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misty-caligula · 11 months

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Okay this is gonna be long, but I’ve got a lot of ground to cover so please bear with me. In a real way, this is my series thesis.

I’ve said before, many times now (like a cycle) that for me the most important scene is ep 1 act 1 scene 1. There’s something There that I have been struggling to see clearly, struggling to articulate, and s2e9 really finally gave me the last pieces for it.

I think that Pit Girl is the point of the entire story. But not in the way that I thought going in. I feel like I’m rambling, so I’m going to try to structure my thoughts.

Imagine you’re a new viewer. You haven’t watched yj start to finish 30 times, you’ve never even buzzed before. You turn on the tv and the FIRST thing that happens is you see ... brutality. A half dressed girl chased through the freezing woods, murdered without a chance. They drag her through the snow, string her up, pour her blood on the ground. Hack her into unrecognisable chunks. Sit around in scary outfits and rip at her, with a huge focus on the teeth, as horror music plays. Then, Misty takes off her mask, puts on her glasses, and does the worst possible thing. She smiles. Directly at you.

Again, forget everything you know and go on vibes. You’re seeing the teens pre-crash, and you’re seeing them in the third timeline, fully formed, with horror motifs and covered in fur. You’d be mistaken for thinking that you were seeing start and end. Except that... we know, and you know, that Pit Girl is the middle. These monsters somehow came back from this. How? When they’re so so so far gone?

Hence the show. I know I’m not breaking new ground here, but bear with me. I’m going somewhere.

(Edit: Readmore added because honestly, LONG post)

You’d be forgiven, fresh-faced new viewer, for thinking you were watching some kind of gross-out slasher. But what happens in S1? Restraint. Laura Lee, the first non-crash victim dies at the end of episode eight. Jackie end of ep 10. (For the sake of this thesis we’re going to be almost exclusively focused on the teens.)

And yet there’s this tonal shift, It’s like ... inevitability. Like watching a crack in a window that’s very slowly spreading. Everything is steadily Getting Worse. The weather is slowly getting colder, the days are getting darker, food’s getting scarcer, life is getting harder. But so much of this difficulty is coming from external events and pressure. Yes, cracks start to show in the internal relationship dynamics, of course, but if food was plentiful, if shrooms were less so, if the weather were better, then they could probably work out a very long term stable situation. Sadly for them, things are not stable, and the pressure is building.

Then Jackie dies and the glass gets a really big break.

It’s worth mentioning at this moment that Jackie at any time could’ve come the fuck inside. Safety and warmth and even love were available to her. All it would’ve required was for her not to be the centre of the world. To make actual goddamn concessions and join the team. Which is why she couldn’t possibly make that choice, because she had to be invited, she had to be apologised to, she had to be accommodated. She couldn’t see the rest of the ‘jackets as being people who just like her were in a really shitty situation. She saw them as being external, as being in cahoots against her, as being part of some Thing that she wasn’t in on. She couldn’t let go of the society they’d left, and she preferred to die. Which sure is a choice...

Keep all of that in mind though. We’re taught to blame Shauna for Jackie’s choices. Let’s stop with that. Jackie chose not to assimilate, she looked around the cabin at the team eating the bear and praying to the wilderness and instead of just paying lip service to fit in, like Tai, she decided to put her foot down and make a Thing of it. She decided that being Right was more important than being Included.

Seriously, keep that in mind, we’re coming back to it. Cycles, you know...

Season 2, everyone’s hungry and hey we have this spare Jackie lying around. And we joke like “ha, you gonna eat that?” Only...

No. They WEREN’T going to eat her.

Really think about that for a second. They put her in the meat shed. With the bear. Think about what that does, psychologically. Linguistically. The meat shed is made to store food. The bear has a word: carcass. Day after day after week after month they carve progressively more pathetic chunks from it, subsisting on what little it offers. In the EXACT same room, sitting right there is Jackie. Her body has a different name. Corpse. With many different connotations. At NO point does ANY of them raise the fact that they’ve taken their friend and added her to their meat stockpile.

Because they haven’t. Instead, they’ve added a new sub-room. The meat shed is now also a morgue. And nobody ever once had to say it. They got it. We got it. You got it. And while they starved and their bodies BEGGED for food, Jackie’s corpse lay there, frozen and fresh, and stubbornly refused to become a carcass, because they wouldn’t let it. They knew that there were more important things than meat, even when they were starving.

The bacchanal was a mistake. A literal error. It simply wasn’t planned, wasn’t meant to go down that way. Maybe if they HAD considered that route earlier and had a discussion about it they’d have been prepared, psychologically, maybe if they weren’t so starved. Who knows. But in the middle of the night they were offered a way out, and they took it.

But Shauna took it first.

Even in their state, even faced with an ideal roasted feast infront of them, they waited until Shauna said it was okay. Because Jackie was Shauna’s friend, and they knew that she was still a person. That this was still a corpse first. It was Shauna who was able to give them permission to survive. To turn a friend into a meal. It was not their place to take that step. To shoulder that guilt. So Shauna did it for them.

The next day they’re devastated. The heavy reality sets in, now the hunger is settled. And Jackie’s carcass is far too real, they can’t change her back into a corpse. Nat tries, bless her heart. But Tai’s screaming reaction at having eaten Jackie’s face is only an externalisation of the grief and horror and agony they’re all going through.

And after Jackie they starve again. Hope and heat and light dwindles further. Every single day they all take another step towards death. That’s what starvation is, it’s the same thing as dying, you die a little bit every day until you can’t die anymore.

Kristen falls. Misty doesn’t even consider that she might bring her back as meat. If she had’ve, she might think, maybe she’d be considered like ... heroic. It doesn’t even occur to her. She’s not going to LET those bitches eat her one and only friend, and she goes out of her way to protect her.

Shauna has her horror show birth. And, no matter WHAT the context is, she produces.... meat. In the most awful, brutal way. And while the fandom made so many jokes and stuff, the reality is that yes... at least to an extent there was real nutrients there. And it was never once even brought up as an option, by these desperate, starving girls.

When Coach tries to kill himself, here’s a ready source of willing meat. And Misty uses it as a threat to stop him. But it’s hollow, she’s just putting on fake fangs to try to keep him safe. She’s not actually that vicious thing that she’s pretending to be, just like she’s not actually homophobic.

When Lottie tells Misty to eat her if she dies, Misty fights her on it. Lottie has to insist. Then when she tells the rest of the team, they are so overwhelmed with the selflessness of the gesture that it inspires them to twist it into their first hunt. That’s what it takes. The hunt is an act of self-sacrifice and love.

And so we get to the hunt. The proto-pit-girl, we’ve come full circle and we start to learn all these answers to questions posed in act 1 scene 1. And they’re not the answers that were assumed.

How do they get to the point of eating each other? They sacrifice themselves willingly, for the sake of each other’s survival.

Why do they hunt the way they do? Because Shauna just can’t stand to murder a friend in cold blood, a friend she cares for and has no reason to hate.

Why the spike pit? Because it keeps the blood off their hands. Because it lets them blame It and preserve a tiny fragment of their innocence.

Why the weird symbols? The ritual itself? Because they need SOMETHING to hold onto, to make it all make sense.

Why so brutal? Is it? We THINK it’s brutal. It’s certainly bloody. But Pit Girl dies almost instantly. Her pain is over fast. She doesn’t have a good time going into it, obviously, none of them want to die. But she chose to run, she could’ve taken the knife instead. And the spike trap was efficient. Yes they drag her through the snow and string her up, but it’s mechanical and just part of the process and she’s dead already. Her pain is over fast, it’s not sadistic.

Why do they chop her up into chunks like that? Because nobody wants to eat her face. Because nobody wants to struggle with her humanity, they want her to look just like any other meat. So that they might be having deer or bear or ... friend. They’re eating because they are biological machines that need to eat, that NEED death to survive. They didn’t ask to be made the way they are, and they’re doing their best to cope. Shauna, probably blindly, takes on that responsibility, to transform their friend into unrecognisable meat to change a corpse into a carcass. She takes that pain for them, holds that sin for them, out of love. So they can eat, so they can survive.

What’s with the creepy horror masks? During the ritual they can’t handle being themselves. They create alternate versions of themselves to hold what must be done. The masks aren’t there to scare anyone, because there IS NO AUDIENCE. The masks are there to hide behind. That’s why Misty takes hers off at the end of the scene. The ritual is over and they can go back to being people again.

Why is Misty fucking Quigley in charge? Because she CAN be. Because she’s strong enough. If Lott/Nat/The AQ is the goddess/queen, Misty is the priestess/handmaiden, tasked with actually carrying out her orders. She interprets the queens words when she’s too weak, she provides counsel when she needs it, she tells the team what they need to hear in the moment, she gives out the micromanagement. Misty’s the power behind the throne, because when she says she’ll do something she fucking follows through. No matter the cost. And what the team NEEDS, whether they choose to admit it or not, is a backbone.

So...

They bring home Javi. The music uses a reference that’s never been done before. It uses the spiritual powerballad that was playing when Laura Lee tried to fly away. It builds the expectation of Great Things, of big, potent ...

And then it just stops. As the girls are faced with the reality of what’s laying on the table. The cold, blue corpse of a soft child who never hurt anyone. No matter what they do, no matter how hard they try they just cannot make him a carcass. But they have made the choice already, and if they turn back now it’s not like it’ll bring him back. They’ll just be starving and regretful as he rots.

So Shauna, blind and shaking, does the best she can. And when she brings in the meat, she - of all people - understands EXACTLY what Travis is going through. She knows what he needs. Because she’s been here. With Jackie. So she brings him Javi’s heart. His core. His love. His soul.

(She doesn’t bring him Javi’s head. She cuts that off and puts it aside so nobody has to eat his face... Some things are worth more than pure nutritional survival.)

And Travis, god bless him, does the only thing he can do left to respect Javi. He takes his heart, and he bites it, raw and bloody.

It hurts him to do so. It disgusts him so much, but he manages not to throw up. It disgusts the girls too, but they watch on, horrified. And that’s the POINT. Travis makes sure that before they do this, before they do what they have to... that they all remember this is Javi, this is human, this is a person. And he preserves the horror. For all their sakes. And only then, after he’s given his blessing, after he’s done his human acts, do these starving, ravenous girls allow themselves to reach for their food.

S1E1. Act 1, scene 1. We do not know who Pit Girl is. We do not know the exact circumstances that get us there. But we do know where we started now. What the original meaning is behind each of these little things. And it’s not brutality, not barbarism. It’s love. It’s not lord of the flies, a bunch of monstrous human-shaped creatures giving in to their primal nature and predating on each other. It’s a team of terrified people desperately clutching at their own humanity as hard as they can. Trying SO hard not to let that glass break, to not become the thing that the framing of act 1 scene 1 tried so VERY hard to convince us they were. Context changes everything.

And the proof is in the pudding. After they eat Jackie the shock explodes throughout the cabin. The atmosphere is thick, and horrific. Now with Javi, reduced to simple meat, carefully and lovingly seperated from what made him human, so they can grieve him while they sate their natural needs, the mood post-eating is calm and soft and warm and loving. For once they’re all together, with grateful full stomachs and in a time of peace and plenty. They’ve done the impossible and maintained their humanity and love for each other and their respect for Javi in a nearly impossible situation.

*takes a deep breath*

Which brings us to THIS asshole.

Right from the start, Jackie is only kind of part of the team. She’s the team captain, put up there by Coach Martinez, but not because she’s the best of them but because she can maybe wrangle them into doing better. And they KNOW that she’s not really one of them. They plot around her, and just don’t bring her in on it. They put up with her, more than loving her, she’s just kind of forced upon them. But she does her best, to try to maintain some semblance of order, giving pep talks and the like.

Wait, Jackie? I mean coach. My bad.

Anyway, so Jackie has one friend, Shauna. She SEEMS popular, and everyone talks to her, but Shauna’s the only one who actually likes her. And Shauna’s her connection point to the team. She’s got one foot on each side, and is torn as to where her real loyalties lie.

Sorry I’m talking about Jackie again.... weird.

In S1E9/10 Shauna finally chooses the team, for real. And Jackie tries to pull her back away, but Shauna puts her foot down. No way, she counters, I’m ON the team, you’re the odd one out. Why don’t YOU leave, Jackie? Jackie looks around at the burgeoning cult, she thinks “Look at these evil monstrous bitches, and now Shauna’s one of them TOO?” And instead of finding a compromise, instead of doing introspection, instead of anything like that, Jackie goes and freezes to death because it turns out that sheer rage won’t keep you warm in sub zero temperatures. Because no matter what happens, Jackie’s Right and it’s more important to her to be Right than Included. If she’s not in charge than why is she even THERE?

Hold on, I see my mistake. Let me backtrack.

Right from the start, Coach is only kind of part of the team. He’s trying to hide from his real life, from Paul and the complexities of being genuine in society by taking on the job of coaching the ‘jackets. And they KNOW that he’s not really one of them. He’s just the guy they have to listen to, because society put him there. But he tries his best, giving pep talks and the like.

So Coach has one friend, Natalie. He SEEMS popular, and everyone talks to him, but Nat’s the only one who actually likes him. (Ignore Misty, a schoolgirl comphet crush is not the same thing). And Nat’s his connection point to the team. She’s got one foot on each side, and is torn to where her real loyalties lie. Sometimes she’s on the bench with Coach, complaining about the state of things. Sometimes she’s in the thick of it with them all, and Coach is nowhere to be found.

In S2E9, Nat finally chooses the team, for real. And Coach tries to pull her back, but Nat puts her foot down. No way, she counters, I’m ON the team, I’m worse than them, you’re the odd one out. Go, save yourself, you don’t belong in this place. Coach looks at a table covered in blood and gore, at Nat’s face, at the rest of the team pledging fealty to her. And instead of looking for context, or looking for compromise, or even remotely trying to understand what he’s looking at he thinks

Look at these evil monstrous bitches. They’re eating each other. They’ve all gone mad. They’ve even gotten Nat now. There’s no hope for them, there’s no hope for anyone out here.

And he decides that they’re corrupt. That the way you deal with that is fire. And he’s wrong.

(I have a theory that he’s gone and jumped off the cliff, that he set the fire to clear the corruption, and now like Jackie, unable to live in this situation any longer, he’s decided to die himself. I’d not be surprised to find him in s3e1 that way)

Jackie was a frustrating, difficult person. Because no matter how things went she just COULDN’T let go of the fact that she was trying to fit a mold that just didn’t suit her. She was raised with super high expectations, when she was really just kind of mid. And that’s fine, honestly, most people ARE mid, that’s why it’s mid. But she refused to see that those around her were shedding their social pressures, were adapting to the wilderness. They weren’t having a good time, they weren’t hunting and foraging because they were out there, camping for fun. Nobody wanted to be there. They were just trying not to complain about it, because they were all in the same boat.

Coach is similar. He simply won’t adapt. Refuses to. I mean this is a guy who’s STILL trying to live in the closet when there’s open lesbians making out in public around him. Who thinks of others as inherently monstrous when he himself, as a gay man, should know better. Because that’s what trying to fit your society-assigned role does to you.

It’s no accident that he and Jackie both spend a long time in the woods and neither of them can do something as basic as start a fucking campfire. Javi, a little kid, survived for MONTHS on his own in that cave. Coach couldn’t make it a day alone. Jackie couldn’t get through a night. They both rely so heavily on the team without ever once recognising it. Because SOMEONE was keeping the fires going. They both just ... refused to engage.

And just like Jackie can’t see that they’re not having fun out there in the woods, on the knifes edge of survival, Coach can’t see that they’re not having fun when they are so desperate they feel it’s warranted to sacrifice one of their own. He always thought of them as monsters, and he just sees what he expects to: a bunch of stupid useless teenage girls, finally doing what he always expected they would.

At any point... At ANY point he could’ve come in from the cold. He could’ve just accepted reality as they have. He could’ve taken some meat and accepted the price, as they have, joined them in their GRIEF about it, shared their humanity, and survived. Just as Jackie could’ve come in from the cold, and become part of the whole. But instead, they sit in the cold, consumed by their bitter hate, and decide that no, it’s everyone ELSE who’s wrong.

And who emerges from the burning cabin? A bunch of scared kids. Shauna, the FIRST cannibal, who saves Jackie’s prom dress before anything else. Travis, who grabs Javi’s wolf. Nat who grabs the ammunition - that they NEVER use on each other - because if they lost that they’d get SERIOUSLY desperate. And they protect each other, they make sure everyone makes it out. These supposed monsters who are so far gone they don’t even care about eating each other go out of their way to save each other, not just themselves.

Because Coach is wrong. Just like Jackie was wrong. Just like WE were wrong, in s1e1. Which brings me to my actual point.

This question is asked so many times in S1 it’s almost a mantra. And the ‘jackets’ oath of silence really builds up that it must’ve been something REALLY bad, right? But S2E9 has really made me recognise that fundamentally... Act 1 Scene 1 is entirely what everyone who asks this question is expecting.

Imagine they DID know what really happened out there. With that bloodthirsty fucking look in their eyes...

They’re not looking for an answer. They’re looking for a story. For an exciting spooky nightmare they didn’t take part in, so they can get a shiver and a thrill they didn’t earn.

They’re not looking for a love story. They’re not looking to hear how HARD these scared, tragic, broken people fought to hold onto their morals and their humanity and their sanity even against their own survival. They’re not interested in Shauna blinding herself just to try to stop her hands from shaking. They’re not looking to hear about Travis choking down the blood of his brother just to make sure that he can really FEEL it. So he can share the guilt, and never ever pretend like it’s Just Meat. The look in his eye when he can’t think of any good response to Van’s arguments that he needs to let Javi save him. What they want is...

