.

And yet, that stupid note was right there, in your eyes a bright red spot that you could not ignore. Because surely, he must have cared at some point? You finished the remains of water and washed the glass. Then, just for the sake of a distraction, you went through the kitchen cupboards. Nothing surprising. Appliances that looked barely used. Canned food every Brit would be expected to have. The amounts of frozen meals in the lower fridge compartments confirmed another thesis - Neil did not like cooking. That was fair not everyone could be Jamie Oliver. Not that you would prefer him. Certainly not. Shaking your head at the ridiculousness of the thoughts, you opened another cabinet. Wine and glasses, triggering the memory from your date night in Oslo. The way Neil tried to emulate his swank further by pretending to be a sommelier, making you laugh with his fake French accent and sparse knowledge. Upon the efforts to name something else than tannins (that Sauvignon Blanc had little of), you stepped in, shutting him up with a fingertip tracing the outline of his lips, collecting a stray droplet of wine. And then licking your finger clean, much to his shock. The strange snapshot from one of the most eventful nights in your life was a good cue to leave the kitchen and trod down the corridor.

You stepped into the bathroom, curiously glancing at the contents of the cupboards and around the sink. Nothing remarkable. Giving in to the temptation, you sprayed the cologne he used on your wrist and inhaled deeply. Closing the bathroom door, your eyes landed on the room at the end of the corridor. Neil’s bedroom. Involuntarily, you felt a shiver run down your spine. Bedrooms were always a sacred space. The most private of places in the house. The stage set for life’s crucial events. Love, life, and tragedy all began to play out (and end) in there. If there was a room closest to the heart of the owner, it would be the bedroom and its contents. With a shaky hand, you pressed down the handle and opened the door. The interior was almost too mundane. The bed with dark grey covers and decorative pillows. Some artworks on the walls and drawn curtains, forcing you to turn on the ceiling lamp. A small bedside table with a night light and books. A walk-in closet with the sliding doors partly opened. That was what drew you in first, crossing the space you peered inside. Only to be overwhelmed with that Neil smell that made sure to make your heart rate pick up. Gently, you ran your fingers over the suit jackets and sweaters hanged on the rails. He had a multitude of those, in different colours. Eyeing a suit in dark blue, you could imagine how it would bring out his eyes. There were a few sweaters in different shades of green, confirming the suspicions that he liked the colour. Further along, you found a drawer with ties of various patterns, making you grin at one olive green with Labradors on it. Now that was a classic Neil accessory.

Just when you were about to end the ‘snooping’ your gaze landed on a more casual part of the wardrobe. Jeans folded on the shelves, t-shirts, and polos. Even a jean jacket somewhere in the back. In the drawer, you found socks with questionable patterns, only increasing the fondness you felt for the owner of such an eclectic wardrobe. And then you made the mistake of letting your curiosity get ahead of you. Another drawer. Underwear. Your face got warm as you slammed it shut. Enough. Thinking about that could lead to the dangerous territory you would rather not venture out to. At least not when alone in his apartment, overwhelmed with memories and feelings. There would be time for this too later… Hopefully.

Sliding the doors shut, you took in the room again. The pile of books on the bedside table caught your attention. Gingerly, you sat down on the bed, doing your best not to think about the specifics of that moment. You, alone in his bedroom. This was certainly not how you expected to end up in there for the first time. But that too was beyond the point. Sighing, you picked up the stack of books only to drop them onto the covers with hands shaking. You would recognize the cover everywhere. Your favourite book. The exact copy you had last seen in Oslo when you gave it to Neil. That memory was rather unforgettable…

Hanging out in the hotel room, waiting for Mahir and TP to come back from a small errand, you did your best to ignore Neil’s piercing gaze from across space. That was the day after your careless dancing and that evening’s developments when he asked you out. Just before the mission. And Neil was staring, shamelessly so. It was getting on your nerves.

“Don’t you have anything better to do?” putting down the itinerary, you broke the silence and faced him.

The satisfied smile was enough to make you groan. He knew exactly what he was doing, as though waiting for the moment to strike when you were alone.

“Actually not, no” the grin widened as he shrugged nonchalantly “Plus you’re quite the sight. As usual” propping his chin on his hand, he kept on gazing.