They don’t want the context. And if the ‘jackets ever did try to tell anybody what actually DID happen out there, all they would see is ... Episode 1, Act 1, Scene 1. A bunch of monsters. Eating each other. Just like Jackie. Just like Coach. Just like we did, on first glance.

I’ve been saying this whole time that Yellowjackets is doing something really special. That it’s letting us see behind the curtain, that while everyone’s asking this big question, “what really happened?”, we’re the ones who get to know. Because it can’t be told. It can’t be spoken. It can only be seen. Experienced. I think that S2 has finally finished the first major arc in the teen timeline, that we now have the context to understand what comes next. And I do believe that it will get messy, it will devolve. Into fighting and screaming and battles. It’s tragic, but it looks like that’s the downward spiral, spiraling. As Travis and Nat deal with the guilt of what they did with Javi for each other. As Shauna and Nat butt heads and people pick sides. As Misty Mistys. As resources get even more desperate now their shelter is gone. As potentially new people (hikers? other cabin people?) get brought into conflict with them (I believe the cabin is a smoke signal, personally).

But don’t ever forget that we got here with love. Expect that the downward spiral will be lubricated with toxic, broken, codependant, self-destructive love as well. Watch them love each other to death... they’ve already begun.

#yellowjackets #spoilers #theories #Long post #no really long post

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yandere-daydreams · 10 months

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Title: Vampiric.

Pairing: Yandere!Miguel O'hara x Reader (Spiderverse).

Word Count: 1.4k.

TW: Vampire AU, Blood and Violence, Unbalanced Power Dynamic, Predator/Prey Dynamics, Implied Past/Future N0n///C0n, and Obsessive Behavior.

He came to you in the midnight hours.

You’d learned, by now, to wait for his nightly visits in privacy, to sit on the corner of your bed farthest from your window and listen for the distant sound of claws digging into wood, of a body dragging against stone, of nails scraping against glass as he beckoned you to let him in willingly. Of course, you didn’t, and of course, he didn’t need you to – your bedroom window crashing only a moment after you would’ve reached it, a pair of talon-doting hands wrapping around your windowsill before Miguel hauled himself inside, scarlet blood already dotting the collar of his white undershirt. Clearly, he’d already fed, tonight. His appetite had already been sated, which meant he’d only come to you to wash the taste out of his mouth.

The alternative would’ve been kinder. When he came to you half-starved, you could blame his violence on his hunger, his cruelness on his desperation. Whatever he did tonight would only serve his own twisted sense of entertainment.

He was grinning, too; crimson painted over his lips and dripping from his chin, coating his pointed fangs and spilling onto the fine silk of his tunic. With your back to him, your shoulder pressed into the plain wood of your headboard, you watched from your peripheral as he stepped into your bedroom, letting out a bark of a laugh and arching his back before stiffening, his smile falling in an instant with a sharp, venomous hiss. He didn’t flee or melt into a pile of ash and bone as you’d hoped, but only turned back to your window, catching the wreath of purple and white flowers posted above it on his claws. “Garlic blooms,” he muttered, crushing your wreath in his fist. The ruined flowers were allowed to drift pathetically to the floor, but you forced yourself to look away before they landed. “Trying your hand at botany?”

“Someone told me that garlic was good for keeping away for keeping away unwanted pests, but they must’ve been mistaken.” You didn’t move, didn’t turn, keeping your back straight and your hands wrung together in your lap. It was all you could do to keep your voice steady, to hide how much you wanted to buckle into yourself and beg him to leave. That’d come soon enough, when you were drained of all things good and vital and had only the strength it took to hold yourself. For now, you could play confident. “Tell me, would it be worth the time it’d take to hang a crucifix?”

You felt his weight on the plush of your mattress, your stomach turning as he grew ever-nearer. “I wouldn’t think so. You know how fond I am of holy ground.”

It was true, you did. You’d never be able to forget the night he first cornered you, the hours you spent pinned against the alter of an empty chapel as a beast you’d mistaken for a man buried his teeth in your neck and he forced his body into yours. For as long as he’d tormented you, you’d thought that night would be your final one, that he’d split you open and eat you alive before the sun ever rose, but here you sat, alive and breathing and still completely in the dark as to why he hadn’t devoured you, why he hadn’t left you in the same decrepit state as the rest of his mortal victims – a dried husk, barely a shell of a corpse left in a gutter or alleyway to be found by some poor soul the next morning. Your only guess was that he took more joy in being the ghost that haunted your every waking thought than the beast who would rip you to shreds the moment you stepped into the moonlight, and even then, it was hard to tell which fate was crueler. It was hard to tell if you were glad that he’d shown you mercy, or distraught that he'd chosen to keep you as a plaything, instead.

A bitter taste spread over your tongue. His cold breath fanned over your exposed back, and reflectively, motivated by the same instinct that propels the rabbit to writhe in the fox’s mouth, you tried to stand, to flee Miguel before he thought to bite down. You made it all of half a step before a strong arm caught you by the waist, dragging you back onto your bed and against Miguel’s broad chest. There was a throaty laugh, a flat tongue ran over the curve of your throat, and then, the fox put the rabbit out of its misery and Miguel sunk his fangs into your neck.

It hurt the same way it always hurt. The pain was sharp, hot – searing your veins as he bit into you, drawing a sharp cry from the base of your throat before you could hope to swallow it down. He held you like that for a moment, then another, your body pressed against his and his teeth burrowed in your flesh, before pulling back with a rolling growl, barely giving you time to draw in a ragged inhale before his lips latched onto his fresh puncture marks, his coarse tongue over the twin streams of blood. A thin trail of scarlet slipped past the corner of his mouth, only growing thicker as he nipped at half-healed ‘love bites’ and throbbing bruises too often abused to fade. His hand fell away from your wrist and rose to your collar, finding its way to the base of your throat and catching you in an inescapable grip, holding you steady as he drank from you. Sometimes, he let you fight it, took joy in pinning you down as you shoved and kicked and screamed, but he usually preferred a submissive meal. Tonight, he was clearly in the mood to pretend you were willing prey.

You expected him to leave after he’d drunk his fill, to pull away and slip back out of your bedroom window, but you were not that fortunate. Rather, he sunk lower, burying his teeth in the curve of your shoulder. The impact was dull, just forceful enough to bruise – meant more to mark than to maim. A love bite, in the place of a puncture wound – the former just as painful as the latter. “It’s like wine,” he muttered, the words nearly lost against your skin. You felt his hand on the collar of your nightdress, starting to drag the delicate fabric downward before he lost what little patience he still had. Before you could brace yourself, before you could think to bed him not to, your body was slammed against the wood of your headboard, his fist still wrapped around your neck, his claws still tearing at your clothes. “If I had less control, I would’ve drained you weeks ago.” His voice in your ear, his hands on your skin. He dropped lower, to your chest, and yet, you never seemed to rid yourself of the awful feeling that he was looming over you, consuming you. “You’re lucky that your blood’s not the only part of you that tastes so—”

“Please.” It was barely a whisper. Without his uncannily keen senses, it could’ve easily been lost underneath the sounds of his lips against your skin, underneath his throaty growls and stifled moans. Still, he raised his head, his scarlet eyes flickering up to meet yours as you went on. “Please, Miguel, not tonight.”

For a moment, he did not move, did not speak. You pictured, in a part of your mind you’d lost control of the day you met him, Miguel burying his talons in your chest, carving out your beating heart and making it so you’d never be able to deny him again, but the blow never came.

A small, teasing smile spread across his crimson-stained lips as he raised his head. He kissed you, the gesture gentle and lingering, before straightening his back and releasing your throat. “Not tonight,” he said, watching as you sunk into yourself. “But soon. I can’t let my amor spend their nights alone for much longer.”

You opened your mouth, but he was already gone – vanishing into the moonlight and leaving you covered in your own blood, shaking in the tatters of your nightdress, and already dreading his next visit.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere oneshot #yandere spiderverse #spiderverse x reader #across the spider verse spoilers #spiderverse spoilers #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel x reader #yandere miguel o'hara #yanderecore #yancore

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courtingchaos · 6 months

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Nectarine

Eddie Munson x Fem Reader

Warnings: Talk of body parts in a sexy way. Comparison of the female body to fruit, implied white/light-skinned reader due to analogy/prose. I had this very particular phrase stuck in my head and it comes across as that. Uh, I just really like how it reads so that’s why I’m putting a warning here because I didn’t want to take it out.

A/N: I’ve hung on to this for like two months now because I wasn’t sure if I wanted to post it but I was rereading it tonight and I forgot how much I like writing from Eddie’s perspective. So also have this thing too.

18+ NSFW No Minors

He’s never been jealous of fruit before.

Never had the urge to rip a nectarine out of someone’s hand and huck it right into the pool for making him feel like this. He hasn’t taken his eyes off the spectacle since you bit into it, that first bite crunching through the mottled white and red flesh. You’d come out from the kitchen of Steve’s house with it already wedged between your teeth while you balanced pizzas in your hands and he’d shot right up to help. You’d laughed around the mouthful and when he’d taken the boxes you pulled the fruit away from your lips, the sound of you sucking up the spit that had dribbled against them making him almost burst.

There’s something suggestive in the way the colors meld on the skin. The deep red giving under your teeth to reveal the pale flesh, juices rushing your fingers and down your chin. He watches you laugh and jump when some of it drips down onto your chest and he watches you try to wipe it away while keeping your top in place.

He’d been stock still, leaned over the pizzas and it’s Dustin elbowing him that makes him realize he was for real staring, mouth agape and fingers clenched around greasy cardboard. You’ve been too busy laughing it up with Robin to notice him going absolutely insane.

“Dude get the fuck out of the way.” Dustin says under his breath and Eddie just slaps the back of his head.

“Language, asshole.” The ensuing shove and slap fight makes Eddie forget for a brief moment the erotic fruit imagery happening on one of Steve’s parents matching loungers. He lets Dustin win when he goes for Eddie’s hair and gets to run off with his pizza instead.

Eddie can hear the light edge of your laughter and another crunch when you bite through another not-so-ripe part of the nectarine and it sends him right into the pool. He knows he can hover by the edge and keep his interest hidden but also still remain conversational so he does a soft somersault into the deep end. Swims for the side you’re seated on and breaches the water as you decide to lean forward to dig through your big pool bag. Cleavage stares him down and he furiously rubs at his eyes and bitches about the chlorine content to cover the tears he’s sure are streaming down his face. There’s a rivulet of shine along the top of one breast, dipping right down the middle and he imagines running his tongue along it. Chasing that line of sweetness to the inside of your swim top to make you giggle like Robin does with her dumb jokes.

Another bite, more red disappearing to reveal pale pale pale. He wants to peel back that stupid coverup you have wrapped around your waist to reveal your pale thighs. He could rip it back with his teeth too, pull it clean off your body so he could revel in the softness of them. They’d give under his teeth and he’d be so careful leaving only the most perfect love bites.

“Eddie?”

His attention snaps to Robin where she stares at him with concern on her brow. “What?”

“I asked if you ate?”

“I will!” He whines at her and she catches his quick glance at you. Her mouth falls open slightly and he gives her a death glare, a warning to back off he’ll do it himself.

“Dustin’s gonna eat that whole pizza if you aren’t careful.” Robin sings at him and she gets up, tossing a wink his way.

“Not hungry?” You ask him through another bite and he catches a hint of deep pink under the pale. His thoughts race towards the unreachable, the warm pink hidden between your thighs and he wonders if the color is the same.

“Uh” his toes barely graze the bottom of the pool, his arms keeping him clutched to the side and floating “not for Pizza, no.”

Your giggle makes your nose scrunch under your big sunglasses and you hold your hand out, offending fruit held out at eye level for him. “Want a bite?”

The ever suffering sigh he suppresses rivals the eye roll he stops in its tracks. Of course he wants a bite. He wants to fit his teeth in the grooves you left there, taste your spit with the nectar and-

There’s no recovering from the show he’d give everyone if he got out of the water now so he just pulls himself even closer to the tiles. Squeezes his eyes shut tightly, tilts his head and shakes it quick. “I’m good, thanks.”

“Can I get you anything? Steve’s got a bunch of stuff in the house.” You scoot forward and that wrap inches up your legs and splits open to reveal one long calf.

“Could you get me another beer?” He says it a little too quick.

“Totally!”

He watches your hips sway the thin fabric around when you walk up towards the house and maybe he doesn’t hate it so much when it clings to your clammy skin. The swell of your hip holds the door open for Nancy and Eddie wishes it was his head pressed into your side.

He begins to wonder if it’s possible to be too horny.

There’s a jet of water at the back of his head suddenly and he turns to see Lucas holding a water gun.

“Quit sulking.” He jokes and Robin elbows him like she’s gotten him in on a secret.

You’ve obviously gotten distracted inside and he’s fine with that. Gave him time to calm down and roll his tongue back into his mouth after he obliterated Lucas and Robin in the water gun battle. He floats on his back under the midday sun, arms hooked over a float, positive he’s burning but too comfortable to care. The laughter at the other end of the pool is his white noise to drift off to until he feels a shift in the water and he’s being spun ever so slowly to face the steps in the shallow end.

“Sorry, I was talking to Max.” You come into view slowly, a smirk directed down at him while he blinks under his sunglasses.

“Thought you got lost in the mansion.”

You scoff and hold his beer up so he can see it. He lets out a small ‘oh!’ and holds out a hand for it. “Thank you.” He’s still spinning with lazy momentum so he only catches the tail end of your gaze before he takes a sip and almost gives himself a nosebleed. The rim of the bottle is sweet like a stone fruit and when he thrashes around to stand up in the water you’ve already made your way back to dry land.

The sky is painted in purples and blues and when the lightning bugs come out everyone wants the fire pit lit. Steve obliges, ever the host, and the ‘adults’ are left to yell at the ‘kids’ about not wasting all the marshmallows by throwing them at each other.

This close to fall the nights get cooler and you still haven’t put on anymore clothes. Eddie has been watching from his side of the pool, his safety barrier that Robin commented on.

“You’ll never get her from all the way over here, amigo.”

“I’m trying to not embarrass myself, hombre.”

From his post by the deep end he can see you shiver and try to wrap your thin coverup over your shoulders to no avail. Nancy offers her sweater and you roll your eyes and laugh, an obvious gesture between the two of you where you point out her tiny frame. Steve is in the middle of suggesting a blanket when Eddie jumps up from his lounge and yells about a flannel in his van.

“You don’t have to go all the way out front for me!” You holler after him and he waves you off. When he comes back he’s in his own hoodie, his old button up slung over his arm.

“See? No big deal.” He hands it over to you. “I needed my ho-oodie anyways.” He stutters hard when you stand to push your arms through and he can see your nipples pushing against your frankly too small swim top. The swell of your breast disappear from sight, along with the most important thing he’s seen all day when you tuck the flannel around you.

“Thank you so much, can’t believe I forgot real clothes.” You laugh and Eddie laughs and from behind him he can hear Robin laugh and his sandal covered foot reaches back and connects with her shin. You take the stack of graham crackers that Mike offers you before you pause and bury your nose into the crook of the elbow of his shirt. “Did you wear this recently?”

“M-me? Uh, I don’t-I mean-”

“It smells really good.”

Eddie laughs again and Robin yanks the back of his hoodie until he sits hard next to her in one of the plastic chairs.

“You sound like a moron.” She mimics his laugh while spearing a marshmallow.

“I don’t sound like that at all.” Eddie mirrors her movements. “I told you I didn’t want to embarrass myself.”

“Well you’re doing a stellar job.” She gives him a sarcastic thumbs up and Eddie decides to just sit and listen. He roasts his marshmallow to a crisp, the s’mores he makes turning into a runny mess that he shoves in his mouth too fast. He can see Robin and Steve share a look and before he can reach over to give Robin a shove, your gentle hand is in his face.

“You got a little….” Your index finger runs along the side of his cheek, puffed out with half chewed s’mores, to wipe off the smear of chocolate there. “There you go.” A smile while you hold your finger in front of him and surely you don’t expect him to lick your finger.

His eyes glance nervously between your face and your proffered finger and never once do you waver. Is that a hint of a dare he catches in your look? Could he inch his tongue out to lap at the pad of your finger? One long lick and he could suck the whole thing into his mouth and really cause a scene out here in the encroaching dark.

A yelp makes both of you jump, a tussle breaking out between the boys and Eddie breathes a sigh of relief knowing every eye was not on him taking the longest pause of his life. You wipe your finger off on a towel and he mourns the loss of an opportunity to taste you again. That brief flavor that lingered on his beer still branded into his mind, the idea of you stealing a sip on the way out to him to deliver it making him grin. Payment in the form of a kiss to glass, at least that’s how he was looking at it.

From his side he can feel two pairs of eyes burning into his skull but he refuses to look at the Wonder Twins and their big dopey eyes they’re probably giving him. Instead he grabs another handful of marshmallows and sets to roasting them, loftily avoiding any questions that might get directed his way.

The night ends late and it ends with the only other available ride being asleep on his couch, face smooshed into Robins shoulder.

“You can see if you can squeeze in with Nancy? But she’s got all the kids.” She whispers at you while Eddie lingers by the door. He’s already said his goodbyes but stopped when he heard you ask about a lift home.

“Uh, well…”

“You can see if you can still catch Eddie.” Robin’s voice sparkles with the ‘sudden’ idea. “I didn’t hear his van yet so he’s probably still out front.” There’s a light snore from Steve that you both giggle at and Eddie tries to open the door as quietly possible.

“Do you think he’d mind?”

“Who Eddie? No, he’d love to. Always trying to help out.”

Eddie rolls his eyes when he gets out in the front step. Could she lay it on thicker? He’s grateful for her slight meddling though when he hears the door open again and your quiet “oh!”

“You haven’t left yet!” You jog to his van where he’s just unlocked the door to lean in on his seat so he can act like he didn’t just hear your predicament.

“No, what’s up?”

“Would you mind dropping me off? I’m a little out of the way but I can pay you for gas.” You start to dig around in your big tote bag and he reaches over to still your hand.

“Don’t worry about it, I got you.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.” He hops in so he can reach over and unlock your door, and you run around the front of his van.

“I really appreciate it Eddie.” Your movement inside brushes up the smell of woodsmoke off of his borrowed flannel and your sunscreen and he hopes the scent stays in his van long after you leave.

“It’s really not a big deal.” He tries to be smooth with his exit, one hand on the back of your seat while he reverses into the road. “More than happy to help.” He flashes you a smile and his grip almost slips on his steering wheel when he catches the heavy stare aimed at him. He swallows thickly and averts his eyes to the road, the silence settling between you two not uncomfortable but certainly weighted.

“Eddie?”

“Hmm?”

“Are you gonna keep ignoring me now that I’m in your car?”

He’s happy there’s a red light he was already stopping for because he almost jams his foot through the firewall. “What?!”

Your laugh glitters in the dark cab and he can’t tear his eyes off you.

“You’ve been avoiding me all day.”

“No I haven’t. I helped you with the pizzas and I was talking to you in the pool.” He shakes his head at you. “You got me a beer!”

“Yeah and when I first showed you made a beeline for the kitchen.”

“I was…busy.”

“I’m sure.” Your smile is conspiratorial and he wishes he knew what you were thinking. “Do you know I went shopping for this bathing suit with Robin?” You tap his knee and point at the now green light before the cars behind him start honking.

“No.”

“Yeah, I went with her because we’d been talking you see.”

“As you girls are wont to do.”

“Hush, I’m not done. Anyways, we went shopping and she told me the funniest little thing. Really a coincidence.” The playful tone of your voice makes him vibrate with anticipation. “I’d already told her about my stupid little crush and she’s not very good a keeping secrets, not like that anyways.” He can see you leaning over to rifle through your bag, a scrap piece of paper and a pen held in your lap a moment later. “Really I thought she’d spill to you first but it seems I caught her on a good day.” You reach over and tuck the now folded piece of paper into his hoodie pocket and stay leaned in, face inches from his own. “But I picked it out for you. Did you like it?”

Did he like it.

Does he breathe? Does he blink? You’ve just uttered the words he’s been longing to hear for weeks now. For you. He wasn’t crazy and all of Robin and Steve’s elbowing was just bullying on their part. He tries to keep his breathing under control and spots your street sign in time to use as a distraction. “Uh, yeah it looks great.” He turns into your neighborhood and dials his music down and still can’t look over at your indulgent grin.

“Is that why you were hiding in the pool?”

“…maybe.”

“Oh that’s cute.” You’ve got a curl of his wrapped around your index finger, slowly spiraling it up till you brush his ear and he’s going to crumble to dust. Somehow he makes the turn onto your street while you’re breath tinted with beer and something sweet sweeps over his cheek. “Eddie?” Sugar could drip off of your words and he’d stick his tongue out for every last drop.

“Yeah?”

“I think you should look in your pocket.”

He jams his hand into his hoodie and pulls out the note now crumpled in his sweaty fist just as he pulls up to the front of your house. You don’t move while he unfolds it, his hair slowly unraveling from your finger. It’s your number and a little heart at the end, an ‘X O’ just under that.

“You wanna ask me out?”

It’s gum he realizes, that sweetness that floods his senses. So fruit and beer and gum and spit is what’ll kill him.

“Yeah I-I really do.” Later he’ll kick himself for how pathetic he sounds here but for now the deep smile you give him is all that matters. You let his hair go and grab your stuff to hop out of his van and he watches you walk around the front like it’s his own personal show.

“How’s Friday night sound? I get off work at 7.” When you lean on his rolled down window he gets a clear shot of cleavage between his flannel (that’s now yours, he’s never taking that back). His mouth waters and his eyes shoot back up to your face that tells him he’s been caught.

“I can do that.” He could also climb out of his window and maul you too if you wanted that.

“Cool.”

“I can pick you up at 8?”

You nod as you walk backwards towards the front steps of your house. “I’ll be ready.” The light flicks from the inside, someone keen to get you in. “You figure out dinner, I’ll just bring the legs again, deal?” You lift one behind you when you cross over the threshold, one last smile shot at him and it’s a bullseye right through his frontal lobe.

#Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson Fic #Eddie Munson Fluff #Eddie Munson Smut #Eddie Munson x Reader #My Work #My Fic

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rileyslibrary · 1 year

Note

teaching ghost how to make paper cranes but he keeps messing up with his huge ass hands <3333 (gn reader please! love your work❣️❣️)

*taps microphone* one “Ghost struggling” with a side of “Japanese paper folding art” coming right up. (A/N at the end)

———————————————————————

“This is even more annoying than Soap.”

“It’s not Soap’s fault you have sausages for fingers.” You murmur as you finish your tenth paper crane and set it on the conference table.

He examines the back of his hand as if he had just received a manicure. He then flips it over, palm facing up, and curls his fingers into a fist before releasing them.

“My fingers are not the problem,” he argues, “it’s these sheets; they are way too small.”

“Did you say ‘shits’ or ‘sheets’?” You quip, and he huffs at your comment. Yet, he picks up another piece of paper from the stack to try again.

You observe him as he leans over the table. He is pretty crafty when it comes to surviving in difficult situations; he can light a fire by creating a bow drill, build a shelter out of branches, and navigate the woods with a needle as a compass. But when it comes to these types of crafts, he struggles.

He starts folding again, a little gentler than before. Every time he completes a step, he pauses to assess his progress. He occasionally lets out a self-motivational hum and nods to himself.

But then something happens, and he loses it—a misaligned fold caused by his large hands or a paper rip as a result of his inexperience with handling such delicate materials. Sometimes he just feels discouraged, anticipating another failed try, and gives everything up.

Looking at his current attempt, you know the paper crane will fall apart. He completes his final folds and, as you anticipated, it comes loose. He groans and crumbles the paper.

“You can do it,” you assert. “I’ve seen you train unruly recruits with much more patience.”

“For fucks sake, Y/N,” he shouts, throwing his head back, “recruits are easier to shape into soldiers than moulding a fucking Post-it note into a duck.”

“It’s a crane,” you correct him; “ducks have another technique.”

“What’s the difference?” he complains. “Why do they have different folds if they are both birds?”

“For the same reason, an AK47 and an MP5 need different types of ammo, I guess.”

Despite his disappointment, he picks up another piece of paper and folds it again.

“Patience, Lt.,” you encourage him, “treat it as a recruit.”

He pauses for a minute, contemplating your advice, before he begins. He does not treat the paper as a target this time. He carefully pinches it with his fingers and folds it with his nails. In his eyes, the paper has taken on the appearance of something far too fragile. Something that needs to be helped and taken care of. It’s not against him, but with him—they’re allies working towards a common goal.

He completes it and places it in the palm of his hand, stretching his creation towards you. It’s not perfect, but nothing is.

“Excellent work, Lieutenant!” You cheer, and he proudly places his paper crane next to yours.

“It’s relaxing and meditative,” he admits; “all this folding and aligning makes you forget about things.”

“Things?” You ask as he pulls another sheet from the stack.

“You know,” he replies, staring at the paper in his hands, “bad things.”

You can see his emotions shifting through his eyes—they’re half-lidded as if they want to forget the atrocities they witnessed. His hands are fiddling with that paper; they are shameful hands in his mind—hands that participated in the worst horrors imaginable. They’re not worthy of making paper cranes.

“Paper cranes symbolise hope,” you comfort him, “and there’s a Japanese legend that says whoever makes a thousand of them will be granted a wish.”

His eyes light up, and he opens his lips to say something, but Soap enters the room. “What are you doing here?” He yells and sits on the table, right next to your paper cranes.

Ghost rolls his eyes at the sight of Soap but continues with his little project. “I’m making a thousand paper cranes to fulfil my wish.” He replies.

“What are you going to wish for, Lieutenant?” He asks, and Ghost replies with a stern “for you to get off my fucking back.”

You make quiet shushing noises to calm him down, and he inhales deeply.

“What is it that you want, Sergeant?” He finally asks, and Soap begins to report every problem around the base that would require Ghost’s attention.

“And the fridge broke last night, and all the meat has gone bad,” he concludes, “so it looks like we might have to eat a plant-based diet until we fix it.”

“That’s alright,” Ghost shrugs, “as long as we get our nutrients, we’ll be fine.”

Soap looks at you, dumbfounded. “Wow, Lt.!” he shouts, turning to Ghost, “these paper cranes have turned you into a bloody monk, haven’t they?”

“Paper crane, paper crane,” Ghost begins to chant as he folds, “go away, or you’ll end up with a fucking cane.”

“Ghost!” you cry. “Where is the patience and meditative state we discussed earlier?”

“I’m sorry,” he apologises and turns to Soap. “Namaste, sergeant,” he says and waves his hand in dismissal, “now fuck off.”

And who are you to tell him what to say or how to behave? You, too, are a project yourself, just like these cranes lined up in front of you. You look at the trash bin with all the papers he crumbled before completing his first successful paper fold art. Today he learned something new and joyful. Something that makes him feel content and proud rather than something that wakes him up in the middle of the night or, worse, prevents him from sleeping. Making a thousand paper cranes is so much better than watching him with that thousand-yard stare he gets after every mission.

Soap grabs one of your paper cranes, places it in his pocket, and leaves you two be.

Ghost completes his second successful paper crane and grabs another sheet. “Nine hundred and ninety-eight more to go,” he states, “you know, for that wish.”

———————————————————————

A/N: I had no idea how to make a paper crane, so I wanted to teach myself first in order to write this. And yes, I did it on a Post-it note (but not a sticky one). Also, this piece is 1000 words.

2K notes · View notes

explorevenus · 1 year

Text

something permanent ♡ yandere!leon kennedy x reader

nsfw (18+) - minors pls dni i will scream

this is a dark fic for a multitude of reasons. if any of the following bothers/triggers you, do not read: yandere!leon, stalking, kidnapping, drugging, corruption/training, forced daddy kink, noncon, forced breeding, body horror, gore, & blood

in other words-- DEAD DOVE, DO NOT EAT.

ahem. now that that’s over.

word count - 4.4k

description - nothing in leon’s life was ever permanent and his life circumstances made sure of that. over the years he was beaten down from a bright-eyed rookie police officer to a weary and angry shell of his former self. when a chance meeting brought you into his life, he knew what he had to do. he knew you had to be something permanent.

tags/warnings - yandere!leon, dark!leon, leon being patronizing and condescending and sickly sweet, fem/afab!reader, stalking, kidnapping, drugging, corruption/training, forced daddy kink, pet names (doll, sweetheart, princess, baby, puppy, etc.), noncon, forced breeding, housewife kink, body horror (spoiler alert he rips your IUD out with his bare hands), slight gore, blood, noncon, stockholm syndrome if u squint, dollification if u squint, descriptions of vomiting, no use of (Y/N)

a/n - ok i genuinely don’t know if anyone even wants this but i personally find it egregious how little yandere!leon content exists out there in this world because listen. i know a lot of people consider leon submissive and breedable but personally i believe this broken angry man just wants a sweet little thing to dote on and take care of to make him forget about the horrors of his life and he will stop at nothing to make that happen ♡ anyways. enjoy. and if it’s not ur cup of tea idc keep scrolling :^)

p.s. this is obviously a very canon-deviant, borderline crack fic so it’s not really established which leon this is outside of referring to the events of re2 being a long time ago, so go wild with your interpretation of that to read this as whichever leon is ur favorite ♡ i personally like to imagine post-re4 or infinite darkness leon !! ;w;

read part 2 here !! ♡

my masterlist ♡

my ao3 ♡

fic under the cut, thanks so much for reading and i hope u enjoy ♡

-venus ♡

You were slow to wake, which wasn't particularly unusual... as of late, but your body felt so heavy, like your muscles had dissolved into mush overnight. Consciousness gradually took its hold of you, and as it did, you began to realize that something seemed off. Different. Wrong, even. You peeked your eyes open, vision blurry with sleep, but you could see you were beneath your pink comforter, a plush of yours held closely to your chest, all normal so far...

But your walls aren't navy blue, they're white... They're supposed to be white--

You jolted wide awake, panic coursing through your weak body as you struggled to even sit up. That's when you noticed an unfamiliar, muscular arm draped over your waist, and that dialed up your anxiety about tenfold. It was hard to move, but you were able to turn your head enough to catch a look at the man it belonged to.

Strong, blond, maybe a bit tired in the eyes... maybe a bit familiar looking... but you were crying now, blurring your sight all over again.

"Shh, shh... you're okay, sweetheart, you're safe now," He hushed, holding you closely to him as you struggled. Smooching the top of your head, he spoke into your messy hair, "I've got you. I've got you, princess."

But... how? The last thing you remembered was tucking into your own bed, in your own apartment, and falling asleep there, how could you have possibly wound up in a stranger's bed with zero recollection of ever leaving yours? Your head spun as you tried and failed to fend off the unwanted affection with weak arms. His hold on you didn't dare budge as he continued to coo softly into your ear, to reassure you that you were safe, that he wouldn't let anyone, or anything, hurt you.

The anxiety stewing within you finally reached a tipping point, twisting your stomach into tight knots, and that's when you spoke your first words since you'd awoken. "I-I'm gonna throw up," You wept, clawing weakly at the covers and, well, at him, for freedom.

Thankfully he was quick to act, scooping you into his arms as he sat up and rose from the bed, carrying you to the adjoined bathroom. When he turned the light on, you managed to get a better look at his face as you passed by the mirror, and it took you a second to recognize him, partly due to your state of delirium, but primarily because you only knew him very vaguely. You had only met him once at work many months ago, when he'd sparked up a conversation with you as you made him his coffee. After that, he became a regular at the café you worked at-- you remembered his name was Leon.

So why were you waking up in his bed, with your belongings lying around like you'd lived here the whole time?

Your knees hit the tile and you began retching immediately, flinching as he reached forward to collect your hair away from your face. Puking on an empty stomach is never a fun time, but your nerves were alight with panic and every time you reminded yourself of your predicament, a new wave of nausea would crash over you. He rubbed your back sweetly, but it didn't help.

Once the vomiting eventually subsided, an awful, hollow pain took place of it. Your thoughts were running at a thousand miles per hour. You didn't have the time to acknowledge it, let alone nurse it, outside of clutching your shirt at the waist.

"Let me get you some water, babe," Leon said as he hesitantly stood from your side, eyeing you worriedly like you'd just fall to pieces if he let you out of his sight. "You poor thing..."

But all you could think about was getting out of here. "N-No, no, what time is it? I have to get to work--"

"I don't think so, sweetheart," He interrupted. "You're sick, you should be in bed."

"I'm fine," Much to the protest of your jellied legs, you pushed yourself up from the floor and fought through the head rush in an attempt to slip past him, but he simply caught you at the waist and brought you to a halt. Your ears were ringing, the room spinning around you, and you still weren't sure how to interpret what was even going on here. "L-Let go of me!" You cried out.

He simply hushed you, holding you tightly to his chest and petting your hair as you writhed, failing miserably to get him off of you. "Don't worry about work, okay? Just rest up and get better. I'll call them for you."

Your stomach sank even further-- what the fuck is happening right now?

Despite your thrashing he managed to lead you back to the bed as gently as one would fine china, scooping you up into his arms so he could lay you down exactly where you'd awoken earlier. Your chest heaved with sobs as you shrank into yourself in an effort to get away from him.

His eyes left you for just a moment as he reached for the covers, no doubt to tuck you in-- in a split second decision, you seized that time to scramble out of his bed and break for the door. Sadly, as perhaps you should have seen coming, he was more than strong and fast enough to catch up to you, even caught off guard. As soon as your shaking hand made contact with the cool metal doorknob, he halted you where you stood with a bruising grip on your bicep.

You cried out, trying in vain to peel yourself away from him, but it was no use.

"Come on, silly baby, you heard me," He tsked, dragging you back toward the bed. "No need to be running off anywhere, especially on a sour stomach."

"P-Please--" You gasped through tears.

"I'm sorry, little one, but that's final," Leon hummed with a patronizing but oddly sweet tone. It was as if he were scolding a temperamental child.

He basically wrestled you back into the bed, enveloping you tightly in his arms as he laid down beside you. You struggled against his grasp, but again, it was absolutely no use. He simply pet your hair and pressed soft kisses along your cheek and jaw, attempting to soothe you with restraint and unwanted affection.

You sucked in a labored breath, hiccupping, "Don't do this to me, please don't do this to me... I-I just wa-wanna go home, jus' wanna go h-home... Leon please--"

"Shh... oh, good heavens. You are home, princess," He mused, brushing away a stream of your hot tears with his thumb. "You'll see. Just relax and let me take care of you."

Nothing in Leon's life was ever permanent.

All he'd ever wanted was the American dream, to serve his community and meet a pretty girl to share his life with, to settle down in a big house with a fenced yard and two or three little Kennedys running around, maybe a dog. What he wouldn't give to come home at the end of a long day to his beautiful wife, belly swollen with his children, preparing dinner in the kitchen while the existing little ones play with their toys in the other room.