The bastard was impossible.

“Jesus…” sighing, you rummaged in the bag at your feet “Do you want a book or something?” you took out a worn-out paperback “Because all that staring makes me want to…” trailing off, you met his inquisitive glare.

Want to kiss him. For starters. But he need not know that.

“What? Tell me” Neil spread his legs casually, leaning back in the armchair. An object of pure poise. And the challenge, aimed at you only. That was Neil at the top of his game, sure of what he wanted and how to get it. But you were not going to give it to him easily.

“Better not” the slight shock in his eyes gave you confidence “If yesterday taught me anything, it’s that your ego is big enough” offering him a sly smirk, you took a sip of the water.

When you looked up again, Neil was staring at you with an exaggerated pained expression on his face.

“I’m wounded” he put the hand over his heart like the drama queen that he was.

Scoffing, you laughed at the spectacle. Two could play the game.

“Good,” the offended whine only increased the satisfaction “So do you want that book?” you picked up the paperback, showing it to him “I’ve got my favourite one with me. Could kill some time”

“Yes, please” he got up and crossed the room, taking the book from you “I’ll have a chance to see what’s in that head of yours” Neil leaned down to your level and kissed you on the forehead “Apart from the desire for me, of course” he added, once he moved out of your reach once again.

Fucking hell.

“Neil”

At least there were some fun memories to come back to, you thought, looking through the copy you borrowed Neil. Then you noticed another thing. Under your book, there was another one of the same title. Brand new. Pages filled with Neil’s scribbles on the margins and underlined passages, highlighting the exact same quotations that made this book become your favourite. My god. The realization hit you with a gasp and a shiver. He read it. And not only that, but he also tried to understand you through something you held so dear. Reading the notes he made, you knew he was listening to every word you said. No matter the moment, the stage of your ‘relationship’, evidently, he cared enough to be interested in your thoughts and feelings. You were holding the proof in your hands. In some margin notes, Neil even referred to you using your initials, pointing out why it could resonate with you so much. The more you read, the more it felt like you have encountered his diary, in some form. That would be it when it comes to getting over. Putting down the books, your head was spinning. Too much.

You needed food. And sleep. It was at that moment that you decided to stay. It got late enough to make the journey back inconvenient. And everything was right here. Feeling like Goldilocks personified, you made use of Neil’s frozen food assortment and put on the music. Once you got over the initial shock of the afternoon, it was almost too easy to pretend that Tallinn never happened. That you were still alright. That he still potentially loved you. With the somewhat soothing sounds of Billy Idol and The Darkness, you went over Neil’s notebooks with equations. You understood nothing but the possibility to read his notes and theories was as comforting as it could get. Then, feeling your eyelids get heavy, you cleaned up and moved to the bedroom. Lying down in Neil’s bed felt like sacrilege. But the moment your head rested on the pillow and you inhaled the scent, it was all excused. At least in your eyes. Giving in to the foolish daydreams, you could almost imagine him next to you. The warmth and comfort the cuddles always provided. But you were alone, still wearing that sweater that smelled too good to be given up. It had to be enough. You fell asleep thinking about those damned blue eyes and the man that took the ownership of your heart for good.

*** Upon waking up in the cold apartment the next morning, you wanted nothing but to leave as soon as possible. In the daylight, with dreams of happiness haunting every corner of your mind, the feeling of loneliness was more persistent. You made sure to get rid of any signs of your intrusion, cleaned the kitchen, and made the bed. The only keepsake you could not deny yourself was the cashmere sweater that you stuffed into the bag. Even if he would not want anything to do with you, you could give it back along with the keys. Surely he would understand… right? After everything that you found in his flat, nothing seemed certain anymore.

You made it back to the HQs with just enough time to shower and pack for the next week of sitting in the inversion chambers in the sealed off part of the complex. That did not sound good as it meant more time with too many people in the cramped quarters. You had enough of that at this point. But then that was the prize of getting the most incredible of jobs. That and getting your heart broken. Again.