He would enter, slipping off his shoes with a relaxed sigh and a "Honey, I'm home!" to which the aforementioned little ones would rush to the door to hug him at his knees. He'd put one up on his shoulders while the other tugged at his hand, turning into the kitchen to give his beautiful wife a kiss. She would ask of his day and he would say it was good, but better now that he's home with her. With his free hand he would cradle her belly and ask "What's for dinner, you two?" to which she would reply "Your favorite," and as he smiled and thanked her with a kiss he would be silently plotting to thank her properly after the kids are asleep by fucking her full of his cum.

That was all he'd ever wanted. But, day after day after god forsaken day, the chance grew slimmer and slimmer until it had shriveled into something molecular. He didn't even get through his first day at the police station before everything went to shit.

Because of this, Leon began to lose himself over the years. He was no longer the bright-eyed rookie officer looking forward to his even brighter future. He was a broken man, worn down to the bone by years of death, plague, losing everyone he'd ever loved in one way or another-- Leon couldn't take the loss anymore. He wanted-- no, needed-- something permanent, something to give him even the slightest taste of that dream he once had.

When he met you, it wasn't even a question anymore. He knew you were the one. One way or another, he would have you.

He couldn't court you in the traditional way, of course-- it was too dangerous for you to be seen with him. After all, everything he'd ever touched had a way of turning to shit. So, it began with following you home after work so he'd know where you lived. Soon after that he would let himself in when you weren't home-- you weren't smart enough not to keep your key under the mat, furthering how sure he felt that you needed him to take care of you-- he would take little things of yours home with him just to have your scent around.

At first it was just little things like near-empty bottles of shampoo and stray pairs of panties from your laundry basket. Then it was sweaters from your closet, chewed gum and used flossers from your trash can. He'd pay close attention to your grocery lists and what you kept in your pantry so he'd know what kind of food you liked.

When you did come home, he would sneak out quietly and watch you through your windows, familiarizing himself with your routine. The first thing you'd do when you came home from a long day of work was kick off your heels and change into something comfortable to do your yoga. After a while, you'd pull yourself up from the pink mat and cook dinner. After you'd eat, you'd relax with a book or a video game for a bit before taking a shower and changing into pajamas. Then, you'd brew yourself a mug of tea and retire to the bedroom for the evening where you'd watch documentaries or put on white noise until you eventually fell asleep.

At 7:00 a.m., you'd wake up in the morning and do it all over again.

All he could think about was what he'd do when he finally had you all to himself. Under his roof, you would never have to work another day in your life. Gone would be the days of pouring coffee and baking pastries for random idiots who treated you like shit. All you would ever have to worry about is being pampered, having your entire day to yourself, waiting for him to come home, spending all the money on his credit cards.

And carrying his children, of course.

So, as he held you tightly in his arms while you sobbed and begged to go back to that tiny apartment, all he could think about now was how to fix this. How to convince you he really loved you, how to make you feel truly at home.

The first few weeks were hard for him. Really, really hard.

You were refusing to eat, laying wide awake at night, swinging rapidly between sobbing, screaming and complete apathy. Sometimes he would come into the bedroom and catch you fiddling with the window, or attempting to circumvent the lock on the door by stuffing the mechanism with tissue. You would hit him, kick at him and spit in his face, even as you grew weaker and weaker with malnourishment, not that you really stood a chance before that anyway.

Still, it was hard to watch you shrink in your clothes. It was hard to see your cheeks hollowing by the day. It was hard to hold back your brittle hair while you'd vomit from the nerves, still trying to fight him off of you. It was hard to watch your body tense every time he entered the room.

Just when he'd began to lose hope, he discovered a neat little tool to help you behave. In some countries it was called "devil's breath." The slightest bit of powder could be sprinkled into your water, or over your food, or even into your clothes-- it absorbs through the skin-- and within minutes it would render you quite pliable. Leon didn't want to drug you, of course-- he liked you better when you were lucid-- but it certainly felt like a good place to start, a helpful tool to train you.

When he'd give you a dose, you would let him coddle you without incident. You would lay limp on his chest while he played with your hair and felt your soft skin beneath your shirt. You would allow him to spoon food or tip water into your mouth. You would let him dress you up like his perfect little dolly. You would blush and whimper and whine, and more importantly, not fight him, while he fucked you full of his cum, just like his dream.

There was just one problem-- after about two months of trying daily, it would seem his seed wasn't taking.

Your heart pounded in your ears as the sound of Leon's footsteps nearing the bedroom door grew louder. You glanced over at the clock-- it was 6:15. He was off work for the evening and you knew what that meant.

The lock clicked quietly before the door creaked open, revealing your captor.

"Honey, I'm home!" He smiled excitedly, approaching the bed with a glass of water in hand.

You knew it was for you. You knew he had done something to it. You also knew you didn't intend to drink it.

"W-Welcome home, daddy," You said in a near whisper, forcing a half-smile. While you had definitely lost the majority of the fight in you, that didn't mean it didn't nauseate you to comply with his wishes. "Did you have a good day?"

Tucking your hair behind your ear, he offered you the glass of water while he replied as he always did, "My day was fine, but it's so much better now that I'm home with you, princess."

You smiled at him like it was the first time he'd ever said it, taking the glass with a shaking hand. You stared at it for a moment before mustering up the courage to say, "D-Daddy, I don't want the medicine anymore. I don't think I need it, and it doesn't make me feel good."

"You don't want your medicine anymore, baby?" He asked, tipping your chin up to look at him. You shook your head, rounding your eyes to convince him that much more. "Well, alright, but you have to promise to behave for me."

Now you were nodding, a little bit too eagerly. It was sort of humiliating. "I promise, daddy, I'll behave! I don't want the medicine anymore. I promise I'll be good."

With a proud grin he took the glass from your hand and set it on the nightstand, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "That's what I like to hear, babydoll. You know, good little girls get rewarded..." His large hand spread over your thigh, inching up toward the hem of your baggy shirt.

You stiffened, but didn't push him away. He smirked, dipping his head down to kiss at your neck, large hand sliding up your shirt until he nudged it up enough to pull it off. You were bare for him now, save for panties, and given your experience with him you knew it wouldn't be long until those were discarded somewhere across the room. With a gentle hand at your shoulder he pushed you onto your back, your legs hanging off the side of the bed, and you were curious where he was going with that until he sank to his knees in front of you and began pulling your panties down.

Your eyes screwed shut, thankful that he couldn't see your face as he spread your thighs and greeted your cunt with a slow lick up the length of you. You gripped the sheets with white knuckles, pretty much holding your breath to keep yourself from kicking him away from you. His fingertips buried into the plush skin of your thighs to hold you apart as he began to eat you out more passionately, suckling your clit up into his mouth and lapping at your hole like he was starving.

If there was one thing you would give him credit for, it would be his skilled tongue. Perhaps he was crazy and obsessed, but he certainly knew how to translate that obsession into something that benefitted you both. You wouldn't have succumbed to it so willingly if he weren't at least good at it.

Still, it was hard to feel any enthusiasm. His attention might have felt good physically, but it certainly didn't feel good mentally.

You flinched when you felt a fingertip prodding at your cunt. He pulled away just far enough to tsk, "Relax and let me make you feel good, puppy. You said you would behave for me."

"Y-Yes, daddy," You muttered, continuing to clutch the sheets as you tried to control your breathing.

His thick index finger sank into you down to the knuckle, almost immediately curling up to brush against the spongy spot within you that made you see stars. As much as you tried to fight it you gasped, quickly bringing a hand up to cover your mouth, but the sound you'd made hadn't slipped past Leon. You felt him smirk against your skin as he pressed sloppy kisses to your thigh, reaching up with his free hand to force yours away from your face.

"Don't be shy, princess," He spoke against the inside of your thigh, trailing kisses up to your clit. "I want to hear just how good it feels."

You whimpered, hips squirming into his affection, and he chuckled approvingly, bringing his mouth back to you fully to continue eating you out while he fucked his finger into you. Soon after his index finger was joined by his middle, and you keened as he reached more deeply into you than he possibly ever had.

He pumped his fingers in and out for a moment, alternating between lapping at your cunt and kissing your thighs, and just as the coil inside began to tighten he suddenly... stopped?

You waited for a second, catching your breath, expecting him to continue any minute. But he didn't. Instead, he took on a tone that froze your blood as he asked, "Sweetheart, what is this?"

Then, you felt a sharp tug at your insides that made you yelp.

"Leon!" You shouted at him in a break of character, attempting to scoot away from him, but he grabbed your hips to still you. "That hurt!"

Another tug. You cried out, trying as you might to snap your thighs shut and push him away, but he wasn't budging.

"You never told me you had an IUD."

"Well, I do, so stop yanking on it! It hurts--"

The next words out of his mouth truly fucking broke you.

"That just won't do. It's no wonder you're not pregnant yet."

You sat up immediately. "Pregnant?"

He ignored you, tugging at it again. You screamed.

"L-Leon, don't! I can get it taken out by a doctor, I swear, I'll get it taken out!"

He shook his head. "And wait even longer to knock you up, pretty girl? Not happening. It's coming out now."

You screamed again, thrashing in his hold. He withdrew from inside you for just a moment, pinning you to the bed by your hip while he reached for your panties on the floor and shoved them into your mouth to silence you.

"There, there, angel. It'll be over before you know it, like ripping off a band-aid," He hummed, pressing a kiss to your forehead as you screeched through the cotton. "I'm gonna give you my babies, I promise. Gonna make you a mommy, and we’ll be so happy."

Before you could properly react he forced his fingers back inside you, yanking at the device until you felt a sickening tear and the unmistakable heat of blood rushing out of you. You curled into yourself, wailing, gasping for breath through the panties in your mouth as he withdrew his blood-soaked fingers, holding up the gory IUD in the light.

"There you are, princess. All better," He smiled contently, discarding the device on the bedside table. "You did so good. You were so brave for me."

You were bawling, shrieking through your gag as your vision blurred into white. Leon kissed up your thighs before standing to unbuckle his belt, and he didn't get much further than that before the panic and agonizing pain got to you and you lost consciousness.

You woke up the next morning with your thighs sore and sticky with blood. You lifted the comforter to see a deep red pool seeping out from between your legs, and the more you started to wake up, the more aware you became of the pain. You were cramping terribly, sweating buckets, your ears were ringing and you felt weak. Leon had left for work already, so it was up to you to get yourself to the bathroom.

Your entire body was trembling as you stumbled out of the bed, dripping blood in a trail behind you as you dragged yourself to the bathroom and crawled into the bathtub. You peeled off your pajama shorts and panties, watching in horror as a mixture of thick blood and cum spilled out of you and ran slowly toward the drain. Once again, you began to cry. Obviously he'd had his way with you after you passed out, buckets of blood be damned.

Even with your foggy, staticky brain, you couldn't stop thinking. Thinking about the fact that he had no intention of taking you to a hospital, so there was really no telling what might happen with your profusely painful and bleeding sex. Thinking about how fucking screwed you were now without your IUD, your best defense against falling pregnant with your captor's child. Thinking about the fact that if he wouldn't even take you to a doctor for this, he must be expecting a home birth if you were to become pregnant, which you doubted he was qualified to handle and therefore had a very good chance to result in your slow, painful death.

You couldn't stand the shivering anymore, so you filled the bathtub with hot water. It felt nice, though it was rather gross that the water was stained a glassy rose color with your own blood, not that you really had the strength to care in the moment.

In fact, you didn't have much strength at all. It wasn't long before you found yourself losing consciousness once again.

"Fuck, princess, can you hear me?"

You were trying to open your eyes, to twitch a finger, anything, but it was so hard.

"Shit. Stay right here, babydoll, I'm gonna get you some help, okay? I promise. I never meant to hurt you... shit...”

You heard some shuffling, pacing and possibly Leon talking to himself in the other room. You figured he was trying to decide whether or not to take you to a hospital. Part of you hoped he would and the other part of you hoped he would just let you die there. More than anything, you just wished you would have let him drug you in the first place so maybe you wouldn't be in this level of pain.

After what could have very well been 20 seconds or 20 minutes, Leon kneeled beside the tub and draped a cold washcloth over your forehead, reaching into the bloodied water to pull the drain. With what little control you had over your own movement you managed to crack your eyes open, which seemed to please him.

"Oh thank god... thank god, baby. I almost thought I lost you there," He huffed, voice shaking. "Listen to me closely, princess. Stay with me. I'm going to take you to a doctor but you have to be a good girl, okay? You have to be good for me and go along with what I say, even if it isn't true. I'm just doing what's best for you so you can get all better, okay?"

You nodded weakly. You weren't in any position to put up a fight, and all you really wanted was an end to the pain. Besides, he couldn't supervise you constantly at the hospital. There had to be at least some opportunity to tell someone what he'd done to you.

He somehow managed to dress you in some comfortable clothes of his, a soft black t-shirt that hung halfway down your thighs and a pair of black shorts with some little socks of yours to protect your feet. Then, he carried you princess-style out to the car where he bundled you up in the passenger seat and buckled you in.

As he pulled hurriedly out of the driveway, he made a phone call to someone.

"Hey, it's me... I need the best people we have in the infirmary, stat. I'm on my way now," He spoke sternly into the phone, white knuckling the wheel. "I'm fine, it's not for me, it's my girlfriend. It's a long story that I'll tell you when I get there, but she's bleeding pretty bad. I found her unconscious when I came home... I appreciate it, thanks. See you in 10."

Leon reached over the center console to squeeze your thigh in reassurance.

"You're gonna be just fine, princess. I'm gonna make sure they make you all better, okay?"

Your stomach sank. He obviously wasn't taking you to a hospital. From the sounds of it he was taking you somewhere he had a good amount of leverage, somewhere everyone knew him, held him in high regard and wouldn't dare challenge his word, let alone take yours over his. You slumped to the side, resting your head on the cool window with a quiet bonk. Leon was quick to ask if you were okay but you couldn't muster up a response. Your ears began ringing again and the world around you collapsed into tunnel vision.

part 2 !!

#venustext #sintext #resident evil #leon kennedy #yandere!leon kennedy #dark!leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #yandere!leon kennedy x reader #dark!leon kennedy x reader #dead dove do not eat #something permanent

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ramblingthoughtsofayoungadult · 6 months

Text

All Press Is Good Press

A/N: This is part 2 to Bad PR. It feels like it took me way too long to write but I hope you enjoy it. Also, it's written with a black reader in mind and all credit goes to the original creators of the series and gifs.

Warnings: Some swearing, sensuality, and I was sick when I wrote this.

Word count: 9.3k

“Run!” I shouted, shoving Marie behind me as Luke slowly approached us.

My heart rate had slowed down dangerously, and I could hear my blood pulsing in my ears. Before I knew it, Luke’s body was ablaze and we flew at each other. At the last second, I set off my ability to block him from burning me and grabbed his shoulders.

“Luke, breathe, it’s me, Y/N!” I pleaded.

Luke’s eyes were both angry and hollow. “You were a part of this, you knew about this.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about but, if you extinguish yourself, we can talk about it,” I tried.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.”

He yelled as the fire around him increased and I felt my ability pushing against my skin as if it would rip itself out of me. But, I was desperate to put out his flames. I’d done it before and I could do it, had to do it again. The wind whirled around us and from the corner of my eye, I could see papers, fire, and other objects flying around us. Suddenly, the air around me felt hotter and something dark in Luke’s eyes flashed.

I screamed as we flew several yards and he shoved me into the hard floor. Suddenly, the air stopped moving around me and I felt like I was suffocating under the heat. Luke kneeled above me and slowly wrapped his hand around my throat.

“Luke…please…stop,” I begged, his hand warming with each word.

I wanted to scream as he seared my neck but as soon as it started, it was over. Luke was suddenly off me and Jordan was standing in front of me in their masculine form.

“Y/N, get out of here!” they yelled.

“ I can’t believe you did that!” they seethed at me, moving as quickly as possible through the Crimefighting building hallway.

It was the day after the joint interview with Marie and I hadn’t been able to sleep the night before. I knew Jordan would be furious since I told them that I would get Marie to recant everything.

“Jordan, I’m sorry, I can explain.”

At that, they stopped and whirled around to face me, fury in their eyes. “Okay, explain. Explain how you and that freshman decided to royally screw me over and keep me at Number Five.”

“It’s not that simple, Marie has way more going on and she’s not trying to hurt anyone.”

“And what about you? You were already Number Three and then you play along to kick me out of the number two spot?” They laughed humorlessly. “And the fact that they had you in white, making you look like a saint and show off the burn scar and the cast to highlight your sacrifice, genius.”

The more they spoke, the more I wanted to cry. “I know it’s messed up and I know that this has made things difficult for you, but I can fix it, I promise.”

“Like Liza would let you.”

“I don’t have to do everything she tells me.”

“But you do everything she tells you. You say what she wants you to say, you post what she wants you to post, you wear what she wants you to wear, and you date who she wants you to date.”

“You’re the one who broke up with me, remember? You’re the one who said you wanted me to focus on my career, right, well, that’s what’s a part of it.” I adjusted my bag on my shoulder. “Just forget I said anything, I won’t bother you again.”

“Y/N…”

“Y/N, over here!”

I flinched at the blinding camera lights but managed to smile, hand on my hip as I tried to reach all the best angles. The past couple of weeks had been a blur of flashing cameras, interviews, and tragedy. For some reason, school officials thought the best way to acknowledge all that was with a fundraising gala slash memorial for Brink.

All the photographers were yelling different instructions and Liza hovered a few feet behind me, muttering notes. Turn my head this way, squint a little, laugh a little It was eerily easy to smile for pictures, laugh when Andre messed up a TikTok challenge, and joke with some people on campus. For once, all the noise was nice, it was like a shield from anything bad. Then, when I was alone in my room, the thoughts came in.

You’re a fraud. You should’ve partnered with Marie to give Jordan the credit during that interview. You weren’t strong enough to beat Luke, you never were. You’re weak and spineless. What did Jordan ever see in you? Sometimes tears came, sometimes they didn’t. It was probably a good thing that I was forced into attending this event.

Liza had insisted I attend the gala that night, arguing that it would be bad publicity if one of Brink’s top students did not attend. Plus, it would not give the public a chance to see Andre and me interacting in a formal setting.

After a couple of more pictures, I gestured to my parents, who were standing by Liza, to join me. They hesitated but Liza shooed them in my direction and they flanked me. When I took a second to look at them, they both looked so happy, not the kind of happy that I feigned but, true happiness.

“You make this look easy sweetheart,” Dad chuckled.

I sighed. “It’s all practice, Dad.”

“Mr. Y/L/N, how do you feel about Y/N being a Guardian of Godolkin?” a reporter shouted.

“Couldn’t be prouder of my little girl!” He called back.

“She’s always been a hero and this is just another time she’s proved it!” Mom added, squeezing my side.

I smiled sheepishly, the urge to tell the truth about that day bubbling in the back of my throat. Instead, I said, “It was nothing, I was trying to protect Marie and she didn’t really need my help.”

Then, the crowd started to roar, and I glanced down the red carpet to see Andre and Polarity approaching us. They both had wide PR-approved smiles on as they posed together. When they reached us, Polarity shook hands with Dad, hugged Mom, and kissed my cheek.

“It’s great to see you again,” he whispered before pulling away.

“You too, Mr. Anderson,” I replied.

Liza quickly coordinated our parents to move further up the red carpet and instructed Andre to stand on my right. “Her left is her best side.”

He slowly wrapped his arm around my shoulders and I tried to relax my shoulders as the camera flashes continued. I couldn’t have been more grateful to Liza for not making us match. Instead, Andre’s light blue suit and my metallic silver halter gown were complimentary.

“Andre, over here!”

“They look great together!”

“Andre, give her a kiss!”

Andre laughed. “Not into PDA!” he called.

“And we’re here as friends,” I added with a smile.

Fortunately, Andre and I never had to do anything too intimate to garner attention. A few social media posts here and there and suddenly, we had the public filling in the dots that Vought wanted them to.

After what felt like an eternity, Liza hurried us into the venue. The lighting was nice, not too bright nor too dark. Servers looped the area with flutes of champagne bubbling on top of their trays. A few alumni and upper-crust students were already mingling, all dressed in tuxes and gowns.

“You two did perfectly, social media is going crazy about this,” Liza reported without looking up from either of her phones.

“It’s not hard with a face like this,” Andre joked as he stroked his jaw.

I laughed. “Please, I’m literally outshining you right now.”

“I must say, you two do make a good couple,” Polarity commented.

I smiled tightly. “Thanks.”

“Now, don’t forget, we need you to get at least five shots together interacting with other attendees. Make it look natural, we don’t want to ruin the illusion,” Liza instructed.

“Illusion is the right word,” I muttered.

Liza arched an eyebrow at me and I stared back at her, offering a fake smile with a tilt of my head. “Watch the attitude, Y/N.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be delightful and charming to everyone I encounter,” I said.

For a second, I glanced at Mom and thought I saw something flash across her eyes. Before I could address it, Andre gently pulled me further into the party.

Schmoozing was an incredibly easy task. All one needed to do was smile, repeat the last thing the other person said as a question, and thank them for coming to the event. Andre and I spoke with around ten people, ensuring pictures were taken before we were left alone.

“Nice job, partner,” Andre teased.

“Back at ya,” I said, leaning on the table closest to us. “How long do we have to keep this up?”

“An hour but, this,” Andre snagged a couple of champagne flutes from a passing server, “should make it go quicker.” I smiled as I accepted the glass. “Thank you, but I meant this.” I gestured between the two of us.

“What? Is there already trouble in the water?”

“Please, Andre, I know I’m not your type. I’m not white nor am I taken.”

Andre almost choked on his champagne and wiped his face. “What the hell are you talking about? “

I rolled my eyes. “Cate’s my best friend, she tells me everything. But going after your best friend’s girlfriend, that’s pretty low.”

“It’s complicated,” Andre muttered.

I shrugged and downed the champagne. “How about we give it another couple of weeks and then you and Cate can go official and you won’t have to deal with fake cheating rumors?”

“Y/N, I know this is a bad situation for both of us but, we’ve got to play it right.”

Play it right, that’s all anyone was ever interested in. Finding the best angle or the best spin on things. It made me sick to my stomach knowing that all this had taken up the past five years of my life.

“Don’t worry, I won’t use this as leverage to make you look bad,” I assured, setting my empty glass on a passing server’s tray.

Andre opened his mouth to say something but cut himself off. “Sorry, I got to run to the bathroom. See you later?”

“Sure.”

As soon as he left, Dean Shetty and Marie appeared at my table.

“Y/N, you are a star tonight,” Dean Shetty complimented, giving me a quick hug.

Dean Shetty had been incredibly attentive in the last couple of weeks. Since the Luke incident, she insisted we had weekly check-ins and when I mentioned my sleeping issues, she gave me a prescription.

“We can’t have one of our Guardians of Godolkin losing any sleep,” she’d said.

With everything going on, it was nice to have someone as stable as Dean Shetty in my ear and in my corner. In our check ins, she truly listened to me and helped me make sense of the mess in my head.

“Thank you, Dean, you don’t look too bad yourself,” I replied.

“Y/N, wow,” Marie greeted.

I smiled and gave her a side hug. “I could say the same to you.”

She truly did look stunning in her floor-length red corset dress, her twists pulled away from her face. Her shoulders slumped slightly as she picked up the skirt to stand next to Dean Shetty.

A server paused at our table. “More champagne?”

I thanked her as I plucked another flute off the tray and started sipping.

“You should be proud of Marie, Y/N, she’s done wonderfully tonight with our donors,” Dean Shetty said, squeezing Marie’s hand.

The freshman smiled sheepishly. “I listened to Dean Shetty’s advice.”

“You’re a quick learner and humble, that’s good,” I said, pointing at her.

“I must also say that I am grateful that you joined us tonight. It would not have been the same without both of our Guardians of Godolkin,” Dean Shetty commented.

No matter how much time passed, the name still made me cringe. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Marie scratch the back of her neck and stare down at the table.

“Of course. Professor Brink was a large influence on my life and I’m glad that I was able to be here, honor his memory, and hopefully get more money for the school,” I replied.

Dean Shetty seemed pleased and grabbed her clutch. “Now, if you would excuse me, I have a few other alumni to schmooze.

As soon as she walked away, Marie slid closer to me. “How are you holding up?”

“Great.” I downed the last of my champagne and used a breeze to slip another flute from a passing server’s tray into my hand.

“Not to be a prude but, shouldn’t you slow down?” Marie asked.

I smirked at her. “Don’t worry, Marie, I know my limits. This isn’t enough to get me to trip in my heels but hey, more people in your favor.”

Marie sighed. “I’m sorry about you getting dragged into all this. This is never what I wanted.”

“You didn’t drag me into anything; I knew what I was doing when I went along with the story,” I assured her. “Besides, you came to GOD U to be a hero, and you can’t be a hero without attention.”

“But this wasn’t my plan. I was supposed to keep my head down and survive,” Marie argued.

“Well, things rarely go to plan and your success has been fast-tracked, congratulations,” I muttered.

“What’s going on? You seem a lot different since the last time we talked,” Marie commented.

I swirled my glass. “Marie, I’m going to give you some advice, if you want to be a hero, you have to make sacrifices.” “That’s something Brink wrote,” Marie thought out loud.

“And he was right, but he left out the part where you don’t get to decide what to sacrifice. He also forgot to mention how you are a commodity and these people…these people who tell you that you are perfect and special turn around and say that there’s this one thing holding you back. You can keep this one thing but, you lose the money, the reputation, the followers, and the fans, and a hero is nothing without any of that,” I confessed.

“But, you have a choice,” Marie countered.

No, I didn’t, no one did. But Marie would learn that eventually, and maybe we could sit down one day and compare notes. I laughed humorlessly at the thought and sipped more champagne.

When would this night end?

“Excuse me, are you Marie Moreau?” Mom asked, sidling next to me.

Marie nodded. “Yes, I am.”

“I must say it is a pleasure to meet you. I am Mrs. Y/L/N,” she greeted, extending a hand to Marie.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Marie replied, shaking her hand.

“Has Y/N been showing you the ropes of all this?” Mom asked, gesturing around us.

“Yes, Y/N has been great with everything. I’m learning a lot from her,” Marie stated.

I straightened up slowly and started drawing patterns on the tablecloth. “She’ll be Vought’s new favorite before we know it.”

Marie flinched and her eyes widened while Mom looked at me as though I said there was a headless chicken doing laps outside. Honestly, I did not mean to be so surly but the words just slipped out.

“Kidding,” I sang, downing the last of my champagne.

“Do you mind if I borrow my daughter for a moment?” Mom asked.

“Of course not.”

Mom slowly guided me away from the table, taking a moment to pause and smile at the cameras as we made our way through the space. Her grip on my arm was firm----the way it tended to be whenever she was upset with something I did. When we were out of earshot from enough people, she turned to me.

“Y/N, what is going on with you?” she asked.

“Nothing, I’m having a great night. I’m wearing Laquan Smith, I’m drinking expensive champagne, everyone’s happy and smiling tonight; what else could I want?” I argued.

“Do not lie to me, Y/N. You’ve looked miserable all night and I can’t stand it. Now tell me, you can tell me anything, honey, you know that.”

Before Vought noticed me, it was relaxing to talk to my mom about everything: school, stress, crushes, and the future. Now, it felt like if I was not super positive, I would add a burden to her and Dad. They were doing so well now, and I was not going to mess that up. I could handle this, I’ve always been able to handle this.

Then, when I looked back up at her, there was so much warmth and concern in her aging mahogany eyes. There was the slightest hint of a frown on her forehead and I suddenly felt this strange invisible weight lift from my shoulders.

“I messed up so bad, Mom,” I whispered.

“What do you mean, sweetheart?”

“I messed up with everything. I’m barely hanging on in all my classes, my footwork is sloppy in training, and I totally screwed over Jordan, and they didn’t do anything to deserve it,” I rambled.

Mom gently moved her hands to grasp my shoulders and pulled me into a hug. Tears burned my eyes but they wouldn’t fall as I embraced her warmth and the scent of peonies and lilac. She ran her hand over my head and hummed.

“Nothing you said is anything you can’t fix,” she stated.

I slowly pulled away and looked up at her. “What?”

Mom sighed. “This is not the first time you have met a setback, Y/N. You’ve had plenty of them, from racist classmates to adjusting when Dad lost his job. You can improve your grades and work on your skills.”

At her words, I nodded, wondering if I would know exactly what to say at that age.

“What about Jordan?”

“I know they make you happy and you would light up in their presence. So, I don’t think you two can’t make up,” Mom admitted.

I rolled my eyes. “But what about Liza? If I go against her, I’ll lose all the backing and…and you and Dad will----”

Mom held up a hand. “First of all, never roll your eyes at me. Second, your father and I will be fine. Our mortgage is paid, we both work now, and we’ll do just fine. Have you been worried about us all this time?”

I nodded. “I know you really struggled before the Compound V took and I didn’t want to ruin anything for you two. You’ve been so happy, and I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

“Y/N, you could never disappoint us. You have been so, so amazing your entire life. We’ve been so happy because we are just that proud of you and we know you’ll do amazing things,” Mom insisted. “Your happiness is important too, don’t ever forget that.”

On instinct, I hugged her so tightly that I thought I would crush her. But, she patted my back to let me know that she was okay. Her laugh made me laugh and I felt like an idiot when I couldn’t stop laughing even when I pulled away.

“But who says Jordan would take me back? They broke up with me and I played along with Vought and that must have hurt them.”

“Try not to overthink it. Come on, their memorial video is about to start.”

As the video played, I could barely focus on not looking at Jordan. They were sitting at a table with their parents across the room. Both were whispering animatedly to a suit while Jordan sat across from them, looking like they wanted to cry. Jordan rarely cried, not even when they dislocated their shoulder during a sparring match sophomore year. Their parents were always a difficult topic, and I was stunned when Jordan brought me to meet them during a parent's weekend.

“Just try not to make any reference to my other form,” they’d insisted.

“Okay, I won’t,” I’d replied.

The Lis were nice enough but, they always referred to Jordan as “their son” or “my boy” or “he”. It made me nauseous just thinking about it and how many breakdowns they’d had about their parents not accepting them. I wanted to hug them or distract them with top-shelf liquor. Then, Jordan looked up at me and I knew exactly how deer felt in the headlights.

My heart ached as I slowly turned away just in time to see a picture of myself and Brink flash across the screen. It was from sophomore year after I helped solve an ongoing serial robbery case. Jordan had helped me with that but insisted I did most of the heavy lifting.

Finally, the video ended and I snatched another champagne flute from a passing server as Dean Shetty returned to the podium amidst the applause.

“Professor Brink always had an eye for outstanding students, and I know that he would want all of you to continue your generosity to foster their talent. There are a couple of students I would like to highlight tonight,” she stated.

Liza leaned over the table. “Remember, shoulders back, head up like a princess.”

“Uh-huh,” I muttered.

“And where is Andre? This would be a great photo op!” she hissed.

“I don’t know.”

“First is Marie Moreau, a freshman who has become an asset to our community as a Guardian of Godolkin, showcasing such courage and wit in the face of adversity.” Dean Shetty gestured to the left of the stage, where Marie stood and smiled at the applause. “Second is a name I know you are all very familiar with. Y/N Y/L/N has created a positive whirlwind before she stepped foot on our campus. She has used this whirlwind not only to inspire other young people to dedicate their time to philanthropy and their studies, but to assist Marie in protecting our campus.”

The spotlight was harsh, but I took Liza’s advice and posed the best I could. I desperately wanted to look at Jordan, to tell them I did not want any of this, that I wanted them to have the credit, but I endured the second round of applause. When the applause ended and the spotlight went away, I grabbed my champagne.

“Not bad, but your smile didn’t reach your eyes,” Liza noted.

“I’ll work on it.”

The bubbles tickled the back of my throat and I looked over at Jordan again. They were looking down at their hands as their parents continued speaking with a different suit. For a split second, I wished that I could switch powers with Cate and have an idea of what they were thinking.

“…and don’t forget to schmooze some other donors. Did you get pictures with Marie?” Liza droned.

“I think Y/N has done enough schmoozing for tonight, Liza,” Dad interrupted.

“Excuse me, Mr. Y/L/N, but my job is to make sure that your daughter is seen is the best possible light at all times and---”

“Would you all excuse me?” I asked, standing.

Without waiting for a reply, I made my way across the room, ignoring some other kids who asked for pictures or donors who kept eyeing my backside. Once I was at the Lis table, I froze. I hadn’t prepared anything and my head was totally empty.

This was bad.

Just when I was about to sprint back to my chair, Mrs. Li noticed me.

“Oh, Y/N, it’s so good to see you!” Mrs. Li exclaimed.

Thankfully, my PR training kicked in.

“Good evening, Mrs. Li. How are you?” I replied.

She stood and hugged me for a few seconds “Oh, you look beautiful. Doesn’t she look beautiful, honey?” She turned to Mr. Li.

“Yes, my boy knows how to pick ‘em,” Mr. Li said with a grin.

I blinked back the shock of my words and smiled slowly. “Thank you. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“No, we were done,” Mrs. Li insisted.

Suit Guy nodded and excused himself while Mrs. Li gently pulled me down to sit next to her. Jordan stared at me the same way they did when I disagreed with them on a floor plan on Property Brothers. Honestly, I couldn’t blame them.

“Y/N, I must say, I was so sad when Jordan told us you broke up,” Mrs. Li admitted.

That made two of us.

“And it was so unexpected. You two were inseparable,” Mr. Li added.

I nodded. “Yeah, well, things change.” I took a long swig of my champagne.

“And where are your parents tonight, Y/N?” Mr. Li asked.

“They’re here. I think they’ve been talking Polarity’s ear off,” I replied.

That wasn’t too much of a lie. Dad was happy taking pictures with him on the red carpet and Mom thought that he was okay.

Mr. Li let out a low whistle. “Impressive. You and Andre do make a nice couple, no offense, Jordan.”

“None taken, Dad,” they scoffed.

I hesitated for a second. “We’re just friends…Andre and me, we’re just friends. We’ve just been hanging out a lot more lately.”

For a second, I hoped Jordan listened to me but I couldn’t tell as their eyes wandered away from their parents and me. This was a mistake, such a stupid mistake. I had to get out of there, someway, somehow.

Mr. Li raised his eyebrows. “My son may still have a chance?”

I smiled as mysteriously as I could muster before downing the rest of my champagne. It did nothing to blot out the embarrassment rising from my neck and over my ears. Mrs. Li gently grabbed my uninjured hand in hers.

“You’ve been so brave with all this, Y/N. Fighting Luke must have been terrifying. Oh, I couldn’t imagine!” she exclaimed.

No, she couldn’t imagine seeing those glowing eyes every time she blinked nor tensing every time she had to go past Brink’s office to get to the super nice bathroom in the Crimefighting building. She couldn’t possibly imagine all the stupid questions she would get asked or the strange itching pain the burn around her neck caused.