You joined the rest of the army by the larger turnstile, used purely for long-term inversion, instead of training. Accepting friendly nods from both Ives and Wheeler, you took your place in the queue. No one knew exactly what the purpose of this was. Just that you were supposed to go back eight days and then travel to the Norwegian coastline, awaiting instructions. The intuition that was rarely wrong told you that you were in the endgame from this point onwards.

And so, the next week was restricted to trying not to lose your sanity locked within the four walls. The only escape from the small room was the kitchen (always full of people that wanted to know too much), bathroom (that always had lines of people waiting by the door), and the small courtyard, where you could not step out without the oxygen tank and a mask. Overall, it was not the most pleasant of experiences. Especially when most days you wanted to curl up in bed and contemplate the mess that your life became. And to marinate in pain that became a constant companion. The sweater could only help so much. Accompanied with nerves and worry, you felt objectively shit and did everything to preserve the solitude. That is how you found yourself in the small kitchen at 2 am, eating toasties and drinking tea. Earlier the compound was too busy, and you preferred starving than facing the others. Only with everyone asleep, you could catch up on the meals missed. Well, almost everyone…

“How are you doing?” a voice interrupted your brooding.

You turned in the seat only to see Wheeler enter the room with a small smile on her face. Her you could tolerate, as an exemption.

“Bad” the candid answer seemed only appropriate “But I don’t mind the company, so please… stay” you added upon her hesitation.

She just nodded and proceeded to make a cup of tea. The silence stretched, but for once, it was rather pleasant. Finally, she finished the task and took the seat opposite you, giving you a quick once-over. You knew what she saw. Tangled hair, reddened eyes from lack of sleep, and hours of tears. The sweater that became the only comfort in those early morning moments when nothing seemed real and yet everything was too much.

“Is the sweater his?” she asked plainly, and you could only nod.

At this stage, surely, nothing was bound to surprise her.

“Yeah… Maybe it’s silly, but I took it from his place just to have something… tangible” you explained, consciously running your fingers over the material. Instead of judgement, you got a smile in return.

“No, I understand” Wheeler took a sip from the mug before asking, “Did the apartment give you any answers?”

You have not shared the story with anyone, unable to process it all even in the quiet of your mind. But maybe this was a chance to let it out…

“Mostly whiplash,” you let out a bitter laugh “It’s like… he cares… or cared,” you stumbled over the tense “But then in Tallinn after the shoot-out, he just closed off completely, and I don’t know why” raising your hands in defeat, you planted on your face on the table.

Anything goes. After a moment of utter frustration, you met Wheeler’s inquisitive eyes again. She did not seem bothered by your antics. Just a little concerned by the picture you were painting.

“Maybe it’s trauma” the seriousness of her expression made you think.

You did consider that option. But even knowing what happened with Alex, his reaction seemed too violent. You were alive, and yet he was trying to push you away. Plus, that way of thinking implied something else. Something you did not dare consider.

“That would mean he… loved me” getting the words out was a challenge “And I don’t think he does” you stared at the table, giving in to the thoughts once again “Whatever is going to happen now, I think I need space. Some distance. Trying to get over this won’t work otherwise”

Formulating the feelings that were overwhelming your heart and mind felt somehow relieving. Even if the prospects were anything but good.

“Is that what you want? To let him go?” the straightforward attitude of your companion was helpful.

“I don’t know,” sighing, you met her gaze, “I want… him, but if he doesn’t feel the same then…” with reddened cheeks, you let the sentence trail off.

She would understand, you were sure of that. And, if the slightly suspicious look in Wheeler’s eyes was anything to go by, she had her ideas about the topic.

“You should probably try talking to him again” she spoke after a few minutes of silence.

“Last time that ended terribly,” you replied, arching your eyebrows, begging her to remember how bad that container conversation went.

“I know,” Wheeler patted your shoulder reassuringly, “But I also know that sometimes Neil needs a proper kick in the ass before he sees what’s right in front of him” she got up and went to the sink, picking up both of your dishes.

With the soothing soundtrack of the washing, you could feel almost sleepy. If it was not for that never-ending chatter of your thoughts.

“If you say so…” you murmured when she turned the tap off.

“Go to sleep. It’s just two days more of this torture” giving you a final smile, Wheeler left the kitchen.

You could survive two days. After that? Who knows. But it had to be alright.

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