“It was,” I whispered, glancing at Jordan.

They finally looked at me but this time, I was thankful they didn’t have laser vision. I quickly set aside my empty glass and turned back to Mrs. Li.

“But you survived and sacrificed so much,” she added.

“You could say that again,” I replied.

“That’s Y/N, always sacrificing herself for someone else,” Jordan seethed.

It was awful being on Jordan’s bad side and I was doing nothing but exacerbating the situation. There had to be some escape route that I could take. Someone I knew had to come by or someone could maybe ask for a picture.

“Jordan, don’t be rude,” Mr. Li admonished. “I thought I raised my boy better than that.”

There was something about Mr. Li’s tone that made my stomach lurch. Or maybe it was the distressed way Jordan looked away and was suddenly fascinated with the fairy lights that hung on the walls. All I knew was that I was slowly pulling away from Mrs. Li and straightening up.

“Did Jordan ever tell you how we first met?” I asked.

“No, never,” Mr. Li said, glancing at Jordan.

“It was freshman year during the mid-terms. I was slammed with so many assignments that I thought I was going to drown but before that, I would bomb all my classes, especially Brink’s. One night, I was in the library having a total meltdown because none of my index cards made any sense and there were only two days left until the exam.” I paused. “In the middle of my snot and tears, Jordan finds me surrounded by my notecards and books, picks up one of my notecards, and says, ‘I’d be crying too if I was studying something that wasn’t going to be on the exam’. Then, they sat down with me and helped me study. Totally saved my butt freshman year.”

I left out the part about how they were in their feminine form and rolled their eyes every time I sniffled. But Mr. and Mrs. Li looked surprised but pleased at the same time.

“I had no idea,” Mrs. Li said.

“Yeah, Jordan’s always looking out for the people they care about, even if they won’t admit it.” I glanced at Jordan. “They deserve to be Number One in the Top Five and I hope that one day, I can be half the hero I know they will be. So, yes, Mr. Li, you raised a great child who will be a great person and I am happy to know them.”

Though I could feel Jordan’s eyes on me, I quietly excused myself and slowly walked away. The lights and noise began to blur in front of me. Soon, I felt the tear slip down my cheek and hurried into the bathroom before anyone else could see.

I immediately walked up to the sink and placed my hands on the counter. “Breathe, Y/N, breathe,” I said in choked breaths.

It was a difficult fete since the tears started falling as soon as the door closed behind me. I didn’t know why I was crying, I thought I did something positive. Maybe I was crying because I screwed up or I said too much to Marie. Maybe I was crying because I hadn’t cried since the night Jordan broke up with me. Their words tore a piece out of my chest, and I thought that I wouldn’t be able to get back. Maybe I never would.

The bathroom door suddenly flew open, and I screamed, “GET OUT!” Sending a blast of wind with my bad hand.

A loud bang and bright light followed, extinguishing the wind without incident. My eyes flew open, and I turned to find Jordan, in their feminine form leaning against the wall. They seemed unimpressed and angry.

“Careful, don’t want you causing damage to another building,” they deadpanned.

I swallowed and started wiping my tears. “Why are you in here?”

“To ask you what the hell was that back there? You just bulldoze in our conversation and say…that?” Jordan said.

“I’m sorry, I guess I’m tipsier than I thought,” I muttered.

“No, this isn’t you tipsy,” Jordan argued.

“Fine, I got upset when your dad kept calling you ‘son’ and ‘boy’ and it just came out, okay?” I snapped. “I’m sorry I butt into your family stuff, it won’t happen again. We can go back to ignoring each other.”

Jordan scoffed and walked closer to me. “You mean, you can go back to ignoring me?”

Were they really arguing with me about ignoring each other? They had been ignoring me this whole time as well. No in-person conversations, no texts, no calls, not even social media interactions.

“I’m not going to argue with you about this,” I said, my voice hoarse.

“Look, I’m not going to pretend like after two weeks of nothing, it’s not insane that you would do that,” they continued

“Okay, so I tried to do a nice thing for you and screwed it up, I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want your apology.”

“Then what do you want?” I glared at them. “I tried to fix the Luke and Brink mess but that backfired. Then, I tried to stand up for you in front of your parents, but I screwed that up too. Every time I try to do something nice for you, I end up hurting you instead and I’m tired of it. I don’t like hurting you and if we have to stay away from each other than fine.”

Jordan was quiet for a long time and during that time, their eyes never left mine. They always had such a cutting gaze, like they could see through everyone and everything. Sometimes, I would be curious and terrified at what they would find if they stared at me long enough.

“You didn’t hurt me tonight,” they whispered. “I just don’t understand why you did it.”

I sighed. “Because I still care about you. It’s stupid, right? You broke my heart and I still care about you.”

“Y/N…”

I sniffled and turned away from them. “I should get cleaned up before heading back out there. I must look like a mess.”

For a moment, the only sounds I heard were my sniffling and rifling for the paper towels to fix my makeup. As I dabbed the makeup Jordan whispered, “You never look like a mess.”

The next time I spoke to Jordan was the day Tek Knight guest-lectured our class. The tall, slimy idiot made the side of my mouth twitch with each word he spoke. His show was ridiculous but maybe that was due to all the editing to make him seem normal. He spoke so grandiosely, and I wondered how Cate, Andre, and Jordan dealt with being interviewed by him.

“I can’t stand this guy,” Marie whispered.

“You and me both,” I muttered.

“…and, as all you know,” Tek continued, “I am a master at interrogation and I would love to take this moment to show you proper technique. Now, I’ll need a volunteer.” Fortunately, no one raised their hands and I went back to skimming some old class notes. Hopefully class would go by quickly, Dean Shetty couldn’t let this man prattle on the whole time, right?

“Cyclone, one of our Guardians of Godolkin. Surely, you wouldn’t mind? It could make up for our missed interview,” Tek said with a slight edge to his voice.

“You can call me Y/N and, fine.” I stood, straightened my blazer that I wore with a houndstooth mini skirt, and strolled down to the seat at the front of the class.

All that was missing was a blinding light and a seedy interrogation room. I folded my hands in my lap and relaxed into the chair. This would be fine, nothing at all. I glanced at my classmates, offering Marie a small smile and locking eyes with Jordan for a second. I could get through this, Tek Knight was nothing.

“Miss Y/L/N, I appreciate your participation,” Tek began. “Why don’t we start by going over the events of your friend, Luke’s, death?”

I swallowed. “I have relayed the story many times, Mr. Knight, unless you didn’t see any of my interviews.”

That earned a small laugh throughout the class and Tek’s jaw clenched but he smiled.

“No, I can’t say that I have, I was too busy investigating the details of his death. So, humor me, please,” Tek requested. “What was that day like?”

Easy.

“It was a normal day. I had a morning class on forensics and then I had lunch with Cate. After lunch, I did some homework and I decided to go see Professor Brink about an assignment,” I said.

That day, I did not need to talk to Brink but I had told the lie so much that no one would second guess it.

“Your pupils just dilated, you’re lying,” Tek said in delight.

I rolled my eyes. “I’ve told the story fifty times, I think I remember it correctly.” “Ah, notice class just how defensive she got,” Tek instructed. “Why were you really there?”

I paused again, my eyes glancing at Jordan. Their expression was unreadable but their jaw clenched for a moment. That day, I went to see Jordan and apologize for everything that happened with Liza since we had not spoken when we all went out the night before. However, Jordan was particularly icy about it and I ended up running into a frantic Marie.

A chill ran up my spine at the memory and I turned my attention back to Tek. He was waiting with bated breath and I wondered how much he got off on these.

“I wanted to talk to Brink about an assignment,” I repeated.

“Tell that to the sweat on your forehead but we’ll circle back to that. What happened when you got to his office?”

“When I walked into the building, I saw Marie was in front of his office.”

“And you didn’t think that was strange since she was a freshman?”

I shook my head. “No, she was a fan of Brink’s work so it made sense that she would try to talk to him.”

“Was anyone else there?”

Yes.

“No.”

“Another lie. Who else was there, Y/N?”

“Marie, Marie was the only person there.” I willed myself to calm down.

Tek faced the class. “Notice, class, that Y/N is rubbing her hand on her forearm, a classic self-soothing gesture. We are one step closer to the truth!” Then, he whirled back around to me. “Who else was there, Y/N?”

“Marie. I didn’t see anyone else.” Tek shook a finger at me. “Oh, you’re a tough one, Y/N, and those are my favorites to break.”

I huffed and glanced at Dean Shetty, who offered me a pity look. “Do you have any other questions?”

“Plenty. What happened when you got to Brink’s office?”

“Well, Marie was nervous to talk to Brink so I knocked on the door. There was no answer, and I opened it and I saw Luke burning him alive,” I said quietly.

“The downcast eyes and lower tone suggest that not only is Miss Y/L/N telling the truth but there is emotional weight to it.” Tek gestured to me. “Please, continue.”

“When Luke saw us, something was off with his eyes. He was…infuriated and he looked hurt.”

“What did he say to you?”

“He said that we shouldn’t have seen that and now we had to die.”

“That must have been painful and scary, you had been friends for two years, correct?” Tek asked.

“Yeah, around the time he and Cate started dating,” I confirmed.

“What happened next?”

“I told Marie to run and I tried to hold him off. We got into a pretty intense physical fight and I was able to extinguish his flames long enough for Marie to do some damage,” I reported.

“We can see that it must have been very difficult with your injuries. What made you think that you could beat him?”

I paused and looked at him. “Excuse me?”

“Well, according to your record, you’ve fought Luke three times, lost twice, and ended in a draw once. To go from that to disarming him is a large leap.”

My heart rate started to pick up and I brushed a loc out of my face to distract myself. I just had to stay calm and answer everything with confidence. Confidence was all anyone needed, Liza preached it enough.

“Yes, Luke was incredibly strong and near-impossible to beat,” I added.

“But you’ve extinguished his flames before? And you still lost? How did that work?”

It was an easy gig when Luke was caught off guard. The most I could ever do when sparring with him was play defense. I could feel the heat of his flames still and the flash in his eyes.

“Just tell them what they want to hear,” Liza’s voice coached in my ear. “No one wants the truth, they want what we tell them.”

But what was the point of that? Why couldn’t Jordan get the credit? What truth would that be hiding? That they’re a good hero? What was the point of me fake-dating Andre? Who were we placating? Why did I have to play to anything?

Slowly, I glanced at Marie and then I glanced at Jordan. Marie looked like she was holding her breath while Jordan was hyper-focused. I wondered if Marie knew how insightful she was or could be.

“It didn’t,” I stated.

Tek smiled like the Cheshire cat and everyone’s expressions around the room shifted from bored focus to interest. My heart was pumping in my ears and my breath was starting to speed up, but I had to keep going.

“What do you mean?”

“I tried to extinguish Luke’s fire that day but it didn’t work. It had worked during one of our sparring sessions but, his guard was lower and I took advantage. The day he died, I panicked,” I reported.

“The Cyclone panicked under pressure?” Tek asked.

“Yes, I was scared. Luke was never malicious in our fights, and I could tell he wanted to kill me. Plus, I had to protect Marie but, I ended up making things worse.” I took another deep breath. “When I tried to extinguish the fire, I exacerbated it and set fire to almost everything around us. Luke tackled me to the ground, and I landed wrong, which is how I broke my wrist.”

“That is a harrowing story, Miss Y/L/N. What happened to Marie?”

I looked apologetically at her. “She ran and I didn’t see where she went. For a minute, I thought I accidentally got her burned too.” My eyes went back to Tek.

“And how did you escape?” Tek asked.

Here it goes.

“Jordan stepped in and tackled him off me,” I admitted. “Because they’re indestructible in their male form, they weren’t hurt, and they were able to hold him off long enough for me to escape.”

There, it was all out there. I felt lighter than I had in weeks, and I could have cried at the feeling. For a moment, I wondered why it took me so long to just admit the truth.

“I thought you said there was no one else there?” Tek countered.

“I lied.”

“Why lie?”

“Partially to protect and help Marie. This situation was beneficial for her, and I played along to help. But she also doesn’t need this to prove how great she’ll be one day.”

“So, is Jordan part of the reason you were there that day?”

“Yes,” I admitted. “They’re the reason I was at Brink’s.”

“But why?”

“That’s your favorite word,” I scoffed. “I lied to protect myself. I went to Brink’s office to see Jordan to apologize.”

“Apologize for what?”

“To apologize for the position I put them in.” I willed myself not to glance at them because if I did, they might telepathically make me shut up.

Tek walked closer to me and leaned over me a little. “And what position is that?”

“I made them feel like a burden when they weren’t, they never were,” I whispered, eyeing Tek.

Tek nodded. “That’s right, you two were an item.”

“They broke up with me because they thought they were helping me but, they couldn’t have been more wrong. Jordan challenged me and made me think deeper about things.” Tears burned my eyes but I kept pushing. “But the facts are that Jordan protected everyone from Luke, not me and not Marie. You can quote me on that.”

I crossed my arms and noticed I was breathing harder than usual. Was this panic or relief? How could anyone tell the difference?

Tek smiled like the Cheshire cat as he continued to circle me. “Notice how even though she got defensive, she is relaxed. Ladies and gentlemen, we have found the truth!”

Some sporadic applause broke out and Tek leaned over to shake my hand, but I stood, brushed past him, and headed back to my seat. On the way, I could feel everyone’s eyes boring into me but for the first time in a long time, I could not have cared less. Marie was stunned when I grabbed my bag and slung it over my shoulder.

“What was that?” she whispered.

“I’m sorry but you were right, I had a choice,” I whispered back.

Marie hesitated but nodded as I turned and walked out of the class. Finally, the truth was out there, and it would spread like wildfire on Twitter, TikTok, and Instagram. Part of me wondered how long it would take for the news to reach Liza and another part of me wondered how that conversation would go. She would be infuriated and try to work on a counterattack but, I also could not bring myself to care too much. I did care about how my parents would feel once they found out. They had no idea that I lied.

The sun was brighter than usual and the students frantically typing on their laptops or talking on their phones were productive, not overly stressed. There was a sense of calm over campus, and it made for a nice ambiance for my walk back to my dorm. As soon as I walked in, I got a FaceTime call from Cate.

“Okay, what was that with Tek Knight?” she interrogated.

“Wow, those kids work fast,” I commented, setting my bag on my desk.

“Seriously. Did you skip the interview so you could do…that?”

“First of all, I skipped the interview because I had a shoot with Nike that I was contractually obligated to. Second of all, Tek wanted the truth and I gave it to him.”

I flopped down on my bed and propped my phone on my side table so that I could see Cate’s frowning face which was a mixture of shock and pride.

“Well, I know this is super therapist-y of me to ask but how are you feeling?” she asked.

“I feel light. It’s true about the truth setting you free, you know. I feel like I can fly,” I drawled, stretching myself out further on my bed.

“Technically, you can already fly,” Cate teased.

“Not the point, Cate. I didn’t realize how much Vought and Liza caged me in. If this is what they did to me, I can’t imagine what they did to Luke.”

Cate hummed, a solemn expression rolling across her pretty features. “I knew he was under a lot of pressure but…” Cate cut herself off. “Anyway, I am happy that you are feeling better; you can only hold things in for so long before you snap.”

“Like you would let me snap,” I teased.

“Of course. Are you worried about your parents?” Cate asked.

I shrugged. “Only the fact that they had no idea I lied about any of this. I told you how my mom and I had a heart-to-heart at the gala. They want me to be happy and this feels like a good start.”

“I want you happy too. I gotta get back to psych before Professor Banks sends someone looking for me.”

As soon as she clicked off, I put my phone on Do Not Disturb and rolled onto my back. This seemed like a fantastic moment for less noise.

Knock! Knock! Knock!

Or not.

I huffed as I pushed myself off the bed and made my way to the door. “I am not going to do any of those stupid TikTok interviews or----”I stopped when I saw Jordan staring back at me.

“Sorry, I didn’t come by for a statement,” they muttered.

“N-no, it’s fine.” I stepped aside and they quickly brushed past me.

As I closed the door behind me, I willed my heartbeat to slow to a normal rate and wiped my palms on my skirt. Jordan dropped their bag in the middle of the room and whirled around to face me.

“Why did you do that?” they demanded.

“I wanted to tell the truth,” I answered.

Jordan laughed humorlessly and rolled their eyes. “Sure you did. Is this another ploy from Liza that you’re playing along with? I’m wondering how exactly this is going to screw me and make you look better.”

I shook my head and took a couple of steps closer to them. “There’s no ploy! You’ll believe me when the rankings come out.”

“Oh, I’m sure nothing will change except you might be at Number One this time,” they seethed.

“Why are you mad at me? I did what you’ve been asking me to do since this whole thing started.”

“But I didn’t want you to make yourself look bad in the process!” they exclaimed.

As their words sunk in, I had a chance to think. Class was not over for another thirty minutes, and Jordan never skipped class unless they were deathly ill. At the gala, I did not see Jordan or their parents until I approached them. At the time, I thought they were avoiding an awkward conversation----that still happened-----but now, I wondered if they were trying to protect me or themselves from something. When we broke up, they disappeared until that night Cate practically forced me to go out with everyone and even then, we never spoke. I thought they were avoiding me because they were angry but maybe they were hurt. And when they yelled at me to run from Luke, they almost sounded…scared.

What did that mean?

Slowly, I closed the distance between us, swallowing at the tension rising in the room. “I don’t care about rankings or social media engagement right now. If anything happens, I can bounce back but like I said the other night, I care about you and I am tired of hurting you. I know that my lying about what happened with Luke and Brink was messed up and must have caused a different kind of pain and I wanted to make it right.”

“There’s still smarter ways of doing that, Y/N. Did you coordinate with Liza or something? And what about Marie?” Jordan rattled.

“No, I decided on my own and Marie inspired me to do it. I had a choice, and I made the right one,” I argued. “Can you please just enjoy the glory and attention you’ll get from this and stop trying to poke holes in it?”

Jordan shook their head. “No, not when I know there’s an angle to this.”

“You want an angle? Here’s your angle: I love you and I wanted to help you, just like I tried to at the gala. If it lowers my ranking or makes me lose followers, I don’t care!” I announced. “I am sick of spending hours making sure total strangers like me and avoiding mistakes. I can help other black girls outside of being a hero, through charity or promoting positive representations of us in media. So please, for the love of all that is good in the world, just accept what I did and enjoy the benefits!”

It was only when the silence filled the room that I realized what I had said. My face immediately warmed, and I felt kind of nauseous. The fact that we never really said the L-word to each other in a year and a half of dating was ludicrous but, we agreed that we did not have to say it if we felt it from each other. It sounded great at the time but the truth was that saying it out loud made it more real.

Suddenly, my dorm did not feel like the safe space where I could cry, binge-watch Psych, or share a joint with Cate. I suddenly felt like a child again as Jordan stared at me wide-eyed. After a few seconds, they spoke.

“Oh.”

Great, that’s what every girl wants to hear after they confess their feelings to their ex. I ran my hands through my locs and started walking towards the door.

“You can go now. Just try to keep the gloating to a minimum,” I whispered.

Before I could make it to the door, I felt a familiar strong hand grip my good arm and pull me closer. I did not have time to react as Jordan pressed their lips against mine. This kiss was much different than any kiss we’d ever had, well, any kiss that I ever had. There was pain, passion, anger, lust, and tenderness.

They slowly pulled away, barely a millimeter from my face, and I exhaled. “You don’t get to ruin your career for me, say that, and then kick me out of your dorm,” they growled lowly.

A tingle ran up my spine as I leaned forward to kiss them again. It was strange that I had almost forgotten how good they were at this, how much I missed this feeling with them. I felt their hands run up the nape of my neck and pull gently on a couple of locs. I pulled away for a second.

“You didn’t give me a chance to fight for us,” I muttered.

Jordan sighed, trailing their hand from my hair to the back of my shoulders. “I didn’t think…I didn’t think I was worth it.”

“Of course you are, you always were,” I insisted.

Something lit in their eyes and Jordan smiled so widely that I thought they might crack. They gently pulled me in closer for a hug, scratching my back with featherlight touches.

“I’m sorry I broke up with you,” they whispered into my shoulder.

“I’m sorry that I made you think you had to break up with me,” I replied. “Thank you for saving me from Luke, sorry for lying about that again.”

They groaned. “Please stop apologizing for that.”

I laughed. “Okay.”

“Besides,” they stood to their full height, “I didn’t do that great of a job.”

Their eyes zeroed in on my bruised neck and then glided to my injured wrist. It was as though I could sense the doubt rising within them and I grabbed their face.

“Hey, this was my fault, not yours. I’m here in one piece because of you, never forget that, okay?”

“Well, I guess when you put it that way…” They smirked and I swatted their arm with my good hand.

“Seriously, do not get a big head from this,” I instructed.

“No promises,” They teased. “So, what now? I mean, I know you love me and all but where do we go from here?”

“You know how I feel and I’ve done enough heart-opening speeches for one day. But, I would be lying if I said I haven’t thought about getting back with you ever since you broke up with me,” I said.

“Well,” Jordan rocked back on their heels, “I would also be lying if I said that I haven’t thought about getting back with you too and those posts with you and Andre drove me nuts.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You were jealous?”

Jordan looked away from me for a moment. “He was looking at you all weird and flirty.” “It was a fake relationship and you got fooled!” I cheered.

“It didn’t look fake on his end,” Jordan grumbled.

“Aww, is little Jordan feeling a little sad still?” I sang in a baby voice.

“Don’t do that voice, Y/N,” Jordan warned.

“Or what?”

Quickly, Jordan’s hands started tapping on my sides in rapid succession and I could hold the giant laugh down. Somehow, I wriggled out of their grasp and made a run for it. I made it about halfway across the room before they tackled me into my bed, continuing their attack. I laughed so hard that tears were rolling down my face. After a few moments, they stopped, laughing as well and slowly playing with the hem of my shirt.

“Seriously, though, what do we do now?” Jordan asked, slightly out of breath.

I pushed myself up on my elbows. “Well, I’m open to sneaking around to ease us back into things but I’m also open to suggestions.” Jordan’s hands slowly moved to rub my sides. “Then I would suggest that we pick up where we left off, if that’s okay with you.”

I hummed, pretending to think about it, before quickly pecking their lips. “Of course, that’s fine with me!”

“And you’re sure you don’t care what Liza says?”

I nodded. “Can we please stop talking about her? You have a lot of making up to do.”

“Me? You’re the one who chose a freshman over me.”

“She had a compelling story!”

I didn’t see Liza’s frantic missed calls or texts hours after Jordan and I competed to see who could “make up” the best. I didn’t see any of the memes or clips from Tek’s interrogation of me either. I didn’t even see the comments on our Instagram official post. All I knew was that I was at peace for maybe the third time in my life and I was not going to let anything get in the way of it again.

#black!reader #jordan li x reader #jordan li x black!reader

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wingedhallows · 6 days

Text

misunderstandings ; remus lupin

pairing: remus lupin x reader | 1k words plot: misunderstandings are best undone ontop of the astronomy tower at night with a cigarette in hand. authors note: i promised you this work last weekend but something came up and i couldn't post but here I am, hope you enjoy :)

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“How am I supposed to focus?” You whispered, mouth in a scowl. His hand was in yours, his eyes focused on the workbook in front of him. The sun lit the yard in warm light, you loved spring at Hogwarts. His thumb stroked your skin, his mouth in a small smile.

“Figure it out, love.” You couldn’t focus on the words in front of you, the letters swimming together in an effort to keep your cool. Your hand seemed to burn, was it desire? Desire for something you couldn’t have.

You knew that Remus wasn’t someone for relationships, he had told you himself.

He had made it awfully clear.

Though the common room was packed, loud music, alcohol in your system, you had heard his words loud and clear.

“I don’t do relationships, Y/N. I’m not the one for you.”

You couldn’t get over how breathtakingly beautiful he was. His hair was unstyled and seemed to stick out in different directions. The scars which decorated his face was faint, but prominent for you. You knew what he was, you had seen it.

In third year you had caught his friends and him sneaking out, demanding for them to take you with them.

Remus wasn’t fast enough to get away, almost ripped your throat out that night. It still weighed on him, everytime he looked at you.

This secret of his felt like a connection, a connection which wasn’t all that deep, you figured.

The fact that what he did to you, how kind and affectionate he was, was hard. It was hard to not see him in the way you saw him now, to not desire his love and care. It was unfair and frankly, cruel.

“I gotta go.” You managed, your things already packed and you face in a cold mask, desperate to conceal the pain.

“Oh, alright.” He spoke before he pushed his hand in his lap, face in a kind smile.

The astronomy tower was quiet, pieceful. The moon was up, the air cold. The cigarette in your hand felt like it lifted some weight off your shoulders, like it brought you some piece of mind. A tear left your eyes, heart heavy.

You had avoided Remus and his friends for the rest of day, excusing yourself when you caught sight of his brown hair.

You wanted to get away, to not think about the gryffindor any longer, you wished for the man to leave you alone, to not hog your mind for every minute you were awake. You blew some smoke into the night sky as a voice spoke.

“Here you are, I looked everywhere for you.” His face was adorned with a smile as he walked up to you, his hands pushing a cigarette between his lips and lighting it. You brushed the tears away, your gaze anywhere but him.

“You missed some real fun in-Are you crying?” You shook your head, taking another drag from your cigarette.

“No, but you are.” He stated, walking in front of you. He bent down and put a finger under your chin, lifting your head.

“Who hurt you?” He asked, brows furrowed.

How dare he ask who had hurt you?

How dare he be up here when all you wanted to be away from him, to forget the pain he put you through. How dare he.

“Stop doing that.” You said, as you got up, swatting his hand away. He huffed a chuckle, pausing to take a drag.

“What do you mean? Worrying about you?” You turned around, throwing the done cigarette at his feet.

“Stop doing this.” You spoke louder.

He leant against the railing, eyebrows still furrowed. “I don’t know what you mean, love.” You had to laugh, rolling your eyes as you stared him down.

“Don’t call me love, don’t be kind to me, stop holding my hand all the time, stop giving me love eyes, stop being like this when we both know that it never will be more.”

He took another drag as he pushed himself off the railing, eyes focused on you.

“Who said that?” You stared at him, face angry.

“You! You did, third year.” He let his head fall back, heaving a sigh. “What?” You scowled at him.

“Third year, house party, does that ring a bell?”

“I was drunk.” You shook your head, arms crossed.

“You were sober enough.” He took a step towards you, cigarette long forgotten on the ground.

“So that’s why you gave me the cold shoulder all those years?” You didn’t answer as his hands found your elbows.

“Because I was thirteen, drunk and not in my right mind?” You shook your head as you looked at him.

“Your words were bright and clear.” His lips twisted into a small smile.

“I was drunk.” You huffed again, looking over his shoulder, to avoid his eyes. “As you said before.”

His hands found the side of your face, his lips still in this stupid beautiful smile.

“If I had known that what stood between us was a stupid drunk mistake I made when we were thirteen, I would’ve taken back every single word, love.” Your eyes found him, your lip caught between your lips.

“I’m sorry.” He said before his lips connected with yours. Your arms found his as he brushed your cheek.

“We should’ve spoken sooner.” You said, your hand still on his arm. He laughed as he caressed your arm.

“Not that you would’ve let me speak a word.”

#harrypotter #hp fanfic #marauders imagine #the marauders #marauders era #harry potter fanfic #remus lupin #remus lupin x you #remus lupin angst #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin x y/n #marauders #hp marauders

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neonovember · 11 months

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Hello, uhm, so this MAY be an uncomfortable thing to request I’m not too sure. It’s totally totally okay if it is absolutely feel free to ignore this, but the way you write Carmen is so so comforting. I have this neighbor that lives downstairs from me, I’ve lived in my apartment for two years but the past 4 months with this guy has been hell. I live in the U.K. and the people that own the building and the police don’t view my situation as anything dangerous or serious, despite the fact I have made numerous complaints and even the other neighbors in my building have complained about him. But he targets me the most and bangs on my door at ungodly hours and threatens the most horrible stuff because I’m a woman living alone. I’m honestly terrified but unless he physically does something there’s nothing I can do. I’m sorry for the sob story but usually I always try and just picture Carmy as something comforting to help through this until I can be safe, would it be okay to request something like Carmen finding out about his gf losing sleep and constantly being terrified and deciding to take matters into his own hands, and demanding she moves in with him and helps pack her stuff because he will NOT stand for that shit (again totally 100% okay if you don’t feel comfortable responding)

oh my god anon, I'm so deeply sorry that you have to deal with such a shitty situation, and the fact that you have to wait to be physically attacked before the police can do anything? Fuck the justice system and fuck law enforcement. Don't every feel scared to send a request to make your day or week or fucking month better, it's why I'm here, and the fact that my writing can make you feel even a little better is the greatest gift i could ever ask for. God I just hope you're able to remain safe, call a friend or family to keep them posted in case anything happens, I'm so very sorry honey :(

Broken bones and soup

carmen berzatto x reader

warnings: misogyny, violence, feral!carmen makes an appearence, angst, horrible neighbours, angst, teeth rotting fluff, carmy feeding you

w/c: 5.3k

a/n: this was hard to write, i really wanted to do it right by you anon, and when have i ever written carmen without him breaking someones face?

The falling sun encapsulated the cerulean sky, exploding against the horizon in heated shades of orange, crimson and pink. The trail back to your apartment complex wasn’t long, but it gave enough time to bask in the warmth of evenings bathed in sunlight. It also conveniently enabled you to tell yourself you had gotten your sun for the day, rather than having to swallow pills you hated to swallow.

It was muscle memory however, your legs moved with the familiar comfort of the sidewalk, forgetting the stomach turning realisation of what had awaited you back at your apartment.

It had been a couple months, four maybe 5, you didn’t really want to count the days having a violent neighbour moved in directly down your apartment. The other tenants who you've grown to know collectively bristled with the annoyance of a 30 something year old filling the usual peaceful nights with crashes and yells of broken plates and incoherent obscenities.

When you had raised the issue to the landlord and even to the police, you had been shut down with a shrug of the shoulders.

‘We can notice him with a noise complaint, but if he aint hurting anyone we can’t do much’.

That had made you laugh a little then, before you had been close to bawling your eyes out and ripping out your hair. Sure he was loud, your neighbours from the other side of the apartment complex could attest to that, but it was so much more than loud fucking music, and somehow, you had bared the brunt of his violence. It was targeted, you knew it, and your legs began to shuffle at the thought of coming home to another violent outbursts at your door.

You hadn't gotten any proper sleep for the past 4 months, waking up to loud banging at your door, and declarations of brutality he whispered through your keyhole. It was all empty threats, those men in clad uniform had told you when you woke up shaking with fear as he screamed taunts of murder from below, you had run out in your pyjamas and bunny slippers and they had told you they couldn't help you.

There were not empty threats, and this wasn’t the hundreds of true crime shows you had binged, you felt it in your bones, you were a woman living with yourself for god sake, he was going to break down your door one day and hurt you, and you couldn't do anything about it. You felt paralysed by the helplessness of it, forcing yourself to stay up past 12, the burn of your tired eyes forced open by the blue light of your phone, in case he tried breaking in. You had begun to keep a bat near your bed, a knife in the drawer of your bedside, and you felt fucking insane. Noone had made a major problem out of it, and yet you felt like he was one bad day from a murderous rampage.

Carmen could tell something had been wearing on your shoulders, the way your eyes blinked slowly, and the syrup slow movements of your limbs when you had visited the Beef not long ago. You couldn't bear to tell him, your past relationships had taught you enough not to unload all your problems onto another person, but it had gotten bad. You had started getting notices of concern from your boss, asking if you were alright, telling you how your performance had been declining.

You had quickly shut down any looks of concern thrown at you, this was something you had to deal with yourself, you didn’t want anyone, especially another woman to be faced with the brunt of his violence. You guzzled caffeine and energy drinks like it was water, and your limbs jittered with the rush of adrenaline until the peak had dropped and you felt like your stomach was ripping itself apart.

You braced yourself as you turned the corner into your apartment complex, keeping your head down, and going through the carpack to avoid the hallway that was right next to his door. You felt your stomach drop, your keys pressed between your knuckles and you flickered your eyes up to the door of his apartment. You watched it like a hawk, ready to flee at any sign of opening, and when you had finally made it to the elevator, you breathed a sigh of relief like no other. The air suddenly fills your lungs once again.

Your phone buzzed in your jean pocket, and you reached out to grab it, the screen illuminated by Carmen’s text. You felt a tingle of glee shoot through you, biting back a smile at the thought of seeing him today.

“You still coming today for the family dinner?”

The beef had begun a sort of tradition, every last Friday of the month, they would close early and hold a sort of family dinner right out back near the tables and chairs. Everyone of the crew’s family and friends were invited to join, some bringing a plate or a drink or two. It was the highlight of the month, and you hadn't missed a Friday ever since Carmen and you had become something more than close friends.

You typed out a quick reply with a tongue in your cheek, as the elevator doors opened, you didn't look up right away, walking with your head down as you tucked your phone back into your pocket. It was a fault on your end, you should have looked up, at least then you could have braced yourself as your neighbour stood stationed near your door with a cheshire smile stretching ominously across his face.

You wondered if you could run back into the elevator, but the doors had closed well before and you feared turning your back to him was an even worse fate. You walked towards him, plastering on a smile that didn't look even a little believable.

“Something I can do for you?” You ask, your voice heightened by a mix of fear and false confidence

“Hear you've been complaining about me” The man replies with a smile, his hair slicked back, the shadow of a badly shaven skin spiking up. His shirt reeks of sweat and stains of spilt takeaway and you have to take a tentative step back to escape the stench radiating off of him.

“Yeah, you might not realise it, but you have been a bit- uh loud, and the loud banging on my walls?” You prouch him, and his eyebrows rise in surprise, shaking his head with a laugh that horrified you.

“Am I scaring you?” The man replies

You swallow as your eyes flicker to his burnt hazel ones, they stare down from above, almost mocking in the way they forced you to answer.

“Uh, uhm- well, a lot of us got work in the morning, and I can’t wake up if you're making a lot of noise during the night”

“Oh, is that right?” The man asks, scratching a hand across his jaw

“Well no one's been the one complaining but you” The man replies

“I don't think so many of us-”

“You saying I’m a liar??” The man suddenly shouts, and you can help yourself stepping back a distance quickly

The man watches the way you distance yourself away from him, his eyes flicker to the keys poking out from between your fingers and he bites back a laugh.

“So you are scared of me, liar.” The man spits out with venom, before stepping towards you, caging you to the wall as he whispers near your ear

“You think fucking keys are going to stop me? A little lady like you living here all by yourself?” The man digs his fingers into your sides, until you howl out and retch yourself away from him, you reach for your right side, holding the skin above your rib cage that had begun to swell and bruise.

“See how easy that was? A fucking pretzel in my hand” The man calls out with a smile, before walking back around the hallway corner with such ease and comfort that told you he knew the police wouldnt do shit.

Your hand shakes as you shove your key into your door, you have to hold your own hand to put it in, before shouldering your way through your door with wince, and dropping your bag and belongings to the floor.

You rush into your bathroom, undressing before your eyes flicker to your mirror, seeing the red rash of irritation and the start of a purple imprint of his claws shoved into the skin below your ribcage. You wince as you try to soothe it, the salty tears breaking down your waterline, you can't stop, the wretched sobs of your helplessness echoing off the bathroom walls.

You climb into the shower, sliding down to the bottom as the tears shake through you, you hug your knees to your chest, letting the warm water combine with your salty tears, so they become one, and you know longer now how terrified you are. You stay in the shower like this for a bit, letting the warmth and steam wiggle your body from its stone encapsulation.

You can hear the familiar jingle of your phone ringing from where you had haphazardly left it, and the memory of today's dinner comes rushing in. You had nearly forgotten, and whilst you were terrified to leave your home and go back into the hallway where it had happened, you couldn't let Carmen down.

So you had gotten up, in the same way you had fallen down, and tried to scrub away the smell of his day-old cigarettes and sweat until your skin burned, poking your head through a clean shirt and a skirt that hid the painful purple splotch that had begun to spread across your side.

Entering your quaint kitchen, you can’t stop your arm as it reaches for the brown liquid stored in that old glass bottle Sugar had told you was a century old. You didn't have a little liquid courage to make it past your goddamn threshold.

You downed it in a gulp, reaching for your bag and a pocket knife, just in case. The reality of that decision broke you a little, when did you start needing to armour yourself?

Your phone buzzed from its position edged between the living room couch, it was Carmen, again, telling you he was outside. Carmen had begun to ceremoniously show up to your apartment as the autumn had begun to bleed into the winter nights, and the sunlight had stretched until darkness hit by 5 in the afternoon. Any other time you would have chastised him till the point where he would stop, but now, with the reality of your neighbour, you felt a relief wash through your body at the thought of being close to him. You also don’t doubt he would have shown up anyway, ignoring your requests in the way he does when he thinks it's his responsibility.

You wouldnt say you had a lot of experience in relationships under your belt, but something spoke to you from within, carmen was something special, this was special, sacred in the way destiny was, and you shooke with the relentless fear of fucking it up. And scaring him away with your problems seemed to be on the very top of that list

You shake the thought from your head as you shut the door quietly, take a brisk pace as you walk but kind of run to the elevator. A neighbour you knew well stood near the doors, his dark auburn hair falling in front of his eyes, he nodded to you with a silent smile. He kept to himself most of the time, and you didn't know much about him, just that he always was tugging a sleeve down his left arm, but he always went out of his way to give you some sort of greeting.

The air between you was silent, as you were waiting for the ping of the elevator to drop to your door, and you heard a shuffling near you, your eyes watching the way he coughed and stared at you from the corner of your peripheral vision.

“Heard something out in the hallway, it wasn’t him again was it?” The man replied, concerned about lacing his features as his eyes seemed to be fixated on the way you leaned on one side of your body a little.

“Uh no, it’s- it’s alright, I guess it was my dues you know? Dealing with a shitty neighbour at least once” You reply with a tight smile, trying to poke fun at the very depressing thought.

The man nodded with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, your neighbours had known that he was loud, knew that you had dealt the worst of it being right above him, but they were clueless to his taunts and threats that he said into your door at night. You think the man next to you had an idea though, the way his eyes scanned anything like he was always assessing, always calculating the world around him.

It was also because your neighbour was nowhere to be found whenever he was around, you whispered a prayer of thanks that he was taking the elevator down with you, with his sweatpants and top, it was like he knew, a silent nod of protection.

Before you could open your mouth to whisper a thanks, the doors of the elevator had opened, a tired mom and her two energetic kids passed between you both. It was funny, you could see yourself in her, the drag of dark circles and the hunch of her shoulders mirroring your own.

You knew the very shakily painted on makeup did little to hide the exhaustion on your face and you rushed to enter the elevator to escape the thought. The motion of the elevator moving down nauseated you a little, churning your stomach in the way it always did with motion, but your apartment wasn’t big and soon enough the music of the elevator turned to a halt as the doors opened up to the ground floor.

You could see the headlights of Carmen's car through the automatic doors of your complex, and you gave your neighbour a smile before rushing to jump into the comfort of Carmen and his very, very warm car.

-- -

The car ride to the beef has been silent, just the syrupy beat of jazz from the car speakers and the burn of Carmen’s gaze searing a hole through you, you feared if you caught his eyes and the look in them the entire interaction today would tumble from your tongue.

You couldn’t ruin today, it was tradition, you had just begun to become folded into it. The joy of Tina calling your name for a hug, the talks about the new pastry ideas with Marcus, Sydney’s laughter, it soothes you like a balm, and you were sure the nausea crawling through your stomach would dissipate the second you entered.

But it didn’t, the beautiful lantern lights from outside the Beef glittered against the Chicago moonlight and the smell of Italian meatballs engulfed your senses and you still felt like you were being ripped apart from the inside.

You had said your hellos to everyone, biting back a yelp as Tina’s hand pressed against the bruise on your side, and nodding to Richie’s rambles whilst you felt outside of your own skin.

Your mind kept replaying the scene of him lunging st you, bristling your skin till goosebumps spread through, until your mind was exhausted from fear and well, fucking exhaustion and Carmen had to call your name too many times to rip you from your thoughts.

“Hey, you alright?” Carmen asks with that soft honey tone he keeps for you.

You nod with a smile, and Carmen’s eyes shift towards your plate untouched. It was your favourite, a twist on Osso Buco and yet it laid un moving, Carmen knew it, you did too, and you held back tears as Carmen simply nodded, not sure if he was overstepping his boundaries.

It was the first lick of the start of something, the both of you, the bloom of a companionship Carmen felt was destined, like it was seared into the sand years before you both had even come into existence. And Carmen was new to this, and that opened up a whole can of worms, he didn’t want to fuck it up, he didn’t want to think about fucking it up, but god did he always seem to fuck it up.

You reached across the table to grab the jar of water, your shirt riding up without you noticing. Tina’s eyes widen at the peek of a purple imprint from under your shirt and she has nearly drops her fucking fork

“Baby? What happened to your side?” Tina replies with concern, her voice is quiet but the tables loud boisterous conversations begin to slow down.

You tug your shirt down, and you burn with guilt like you had been caught with this big secret. Carmen immediately looks towards your side, his eyes scanning the way you since a little as your finger brushes against it.

“Nothing, uh um I fell” You don't even believe yourself

“That looks more than something you get tripping over your feet darling, did something happen?”

“What? What’s she saying honey? What did you see Tina?” Tina’s gaze flutters to Carmen, and there’s a pause like she’s assessing whether it was Carmen’s doing before the reality of who he is hits her. It was ingrained in every woman, and Carmen wouldn’t be an exception. Even for a second.

“Looks like someone’s goddam fist imprinted into her skin”

The restaurant is completely quiet now, and your head falls to your uneaten plate of veal, they look towards you in concern hearing the end of Tina’s words.

Carmen lifts your shirt, and you don’t stop him, the reality of your attack is shown right there in front of him, the imprint of a large hand bruising purple and blue.

Carmen’s eyes burn into the skin, his fists shaking as he remains silent, the rest of the family look on in horror, whispers of “holy fuck?” and eyes seeing the way Carmen practically vibrates, like he’s a second away from exploding.

“..Who did this?”

“It was my fault- I”

“Who did this baby? Who hurt you?” Carmen replies with an exhaled murmur.

“I’m, uh, Uhm- he- oh Carmen” You can’t get the words out, they’re stuck in your throat and you can’t get them out. You feel trapped, your body is sweating like you’re caged, like you're wading through a current and you're losing yourself to the weight of it, your breakdown on display for the whole world to see.

You blink back tears as Carmen tilts your chin to face him, and the look on his face, the look of distraught and fear that blossoms across his features un tetheres the tightly wrapped self control you had formed.

And Carmen scoops you up into his arms so that the entire family doesn’t have to see you break into his shoulder.

His soothing words are like a balm to your distress and he walks you, bridal style to the first aid cabinet, sitting you down on the counter, wiping away your tears as his fingers shake and his throat bobs with a tight swallow. He hastily tugs your shirt, kissing back the howls of pain as he whispers “I know, I know baby girl, I’m so sorry, I’m so so sorry.”

His soft fingers press gently against the bruise as he rubs a heating ointment across it, he wraps a warm compress around it as bandage and his eyes are avoiding your own as he focuses his fingers on your skin.

“Carmen?” You whisper, the hiccups of tears resounding from your throat, Carmen reaches for a painkiller, placing it in your palm with a whisper of affirmation, he gently tips your head back as he pours water into your mouth, and you swallow it quickly, before looking back at him.

“Carmen? Please” You reply, had you done it, had you ruined everything?

“I can’t look at you because I fear I might break, and- and I can’t right now okay darling? I have to find, I have to find who did this, and I need to make it right, hm? I need to make sure your safe because god my heart is outside of my chest and I can’t feel anything but fear” Carmen replies with a tight low voice, his fists shake as he pressed them into the counter beside your thighs, but he looks up to meet your gaze anyway, and he smiles tightly as the tears stream down.

“Oh Carmen, this isn't on you, you couldn't have possibly known” You reply, wiping a hand across his cheeks.

“How can you say that? I am your, I am meant to protect you, and you, you come limping in without me noticing, fucking Tina saw it before I could, and i hate myself for it” Carmen replies, his cerulean blues shining bright against the shine of tears.

“Who did this, someone at work? A guy on the street?” Carmen replies and you flick away from his gaze, hand falling to your lap as your tongue burns with the desire to just say it all.

“You've got to tell me baby girl, you have to know I've got to make it right, I won’t sleep till I do. '' Carmen replies with a pained cry, like his heart is breaking from the thought of letting this go un avenged. And it's the tortured look on his face, it's the shake of his limbs like he wants to destroy and burn the entire world around him till he finds whoever has done this that uncurls your tongue and lets everything out in the open.

“What? This has been going on for months? Why didn’t you tell me?” Carmen replies, his thumb rubbing soft circles across your thigh.

“Didn’t want to scare you away Carmen, i love-i I like you a lot, more than I have anyone and I didn't want to fuck it up and unload all my problems onto you like a dumpster” You reply, and it sounds stupid when you say it out loud, and when Carmen looks up at you in disbelieved confusion.

“Huh? Oh sweet girl, I’m meant to help you bear it all, that’s why I'm here, and the idea of you thinking I'll love you any less, that I won't help you because of something like this haunts me. I’m meant to protect you yeah? That’s my fucking job, and I’ve failed it” Carmen replies with a grunt.

“No one has said anything like that to me” You say, eyes looking up to him, you weren't shocked, but you weren't, were not shocked, never had you experienced this, this burning adoration for another person, this soft warmth that burst through you at the sound of Carmen's voice promising his devotion, promising his unyielding protection. It armoured you more than a pocket knife ever could.

Carmen presses a soft kiss to your head, before shuffling around the kitchen, walking back into the dining tables, hushing out replies of ‘she's okay’ before coming back in with your things under his arm.

“What are you doing?” You reply in question, as he slowly picks you up with an arm, and gently places you back down. His eyes are constantly flickering to your side, like he’s torturing himself with the image of the first time he saw the horrific bruise across your side.

He had never felt true fear until then, the shatter of his heart beneath his breast as he realises you had gotten hurt and he didn't even fucking realise. Nothing had mattered but your safety and he scared himself with how much his body shook with a desire to destroy the person responsible.

“I’m driving back to your apartment, where you're going to grab your necessities, whilst I pay a visit to your little neighbour downstairs. You’re staying with me, for however long,” Carmen replies with a sneer, walking you through the back door, which you were all too thankful for, you couldn't bear to see the look on the crew’s faces if you had to walk back in.

“Carmen you can’t” You reply rushed, as Carmen slid you into the passenger seat, before clicking on your seat belt for you. He cocks his head, before raising his eyebrows

“Oh, I can’t? Honey, the police don’t do their job and my baby get’s fucking hurt. Nah, that doesn't work for me” Carmen replies, before rushing to enter the driver's seat, shifting the gear into drive before speeding down the city streets.

His focused on the road, his face unblinking and he grips the steering wheel until his knuckles turn white, you can’t stop looking at him, his gorgeous under the moonlight of the skies, his cheeks crimson from his tears, his cerulean blues calling to you like the sea, and the curl of his blonde hair falling like waves.

The view of your apartment complex comes into your vision as Carmen turns into the carpark in one swift move, you can’t stop the shake of your fingers and Carmen wants to slam his first into the steering wheel when he notices.

“You alright?” Carmen replies “You can stay here, I’ll grab whatever you need”

You want to stay, want to remain in the safety of his sleek tinted windows, but you want to face it too, and somehow that need is more important, he doesn’t get to win, no fucking way.

You unclip your seat belt, opening the door as you turn to him “You going to show me how you protect me or what?”

Carmen bites back a smile, god he was so fucking proud. He could tell you were scared shit less, and yet you fought through that fear, and god you mesmerised him. You were stronger than he could ever be, and he wanted to take that burden from you, carry it himself so you didn't have to.

Carmen jogs to the back of the car, reaching into the boot before the clunk of wood on gravel meets your ears. Carmen nods towards you, as he grips a bat under his arm

“He puts a bruise on you and i break all his fucking bones” Carmen replies, and you can’t stop the joy that image brings you

Carmen walks you to your apartment, waiting outside like a hawk, his bat tight against his grip as he watches the hallways, and for the first time in what seemed like forever, you feel infinitly and utterly safe.

You throw your toiletries into a bag, grabbing a few nights of clothes and your work shoes. You eyes flicker around your apartment, it had been home to you for the past 4 years, and yet it felt so foreign to you now, you had grown to attest this place, this place you had filled with so much of yourself, and you hate him so much at that moment, for making you feel this way about a place you had once loved.

You leave your apartment with the door shut closed.

Carmen carries your bag and places them back into the back seat of the car, and as he begins to walk towards the apartment of your neighbour you reach a hand out to stop him.

“Honey, I’ve got to-” Carmen begins before you shut him quickly

“I want to watch” You reply quietly, and Carmen’s eyes flicker, before lacing his fingers into yours, as you both knock on his door.

There's a grumble before the clank of a chain slides open, and his face appears as the door opens to him, you can see the illuminated light of his TV glaring, the floor covered with pizza boxes and beer cans. You see in real time, how his face morphs from anger into fear, his eyes dropping as he sees the way Carmen practically shakes, and the man isn’t able to let out a word, a protest or wail of a plea before the crack of Carmen's wooden bat swings through the air.

-- -

“Are you sure he isn't dead?” You reply, as you dip a washcloth into warm water, wiping away the blood across Carmen’s neck

“He isn’t going to die if I wasn’t the one causing it, besides, if he does, that’s God finishing off the rest of it”. Carmen replies, raising his face so that you cleaned the last of the streaks of blood splattered across his jaw.

Carmen reaches for your hands, pressing a kiss to the top of them as he looks at you in that way like he yearns for you to be closer.

“You need sleep, but first you need to eat, yeah?” Carmen replies, shushing your protests and he carries you to his room in his arms, after he notices the exhaustion in your limbs. It’s dark, illuminated only by the wall to ceiling windows that look into the busy city streets and light up sky scrapers.

The sheets are strewn across the bed, haphazard like Carmen had rushed to get them off of him in the early mornings. Carmen slides you into them, tucking you within the soft pillowy blanket, sitting on the edge as he caresses your cheek softly.

He leaves for a moment, rushing to make you something to eat, his skin crawling with a need to feel you against him, nearly tripping over himself as he walks back into his room with a bowl of soup and a bottle of water.

Carmen sits next to you again, pressing spoonfuls of soup into your mouth and wiping the edges ceremoniously as you rest against the headboard half asleep.

You don’t notice the way he looks at you, like he's trying to memorise every dip and curve of your face, his fingers clutching the spoon tight like he’s going to break if he doesn't hold you against him.

“Honey?” Carmen replies hushed

“Hmh?” You reply, your eyes heavy as the comfort of Carmen's warmth spreads through you.

“Don’t ever scare me like that again, you tell me everything okay? Everything” Carmen replies pained, like the events that transpired somehow still were not resolved, like breaking the man's legs wasn't enough for him.

“Okay” You reply, and Carmen places the dishes onto the bedside table, leaving it to the morning because he can't keep you away from him any longer.

Carmen joins you in the bed, the left side of his bed finally taken by somebody for the first time in a long time. Tugging you against him, Carmen curls your body to lay against his chest, his fingers softly gracing your back, soft circles that had begun to lull you to a sleep you hadn’t felt in months, years even.

The beat of Carmen's heart joins with yours, together and entwined like how it was always meant to be, why had Carmen waited so long? Why had he let time pass without you tucked under him, safe within his arms and away from all the horrors of the world.

It’s only when Carmen notices the shift in your breathing, falling into a soft exhale before he even lets the whispers of sleep grip him within its grasps, his shoulders finally release from its tensed state once he knows you've finally fallen into a sleep that had been kept from you.

“You don’t know how much I love you baby girl, it fucking scares me, but I’ll keep reminding you until infinity if I have to, until you know it deep down like I do” Carmen mumbles out, his eyes falling heavy and you grips you against his chest.

You don’t really know how, but even between the state of sleep and consciousness, you hear him, and you whisper between the space in your bodies, that you already do.

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